Waco 6

by J. T. Edson

  Sharing his father’s guilty conscience over the deaths of Doc’s parents, he had misread the other’s motives in hurling Japhet away. Attributing the action as being provoked by a desire to take vengeance, the protective feelings he had where his youngest brother was concerned drove every rational thought from his head.

  ‘I said get over here!’ Frank snarled and the Colt trembled in his grasp with the rage that filled him. ‘Do it, or I’ll kill you where you stand.’

  ‘Kill me and you’ve killed him too, most likely,’ Doc answered, once again mastering his emotions and appreciating the deadly peril facing not only himself but his companions. ‘So, happen you’re that way inclined, go ahead.’

  ‘Maybe you’d rather see one of your amigos shot?’ suggested a hired gun.

  ‘You’re making a damned fool mistake, Frank!’ Damon warned.

  ‘Like hell I am!’ Maudlin snarled. ‘If he’s killed Japhet, or the kid dies because of this, I’ll kill him!’

  ‘Have him taken inside,’ Doc ordered. ‘I’ll look him over when I’ve seen the rest of your woun—’

  ‘You’ll see to him right now!’ Frank raged, his hot temper close to breaking point.

  ‘Best do it, amigo,’ Rusty advised. ‘Mrs. Maudlin and Miss Beth saw to the fellers and they won’t take no hurt for a while longer.’

  Already Doc’s instincts were suggesting that he should at least examine Japhet. He had heard the sickening crunch with which the other’s head had met the porch’s sturdy supporting rail and knew all too well how serious such a collision could be. In addition, he knew that he could not press Frank’s patience much further. With his nerves stretched almost to breaking point, the young man might do something for which he would be sorry later. Furthermore, if he pulled the Colt’s trigger, the hired guns would not be willing to allow two witnesses—Rusty and Damon—to the cold blooded killing to live and tell about it.

  ‘All right,’ Doc said quietly. ‘I’ll see to him.’

  ‘Shed that gunbelt first!’ Frank commanded.

  ‘That goes for you pair’s well!’ supplemented the man who had taken Lindrick’s place as boss gun.

  Knowing that to refuse would avail them nothing, Doc, Rusty and Damon obeyed. Having unbuckled and hung his gunbelt over the saddlehorn, Doc liberated his father’s medical bag. Ignoring the hostile way in which Frank and the hired guns were regarding him, he crossed to the porch. Only a brief examination was needed to warn him that very skilled attention was required. Every symptom served to confirm what he had suspected.

  ‘His skull’s fractured,’ Doc announced, straightening up. ‘I can’t do anything—’

  ‘Can’t, or won’t?’ Frank spat out.

  ‘Can’t,’ Doc repeated. ‘It’s like that time one of your hands was kicked in the head by his horse—’

  ‘You helped your daddy to save him!’ Frank pointed out.

  ‘Yes, but—,’ Doc began.

  ‘There’s no son-of-a-bitching “but” about it!’ Frank ejaculated, remembering all the stories he had heard about the youngster’s knowledge and ability in performing medical and surgical tasks. ‘You can do the same for Japhet.’

  ‘Don’t be loco!’ Doc shouted back, having to fight to hold his temper in check. ‘I haven’t the gear—’

  ‘Then we’ll have it fetched for you!’ Frank interrupted. ‘By the time it gets here, it’ll be too late,’ Doc objected, forcing himself to think.

  ‘Then, by God, I’ll kill you to be even for him!’ Frank threatened.

  Already Doc’s instinct to heal was overriding his resentment of such treatment and driving him to consider how he might save Japhet’s life. However, Frank’s words gave him an added inducement. In his present frame of mind, the rancher’s son would not hesitate to carry out the threat. Not only would he kill Doc, but the same fate would descend upon Rusty and Damon as soon as it happened.

  From his training, the youngster knew that there was only one way to prevent the injury from killing Japhet. Unless the pressure caused to the brain by the fractured skull was relieved, he would die.

  Doc knew what to do. Not only had he helped his father to treat the cowhand suffering from a similar injury, he had successfully carried out trephining operations on animals and upon the skull of a human skeleton the doctor had purchased from a medical supply house in the East.

  The only problem was that, although he had everything else he would need in his father’s medical bag to perform the operation, Doc had not thought to include the cylindrical trephine saw with which to cut away the fragment of bone.

  Three lives, apart from Japhet’s, hung in the balance because of the omission!

  There was no way—

  ‘Quick!’ Doc snapped, thoughts churning through his head. ‘Go and fetch me a thimble from your momma’s sewing basket and—’

  ‘A thimble?’ Frank gasped, his revolver wavering for a moment. Then anger creased his face and he went on, ‘If this’s a—’

  ‘It’s your brother’s life that’s at stake, god damn it!’ Doc blazed. ‘Get me the thimble, a feather duster Or something with a handle like it and a shingle nail.’

  ‘A-A-A—?’ Frank gobbled, staring as if unable to believe his ears.

  ‘A new nail, not one that’s rusted!’ Doc continued. ‘Move it, blast you. There’s little enough time as it is.’

  ‘Come on!’ Rusty Willis yelled, striding forward without a thought for the risk he was taking. Nor did he know what his amigo had in mind, but was willing to give all his support to it. ‘I’ll help you fetch ’em, Frank.’

  ‘Best make it two of each, it’ll save time if a second’s needed,’ Doc corrected as the pair passed him on their way to the front door. ‘And I’d like them afore fall.’

  ‘Yo!’ Rusty responded, disappearing into the building.

  ‘Don’t you try any tricks!’ Frank warned, pausing on the threshold.

  ‘Four of you come and help me take Japhet indoors,’ Doc barked at the onlookers, ignoring the comment. ‘You’d best be one of them, Dirk. I want at least one of the carriers to have the sense of a seam-squirrel.’

  Under the urging of the vitriolic-tongued youngster, Damon obtained the requisite assistants to lift and carry the unconscious Japhet into the house. Having been there as a guest in happier times, Doc knew where he would find the best location for the work that lay ahead. There was a momentary hesitation on the part of the hired guns when they heard where they were to go. However, Damon brought it to an end. Taking their burden into the sitting-room, they waited until the youngster had cleared the table and covered it with sheets of clean newspaper, then laid Japhet on it.

  ‘Here’re the thimbles and dusters, Doc!’ Rusty announced, running in with the objects. ‘Frank’s going to the barn for the shingle nails.’

  ‘Go with him, Dirk,’ Doc requested, although the words were closer to a command. ‘Take the thimbles and dusters. Work on one set at a time. First off, cut some real sharp little teeth around the rim of the thimble. Fasten it on to the end of the duster’s handle here, then cut off and make a sharp point on the nail so it just shows beyond the thimble’s rim.’

  ‘Whatever you say,’ Damon promised, after a few seconds while he was committing the instructions to his memory.

  ‘Hey, Hambone!’ Doc said, seeing the ranch’s cook in the doorway. ‘Come in here and lend me a hand. The rest of you get the hell outside and keep quiet.’

  ‘Don’t you pull anything,’ growled the new boss gun. ‘We’re keeping your amigo where it’ll—’

  ‘Do what the hell you’ve a mind!’ Doc snarled. ‘Only do it well clear of this blasted room.’ Turning his back on the man, he looked at the cook and went on, ‘I’ll want him stripped to the waist and the part of his head I’ll be working on shaved.’

  ‘Sure, young feller,’ Hambone answered, then directed a baleful glare at the onlookers. ‘You heard him. Get the hell away from here.’

  ‘You stay with us!’ the new bos
s gun ordered Rusty.

  ‘Sure,’ the youngster replied, oozing disdain.

  ‘And, happen you’re scared, I’ll hold your itty-bitty hand.’

  ‘Hombre!’ Doc barked, looking up as the boss gun let out an obscene oath. ‘Happen anything comes off to Rusty, you’ll not be helping Japhet’s chances.’

  Waiting with small patience until he and the cook had been left by the other men, Doc set to work. They did not waste time in talking. For all that, they had only just completed the preparations when Damon returned. Looking worried, puzzled and suspicious, Frank followed.

  ‘I hope this is all right,’ the sheriff said, handing over the device he had manufactured.

  ‘It looks as if it might be,’ Doc answered, examining the extemporized trephine saw. The head of the duster had been removed and he tested the security of the thimble attached to the end of the handle. Satisfied on that score, he checked the teeth which had been cut around the rim and the amount the point of the nail was protruding. ‘It’ll do fine.’

  ‘I’ve got Daybreak making the other one,’ Damon replied. ‘Have him finish it and make sure everything’s as good as this,’ Doc requested.

  ‘Are you saying you’re going to use that thing on Japhet?’ Frank demanded.

  ‘I didn’t have it made to hook the shit out of my arse,’ Doc answered.

  ‘God damn it!’ Frank almost bellowed. ‘If this’s a trick—’

  ‘I know,’ Doc sighed. ‘You’ll kill me. Happen you’re set on doing it, go ahead. Only, like I told you before, kill me and you’ve killed Japhet as well.’

  ‘All right!’ Frank hissed. ‘Do what you’re fixing to. But you’ve got my word that I meant it when I said I’ll kill you if he doesn’t pull through.’

  ‘You ain’t helping keep him alive none, Frank-boy,’ put in the cook, an old retainer who had privileges that would not have been accorded to anybody else. ‘And I don’t take it kind, nor friendly, happen you reckon’s I’d let young Leroy do whatever he’s fixing to happen I wasn’t certain sure it’d be for the best.’

  ‘Come on, Frank,’ Damon supplemented. ‘Let’s leave them to their work. Neither Rusty nor I’ll make fuss for you while they’re doing it.’

  ‘What now, young feller?’ Hambone asked, watching the two men take their departure.

  ‘I’m going to what they call “sterilize” this contraption in that stuff I’ve got boiling on the hob,’ Doc explained, indicating a steaming saucepan resting on the projecting ledge which was fitted at the side of the fireplace to keep such utensils warm. In it was a solution of bicholoride of mercury that he had taken from the medical bag without allowing the cook an opportunity to see the other contents. ‘Then we’ll see if I can save Japhet’s life.’

  ‘I hope you can,’ Hambone declared soberly. ‘I’ve never seen Frank so all-fired mean, ornery and hawg-wild. Happen young Japhet here cashes in, he’s just riled enough to do what he says.’

  Completing the sterilization of his implements, his father having been an early convert to such a vitally important precaution, Doc returned to the table. Much to his relief, he could see no sign of his patient recovering consciousness. Using the tip of the nail to center the home-made instrument on the section of the skull which he had to incise, he commenced the trephining operation.

  Taylor Maudlin, his wife and sister returned before Doc had completed his task, but he paid them not the slightest attention. Nor, seeing how far he had progressed, did they offer to interfere.

  An hour had gone by. During it, Damon and Rusty had never been allowed out of the hired guns’ sight. Nor, as the sheriff had promised, did they offer to cause any disturbance. They were, however, relieved when the rancher’s party arrived. For all that, the vigilance continued.

  At last, the front door opened.

  Carrying his father’s medical bag, Doc walked out of the house and came to a stop on the porch. Silence fell over the grim-faced crowd who were hovering in front of the building and guarding the two hostages. They realized that the operation had come to an end and waited to be told its result

  ‘I’ve taken out the piece of bone and relieved the pressure on his brain like I promised,’ the pallid-faced youngster informed them. ‘Now Rusty, Dirk Damon and I are going back to Lampasas.’

  ‘Give them their guns and let them go,’ Maudlin authorized, from the doorway. ‘He’s done what he promised and Japhet’s going to live.’

  ‘By god, amigo, you’re the cool one!’ Rusty breathed, as they went towards their waiting horses. ‘Or did you reckon Frank was only making wind-talk when he said he’d kill you if Japhet died?’

  ‘I knew he meant it,’ Doc declared.

  ‘Didn’t that worry you?’ Damon asked.

  ‘Not over much,’ Doc said quietly, lifting the medical bag in his right hand and which had been close to him all the time he was operating. ‘My daddy always kept a loaded and capped Army Colt in here. It’s still inside—and, if Japhet had been dying, I’d have known before anybody else.’

  Part Three – Doc’s Dilemma

  Sixteen – Ole Devil’s Dead

  ‘Japhet Maudlin recovered, but I could have saved my time, he was killed a year later while he was trying to hooraw Abilene,’ Doc Leroy told Doctor Alphonse Jules Dumoulin. ‘Rusty Willis and Joe Brambile went with me when I took out after Lindrick and the other two hired guns. We trailed them down towards Trinity, but a few miles out of town, we came across a share-cropper’s place and his wife was in labor. Not the easy way, either. When I examined her, I could see that she’d need a Caesarean lviii and damned near straight away if it was going to be any use. There wouldn’t be time to fetch out a doctor. So Joe and Rusty rode on while I stopped to do it. They ran across Len Shabber and Hank Waltham and when the smoke cleared, had made wolf-bait out of them. Trouble was, they died without talking and Lindrick wasn’t with them. I never did find out where he’d gone, nor hear anything of him until I took his brace of fancy Colt Pocket Pistols from that yahoo in the bank.’

  ‘I see,’ the dean of the Soniat Memorial-Mercy Hospital’s Medical College said quietly. ‘And what happened to the share-cropper’s wife?’

  ‘She had a right smart little son, ten—well, eight anyways—pounds,’ Doc replied.

  ‘I always say the first baby I delivered weighed twelve pounds,’ Dumoulin stated with a frosty smile. ‘But I suspect it was closer to—er—nine.’

  ‘At the least nine, sir,’ Doc grinned.

  ‘Thank you. Is searching for Lindrick why you didn’t come and commence your education?’

  ‘Not all the way, sir. Joe made me give up the hunt after about six months. When I got back home, I learned that daddy had been a heap better doctor than a businessman. He’d left a whole stack of debts, mostly to folks who needed the money. So I stayed on, went to work for Stone Hart’s Wedge trail crew with Rusty and earned enough to pay everybody off. Time I’d done it, well there was first one thing and then another. So I never got around to coming.’

  ‘But you obviously kept up your studies,’ Dumoulin declared.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Doc agreed. ‘I bought and read everything I could lay my hands on, talked to and worked with doctors all I could. There were times when knowing about medicine, or surgery, came in real handy.’

  ‘Tell me about them,’ the Dean requested.

  Knowing his future career was in the balance, Doc concluded it was no time for false modesty. So he gave Dumoulin examples of how he had made use of his knowledge by treating illnesses and coping with the accidents or other mishaps which had occurred during the years since the death of his parents. He mentioned how he had removed a bullet to save Waco’s life, lix described the part he had played in controlling an outbreak of typhoid in Canvastown, lx Arizona and the way he had coped with the delivery of twins to the wife of a now famous entertainer, lxi among other things. He also brought a brief smile to the Dean’s face when mentioning a comment made by an Irish cavalry sergeant who had heard him tal
king about the need for a doctor to understand Latin.

  ‘Sure and I don’t see what’s the need,’ the gallant Sergeant Magoon had declared. ‘You’re never likely to meet one of them Latins to need to speak it to.’ lxii

  ‘I understand that you helped Doctor Bieler carry out an appendectomy a few days ago,’ Dumoulin remarked, at the end of the young man’s recital. ‘He was most impressed by your knowledge.’

  ‘It wasn’t the first excision of the vermiform appendix I’d come across, sir,’ Doc replied.

  ‘You’d witnessed a similar operation?’ Dumoulin asked, for in the early 1880s, the appendectomy was far from the comparatively simple operation it would eventually become with the aid of improved equipment, drugs and techniques.

  ‘Not so much “witnessed” as done, sir,’ Doc corrected and told how he had been compelled to operate when one of the Wedge cowhands had burst his appendix during a trail drive far from any hope of qualified assistance. ‘Only it’s not true I cut it out with a bowie knife, which I’ve heard tell the boys claim. I used my daddy’s instruments.’

  ‘Which doesn’t lessen your achievement, young man,’ the Dean declared, then his gaze went to the two newspapers on the desk. ‘However, we have something else to consider. I can understand now why you felt you had to find and question the man with Lindrick’s revolvers. But that won’t have any weight where the Intelligencer is concerned. Rather the opposite, in fact. They’ll want to know by whose authority you were allowed to conduct a personal vendetta—which is how they’ll chose to regard it—under the protection of the New Orleans’ Police Department.’

  ‘I reckon they will, sir,’ Doc admitted, being aware of the virulence shown by ‘liberal’ newspapers such as the New Orleans Intelligencer where the forces of law and order were concerned. ‘They’ll likely try to rub cow dung on the College and Hospital as well if it will help them to get at me.’