by Al Lacy
Bobby nodded as she placed it under his tongue.
Tharyn looked at the worried parents as she held a palm on the boy’s forehead. “While I’m waiting for his temperature to register, let me explain that a person experiencing an attack of appendicitis feels abdominal pain and tenderness, particularly around the navel and the right lower region of the abdomen, exactly as Bobby is feeling it. They also experience nausea, usually vomit, and sometimes have diarrhea. Other than the latter, Bobby has these exact symptoms.”
Tharyn saw fear etched in the faces of the parents.
“Let me explain something else. I’ll know if the appendix has already burst as soon as I get a reading on the thermometer. If it has, his fever will be over a hundred degrees.”
Susan’s heart literally squeezed with pain and her hands went to her mouth.
Fear heaved through Scott’s stomach. “M-Mrs. Logan, if the appendix has already burst, B-Bobby will die, won’t he?”
Tharyn’s lips pulled into a pencil-thin line. “Most likely, sir. But let’s see what his temperature is. He doesn’t feel that hot to the touch. We’ll know in another minute. I—I really don’t think it’s that high.”
Scott took hold of Susan’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “She should know, honey. I imagine she has taken thousands of temperatures.”
Susan squeezed back, her heart racing.
When the time was up, Tharyn took the thermometer from Bobby’s mouth, studied it, and said with a sigh, “It’s all right. His fever is nominal. The appendix hasn’t burst. I’ll have to remove it quickly. Do I have your permission?”
“Yes!” the relieved parents said simultaneously.
“All right,” said Tharyn, heading for a nearby medicine cabinet.
While the parents laid hands on their son and watched the nurse, she took out a bottle of chloroform, lifted a soft cloth from a drawer, and hurried back to the table. The boy was squirming in agony. “Bobby, I have to put this chloroform on the cloth and place it over your nose and mouth. It will put you to sleep so you won’t feel any pain while I operate on you. Just hold as still as you can and breathe it in, okay?”
Bobby swallowed hard. “Y-yes, ma’am.”
Tharyn set steady eyes on Susan as she poured the liquid onto the cloth, then placed it carefully over the boy’s nose and mouth. “Mrs. Thomas, will you hold the cloth for me, please?”
Susan nodded and placed her hand on the cloth after Tharyn had let go of it.
Quickly, Tharyn went to a nearby counter and scrubbed her hands in strong lye soap. She dried them on a clean towel, then took a needle, thread, and a scalpel from a drawer in the medicine cabinet. She placed them on a sterilized cloth in a tray, then approached the table and laid the tray on the cart.
She took a moment to thread the needle and cinch the tiny knot, then leaned over Bobby, whose squirming was easing some. What she could see of his face told her he was getting paler by the second.
“Mrs. Thomas, ordinarily it is best that the parents of a child undergoing surgery not be in the operating room, but I need you to stay and help with the chloroform. The cloth must remain in place, even after Bobby is under, and more chloroform will have to be added.”
Worry over Bobby’s condition was a constant tugging at Susan’s insides. She licked her lips. “Yes, of course.”
“Thank you. I will let you know when to add more chloroform to the cloth.”
Susan nodded and looked back down at her son.
Tharyn turned to the father. “Mr. Thomas, I need you to go out and wait in the office. There will be patients coming in who have appointments and probably others who don’t. Will you explain the situation to them and tell them I will get to them as soon as possible?”
Scott looked worriedly at his son, then at Tharyn. “Yes, ma’am.” Even as he spoke, he moved quickly toward the door. When he opened it, he looked back at Susan, then was gone.
Tharyn bared the boy’s abdomen and used wood alcohol to clean the area where she was going to make the incision. By the time this was done, Bobby was no longer squirming, and his eyes were closed. She raised his eyelids and noted the condition of the pupils. “He’s under now, Mrs. Thomas. Be ready to add more chloroform to the cloth when I tell you.”
Susan nodded, biting her lips.
Tharyn picked up the scalpel from the tray and took a deep breath. The muscles across her shoulders were tightening, and she was aware that her hands were trembling slightly. Mr. Thomas was quite right, she thought. It is a world of difference when you alone wield the scalpel and are the one responsible for the patient’s life.
Trying to control her shaking hands, she told herself that her heavenly Father, the greatest of all physicians, was right there with her, and a calmness came over her. She closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, please guide my hand and help me to do this exactly right.”
When Tharyn opened her eyes, she saw a smile on Susan’s face, in spite of her concern for her son. “Ready, Mrs. Thomas?”
“I … I guess so.” Susan took a deep breath, looked down at Bobby, then back at Tharyn. “Yes, of course, I’m ready. My boy needs me, and I’m here to do my job with the chloroform.”
Tharyn let a thin smile curve her lips. “Good. With Gods help, let’s make this precious boy well again.”
Having said thus, she lowered a now-steady hand and placed the sharp tip of the scalpel against the boy’s flesh. As she drew it slowly and carefully across his abdomen, her mind was focused completely on the task before her.
Dr. Dane Logan and rancher Rex Wilson galloped their horses through the gate of the Diamond B Ranch and headed down the tree-lined lane toward the house, barn, and outbuildings.
Moments later, they pulled the horses to a halt at the front porch, tied them to the hitching posts, and hurried into the house.
Dora Wilson was in a back bedroom, and hearing the two men enter the house, she stepped into the hall and watched them hurry toward her.
As they drew up, Dora said, “He’s still alive.”
“Good!” exclaimed Rex. “Honey, this is Dr. Dane Logan. Dr. Logan, this is my wife, Dora.”
Dora and the doctor exchanged greetings; then Rex asked, “Honey, has Jack regained consciousness yet?”
“No. He’s shown no sign of waking up so far.”
With that, Dora pivoted and preceded the men into the bedroom where rancher Jack Bates lay on the bed.
Dr. Dane asked, “Where are the bodies of Mrs. Bates and the children?”
“I laid them in the toolshed out back. When Jack regains consciousness, I’ll offer to take care of the funeral arrangements with the undertaker in the nearby town of Lawson.”
Dr. Dane removed his hat, laid it on the dresser, and stepped up beside the bed. Rex and Dora were standing on the opposite side of the bed. The doctor opened his medical bag, took out a bottle of chloroform and a piece of soft, white cloth. He opened the bottle, poured the liquid into the cloth, and placed it over the lower part of Jack Bates’s face. “I’ve got to make sure he doesn’t come to while I’m removing the slug. Mrs. Wilson, would you hold this cloth over his nose and mouth for me?”
“Of course.” She laid her hand over the cloth.
Dr. Dane took a bottle of lye soap from his medical bag and turned to Rex. “Do you know where the washroom is?”
Rex nodded. “Yes.”
“I need to wash my hands before I go after that slug.”
“Washroom is just across the hall. Come on.”
Less than five minutes had passed when the men returned and Dr. Dane reached into his medical bag once more. He took out a bottle of wood alcohol and a special pair of steel forceps designed to remove bullets from human bodies. He opened the bottle and doused the forceps with the alcohol.
While Dora held the wet cloth over the wounded man’s nose and mouth, the doctor worked on the bleeding bullet wound, which was in his upper chest on the right side.
Rex stood close to Dora, looking on as Dr. Dane
carefully removed the bullet that had come from a Ute rifle, and laid it in Rex’s hand. “Would you get rid of this for me?”
Rex looked at the bloody slug in his hand and licked his lips nervously. “Y-yeah. Be back in a minute.” He hurried out the bedroom door and ran up the hall.
By this time, the patient began to move a bit.
Dr. Dane looked at Dora. “Pour some more chloroform on the cloth.”
She nodded, and Dr. Dane began cleaning the wound. Dora placed the wet cloth back over the patient’s nose and mouth, and soon the doctor was suturing up the wound.
Rex returned quietly and moved back up beside his wife.
When Dr. Dane finished bandaging the wound, he sighed and looked at Dora. “Okay. All done. You can remove the cloth now. Jack will probably be under the influence of the chloroform for a couple of hours before he is really awake.”
Rex let out a sigh. “So he will live, Doctor?”
“Oh yes. But if the slug had been three inches lower, and about that same distance closer to the center of his chest, it would have killed him.” He looked at Dora. “Or if you hadn’t done such a good job keeping the blood flow from the wound to a minimum while you were waiting for your husband to ride to town and bring me back with him, Jack would have died.”
Dora smiled. “I’m just glad I could be of help.” She ran her gaze between the men. “I’m sure we could all use a hot cup of coffee. Wanda always kept coffee on hand. How about if I go to the kitchen, light a fire in the stove, and heat up some coffee?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Rex. “How about you, Doctor?”
“Sure. I want to go over this Indian problem with you before I go, anyway. You no doubt know a lot more about it than I do.”
“Okay. Go on, sweetheart. We’ll talk about the Indians while you make us some coffee.”
“All right,” said Dora. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
Dr. Dane took a look at his patient, making sure he was resting comfortably; then both men sat down on wooden chairs next to the bed.
The doctor set steady eyes on Rex. “So you’re sure those were Utes, and not some other tribe who shot this family down and took their cattle?”
“Yep. Everyone in these parts knows a Ute warrior when we see one. There are some Arapahoes farther south and east of here, but the Arapahoes and Utes dress differently. They’re easy to tell apart.”
“I see. Well, what I wanted to discuss with you are the treaties that I’ve heard about. It has been my understanding that both the Utes and the Arapahoes were supposed to be at peace with the whites here in Colorado.”
Rex pulled at an earlobe. “Basically they are, Doctor, but there are some renegades in both tribes who have not really submitted to the treaties signed by their tribal leaders.”
“Really?”
“Mm-hmm. It is these renegades who are stealing stock from ranchers and often killing them in the process, and who are attacking wagon trains, stagecoaches, and other travelers. Most of this theft and violence is taking place in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, especially by the Utes.”
Dr. Dane glanced at his patient, then looked back to Rex. “How long has this treaty breaking been going on?”
“Well, back in 1863, when the Utes lived on the east side of the Rockies, they often fought whites side by side with the Arapahoes.”
“So they are comrades, I take it.”
“You might say that. Anyway, early in 1863, President Abraham Lincoln became concerned about the battles going on out here in Colorado between the whites and the Indians, especially the Utes, who were by far the fiercest. The army was building forts as fast as they could and establishing military outposts, but still, much blood of the white people was being shed. President Lincoln authorized some federal officials to come here immediately and see if they could make peace with the Utes. He felt if peace could be made with the Utes, the Arapahoes would settle down too. Those appointed officials of the United States government called for a council with the Ute leaders to convince them to move their villages west of the Continental Divide.”
Dr. Dane snapped his fingers. “Oh yes. That’s when they met with the Uncompahgre Ute chief, Ouray. I recall reading about it, now that you bring it up.”
“That’s it. Chief Ouray was chosen by nearly all the Ute leaders to be their spokesman.”
“He’s a peaceable man, from what I recall.”
“Yes. He saw the picture and realized that white people were moving out West by the thousands and bringing their military with them. He was wise enough to know that the Indians were quickly being outnumbered, and that to make war with them would also get a lot of Indians killed.”
“So how did the council with Chief Ouray go?”
“Well, it actually took five years for Ouray to convince the bulk of his Ute brothers to go along with the government officials, but in 1868, the Utes agreed to move to the west side of the Continental Divide, providing that all of Colorado Territory west of the Divide—mountains and flat land—was reserved for them.”
Dr. Dane’s eyebrows arched. “Hmm. That’s a lot of territory.”
“Yep. But in order to stop the bloodshed in Colorado, the government officials under President Andrew Johnson’s authority agreed, and a treaty was made. However, the treaty was broken by the whites shortly thereafter when gold was discovered in the San Juan Mountains. You know where they are, I presume.”
“Yes, in southwest Colorado.”
“Right. The white men who discovered the gold weren’t supposed to be in the San Juans, nor west of the Divide in Colorado, anyway. But some of them hurried back to their families and friends to let them know of their gold strike, and this brought more greedy miners flooding into the area.”
Dr. Dane shook his head. “So they didn’t care if they broke the treaty with Chief Ouray and his people.”
“Not at all. They wanted the gold bad enough to chance being attacked by the Utes. They ignored the treaty.”
“And I’m sure the Utes attacked.”
“They sure did. There was a fierce onslaught by the Utes. The army had to come in and fight off the Indians to protect the miners. This brought more bloodshed.”
“I can well imagine.”
“As you said, Doctor, Ouray is a peaceful man. Still wanting peace, in 1877 he asked to meet with the government officials again. President Rutherford B. Hayes agreed and there was another meeting. The government officials came to an agreement that the Utes could maintain their land in western Colorado except for the San Juan Mountains. This infuriated some of the Ute chiefs, and though Chief Ouray pled with them to stay at peace with the whites, a few of them still wanted to shed blood. They still feel that way today and are regarded by the bulk of the Utes as renegades. They are the ones who still attack white travelers and steal stock from ranchers here in the mountains and from farmers on the western side of the state. So often in stealing, there are gun battles, and both white men and Indians are wounded or killed.”
Dr. Dane shook his head. “Too bad this has to go on.”
“Mm-hmm. When Chief Ouray signed the latest treaty, he was also influential in getting most of the Arapaho leaders to sign a treaty, too. However, there are still renegades in both tribes. The Ute renegades are found mostly among the Weminuche Ute tribe, who call themselves the Ute Mountain Tribe. The most adamant chief among the Ute Mountain Tribe is Tando, who has a large village in the mountains some twenty miles southwest of Central City.”
Dr. Dane looked surprised. “That close?”
“Mm-hmm. Chief Tando has been known sometimes to send some of his subchiefs east to communicate with the Arapaho chiefs who have not gone along with the treaties their tribal spokesmen have made with the government.”
“I see. So Tando keeps company with the renegade Arapaho chiefs to maintain comradeship with them.”
“That’s it.”
Dr. Dane looked at his patient again. Jack was moving his body a little, but was still under
the anesthetic. He set his gaze on Rex once more. “You told me as we rode here that you thought Jack might have shot one of the Indians who were stealing his cattle.”
“Yes. I saw fresh blood on the ground near the gate where the Indians were driving the cattle out of the corral. Must have just wounded him, though, because Dora and I saw the bunch of them as they were driving the cattle away, and every Indian horse had a rider.”
“How many were there?”
“Eight. I know that Chief Tando has a son who is around twenty years old, and he is especially vicious against white people. His name is Latawga. I figure it might have been Latawga who was leading this bunch of cattle thieves who killed the rest of the Bates family. They all looked quite young to me.”
“The incident should be reported to the commandant at Fort Junction.”
“Yes, it should.”
“What’s the commandant’s name?”
“Colonel Perry Smith. I saw him one time, but didn’t get to meet him.”
At that moment, Dora came in carrying a tray bearing three steaming cups of coffee. She let the men pick up their cups from the tray, then set it on the dresser, and took her cup in hand. As she headed for a third wooden chair, she glanced at Jack. “Still out, I see.”
Dr. Dane nodded. “He was moving his body a little a few minutes ago. That’s a good sign, but he’s still out.”
While the three of them were enjoying their coffee, they discussed the care Jack was going to need.
Dora sipped from her cup and said to Rex, “The best thing would be for us to take Jack home with us so we can watch over him.”
Rex nodded. “That’s what we’ll do, honey. We’ll take him in our wagon.”
Dr. Dane drained his cup. “I’ll give you instructions on how to care for his wound; then I’d better be going. I’ll ride to Fort Junction right now and report this horrible incident to Colonel Perry Smith. My wife and I are leaving Monday morning for Denver, but I’ll have Dr. Fraser come to your place and check on Jack in a few days.”
Dora smiled. “That will be good, Doctor.”
Dr. Dane rose from the chair and stood over Jack Bates. The Wilsons moved up beside him, and he gave them instructions on how to care for Jack’s wound and the bandage. He gave them a bottle of laudanum, told them how much and how often they should give it to him to take the edge off his pain.