The Saga of Miles Forrest

I ran into the diner, “Where’s Molly?” I hollered going over to Marta.
“She’s at the Doc’s, hurry!” replied Marta.
Bursting back out the doorway I went across the street. I opened the door to Doc Jones’ office and there was Molly on the floor, holding Doc’s head in her lap. There was a large gash across his head with blood streaming down his face. Doc’s wife was coming over with a cloth to wipe his face and clean his wound.
“He alive?” I asked softly.
Molly nodded yes, and then said, “The man that Charlie shot must have hit him, or one of his friends, as he is no longer here.”
I saw Doc jerk his head. “Easy, easy Doctor Jones,” said Molly. “You’ve been hit hard and the bleeding has stopped, so don’t get it started again.”
His wife had wiped the wound clean, but it was still seeping some blood. She had run something under his nose and that was when he jerked his head; some kind of smelling salts I guess.
“Let me help him to the bed,” I said.
He was conscious now, and was able to help us get him over to the bed. “Let me sit for a minute,” he ordered. “I want to see if the room will stop swirling. If it doesn’t I’ll lie back.”
I grabbed Molly and took her back out to the office. “We’ve got a problem,” I said and then looked toward where the Doc was. “I found Judge Klaser in a similar condition, only he was tied up as well. I believe he has been tied for a couple of days; don’t know when he was hit and left. Doc needs to look him over.”
“What’s that?” came a slurred voice from the other room.
I heard a struggle, his wife telling him to get back on the bed. There was the shuffle of feet and I saw Doc standing in the doorway. “Who’s hurt?”
“Judge Klaser, he may have a cracked skull.”
He moved toward his desk, then stumbled, but caught himself on the edge of the desk. “I can get a litter and bring him over here.”
“No, he shouldn’t be moved!”
“Neither should you!” exclaimed his wife. “Help me get him back in bed.”
“No! I’m all right. I need to check on him. Moving him with a cracked skull could do more damage,” he said as he checked what was in his bag. “Miles, help me over to his place.”
“Stubborn fool!” cried his wife, but she took the bag from his hands and followed us out. Molly was on one side and I was on the other. He was walking fairly normally.
Tommy had been standing outside and I flicked him a dime, “Go get the marshal, bring him to the Judge’s house.” Grabbing the dime, he ran off toward the marshal’s office.
Doc was trying to hurry himself along, but once in a while he would grab his head. He must have a terrible headache. We were about a block from the Judge’s home when Doc stopped and bent over and began puking his guts out. After several seconds, he stood up straight, reached for his handkerchief to wipe his mouth.
“Sorry, I have a concussion. Let’s go,” and off he went making us hurry to catch up to his side.
Helping the Doc up the couple of steps we went in the door. “He’s upstairs. I was able to lay him on the bed.”
The stairs were narrow; Doc started up first. “Miles, you stay behind me in case I get dizzy and fall backwards.”
We made it up the stairs with no problems, however, when we went into the Judge’s room the Doc bent over again. This time he didn’t vomit, but said, “Help me to the chair,” and he sat with a big sigh.
Sweat was coming from his brow. “Miles, I’m going to stand and I want you to move the chair over by the bed. Then come get me and help me to it. Molly, hold onto me so I don’t fall.”
We did as ordered and finally Doc was sitting by the edge of the bed. “Molly, go get some water, then put some on to heat. Miles, light the lamp and turn it up so I can see better.”
I heard a little commotion at the bottom of the stairs and Molly proclaim, “He’s upstairs,” then heard the heavier footsteps of boots. It was Billy Denton.
I was holding the lamp so Doc could get a good look at the Judge’s head. Good thing too, for my inclination was to go slap Billy senseless. “His skull is cracked, but not bad,” he paused. “But that doesn’t mean much to the brain. It just depends how hard and what part of the brain.” Almost as planned his wife handed him some scissors.
He began to cut away the hair, and then asked for a razor. “I need to get all the hair off.”
Billy had been standing there for a minute, his mouth open looking at the blood on the floor and the Judge lying unconscious on the bed. Then he had to go open his mouth. “Now, what is goin’ on here!” he exclaimed.
I sat the lamp down…