When the Strength of Men Wavers - A Tombstone Fanfiction

Chapter Eight - Paying For His Sins

Ida awoke to the painful sound of a relentless coughing fit. Her eyes opened to midday sunlight filtering through glimmering leaves. The remainder of the storm clouds drifted overhead. How long had she slept?

Ida cast her bleary gaze to where she found Doc's hunched body wracked with wet coughs. Her brow furrowed when he pulled out a handkerchief to cover his mouth; it came away to reveal a blossoming rosette of blood. She pushed herself up from the ground and began hurrying to his side. Doc wretched out one last cough and slumped back against the tree, his breathing more labored than she had ever seen it. His eyes closed.

"Doc?" She rested a careful hand on his upper arm. "Doc, are you hearing me?"

Doc swallowed hard before letting out a breathless, "Yes, ma'am."

Ida sighed with relief; he hadn't passed out, meaning oxygen was still making its way into his bloodstream. He certainly wasn't right as rain but not in a terribly dire condition, either, she evaluated. His clothes were dampened from the rain, no doubt causing an uncomfortable chill. She removed his coat from her person and cringed when she realized the inside was moist from her own rain-washed clothes. It would have to do.

"I'm sorry, Doc. I got your coat damp." Ida draped it over his languid frame.

"Mm," he rasped, one side of his mouth quirked up, "--a small price to pay."

Ida hadn't a clue what he meant, but she left it. He wasn't particularly sharp in the moment after an endeavor like that and was likely to make little sense. She left him to catch his breath.

As Wyatt planned to set out before mid-afternoon, the men were bustling to get their things arranged on their horses and all saddlebags cinched tight. Ida moved to join them in their efforts.

Soon, Ruby was nickering a greeting as Ida finally approached with her saddle pad.

"Eager to get a move on, huh?" Ida smiled and patted the mare's strong shoulder. She too was eager to leave this place—to forget the events and crooked emotions that had transpired in the few hours they stayed. Moments later, Wyatt appeared on the other side of Ruby, concern painted on his face.

"Ida, I'm going to saddle and pack Doc's horse." He glanced behind him at a staggering Doc who steadied himself against a tree. He lowered his voice, "Sherman will lead Texas's horse, and I want you to keep an eye on him-," he nodded toward Doc, "-while we ride. Alright?"

"Sir yes, sir," Ida muttered, continuing to adjust the billet strap.

"Sorry, I–" Wyatt paused, thinking. "I just worry about the man. You understand."

Whatever did he mean?

"Well... yes. I'm concerned you'll be counting on him and he won't be up to the task," Ida explained while retightening the saddle bags.

"That's all, then?"

Ida paused, shooting Wyatt a confused look.

"It just seems you care–maybe a little more than usual," he spoke pointedly.

Ida scowled. "What I'm concerned about, Wyatt, is our wounded men. Both of them."

Wyatt threw his hands up in defense. "Just an observation. Nothing meant by it." The glint in his eyes said otherwise. She narrowed her own at her brother's retreating back.

Soon, the party was heading up the slope, out of the creek valley, and into the open air.

* * *

Wyatt set the pace, paying mind to Texas. Texas had grumbled and waved it off, saying he was doing just fine, but the lie was evident in the older man's pallor. Ida made a mental note to change his wrappings at the next stop.