9

Doc Martin cried when the little girl died. All his years of practicing medicine, all the lives he’d lost, despite those he’d saved…somehow all of it seemed to come down to this moment, and to this little girl. He sat holding her hand, wondering where her mother was or if she was even alive, and then he bowed down his head, and cried.

He allowed himself several solemn moments alone with her. She deserved as much. Of course, she deserved more, but that was all he could give her right then.

When he finally drew in a long, steadying breath and let his attention stray beyond this small space, he realized how quiet it had become outside. The celebration or feast or whatever it was that had caused such a ruckus had ended. It was fitting, he decided. It was right that news of her death would be carried softly. Then, as he pushed himself awkwardly to his feet and realized how weary he was, he wondered if anyone was awake to hear him at all.

Stepping outside refreshed him some. The night air felt good on his skin, and slowly started to chase away the stench of death that had settled in his lungs. Somewhat comforted, he moved away from the wickiup and took a brief look at the stars before searching for anyone who might be awake.

“Paul?” Ben Cartwright’s hushed voice pulled him away from Cassiopeia.

“Ben? I should think you’d be sound asleep by now.”

“And you as well.”

But his old friend’s smile was as forced as the one Paul gave in return. There was no need for words then. A simple glance behind him, a small shake of his head, and his news had reached at least one person.

“I’m sorry,” Ben offered, sincerely. “For what it’s worth, the tribesmen are going after those outlaws come dawn. God help them.”

Paul found himself shaking his head. “God certainly wasn’t with those men when they came here. I see no reason why He would be with them when this tribe wreaks its vengeance.”

“Yes, well….” Ben took a deep breath and glanced away. “I was just going to check on Joe.”

“I’ll come with you,” Paul said, despite a sense of exhaustion so complete he felt it in his bones.

“No. You’ve done enough for one day. You should get some rest.”

“Frankly, it’d be good for me to see Little Joe. At least that’s one patient I don’t have to worry about losing tonight.”

But Ben’s smile was no more genuine now than it had been a moment before.

“What’s wrong, Ben?”

“Nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s just…I’ve spent the better part of the night trying to get in there. For some reason or another, no one would let me.”

“You don’t think they would harm him, do you?”

“No,” Ben said quickly. Then with another deep breath he said it again. “No. I don’t see any reason why they would. But I’ll certainly feel a whole lot better when I can prove that to myself.”

Paul would feel a whole lot better, too, he decided. He felt so worn he honestly wasn’t sure he could do anything more than change a bandage.

XxXxX

Joe was asleep. In fact, he was sleeping so soundly they couldn’t wake him.

“He walked the dream road,” a deep, raspy voice called from the other side of the wickiup. “He will sleep until he wakes.”

Paul and Ben both turned. Surprised to find the medicine man awake, Paul hurried to his side and then was even more surprised to see the man’s color looked almost normal.

“Of course he will sleep until he wakes!” Ben bellowed behind him. “But confound it, why won’t he wake?”

“He walked the dream road,” the medicine man said before turning a puzzled gaze to Paul, as though he couldn’t understand what Ben couldn’t understand about his statement.

Ignoring Ben’s terse reply, Paul took the stethoscope from around his neck and put it to the man’s chest.

“What is that?” the man asked him.

“I’m listening to your heart.”

“You do not need to listen. Look.”

“Joseph!” The sound of Ben’s voice calling out behind Paul somehow receded into the distance.

“Pardon me?” Wondering at the odd feeling in his head, Paul looked into brown eyes dulled by cataracts, the whites yellowed and lined with raw, red veins.

“You,” the man said. “Your heart….” He raised a shaking hand to Paul’s chest. “It weeps.”

“Little Joe!” Ben shouted in a far away whisper.

“Yes,” Paul was bothered by an odd sense of…heaviness, as though the air had thickened around him. “Well, it’s been a long day. I’m tired. But for you, I’m happily surprised to say your heart appears quite sound.”

“No.”

“No?” Paul repeated, confused.

“Joseph!” Ben’s voice haunted.

“Your heart is not happily surprised.”

Those eyes held him…compelled him somehow, until Paul sighed. “I’m sorry to say I lost another patient only a few moments ago.”

“Patient?”

“Another member of your tribe. A young girl.”

The man studied him. “You weep for this girl?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Paul was shocked by the question. “She was just a child, for heaven’s sake. A little girl!”

“A little girl.” The man nodded. “Not Indian. Not Shoshoni. Just…a little girl.”

“Yes.”

He nodded again. “Your heart speaks as did his.”

“His?”

“Jo-seph,” the man said, his dull eyes moving toward Ben and Little Joe.

“How?” Paul asked. “How did his heart speak?”

“A man’s tongue can say many things, but his heart speaks true. The dream road showed Soquitch this Jo-seph’s heart. He is not like those others, the white men who took our women.”

“Of course, he isn’t! Why would he be?”

“Why would he not be? He is a white man, as they were white men.”

“Not all white men are murderers!”

The man cocked his head. “Some white men believe all Indians are savages. Some Indians believe the same of white men.”

Paul held silent, and then closed his eyes, nodding as he took a deep breath of the heady air. “I understand.”

“So says your tongue. Your heart is not as certain.”

“Joseph!” Ben cried out louder than he had a moment ago.

“The smoke,” Paul realized then. “Ben! There’s something in the smoke. Take him outside. He needs fresh air. We all do.” He looked to the medicine man again. “It is, isn’t it? It’s the smoke, something you’re burning in here.”

“The dream road is not easily reached. I did not know a white man could find it. But with Soquich and the tso’ape, the road found Jo-seph.”

“You drugged him?” Ben’s voice was as loud as thunder now.

“Soquich guided him.”

“Where is he now? This Soquich?” Ben demanded to know.

“He speaks Jo-seph’s truth with our chief.”

“Why?” Paul asked softly while Ben carried Joe outside.

“Soquich could not see any of your truths before.”

“He didn’t know if he could trust us,” Paul said. The medicine man did not turn away from his searching gaze. “But apparently you approved of the truth Joe showed Soquich.”

He shook his head, just once to the side. “It was not for me to approve. Guyungwi’yaa approved.”

“Guyungwi’yaa? The boy? The one who brought us here?”

“No. Guyungwi’yaa, what white man calls Turkey.”

“A turkey?” Paul asked, incredulous. “A turkey approved Joe’s truth?”

“Not a turkey. Turkey.”

“And if this Turkey didn’t approve?”

The man stared at Paul.

“I presume I don’t want to know the answer to that, do I?”

The man said nothing.

“Yes, well.” Paul took a deep breath, and then regretted it instantly, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him. “You are making a remarkable recovery. I, on the other hand, am in desperate need of some fresh air.”

After Paul stumbled outside, he gulped in a deep breath of the cool, clean air, and was grateful to feel it already beginning to revive him.

“What’s going on?” Paul heard Adam Cartwright call toward them, suspicion in the younger man’s voice.

“They drugged him,” Ben answered angrily.

“What?” Hoss asked. “Why?”

“I don’t know why!” Ben shouted. “But someone is going to—”

“Ben!” Paul held up a hand to urge his old friend to stop and listen for a moment. “Hold on, Ben. Just….” He took a few more deep breaths. “I don’t believe there was any harm intended.”

“How on earth—”

“Ben, please! Just listen. I believe Joe will be fine. Fresh air, plenty of water when he wakes up, and then yes, I believe he will be fine. They did what they did to see if they could trust us.”

“What? Of course they could trust us! After all we’ve done, after all we’ve—”

“No, Ben. They didn’t know. How could they? Why should we expect them to? Those men only knew what the boys told them. As far as we’re concerned…we’re strangers, Ben. And worse than that, we’re white men. Why would they trust us?”

As Paul’s head began to clear, he caught sight of the chief looking his way. Nodding briefly, he was encouraged to see the chief nodding back. Then he looked to Ben and his two very much awake oldest sons. How was Paul going to get any of them to understand they owed their lives to Little Joe and…a turkey?

XxXxX

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