Nothing too hot and steamy here... I'm just tantalizing you again. ^_^ Mwa ha ha...

"You sure that tinhorn wasn't cheating?"

Seeing the look in Doc's eye, Wyatt grabbed him by the arm. Sometimes it was best to physically stop someone rather than try to think of something to say quick enough.

James tried to smooth things over.

"I think you owe me an apology," Doc said intently.

Joe looked to the side and rubbed the fingers of his right hand against his palm. The tension was heavy in the air.

Wyatt found his voice. "I'm sure he didn't mean it. Let's just leave it alone."

"Cheat, I will overlook, but tinhorn, I will not," Doc said.

You damn well better overlook "cheat," since that's what you were doing, Wyatt thought, somewhat irritated. Doc's arm felt warm in his grasp. His shirt was a little damp with sweat. Wyatt began to wonder if his friend was all right.

"Come on, Doc," James wheedled.

"Doc?" Alan repeated. Suddenly, he shrank back a step. "Joe, apologize to the man."

Joe sputtered, but finally apologized.

Doc's tense muscles relaxed under Wyatt's hand. That's it, Doc. Let it go.

"I suppose we all speak out of turn sometimes," Doc murmured.

The tension dissipated, and the cattlemen left. Wyatt was grateful that Alan had realized who Doc was and had the sense not to try his patience.

Once they got their weapons back from the bartender, James started in on the scolding. "I told you not to get into trouble."

"That fool kid had no right to talk about me like that," Doc said hotly.

"Don't give me that," Wyatt told him. "You were cheating."

"Only a little."

James cursed. "Come on. Back to the hotel. Now."

Wyatt was a little tired of James's attitude and, for reasons unknown, feeling protective of Doc. Maybe it was because James had questioned their friendship before. Or maybe it was because he suspected that Doc was sicker than he let on. "Who among us hasn't cheated a little now and then?"

Seemingly unconcerned, Doc sat on the edge of Wyatt's bed and started going through his saddle bags. It was a little presumptive, but Wyatt found he didn't mind.

"It's not that," James countered. "It's that we're a long way from Dodge. We need to avoid trouble with the locals. We have a job to do, and if you're not careful, we could get mixed up in something that ruins the whole trip. And that goes for you, too," he added, looking at Doc.

Doc had pulled out Wyatt's compass and Reverend Wright's Bible. He looked up at James and gave a convincingly remorseful, "Yes, sir." He looked back at the Bible and opened it.

Considering how rude Doc had been to the reverend that morning, Wyatt found the action a little confusing.

"No more of this shit, understand?"

"We understand, James," Wyatt said, keeping his voice even. "Right, Doc?" He'll quit nagging if we just agree.

Doc set the Bible aside. "Right." Next, he unpacked Wyatt's pencil and the map.

Wyatt went over to Doc as he unfolded the map and pointed to an area south of Granada. "There are Cheyenne and Comanche trails all through here. Kiowa use them, too. They're still considered dangerous, but usually if you leave them alone, they leave you alone." He recalled running into various Indians and talking to some Cheyenne who were scouts for the army.

"Even if you're a white man straying onto their territory?" Doc asked, sounding doubtful.

"Then they might ask you if you're lost," Wyatt said, smiling a little. He strongly doubted that the plains Indians would give them trouble and he wanted to reassure Doc. "I've got some tobacco in my other bag. That's usually a good peace offering for any tribe."

"Not a bad peace offering for me either, so you know."

With your cough? "Wouldn't smoking be..." Wyatt caught himself.

Doc merely shrugged.

Wyatt turned his attention back to pointing out features on the map. When he finished, he rested his hand casually on Doc's shoulder. Oh, shit...

But Doc looked up and said, "Sounds like bush-whacker country. Spend much time down there?" as if nothing had happened.

Reassured that Doc didn't mind, Wyatt left his hand in place. Again, he noticed a slight dampness. It's even soaking through his waistcoat. He forced himself to ignore it. "Some, when I was buffalo hunting. I think they're mostly gone from this side of the Santa Fe line now. Hard to believe." I should really stop pressing my luck treating him like my kid brother. Wyatt let go of Doc's shoulder but couldn't quite stop himself from giving it a light squeeze first. "Anyway, maybe we won't have to go in there, but if we do, we'll be ready.

Doc reached up to loosen his cravat. He was definitely feeling warm.

James was getting undressed. Wyatt took the cue and hung up his jacket.

"Was buffalo hunting as thrilling an experience as it sounds?" Doc asked.

That yes-or-no question could take hours to answer. "Well, it could be, that's for sure," Wyatt said. He untied his ribbon tie and set it aside before unbuttoning his waistcoat while he described some aspects of the hunt.

When he mentioned a narrow escape, Doc said, "We might never have met" with a cheeky smile.

"He's exaggerating," James put in.

"Am not," Wyatt said indignantly. "It was mere feet from me."

"A mere hundred feet."

"You weren't there."

Doc's smile widened. "Either it was a hell of a close shave or a hell of a good shot, one." It seemed he was on Wyatt's side, whether he was lying or not.

Wyatt chuckled. "I reckon so."

Doc glanced at James. "It looks like James wants to get to sleep." He checked his pocket watch.

"We won't get as much rest when Jackson is our responsibility," James said. "It's best to get it when you can."

Wyatt started packing his things back into his saddlebag. Maybe I don't think of him as my little brother... I probably wouldn't have let Morg go pawing through my stuff. He decided to attribute his own strange behavior to the fact that Doc was a fairly new friend and that he was still being careful of him due to their tension earlier.

"Well, if you've a mind to talk some more," Doc said lightly, "you could come over to my room so as not to disturb older brother, here."

The suggestion immediately made Wyatt think of that walk in the dark again. It was appealing.

"If you do, don't stay up too late. If Wyatt's sleepy when he blunders in here, he'll wake me for sure," James accused.

Wyatt sighed and rolled his eyes at Doc, who smirked in response. "Not too late, old man." He picked up the waistcoat he had just discarded and hurriedly pulled it back on without buttoning it. "Come on."

Doc picked up the map and pencil and led the way to his room, which was just a little smaller than Wyatt's and James's room, and had only one bed.

Once Wyatt closed the door behind him, Doc tossed his jacket on a peg, poured himself a cup of water, and said, "Make yourself at home."

Wyatt almost laughed. "Hm. Fine place you have here." He sat on the edge of Doc's bed.

"Well, you know I do all right for myself." Doc went to his small table and set down his cup with the map and pencil. Then he began emptying his waistcoat pockets of coins and bills.

"How much did you take in tonight?"

"A little over fifteen dollars. Not bad. You?" Doc took a drink of his water.

"I think I kept losing and winning back the same three dollars I won at the beginning. But I don't mind. It was fun. You sure had me worried, though."

Doc stacked the money neatly. "Worried? Whatever for?"

"About your cheating getting us into a fight. It nearly did."

"Oh, nonsense. Come here." He took another drink.

Wyatt raised his eyebrows. Doc was being quite familiar with him, too. Maybe their almost-fight had made them closer somehow. He got up and went to the table, where Doc was spreading out the map.

"Now, are the soldiers stopping right at the state line, or will they go on to Granada with us?"

"I believe they intend to go to Granada and spend the night before heading back. But we'll officially be in charge of Jackson at the state line, so we'll move him to the buckboard then and let the stagecoach go on ahead of us."

"Fine. So, it's possible they might make a move shortly after that - seven of us is better than nine." Doc tapped the map just beyond the state line.

"I guess, but I think Jackson is right that they won't try anything while the troops are there. So..." Wyatt grabbed the pencil and marked a spot just past Granada. "...here is more likely." Doc hadn't moved, and the heel of Wyatt's hand brushed against Doc's fingertips.

"And if that's the spot, where might we take to the Indian trails?" Doc moved his hand south of the pencil mark.

He was very much covering anyplace Wyatt would want to point out, so Wyatt tucked the pencil under his thumb and grabbed Doc's hand to move it. This done, he made a few marks on the map. He felt suddenly warm. Doc doesn't like to shake hands... He's probably annoyed. But he was right in the way. "This should be about where they are, the ones I'm more familiar with. They all cross over one another eventually."

"I see." Doc suddenly turned away, coughing. "Excuse me," he said between coughs.

Usually, Doc didn't say anything to acknowledge that the coughing was actually taking place, so Wyatt felt concerned again. He held out Doc's cup. Water had seemed to help him when they were on the road.

When he was steady enough, Doc took the cup and drained it quickly. Then he went to his satchel and produced a little bottle from which he took a sip. He replaced the cork with a grimace before going back to the wash stand to pour himself more water.

Wyatt longed to say something, to ask if he was all right, but he held his tongue. He tried to be patient while Doc coughed into his handkerchief, but then he saw a red stain on the cloth and couldn't help saying, "Doc..."

"It's all right," Doc said, grimly folding the handkerchief and tucking it into the pocket of his open waistcoat. "It seems the dust of the road has done some damage. These things happen. I'll do better once we part with the coach." He sipped his water again and returned to Wyatt's side. "You were saying?"

"...I was saying..." Wyatt made himself look at the map again. "Some of these trails run west, so we wouldn't lose much time by turning off the road for a while." Are you sure you're all right? Maybe Lakin has a doctor...

"I see. But we wouldn't have the buckboard, so once in Granada, I think we should make sure we have all of our most important supplies ready to move to horseback quickly if necessary." Doc coughed again briefly and sipped his water.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. We could even pick up a pack horse in town so all we would have to do is saddle up the harness horses and go."

"Mm. Ask James about that." Doc was leaning on the table with both hands now.

"Maybe we ought to get to bed," Wyatt said. "James had a point - we might not get much rest later."

Doc made no answer. He continued staring at the map. A bead of sweat ran down his face and dripped onto his collar. He swallowed thickly and then said, "Where did you come by this map, Wyatt?"

Unable to look away from Doc's strained features, Wyatt answered, "Kansas City. A cartographer there put it together from his own study and information he got from the buffalo hunters."

Through the open sides of his waistcoat, Wyatt could see Doc's shirt moving rather more rapidly than seemed normal for ordinary breathing.

"You could... add your own..." Doc coughed again, this time inadvertently leaning against Wyatt.

"John..." Wyatt put an arm around his friend and walked him toward the bed, supporting him. Once Doc was sitting, he went back for the cup of water.

Doc hacked into his handkerchief and then took the cup to sip at it. "Flask," he wheezed. "In my coat."

Wyatt fetched the flask from the inside pocket of Doc's jacket. A drink from that finally calmed his symptoms a bit.

"I apologize," Doc said, looking at the floor with glazed eyes. "I ought to have listened to you and gone to bed. Now I've made myself a bother to you."

"It's no bother," Wyatt said quickly. "Think nothing of it."

The corner of Doc's mouth twitched, but he didn't smile. "You go on back to your room, boy. I'll be all right." He didn't look all right.

"Are you sure?"

Doc nodded.

Feeling that he couldn't stay any longer without humiliating his friend, Wyatt patted Doc's shoulder and left the room.

I have no idea what kind of interactions Wyatt had with Indians in real life, but I wanted to hint at the ones featured in the show The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp. If you've seen much of that show, you might recall Mr. Brother and Mr. Cousin, two Cheyenne scouts. They showed up in many episodes.

So, how sick is Doc? Should he not have gone on this trip? Is anyone reading, or is writing this serving no purpose besides being my own guilty pleasure? ^_^'