by Al Lacy
“I’ve read about Dr. Gluck’s ivory ball, gentlemen. And Dr. Dane, I’d sure like to be at your side when you do the surgery.”
“I’d be honored to have you there, sir,” said Dane.
Dr. Jacob laughed. “I’ll be on this boy’s other side, Dr. Chamberlain!”
When father and son were riding toward their office in Dane’s buggy down Cheyenne’s wide Main Street, Dane said, “You know, Dad, you and I talked that day when I completed my internship at the hospital about the fact that I would only plan to stay on as partner in the practice for a short time, then I would seek my own practice somewhere.”
“Yes, son. Don’t tell me you’ve already got plans in the making.”
Dane chuckled. “No, but I just want to make sure you will back me when that day comes.”
“Well, of course I will, Dane. I told you that the day you joined me in the practice. Sure, I’d like to keep you for a long, long time, but I understand your desire to have your own practice. Your mother and I have prayed about it a lot, and we’ve left it in God’s hands. Until the Lord leads you to establish your own practice or take over some retiring doctor’s practice, I want to keep you right where you are.”
Dane put an arm around his father and hugged him close. “God so blessed me when He put it on your heart and Mom’s to adopt me.”
Jacob looked at him with tears glistening in his eyes. “You weren’t the only one who got blessed, son. The Lord blessed your mother and me when He brought you into our lives. We’ve praised Him every day since the moment we adopted you. We couldn’t have a better son.”
Suddenly they saw a man jump off the boardwalk and come running down the street, waving his arms and calling to them. They both recognized Harry Fisher, one of Cheyenne’s residents. Harry and his wife were their patients.
Dane pulled the buggy over.
Fisher drew up and said breathlessly, “Dr. Jacob! Dr. Dane! I was just at your office. Ella Dover told me you were both at the hospital.”
“What’s wrong, Harry?” asked Dr. Jacob.
“Walt Minard just collapsed while waiting on customers at his store! Mrs. Minard asked me to come and find at least one of you in a hurry!”
“Climb on the running board, Harry,” said Dr. Dane.
Harry jumped on and Dane put the horse to a gallop. Minard’s General Store was at the far end of the next block.
Moments later when Dane brought his horse to a halt in front of the store, they saw a crowd gathered on the boardwalk, trying to see through the large front window.
Both doctors were picking up their medical bags from the floor of the buggy as Dr. Dane said, “Harry, will you tie my horse to the hitch rail for me?”
“Sure, Doc. You get on in there.”
Dr. Dane led the way, elbowing his way through the crowd. When father and son entered the store, they also found a crowd pressed around the fallen man and his wife, who knelt beside him on the floor.
“Please, folks,” said Dr. Jacob, “stand back and give us room.”
The people obeyed, pressing back to give the doctors more room to work.
Loretta Minard set fear-filled eyes on the younger doctor as he knelt beside her. “I’m so glad you’re here! Please, please, don’t let him die!”
At the same time, Dr. Jacob knelt on Walt’s other side.
Dr. Dane took one look at Walt’s gray color and whipped the stethoscope out of his medical bag. The man was conscious, but having a hard time breathing.
Dr. Jacob was unbuttoning Walt’s shirt.
Dr. Dane put the earpieces in his ears and quickly placed the microphone against Walt’s bare chest. After moving the microphone around on Walt’s chest for several minutes while listening closely, he looked into Loretta’s worried eyes. “He is in heart failure, ma’am. We need to get him to the hospital immediately after I give him a dose of nitroglycerin. We’ll take him in my buggy.” He looked up at the crowd. “Will one of you go out and tell Harry Fisher to have my buggy ready, please?”
“I’ll do it, Doctor,” a young man said, and quickly made an exit.
Dr. Dane took a small bottle of nitroglycerin from his medical bag and administered it to Walt, talking to him in a low, comforting voice.
While he was doing so, Dr. Jacob said, “Son, you won’t have room for me in the buggy. Patients are waiting at the office. As soon as we’ve got Walt in the buggy, I’ll go on and take care of them.” Then he said to Loretta, “Walt’s in the best of hands, Mrs. Minard. My son will take good care of him.”
She nodded. “Yes, Doctor. I’ll ride with Dr. Dane and Walt to the hospital. My two clerks can watch over the store.”
When Dr. Dane finished administering the nitroglycerin, he placed the bottle and the stethoscope in the bag and looked at Loretta. “Will you carry the bag for me please, ma’am?”
“Of course.”
Dr. Dane picked the stricken man up in his arms and rose to his feet. Loretta was already on her feet and following Dr. Jacob, who was asking people to clear the way.
When they reached the street, Harry Fisher had the horse and buggy prepared, already pointed in the direction of the hospital.
Dr. Dane told Loretta to place his medical bag on the floor of the buggy, then allowed her to climb in ahead of him. He then placed Walt’s limp form on the seat, laying his upper body in Loretta’s lap. She quickly cradled his head in her arms, trying desperately to keep her composure.
As Dr. Dane was climbing in beside them, Loretta stroked her dear husband’s gray face. “You’ll be fine, sweetheart.” Her voice cracked with emotion as she added, “Dr. Dane will take good care of you.”
Big tears filled her eyes. She wiped them away with the palm of her hand, and while Dr. Dane put the horse to a fast trot, Loretta continued speaking comforting words to her husband.
One of the men in the crowd stepped up to Dr. Jacob Logan and said, “Do you doctors ever have a day of rest?”
Jacob managed a weak smile. “Once in a while, Ralph.”
Ralph shook his head while others looked on. “I don’t know how you do it. There isn’t enough money in the world to make me want to be a doctor.”
Jacob’s smile widened. “It isn’t money, Ralph. It’s a certain something the Lord puts in a man’s makeup that drives him to be a physician. There is a deep-seated desire to save lives and help people who are sick or injured to be cured. Our satisfaction comes when we accomplish this.”
A middle-aged woman in the crowd said, “God bless you, Dr. Logan Somehow I have a feeling that your son is going to save Walt Minard’s life.”
Dr. Jacob grinned and nodded. “My son has already saved many a life in the few months he has been my partner, Mrs. Scully.”
In a matter of a few minutes, Dr. Dane Logan pulled the wagon to a halt near the front door of Cheyenne’s Memorial Hospital. He hopped out and lifted Walt into his arms.
Loretta climbed down quickly and was on the doctor’s heels as he headed for the front door.
When they moved into the lobby, he turned and said over his shoulder, “The receptionist over there at the desk will need to get some information from you. Then please sit down here in the waiting area. I’ll check back with you as soon as possible.”
Loretta nodded. “Yes, Doctor. Thank you.”
She then looked at her husband’s colorless face and stroked it. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you too,” breathed Walt.
Dr. Dane adjusted Walt in his arms and gave Loretta an assuring look. “Talk to you soon.” With that, he hurried across the lobby, moved through the double doors that led into the corridor, and disappeared.
The sun had just set over the towering Rocky Mountains west of Denver as Chief U.S. Marshal John Brockman and Wally Talbot rode south on Broadway side by side. John was riding his faithful black gelding, Ebony, and Wally was riding the bay gelding he had rented at Denver’s Black Saddle Stable for the ride to Central City.
“Wally,” said John,
“I’m sorry about the delay at the office. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting, but the deputy who came in at the last minute with the outlaw he had been trailing needed to give me his verbal report.”
Wally smiled at him. “Hey, Chief, it’s all right. I understand. I didn’t mind waiting.”
They were nearing the edge of town. John adjusted himself in the saddle. “I hope Breanna has gone ahead and started supper. She’s used to my being late like this. In my business, I never know what will happen next.”
Wally chuckled. “I can imagine that, Chief.”
Soon they were out of town and approaching the fork in the road. As John took the fork to the right, Wally said, “Pretty country out here. How much land do you have on your place?”
“Six acres. Just enough to give us some open space around the house and barn. Let’s pick up the pace a bit.” As he spoke, he put Ebony to a fast trot, and Wally made his horse keep up.
Moments later, they were riding alongside a small creek that was lined with cottonwood trees. The creek ran all the way into the mountains, sided by a trail on its other side. John thought of the many times he and Breanna had ridden their horses together into the mountains, following the trail and the creek.
The valley in front of them widened toward the foothills, and farther beyond was lost in a vast sweep of pines and aspens beneath the fading light of the western sky that lifted the dark peaks of the rugged Rockies into bold relief.
As John guided Ebony off the road to the right and led Wally down the tree-lined lane of the Brockman place, he pointed toward the beautiful white two-story house that stood in a grove of cottonwood and weeping willow trees. “Well, there’s your hotel for the night, my friend.”
Wally smiled. “Looks good to me!” He let his eyes roam over the place in the fading light. A small barn and other outbuildings could be seen behind the house, all painted white. A split-rail fence formed a corral around the barn. The house had a wraparound porch and black shutters adorning all its windows. “Beautiful place, Chief.”
“Thank you,” said John as they rode past the house, where the guests’ horse and carriage stood near the front porch.
As they drew near the barn and corral, another big black gelding trotted up to the corral gate, whinnying.
Ebony whinnied back.
Pulling rein, Wally looked at him behind the corral gate. “Wow! What a magnificent animal! You must like black horses.”
“I like all colors of horses, Wally,” said John as they drew their mounts to a halt. “But this is Breanna’s horse. His name is Chance. I saved your life once in Kansas—”
Wally regarded him quizzically.
“Well, Chance saved my life once in Montana when he was a wild stallion. I brought him home and gave him to Breanna. He will always be something special to me.”
Wallly chuckled. “And, Chief Brockman, you will always be something special to me.” John’s face flushed as they dismounted. They removed the saddles and bridles from their horses, put them in the corral with Chance, and headed toward the house.
It was a warm September evening. The doors and windows of the house were open. The warm glow of lantern light spilled out across the wide porch and on to Breanna’s flower beds.
Wally drew in a long breath through his nostrils. “Something sure smells good, Chief.”
John had already noted the sweet scent in the air. “Yes, that’s my wife’s famous fried chicken and biscuits. I keep telling her she should open her own restaurant, but she insists she is already busy enough.”
Wally laughed, and just as they were drawing up to the back porch, Breanna appeared in the open doorway. “Welcome, Wally,” she said as the two men mounted the steps.
“Thank you, ma’am. It sure does smell good!”
Breanna smiled at him, then took hold of her husband’s hand. “I’ve been keeping supper hot on the stove.”
“I’m sorry for being late, sweetheart. Deputy Dan Lynch came in with an outlaw he’d been trailing, and—”
“You don’t have to explain, darling. I know how it is at the chief U.S. marshal’s office.”
When they stepped into the kitchen, Ginny was there. She smiled at Wally and curtsied. “Hello, Mr. Talbot,” she said, then rushed into her father’s arms.
As John lifted her up, he kissed her cheek. “I love you, sweet baby.”
She then kissed his cheek with a big smack. “I love you too, sweet Papa.”
Breanna said to John, “Take Wally into the parlor, honey, and introduce him to the Tabors. Ginny and I will have supper on the table in a few minutes. Kitty and Tharyn insisted on helping us, but I won out.”
John chuckled. “Don’t you always?”
Breanna punched him playfully in the midsection. “We won’t talk about my argumentative prowess right now.”
John chuckled again. “Come on, Wally. Let’s go into the parlor.”
When the two men entered the parlor, Paul dashed to his father, and after they had hugged, John introduced Wally to David and Kitty Tabor, who were in their midfifties. He then introduced him to beautiful twenty-two-year-old Tharyn, who had long auburn hair and expressive blue eyes.
As everyone sat down, John said, “Wally, David is president of Denver’s First National Bank. I believe we told you that these people go to the same church we do.”
“Yes,” Wally said. “It’s quite obvious that the Brockmans think an awful lot of you folks.”
“That works both ways, Mr. Talbot,” said Kitty.
David set kind eyes on Wally. “Breanna has filled us in on you, Mr. Talbot. You must—”
“You can call me Wally, Mr. Tabor.”
The banker laughed. “Then you can call me David.”
A broad smile spread over the farmer’s face. “Okay, David. You were saying …”
“I was going to say that you must have deep feelings toward this man who saved you from being gunned down by a professional gunfighter, then led you to Christ.”
Wally nodded, glanced at John, then looked back to David. “The English language doesn’t have the words to say how I feel about Chief John Stranger Brockman, sir.”
At that moment, Breanna appeared with Ginny at her side. “Okay, folks, supper’s on the table.”
As they were all walking toward the dining room, David sniffed the delightful aromas that were filling the house. “Mmmmm! I can hardly wait, Breanna. If it tastes half as good as it smells all of us are in for a real treat.”
Kitty patted his arm. “You know Breanna always fixes your favorite food, dear. That’s because anything to eat is always your favorite food!”
As they passed through the dining room door, David patted his slight paunch. “Well, it’s true, Kitty darlin’. Eating is one of my favorite activities!”
Everyone laughed.
Candlelight in the chandelier above the table gleamed onto a lovely yellow damask tablecloth. Yellow napkins were folded and lying on each blue and white plate. Breanna had made a captivating centerpiece of white and yellow daisies, and their fragrance filled the air.
David rubbed his stomach. “Boy, am I hungry!”
Breanna laughed. “Well, there’s plenty, David. I want you to fill up.”
Kitty said, “You needn’t tell him that, Breanna. He always does fill up when we eat at your house!”
Breanna directed her guests where to sit at the table.
When everyone was seated, John set his gray eyes on his friend from Kansas. “Wally, would you ask the blessing on the food, please?”
Wally smiled. “I would be honored to do so, Chief.”
Heads were bowed, and eyes were closed.
Wally thanked the Lord for the food, asking Him to bless it to the nourishment of their bodies, then said, “And, Lord, thank You for sending the Stranger to me that day in Wichita twelve years ago, when—” He choked up, cleared his throat, and wiped at the tears that were filling the corners of his closed eyes.
No one opened their eyes as Wal
ly wept for a few seconds, then finally got his amen out.
Wally set his gaze on John. “I’ll never be able to thank you properly for saving my life, and for leading me to the Lord.”
John smiled. “Wally, you have already thanked me sufficiently. Let’s eat!”
During the meal, the conversation led to Tharyn, and the fact that the Tabors had chosen her off an orphan train nine years ago, took her home, and adopted her immediately.
This caught Wally’s interest. He looked across the table at Tharyn. “I’ve heard a lot about the orphan trains, Miss Tharyn. I’ve read some stories in the Wichita Herald about some of the orphans that have been chosen there over the years. Would you mind telling me your story?”
Tharyn smiled. “All right, sir. I was born and raised in New York City—Manhattan, to be specific.”
“Mm-hmm.”
When I was thirteen years old, my parents were killed when a team of frightened horses hitched to a wagon full of building materials ran them down in front of our tenement.”
Wally’s brow furrowed. “Oh my. I’m so sorry, dear.”
Tharyn smiled thinly and nodded. “You see, Mr. Talbot, like you I know what it is to have someone save my life. I would have been trampled to death like my parents were if a fifteen-year-old boy named Dane Weston, whom I had just met that morning, hadn’t dashed up and removed me from the path of the charging horses just before they hit my parents.”
Wally moved his head back and forth slowly. “This Dane Weston must have become a real hero in your eyes.”
“He really did. Especially because he risked his own life to save mine. Dane could have been trampled to death too, had his timing been off just slightly.”
“Some young man, I’ll say.”
“Yes, sir. You see, Dane was an orphan who lived on the streets in downtown Manhattan. He just happened to be in our neighborhood at the time. Since I had become an orphan, Dane took me under his wing, so to speak, and made a place for me with his colony of orphans in an alley. And—and it was Dane who witnessed to me about salvation and was responsible for me becoming a Christian.”
“I’ll say it again. Some young man! Did Dane come west on the orphan train too?”