The Good Samaritan

 

By Anita Sanchez

 

The young man was slumped over the saloon table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him.  He lifted his head and ran his hand through his curly light hair.  “Hey, Joe,” he called to the bartender, who was polishing glasses behind the counter.  “I need another one over here.”

 

The saloon was almost deserted, but a few tables had casual drinkers. The bartender, a fat man in a neat bow tie, sighed and shook his head.  “The big game’s gonna start in a little while, kid, if you stayed sober you might not lose all of your money this time.”

 

“Oh, shut up, you’re worse than my father,” said the boy angrily.  “Just gimme another, I’ve got enough money for that.”

 

The bartender sighed again.  “All right, Roy, but it’s the road to perdition,” he said, getting down another bottle off the shelf. 

 

“Yeah, I know,”said the young man.  “I been there.”

 

 

 

Kid withdrew his attention from a dull newspaper article on grain prices, and glanced out the window of the hotel room.  There wasn’t a clock in the bare room, just an armchair and a bed, but by the fading light outside he guessed in must be close to sunset. He tossed the paper on the floor and stretched restlessly.

 

“Come on, Heyes,” he said, yawning. “I’m falling asleep here, let’s get going. We came all the way over from Moriahville for this high stakes game they told us about, let’s be sure we get in on it.”  He glanced over at Heyes, who was stretched out on the bed.  The only answer was a gentle snore.  Heyes was fast asleep, his half of the newspaper draped over his chest.  Kid got up and buckled on his gunbelt.  “Come on,” he said, whacking Heyes with a pillow to get him moving.

 

Heyes just groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head.  Kid grabbed it and whacked him again.  “Let’s go, up and at’em,” he said.

 

“Drop dead,” mumbled Heyes.  “I’m tired.”

 

“Come on, you can sleep after we make some money,” said Kid.  “That hundred bucks from the cattle drive ought to be burning a hole in your pocket right now, let’s go.” 

 

“Okay, okay, you go ahead, I’ll be down in a minute,” said Heyes, rolling over on his back.  Kid nodded and went downstairs.

 

It wasn’t long before Kid began to get the feeling that something was amiss. He wasn’t as good as spotting a cardsharp as Heyes was, but he’d absorbed enough of Heyes’s sixth sense to know when things weren’t on the level.  He kept looking over at the stairs that led to the hotel rooms, wishing Heyes would show up. It took Kid several hands to figure out that the man in the suit was doing something shifty, but he couldn’t tell what. 

 

He casually glanced down at the man’s gunbelt, which he wore tied down for a fast draw.  The holster was cut low, as was Kid’s own, for a smoother draw, and looked well used.  Kid sighed.  He decided to keep staying out of trouble his priority, and figured it might be best to drop out of the game till Heyes came downstairs.

 

Another hand was dealt, and Kid folded for the third time in a row.  He pushed back his chair, and went to the bar for some refreshment.  He was surveying the game, trying to spot any sign of cheating, when suddenly the young man who had been drinking jumped to his feet.  “You’re cheating!” he shouted at the man with the panama hat.  The boy was a bit unsteady on his feet and weaved a bit, but his speech was perfectly clear.

 

“You’re drunk,” replied the man with casual contempt.  “Go find somewhere to sober up, and leave us in peace.”

 

Kid looked at the young man.  He recognized the stubborn, tight look on the boy’s face.  He’d felt that way himself so many times, when he was young, just learning the fast draw, trying to stare down an older man, more scared of not being taken seriously than of getting hurt.  He sighed.  It seemed like a long time ago.

 

Kid could see that the youngster was getting himself in over his head.  Seemed like this kid hadn’t yet learned to stop and think, check out an opponent’s gun belt, look the other guy over carefully before getting in too deep.  The kid’s gun belt was stiff and wasn’t tied down to give a smooth draw.   He’d never get his gun out of the holster before the other man did.

 

The argument was proceeding along fairly predictable lines.  “I want my money back¼shut up and get out of here, kid¼ no way, mister¼ you want to back that up?”  It all sounded depressingly familiar to Kid.  He sighed again.  Years of experience, and hanging around with the ever-cautious Heyes, had taught Kid restraint, but this young guy seemed bent on killing himself.  The man in the panama hat rose slowly, fingertips twitching near his holster.  The bystanders who’d been trying to intervene fell silent, and moved out of the line of fire. 

 

Kid pushed himself up off the bar where he was leaning, and sauntered back over to the poker table, a carefully practiced casual look on his face.  “Excuse me, sir,” he said politely.  All heads swiveled to stare at him, and he felt uncomfortably conspicuous.  “Excuse me, but I’m forced to agree with the young man here,” he said to the cardsharp.  “I also had a strong feeling that all was not well with that game.  Why don’t you find yourself another game, and then there won’t be any trouble?”  He smiled pleasantly, but knew it wouldn’t work.

“Now there’s no need to get all…”

 

The man went for his gun just as Kid had predicted.  The man’s hand was still closing on the gun handle as Kid’s gun was leveled at his chest.  “…to get all hot and bothered,” Kid finished.  “Like I said, you find another game, and we can all just relax.”  The man blustered a bit, but finally turned away.  Kid decided not to try to reclaim any of the money he’d lost, and the man shoved his way out of the swinging doors, muttering to himself.  Kid turned to the young man, and smiled, but the boy brushed past him without a word, and headed for the bar.

 

As the mutter in the saloon died down , Kid caught sight of Heyes standing at the foot of the stairs leading down from the rooms.  He gave Heyes an apologetic grin and a shrug.  But for once Heyes returned no answering grin, but frowned at him, shaking his head, and stalked over to the bar.

 

Kid came up and lounged on the bar beside him, waving a finger to get the bartender’s attention.  “Sorry,” he said in a low voice.  “I know I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

“Damn right,” snapped Heyes. “What’d you do a stupid thing like that for?”

 

Kid frowned.  “I said I was sorry.”  The bartender sauntered over and they each ordered a whiskey.  They stood in silence till the bartender had poured their drinks and wandered away, then Heyes gave Kid an angry glance.

 

“Sorry, huh, well, tell that to the sheriff, he ought to be stopping by soon. There was a deputy in here and he watched the whole thing with great interest.”  He rubbed his eyes with one hand, and downed his drink at a gulp. “When are you gonna learn, it does no good to go around helping total strangers out of whatever stupid hole they’ve dug themselves into.  It just comes right back up and hits you over the head from behind when you’re not looking.”  He put his glass back down on the bar with an angry snap.

 

“Oh, the hell with you,” said Kid.  “Nobody recognized me, and no one got hurt.  Nothing happened.  The sheriff must have a few better things to do.  We’ll leave tomorrow morning and that’ll be that.”

 

“God damn it,” muttered Heyes, and stalked off to the poker table where the game was reassembling

 

Kid finished his drink while thinking up crushing retorts to Hayes’s sarcasm.  He thought of several quite good rejoinders, and had simmered down by the time he finished a second whiskey.  Feeling better, he went back to the game.

 

Things continued to go poorly, however.  Several newcomers had joined in, and they were good, and on the level as far as he could tell.  He lost a few hands, but Heyes, as usual, won steadily. 

But this time things didn’t go as usual.  Heyes raised the stakes again, and soon there were several hundred dollars in the pot.  But when the fat man across the table called, Heyes put down three queens.  The fat man smiled and put down three aces.

 

Kid blinked in astonishment as the fat man raked in the money Heyes had bet—all of their earnings from a full month’s cattle drive.  Kid cast a surreptitious look at Heyes, hoping this was just part of a carefully thought-out scheme, but one look at Heyes’s face told him it wasn’t.  Heyes gave a cheerful smile.  “Well, guess I miscalculated on that one, gentlemen.  That about cleans me out, I’m afraid, so you’ll excuse me.”  He got up.

 

“Sorry to see you go, friend, “ said the fat man, stacking the bills in neat piles.

 

”I can imagine,” said Heyes, and tipped his hat as he walked over to the bar.

 

Kid tossed in his hand, and joined him.  He leaned against the bar next to Heyes, and tried to absorb the idea that they’d just lost a month’s wages.  He thought of the long month of dusty rides, back-breaking work, and rancid chuckwagon food.  It was on the tip of his tongue to say “What’d you do a stupid thing like that for?”  But he glanced over at Heyes, who was leaning on the bar with his face buried in his hands, and frowned, deciding against it.  Heyes seemed to be taking it hard, and that was unusual.  He was leaning against the bar heavily, his drink untouched.

 

Finally Kid gave him a shove with his elbow.  “Hey, don’t worry about it, Joshua,” he said.  “Easy come, easy go.”

 

Heyes started and looked over at him blankly.  Kid got an uneasy sense that something wasn’t right.  “What’s that?” Heyes said vaguely.

 

“You gonna give it another shot?” asked Kid, indicating the poker game with his head.  Heyes looked over at the poker table and Kid had the feeling he’d forgotten it was there.

 

“No, I guess not, not right now,” Heyes said.  “I’m just gonna drown my sorrows here for a while.”  He took a small sip of his drink.

 

“Well, I’ll give it a try,” said Kid. “But I ain’t optimistic, those guys are pretty good.”  Heyes nodded.  “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, looking down into his glass.  “Just lost track of that ace somehow.” He looked up into Kid’s face.  “Sorry, Kid.”

 

Kid frowned. “Are you okay, Hey...Joshua?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” said Heyes impatiently, finishing his drink. “I’m a little tired, that’s all.  I think I’ll go on up to bed soon.”  He waved to the bartender to order another.

Kid played a few more rounds, but couldn’t concentrate. After losing six dollars he decided he’d better quit before they didn’t have enough money left to pay for breakfast.  Heyes had lost everything but the change in his pockets on that last hand.  It was gonna be shoveling manure at the livery stable or washing dishes at the café if their luck didn’t turn tomorrow.

 

Kid got a duplicate room key from the desk clerk.  He knew he’d need it because Heyes always locked the door, especially if he’d had a few drinks.  Heyes hated to let his guard down.  But when Kid got upstairs, he was astonished to find the door unlocked.  He stepped into the room and lit the kerosene lamp.  Heyes was sprawled on the bed, fully dressed even to his gunbelt and boots. This was really unusual.  Kid had seen Heyes this drunk only once or twice before, and then he’d been in a similar state himself, so his memory of it was rather hazy.

 

He grabbed Heyes’s jacket and rolled him over.  Heyes blinked up at him.  “I’m sorry, Kid,” he muttered.  “Didn’t mean to...”  His voice trailed off and his eyes closed.  Kid looked at him, mystified.  Then a sudden thought came to him.  He touched Heyes’s forehead, and drew in his breath sharply.  It was burning hot with fever.

 

This explained the mystery.  Kid swore at himself for not seeing it before.  He pulled off Heyes’s boots and unbuckled his gunbelt and slid it off, then threw a quilt over him.  He sat on the chair opposite the bed and wondered what to do. Probably it was just a touch of summer fever. Maybe Heyes would sleep it off, and be fine in the morning.  Heyes seemed to be asleep, and Kid relaxed, leaning back in the comfortable chair.  It was well after midnight, and he was tired.  He closed his eyes, deciding that he’d turn in soon.  Then his mind wandered back to the poker game, and he was asleep before he knew it.

 

He was awakened abruptly by Heyes’s voice shouting “Kid!  Kid, Look out!” Kid sat up groggily.  The room was filled with the first light of morning, the lamp still burning faintly.  Heyes had raised himself on one elbow and said breathlessly, “Kid they’re coming!  Look out!”

 

Kid looked around the quiet room with bewilderment.  Then he frowned and got to his feet.  He pushed Heyes back down onto the pillow, saying “It’s okay, Heyes, I see them.  We’re okay.”

 

Heyes frowned up at him, staring at him as if he was a stranger.  Kid felt his forehead again.  It was hotter than before.

 

“The posse!” said Heyes urgently. “They’re getting closer.”

 

“Okay,” said Kid.  “We’ll lie low here.”  He gave Heyes a drink of water.  Heyes drank a little, then turned his head impatiently.  “Let’s go!” he said.  “We’ve got to get moving!”

Kid rubbed his face hard with both hands, trying to think.  A town this size surely had a doctor.  But how could he risk calling in a doctor, with Heyes babbling about posses and bank robberies?  Especially in view of the fast draw last night in front of so many people.  He cursed himself for his carelessness.  Heyes was right.  There was no advantage in helping out strangers, it just came back and hit you from behind when you needed it least.

 

Heyes lay limp, breathing fast and shallow.  His hands moved restlessly from time to time.  After a while his eyes opened, and he glanced around the room. 

 

“Hey, Kid,” he said with a weak smile.  “What time is it?”

 

“I don’t know,” said Kid, smiling with relief.  “Early.  How you feeling?”

 

“Awful,” said Heyes.  “I hurt all over.  My side mostly.”

 

“Take it easy, you’ll feel better soon,” said Kid hopefully.

 

“I don’t know,” said Heyes.  “Think you can get the bullet out?  We got to get riding, the posse‘ll be here soon.”  He tossed restlessly.

 

“Heyes, you gotta lie still,” said Kid. “You’re wearing yourself out.”

 

“I’ll try,” said Heyes.  “Can you get the bullet out?”

 

“I’ll try,” said Kid.

 

“You okay?” asked Heyes, frowning up at him.  “You didn’t get hit, too, did you?”

 

“No,” said Kid.  “No, they missed me.”

 

Heyes nodded with a faint smile and his eyes closed.  “That’s good,” he whispered.

 

Kid waited till he seemed to be asleep again, then got up and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.  A town this size surely had a doctor.

 

 

Downstairs the saloon was deserted except for a solitary figure slumped over the table, a half empty bottle in front of him.  Kid recognized the fellow he had helped out last night.  He went over and shook him by the shoulder.  “Hey, friend, sorry to wake up a man with a hangover, but do you know where the doctor’s office is?” 

Kid leaned against the wall of the bedroom and watched the doctor impatiently, tapping a restless foot.  The doctor ignored him and opened his little black leather bag, taking out a stethoscope and unfolding it with meticulous care. 

 

“Well, Doc?” Kid said edgily.  Heyes lay white-faced and limp on the narrow bed.  Occasionally his lips moved and he muttered a few unintelligible words, or his hands moved suddenly and restlessly.  Other than that he might have been dead.  Kid brushed the thought away and drummed his fingers on the bedpost.  “Well, Doc?” he said again.

 

But the doctor refused to be hurried.  He examined Heyes painstakingly, feeling his pulse, peering into his eyes, and listening closely to his breathing.  Finally the doctor folded his stethoscope into thirds, put in a canvas bag, and put the bag in his satchel.  Kid watched all this, forcing himself not to tap his foot again.  The doctor rose from the chair and turned towards the door, but Kid got in his way.

 

The doctor looked up at him for a minute.  “Are you a relative?” he said finally.

 

Somehow the innocuous question made Kid feel cold all over.  “No, I’m not,” he answered.  ”Why?”

 

“Just a friend, then?” said the doctor.  Kid nodded.

 

“Known him long?” continued the doctor conversationally.

 

“Yes,” said Kid shortly.  He searched the doctor’s face for a clue to his meaning.  “Come on, Doctor, what do you think?  Tell me!  He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”

 

The doctor sighed.  “I don’t know, son.  It’s hard to say.”  He looked at Kid narrowly, and then smiled a tight smile.  “Probably.  We’ll just have to wait a bit.”

 

“Wait a bit,” Kid repeated.  “What’s a bit?  I’m not too good at waiting around.”

 

“I can see that,” said the doctor.

 

“So when will he get better, do you think?” 

 

“In a bit,” said the doctor.  “Hard to say.”

 

The doctor took a bottle out of his bag and started writing instructions on the label.  Heyes stirred restlessly on the bed.  “Kid,” he said in a low voice.  “I tell you we’ve gotta get going, the posse’ll be here any minute.”

 

Kid shot a look a the doctor, who appeared not to have heard.  “Take it easy, Joshua,” he said, “I’m right here.” 

 

The doctor handed him the medicine bottle.  “Kid?” he said inquiringly, eyebrows raised. 

 

“I’m, um, his kid brother,” said Kid.  There was a pause.  “Two years younger, “ he added.

 

“I thought you said you weren’t related,” said the doctor.

 

Kid blinked.  “I’m adopted,” he said.

 

“Ah, I see, “ replied the doctor, putting on his hat.  “That must be why you don’t resemble each other much.”

 

“That’s it,” said Kid uneasily.

 

“Be sure he gets that dose every two hours, “ said the doctor.  “I’ll look in again after lunch.”

 

He stepped around Kid, and went out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind him.  The quiet click of the closing door made Kid want to shoot out a window.  He went back over to the bed.

 

“Heyes?” he said, forgetting the danger of being overheard.  The still figure on the bed didn’t respond.  “Heyes?” said Kid more loudly.  “It’s me.  Can you hear me?”  No answer.  Kid went and stared out of the window for a while.

 

He was woken out of a doze in the armchair by a knock on the door.  He came awake and glanced over at Heyes, who was still asleep.  Kid opened the door, expecting to see the doctor’s short figure, and found himself looking at a star pinned on a broad chest.  He took a step backwards and felt his heart sink as he looked up at a six and a half foot tall sheriff.

 

“Um, hello, sheriff, can I help you with something?” Kid asked, concentrating on maintaining an innocent expression on his face.

 

“Well, maybe, mister.  I’d like you to come on down to my office for a chat,” said the sheriff, unsmilingly. 

 

“Oh,” said Kid with a sinking feeling.  As usual, Heyes was right, the sheriff was dropping by to check him out because of the gunfight.  He saw the sheriff’s eye go to his gunbelt, noting the low cut and the thongs around his thigh that tied it down for a smooth draw.

 

“Well, sheriff, I’d be proud to stop by and chat, but my, um, brother’s not feeling well, in fact he’s pretty sick.”

 

“Well, I really need to talk with you, mister, we’ll get the landlady or someone to sit with your...brother,” said the sheriff with narrowed eyes.  Kid was searching for a reply when he heard the creak of the staircase, and saw the doctor’s short figure climbing the stairs.

“The same, I’m afraid,” said Kid, a little bewildered by the doctor’s friendly tone, and use of their first names.

 

“Oh, dear,” said the doctor calmly. “Well, I sent the telegram to your mother, she should be here soon.  She’ll be beside herself with worry, I’m afraid.”  He opened his bag and took out the stethoscope.

 

“You know these fellows, Roy?” asked the sheriff, surprised.

 

“Why, yes, of course, they’re my nephews,” returned the doctor, listening to Heyes’s chest.  “Didn’t you know that?”

 

“No, I didn’t” said the sheriff with a suspicious look at Kid’s poker face.  “Your nephews?”

 

“Yes, my sister Edwina’s boys,” answered the doctor.

 

“They sure don’t resemble each other,” said the sheriff, looking from one to the other.

 

“Well, Thaddeus here was adopted, you see,” said the doctor, giving the medicine bottle a vigorous shake. 

 

“I see,” said the sheriff.  “Well, in that case...”

 

“I’m sure you’ll excuse us, John, but Joshua needs quiet, “ said the doctor.

 

“Oh, of course,” whispered the sheriff, and turned to go.  He turned back with his hand on the knob.  “Then that explains why he helped out...”

 

“Yes,” the doctor broke in sharply.  “That explains it.” 

 

The sheriff nodded and approached Kid, who backed up a step, wondering if it was all a trick and the sheriff was going to whip out handcuffs.  But the sheriff just held out a hand.  “Nice to meet you, Thaddeus,” he said.  “I’ll look forward to meeting your mother.  Hope you’ll have good news for her.”

 

“I hope so,” Kid stammered.

 

“It would be a terrible thing to lose a son,” said the sheriff warmly. 

 

“Yes,” said the doctor shortly.

 

“Thanks, sheriff,” Kid managed, and watched in awe as the sheriff smiled and tiptoed out. 

“Nothing more to do now, but he’s breathing easier.  I’ll look in after dinner.”

 

“You want to tell me what’s going on, Uncle Roy?” asked Kid grimly.

 

“No, son,” replied the doctor with a pleasant smile.  “Get some sleep, you look tired.”  He left, leaving Kid to stare at the door in utter astonishment.

 

He had plenty of chance to wonder about the doctor’s strange behavior over the course of the next few days.  Heyes was often delirious, and on one of the doctor’s visits he confided his entire plan for robbing the Fort Worth bank to the doctor, calling him “Wheat,” and the doctor listened politely and made no comment whatever. 

 

Kid couldn’t figure Doctor Briggs out. He came like clockwork three times a day to check on Heyes, leaving a variety of medicines, and never mentioned money.  Kid couldn’t imagine what all this was going to cost.  He had exactly four dollars, and Heyes had about seventy-five cents in his pockets.  Never once did the doctor mention a fee.  He arranged for Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, to bring up meals on a tray, and cool water, clean linen, and broth.  She brought things with cheerful sympathy, and also never mentioned the subject of payment.  Kid was too exhausted by lack of sleep to worry much about it.  Time started to blur, and he lost track of whether it was night or morning, or what day it was.

 

One night the doctor came back after his usual suppertime visit, around ten o’clock.  He looked Heyes over for a long time; Kid thought he’d never get done fussing with the stethoscope.  Finally he put it away and drew up the armchair.  “Think I’ll stick around for a bit,” he said casually, sitting down.  Kid felt sick. 

 

“He’s pretty bad off, isn’t he?” he asked unsteadily. 

 

“Well, we’ll see,” said the doctor.  “I’ll just stay here for a bit.”

 

Kid paced restlessly up and down.  Finally the doctor looked up from the notebook he was scribbling in, and studied Kid over his glasses.  “Why don’t you go take a walk, son?” he suggested.  “There’s nothing you can do here, and you’re making me nervous.”

 

Kid decided this was a good idea.  He went downstairs to the crowded saloon, and ordered a double.  As he sipped it, he saw the young man from the poker game at the end of the bar, the usual bottle in front of him.  Kid reflected that he seemed to have no other home; every time Kid had come downstairs the guy seemed to be there having another drink.  Kid left his whiskey unfinished, and went out into the street.

 

The town was quiet, the lights out in all the shops and houses. He walked up the main street, and then back down.  Then he did it again.  And again and again.  Finally he noticed Sheriff Harper, leaning against the wall of the Sheriff’s Office and eyeing him, and decided it was time to go back.

When he opened the door the room was dim and quiet.  Heyes lay with closed eyes, for once not tossing around and muttering.  The doctor sat reading by the light of the kerosene lamp, and as he looked up from the book Kid saw that he was reading the Bible.

 

The doctor looked up, and laughed out loud,  reading Kid’s face.  “No, no son, don’t look like that, I’m not fixing to bury him yet.  I’m just passing the time. Actually, I’m going to go home to bed, “ he added, getting up and closing the book.  “I suggest you get some sleep too, son.”  He glanced at the quiet figure on the bed, and patted Kid on the shoulder.  “I think he’ll be fine,” he said, and went out in his usual quiet way.

 

 

 

Kid woke up with a start from yet another doze in the armchair.  The yellow light of morning was seeping through the shutters, and he realized it was after sunrise.  For the past three days, Heyes had been very restless at dawn, the fever rising, but today the room was quiet.  With a sudden chill, Kid looked over to the bed. Heyes lay still.

 

Kid felt an unpleasant sensation down his back.  He rose swiftly and went over to the bed.  He touched Heyes’s forehead, and then his hands.  They were warm, without the burning dryness of the fever.  Heyes sighed and opened his eyes.  He blinked and smiled up at Kid sleepily.  “What time is it?” he murmured.

 

“I don’t know,” answered Kid, looking him over.  “Why do you always want to know what time it is?”

 

“I just like to know, that’s all,” said Heyes, turning his head to look out the window.  “Is it morning?  I’m hungry.”

 

Kid sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled slowly.  “Well, we’ll see what the doc says about breakfast.  Gotta take another dose of this stuff first.”  He picked up the blue medicine bottle.

Heyes surveyed it with distaste.  “Doctor...” he said vaguely.  “I do remember someone else being here...”

 

“Well, I would think so, you been treating him like an old pal,” said Kid, grinning.  “Told him about your entire plan for Fort Worth.  You know, Heyes, it’s a shame we never tried that one, it sounds like a winner.”

 

“What!” said Heyes, aghast.  “Are you joking?”

 

“Nope,” said Kid.  “You kept telling him to look out for the posse, too.  And offering to share the loot with him.”

 

Heyes stared at him.  Finally he said,”Well, what’d he say?  What’d he do?  He must know we’re wanted now...”  He started to push himself up.

A familiar knock on the door interrupted him.  He rose and let Dr. Briggs into the room.  The doctor smiled as soon as he saw that Heyes was awake.

 

“Ah, Mr. Smith,” he said with a professional air.  “You had me a little worried there for a while, but I thought things were looking up last night.”  He fussed over Heyes with the stethoscope, and held the medicine bottle up to the light. “About three more doses left, that should do it, I think.  I’ll stop by tomorrow, but I think you’re out of the woods now.  In fact,” he went on as he strapped up his bag, “there’s a three p.m. stage tomorrow that you might want to consider taking.  Sheriff Harper keeps asking me when Edwina’s getting here.”

 

“Who?” asked Heyes.

 

“Never mind,” said Kid.  “Doc, look, there’s something I’ve got to...”

 

“No, no,” interrupted the doctor sharply, heading for the door.  “I don’t want to know any of your secrets, young man.”

 

“No, no, nothing like that,” said Kid hastily.  “It’s just that...Doc, we haven’t got too much money right now, in fact we haven’t got any money, and I’m afraid we’ll have to owe you for a while...”

 

“Don’t worry about the money, son,” the doctor interrupted.  “There’s no charge.”

 

“What do you mean, no charge?” asked Kid.

 

“I mean you don’t owe me any money,” the doctor explained.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Smith, don’t get up till then.”

 

“Don’t owe you any money?” repeated Kid.  “Are you joking?”

 

“No,” said the doctor, his hand on the doorknob.

 

“But...but you’ve been here three times a day, stayed up all night, medicine and I don’t know what all–plus the hotel bill...”

 

“That’s taken care of, no charge.”  The doctor’s voice was final.

 

Kid was speechless.  Heyes said, frowning,”Why?  Why in the world would you do something like that for two strangers?”

 

The doctor considered him for a moment.  “Ever hear the story of the Good Samaritan, Mr. Smith?  Who turned aside, out of his way, to help a stranger?”

 

"Sure, but it’s just a story.  That kind of thing doesn’t happen,” said Heyes suspiciously.

 

“That’s what I thought, too,” said the doctor.  “Take all three of those doses, now.”  He left, closing the door quietly behind him.  Heyes and Kid looked at each other, baffled.

 

“Somebody’s crazy,” said Heyes finally.

 

“Must be,” said Kid, shaking his head.  He sat back down on the edge of the bed and smiled at Heyes.  “Want some breakfast?” he asked.

 

 

 

The doctor made his way downstairs.  The young man was seated at his usual table, a half empty bottle in front of him.  The doctor hesitated, then went over and sat down at the table.  The young man glanced at him.  “When are you gonna leave me alone?” he said.

 

“Why don’t you come on home and have some breakfast?” said the doctor quietly.  “Your mother and I haven’t seen you in a while.”

 

“Not hungry,” said the boy, pouring himself another drink. “Just thirsty.  Leave me alone, I tell you.”

 

“All right, son,” said the doctor.  “Your mother and I will be waiting.”  He left the saloon and walked heavily down the stairs and across the street to his office.