When the Strength of Men Wavers - A Tombstone Fanfiction

Chapter Four - Doc and Cigarettes

Ida kept her eye on Doc from then on. As far as she had seen, he kept hold of his unspoken promise to lay off the smoking, but his coughing fits came and went in the night and woke her each time. She would listen for his rattling breaths to even out before slipping back into a slumber. Ida began absentmindedly dog-earring pages in her herb guide that held remedies for aches and pains, coughing, and fever. The party had decided to stay near the banks of the creek, as it was likely an off-shoot of the San Pedro, so herb gathering became a necessity at every stop. One herb in particular, feverfew, held some promise; her mother had used it frequently to stave off fevers and aches when townspeople called on her, and Ida had used it to treat her mother's pain during her last days. Feverfew was very rare in Arizona, the herb guide told her, but it wouldn't be impossible to find along waterways. Ida found several unopened buds of the small white flower and plenty of leaves at a particularly lucky creek-side stop. She tied them to Ruby's saddle with small strips of cotton torn from a bandage. In Illinois, the plant took weeks to dry enough to crush them into powder, but the dry desert heat would dry them in days. Doc was worsening with each unfulfilling rest—Ida prayed the sun would be merciless.

It was a late afternoon when Wyatt drew his horse back from the others to match pace with Ruby. When the mare's agitated head-tossing was finally eased from Ida's soothing strokes, Wyatt spoke quietly.
"I don't know what you said to him, but it worked." He kept his voice low. "Thank you."
Ida looked down at her hands bashfully, but a proud smile crept onto her lips. "Of course, Wyatt. But I reckon he planned to stop anyway. That man only ever does what he wants."
Her brother chuckled. "You're certainly right about that."
Much to Ruby's clear disdain, Wyatt kept his horse, who he called Dick, at her pace—but Ida was exceedingly grateful for Wyatt's company. She didn't dare bring up Morgan, as much as she wanted to, for fear it would push him away. So she simply relished in what little laughter and conversation he extended.
"How's Doc been doing? I can't always tell from back here."
"He's hanging on, alright," Wyatt answered, "but I'm not sure if he's improved. He's so pale lately I swear I can see right through him."
Ida glanced down at the stalks of leaves and buds tied to the saddle. The unforgiving Arizona sun had made quick work of drying the feverfew.
"I think I'm going to try and get him to take feverfew in his coffee this evening."
Wyatt laughed. "Good luck. He got his education from Valdosta."
Ida recognized the name. A young man who courted her for a few weeks back home had returned to Illinois from Valdosta. His name was Oliver, and he was entirely pretentious. Even Wyatt had disliked his attitude.
"Then I suppose I will need it," she surmised.

* * *

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the party came to rest in a grove of mesquite trees, Doc's coughing became worse. Ida could see the pain only subtly in his sharp features as he tied his horse near the creek. He hid it well, but her practiced eye was no match for his charade. The sight, to her dismay, made her heart clench.

Ida took a clean tin cup and a creek-smoothed stone and used them to crush the herb into what resembled the remedies she used for tinctures back home. She filled the cup with coffee from Jack's pot near the fire, nodding a thank you to Jack who tipped his hat in return. The most difficult of the tasks would be to approach Doc, who had propped himself back against the willowy trunk of a mesquite tree. He looked to be asleep. His breathing was shallow, though, and his hands, which he had clasped in his lap, were white knuckled. His hat lay next to him, and Ida could see the sheen on his forehead. The ends of his hair clung together with sweat. She steeled herself and approached him.

"Before you suggest something, no—I have no need for assistance," Doc drawled without opening his eyes, his voice sounding strained.
"I just wanted to offer you some coffee."
Doc's eyes fluttered open at that. When he saw Ida's silhouette against the firelight, he began to try and push himself up off the ground. Funny he should show manners now, Ida thought.
"No, no—stay where you are." Ida spread her jacket on the ground in front of him and settled down on it. "It's a little late to begin treating me like a lady, don't you think," Ida quipped. Her wittiness was no match for his, but maybe, she thought, she could disarm him a bit before trying to force the medicated coffee.
"You wouldn't be bringing me coffee unless you had an ulterior motive, Miss Earp," Doc rasped as he settled back against the tree.
"Of course not. It has got an herb in it—it's medicinal. I just figured you needed something. You look terrible."
"Why, thank you, Darlin'," Doc drawled with a lopsided smile. The man looked ready to keel over and die, and still his sarcasm prevailed.
"Keep your head on your shoulders, Doc. Just do me a favor and drink this—maybe you'll feel good enough to sleep through the night without waking us all up."
Doc disregarded her jab. "What kind of herb are you poisoning me with this evening," he asked as he leaned his head against the trunk closed his eyes again.
"It's called feverfew. It should bring your fever down, and with some luck, relieve the pain."
With his eyes still closed, Doc raised an eyebrow. "You suppose so?"
"Yes, I suppose so. Just humor me, Doc. It can't hurt."
He opened his eyes slightly. "If I drink this, you'll let me light one." There was a smug grin plastered on his face. "Now, there's a fine deal."
Ida groaned. The man was stubborn, and he needed the medicine. She knew it would only be on his terms.
"You can smoke one. But please, just the one. And drink all the coffee."
Doc looked like he'd won a game a poker. He reached for the tin cup, which Ida gingerly handed over. The chill in the night air had grown worse in the little time she was sitting in front of him, so she stood, shaking the dust from her jacket and pulling it on.
"Let me know if you feel any different tomorrow, Doc." Ida watched as he gulped the coffee down. He was far too eager to get to that cigarette. He set the cup down in the dust with a hollow clink.
"You don't plan to monitor your patient, Miss Earp?" He raised his eyebrow. Ida might've said Doc sounded playful if his eyes weren't red-rimmed and mirthless.
"I figured you'd want some privacy." She gestured to the small box he had pulled from his inner pocket.
Doc didn't answer, just pulled out a paper coffin nail and placed it between his teeth before tucking the box back in his pocket.
"Would you be so kind as to light this for me, darlin'?" The cigarette dangled from his lips, slightly muffling his words. He reached up, taking the cigarette between his index and middle finger. He held it out to her expectantly.