Hel Morgan

Six

"That's enough, Payton!" The sheriff's gun was out and steady. "I'm tired of tellin' you to quit causin' trouble in my town! What's it to be, jail or leave!"

"That snot-nosed whelp is takin' my little-!"

"Arlynn is married to Dobbie Alder, Payton, I stood as witness. You keep your nose outta their affairs from now on, or I swear I'll lock you up so long it won't be worth comin' out! We clear?"

"That's my girl!"

"A married woman now, do I need to repeat myself?"

Grumbling, unhappy, Payton went, leaving the bystanders looking down at the limp body on the floor.

"What do we do with him?" One asked.

"Help me get him to Doc Gibbons office. He'll be feelin' it when he comes 'round."

Hel woke grudgingly, his ears buzzing. He recalled getting clobbered, feeling like a stampede of longhorns had made their getaway across his head. Groaning, he started to sit up.

"Easy, young feller, you got quite an egg on yer jaw."

"Do I?" It slurred and Hel felt his entire face throbbing from the two simple sounds. Blinking, he looked around, frowning. "Where am I?"

"My office. They brung ya here after Payton got done moppin' the floor with ya."

"That ain't how I recall it goin'..." pausing, Hel considered that a moment. "Maybe I'm not clear on the details."

"Well, I suppose ya were holdin' yer own for a while. Then ya looked away, and son, no one takes their eyes off Payton Hedge once he's on the prod."

"I won't forget," wincing as he felt along his jaw, Morgan glanced at the sawbones. "I can go?"

"Can ya stand?"

"You mean I'm not?"

"Son, ya jest sit there. I'll fetch 'round a strong cup of coffee."

Looking around the cluttered space, Hel realized it was a doctor's office. Huge, thick books stacked on several surfaces, anatomy charts, skeletal charts, covered trays of what he only guessed were doctoring implements, and strange vials containing liquids of various shades. Just how bad had he been hit? Considering that, he tried standing but when the room spun he sat back down, squeezing his eyes shut. It took all his willpower not to throw up.

"Told ya," the voice was back, shuffling footsteps approaching. "If ya hurl yer supper, you'll be the one cleanin' it up. My knees ain't good."

"Breakfast," Hel muttered, breathing deep through his mouth. "It was breakfast."

"So, yer memories comin' back, eh? Good. Drink this then clear out if you can. I got an appointment comin' in."

"Thanks." He felt it was a good sign he didn't spill any coffee, which was so bitter it made his eyes hurt. "Lord, man, what is this?"

"It'll kill or cure, sonny. Try yer feet."

"You want me to pour this on my feet?"

"Don't be stupid-!"

"Easy, old timer," Hel managed a grin. "I'm fooling with you." Pushing upright, he only wobbled a little. "See?"

"Sure, now try walkin'."

Hel couldn't recall a doorway being quite so far before, but by the time he got there his ears were ringing. The crogedy old sawbones refilled his coffee cup and brought over a chair.

"You'll be good as new, jest take a minute. This yer first tangle, son?"

"Not by a long shot. First time I've been on the ground in a while though," Hel considered that as he drank the hot tar, grimacing slightly. "Won't make that mistake again. Got careless."