by J. T. Edson
Marvin Eldridge Leroy had been on the point of leaving home to attend medical college when bushwhack lead cut down his parents. Although he was forced to abandon his plans and take a job as a cowhand, he never forgot his ambition of following in his father’s footsteps and becoming a qualified doctor. Working on ranches, or driving cattle over the northbound trails to the Kansas railheads, he took every opportunity to continue his medical studies – and gradually earned a reputation as a doctor. People even called him ‘Doc’. There were men, women and children alive who would have been dead without his assistance.
There were also men who had died at his hands – experience had made him lightning fast and deadly with a Colt …
At last, Doc Leroy had a chance to complete his studies and gain the right to add the letters M.D. to his name. Then he discovered something that had eluded him for years – where to find the man responsible for his parents’ deaths …
For Brian Whitmore and the rest of the Doc Leroy syndrome,
who have been bugging me for years to write it.
Table of Contents
About the Book
Dedication
Doc Leroy M.D. – In Explanation
Part One – Lindrick’s Fancy Colts
One – I’ll Stay Here If You Want To
Two – All They Aim to Do Is Rob Us
Three – What’s You See In There?
Four – It’ll Hurt Less If You Talk
Five – He’s From West of the Big Muddy
Six – If You Touch It, You’re Dead
Seven – He’s Mine, And I’m Taking Him!
Eight – It’s the End of Your Career
Part Two – Lil Doc and Sir John
Nine – That’s Mean, Boy, Real Mean
Ten – Being a Doctor Might Not Save You
Eleven – I’ll Do What I Have To
Twelve – I Don’t Aim to Have It Spoiled
Thirteen – Going There Could Be Dangerous
Fourteen – There’s Only One Way Out
Fifteen – Kill Me and You’ve Killed Him, Too
Part Three – Doc’s Dilemma
Sixteen – Ole Devil’s Dead
Seventeen – You’ll Have to Keep Haynes Lashricker Alive
Author’s Note
Copyright
About the Author
Doc Leroy M.D. – In Explanation
Regular readers of the author’s work will no doubt notice certain discrepancies between this volume and the various earlier episodes which featured Marvin Eldridge ‘Doc’ Leroy. When writing Part Two, ‘Jordan’s Try’, of THE TOWN TAMERS, for example, I was under the impression that Doc had been attending medical college at the time of his parent’s death. However, while attending the 21st Annual Convention of Western Writers of America at Fort Worth, Texas, in 1974 and during a subsequent visit following the 22nd Convention, held in Carson City, Nevada, I was fortunate enough to meet several members of the Hardin, Fog and Blaze clan with whom I had previously only been in written contact. On the latter occasion, as I have never learned to drive, i I am indebted to my friends Elley and Chuck Kurtzman of Fort Worth. They not only put me up at their place—and also put up with my horrible ‘Swiss’ jokes—but also supplied me with the ‘wheels’ so vitally necessary when one wishes to travel about in Texas.
Particularly on the second visit, I was chiefly engaged in the task of learning the facts pertaining to the early career of General Jackson Baines ‘Ole Devil’ Hardin ii and hoping to discover why his Japanese servant, Tommy Okasi iii had come to the United States of America never to return to his homeland. Although I failed to achieve the latter, iv I was fortunate enough to find out how Doc Leroy continued his education and why Belle Boyd ‘The Rebel Spy’ v required the assistance of Martha Jane ‘Calamity Jane’ vi Canary on one of her assignments. vii With the help of Alvin Dustine ‘Cap’ Fog’ viii —formerly Captain commanding Company ‘J’ of the Texas Rangers ix —grandson of Captain Dustine Edward Marsden ‘Dusty’ Fog, C.S.A. x and no mean combat pistol shot in his own right, I obtained the material which is given in this book. Once again, I apologize for the misconceptions in the earlier titles and assure you that this is the true story of:
DOC LEROY, M.D.
J. T. Edson
Part One – Lindrick’s Fancy Colts
One – I’ll Stay Here If You Want To
‘I’ll be eternally damned if I could ever take kindly to living in a big city,’ declared Mrs. Lynn Leroy, nee Baker, formerly—and until very recently—residing in Two Forks, Utah Territory, xi eyeing her husband in a challenging fashion as they approached the front entrance of the New Orleans’ branch of the First National Bank. ‘Anyways, happen you’re a good lil boy, which you shouldn’t find no trouble in being now I’ve got you away from that shiftless, no-account brother-in-law of our’n, and you study real hard at that fancy doctors’ school, we shouldn’t need to stay on here for all that long.’
‘Now that’s no way to be talking about the honored, respected and appointed by the popular choice of all the good folks, sheriff of Two Forks County and kin to boot,’ Marvin Eldridge Leroy protested, his lazy sounding Texan’s drawl contrasting with the brisk Mid-Western accent of his bride of three months. ‘Even if it is all true.’
It was doubtful whether the majority of Lynn Leroy’s friends and acquaintances would have recognized her if they had been passing at that moment. Her pretty face still retained its healthy tan and bore an expression of self-confident zest for life. Nor had her five foot seven tall, slender—yet anything but skinny—body lost the grace of movement which told of complete physical fitness.
However, marriage and coming to a major city like New Orleans had brought an end—at least temporarily, she repeatedly told herself—to wearing a man’s shirt, trousers, riding boots and gunbelt slanting from her lift hip. Instead, a dainty green hat, decorated with a cluster of feathers from the tails of cock Cardinals, xii was held on her head of shortish black hair by a ribbon tied in a bow under her chin. Her matching jacket-bodice had long, tight sleeves but she eschewed the use of the black lace mittens so many ladies adopted. The overskirt was drawn up at the sides and bunched up at the back, with just a hint of high buttoned shoes peeping from beneath it. As fashion dictated, she had a folded parasol in her right hand. A somewhat larger and more bulky than usual vanity bag’s neck was grasped by her left thumb and fingers that augmented the carrying strap around her wrist.
And if it came to a point, many a cowhand with whom Marvin Eldridge Leroy had ridden the range and shared the hazards of trail drives from Texas to the railroad’s shipping pens in Kansas would have had to look twice before realizing it was him.
Even in those days of open air living, Marvin Eldridge Leroy’s six foot tall, lean frame had been topped by a good looking, somewhat studious face with a tan resistant pallor. It was not altered to any great extent by the neatly trimmed black moustache it now sported. However, gone was his low crowned, broad brimmed J.B. Stetson hat. It was replaced by a brown bowler with a curly brim and high, bowl-shaped crown. His single-breasted brown morning coat, with a narrow collar and short lapels had braided edges to its skirts and was fastened with four buttons. The vest—waistcoat—was cut straight, the white shirt’s collar was high and worn with a dark blue necktie. His trousers were close fitting and the legs narrow at the bottoms. Only his Hessian-leg, xiii high heeled, sharp toed, tan colored boots remained of his range garb—and no amount of city dwelling could make him discard them—although they no longer carried their Kelly ‘Pet-Maker’ spurs. Probably the most noticeable difference which would have attracted his companions’ attention was his lack of armament. His slim, boneless looking hands could draw and shoot a Colt Civilian Model Peacemaker revolver like lightning and with commendable accur
acy.
"You wouldn’t want to stay on, now would you, Doc?’ Lynn inquired, employing her husband’s commonly used nickname. Her expression changed and she lost some of the bantering tone from her voice.
"Can’t say’s I would,’ the Texan admitted, turning a puzzled gaze on his wife. ‘What’s brought this up, gal?’
"You know’s I’d had lunch with Mrs. Dumoulin before I met you?’
"Sure. You wasn’t too happy about it this morning.’
‘Shucks, it wasn’t as bad as I expected,’ Lynn stated. ‘She’s a right nice lady when you get to know her. Anyways, she said her husband was talking about you—’
‘It’s none of it true,’ Doc grinned.
‘Likely,’ Lynn answered, but the worried timbre did not leave her speech. ‘Seeing as how he allowed, being older than most of them, you’re a damned sight better—’
‘Did Mrs. Dumoulin say that?” Doc challenged, squeezing his wife’s arm gently.
‘Not in so many words,’ Lynn admitted. ‘Anyways, as I was saying before you homed in, seeing’s you’re a whole heap better at doctoring than any of them, he might ask you to stay on as his intern—or whatever it’s called—after you qualify.’
Although nothing showed on the Texan’s face, he was impressed by what he had heard. Being twenty-eight years of age on his last birthday, he was certainly older than any of his fellow students at the Soniat Memorial-Mercy Hospital, where he had recently enrolled to complete his medical studies and, hopefully, qualify as a doctor. In spite of the short time he had been attending the Hospital’s medical college, he had a vast amount more practical experience than most of the students. His knowledge on certain matters even exceeded that of some who were awaiting a chance to try for qualification.
All Doc’s formative years had been spent in the presence of medical and surgical affairs. His father, Eldridge Jason Leroy, M.D., had been a doctor residing in Lampasas, Texas. As the only qualified practitioner in well over five hundred square miles, Doctor Leroy could not afford the luxury of specializing in one particular field. He needed an equal skill in setting broken bones, supplying cures for various ailments, coping with wounds inflicted by a variety of weapons, handling births and performing surgical operations. In spite of that, being a dedicated and enlightened man, he had done all he could to keep abreast of the latest techniques and developments.
From an early age, the doctor had encouraged his son’s interest in the healing arts. Young Doc, as he was soon known locally, had been eager to learn. He was taught anatomy by watching and being allowed to carry out dissections. Then he was instructed in how to diagnose and treat illnesses, detect and repair fractures, and compound medicinal potions. He had gathered much knowledge and retained it with a degree of capability that had augured well for the future.
At the same time, growing up in an area devoted exclusively to the cattle business, Doc had found time—his father being a firm believer that ‘all work and no play made Jack a dull boy’—to acquire many of the cowhands’ skills. One in particular, the ability he gained as a horseman, would be of great use to him in his chosen field of endeavor. It provided the quickest way to travel the great distances involved when making house calls on the open ranges where he would find the majority of his patients. So his father had been pleased to see him become an accomplished rider.
When circumstances had forced Doc to become a cowhand, almost the only means of making an honest living in Texas during the impoverished years following the War Between the States, he had contrived to keep up his studies.
And more!
Working as a member of Stone Hart’s crew of contract trail herders, on ranches and, later, serving with the Arizona Rangers, xiv Doc had frequently been required to turn his knowledge to practical use. His skill had firmly saddled him with the sobriquet by which even his wife invariably referred to him. There were men, women and children who would have been dead, or unborn, without his assistance.
Sometimes, with the passing of the years, Doc had become almost resigned to the thought that he would never achieve his ambition to follow in his father’s footsteps. However, after the events at the town of Two Forks had culminated in his marriage to Lynn, xv the opportunity was at last presented to him and in a way which he would have found very difficult to refuse.
As a wedding present from a former employer, Doc had received an offer of enrolment at the Medical College of the Soniat Memorial-Mercy Hospital in New Orleans. On hearing this, Ella Baker—his charming, beautiful, but exceptionally forceful-natured mother-in-law—had exerted her persuasive powers, not that they had been entirely necessary, towards convincing him that only good could come from accepting the offer. In addition, without causing embarrassment or resentment, she had helped to remove any financial barriers which might have accrued, and had assuaged Lynn’s understandable concern over the prospect of being compelled to live for an indefinite period in a large city.
On his arrival, Doc had been informed by the Dean of the Medical College that he could commence his education at the point to which his knowledge entitled him. This meant that because of his learning and experience, he was already almost capable of sitting for the final qualifying examinations. Doc had a strong suspicion that General Jackson Baines ‘Ole Devil’ Hardin, xvi notwithstanding the fact that he was confined to a wheelchair since being crippled in a riding accident, xvii had applied his considerable influence upon the normally stuffy and conservative Doctor Alphonse Jules Dumoulin and had helped bring about such a concession.
Since coming to New Orleans, Doc had been concerned over the life he was causing Lynn to lead. Her formative years had been spent on a small ranch in Wyoming. Following the separation of her parents, when she had remained in her father’s custody, her upbringing had been closer to that of a boy than a girl. Many of her friends at that period had been prominent members of the outlaw fraternity, and from them she had received an unconventional—yet under the circumstances, eminently practical education. Even after her father’s death when she had gone to live with her mother, she had known only the environment of a small Western town. However, Ella had contrived to instill in her the acceptable social graces. Although she had objected at the time, she was finding them to be of great benefit at present.
Because of Doc’s studies, Lynn was compelled to spend much of the day without his company. However, once again, one of their friends had come to their aid. Envisaging the situation, Captain Dustine Edward Marsden ‘Dusty’ Fog xviii had given them a letter of introduction to the New Orleans Police Department’s recently appointed Captain of Detectives. Phillipe St. Andre, who was known as ‘Sherry’ to his friends, xix and his wife had made the young couple welcome. Nor had their kindness merely been due to St. Andre owing his promotion, at least partly, to information received from the Rio Hondo gun wizard. xx
Taking Lynn under her wing and to her heart, Alice St. Andre had kept her from growing lonely or bored. In addition to showing her the sights and introducing her to friends, Alice had also steered her clear of the social pitfalls which might otherwise have happened to ruin her stay. By way of repayment, using lessons acquired from professional gamblers with whom she was acquainted, Lynn had exposed a couple of female card sharps who had been taking large sums of money from wealthy ladies—and some who could ill afford the losses—by cheating at whist.
‘A man could do a whole heap worse than that, gal,’ Doc remarked and felt his wife’s bicep tense under his hand. ‘Doctor Dumoulin’s well thought of in medical circles all through the country.’
‘I’m not gainsaying it,’ Lynn admitted quietly.
‘Being his intern wouldn’t pay as much as I could likely make back home in Two Forks,’ Doc went on. ‘Nor would any other post in the hospital for a fair spell to come. Against that, if anything new is learned, it’ll be heard about sooner at the hospital.’
‘I’ll stay here if you want to,’ Lynn stated and tried to sound more enthusiastic as she went on, ‘Shucks, I mi
ght even get to like it.’
Before the conversation could be taken any further, the couple reached the open double doors of the bank. Walking through, they found themselves to be the only customers. Behind the grills, the tellers were totaling up their cash. The bank guard, a burly man in a blue uniform who carried a Colt Cavalry Peacemaker in a closed topped holster from which, Doc decided, he would be able to draw it in some^ thing less than a minute—but not much—if the need to do so rapidly should arise, looked pointedly at the clock on the wall.
‘You reckon he’s trying to tell us it’s just about time for them to close for the day?’ Lynn inquired, temporarily putting aside the matter that was uppermost in her mind, as her husband removed his hand from her arm.
‘Could be,’ Doc admitted and reached into his jacket. Then he gave an annoyed grunt. ‘Blast it! I’ve not made out a withdrawal draft. How much will you want, honey?”
‘Nothing,’ Lynn replied, following her husband to a writing table against the left side wall. ‘I’m putting some in, not taking it out’
‘Huh?’ Doc ejaculated.
‘Why sure, that’s why I sent word for you to meet me and come here,’ Lynn grinned. ‘Seems like all those ladies were sort of grateful to me for catching out those two female card sharps. Especially as Sherry found they’d still got most all of the money and the notes-of-hand they’d taken and would’ve been turning in for payment.’
‘Go on, blast you!’ Doc commanded, when his wife stopped and looked at him provocatively. ‘What happened?’
‘I thought you’d never ask. Well, it seems like they got to thinking, you being a medical student and all, that we likely aren’t busting at the seams with money right now. So they’d collected five hundred simoleons as a reward.’
‘And you took it?’ Doc asked, swinging his gaze around.