Note about the railroad: In reality, Kit Carson was once the last stop of the Union Pacific Railroad, but I'm not sure exactly what year that would have been. So I honestly don't know if they could have gone all the way to Denver by train or not. I don't want to do the necessary hard-core research to find out exactly where the railroad was in 1878. So, I'm just going to keep making it up as I go. xD

I made up Dr. Taylor.

Doc didn't enjoy talking to strangers, let alone trying to persuade strangers to help him, but this was an important occasion to say the least. It didn't take him long to convince Kit Carson's physician to ride out with him, and a couple of men with wagons to follow. Riding into town on his own had given him the chance to have a proper coughing fit without Wyatt getting that irritating, concerned look.

All was as he had left it when he returned, except that Jackson seemed to have sustained a blow to the head in Doc's absence. While Dr. Taylor examined James, Doc quietly asked Wyatt, "Jackson fall on his head while I was gone?"

"He tried to escape," Wyatt answered.

"I would say that's a ridiculous thing to do, except he probably knows he's out of options now. He'll hang for sure."

Wyatt nodded.

"I think these stitches will hold. It's a fair field dressing. You did this?" Dr. Taylor asked, looking up at Doc.

"I don't believe I mentioned I'm a dentist," Doc said modestly. "I'm used to more delicate work."

"As long as he doesn't start bleeding harder or complain of new pain, I think he'll be all right until I can get him back to my office. Who's in the worst shape now?"

"That'd be McClay." Wyatt pointed out the leaner of the two outlaws and the doctor set to work on him.

In the meantime, the men with wagons arrived. Wyatt and Doc loaded James into one of the wagons with the strangers' help. They gathered bodies into the other wagon and dragged the dead horse away from the road.

Jackson complained the while, not letting up until he was in a wagon with the other three wounded. Doc was tempted to give him another lump on his head, but he restricted himself to glaring.

When they were finally ready to head back to town, Wyatt went to mount his horse and paused. he lifted up his saddlebag and let it fall again.

"Something wrong?" Doc asked.

"No... nothing serious, anyway." Wyatt mounted up.

They didn't hurry, not wanting to jostle the wounded men in the wagon. It was late afternoon by the time the entourage came to the doctor's office and settled the wounded on cots.

"You sort out the livery arrangements and get something to eat," Doc told Wyatt. "I'll stay with James until you get back."

Wyatt looked reluctant to leave, but he said, "I guess I had better see the lawman here too. Once Jackson's patched up properly, he'll need to spend the night in the jail if possible. His men will have to stay here, too."

"Attend to whatever you must. Don't worry."

Wyatt nodded and went to James's side. "I'll be back a little later, Jim. Doc will be here if you need anything."

James looked groggy but seemed to acknowledge his brother's words.

When Wyatt left, Doc pulled a stool over by James's cot. "Did he give you something for the pain?"

James nodded.

"That's fine. You just sit there and go on to sleep if you like. You earned it."

James closed his eyes with a little sigh.

Doc took out his flask and had a drink. He guessed Wyatt would be gone until dinner time. It would be a rather dull wait.

Or so he thought, until Dr. Taylor asked for his assistance with McClay. The outlaw was writhing too much for Taylor to try extracting the bullet from his shoulder.

"Hold the lamp close and try to keep him still," Taylor instructed.

Doc did his best, holding the lamp with one hand and placing the other on McClay's good shoulder, but the task proved difficult for him. He was worried he would end up dousing them all in lamp oil.

Taylor grumbled something about Doc having no weight to him. He looked up. "Have you ever extracted a bullet?"

"I've done several extractions of teeth."

The Doctor put his forceps into Doc's free hand and took the lamp from him. "You've been promoted, doctor."

Wyatt decided to attend to legal matters first and made his way to the marshal's office where he introduced himself to the man in charge.

"Thomas Smith," the Marshal said, shaking Wyatt's hand. "You must be the fellow who caused all the commotion."

"Not directly," Wyatt said. "That would be my prisoner, Colorado Bob Jackson." He explained some of the details of how they had been ambushed on their way to Kit Carson.

"Sounds like you got pretty lucky."

"I'm sorry to leave you with four bodies, but I need to push on soon to get Jackson up to Denver. If he's well enough to leave your doctor's office, I'd like to keep him in jail overnight."

"That should be fine. Will you come back through Kit Carson on your way back from Denver? The circuit judge will be here next week and he can hear your testimony against McClay and the other man. You could even leave your injured man here in town to testify and pick him up on your way back if you prefer."

Wyatt hadn't considered leaving James behind, but now he realized that might be the best arrangement for his brother's recovery. "I'll certainly give that some thought. I'll let you know my plans before we move on."

From the Marshal's office, Wyatt went back to the doctor's office, collected their horses, and led them over to the livery stable. The helpful townspeople had already delivered the outlaws' horses there. Wyatt talked things over with the proprietor, advising him that the fate of the outlaws' horses might need to be determined by the circuit judge. He paid for their supplies to sit in the stable overnight as well.

Before leaving, he inspected his saddlebag a little more thoroughly. What he discovered intrigued him. He suspected that his horse was lucky to be alive. By extension, he was very fortunate as well. He wondered if he should mention his discovery to Doc or James.

Finally, Wyatt went to the nearest saloon and had a hurried meal before requesting something he could take over to Doctor Taylor's office.

When he returned, James was asleep, and Doc was playing Fish with Taylor at his workbench.

After exchanging greetings with Taylor, Wyatt asked, "How is he?"

"He's as well as can be expected," Doc answered, eyeing the basket Wyatt had gotten from the saloon. "Did you bring food?"

"Yes. Reckon we should wake James?"

Taylor shook his head. "Sleep is better for him at the moment, but whenever he wakes, I'll see that he gets some soup at least."

"All right. How about the prisoners? Are they fit to stay in jail tonight?"

"Jackson can," said Doc. "McClay's pretty bad off, though. His companion, Anderson, might."

"I don't like to send patients away from my office, but I suppose not having them in irons might do them some good," Taylor said.

Doc picked up his handful of cards from where he had laid them down and examined them. "By the way, doctor," he said lazily, "I ask this of both you and Wyatt - why bother patching up fellas who are just going to hang anyway?"

"It's a question of morality," said Taylor.

Wyatt nodded. "Maybe it doesn't make much sense, but it's the right thing to do. And in Jackson's case, of course we need him alive if we want to collect the reward."

Doc thumbed through his cards lazily. "I don't know but you may be right... Have you any threes, Doctor?"

Taylor passed a card to Doc.

"...It sure does seem like a waste of time, though."

After their game, Taylor excused himself to get some rest in his home above the office. He said Jackson could be moved to the jail and instructed them to alert him if any of the other patients needed his attention.

"I think I'll fetch the marshal to help move him," Wyatt told Doc. "I don't want to take any chances now that they're at their most desperate."

Doc nodded. He was glad Wyatt was being cautious.

"I already ate, so help yourself while I'm gone."

"All right. Wyatt..."

Wyatt waited with a look of expectation.

Just keep your damn mouth shut. But Doc shoved his better judgment down. There was no one else here but men who were sleeping off injuries - and Jackson, but he was at the other end of the room. "You really did save our lives out there."

Wyatt looked a little on the spot. Only a tiny movement of his mustache betrayed any change in expression, but he glanced at the floor, too.

"Of course, in my case, there may not be much left of it anyway..." Doc added, trying to lighten the moment a little.

"It's like you said," Wyatt said, looking up again. "Now we're about even."

"Right." Doc smirked. "You get going. I'll be glad to be rid of Mister Jackson for a while."

Wyatt nodded and stepped outside.

Doc pulled the cloth from the top of the basket Wyatt had brought and explored the options inside. He froze when he heard a creak behind him. Without turning around, he slowly moved his hand to the ivory grip of his pistol. "If you try to move from that cot, we'll have to prolong our stay in Kit Carson while you recover from another bullet wound."

"I'm just trying to get comfortable," Jackson growled.

Doc didn't believe it for a moment. He kept one hand ready as he took scraps of food from the basket with the other and satisfied his appetite, which was bigger than usual due to missing lunch. It seemed like far too long before Wyatt returned with the marshal.

"That's him," Wyatt told the marshal, pointing out Jackson. "And I want you to meet..."

Doc turned toward them and shook his head emphatically. Don't introduce me.

"...my friend John Holliday," Wyatt finished a little slower, frowning at Doc. He clearly didn't understand Doc's desire to remain acquainted with as few lawmen as possible.

Doc set his teeth and stared, willing himself not to let it become a glare. He nodded stiffly at the marshal.

"Thomas Smith," the marshal said. Looking at Wyatt, he said, "Have you decided if you're leaving your brother here?"

Doc raised an eyebrow. He hadn't imagined for a moment that Wyatt would want to continue their journey without James.

"Not yet," Wyatt answered. "I reckon we'll talk it over once Jackson is in a cell."

Probably hearing Wyatt's voice, James stirred in his cot.

Once again, Doc urged Wyatt to go on his way. "I'll keep a close eye on him," he promised.

He went back to the stool by James's cot when Wyatt and Smith marched a limping and complaining Jackson out of the office. He watched the wounded man's face, noting the family resemblance to Wyatt. Seeing the similarities up close, he formulated an image of what Wyatt's father must look like. He supposed the Earp patriarch must be quite an impressive man.

"You get better now," he told James quietly, assuming he wouldn't actually be heard or understood. "Wyatt's awfully fond of you."

I just want to point out that Doc asking, "Jackson fall on his head while I was gone?" is a testament to his loyalty to Wyatt. His suggestion is much more absurd than the obvious - that Wyatt hit the prisoner - but he assumes the absurdity to be the likely explanation, because he would stand by his friend's actions even if Wyatt was 100% in the wrong. You may recall, this is what made Kate mad at him. It's like if your friend rear-ended someone with their car and you said, "Man, how fast were they going when they backed into you?"
Marshal Thomas Smith was actually dead by the time this story took place, but his was the only name I could find for lawmen in Kit Carson.
The game of "Go Fish" was supposedly invented by some kid in New York in the 1980's, but there is just too much evidence to suggest that it existed as far back as the 1800s. Maybe the official rules as we know them were first established in the 80's. I don't plan to research this far enough to know for sure. xp
What's up with Wyatt's saddlebag?