This fanfiction is
intended for mature readers due to the vivid depiction of a consensual adult
relationship. The setting is First
Season, post-The Preacher. I am not a doctor, and none of the medical
information used in this chapter is accurate or remotely sensible. But I assure you I did it all for the sake of
good drama. Oh, and don’t get me started
on the geographical inaccuracies….
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Matt anxiously shook the limp form of the unconscious doctor,
but there was no response beyond his maddening snoring. “Dammit, he’s passed out!” Matt exclaimed in
disgust as he retrieved the empty laudanum bottle, gingerly sniffing it.
Ruefully, Ware shook his head. “I was afraid something like this would
happen. Crandall’s not very reliable,
unfortunately. I’m sorry, Dillon. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Kitty’s burning up with fever!” Matt ran a hand through his
hair worriedly and glanced back at Kitty’s perspiring face, her body shivering
with chills beneath the bedclothes.
“What am I going to do? Is there
another doctor in town?” Matt began noisily
rifling through cabinets and bureaus around the room searching for extra
blankets.
“No, I’m afraid there isn’t,” Ware jammed his hands
helplessly in his pockets. “Probably the
closest doctor is in…”
“Dodge,” Matt finished for him, puffing out a discouraged sigh. “But the telegraph wires are down because of
the flood. It would take a day to ride
to Dodge for Doc and another day to get him back here.” Matt lowered his voice, “Kitty could die by
then.” He spread a warm quilt over Kitty
and tucked it snugly around her.
“Tell you what. I’ll
check at the telegraph office to see if the wires have been repaired. You write down what you want sent. If the wires are still down, I’ll ride to
Dodge and get your doctor.”
Matt looked at him hard.
“You sure, Ware?”
“Absolutely,” Ware answered with conviction. “You need to stay here and take care of Miss
Russell. I’ll be glad to help out in any
way I can.”
“I appreciate it, Sheriff.”
Matt hurried to Dr. Crandall’s desk and rummaged until he located a scrap
of paper and a pencil, hastily scratching out a note, “TO DR GALEN ADAMS DODGE
CITY STOP KITTY SICK WITH FEVER STOP COME TO CIMARRON IMMEDIATELY STOP SIGNED
MATT DILLON” Matt folded the paper and
handed it to Ware. “I sure hope Western
Union’s lines are back up. The sooner we
get word to Doc, the sooner we can get him here.” The quick glance he gave the sheriff was
pleading. “Please hurry, Ware.”
The sheriff looked into Dillon’s agitated features. “I’ll take care of it right away,
Marshal. I know the young lady must mean
a lot to you.”
Matt averted his eyes self-consciously as Ware quickly
headed out the door. Then Matt started
looking for a pan to put some cool water in and a cloth to bathe Kitty’s
fevered skin. It would be a long wait
for Doc.
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Doc was busy making placebos for old Mrs. Elma Prudlin who
lived down by Silver Creek. In the ten
years he’d known Mrs. Prudlin, he’d never seen a healthier specimen of a human
being. But she was a supreme hypochondriac
of the highest order. It was easier just
to give her foolin’ pills than to argue with her about her nonexistent
symptoms. Just then, someone banged on
his door urgently.
Doc called, “Come in!” Under his breath he muttered irritably, “…before
you tear my dadblamed door down…”
Chester burst through the door and stood with his hand on
his chest, catching his breath.
Doc shook his head. “Chester,
I might have known it was you. What on
earth…?”
“Doc, it’s Miss Kitty...” Chester exclaimed excitedly.
Doc’s ears perked up at Kitty’s name. “What is it?” he worriedly asked.
“Well, I just got this here.” Chester held out a telegram. “Barney down to the telegraph office asked me
t’ bring it to ya’ quick.”
Doc adjusted his glasses on his nose and read the
message. His eyes widened and his face
paled a bit. “Good heavens…” he murmured. “Kitty must be awful sick if Matt is askin’
for help.”
Chester quickly nodded, pressing his lips in a tight,
worried line. “Yep, that’s what I
figgered, Doc. You want me t’ git yer
horse from Moss Grimmick’s?”
Doc’s eyes narrowed as he scrubbed at his mustache. “I’d appreciate that, Chester.” He grabbed his black medical bag and began hurriedly
packing supplies. “And I want you to
send a telegram to Matt for me. I’ll
write down what I want you to send…”
“Sure thing, Doc.
Anything else I kin do, you jes lemme know.”
Doc grunted wordlessly as he grabbed a stubby pencil and a slip
of paper and urgently began scrawling.
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Drowning, desperately struggling
for air. Gasping, panting for breath
that refuses to come. Coughing until
there’s nothing but an awful ache left in my lungs. It feels like something terribly heavy is sitting
on my chest… Matt, please get it off
me. Can’t breathe… Matt? Where are you?
“I’m here, Kitty. You’re okay.
Just breathe slowly. That’s
it. You’ve sweated through your
nightgown and sheets. Let’s get this off
you. Raise your arms for me."
Crisp, dry sheets on
hot, hurting skin. Cool cloth against
feverish face. Eyes burning, throat
scorched, chest leaden. I am chilled to
the bone. Shaking and shivering and can’t
stop. Matt lays another blanket on top
of me and pulls it up to my chin. Matt
will take care of me. I feel myself
sinking into the bed, so, so heavy, and then my world darkens…
“Kitty, wake up and
take this for me. Doc wired me that
quinine will help bring your fever down.
I know it tastes bad… Good
girl. Now lie back and rest… Here, let me cover you back up. Are you warm?
Do you need another blanket? I
promise Doc will be here soon. He’s on
his way, honey, just hold on...”
Cool, wet rag strokes
my neck, my chest, my arms, my hands.
Matt’s voice rumbles comforting words low in my ear. He never leaves. He stays with me. He knows I need him. I wish I could stop coughing. I wish I could breathe. Why won’t this end? Matt, will you hold my hand? Peaceful blackness slips over me yet again, a
dark fog that pulls me down and down and won’t let me go... But through it all Matt’s strong fingers lace
in mine and hold on…
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“Young lady, I need
you to drink this for me.”
Doc. His strong arm encircles my shoulders,
supporting me. I cough at the bitter
taste. He gently pats my back. “Kitty, let’s prop you up on some pillows so
maybe you can breathe a little better.” I
can feel Doc’s cold stethoscope on my chest.
He listens and listens some more.
I hear his voice. Then
Matt’s. Whispering… He says something about my heart… And digitalis... What is that?
My chest hurts.
When I cough, there is
a sharp knife stabbing hatefully inside me.
Doc holds me again and touches my wrist with his fingers. “Easy, honey.
Now I need you to drink this down, too.
I know it tastes bad, but you’ve got to take it to get better.”
More vile medicine
burns a fiery path down my raw throat.
It chokes me and I don’t think I can keep it down.
Matt carefully holds a
glass of water to my lips and whispers soothingly as I try to swallow it. I love him so. He takes such good care of me. I don’t understand why he’s so good to
me. Then blackness engulfs my world once
more…
Sam Keeler eerily looms
over Matt’s battered body, ugly fist clenched, eager to punch him again. Jagged streaks of lightening reveal Matt’s bruised
and bloodied face to my horrified gaze, one eye swollen shut as he looks to me
in excruciating pain. I throw myself
across Matt’s chest before Keeler can strike, but he grabs me with one beefy
hand and hurls me to the ground like a rag doll into the mud, nearly knocking
the wind out of me. “Kitty,” Matt
groans. “Help me… Help me… Please…” He beseechingly reaches out to me, thunder
rolling in my ears, and calls my name again as Keeler smashes his hammy fist
into Matt’s swollen eye. Suddenly, I
look down and there is a rifle in my hands, water streaming down the
barrel. I see my finger pulling the
trigger... A dead man falls at my
feet… Empty eyes staring at me…
“Shhhh…. It’s okay, honey, it’s okay… You’re just having another bad dream.” Matt is holding me to his chest, stroking my damp
hair and soothingly rubbing my perspiring back.
“You’re soaking wet again.” He calls
over his shoulder. “Doc, I need some
more dry sheets.”
Matt bathes me with a clean,
damp cloth and tells me that Sam Keeler is gone forever. He can’t bother us ever again. I feel the cool air brush sweetly over my
heated skin as they change the bedding I’ve sweated through. Matt lightly caresses my face as my glassy
eyes wearily drift closed. I last thing
I hear is Matt murmuring to Doc about a black night on the prairie, a night
I’ll never forget as long as I live…
tbc
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