Currently in a state of Butch Cavendish obsession. Any other fans out there? So I thought I might give it a shot. Not enough good Butch stories out there I think. I might continue with it. Reviews help!
A rainy night
"did ye find the doctor?" Frank asked Barret when the latter arrived back at the camp one cold, rainy evening. Barret nodded and pointed at a scared, tied up man with a handkerchief in his mouth atop one of their horses. "he didn't really go willingly" the gang member chuckled. "How's Butch?" Frank frowned, like a young boy who had just dropped his ice cream. "He aint doing too good, but he won't let anyone near him" he replied. Looks were exchanged among the other gang members, their leader wasn't the touching type. You better knew what you were doing if you reached out to him. And especially now he seemed to going down with something, he was all the more the growling dog he could be.
Barret untied the doctor and pushed him toward the sleeping form of Butch, laying a bit further away from the fire as usual, his back to his gang. "Mind yer fingers, doc. He tends te bite" Barret said, causing the gang to snicker as the doctor turned pale. Nevertheless the man made a brave attempt to aid his patient. "Mister Cavendish? I'm going to have to ask you to face me, sir. And tell me what's troubling you" the doctor asked, leaning over the gang leader. There was a long silence, followed by an annoyed sigh from Butch. "ah told all of them morons over there, ah just need to sleep. Yer wasting yer time, doc" the doctor swallowed and looked at the gang helplessly. It was Frank who eventually broke the silence.
"ye aint just tired, Butch. Tell the doctor ye threw up this morning, and yer cold all the tahm. Shivering and.." "shut up!" with strength they didn't know he possessed Butch had gotten to his feet, his knife to Frank's throat and stared down the worried criminals surrounding him. "Ye shut yer mouth, Frank, I aint gonna ask twice" Butch continued. With eyes wide as saucers, Frank nodded and the knife was pulled away from his throat. The doctor had regained his bearings somewhat and straightened up, ready to talk to Butch, who was after all, his patient. "Mister Cavendish, I do so recommend you let me examine you. If you happen to have Cholera I don't want to leave you out in the desert untreated" he said. After a moment, Butch locked eyes with the doctor. "ah don't have any of that. Now git gone. Give him a horse! Let him go" the outlaw answered and turned away, sinking back onto his cot.
There was nothing else the doctor dared to do with this unwilling patient, so he turned to the gang instead. "He cannot stay out on the rain and cold with a fever like this. He needs a warm place to rest this off." he said. The gang members looked at eachother, none of them had a place to go, they were all outlaws, on the run from something. There were no warm places to go to. "we could go to a brothel" Skinny suggested "Brothels are warm" they all chuckled. "and who's going to pay for that? No one of us has any money, neither has Butch. Why do you think we're out here in the rain, you dipshit?!" Ray yelled at him. "gentlemen, please! Your leader might be very sick! Surely there must be some place you can all go to.. for emergencies" the doctor urged, causing more looks to be exchanged among the outlaws. There was no emergency place to go to. If you happened to get sick, you might as well started your prayers you'd be strong enough to live it out in the open air.
"Get real, doc" Garret started "nobody aides a gang of outlaws. There is nowhere we can go with him" "I don't want te go anywhere!" Butch hollered, getting up and swaying on his already unsteady legs, sweat dripping down his face. "If ye could all shut your traps and let me sleep in peace, I'd be right as rain in the morning. But ye all had to disturb my rest by dragging this doctor into our camp! I never asked fer ye to bring me a medicine man! Git rid of him" the doctor was all too willing to fulfil Butch' wish and jumped on the horse that was appointed to him.
When Ray, Skinny and the doctor rode off back to town, Butch leaned forward as if he was going to topple over. He panted, trying to catch his breath and regain his bearing. But everything was spinning in front of his eyes. Frank tried to take his arm to support him but was thrown off immediately. "Git off me! Don't ye ever touch me again, boy!" Butch yelled, aiming his gun at the young man's head. "ahm sorry, Butch! Ah meant nuthin' by it! Ye just looked like ye were goin' te fall over, that's all!" Frank cried in his defence. He had had Butch' gun pointed at him before, the boy was a little slow, but it was never with the rage he now saw in the gang leader's eyes. The young outlaw watched as Butch sank back onto his cot and laid down on his back, panting heavily, and crawled over to him slowly.
"ye know what we could do, Butch? There's a place not so far from here. Some ranch folk lives there, ah believe. We could shoot it up and use the place for a bit. Give you a proper bed and all" Butch listened vaguely to Frank's suggestion but had to close his eyes eventually. "Just let me sleep" he growled and turned on his side, his back to Frank.
When the rest of the gang returned to camp, Butch was vast asleep, leaving his gang to ponder on what to do next. Nobody felt like moving Butch around against his will. All they could do now, was hope that their leader would feel better in the morning.