Chapter 1 – No Time to Be Sick
Kitty Russell stood with Doc Adams at the bottom of the physician's stairs, the fear plain on her face. Chester Goode, spurred into sudden action, ran toward the jailhouse and on to Moss Grimock's stable as fast as his stiff right leg allowed. Like his two friends the jailer knew his boss US Marshal Matt Dillon was too sick to face a killer. More importantly, Chester knew what began as the helpful task of cleaning the filthy revolver belonging to his ill boss had turned into a nightmare. Thanks to his pretending he was a real gun hand, he'd lowered Mr. Dillon's chances of surviving a gunfight in his current condition from small to none. Knowing he would have reloaded it if Doc hadn't needed him to help set a broken leg instead of leaving it hanging in the gun belt holster on a peg didn't salve his conscience. He only hoped that he was in time to prevent the worst as he grabbed a rifle from the rack.
While the marshal's assistant made his way toward the stable six shots rang out, stirring the saloon owner and physician into action. They raced toward the sound, hoping against hope that there would be something they could do. Kitty saw only the unmoving body of the man she loved knowing that by waking him she had sent him to face possible death at the hands of the killer Joe Lyme while Doc, with his physician's eye, saw the tall lawman lying on the straw in an otherwise empty corner stall as a patient in need of his assistance who happened to be a close friend. Neither paid attention to Chester and his prisoner. The doctor pulled hard on his ear in an effort to suppress a smile. It didn't work. The short stab of pain contrasted with the concerned yet guilty look on the beautiful redhead's face turned his smile into a quiet chuckle that soon became a belly laugh.
"Doc, this isn't funny. I saw Chester taking Joe Lyme to jail before I spotted Matt. That can mean only one thing."
"It means something else," he replied knowing just what she was thinking. "He's not shot, Kitty, just very sick. We need to try to wake him so he can walk to my office unless you want to help me carry him down Front Street."
His words caused her to laugh more uproariously than the much older man beside her. Somehow none of the shots had hit the person they were looking at. There was no blood anywhere near or on him. During the time it took to get their laughter under control they notice there was no blood at all. Relieved she hadn't sent him to his death Kitty set to waking the man sprawled in front of them.
"Matt, Matt! You've got to wake up!"
"You'd best listen to her Mr. Marshal," Doc said, adding his poking to her gentle shaking.
"Go away! Let me sleep!"
"In case you've forgotten, you've got a fever and despite the unseasonably warm March weather, a stable is too drafty for someone as sick as you. On your feet! Doctor's orders!"
"Come on, Matt. Get up and walk with us to Doc's office. You can sleep as much as you want in his back room. We won't let anybody disturb you except for your own good."
Slowly Kitty and Doc's words penetrated his fever-fogged brain and he opened his eyes to see their concerned faces. With what in his current state amounted to a Herculean effort he sat up. Then, with the aid of the slats forming one side of the stall and the two people with him, Matt pulled himself up to lean against the side of the stall until the dizziness and blurred vision subsided. Finally, he was ready. With Kitty on his right and Doc on his left he shuffled off to Doc's office, barely stopping at his own office door to let Chester know where they were going.
"Hold on, Kitty. What do you mean except for my own good?" Matt asked when they arrived at their destination. "Do you plan on waking me to face someone else who's gunning for me?"
"Not unless facing a killer pleases you like what I have in mind. Of course Doc may not approve of all of what I might do to nurse you back to health!"
Despite the fever, Matt smiled in response. With renewed effort he continued on until he collapsed into Doc's backroom bed, falling back to sleep as Kitty removed his pants to leave him clad only in his union suit.
While Matt began the process of regaining his health under the care of his personal physician and nurse Chester tried his best to atone for his latest lapse in judgment. This was the worst even if Mr. Dillon claimed the unloaded gun saved his life. Had his boss not been so sick when he returned from chasing the Lyme brothers, he wouldn't have neglected his gun so much it needed cleaning and then reloading. However, fever or not, the gun was hanging on its usual peg when Matt grabbed it. There was no reason for him to think it wasn't ready for use. Chester didn't allow himself to goof off like he had. While Matt lay in his sickbed he diligently guarded the prisoner, except when he was able to get someone like Moss or Sam, the new bartender at the Long Branch, to relieve him for an hour so he could get meals for himself and the prisoner and check on his boss' condition.