Warnings from the previous chapter apply. Don't get uppity.

Additional warning: mention of physical punishment for kids.

The term "nervy" means "having nerve," not "nervous." For instance, one might say, "He's just nervy enough to start something with the Clantons!" Or, "It's mighty nervy of you to defy the law."

"Doc seems to have a bit of a temper," James commented about halfway between Lakin and Syracuse.

"Temper?" Wyatt asked. Doc had been perfectly affable when they left Lakin. He looked ahead at Doc moving smoothly along in the saddle.

"That altercation in the saloon. Seems he has a reputation, too."

"Oh, that. Yeah, that one fella did seem to know who he was at least."

"Just how much do you know about him?"

"I've done a little checking," Wyatt said, not liking to admit that he had had some misgivings about Doc, too. "He was too young to fight in the war - he's Morg's age. He was reported dead in Texas one time. The Dallas weekly got it wrong, I guess." He smirked.

"All right, but is he as dangerous as folks seem to think he is?"

"What do you think?" Wyatt watched his brother's face. James had usually proven to be a good judge of character.

"Well... he's polite, from what I've seen. Other than ignoring the preacher. He's nervy. Outspoken. But sort of quiet at the same time."

Wyatt agreed with that assessment.

"But I've heard a couple of rumors that don't line up with all of that, and the cattleman's reaction to him last night seems to back them up. The rumors say he's temper'mental, quick to fight, quick to kill when a fight happens. You yourself cautioned him against such things when we went into the saloon."

"I did. And I think he listened pretty well. He checked his weapons, stayed nice and civil until an accusation was made, and even then, didn't make a move on the offender. If nothing else, I think he'll stay in line for my sake."

"That's a bit of an assumption. You owe him your life, not the other way around. He also drinks and gambles more than what I could call healthy."

"How much would you call healthy?"

James shrugged. "I suppose it's not too concerning since he doesn't have a family to support, but I'd say he walks a fine line between gentleman and scoundrel."

"He'd probably agree with you there."

"Hm."

"Anyway, I think he drinks for his health more than anything, and gambles because his consumption often keeps him from the dentistry."

"I see." It seemed that James hadn't quite put together what Doc's ailment was. He looked up from the team. "You trust him?"

Wyatt made himself consider a little before answering. He saved my life when there wasn't much in it for him. He volunteered for this trip even though he thought it a fool's errand. He didn't stay mad after I offended him. He tried to put my sleep ahead of his health last night. All he knew of Doc so far seemed to point toward his being trustworthy. Maybe not as far as Kansas at large was concerned, but certainly where Wyatt was. "I do," he said.

"And you think he'll stay on the right side of things, even if going a different way would profit him more?"

"He's not going to double-cross us."

"I'm talking generally."

"I think so, as long as he has a friend in the world." Left to himself, Wyatt suspected that Doc might become more bitter and temperamental by the day.

"And that little misunderstanding you had is under the bridge?"

Wyatt nodded.

"All right." James focused on his driving again. "I'll give him the benefit of the doubt for now."

"Good."

Wyatt was glad to see that Doc seemed to have a better appetite in Syracuse than he had in Lakin, working steadily on his lunch without joining the conversation much. In spite of Doc's lack of response, James spoke openly, ready to include him.

When he finished eating, Wyatt suggested walking around town a bit. Doc trailed him and James, keeping just near enough to hear their conversation. Wyatt wondered if James was still apprehensive about the trip - maybe that had prompted some of his misgivings about Doc. But when he asked for an honest answer, James assured him that he was committed to their enterprise.

Wyatt was about to say something about what they would do in Denver when he caught sight of a lady out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to look. She was a dark-haired beauty, dressed very fashionably, carrying herself with a certain air that made Wyatt wonder what she looked like under those fancy clothes.

He barely heard Doc murmur, "So much for focusing on our objective."

"What?" Wyatt glanced back at him.

Doc nodded pointedly at the lady.

"Oh, I was only admiring the view." Wyatt took out his watch, trying to ignore the feeling that he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Not much I could do in the way of courting in twenty or thirty minutes," he said with an attempt at nonchalance.

"Plenty of time to get yourself in trouble," Doc contradicted.

"What about Mattie?" asked James.

"I'm not getting in any trouble," Wyatt said, starting to get irritated. "I just admired her a little. Didn't you think she was pretty?"

Doc chuckled. "Pretty as a picture. But what sort of picture was in your mind as you were 'admiring' her, that I'd like to see."

Damn, why can he read me like a book? Wyatt felt hot under the collar.

"All right," James said good-naturedly. "Lay off him, Doc."

Wyatt's one consolation was that James and Doc were getting along, even if it was at his expense.

They traveled without talking for a couple of miles. Even though he kept telling himself he was sure of his friend's loyalty, James's misgivings had not left him without any of his own. Doc had made it clear that he was not in favor of slavery... but not that he had never been. Wyatt's inquiries had revealed Doc's father to be a landowner, which in the South often came with slave ownership.

He must have been brooding a bit, because Doc finally asked, "Something botherin' you?"

"Mm..." Yes, but I don't want to start a fight.

"I suppose you still have questions," Doc guessed.

Still reading me like a book. Wyatt glanced at Doc and then away.

"If you can keep from blurting out opinions and let me say my piece before you rush to judgment, I'll tell you what you want to know."

That was reassuring, but somehow, Wyatt still couldn't bring himself to ask.

"You want to know if my family kept slaves."

Goddam, you're too good at reading me. Wyatt looked down at the reins in his hands, then up toward the horses again. "It crossed my mind," he said.

After a moment, Doc said, "I think it's important to point some things out before I get into it."

"All right." Wyatt indulged Doc's analogy about the horses.

"Supposing you were born in a magical land where horses could talk. Then you came here and saw the rest of us using horses as beasts of burden. What would you think?"

It seemed silly, but Doc was persistent.

"Go on."

Wyatt sighed and made himself take the question seriously. "I guess I'd think it was awful. If the horses were like people where I came from... But then I'd learn that these couldn't talk." The analogy was far from perfect.

"Naturally," Doc acknowledged, "but I think you'll understand my point." He went on to make that point. While it still didn't sit well, it did make some sense.

"All right," Wyatt said. He expected that to be the extent of Doc's explanation. Now he would likely say something like "My father owned them, but I had nothing to do with it."

Doc shed his waistcoat and laid it in the back of the buckboard. He took a slow, deep breath. "Yes, my father owned slaves. It didn't occur to me to wonder where they had come from, how he had acquired them. Not whether they were born in Georgia or overseas. It didn't seem important at the time. It shames me to say it, but that's how it was when I was a boy." He continued on, and it seemed from his earnest tone that it was important to him that Wyatt understand the situation fully.

When Doc expressed his fear of a bad decision he might have made in other circumstances, Wyatt asked, "You think you might have kept them?"

Doc was quiet, and when Wyatt looked up, he saw sweat trickling down his face. "It's worse than that," he said in a low voice. "I'm afraid I would have sold them."

Wyatt listened, feeling oddly like a priest hearing a confession.

"I'm truly ashamed of it, but I don't see how I could have done differently. Not without divine intervention or someone teaching me better somehow."

The silence became uncomfortable as it had the day before. Doc seemed to need some reassurance. "I think I understand," Wyatt managed.

Doc hastily wiped his face with the end of his scarf.

Did he shed a tear?

"For what it's worth," Doc said in a subdued tone, "Pa wasn't cruel to them." He described the ways in which Henry Holliday was a kinder master than those around him.

Wyatt could see what he was saying, but it seemed like comparing slapping a baby to punching a baby. They were both wrong.

"I'm not sayin' that makes it right. God, nothin'll make it right." Doc's voice broke.

Wyatt's disapproval melted away. Doc could have given a brief statement and left it at that. Instead, he had chosen to give a full explanation, even admitting his wrongful way of thinking at the time. Wyatt wanted to tell him it was all right, that everyone did things they weren't proud of, and he knew his friend wouldn't repeat the mistakes of the past. But there didn't seem to be a good way to put that into words. He gathered the reins in his left hand and put his right on Doc's leg just behind his knee. Maybe it was too forward, but it was the best he could do.

Doc said nothing. His leg felt hot through his trousers.

"Well..." Wyatt said to break the uncomfortable silence, "you've sure given me a lot to think about when it comes to how I treat my horse."

Doc gave something like a strangled laugh. "That was just for illustrative purposes."

"No, I mean it. It's a whole other perspective. Who's to say we haven't got it wrong?"

They fell silent again, but it wasn't uncomfortable like before.

Wyatt knew he needed both hands on the reins, and he gave Doc's leg a squeeze before letting go. "I appreciate you telling me all that," he said quietly, not looking at his friend.

"I appreciate your listening," Doc answered. "You're the first Yankee who ever let me speak my mind on it without cuttin' me off or cussin' me out or threatening bodily harm."

"I apologize on behalf of us Yankees."

"Psh, I told you not to apologize to me - don't start doin' it on behalf of anybody else. I don't give a damn what other people think. If they won't be decent to me, I've no use for them."

Wyatt wasn't sure Doc cared as little as he claimed to, but he didn't dispute it. He was glad that he could lay this matter to rest. James was smart to be wary of people, but Doc was all right. Everything would be fine.

Oh boy, famous last words, Wyatt. xD

So, they've found a certain level of understanding on some very serious topics. It's time to cross into Colorado and get into trouble! I mean... get Jackson to Denver!

This story is as long as a short novel now. Can you spare a moment to comment?