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OOM : New York City
He's standing in his classroom, making a fool of himself in front of his students while teaching them about the letter 'W', walking around like he's drunk and trying to get them into the lesson when the door swings open, hitting the wall behind it with a noise that makes the whole class jump.
There's a collective gasp between the students and Doc himself, as six armed men, all with rifles and badges that glisten in the low light pouring in through dusty windows, stare him at him.
"Josiah Gordon Scurlock, also known as 'Doc' Scurlock?"
Doc is tempted to say no, to duck and run, to claim that they've got the wrong man in their sights, but he's not brave enough to do it in front of all the kids, and when there's a chance they could be hurt in the crossfire. So he nods, slowly.
The sheriff curls his lips into a grim smile as the sound of six hammers are cocked back and primed to fire at will. He almost laughs, and he can read the look in his eyes. Well, well, what've we got here.
"Don't you move."
He doesn't. He sets the board with the letter down, raises his hands slightly and steps towards the men. One of them reaches for his wrists and Doc gives him a warning glance, then lowers his voice.
"Cuff me all you want, I ain't runnin', just don't do it in front of them, alright?"
The armed men look at the frightened faces behind Doc, and then nod slowly. He turns around to look at the boys. "Another teacher will be along in just a moment, we're going to go settle some business. Right now, I want you all to take out a piece of paper and write down all the words you can think of that start with the letter W, alright?"
There's a quiet echo of 'yes, sir' from the room, then as papers begin to rustle from rucksacks, Doc steps into the hall and holds his hands out in front of him. The irons snap tight around his wrists.
"You're being taken into custody to stand trial for," the man pauses, when someone walks down the hall.
"Josiah, what's going on?"
"Sir, this man here is a highly dangerous criminal,"
"I am not dangerous,"
"He's been on the run since January of last year from the United States Army,"
"You must have the wrong man, Mister Scurlock is a highly respected,"
"Jacob," Doc's voice is soft, as he shakes his head. "Let it go. The boys are doing their penmanship,"
The sheriff pipes up. "To stand trial for the murders of several members of the Murphy-Dolan gang, for crimes against the United States Army, murder of several officers of the cavalry, as well as theft, illicit activities involving a woman in a place of ill,"
"That's enough, Sheriff," Doc finally spits out, eyes flashing dangerously. "Let's just take me to jail and get it over with."
The smirk comes back. "Jail? Why Mister Scurlock, the train leaves when we arrive at the station. We're headed back to Lincoln County," comes the laugh, before they march him out of the building, ignoring his protests. He doesn't mention Yen-Sun or his young son, because he doesn't want them to be targeted or brought in.
Once they get him in the stagecoach to head to the trainstation, the put leg irons on him and ruffle up his hair, teasing and poking at him like they've caught themselves a ten pound fish from a creek the size of a stream of horse piss. Josiah doesn't say anything, just sits and stares out the window of the stagecoach as they bump along dirty streets, not even hearing them rib on him anymore. He doesn't want to hear it.
Finally, he just closes his eyes and thinks one thought over and over.
Yen, I'm sorry...
There's a collective gasp between the students and Doc himself, as six armed men, all with rifles and badges that glisten in the low light pouring in through dusty windows, stare him at him.
"Josiah Gordon Scurlock, also known as 'Doc' Scurlock?"
Doc is tempted to say no, to duck and run, to claim that they've got the wrong man in their sights, but he's not brave enough to do it in front of all the kids, and when there's a chance they could be hurt in the crossfire. So he nods, slowly.
The sheriff curls his lips into a grim smile as the sound of six hammers are cocked back and primed to fire at will. He almost laughs, and he can read the look in his eyes. Well, well, what've we got here.
"Don't you move."
He doesn't. He sets the board with the letter down, raises his hands slightly and steps towards the men. One of them reaches for his wrists and Doc gives him a warning glance, then lowers his voice.
"Cuff me all you want, I ain't runnin', just don't do it in front of them, alright?"
The armed men look at the frightened faces behind Doc, and then nod slowly. He turns around to look at the boys. "Another teacher will be along in just a moment, we're going to go settle some business. Right now, I want you all to take out a piece of paper and write down all the words you can think of that start with the letter W, alright?"
There's a quiet echo of 'yes, sir' from the room, then as papers begin to rustle from rucksacks, Doc steps into the hall and holds his hands out in front of him. The irons snap tight around his wrists.
"You're being taken into custody to stand trial for," the man pauses, when someone walks down the hall.
"Josiah, what's going on?"
"Sir, this man here is a highly dangerous criminal,"
"I am not dangerous,"
"He's been on the run since January of last year from the United States Army,"
"You must have the wrong man, Mister Scurlock is a highly respected,"
"Jacob," Doc's voice is soft, as he shakes his head. "Let it go. The boys are doing their penmanship,"
The sheriff pipes up. "To stand trial for the murders of several members of the Murphy-Dolan gang, for crimes against the United States Army, murder of several officers of the cavalry, as well as theft, illicit activities involving a woman in a place of ill,"
"That's enough, Sheriff," Doc finally spits out, eyes flashing dangerously. "Let's just take me to jail and get it over with."
The smirk comes back. "Jail? Why Mister Scurlock, the train leaves when we arrive at the station. We're headed back to Lincoln County," comes the laugh, before they march him out of the building, ignoring his protests. He doesn't mention Yen-Sun or his young son, because he doesn't want them to be targeted or brought in.
Once they get him in the stagecoach to head to the trainstation, the put leg irons on him and ruffle up his hair, teasing and poking at him like they've caught themselves a ten pound fish from a creek the size of a stream of horse piss. Josiah doesn't say anything, just sits and stares out the window of the stagecoach as they bump along dirty streets, not even hearing them rib on him anymore. He doesn't want to hear it.
Finally, he just closes his eyes and thinks one thought over and over.
Yen, I'm sorry...