He's bed-ridden because of the high fever he's running. It had taken two men from the gang and all women in the camp to convince him to take a rest --- his sickness wasn't a deadly one, but it was affecting his health enough.

"Ah, thank God you're back, angel." He says as you come back to his side, after hours of being alone with his thoughts, to weak to even take his journal.

His western accent is thicker due to the sickness. "You're the only good thing this bed has brought me."