Three riders approached the cabin, their horses riding through the tracks left by the men hours before when they left. After dismounting, one man, seeming the leader, pushed Doc Jones towards the cabin. “Take care of the horses, Benny,” he gritted, the cold making his face stiff. Then he shoved Doc again, “Inside!”
Upon entering the cabin, they were greeted by a blast of warmth coming from the fireplace to the back of the room. To the right was a cot with a man lying on it. Another man was sitting in a chair in front of the fire, his face haggard from pain. The two men took off their coats, with a nod from one, Doc Jones moved to the man on the cot. “Remember, Doc, he dies so do you.”
Doc arrived at the side of the little bed. Looking down, his eyes widened. He then glanced over at the man near the fire. Turning he started to say something, but the man at the fire quipped, “Too late, he’s already dead.”
The eyes of the man, widened in anger toward the voice. “You were to keep him alive!” He drew his gun pointing it at the man in the chair.
“Don’t Goss! There was nothin’ I could do, not with my arm the way it is.”
Doc Jones was bending down beside the man on the cot, examining him. “There was nothing he could have done for this man. His insides were all torn up by the bullet.” The man leveled his gun then at Doc, anger filled his face when the door burst open. The man called Benny entered. Goss turned quickly taking a step toward the man, his gun now on him. “Goss!” hollered the man from the fire.
Something clicked in the man as he lowered his gun, then started walking to the cot, holstering it on the way. “Get out of the way!” he snapped, pushing Doc Jones from the man. Doc went to stand beside the man at the fire. Goss knelt down at the bedside, grasping the hand of the dead man. “Bill, you stupid fool,” he muttered in anguish.
He sat there for several moments in silence, then stood drawing his gun again. “I guess I don’t need you anymore.”
“You’ve a wounded man here. I need to check his arm or he could get gangrene or lockjaw,” shouted Doc. “So don’t get hasty with that gun or another one of your men will die.”
“Goss, for goodness sake, let him look at my arm. It’s painin’ me something fierce.”
Benny started moving toward the fire wanting to get warm. “Dave, he’s right. At least let the doctor look at Mason’s arm.”
“Let’s go over by the lamp on the table.”
Dave Goss grabbed the nearly full whiskey bottle that was on the table, then took the chair where Mason had been sitting. He didn’t watch the two, only stared into the fire. Benny leaned forward, “I’m sorry about Bill, I truly am.” Goss turned his gaze momentarily to his comrade, then took a drink straight from the bottle.
Doc Jones had cut both the shirt sleeve and undershirt off the man. “Mister, this arm’s in bad shape.” He looked over at Goss, “What happened for two of you to get shot up?” he asked, then hesitated before adding, “you must be Dave Goss. Didn’t know you were in the region.”
“Well, you know it now,” Goss snarled. “Take care of him while you can still do something useful.”
Doc looked at the man as he began to clean the blood from around the wound. “Want to tell me what happened?”
The man, Mason, looked over at Goss who simply shrugged his shoulders, taking another drink. “Got shot in Cortez,” he stopped, looking at Goss again before continuing. “Robbery went sour.”
The man groaned as Doc Jones began his examination. In a few minutes, he looked at the man shaking his head. “Mister, that bullet shattered your bone, and that isn’t all it’s still in your arm. Any movement could cause the bullet or one of the bone shards to cut an artery. Son…” he was interrupted by someone pounding on the door.
There was silence, but tension filled the room. “Benny, see who it is.”
Opening the door, a man stood there, “I saw the smoke and hoped I might come in to get warm, and maybe spend the night. I was going to try to make it to Mancos, but my horse is plum wore out.”
He didn’t wait to be invited in, but stepped inside the cabin. “I hope I’m not a bother,” he said, nodding at the men, his eyes stopping momentarily on those of Doc Jones.
“You best just go on your way, Mister,” came the voice of Benny at the door.
“Can’t, my horse would never make it. Let me warm up and I’ll go out to care for him. If’n yuh have some coffee I sure could use a cup. Don’t mind me, I’ll stay out of your way, I just want to get warm.”
The stranger walked with assurance over to the fire standing to the right of Goss stretching out his hands toward the fire. “Looks like you’ve had some trouble here.”
“Mister, you don’t know the half of it…”