Wild Fire (Book II)

Undone

     The train arrived at Saint Denis, the golden sun burning at its very brightest over the bustling city. As Dutch entered the station ignoring the odd looks from passersby, he headed straight over to the nearest coach. Four beautiful brown and white work mares neighed and snorted at the forefront of the rolling wooden box. "The clinic my good man." Dutch instructed ignoring the raised eyebrow at such a demanding man dressed in his night clothes. The others boarded as well, leaving Dutch to sit near the window holding Emma's face towards the fresh air. When the driver continued to look at them questioningly, he stuck his head out the hole and barked up at him. "With haste if you please. Sir." Dutch's eyes looked at him dangerously. After a blink and apology, the man struck the reins and they took off towards the clinic.

     Dutch's mouth was a firm line of impatience. The coach wouldn't have been fast enough if it had sprouted wings and flown over the cobblestone streets. In his arms Emma stirred. Her troubled face pulling together with the pain slowly returning to her waking consciousness. As they rounded the corner the coach barely had time to stop before Dutch was kicking open the door and falling to his feet at a run. John threw what little money he had at the driver and helped Miss Grimshaw down to shuffle quickly behind him.

     The outlaw's intimidating form burst into the office startling the Doctor standing over a young man intently listening to his chest with a black tubed stethoscope. Dutch looked down at the man with a convincing glare. "I am afraid your visit is over gentlemen." The doctor just looked at him strangely, but the younger man caught the insistence in Dutch's eyes. He nodded a goodbye to the doctor and got up and quickly walked away.

     The physician turned to Dutch pulling the scope back down around his neck. "What is the meaning of this intrusion sir?" He was a cold looking man. Wide square face with graying hair around his ears. He held the same distinguished flare that Dutch himself did. The title of his education settled on his straightened shoulders like a cape as he squared himself to face him. But his stance didn't shake Dutch at all.

    Miss Grimshaw took a step forward reaching in her bag and amazingly pulled Dutch's black fedora from its depths. She placed it on his head like a crown of power fueling his overbearing report. He walked past the man and laid the girl on the table behind the him, placing her as gently as one would a sleeping lamb.

     He rounded on the Doctor then, lighting a cigar and blowing the smoke out over the man's face. "I need you to fix this young lady Doctor..." He glanced down at his name tag. "Faraday. And I need you to not waste my time in doing so. She is unwell." The doctor's face pinked with irritation. "I can see that she needs attention, Sir. But running off my business and offering no promise to pay does not promote me to do so. In fact, my only real feeling regarding your intrusion is quite a bit of violent disrespect on my part."

     Dutch lowered his head a moment, allowing a sinister sneer to pull at the corner of his lips. His voice became a threatening growled whisper. "Violence without passion doesn't mean anything. It's just anger that's all over the place. You sir are angry. Do not push me to show you true violence. John..." John raised his gun and clicked back the hammer slowly holding it at the doctor's head.

     There was a visible waver in the man's stance, and both John and Dutch noted that he took a step back. The doctor sighed audibly. "And what exactly are the young girls' symptoms?" His question was cold, bereft of compassion. It was Susan that stepped forward now, brushing past Dutch's boiling figure, and addressed the grimacing male. "She is bleeding from below. Something...we don't know what happened to her. But she needs your help. And she needs it quickly." Miss Grimshaw's usual stone face softened. Dutch could see the concern in her eyes, and it worried him. He Knew nothing of the inner workings of a woman aside from the pleasure he could draw from them. The fear of something within the girl being truly broken pulled the rage within him to a hot blinding simmer. He would see the one who harmed her dead. Dead and rotting under his pointed boot.