Foolish Games | Tombstone

Chapter Ten

"Shit."

Wyatt scanned his surroundings, uncannily reserved. Quick hands dove into the removed saddlebags of his horse, pulling out a threadbare blanket, easily identifiable as an indigenous work of art with its geometric pattern. The ex-lawman couldn't quite recall where he had picked it up; it seemed like the thing had always been with him when he needed it, whether for protection from the cold or rainy skies. Now, it would serve well again, draped over the trembling body of the ravaged young woman.

Crouching down to the loose heap of straw, Wyatt gingerly lifted Clara from her back. While bringing her forward, she let out an audible hiss. Her features contorted into a painful grimace as Clara's hands pressed against the tender flesh of her privates. It burned like a thousand icy needles, traumatized by the brutal impact without compassion. She could still feel Johnny inside of her and sobbed.

Awkwardly, Wyatt briefly considered what he should do. How would Clara respond to him if he tried to touch her, let alone move her? Hearing her weep made up his mind, and he told her in hushed tones that he would pick her up. Careful to keep the blanket between her exposed flesh and his bare hands, Earp scooped her up, frantically apologizing when Clara whirred again at the sudden movement. It made him feel funny, holding her in his arms, outstretched away from his chest. And now that he had her, where was he supposed to go?

The Grady home was too far from town limits and too far from any help. So where should he take her, back to his place? No, he couldn't do that. Mattie was most likely higher than Kite in the summertime, and that would only cause further upsets. Perhaps to Virgil or Morgan? Damn it, no. That wouldn't work. At that hour, the options were limited. In a hurry, he decided to take Clara to the boarding house. Surely Doc would know what to do? Hell, Wyatt didn't. He was in over his head.

"You're gonna be okay, Clara. I'm gonna get you some help." The words fell from his lips with stoic conviction. For all of his composure, Wyatt had a thousand questions racing through his head.

How the hell did this happen? Who the hell did this? Why was Clara alone without an escort, anyway? All of that would have to wait for now, though.

Cursing lowly to himself, Wyatt walked briskly as he could through the street without bringing too much attention to himself and Clara. Thankfully, most of the townsfolk were indoors, taking to the frivolities of the saloons. It made it easy to get to the threshold of the boarding house without drawing unwanted attention their way. Once inside, Wyatt rounded the same corner Clara had hours earlier, knowing Doc would still be awake and sitting at his usual table.

Hollering out for his friend, Earp didn't stop, taking large strides to reach the staircase leading to the rooms above. Holliday was as Wyatt expected, seated at the round table in the company of Kate but to Wyatt's surprise, his little brother, Morgan, was there as well. They had been talking in hushed tones. It wasn't Doc who answered Wyatt's call.

"What happened?" Kate stood from her chair, quick to catch up.

"What does it look like? God damn it, Doc! I need your help!" Wyatt was louder this time, his eyes holding onto a fear he'd never known before that moment.

In another coughing fit, Holliday handed his room key to Morgan, who followed up after his brother, squeezing past him to open up Doc's quarters. The pained consumptive, on the other hand, was slow to rise and follow, triggered into a state of concern at the frantic wavering in Wyatt's voice.

Holding onto the handrail attached to the stair's banister, John Henry climbed the steps at a steady pace. His ears burned as the conversation between the other two men resounded against the thin walls of his bedroom before reaching him.