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lesson plans - six
[previous: five]
(The week that Tim Hunter spends on the ranch is one of the more surreal weeks of Doc's life.)
It's almost like the days before the Lincoln County War -- a full day of honest work, followed by a hearty meal and a drink or two by the fireplace with friends. It's easy to forget the facts; that the Regulators are all dead and buried, that they 'lost' the war against the Murphy-Dolan faction and the Santa Fe Ring, and the bounty that sits on his head.
The bounty that used to sit on his head.
Doc keeps the story of how he survived the gunbattle at Stinking Springs to himself -- Tim gets the hint to stop asking after the third or fourth time that Doc changes the subject as soon as the question is asked, with a gruff curse and stern glare. Frank is smart enough not to ask, but that doesn't hide the fact that he's curious.
He knows they're curious.
You'd be curious, too.
But he's not about to tell them of a vest made of material that can stop bullets, and he's definitely not going to mention healers and doctors in a bar that is located at the end of the universe.
They'd think you're crazy.
He catches himself looking for doors on the day that Hunter saddles up his horse and rides off to the north, headed away from the ranch. None show, and he's not sure whether he's relieved or disappointed -- knowing deep down that it's a little of both, and quite a bit more of something else. Something else that he won't admit -- or that he'd never planned on admitting, anyway.
Of course, plans are always subject to change.
The room is dark, except for the soft glow of burning kerosene coming from the lamp in the corner.
"So what's her name?" Frank's sitting against the wall, a bottle of whiskey resting against his hip, eyes closed.
"Katherine."
"S'pretty."
Doc smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. It doesn't matter, since his friend isn't looking at him. "It is. So is she."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. She's…she's got the prettiest hair y'ever seen. Long'n fine, gold like corn silk in the sunlight, it just…Christ, I love runnin' my hands through it like nothin' else." He swallows down a sigh and reaches for the bottle of whiskey. "Eyes like open sky, right after a rainstorm. Y'know? When there ain't a speck of dust t'be found, nothin' but blue. Endless…y'just git lost in 'em. I do, anyway."
"Sounds like it, y'gettin' lost just talkin' 'bout her."
"Ain't lost, just wanderin' s'all."
"That so?"
Doc takes a long pull off the bottle. "Yeah. It is."
Frank reaches his hand out. "She a good kisser?"
"Incredible," Doc replies, passing the bottle back before he wraps an arm around his knees. "S'like…well hell, ain't no way t'describe it and no words're good 'nough to, so use your 'magination."
"I am."
"You better not be, McNab, or I'll sock you."
"S'not a threat, y'never were a fighter."
"I still ain't, but that don't mean I can't make y'regret it."
"Mm," Frank smirks. "We'll see 'bout that. Tell me more 'bout'er."
"She's real smart," Doc says. "One'a the smartest women I ever known. S'like she ain't 'fraid t'learn, and she loves it…used t'be a teacher, 'fore it went t'hell for her back home."
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
The change in Doc's tone is enough to catch Frank's attention, and he cracks his eyes open, looking over at his friend. "What happened t'her," he asks.
Doc shakes his head. "Ain't my story t'tell."
"C'mon, Doc. She ain't here t'tell it, is she?"
"No, she ain't, but that don't mean I'm gonna go 'bout spreadin' it all over the territory, now am I."
"Wasn't suggestin' that."
"No, Frank…I can't." He closes his eyes, shaking his head again -- ignoring the way the room spins around him, though he's not sure if it's from the pounding of his heart or the alcohol running races through his bloodstream. He feels fuzzy around the edges, and knows this is going to hurt come dawn, but he doesn't quite care. He can't make himself care, not when there's no reason. "S'not like she's just some girl in some town…she's special."
"Special like that China girl y'used t'go doe-eyed over?" The instant the words leave Frank's mouth, he sees the way Doc's features shift, taking on a subtle darkness that wasn't there earlier. "I mean t'say…"
"What, Frank?"
"That…y'cared for her a lot, too."
Doc opens his eyes and glares over at his friend, eyes glittering in the flickering lamplight. "I do care 'bout her, Frank. And my son."
There's a pause, heavy air in the room making it hard to breathe.
"…you have a son?"
"Not no more," Doc bites out, pushing himself up to his feet. Unsteady, he presses a hand against the wall. "Not no more."
"…you lose him?"
"Suppose y'could say so, Frank. Y'could say."
"What's that supposed t'mean?"
"Nothin'."
"Doc--"
"Drop it," comes the terse reply. "Y'don't want to go there with me, not right now. Not ever, y'hear me? I ain't got that China girl, and I ain't a father to that boy with my eyes, and I ain't even a man t'the woman who's got my heart. So just drop it, and leave me be, alright? M'tired."
"Y'can't just walk away."
"Done it 'fore."
"Not from me."
"First time for everything," Doc replies, as he carefully picks his steps across the kitchen.
"I'm a Regulator, y'can't just--" Frank stops mid-sentence when Doc stops walking. "--you can't just leave."
Doc focuses on a spot on the floor, eyes distant. "I left plenty of Regulators, Frank. When they needed not t'be left."
None of them deserved to rot in the dust.
Frank pushes himself up off the floor, reaching for a chair to steady his balance. "Doc, that wasn't your choice."
"I ran, Frank."
"You had to."
"No I didn't. I could have stayed and made sure we made things right, but I turned tail'n ran, just like I ran from New York, and Yen and Jonathan, and just like I ran from Kate, I should have stayed…" his words trail off as his voice betrays him.
"Doc…y'can go back."
"Can't find the way back. S'no way out."
"There's always--"
"I can't find it." He snaps the last two words out in a growl, his eyes shifting from the floor to his friend. "I been lookin' for months."
"Can't find…what?"
Doc turns his head, looking towards the front room, a strange expression on his face.
"Doc?"
"The door."
(The week that Tim Hunter spends on the ranch is one of the more surreal weeks of Doc's life.)
It's almost like the days before the Lincoln County War -- a full day of honest work, followed by a hearty meal and a drink or two by the fireplace with friends. It's easy to forget the facts; that the Regulators are all dead and buried, that they 'lost' the war against the Murphy-Dolan faction and the Santa Fe Ring, and the bounty that sits on his head.
The bounty that used to sit on his head.
Doc keeps the story of how he survived the gunbattle at Stinking Springs to himself -- Tim gets the hint to stop asking after the third or fourth time that Doc changes the subject as soon as the question is asked, with a gruff curse and stern glare. Frank is smart enough not to ask, but that doesn't hide the fact that he's curious.
He knows they're curious.
You'd be curious, too.
But he's not about to tell them of a vest made of material that can stop bullets, and he's definitely not going to mention healers and doctors in a bar that is located at the end of the universe.
They'd think you're crazy.
He catches himself looking for doors on the day that Hunter saddles up his horse and rides off to the north, headed away from the ranch. None show, and he's not sure whether he's relieved or disappointed -- knowing deep down that it's a little of both, and quite a bit more of something else. Something else that he won't admit -- or that he'd never planned on admitting, anyway.
Of course, plans are always subject to change.
The room is dark, except for the soft glow of burning kerosene coming from the lamp in the corner.
"So what's her name?" Frank's sitting against the wall, a bottle of whiskey resting against his hip, eyes closed.
"Katherine."
"S'pretty."
Doc smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. It doesn't matter, since his friend isn't looking at him. "It is. So is she."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. She's…she's got the prettiest hair y'ever seen. Long'n fine, gold like corn silk in the sunlight, it just…Christ, I love runnin' my hands through it like nothin' else." He swallows down a sigh and reaches for the bottle of whiskey. "Eyes like open sky, right after a rainstorm. Y'know? When there ain't a speck of dust t'be found, nothin' but blue. Endless…y'just git lost in 'em. I do, anyway."
"Sounds like it, y'gettin' lost just talkin' 'bout her."
"Ain't lost, just wanderin' s'all."
"That so?"
Doc takes a long pull off the bottle. "Yeah. It is."
Frank reaches his hand out. "She a good kisser?"
"Incredible," Doc replies, passing the bottle back before he wraps an arm around his knees. "S'like…well hell, ain't no way t'describe it and no words're good 'nough to, so use your 'magination."
"I am."
"You better not be, McNab, or I'll sock you."
"S'not a threat, y'never were a fighter."
"I still ain't, but that don't mean I can't make y'regret it."
"Mm," Frank smirks. "We'll see 'bout that. Tell me more 'bout'er."
"She's real smart," Doc says. "One'a the smartest women I ever known. S'like she ain't 'fraid t'learn, and she loves it…used t'be a teacher, 'fore it went t'hell for her back home."
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
The change in Doc's tone is enough to catch Frank's attention, and he cracks his eyes open, looking over at his friend. "What happened t'her," he asks.
Doc shakes his head. "Ain't my story t'tell."
"C'mon, Doc. She ain't here t'tell it, is she?"
"No, she ain't, but that don't mean I'm gonna go 'bout spreadin' it all over the territory, now am I."
"Wasn't suggestin' that."
"No, Frank…I can't." He closes his eyes, shaking his head again -- ignoring the way the room spins around him, though he's not sure if it's from the pounding of his heart or the alcohol running races through his bloodstream. He feels fuzzy around the edges, and knows this is going to hurt come dawn, but he doesn't quite care. He can't make himself care, not when there's no reason. "S'not like she's just some girl in some town…she's special."
"Special like that China girl y'used t'go doe-eyed over?" The instant the words leave Frank's mouth, he sees the way Doc's features shift, taking on a subtle darkness that wasn't there earlier. "I mean t'say…"
"What, Frank?"
"That…y'cared for her a lot, too."
Doc opens his eyes and glares over at his friend, eyes glittering in the flickering lamplight. "I do care 'bout her, Frank. And my son."
There's a pause, heavy air in the room making it hard to breathe.
"…you have a son?"
"Not no more," Doc bites out, pushing himself up to his feet. Unsteady, he presses a hand against the wall. "Not no more."
"…you lose him?"
"Suppose y'could say so, Frank. Y'could say."
"What's that supposed t'mean?"
"Nothin'."
"Doc--"
"Drop it," comes the terse reply. "Y'don't want to go there with me, not right now. Not ever, y'hear me? I ain't got that China girl, and I ain't a father to that boy with my eyes, and I ain't even a man t'the woman who's got my heart. So just drop it, and leave me be, alright? M'tired."
"Y'can't just walk away."
"Done it 'fore."
"Not from me."
"First time for everything," Doc replies, as he carefully picks his steps across the kitchen.
"I'm a Regulator, y'can't just--" Frank stops mid-sentence when Doc stops walking. "--you can't just leave."
Doc focuses on a spot on the floor, eyes distant. "I left plenty of Regulators, Frank. When they needed not t'be left."
None of them deserved to rot in the dust.
Frank pushes himself up off the floor, reaching for a chair to steady his balance. "Doc, that wasn't your choice."
"I ran, Frank."
"You had to."
"No I didn't. I could have stayed and made sure we made things right, but I turned tail'n ran, just like I ran from New York, and Yen and Jonathan, and just like I ran from Kate, I should have stayed…" his words trail off as his voice betrays him.
"Doc…y'can go back."
"Can't find the way back. S'no way out."
"There's always--"
"I can't find it." He snaps the last two words out in a growl, his eyes shifting from the floor to his friend. "I been lookin' for months."
"Can't find…what?"
Doc turns his head, looking towards the front room, a strange expression on his face.
"Doc?"
"The door."