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oom: barlow estate (2)
He sleeps well enough, curled on his side (after he manages to fall asleep, of course, nerves in his belly twisting at him for a while after the drink and conversation) and wakes with the first sounds of someone moving around the bunkhouse.
It's Jim.
Doc gives the older hand a few minutes of head start before he hauls himself out of bed and begins getting ready for the day. He notices that Jim, and the rest of the boys, all wear their guns, so once he's dressed himself, he settles his at his hip.
It's not dawn, yet, not by a longshot, when he makes his way over to the stables and barn in order to check on his horse - and see if Jim wants a hand in getting things taken care of. Might as well offer, after all.
"Hey, Jim...don't forget t'mind your hat," he mentions, quietly, as he enters the barn. His own is hanging around his neck by the cord, where he'll keep it out of reach of the horse as best he can. "You need a hand with anything?"
It's Jim.
Doc gives the older hand a few minutes of head start before he hauls himself out of bed and begins getting ready for the day. He notices that Jim, and the rest of the boys, all wear their guns, so once he's dressed himself, he settles his at his hip.
It's not dawn, yet, not by a longshot, when he makes his way over to the stables and barn in order to check on his horse - and see if Jim wants a hand in getting things taken care of. Might as well offer, after all.
"Hey, Jim...don't forget t'mind your hat," he mentions, quietly, as he enters the barn. His own is hanging around his neck by the cord, where he'll keep it out of reach of the horse as best he can. "You need a hand with anything?"
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"You can't go over there without takin' someone with you. It'd be like walkin' into a shooting gallery."
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Soon enough, Jim sees him.
"Boss -- no."
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As best he can, anyway. Barlow's taller, so he has to take a few quick double-steps now and then to keep up right at his hip, trailing him like one of those hounds.
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"Hell no."
Beat.
"Sir."
Samuel stops up short, eyes going from Jim, to Jay, to Jim again. "I'm going to teach that bloody bastard a lesson, once and for all--"
"No, you ain't, because if'n you do, you're not only gonna get yerself killed, but yer gonna get hellfire an' fury rained down on this farm!"
"He can't do that to a man!"
"No, but he does, an' once you're outta the way, he'll come after yours. Think about Katherine!"
Jim's hands are on Samuel's shoulders, and the man stops cold.
"They'll take it out of her flesh, Sam," Jim says quietly.
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Or speaking, for that matter.
So he stays quiet. Silent backup, in case Jim needs it.
(He doesn't think he will, given the way Samuel freezes when Jim mentions Katherine.
Then again, that could just be fuel to the fire.)
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The men fall silent, and for a long time no one moves.
Eventually, Samuel's shoulders slump, and with a resigned sigh he drags a heavy hand through his hair, knocking his hat off his head in the process.
"Fuck."
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Jay looks down at the ground and then scuffs his foot against the dirt. "M'gonna get the kit an' head back in," he says quietly, before he backs up a few steps and then takes his leave, heading for the bunkhouse to rifle through his bag.
He checks the kit (assembled in the bar) and makes certain that anything that might be a bit too modern stays in his bag. The curved needle and finer thread are coming with him, however.
It only takes him a moment or two before he's heading back into the house, for the study again.
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Inside the house, dinner is a rather somber affair.
Katherine is back in the study, continuing to clean the wound on Joseph's face, and a few other cuts on his hands and lip. She works slowly, giving him time to take careful bites from his plate of food.
(He eats like a man half-starved.)
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A glance at the man's plate, and then he kneels down slightly, in front of him.
"Joseph? Can I git you anythin' else to eat or drink? I know they got plenty in the kitchen."
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"The young Miss already asked me that. No, I'm alright," he says slowly, working on polishing off his potatoes.
Katherine's eyes very briefly skate to Jay, before returning to Joseph's face.
"Did my daddy leave?"
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He better not leave.
Jay does go to the kitchen himself, to wash his hands again, and he rolls up his sleeves to the elbows once he's finished. By the time he re-enters the study, Joseph is finished with his meal, plate cleared and set aside. As he approaches, the eyes the cut over the gentleman's eyebrow - it's a nice one.
"I'm gonna take care of that 'fore you," he tells him, as he pulls a chair closer and fetches his kit again, opening it to reveal a few various needles, threads, tweezers, a small pair of snips, a capped blade and some squares of cloth.
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"Thank you."
Her sleeves are already rolled up, so as Jay pulls a chair near, she touches his shoulder lightly. "I can help."
It's an offer, regardless of the look on her face that says, 'I'm going to help.'
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He picks a curved needle out of the kit and some thread.
A beat.
"Actually, Darlin', if you...can thread this for me? I got good eyes but might be easier for you do."
Plus, she'll get to help him from the get-go.
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And then he calls her 'Darlin'.'
She takes the needle from him, as her cheeks flame pink, and begins threading the eye in bashful silence.
"Are you sum kinda doctor?" asks Joseph, eying the kit with his good eye.
The needle is ready, and Katherine holds it out to him.
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He checks the knot and then carefully reaches up to touch the skin over Joseph's eye, turning his head to get him in the proper light.
"This'll likely sting a bit, but try not to move too much," he apologizes. "I got a steady hand so it won't take that long."
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"S'all right. I have a pretty good tolerance for pain."
Katherine stands quiet next to them, turning her head away at the words.
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He's got careful hands - poet's hands, doctor's hands, gunfighter's hands - and he calmly begins to work, careful to take his time to do the job right. He places careful, even stitches along the length of the split.
Midway through, he speaks to the girl at his side.
"Can you wipe away that bit of blood, 'long the top above where I'm about to stitch?"
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He winces a little, all throughout the procedure, but he never cries out or moves an inch.
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Jay makes simple work of the rest of the wound, ties it off and then glances at her.
"Can I get those snips?"
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Her hair is falling from the careful pin job she'd done this morning, loose bangs and curls falling into her eyes. She brushes them away, but they simply fall back again.
"You sure seem to know a lot," she murmurs.
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He carefully pulls the thread and needle taut and then reachs for the small scissors, cutting the excess off with a quiet snip before he sits back slightly.
"Anywhere else that needs attention?"
He knows slave owners. Sometimes the damage isn't limited to the face.
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"You ever seen an outlaw?"
Until, of course, it doesn't.
>.>
Joseph slowly shakes his head. "No, sir. Don't reckon there is, no more."
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Jay nods once, carefully, taking one last look at the cut and stitching. He's content with what he's done, though he wishes he could do more. He reaches for the kit to wipe the needle clean and put everything back in his place.
"Swelling will hold a day or two, but the thread should keep tight 'til that heals a bit."
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"Thank you, sir. Honest. Thank you so much," Joseph says, with a great deal of gratitude in his tired voice.
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He means it. Nevermind that he hasn't even eaten yet himself (he fully expects to find something to pick at once most everyone else has cleared out) but his focus is on Joseph.
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