It is better to spend your time at funerals than at festivals. For you are going to die, and you should think about it while there is still time.” –Ecclesiastes 7:2 (NLT)
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It took twenty minutes to travel the short distance to Doc’s house as virtually nobody had been on the streets. I saw a light on in Solly’s Emporium but the walks hadn’t been cleared. Maybe since it had stopped snowing, movement in town would begin. I smiled as I walked by Solly’s. I had been meaning to ask him if the new name had improved his business.
I banged on Doc’s door, and was quickly answered by Edith. “Miles, what in the world are you doing out in this weather?” she questioned, while at the same time opening the door and waved me in.
After taking off my hat, and wiping my boots off on the mat by the door, I replied, “I may be an ol’ grouch, but I don’t plan on hibernatin’ for the winter. Besides, I need Doc up at the jail.”
There was some movement coming from the kitchen. Doc appeared from around the corner. “Doc, you need to come with me. The prisoner who was wounded is throwin’ fits.”
“Give me a minute to put on some boots and grab my coat. Edith, will you fetch my bag from the office?” Fifteen minutes later we were trudging back up the trail I had made. Because of that, walking was easier and we made better time.
Lucas was adding wood to the stove and had kept the door to the cell room open so more heat could enter there. Lucius was no longer sitting on top of his brother who was lying on the cot very still with his eyes open. Lucas handed me the key and I hastily opened the cell for Doc to enter.
“Doc, uh, is he dead?” questioned his brother. “I’ve never seen anyone sleep with their eyes open, and I checked to see if he was breathing.”
There was no answer as Doc was busy shedding his coat, then pulling out the stethoscope from his bag. “Hmm, good, good…”
Lucius turned to look at me; I just shrugged. Doc put his hand over the man’s eyes then pulled downward. It was successful and the man’s eyes closed, and a deep sigh came from him.
Doc scratched his cheek then looked at us. “Tell you the truth son, neither have I. He is in something which is called a comatose state. I really don’t know much about it. There are some studies being done back East, but it seems that the injury to his head caused it.”
“Doc, he just jumped up, then started banging his head against those bars. I had to force him down and after getting him on the cot sat on him so’s he couldn’t get up. I thought he was going loco.”
“Can I be of help?” came the voice from the doorway. It was Rev. Chapman.
“Sure, Parson, come on in,” replied Doc.
The preacher nodded at Lucius, greeted us, “Miles, Doc, Lucas…” Walking over to the man he stiffened a bit then knelt down beside him. Placing one hand on the man’s head, the other on his chest he began to pray. In a few minutes the man took a deep breath, then another, then turned his head to the side to look at the preacher. A half-smile formed on his lips then he closed his eyes.
Lucius was watching, wide-eyed. “What did you do to my brother?”
“Just asked the good Lord to give the man rest, peace, and comfort. Which I think is happening.”
Doc stooped beside the sleeping man, then nodded at us. “He’s sound asleep. Let’s get on out and leave him be.”
We walked out and Lucius continued with us until I put my hand on his chest. Shaking my head, “Your home currently is in there. Plus you need to keep an eye on your brother.”
“Uh, Marshal, I don’t want to be a bother, but do yuh think we could have something to eat besides beans? I know the kid means well, but there are only so many ways you can fix beans, oh, and by the way, he don’t know how to fix coffee.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” then walked out to join the others in the office.
Doc was questioning the parson about him being out in the weather.
“I need to be checking on my parishioners, plus anybody else who might need some sort of assistance. Some of the older folk might be needing some help. I’m heading over now to see Sister Greta. Then on down the road just checking on others.”
“Lucas, why don’t you run down to Peabody’s, see if he’s open, and buy something that you can cook up here for your prisoners. Parson, when he gets back I’ll join up with you.”
Doc was by the stove, holding the coffeepot. “Think I’ll stay here a while, keep a check on the patient.” He shook the pot, “and make up some coffee.”