Story Summary: Joe assists Dr. Paul Martin, a recent widower, on his rounds.
Rating and Reader Alerts: G
Words:  6,500

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The Brandsters have included this story by this author in our project: Preserving Their Legacy. To preserve the legacy of the author, we have decided to give their work a home in the Bonanza Brand Fanfiction Library.  The author will always be the owner of this work of fanfiction, and should they wish us to remove their story, we will.

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Drive On!

Ben Cartwright walked briskly into Campbell’s General Store.  He paused momentarily in the doorway while his eyes, accustomed to the bright sunlight, adjusted to the indoor setting.  The store was a clutter of counters and display tables, all covered with merchandise.  Clothing hung on racks.  Bolts of cloth and blankets were stacked on shelves. Sacks of flour and sugar were propped up against a wall.  Hardware and household goods were displayed.  Bottles, jars and barrels, filled to their brims, were everywhere. Ben feared moving before he could see clearly. He smiled and nodded his greeting to Mrs. Campbell.  His three sons were all present, chatting with the other patrons and shopping, but as each realised their father had come into the store, they left off what they were doing and walked toward him. 

“Boys,” said Ben, “I’ve just come from Paul’s.  He’s had a little accident and needs someone to drive his buggy for him so that he can tend to his patients.  I know that one of you would only be too happy to show Dr. Martin your gratitude for everything he’s done for you in the past, and will offer to be his driver.”

“What kind of accident did he have?” asked Adam, his voice full of concern for their old friend.

“Ah, let’s move over here so that we’re not overheard.” Ben showed his sons over to a quiet corner away from the rest of the patrons and dropped the volume of his voice considerably as he explained the situation.  “Seems that Mrs. Alice Bradley has set her cap for Paul, and Paul is less than anxious to re-marry right now.  He saw her coming for him over at the café yesterday and he tried to sneak out the back.  He tripped on the porch stairway, and fell and sprained his wrist.  Now he can’t hold a set of reins very comfortably.”

At first, the boys took the news without expression, but that changed as each imagined the dignified doctor trying to stealthily exit a building in an attempt to outrun sweet, kind-hearted Widow Bradley.  They tried, but they couldn’t contain themselves.  In a moment, all three of the Cartwright sons were laughing so hard they could barely breath.

“You’re joking!” gasped Adam.  “Did she catch up with him?”

“Never mind that now!  One of you will to have to help him out.  Which of you is it to be?”  Ben looked at his sons sternly and then checked over his shoulder to make sure they were not being overheard.

“Well Pa, me and Adam have plans for this afternoon, but I’m sure Joe here won’t mind a bit escortin’ Doc while he visits his patients.” Hoss folded his arms over his chest and smiled as he looked over at his younger.  “With one thing and another, Little Joe has needed a doctor more than the rest of us put together.  I think it’s only fittin’ that he should be the one to make sure Doc gets to where he needs to go.”

“Besides that, Joe is running away from a gal too.” Adam laughed.  “Betty-Ann Stiller has set HER cap for HIM and I happen to think it’s only right that the two fugitives from matrimony spend their day together.”

“Hey, I’d much rather spend time with Doc than with you two anyhow.  Don’t worry, Pa, I’ll look after him.”

“It’s settled then,” said Ben.  “You can meet Paul over at the livery.”

Joe walked over to the stable.  He entered just in time to see Paul Martin tying a wooden crate to the back of his buggy.  “Hey Dr. Martin.  Let me get that for you.” Joe took the box and the rope that Paul was struggling with. “I’m your driver for today.  It’s a great morning, isn’t it?  The sun is shining, birds are singing…” Joe smiled as he finished up with the crate.

“Get in the buggy.” Dr. Martin barked at him.  Joe was startled by Dr. Martin’s very curt words.  Paul Martin was a very kind and caring man.  To be discourteous was unheard of! 

“What kind of greeting is that, on this very fine morning, for the son of one of your oldest friends?” Joe looped his thumbs through the front of his gunbelt and rocked on his heels.

“Oh I beg your pardon, Joe,” began the doctor sarcastically.  “Yes indeed it is a lovely morning and I’d have been a good deal more effusive on the topic except for my dratted, confound, flaming, dad-blamed wrist is giving me more pain that I can bear with a smile.  Now get in the buggy!”

I hear ya did that while you were running away from the widder-ladies again.” Joe pointed to Paul’s bandaged wrist.

“I’ll thank you to lower your voice, Little Joe, and get in the buggy!”

“You know,” said Joe as they both climbed up onto the seat, “I’m not quite sure what all those women see in you.  It can’t possibly be your sparkling personality.”

“It’s the suit,” Paul looked down at his dark coat and paisley vest.  “Fine feathers do wonders for strange old birds.  Drive on!” 

Joe laughed.  “Well, where would you like to head to first, Doc?”

“We’ve got several stops to make this morning.”  Paul pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket and read the notations on it.  “I’d like to drive over to see Sam DeWitt first.  After that, we can head over to the post office and check the mail, and I need to get over to see Denise Carter.  Then we’ll go over to my office, have dinner and sort out our afternoon schedule.”  He placed the page back in his pocket.

Joe shook the reins and started the grey mare at a brisk trot.  “That’s a pretty busy day,” said Joe.  “I’m sorry to hear that Sam’s not feeling well.”

“There’s nothing really wrong with Sam except he’s all alone in that big house of his and he hasn’t got anyone but himself to think about.  There’s not much I can do for him, and he’s given up on my lack of prescriptive medicine for all of his aches and pains.  He’s decided to try hydrotherapy treatment out east.  All the same, I thought I’d like to drop in on him and pay my respects and, incidentally, see if he remembers to pay me for services rendered in the past.”

“What in tarnation is hydrotherapy?” asked Joe.

“Well, apparently the doctor at some fancy sanatorium is going to wrap him up in a couple of wet sheets, throw a blanket around him and tuck him into bed in an over-warm room until Sam sweats out all his bad humours.”

“You’re joshin’ me.”

“I never josh about quackery, Little Joe.”

“You don’t think it’ll do him any good?”

“I don’t think it’ll do him any harm, and it’ll be the closest thing to a bath he’s had in months.”

“Well,” Joe said as he shook his head, “I don’t have to ask why he’s alone.”

They drove only a short distance through the busy streets of Virginia City.  As soon as they reached their first destination, Joe jumped out of the buggy.  He was about to walk around to the other side to help Dr. Martin but stopped short as Paul held up his hand.  “Stay where you are, young man.  I still have my pride, if not the full use of my wrist and hand.”

“Whatever you say, Doc.” Joe watched Paul step down from the buggy, walk up the front sidewalk, and tap on the door of Sam DeWitt’s house.  Paul turned and winked; he faced the door again just in time to see DeWitt standing in the open doorway, beckoning him inside.  Joe waved as the two men disappeared into the house.  About half an hour later, Doctor Martin returned, looking quite pleased.

“It appears that it’s going to be a better day than I thought,” said Paul as he climbed back up onto the seat of the buggy.  “He paid his tab, and I swear I saw a moth fly out of his wallet.  Next stop is the post office.”

“Alright, Doc.” Joe smiled and snapped the reins.  They drove back through downtown Virginia City, occasionally waving or touching their hat brims to acknowledge their acquaintances.  They soon pulled up in front of the post office.  Joe leapt out of the buggy and bounded up the two steps to the rail in front of the building.” He flashed a quick smile at Paul and said, “I’ll wait out here for you, if that’s alright?”

“That’s fine.”  Paul patted Joe’s shoulder as he walked past the young man. 
Joe tucked his hands under his crossed arms, leaned against a post and looked out onto the street.  Virginia City was rarely quiet, and that day was no exception.  The streets were full of activity as shopkeepers attended to their businesses, carts and wagons laden with goods and merchandise were driven past, a stagecoach burdened with passengers and baggage stopped outside of the depot.  Pedestrians were everywhere.

Three young ladies standing in front of a dress shop across the street caught Joe’s attention.  They were talking and laughing with great animation.  Occasionally one of them would point to something in the display window of the shop.  Joe had no thought of going over and interrupting.  It was pleasant enough to stand back and watch.  There was something about the sway of their skirts when they moved, the way they placed their gloved hands to cover their mouths when they laughed, the flash of colour as they twirled their parasols or swung their handbags.  It would never have occurred to him to negatively contrast the girls’ relative beauty.  Joe was far too democratic in his admiration of women.  He simply enjoyed the view as a particularly pretty and lively scene.  In fact, he was enjoying the scene so much he didn’t hear Paul come out of the post office and speak to him.  “Joe!” laughed Paul.

“Sorry, Doc.  I didn’t hear you come out.” Joe’s cheeks flushed slightly and he  looked sheepish.

“Do you ever think of anything except girls?” Paul teased as they walked towards the buggy. 

“Sometimes,” Joe smiled.  “What’d you like to think about when you were 30 years younger.”

“I was never 30 years younger,” laughed Paul wearily.

“I don’t believe that.  You must have had SOME fun when you were my age.” Joe looked over at Paul.

“I suppose I did, but I was an embarrassingly solemn young man sometimes.  I wanted to be a doctor and I worked pretty hard to get what I wanted.  Along the way, I was lucky enough to find a good woman who was willing to put up with all of my peculiarities.” 

Joe’s look turned sympathetic. “You miss Mrs. Martin a lot, don’t you.”

“Yes I do, Little Joe.  I surely do.” Paul smiled sadly at the younger man.  “Where do you think you’ll be 30 years from now?” 

“On the Ponderosa; where else would I be?”

“Are you so very sure about that?”

“Of course I am.  There’s places I’d like to visit, like New Orleans because my mother came from there, but there’s no place else for me to live, Doc.”

Paul looked at Joe affectionately.  How easy it would have been to patronise the boy and tell him all about the strange and various ways life could surprise a man and give him cause to change his plans.  Wasn’t that how he found himself working in Nevada?  He had a medical degree, a relative rarity in the west for those who called themselves doctors.  He could have had a prosperous and prominent career in the east without all of the violence and perpetual danger of the frontier.  But life had presented him with different challenges and different choices.  It wasn’t what he had originally planned, but he had no regrets.

He and Joe got back into the buggy and Paul unwrapped the package he had brought with him from the post office.  “Wonderful!” Paul shouted as the wrapping fell away.

“Good news, Doc?”

“Yes, I’ve been waiting for this book to come for some time.  I’m glad it’s finally here.”  Paul passed the volume over to Joe.

“ ‘The Nature and Treatment of Disorders Particular to the Human Digestive System, With Detailed Diagrams from Dissections,’ ” Joe read from the cover and grimaced.  “Well, there’s no accounting for what some fellers like to read.” 

Paul chuckled at the expression on his young companion’s face.  “I suppose you’re right.  It’s not a book most people would get excited over.”  He took the book back from Joe and tucked it under the dash of the buggy.  “Our next stop is the Carter place at the end of this road.  Mrs. Carter is expecting her fourth baby and I’d like to check on her.”  Paul waved his good hand forward. “Drive on, Joseph, drive on.”

Joe snapped the reins and they were off.  Paul looked down at his watch as they drove into the Carter’s yard.  It had taken them about 20 minutes to drive the length of the road, and it was now 10:30 in the morning.  “We’ll just check on Denise and then be on our way, Joe.  We can get at least three more calls in today if we don’t tarry long.” 

“The place looks deserted.  The Carters must be away for the day.”

“I doubt Mrs. Carter would be going very far so close to her time.” Paul looked out from the buggy to see if he could spot any sign of the family.

“You stay here, Doc,” said Little Joe as he jumped down from his seat. “I’ll just check things out a bit and see if there’s anyone around.”  Joe walked toward the house.  It was old and weathered, but the yard was neat and tidy.  He tapped on the door and listened for a moment.  There was no reply.  Joe knocked harder, and this time the door creaked open under the weight of his hand. He cautiously pushed it open wide.  What he saw made him shout back to Paul:  “Doc, you better get over here.”

Paul grabbed his medical bag.  He could feel the ache in his wrist as he leaned on it to jump out of the buggy, but he knew that Joe would not shout for him like that for no reason.  When Paul got to the door, he saw Joe crouched beside a kneeling woman.

“Good heavens, Denise.  What in the world are you doing on the floor?” Paul stepped through the doorway, moved toward Denise Carter and went down on his haunches on the other side of her.

“I’m…having…a…baby,” The woman gasped.

“I can see that, but don’t you think it would have been a better idea to make sure there was someone with you?” Paul smiled as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.  “I know, my dear.  Now is no time to be teasing you.  How close are you to delivering that child?”

“Now!” She gasped again and grabbed Paul’s arm.  “It’s…happening…now.”

“Joe, help me get Mrs. Carter up off of the floor and into her room.”  Joe and Paul each took one of her arms and led her into the small bedroom.  Denise Carter groaned as she lay down on the bed.  She rolled onto her side and rocked back and forth as a contraction gripped her.

Joe swallowed hard at the sight.  “I’ll go wait outside,” he said.

“That’s fine, but don’t wander too far away.  I may need you to help me.” Paul poured some water into a basin, and took a cloth from the washstand.  He bathed the woman’s forehead, and smiled down at her.  “Everything is going to be just fine, Denise.  You and I are both old hands at delivering babies.”

Joe wondered at the calm in Paul’s voice.  He felt anything but calm.  He walked around the yard and waited as patiently as he could.  He was torn between wanting to be as much help as he could be, and terror that he might actually be called on to assist.  After an hour and a half of pacing and waiting, he heard his name being called. 

“Joe, come here,” called Paul. 

“Please,” Joe silently prayed, “Please don’t ask me to help deliver that baby!”  Joe walked into the house, with his eyes closed and feebly called back “I’m here if you need me, Doc.”

“I don’t need you to do anything except open your eyes before you trip and fall.  I could do without having you as my patient right now.”  Joe cautiously opened his eyes and looked at a tiny bundle in Paul’s arms.

“Hey! It’s a baby!” Joe laughed with relief.

Paul looked at Joe derisively.  “I hope you weren’t expecting something else, because if you were, we’re going to have to have a little talk when we get back on the road.  Of course it’s a baby!  A beautiful, healthy, baby boy.”

At that moment the door swung open and a heavy-set man walked into the house.  Following closely behind him were three young children.  They clung to the man’s hands and to his legs.  He looked over at the bundle in Paul’s arms.  “It’s about time,” he said.  “Denise is alright, ain’t she, Dr. Martin?”

“She’s right as rain, Dylan, and she’s given you another son.” Paul walked closer to Dylan Carter so that the father could see his child.

Dylan Carter put his hands on his hips.  “Like I need another mouth to feed.” 

Joe looked over at Dylan in surprise.  Dylan’s face was turned away from him and Joe couldn’t see the slight smile that played across the other man’s lips.  Joe had only heard what sounded like a sarcastic tone of voice.  “Hey, wait a minute…” he began angrily.

“Joe!” said Paul sternly.  “You go and wait out in the buggy for me.  I’ll be right with you.”  Joe hesitated and looked over at Paul.  “You heard me,” said Paul.  I’ll be out in a short while.”  He smiled and nodded his head toward the door.  Joe shot Dylan Carter one last look and then walked out to the buggy.  He stood and waited for Paul, fuming at what he thought was a lack of gratitude for the safety of mother and child, and for the services of a good doctor.  About fifteen minutes later, Paul and Dylan Carter walked out of the house toward a small shed on the other side of the yard.  Paul waved as he walked past Joe.  A mere five minutes after that, Paul returned from the shed holding two chickens—one tucked under his arm and one in his good hand.

“Do me a favour, Little Joe,” said Paul.  “Pop these chickens into that crate we’ve got tied to the back of the buggy.”

“Chickens?!”

“Oh yes.  This is why I bring that crate with me,” said Paul.  “I know it didn’t seem like it to you, but Dylan Carter is a very happy man right now.  He’s not the most forthcoming chap with his affections, but he loves his wife and children, and he’s proud as a peacock about having another son.  The chickens are payment for my services, and I’m sure they’ll taste mighty good once Mrs. Smythe gets her hands on them!”

“Doc, you must be a mind reader.  I wouldn’t have figured on that man’s attitude as anything more than being vexed at the thought of caring for someone other than himself.” Joe shook his head, took the chickens from Paul and put the squawking birds in the box as Paul got back in the buggy.

“I’m not a mind reader, Joe.  But I’ve known this family long enough to understand that things on the inside aren’t always what they appear to be on the outside.  Matter of fact, I suspect that the same is true with a lot of folks.”  Paul grinned as he settled himself back on the seat of the buggy.  “Dylan certainly doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve.”

“You can say that again.”  Joe smiled as he finished with the crate, walked to the front of the buggy and climbed up onto the seat beside Paul.  “Hey Doc, that sure was a pretty baby.  Everything about him was so tiny:  tiny little fingers, and a tiny little face…”

“Joseph, stop yacking, get up here and drive on!” Paul laughed.

Joe urged the grey mare on, and they were on their way toward the centre of town.  Joe and Paul were quiet for most of the drive back.  The Carter house was on the outskirts of town.  Much of the land around Virginia City and Gold Hill bore the marks of mining and lumbering, but this section of road had very little of interest on it to anyone except those who lived there.  As a result, the few trees lining the sides of the road had escaped the logger’s axe.  Sunlight shone through the branches and reflected off of the shiny black buggy.  Birds flitted about and a sweet smelling cool breeze blew down from the mountains.  It wasn’t too long, however, before the bustle of the town became more apparent, and in no time at all they had reached the doctor’s combined office and residence.

“Come on in, Little Joe.”  Paul walked to the front door, book in hand, placed his key in the lock and opened the door.  Joe followed Paul into the house.  The front rooms had been converted into Paul’s office and examining room.  There were books and papers stacked up on the desk.  Paul added his latest acquisition to one of the stacks.

Mrs. Smythe bustled in from the kitchen and, without prefacing her chatter with even a word of greeting, started at once to talk.  “Dr. Martin, Mr. Greenfield has sent word that his daughter has had one of her fainting fits and wants you to get there as soon as ever you can to put her to rights again.  If you ask me, all that girl needs is to loosen her corset and she’d be fine.  Mr. James’ grandson was by also.  I guess the old man isn’t doing too well and they’d like you to stop in if you have a minute.  Isn’t that just the way with folks:  the one that don’t have nothin’ wrong with her except her vanity demands you come immediately and the one that’s on death’s door says come when you got a minute.  I can hear the racket those chickens are making all the way in here.  You can put them near the back porch, Joe Cartwright.  One of ‘em will do nicely for supper tonight.  In the meantime, I’ll get dinner for you.  I’ve no doubt you’re both famished.”  She looked them both up and down and then bustled back out of the room before either Joe or Paul could say anything.

“She always like that?” asked Joe as he walked toward the front door of the house to fetch the chickens.

“Yes.  And by the way, not only do I rely heavily on her for her excellent housekeeping and her skills in the kitchen, but I’m also scared to death of her, so I make it a point to say as little as possible.  That way I can’t get into any trouble.  I’d appreciate it if you’d do the same.”

“Me? Get into trouble?”

Paul laughed and shook Joe gently by the shoulder.  As he did so, he winced slightly.  “Delivering that baby was a strain on this wrist,” Paul responded to Joe’s look of concern. “It’s fine though, and we have a couple of calls to make this afternoon.  We’ll start with the Greenfields, since that’s not likely to take too much time, and then we’ll head over to the James place.  We might be there for a while, providing Jake is still with us.  It grieves me to think that he’s dying, but there’s nothing I can do to stop old age from taking its course.  I’ve known Jacob James almost as long as I’ve known your Pa, Joe.”

“I can’t imagine going over there without Mr. James being around.  Pa used to take us over to visit with the James family when they lived out on their claim.  When they struck it rich and moved into Virginia City, we’d come in and see them when we could.  Mr. James would always give Hoss and me peppermints when we were kids.  The smell of peppermint always makes me think of him.”

Joe completed his errand to the back porch, and just as he was returning to the front rooms, Mrs. Smythe called them to the table.  “Ah, Mrs. Smythe, I see you have managed to find us some butter for our bread.  You really are an excellent manager.” Paul winked at Joe as they both pulled their chairs out and sat down to their meal.

“Why thank-you, Doctor.” Mrs. Smythe flushed with pleasure at the compliment.  “I do the best I can.”  She turned on her heel and exited the room again.  Joe and Paul enjoyed their dinner immensely, for Mrs. Smythe truly was an excellent cook.  They chatted amiably about one thing and another:  the war back east, the silver mines, local politics, Nevada’s bid to become a state… 

They had each just finished a sticky piece of molasses pie and were sitting back to drink their tea when there was a sharp rap on the front door.  Paul and Joe both straightened up and listened attentively while Mrs. Smythe went to answer it.  They heard her greet the caller, and then emit a loud exclamation:  “But the Doctor is eating his dinner.  You can’t just push your way in here!” 

A short balding man burst through the doorway of the dining room.  He was sweating and breathing heavily.  “Dr. Martin! Ya gotta come quick.  Eddie Reitz has gone and got himself shot up over at the Bucket of Blood!”

Eddie Reitz was a lawyer who had been drawn to Virginia City by the prospect of rich clients and the litigious climate that often prevails in areas where claims and counter-claims can mean the difference between being a millionaire or being completely broke.  He had built up a very busy law practice preying on misfortune and the less commendable elements of human nature.  In twenty-first century terms, he would be thought of as an ‘ambulance chaser’. 

Joe and Paul jumped from their chairs and headed for the door.  “What happened?” Paul asked the man as he grabbed his medical bag.

“I don’t know for sure, Doc.  I got there after the shootin’ and the barkeep hollered at me to fetch you over before I could get a good look or catch a word about what was goin’ on.  All I could see was Eddie on the floor and a whole lot of blood.” 

When Joe and Paul arrived at the Bucket of Blood Saloon, there was a sizeable crowd gathered around the fallen figure of a man in a suit.  Joe gently pushed the patrons aside so that Paul could get through to Eddie.  Paul stooped down beside the man and began to examine him.  “Joe, help me turn him onto his side.”  As Joe and Paul turned Eddie, Paul grimaced from the pain in his wrist.

“You okay, Paul?” Joe looked over at him.

“I’m going to have to be,” said the doctor as he pulled back Eddie’s jacket.  He took a penknife from his pocket and slit away the shirt from his patient’s shoulder.  “Hit twice.  One bullet went through and the other just grazed him.”  Paul looked up at the bartender.  “I’m going to need some bandages to staunch this.  Got a clean sheet or shirt to tear up?”

“I’ll see what I can dig up for you, Doc,” the bartender said as he headed up a set of stairs.  A moment or two later, the batwing doors swung open and Roy Coffee strode into the bar.  “What in blazes is going on in here?” he demanded.  There was quite a commotion as everyone began to speak at once.  “Alright!  Alright!” Roy shouted holding up his hands.  “I need to hear from ya one at a time.” 

The bartender had just returned and handed a bed sheet over to Joe.  “I can tell ya what happened.  Eddie won that big land-claim case against Bill Kearn, and he come in here with his clients to celebrate.  Well you know what the mine crowd can be like.  They got Eddie all liquored up just for the fun of it, and Eddie got to flappin’ his gums and braggin’ good ‘n loud ‘bout how he was the best lawyer in the territory.  He was goin’ on and on about it when Kearn’s men come in, including young Jimmy Kearn.  Eddie was so darn drunk he didn’t know what he was doin’ and ended up bracing Jimmy.  Jimmy took exception.”

“Where’s Jimmy now?” asked Roy.

“I reckon he’s headed home to his daddy.  I’m not over-fond of Eddie or Jimmy so I guess you could say I don’t have a side in this.  Eddie was askin’ for trouble and Jimmy delivered.  That’s it, Sherriff—plain and simple,” the bartender said.  Several men who had been watching nodded their agreement on the bartender’s retelling of the events.

“He gonna live, Paul?” Roy peered over Joe’s shoulder and watched the doctor bandage Eddie’s shoulder with strips of sheeting that Joe had torn for him.  Eddie was groaning and babbling incomprehensibly, all the while trying to brush Paul’s hands away.

“Bleeding has already slowed down considerably and everything looks nice and clean.  Barring any putrefaction of the wounds he’ll be fine.” Paul looked down at his patient and then rolled his eyes at Roy.  “You know, Roy, I’m always grateful when a patient’s life is spared, but we could both do with a few less customers like Eddie Reitz and Jimmy Kearn.  Any way we can run them out of town?”

Roy laughed.  “Well, unless a judge and jury get a hold of this case, there’s no legal way that I can think of.  I guess I better get over to the Kearn place and get Jimmy’s side of this story.  I’ll come back and talk to Eddie when he’s sobered up a bit more.”

Joe knew that Roy and Paul would never have joked about Eddie Reitz if his condition wasn’t good.  All of the tension that had built up inside him while he had been helping Paul eased. “Now what do we do with him?” asked Joe as Paul finished up with Eddie’s shoulder.

“Good question.”  Paul looked up at the bartender, “Bill, you got someplace to stash Eddie for tonight?  I don’t want him moved around too much if it can be helped.”

“Sure, Doc.  There’s a room in the back we keep just special for bullet-ridden, drunken, loud-mouth lawyer-types.  He can stay there.  Joe, give me a hand carrying him will ya?”  The barkeeper looked at Eddie Reitz with distaste.

“Sure.” Joe and the bartender carefully picked Eddie up off of the floor and carried him to the back room.  By the time Joe returned to the bar, Paul had washed up and was ready to go. 

“I’ll stop back in tomorrow to check on him.  In the meantime, I think we’ll postpone visiting Miss Greenfield.  I’d really like to get over to the James place now.  I’m beginning to fret about my old friend.”

“No problem, Doc.  And if we don’t get all of your errands done today and you need me to help you out tomorrow, I’m sure Pa won’t mind if I stick around.”  They returned to the buggy, and Joe drove off toward the James house.  Paul was truly afraid that his old friend might already have passed on.  They talked about it a little bit in the buggy as they drove along.  “You see, Joe, there’s nothing I can do for him.  He’s an old man and that’s that.  All the same, I’m worried that he might need me to be with him, and I’d hate like heck to miss seeing him one last time.”

The James house was a mansion located in what was becoming a very prosperous neighbourhood.  Joe whoa-ed the horse and he and Paul both got out of the buggy and walked up to the door.  Paul pulled back the knocker and banged it three times.  After a short pause, the door was opened by a young servant.  “Good day, Dr. Martin, sir.  The family is with old Mr. James.  Young Mr. James said you’re to come right in.  Paul and Joe both handed their hats to the girl and walked into the house.  “If you’ll follow me, please,” she said.

Joe glanced around as they were led through the hallway.  He had been in this house plenty of times before.  He had visited the James family with his father and brothers. He had danced under the crystal chandelier and flirted with pretty girls at parties the James family had thrown.  Joe Cartwright’s own family was rich, but the opulence of the mansion was something he was not altogether comfortable with.  He had enjoyed himself in that house many times, but it lacked the cosiness of the Ponderosa ranch house. 

They were led into a large bedroom.  The massive bed was surrounded by the James family.  In the bed lay a tiny, fragile old man.  “Jacob James,” said Paul sitting down in the chair by the bed and picking up the old man’s hand. The fingers were thin and the skin had the texture of paper.  “This is quite a gathering you’ve got in here.”

“Paul.  It’s good to see you,” whispered Jacob James.  “I’m glad you could come, though I’m sure I’m beyond your professional concern now.  It is my last visit with everyone, I’m certain of that.” 

“I think that’s true, old friend.” Paul stroked Jacob’s hand. “I think your time is almost over.  Are you in any pain?”

“Well, if there’s a potion in that bag of yours that would ease off the ache I got in my  back, I’d appreciate it.  I’d just as soon enjoy the time I’ve got left as much as I can.”

“That’s not a problem, Jake.” Paul got up from the chair and placed his bag on top of a dresser.  He opened the bag and took a small bottle from it.  He measured some of the bottle’s contents into a glass and added water.  “It’ll be a little while before you feel any better from this.  Joe, could you please raise Mr. James up for me?”  Together, they helped the old man drink and then, with the help of Jacob’s daughter-in-law, Paul gently tucked the blankets back up around him.

The corner’s of the old man’s mouth turned upwards slightly.  “Little Joe, I didn’t see you come into the room.  I’m glad you’re here too.  You tell your Pa that I always thought kindly of him, even if he is a cantankerous old cow chaser,” Jacob whispered.

“I’ll tell him, Mr. James,” said Joe quietly. 

“I’d like you to do something else for me, Joe.”

“Sure, Mr. James, whatever you want.”

“Well, you know my granddaughters.  They’re lovely girls, aren’t they?”

“Yes they are, Mr. James.”

“Black is such a sombre colour.  I don’t think such pretty, young girls should wear black, and I have made them promise me that if they must wear mourning, that they’ll choose some other colour that’s appropriate—white or grey or silver, but no black.  You’ll see that they keep their promise to their old granddaddy, won’t you, Joe?”

“I’ll see to it, Mr. James.” Joe smiled down at the old man and then glanced over at the three pretty girls standing by the large windows on the other side of the room.  Paul and Joe kept vigil with the James family for quite some time.  There were tears from the women; the men took turns standing by the head of the bed or holding the old man’s hand.  Occasionally, he would open his eyes and smile or squeeze gently whichever loved-one’s fingers were cradling his.  Finally, at seven-thirty in the evening of May 23, 1862 Dr. Paul Martin, M.D. pronounced the life of Jacob James, Esquire to be over.  There was a slight quaver in his voice as he said the words.

Paul and Joe stayed a little longer to comfort the family.  Paul reminisced about his old friend, while Joe stood and talked with the younger members of the James family.  When they finally walked back out towards the buggy, it was dark and both Joe and Paul were tired.  They climbed up onto the seat of the buggy a little more slowly than either had done throughout the day.  “Well, Little Joe, it’s been a pretty long day.  I hope you plan on staying in Virginia City tonight.  You can help me eat that supper that Mrs. Smythe mentioned, and then bunk at my place.” Paul looked over at Joe. 

“Sounds great,” Joe said absently.  He cast a thoughtful glance toward the doctor.

“Got something on your mind, Little Joe?” asked Paul.

“You must see a lot of death, huh Doc?”

“Joe, I see a lot of everything.  I see folks when they’re at their very best, and when they’re at their very worst.  I’ve seen ‘em get born, and I’ve held their hands when they’ve died.  Handing a brand-new, healthy baby to a mother who shows all signs of surviving her child’s birth is a joy and a blessing that can keep a doctor going for many a day.  And making sure an old man’s journey out of this world is as easy on him and his family as can be, well, I guess that’s kind of a blessing too.  Everything in between is just helping people out as best I can.”

“You’re a pretty special man, Dr. Paul Martin.”  Joe looked over at the gentleman beside him with admiration.

“Thank-you, boy, I appreciate that.  Drive on, then.” Paul said gently.

“Yes sir.” said Joe.

THE END