You know how there are always gaps in the show's episodes - when you don't see how they got from A to B?
Here's one version of how Curry got Heyes back to the Carlson ranch in Fifth Victim and fetched the Doctor...
“Heyes!” Curry cried out in fear and shock as he watched his partner fall sideways off his horse and roll down the hill. With a quick glance around, Curry jumped off his horse and raced down to where Hannibal Heyes lay on the ground, so still that Curry went white while his gut crawled with fear.
Kneeling down beside his partner, he lay his head on Heyes’ chest, listening for a heartbeat. Relieved to hear a faint thumping, he gently moved Heyes’ head and saw the deep gash in the forehead, blood streaming out and running down Heyes’ face. Pulling off his bandanna, he tied it around his partner’s head, covering the wound. Only now did he look around, searching for the ambusher. The darkness and thick vegetation hid any trace and Curry felt his muscles tense as he anticipated a shot at himself. Looking back at his partner, lying still and silent on his back, Curry realised that it whatever the unseen assailant may or may not do, he couldn’t worry about it, he had to get Heyes to help.
Curry raised Heyes up and half carried, half dragged him back up the hill to their horses. Though Heyes’ horse had been startled by the shot, it hadn’t bolted and was stood not far away, its sides heaving. Propping Heyes against a rock, Curry approached the animal and stroked its neck soothingly while tying the reins to a nearby tree. He then returned to Heyes, bent and lifted him over his shoulder. Staggering a little, Curry stood and carried Heyes over to his horse. It took time and a not inconsiderable effort for Curry to haul Heyes over the horse. Fortunately, the animal stood patiently still but Curry was sweating hard by the time he’d finished. Heyes had not moved or woken and Curry was concerned about the effect on his partner of all the agitation. He checked again that Heyes was breathing. It was shallow but seemed regular. Murmuring an apology to his partner, Curry tied a rope around Heyes’ wrists, not too tightly, passing it under the horse’s belly and then round Heyes’ ankles. Curry would have preferred to ride behind Heyes and hold him on, but in the dark, on this little path, he felt more secure riding his own horse and leading Heyes. It also left him free to use his gun should the ambusher try again.
Curry mounted his own horse, drew up to Heyes’, released the reins and, holding both sets in his left hand, turned his animal around to head back down the path.
It was only then that Curry turned his mind to where he was going. Heyes obviously needed urgent attention in a safe place. It would be a long ride to town; Curry didn’t want to put Heyes through that. Suddenly it struck him. The nearest place was the Carlsons’. They would be certain to take Heyes in and Mrs Carlson would help him take care of Heyes. Curry headed back the way they’d come, impatient at the slow speed he was forced to take but anxious not to make things worse for Heyes by jogging him in the saddle.
For the next hour, Hannibal Heyes remained out cold, oblivious to his situation. Kid Curry, on the other hand, endured the most miserable and longest hour of his life.
Curry kept Heyes’ horse up close so that he could keep watch over Heyes, regularly placing a hand on Heyes’ back to confirm he was still breathing. He ignored the discomfort of the horse banging into his leg. His right hand rarely strayed far from the butt of his gun and his ears strained for the slightest sound. His back remained tense as he expected to feel a bullet. The murderer was still out there and Curry was unable to relax. He was certain that the person who’d shot Heyes was the same person who had killed the Judge and Holmes.
After cresting a hill, Curry finally saw the warm, welcoming lights of the Carlson’s ranch house. Pausing for a moment, Curry scanned the area. There was little cover and it didn’t seem like it was the murderer’s method to attack in the open. Curry spurred on to the door and banged on it, his sense of urgency making him hit harder than he’d intended.
Carlson opened the door, a look of surprise on his face when he saw his visitor.
“Jones! What brings you back?” He looked out, seeking the partner.
“Joshua, he……” and suddenly, Kid Curry couldn’t talk, couldn’t bring himself to say the dreadful news. Instead, he sank back against the door frame and pointed in the direction of the horses.
Carlson looked from Curry’s face to the body draped over the horse and his heart sank. He liked the two drifters; they were amiable young men and hard workers. And, having recently buried two friends, he dreaded a third.
“Rachel!” he called to his wife and went out to Smith.
Curry straightened. “He’s not dead, yet, I think. I, I needed somewhere to bring him. You don’t mind? I have to find a doctor, get help.”
Carlson untied Smith, as Mrs Carlson arrived at the door.
“Mr. Smith has been shot.”
Rachel Carlson remained calm. “Bring him into the bedroom.” she instructed.
Curry went over to join Carlson and together the two men carried Heyes into the bedroom and laid him on the bed.
Mrs Carlson brushed them aside and sat next to Heyes. She brushed his hair off his forehead and examined the wound. Heyes face was caked with blood and it was impossible to see the damage or whether it was still bleeding. She felt for a pulse and was a little reassured.
“I need to get a doctor.” Curry’s voice was strained.
Carlson looked at Jones. “I can fetch him, if you want to stay here……?”
Kid shook his head. “No, I can’t sit doing nothing. I’ll go.”
“His house is on 2nd Street, it has a white fence.”
“Thanks.” Curry hesitated and looked back at Heyes.
Mrs Carlson smiled gently at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.”
Curry nodded, his mind made up. Heyes would be safe. He’d made it so far, the best help he could give Heyes was to find the doctor and quickly.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Carlson accompanied him to the door and watched as he mounted. “Take care.”
Curry nodded, turned his horse and spurred it toward town.
He rode into the town and searched out the doctor’s. It was easily found and once more Curry banged on a door. When there was no answer, he began to pound on it and continued until finally a short, thin man appeared around the corner.
“He’s not in.”
“Where is he?”
“Out where?” Curry’s voice rose somewhat as exasperation set in.
“With a patient, I guess.”
“Where?” hollered Curry, infuriated.
“Can’t say.” The man started to amble back around the house.
Curry’s temper snapped. He dashed to the man, grabbed his lapels and thrust him against the wall of the house.
“Where is he?” he enunciated slowly and menacingly.
“I dunno. Didn’t ask.” The man whimpered and stuttered.
Curry’s face darkened and his blue eyes were like ice.
“Mebbe he left a note?” the man said, hopefully.
Curry stepped back and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He needed to keep his temper. He smiled, though, as his eyes remained icy, the effect was somewhat lost on the trembling man.
“Why don’t we go see?” Kid said pleasantly as he smoothed down the man’s lapels.
“Sure, sure.” The man went up to the door and let Curry in. Inside the hall was a small table on which lay a scribbled note; it said “Mrs Skinner.”
“Whose Mrs Skinner?”
“She lives west of town, on a small homestead. Bout five miles away. He coulda gone there, I s’pose.”
“Thanks.” Curry muttered as he headed out to his horse.
He drove the animal hard to the Skinner place. Lights shone out.
For the third time that night, Curry pounded on a front door.
A man, older than his years, looking worried and harassed, opened it. He was distracted, darting glances back into the interior.
“Is the doctor here?”
“Is. The. Doctor. Here.”
“Yes, yes.” The man was agitated.
“Can I see him?” Curry pushed his way inside and stopped.
An older man was kneeling by a woman on a bed, a woman who was obviously giving birth. Curry felt his face redden with embarrassment. The woman was obviously in a lot of pain. Mr. Skinner ignored Curry’s entrance and hurried back to his wife’s side.
The doctor looked up at Kid. His expression was neutral. He smiled briefly.
“Did you want me?”
“Er, yes.” Curry paused. The doctor’s expression encouraged him to go on. “My friend has been shot, in the head. I was hoping……” he trailed off, glancing helplessly at the woman.
“Where is he?”
“At the Carlsons’.”
A high pitched scream drew the doctor’s attention and Curry quickly left the room. He stood still on the porch and folded his arms. He appeared relaxed, but his mind was racing.
The doctor was needed here, that was obvious. Heyes wasn’t dying, at least Kid didn’t believe he was, at least he hadn’t before so he wouldn’t now, probably, hopefully. He was just out cold, wasn’t he? Kid mentally crossed his fingers. If he took the doctor away and something happened to Mrs Skinner or the baby…Kid knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. If Heyes was, well, it was a constant risk, Kid knew that he’d have to live with whatever happened. Mrs Skinner needed help and Kid Curry just couldn’t bring himself to deny her.
He spent a restless few hours on the Skinner’s porch. Every now and then, there would be a heartrending scream and then silence. Curry felt helpless and anxious. Visions of Heyes lying still on the ground and of funerals invaded his mind; visions he found increasingly difficult to push away. Finally, a baby’s cry echoed around the building. Curry risked popping his head around the corner of the front door.
“How is she?”
The doctor looked up, surprised.
“Goodness, I thought you’d gone.”
“My friend, I’d still like you to come see him. I figured I’d wait……”
The doctor looked over at Mrs Skinner.
“It was very difficult, but they are both fine. Give me five minutes and then I’ll be with you.”
Curry nodded and disappeared again.
Ten minutes later, the doctor came out of the house.
“Now, I believe you said your friend had been shot and was at the Carlsons?”
“Let’s get over there then.” The doctor mounted his horse and the two men rode away.
It was getting light as the two men approached the Carlsons. Carlson was waiting for them.
“Doctor. Mr. Jones. Mr. Smith is still unconscious, but he is alive.”
Relief flashed briefly across Kid’s face.
Carlson led the way into the bedroom. Heyes lay in a brass double bed, under the sheets. His face had been cleaned up and the gash was clearly visible. He was also wearing a nightshirt.
Curry looked quizzically at Mrs Carlson, who smiled back at him.
“I thought I’d make him comfortable.”
The doctor knelt down beside Heyes and opened his bag. He began to wipe gently at the wound with one of his preparations, while examining Heyes. Curry stood next to him, leaning against the bedhead, watching Heyes and the doctor. Mrs Carlson was at the other side of the doctor, with a small pan of water. Carlson looked on, with concern, from behind the trio.
Finally, the doctor spoke. “Came as close to killing as anything I’d ever care to see. There are no fractures, so he should regain consciousness within the next 24 hours. On the other hand it could take longer, we’ll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, he mustn’t be moved. He should be watched.”
Rachel Carlson immediately volunteered, “I’ll be here.” Carlson added, “Anything you can do to fix him up, I’ll pay for it Doc.”
Curry glanced at him, a little surprised by the offer, but also relieved. He felt justified in having brought Heyes back here.
“Well, I’ve done everything I can Jake.” The Doctor answered.
The Doctor finished giving a few instructions to Mrs Carlson on the care of her patient as Curry and Carlson left the room and went outside.