Wyatt sure does owe Doc... and yet he seems to keep on needing his help. LOTS of dialogue in this chapter. I hope you like that. More action is on the way in future chapters. Mention of another Earp in this chapter. Most people write Virgil and Morgan, but this is Dodge, not Tombstone. I went for historical accuracy this time.

In the course of his rounds, Wyatt looked in on the Long Branch saloon. The place still held several patrons, but there was no sign of Doc. He went on to break up a drunken fistfight at the Custom House saloon, where his brother James tended bar, but the rest of his circuit proved uneventful. As he walked down Front street, he glanced up at the boarding house's second story. There was a faint glow in Doc's window. Maybe he and Kate were keeping each other entertained this evening. He smiled a little. Good for you, Doc.

He continued to the cheaper lodgings on the other side of the street where Mattie Blaylock resided. There was a light in her window too, and when he knocked at her door, she didn't take long to answer.

Wyatt swept his hat off and gave Mattie a smile that was fighting to turn into a grin. "Good evening, ma'am."

Mattie grabbed his jacket and pulled him inside. "Welcome home, Mister Earp."

This was certainly not home to him, but he sort of liked how it sounded, so he didn't contest it. He fumbled with the latch behind his back while he leaned down to kiss her soundly. Once the door was secure, he wrapped both arms around her, deepening the kiss.

He pulled away to say, "I'm not on duty until noon tomorrow."

She smiled broadly and shoved the sides of his jacket apart. "That's good to know."

The sun was high when Wyatt crawled out of Mattie's bed the next morning. He washed up and got dressed, wondering if anyone would notice he was in the same shirt as the day before. He should probably go back to his own lodging and change, but he hadn't left himself much time. He nearly went straight to the jail, but the thought of Bat Masterson's knowing smile changed his mind. He hurried back to his place.

About two minutes late by the clock on the shelf, Wyatt stepped into Charlie Bassett's office. "Morning, Charlie. Bat."

Charlie glanced meaningfully at the clock.

"Sorry," Wyatt said. "I got a bit of a late start this morning."

"I could understand that if you were due here at six in the morning. Were you up all night?"

Bat smirked.

Damn you, Bat. "I'll try to be more punctual."

"You do that."

Bat retrieved his bowler hat and walking stick. He had been there since Charlie let him go for breakfast early that morning, so it was time for him to be relieved until evening rounds. Tomorrow it would be his turn to sleep in. "I wish you a peaceful day, gentlemen," he said on his way out.

"We got some fresh wanted posters this morning," Charlie told Wyatt. "I also got a letter from your old boss in Wichita."

"Mike Meagher? What'd he say?"

"They apprehended a bandit there, Bob Jackson. Better known as Colorado Bob. He's being extradited to Denver, and he's on his way here now, but they need someone to help with the transport."

"Hasn't Mike got any deputies?"

"He has... but from what he says in the letter, they were lucky to take Jackson alive. He wounded one of the deputies, and Mike himself was grazed by a bullet. The man's big, mean, and tough."

"What's the transport pay?"

"Assuming he's delivered safely, Mike and his boys will get a twenty-five-hundred-dollar reward. They're willing to give a thousand to whoever gets him there. Sounds like they want nothing more to do with him. Denver will also compensate the transport for expenses."

"Did they wire Fort Dodge for help?"

"They did..." Charlie took up a couple of sheets of creased paper and looked them over. "Yes. They got a detail of four soldiers to retrieve him and bring him as far as Dodge. From here, another four-man detail will take him on to the Colorado border. It's that last stretch to Denver that they need someone for."

"Why doesn't Denver send someone out to meet them?"

"They ought to, but it seems Jackson's reputation has made cowards of them all. They're worried his old gang will try to ambush the transport, or that the man himself will pick them off as they go. Furthermore, a lot of folks don't like to ride through Comanche land, even though there hasn't been a raid in years."

"Comanches don't worry me... neither does any tough hombre in chains."

"I figured you'd be interested, but even if I can spare you, you'd need at least one other man to go with you."

"Deputize James," Wyatt said immediately.

"I could..." Charlie sat back, looking thoughtful. "It's a long way to Denver, Wyatt. Even with James, I'd worry about you being outgunned on the trail."

Wyatt shrugged. "I'll scout around for a third man. When will the transport get here?"

"Should be here tomorrow. You don't have to get mixed up in this... it's Denver's problem, really. They want him; they should come get him."

"True. But it's good money. Even split two or three ways."

"Well, you think it over. See if you can find that third man." Charlie pushed his chair back. "I'm going to get myself some lunch. Have you eaten?"

"No."

"I'll bring you back something if you want."

"I'd appreciate that. Oh! What happened with Frankie Bell?" Wyatt dug a fifty-cent piece out of a pocket and handed it to Charlie for his lunch.

"We turned her loose this morning. She said she'd pay her fine in installments. I don't think she's going to make any more trouble."

"That's good."

"See that you don't either."

"Right."

When Charlie came back with some chicken and biscuits for Wyatt, he informed him that he had seen a couple of people hanging around Doc's dentistry office.

"The place didn't appear to have been opened up today," Charlie said. "Just as a matter of course, I asked at the Long Branch when I was there, and apparently no one's seen Doc Holliday since dinnertime yesterday."

"That's odd," Wyatt said. "Doc doesn't open in the morning if he's been up all night gambling, but he should have been somewhere by now."

"That's what I thought, but I don't know him very well. You know where he lives?"

Wyatt nodded. "Cox's boarding house. I could go by and see if he's there."

"I wouldn't think it was really our concern, except that it's unusual for a man of particular habits to suddenly disappear."

"Yeah. Fishy. I hope nothing's happened to him. I saw him last night, myself. He left the Long Branch... oh, sometime between eight and nine, I think." Wyatt finished his lunch and stood up.

"You see if you can locate Holliday. I'll hang these wanted posters while you're gone. If everything's fine, come straight back. If it's not, report to me when you get the chance."

"I will." Wyatt checked the cylinders of his revolvers and headed out of the jail toward the boarding house.

He hadn't been up to Doc's residence before, but Doc or Kate had waved to him from the window a couple of times, so by now he knew where it was. All was quiet when he got to their door. He knocked, not expecting an answer. The knock echoed hollowly, convincing Wyatt that the room was empty. He was about to turn away when he heard a faint, raspy voice.

"Who is it?"

"It's Wyatt Earp... Doc, is that you?"

A pause, then, "Come in, Wyatt."

Wyatt opened the door to find Doc leaning against some pillows on his bed. He looked terrible. "Doc, you all right?"

"Sure." Doc reached for the whiskey bottle on his bedside table and poured himself a glass. "Take a nip?"

Wyatt shook his head. "I don't really care for it, thanks." Wyatt took in the lamp which was still burning for some reason, low and smokey, and Doc's rumpled clothing. "Did you sleep last night?"

"Some."

"Did you sleep in your clothes?"

"As a matter of fact, I did."

Something wasn't adding up. "What happened? Where's Kate?"

Doc shrugged. "Out peddling her wares, no doubt."

"She..."

"She left, Wyatt. She took exception to your treatment of Frankie Bell, and by extension, my response. So, she decided to quit my presence to return at a hitherto undetermined time. She's gone," he added for emphasis, meeting Wyatt's gaze for the first time.

Wyatt had the good sense to feel guilty. "John, I'm sorry." He sighed. "It's my fault."

"Very astute of you."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No, I prefer that you don't attempt to interfere. She'll be back when she's ready."

Wyatt glumly sat on the edge of Doc's bed. "I came because you had customers waiting at your office..."

Something like regret passed over Doc's face. "I see."

"Have you eaten today?"

"I have not."

Wyatt reached over and corked the whiskey bottle. "You didn't eat dinner either, did you? You'd barely started when I showed up."

Doc shrugged.

"Come on, I'll buy you lunch. It's the least I can do."

"Apologies don't become you, Wyatt. My esteem for you drops with every hangdog look and sorry syllable."

Wyatt got the distinct feeling that Doc was wallowing, and it irritated him. He grabbed his friend by the fancy waistcoat and pulled him upright. "Come on. I'm buying you lunch."

Doc looked surprised at first, but then he smiled a little. "That's better," he said.

Understanding that Doc might not be ready to face his usual crowd, Wyatt took him to the cafe up the street from the Long Branch. Not a show girl or card game in sight. This meant that Doc didn't get overly distracted from eating or from Wyatt's conversation, the only two things he had in front of him to keep him occupied.

Wyatt told Doc a few of the details about the trouble with Frankie while they waited for the food to arrive. Then, to smooth over the awkwardness, he launched into discussing Bob Jackson.

"Jackson?" Doc repeated. "Colorado Bob?"

"You know him?"

"I've made his acquaintance at the Faro table."

"What's he like?"

"Mean son of a bitch."

"Hm. Well, there's a share of the reward in it for whoever can move him from the Colorado state line to Denver. I aim to see if James will go with me."

Doc set his fork down and looked Wyatt in the eye. "You want to move that hombre hundreds of miles with only your brother to back you up?"

"Planning to find a third man."

"Plan to find a fourth."

"He's that bad?"

Doc took a drink of water and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "When I had the misfortune to deal cards for Mister Jackson, he did not take kindly to losing. He challenged me to a poker game as a way of getting even."

"Did he cheat?"

"At the game, no. But again, he didn't take kindly to losing. Instead of playing to get his money back, he simply confiscated the pot as if he had won it."

"What did you do?"

"We had all checked our weapons at this particular establishment. I let one of the other players call him out and watched him make mincemeat of them. His arms are like baseball bats swung with vehemence. I tell you, he's a mean son of a bitch. I pled no contest to his thievery, and so escaped unscathed."

"I see." Wyatt thought over this information. Then he shrugged. "He'll be chained up, though. It'll be all right."

Doc sighed. "Then there's his gang to worry about."

"Right. Which is why I'm looking for a third man."

"You're a fool."

"It's good money."

"Not if you're too dead to collect it."

"What are you so worried about? I'd think you'd be glad to get rid of me."

"Au contraire, my good sir. I've invested too much in you to let you die now."

"Are you saying you have a bet on how long I'll live?"

"I'm saying I saved your life at risk of my own, I saved your romance at risk of my own, and I have practically nothing to show for it."

"I bought you lunch."

"I bought you dinner."

"...True."

They were silent for several seconds while Doc resumed eating. Finally, he said, "How much reward money?"

"A thousand dollars, split three ways."

"You'll expect the lion's share, I suppose."

"Five for me, two-fifty for James and our third man."

"Four for you, three hundred for James and me."

"You?"

"I told you: I've invested too heavily in you to let you die now. When do we leave?"

"The transport is supposed to get here tomorrow. The new soldier detail will probably head out the next day. They'll be traveling slower than I aim to, so we could leave a day behind them and catch up on the way to the border."

"Maybe Kate will be back before we leave... If not, I'll write her a letter explaining."

"Don't you think she'll be irritated if you go off with me right now?"

"Perhaps so, but she has to actually speak to me if she wants to tell me she disapproves."

You knew Doc was going to volunteer or get recruited for this job. I made it up, by the way. As far as I know, "Colorado Bob" never existed. I'm honestly not sure which saloon James worked in, and the internet is not very forthcoming when I ask it for the names of Dodge's 16 saloons... all it wants to tell me about is the Long Branch.