Ben dodged and drove another punch into Arthur’s left jaw. “I’ll show you wounded.” He struck a blow to Arthur’s gut.
Arthur groaned, doubled over, and rammed his shoulder into Ben’s stomach. They tumbled. The two rolled, a flurry of jabs and knees and grunts. Ben regained his feet and swiped his sleeve across the trickle of blood from his lip. Breathing heavily, Arthur pushed up, crouching, hands ready, his eye swollen, and his nose bleeding.
“Enough,” Cora called out.
“No, they’re not finished yet. Let ’em go at it some more,” a farmer yelled.
Charlie squeezed through the crowd on the side and ran to her. “What’s happened?”
“Ben and Dr. LeBeau?—”
Arthur charged. Ben jerked away and slammed a hard right into Arthur’s ribs. The doctor stumbled but swept his feet beneath Ben’s, taking them both down. Punches and jabs. They wrestled. The smack of flesh to flesh.
Arthur jerked free, his white shirt smeared with dirt and blood. He rammed a boot into Ben’s gut.
“Uhhn.” Ben flinched.
Arthur drew back for a second kick. Ben grabbed his booted foot and yanked him down. He pounced on top of him, pinning him to the ground, knees on the doctor’s thighs, grinding his hands into the dirt with his own. “You finished shooting off your mouth, scum?”
Cora shoved Charlie behind her and edged forward. Drops of blood and sweat dampened the ground near the two men. This needed to stop. “No more. You’re done.” She gritted out the words.
Hair poking out in every direction and face swollen, Arthur sliced a glare up at Ben. His lip curled. “I bet even now if you smelled laudanum, if someone had a bottle and took the lid off…” His voice became barely more than a hiss. “You’d drop to your knees and beg for a taste.”
Ben’s left hand clamped down on the man’s throat. Arthur gasped and clawed at the vice-like grip. Ben drew his right arm back, fist clenched, ready to drive a powerful blow into LeBeau’s face.
“No.” Cora latched onto Ben’s shoulder and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re better than that.”
His upper arm trembled beneath her hand, like a steam engine held back by a loose brake, ready to burst forth.
“You’re better than that.” She repeated the reminder and curled her fingers around his muscle.
He puffed out breaths.
“No, he’s not…” Arthur huffed, struggling for air. A vein bulged across his left temple.
“Only for you.” Ben grunted, shook free of her hold, and struck the ground with his fist inches from Arthur’s head.
LeBeau flinched.
Ben loosened his grip and stood.
LeBeau rolled to the side and coughed.
“Way to go.” Some of the crowd cheered.
“What are you talking about? That’s our doctor,” others rebutted.
“Snooty nose doctor.”
“Snooty doctor’s better than a Yank,” another hollered.
Cora stiffened her wobbly limbs. “My brother, Jeb sent him.” Swiping her nose, she turned in a circle, meeting their eyes. “Anyone dishonors him, they dishonor the Scott family.”
Ben swung his gaze to her.
Surprise? Pain? What else? The unfathomable hazel eyes held hers for a breath, then he retrieved his gun belt and strode off. The crowd parted in his wake.
Arthur pushed up onto his hands and knees.
