by Al Lacy
Greg looked at the doctor. “Would you hold her, Dr. Logan, while I run down to the general store and get her some water?”
“I’ll get her some,” spoke up a middle-aged man on the front edge of the crowd. “Be right back.”
Greg called out a word of thanks as the man hurried away.
Dr. Dane leaned down and laid a hand on Cassandra’s brow. “It’s Dr. Logan, Cassandra. Water is on the way.”
Greg looked down at her with adoration. “Cassandra, try again to open your eyes.”
She forced her glassy eyes open, trying with difficulty to focus them on Greg’s face.
He smiled. “Did you hear what I said before? No one is going to hurt you now.”
She nodded. Her words came out shakily and with a croaking sound. “Yes, Greg. I heard you.”
At that moment, the man who had gone after the water drew up, puffing, holding a cup of water in his hand.
Rosemary smiled at him and took the cup from his hand. “Thank you, sir.”
He grinned and took a couple of steps back.
Greg raised Cassandra’s head slightly. “Rosemary’s got water for you.”
“Just take small sips, Cassandra,” said Dr. Dane.
After Cassandra had drained the cup sip by sip, she set her eyes on Greg. Her voice was still a bit raspy. “Y-you hit that vile man on the head with something, didn’t you?”
Greg nodded. “Mm-hmm. A crowbar.”
She smiled. “You’re my hero.”
Greg looked at Tharyn and blushed.
Dr. Dane bent down and said, “Cassandra, you’re going to be fine. Mrs. Logan will stay with you a little longer and make sure you can walk all right. I’ve got to see to this man who was holding his gun to your head.”
She blinked. “Is he going to jail?”
“He sure is. It’s my duty as a doctor to do what I can to stop the bleeding on his head where Greg popped him, but after that, I’m turning him over to Marshal Merrell for arrest and prosecution. There were plenty of witnesses, that’s for sure.”
Merrell said, “I’ll get someone to help me, Doctor, and we’ll carry this guy to your office so you can look him over and stitch up that gash in his head. When you’re finished, he’s going into a cell. I’ll bring him up before one of the county judges as soon as he’s able to stand before him.”
As Dr. Dane was about to comment, Deputy Len Kurtz rode up and dismounted. Immediately, people in the crowd began telling Kurtz what happened. He stepped up to the spot where his boss and the doctor were standing over the unconscious man. “Need help, Marshal? Doctor?”
“Yes,” said Merrell. “Help me carry this guy over to the doctor’s office.”
Dr. Dane led the two lawmen as they carried Waco Belton’s accomplice toward the office.
The crowd was still cheering Marshal Jake Merrell for taking out the gunslinger.
FIFTEEN
As the two lawmen were carrying the unconscious accomplice of Waco Belton down the street with Dr. Dane Logan beside them, Tharyn kept her eyes on them.
Greg Holton noticed it. “Mrs. Logan, if you need to be there to help Dr. Logan work on that man, I’ll stay right here with Cassandra until she’s doing better. You go on.”
“When Cassandra is feeling up to it,” said Rosemary, “Greg and I will take her home. If Dr. Logan wants to check on her later, I’m sure her Aunt Mabel would welcome it.”
Tharyn smiled at both of them. “All right. There are patients waiting to see my husband, too. I’ll go help him.”
Stepping off the boardwalk into the dust of the street, Tharyn lifted her skirt just above her ankles and ran after her husband and the other men as fast as she could go.
She drew up beside her husband, who was surprised to see her. They were almost to the office, where the patients who had appointments were waiting on the boardwalk and looking on.
Tharyn looked up at Dane. “I thought I’d better come and help you. Greg and Rosemary are going to take Cassandra home as soon as she feels like it. You can check on her later, if you wish.”
“I’ll do that … and yes, I really do need you.”
As they drew up to the front of the office, Dr. Dane hurried ahead of Marshal Jake Merrell and Deputy Len Kurtz as they carried the man who had put the gun to Cassandra Wheatley’s head.
He was now moaning, moving his head back and forth, and blinking his eyes.
Dr. Dane hopped up onto the boardwalk and opened the door. As the lawmen carried the man past him into the office, Tharyn was on their heels. Just as he was about to follow her inside, he heard the voice of Western Union Agent Charlie Holmes call his name.
Holmes stepped up with a yellow envelope in his hand. “Telegram for you, Doctor. It’s from Chief U.S. Marshal John Brockman in Denver.”
“Thanks, Charlie.”
“You’re welcome, Doctor. I’m sure glad Marshal Merrell took out that gunslinger and Greg whacked his accomplice on the noggin. See you later.”
Dr. Dane turned to his patients, who were standing on the boardwalk. “Come on in and sit down, folks. I’ll get to you as soon as I can.”
One of the male patients took hold of the door, freeing the doctor to hurry after the two lawmen and his wife. As he passed Tharyn’s desk, he dropped the yellow envelope on top and dashed into the examining room, where the lawmen were placing the groggy man on a table.
The marshal looked at the doctor. “We’ll stay right here till you’ve patched him up. Then we’ll take him and put him in a cell.”
Dr. Dane nodded. “Right.” He then reached into the man’s hip pocket, took out his wallet, and handed it to Merrell. “Maybe there’s something in here that’ll tell you who this guy is.”
The marshal grinned and took the wallet. “We’ll soon find out.”
Tharyn was at the medicine cabinet, picking up needle, thread, bandage material, and a bottle of wood alcohol. She hurried to the cart beside the table and laid them in place, while her husband went to the nearby basin to wash his hands.
When the doctor drew up to the table, the foggy-eyed man gave him a hard look. “What about Waco?”
“He’s dead. He lost when he drew against Marshal Jake Merrell here.”
The patient mumbled something indistinguishable under his breath, clenched his teeth, and looked up at the marshal.
“So your name’s Claude Yardley,” Merrell said levelly.
The patient frowned and started to speak, but Dr. Dane cut him off by saying, “Mr. Yardley, relax. I’ve got to stitch up this gash in your head.”
Greg Holton was still holding Cassandra Wheatley in his arms when her eyes finally came clear. Rosemary Snyder sat beside them on the bench, and smiled down at her friend when she saw her looking at her.
Cassandra blinked. “Rosemary, are you all right?”
“Just a little shaky down deep inside, but now that you’re doing better, I’ll be okay.”
Cassandra nodded, focused on Greg’s face, then threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Greg, for saving my life! That beast would have killed me for sure if you hadn’t hit him with the crowbar.”
Many townspeople had gathered around them and were commending Greg for what he had done.
Rosemary set appreciative eyes on Greg. “I want to thank you too, Greg, for having the courage to bash that guy on the cranium. He’s looking at jail time, for sure.”
“He deserves it.”
Rosemary glanced at Cassandra again, then looked at Greg. “I think she’s ready to be taken home now, where she can lie down and rest.”
Greg found Cassandra looking at him in a loving manner. He felt a tingle slither down his backbone. “I’ll take you and Rosemary both home in the wagon I was driving.”
She flashed him a warm smile. “All right. We both really appreciate it.”
Greg rose to his feet with Cassandra in his arms, thanked the people who were still gathered around for their kind words, then headed for his wagon. Carrying the package that
contained her new dress, Rosemary followed.
At the doctor’s office, Dr. Dane finished stitching up the gash in Claude Yardley’s head, and he and Tharyn wrapped his head with gauze. He was lying on his right side on the table.
Dr. Dane looked at Marshal Jake Merrell. “Okay, you can take him now.”
Yardley glared up at the marshal. “Take me where?”
“You’re under arrest for putting Cassandra Wheatley’s life in danger, Yardley. Deputy Len Kurtz and I are taking you to the town jail for now, and within a day or two, you’ll face one of the Gilpin County judges for your deed.”
Yardley’s beefy face twisted in fury. “What’re you talkin’ about? I never hurt that girl!”
Merrell scowled at him. “No, but you put a gun to her head. And if the man who bashed you on the skull hadn’t done so, you might have killed her. You’re going to spend some time behind bars, mister. It’ll be up to the judge just how long.”
Yardley’s features reddened. Before he could make the angry retort that was forming on his lips, Merrell interrupted. “You give me any trouble, mister, and you’ll be plenty sorry. The judge will add length to your sentence in the county jail if I tell him you resisted arrest.”
Deputy Kurtz said, “Better cool down, Yardley. Believe me, you don’t want Marshal Merrell getting any more put out with you than he is already.”
Merrell said, “Might as well tell you this too, pal. I extracted ten dollars from your wallet to pay Dr. Logan for stitching you up and bandaging your head.”
Yardley gave the marshal a hateful look but did not reply. A plan was forming in his mind. It would take some things falling into place for him, but he was devising a way to get away from the lawmen when they were taking him to Central City’s jail.
Dr. Dane looked at Merrell with a smile. “I didn’t know you had been a deputy marshal under Chief U.S. Marshal John Brockman. He and I are good friends.”
Merrell smiled back. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I was with Chief Brockman for over five years, then decided to take a lawman’s job that would not require the traveling that being a federal deputy does.”
“Mm-hmm. I can understand that. And I’ll say this, Jake. The way you drew your gun and beat Belton to the draw when he already had his hand on his gun, tells me that you were trained by the man who used to be known as the Stranger. There’s never been a man who was able to match his speed and accuracy, whether it was just a friendly fast-draw contest, or some hotshot gunslinger like Waco Belton who challenged him because he wanted to make a name for himself.”
Deputy Len Kurtz chuckled. “Yeah, every one of those hot-shots who challenged John Brockman made a name for themselves, all right—on a grave marker or a tombstone.”
Claude Yardley scowled up at Kurtz. When Marshal Merrell’s tight gaze fell on him, the scowl disappeared.
The marshal turned to the doctor and grinned. “Doc, I’m mighty proud to say that it was Chief Brockman who taught me how to fast-draw.”
“When Tharyn and I take Nelda and Eric Cox over to Denver to do Nelda’s surgery, we’ll no doubt see John and Breanna. I’ll tell the chief that he taught you well.”
Jake smiled. “Please tell the chief and Mrs. Brockman hello for me.”
“We both will, Marshal,” spoke up Tharyn.
The marshal said, “Well, Doc, we can take our prisoner and go, can’t we?”
“Sure can. We’ve got a bunch of people out there in the waiting room to see.”
Kurtz frowned. “Yardley can walk, can’t he, Doctor?”
Dr. Dane nodded. “Should be able to. I don’t think you’ll have to carry him now that he’s awake.”
Tharyn said, “I’ll go out and bring in whoever’s first on the list, darling.”
“Okay.”
Yardley looked up from the table. “I—I ain’t near ready to walk by myself. You two guys will have to help me.”
“We can do that,” said Merrell.
“Should we put him in cuffs, Marshal?” asked Kurtz.
“Don’t think we need to, Len. He’ll be hanging onto us as much as we’ll be hanging onto him. Let’s go.”
Yardley smiled secretly to himself. So far his scheme for making his escape was working perfectly.
As the lawmen were half-carrying a shuffling Yardley through the examining room door, Dr. Dane said to her, “Honey, Charlie Holmes handed me a telegram just before I followed the rest of you in here. It’s from John Brockman, but I laid it on your desk. I’ve got to wash this blood off my hands. Will you bring it to me, please?”
“John Brockman, hmm? Sure will. Wonder what it’s about.”
“Don’t know, but it’s got to be important.”
“I’ll get it right now, then go back for the first patient.”
Dr. Dane was drying his hands at the washbasin when Tharyn returned with the yellow envelope. “Three of the patients left, darling: They told the other two to let us know that they had things they had to do, but they will be back later. We still have two women out there to see. Here’s the telegram. Be back in about three minutes.”
Dane took the envelope and started opening it. “Okay. See you in three minutes.”
In exactly three minutes, Tharyn returned alone. “Sarah Bradley will be first, honey. I checked the burn on her hand, and it’s looking much better.”
Dane was placing the telegram back in its envelope. “Good.”
“I thought I’d see what the telegram is about before I bring her back.”
“Chief Brockman learned from Breanna’s brother-in-law, Dr. Matt Carroll, that you and I are coming to Denver on Monday in preparation to do the hip replacement surgery on Nelda Cox on Wednesday. He and Breanna want us to stay with them at their place in the country while we’re in Denver, instead of the Brown Palace Hotel.”
“Well, that’s nice of them.”
“Sure is. And John says Eric is welcome to stay with them, as well. They have a second spare bedroom he can stay in.”
“I’d love to stay with John and Breanna.”
“Me, too. We’ll tell Eric what John said in the telegram and encourage him to stay with the Brockmans.”
“I’m sure he will take John up on the offer,” said Tharyn. “Well, I’ll go bring Sarah in.”
As Marshal Jake Merrell and Deputy Len Kurtz were half-carrying Claude Yardley along the boardwalk toward the marshal’s office and jail, people stared at Yardley with acrimonious eyes. One man focused on the bandage that was wrapped around Yardley’s head and commented to the man next to him, “He deserved that clout on the head. Too bad Greg didn’t hit him harder.”
Yardley heard it, but his mind was fixed on creating a way to escape. He acted as if he were weaker than he really was and leaned heavily on the lawmen as he shuffled along the boardwalk.
As they crossed the street, Yardley looked up into the next block and saw the sign at the far end that read: Marshal’s Office and Jail. He knew he had to think fast.
Suddenly, Yardley saw the chance he had been hoping for. Just ahead, in front of the hardware store, a small group of people were collected and looking toward him and the lawmen as they moved slowly down the boardwalk. One man was bending over to help a little boy tie a shoestring. On the man’s hip was a holstered revolver. The handle seemed to be inviting Yardley to grab it and make his escape. If he timed it right, he could grab the gun, then snatch up the child, and put the gun to his head like he had that brunette girl. His horse was too far down the street, so he would take one that was tied at the hitch rail close by, and ride out of town with the boy as his hostage.
As they drew up to the spot, Yardley purposely stumbled, made it appear that he was falling, and caused the lawmen to lose their hold on his arms. He adeptly got his legs under him, quickly grabbed the gun from the man’s holster, then sank the fingers of his free hand into the boy’s shirt and yanked him close.
The boy’s father reacted quickly. He snatched his son from Yardley’s grasp and swung a fis
t at his face. The blow glanced off Yardley’s jaw and at the same time, Yardley angrily snapped back the hammer, meaning to shoot the man.
Suddenly a shot rang out and Claude Yardley collapsed, dropping the gun. The little boy was wailing in terror and his mother quickly folded him into her arms.
Everyone on the boardwalk looked on in shock as Marshal Jake Merrell moved toward the fallen man, his gun smoking. Len Kurtz was instantly beside the marshal. As Merrell picked up the revolver Yardley had dropped, he said so all could hear, “He’s dead.”
Merrell handed the gun to its owner and holstered his own weapon. “Ralph, I’m sorry about this. The guy made Len and me think he was almost totally immobile. He just surprised us.”
Ralph put an arm around his wife, who was consoling the frightened child. “It’s all right, Marshal. You handled the situation quite well. This guy won’t be putting anyone else in danger … ever.”
At the doctor’s office, Dr. Dane and Tharyn were working on their second patient in the examining room when the sound of the gunshot echoed down the street. The heads of all three came up, and the woman said, “Oh no. More trouble.”
Dr. Dane had just lanced a boil on the woman’s arm and was squeezing it to make it drain. “Can’t stop to go see what happened. We’ll just have to wait a few minutes till I get this done.”
Ten minutes later, the bandage was on the woman’s arm as Dr. Dane and Tharyn were walking her to the office. When they stepped into the office, they saw people moving by on the street from the direction of the gunshot. Dr. Dane stepped out the door and called to a man who was drawing near. “Albert, do you know what that gunshot was all about?”
Tharyn and the woman moved to the door so they could hear what was being said.
The man hauled up and nodded. “Yes, Doctor. That no-good who put the gun to Mabel’s niece’s head just tried to get away from Marshal Merrell and Len as they were taking him to the jail. He grabbed a gun from Ralph Stanley’s holster and tried to nab little Joey and take him as a hostage. Ralph punched him, and just before the guy could shoot Ralph, the marshal shot and killed him.”