by Al Lacy
Tharyn nodded. “You’re right, Mama. There’s no way I can ever forget Dane. I mean, just wipe him out of my memory. But I’ll focus on Scott. He is my future.”
Kitty patted her arm. “Good girl. Now let’s pray together, then you can go to bed.”
As Tharyn lay in bed in the darkness after her mother had been with her, she closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, thank You for my wonderful parents. They have been so good to me. And thank You for bringing Scott into my life.”
She paused and swallowed with difficulty. “Lord, I pray once again for Dane as I have for these many years. Please free him from the prison. You know he didn’t commit that murder.”
Abruptly, a new thought worked its way into Tharyn’s mind. Maybe new evidence has been found that proved him innocent. Maybe he’s out of prison now. “Oh, I hope that’s the case. If so, I hope he’s pursuing his dream of being a doctor.”
Then another thought edged its way in. Then why hasn’t he written me or come to see me?
Fresh pain filled her heart.
She took a deep breath. “Well, enough of this self-pity. The Lord has brought Scott into my life, and my thoughts should be on him and our future together.”
Anticipating Scott Hubbard’s return from Pueblo, she fell asleep with her mind on him.
In Cheyenne on Tuesday, September 21, Dr. Dane Logan stood with Loretta Minard in her husband’s hospital room as a male attendant helped Walt into a wheelchair from a straight-backed wooden chair. He was dressed and excited about being able to go home.
Loretta smiled as she saw the contented look on her husband’s face. “Thank you, Dr. Logan, for what you’ve done to help Walt’s heart come back to normal.”
“Yes, Doctor,” said Walt, as he settled on the wheelchair. “Your dad was right. He told me I was in good hands.”
Dr. Dane grinned. “Well, that’s my job. I’m just so glad to see you doing so well. Now don’t forget to stay on the medicine I gave you. And don’t do anything strenuous until I say you can. We have an appointment set for you to come to the office so I can check your heart in a week, remember?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll make sure he gets there, Doctor,” said Loretta.
As the attendant wheeled Walt out of the room, Loretta and the doctor followed into the corridor. Loretta paused, raised up on her tiptoes, and kissed Dane’s cheek. “God bless you, Dr. Logan. The Lord truly has given you much wisdom.” With that, she hurried after her husband.
Dr. Dane stood and watched as the Minards made their way down the corridor, the wheels of the wheelchair squeaking. When they reached the corner, Loretta stopped and looked back. Seeing Dr. Dane still standing there, she waved. He returned the gesture, then watched her disappear around the corner.
“Thank You, Lord,” he said softly. “Thank You for giving this country doctor the wisdom, guidance, and skill I’ve prayed for.”
In one of the operating rooms at Cheyenne Memorial Hospital on Friday morning, September 24, Dr. Jacob Logan and Dr. Wiley Chamberlain looked at each other and smiled as Dr. Dane Logan put the last stitch in the incision of Bertha Ballard’s hip. Nurse Laura Connally was assisting him.
Laura noticed the two older doctors smiling at each other. She smiled, looked at the younger doctor, and said, “Dr. Logan, that was some kind of surgery. I have no doubt Mrs. Ballard is going to walk again.”
“Sure she will!” exclaimed Dr. Chamberlain. “That ivory ball-and-socket joint is definitely the answer. Dr. Logan, I’m proud of you.”
“Me too!” said the other Dr. Logan. “You did a beautiful job, son.”
Dane smiled. “I couldn’t have done it if Dr. Theodore Gluck hadn’t shown me how to do it, and the Lord hadn’t guided my hands.”
“It’s plain to see that God meant you to be a physician and surgeon, my boy.” Dr. Jacob turned to the hospital superintendent. “Well, Dr. Chamberlain, you have a meeting to attend, and I have patients waiting for treatment at my office.”
When the two older doctors had gone, Dr. Dane looked down at Bertha for a long moment, then turned to the nurse. “I’ll go tell her son and daughter-in-law how the surgery went, Laura. I’ll let them know that you are at her side, and that you’ll come and get them when she awakens, so they can talk to her.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
He walked to the door, paused, and looked over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in the morning to check on her. Thank you for assisting me. You did a good job.”
“Working with you is a pleasure, Doctor,” she said with a warm smile. “You are so dedicated to your profession.”
Dr. Dane walked down the corridor a few steps and entered the waiting room. Clyde and Frances Ballard rose to their feet instantly, waiting for the doctor to speak.
“She’s doing fine,” Dr. Dane said with a smile. “Everything went well, and both doctors who were with me agreed that the hip replacement was a success. Bertha will walk again after a few months of therapy.”
“Wonderful!” said Frances.
“Yes!” exclaimed Clyde, wrapping his arms around Frances.
They held on to each other for a moment, then Clyde said, “Dr. Logan, how can we ever thank you?”
“No need. Seeing your mother walk again will be thanks enough.”
“How soon can we see her?” queried Frances.
“It’ll probably be at least another hour before she comes out of it and can talk to you. The nurse with her is Laura Connally. She will come and let you know when you can see Bertha.”
“We’ll be right here,” said Clyde. “And thanks again for making it so she can walk again.”
While driving his buggy toward the office, Dane praised the Lord for His help in doing Bertha’s surgery. “There’s so much satisfaction in this profession, Lord. That dear woman would have been a cripple the rest of her life, but because of what I learned from Dr. Gluck, and because You have given me the ability to perform surgery, she will walk again. Thank You.”
Two men on the boardwalk caught his eye and waved to him. Dr. Dane smiled and waved back. Soon he was reading the shingle that swung in the breeze:
Cheyenne Medical Office
Dr. Jacob Logan
Dr. Dane Logan
As he guided the buggy up to a hitching post in front of the office, his head bobbed at the sight of the two young women on the boardwalk whom he had seen in the hospital a few days before. When he focused on the one with the long auburn hair, the same tiny, tingling currents scintillated through his chest as before.
Though there were some differences in the young lady’s facial features from Tharyn’s, she had the same shade of blue eyes and resembled her amazingly in size and stature.
The young ladies passed on by, totally unaware of the effect that the redhead had on him.
Dr. Dane hopped out of the buggy, picked up his medical bag, tied the horse’s reins to the post, and headed toward the office door. “Lord,” he said in a half-whisper, “You know where Tharyn is and how she is doing. Please take care of her and bless her.”
High in the Rocky Mountains west of Fort Collins, Colorado, Tag Moran, his brothers Bart and Jason, along with Gib Tully and Tony Chacone were sitting on the front porch of the large log cabin. The roar of the Cache La Poudre River several hundred feet below was music to their ears.
Each man was in a wool mackinaw with his hat pulled down tight against the stiff, cool breeze that was whistling through the surrounding pine and aspen trees. The aspen leaves had recently turned gold and were fluttering in the breeze. The sun was shining down from a clear azure sky. It was almost noon, and although the cabin windows and doors were closed because of the fall chill in the air, they caught some of the aroma of lunch cooking.
Tony Chacone made a slurping sound. “Sure smells good. I’m plenty hungry.”
Bart Moran nodded. “Me too. It’s been a long time since breakfast.”
Jason sighed. “I sure hope I can find a gal to marry who can cook like Lucinda and
Kathryn. Do you guys suppose I’ll have to wait till we’ve each got our quarter of a million and are living in California before I find her?”
Tag chuckled. “Probably so, little brother. Looks like it’s gonna be that way for me too. But I’ll tell you this much: When we strut around San Francisco—or wherever we decide to settle—in our fancy duds with diamond rings on our fingers, we won’t have any problem finding gals who want to marry us.”
In the kitchen of the cabin, Lucinda Moran and Kathryn Tully were busily preparing to feed the men. Kathryn was putting plates and eating utensils on the table as she looked at Lucinda, who was stirring a pot of beans at the stove. “I sure wish Tag would listen to me and just lead us and the men to California before winter hits these mountains.”
Lucinda looked down at the pot of beans, then lifted her gaze to Kathryn. “I understand the fear you have that if they keep on holding up banks for as long as Tag has planned, Gib could get killed like Darryl did. And I know Bart could get killed too, but since Bart and Gib are both in agreement with Tag that all five of them will not quit the robbery trail until each has a quarter of a million dollars, I have to go along with Bart.”
“Yes, but—”
“You mustn’t nag Gib about it, Kathryn. Just go along with it because it’s his big dream.”
Kathryn laid down the last fork and bit her lips. “It could go another way. So far, the gang hasn’t killed anybody during their robberies, but it could happen. Someone could offer resistance with a gun, and bullets would fly. If the gang kills someone, the law will be even hotter on their trail, and whoever did the killing will be hanged. Either way, Lucinda, one or both of us could lose our husbands.”
Suddenly, Kathryn broke into tears and dashed from the room.
Lucinda sighed, slid the pot of beans and the coffeepot to the side of the stove, and hurried after her.
When Lucinda entered the den, Kathryn was sitting on the small sofa, her face buried in her hands, and tears streaming between her fingers.
Lucinda sat down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, Kathryn, I understand your feelings about all of this, but you’ve got to get a grip on yourself. As I see it, you’ve got the same two choices that I have—stick by your husband in spite of your fears … or leave him.”
Kathryn drew a shuddering breath, lifted her head, and looked at her friend through a wall of tears. “It—it really comes down to that, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Kathryn ran a sleeve across her nose and mouth. “Then there’s only one answer. I love Gib too much to leave him. So—so I’ll just have to learn to live with this horrible, torturous fear inside me.”
“That’s right.”
There was a quivering in the pit of Kathryn’s stomach that ran right through her flesh to her bones. She drew another shuddering breath. Several seconds passed. She palmed tears from her face. “Then I’ll do it, Lucinda.”
“Good,” said Lucinda, rising to her feet. “Come on. Let’s feed those hungry outlaws.”
Outside on the porch, Tag and his men were discussing their next round of bank robberies.
“I read in a newspaper not long ago,” said Tag, “about a very substantial bank over in Vernal, Utah. We haven’t ever hit a bank in Utah. On this next round, I want to hit it. Then we’ll head into southwestern Wyoming, where we’ve never hit a bank before. I figure we’ll hit the banks in Evanston, Green River, and Rock Springs.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Bart.”
The others spoke their agreement.
Tag grinned. “One day I want to hit both banks in Salt Lake City simultaneously. Sometime next year. I guarantee you, boys, we’ll come out a whole lot richer then!”
“Keep talking, man,” spoke up Tony. “This is sounding better all the time!”
The others laughed, including Tag, who then said, “And of course, since we did so well when we hit both banks in Cheyenne simultaneously a year and a half ago, I want to go back there and do it again. They will have let their guard down by then.”
“Good thinking, Tag,” said Jason. “So you’re figuring to hit the banks in Vernal, Evanston, Green River, and Rock Springs in October, right?”
“Right. Then we’ll hibernate for the winter here at the cabin. Come spring, we’ll—”
Tag was interrupted when Tony jumped off his chair, whipped out his revolver, and snapped back the hammer.
The others stood up, looking around.
“What is it, Tony?” asked Tag.
“I saw movement in the timber down there toward the river. We’ve got company.”
Tag wondered if it was Doke Veatch.
With their hearts pounding, Tag and the others grabbed their rifles, which were leaning against the front wall of the cabin near the door.
As the gang flattened themselves on the floor of the porch, looking down the side of the mountain, Lucinda opened the cabin door. She called loudly, “Hey, you hungry outlaws! Lunch is on!”
From his prostrate position, Tag hissed, “Sh-h-h!”
Lucinda blinked as she saw all five of them on their bellies, rifles in hand.
In a hoarse whisper, Tag said, “Get back in the cabin! Someone is coming!”
At that instant, Tony pointed to movement in the deep shadows of the timber. “Oh! It’s only a cougar!”
Every eye was immediately fixed on the tawny male mountain lion as he threaded his way among the trees some three hundred feet downslope from the cabin.
“Whew!” gasped Jason. “I’d rather face one of those cats any day than a lawman and his posse!”
Relieved, the others agreed, rising to their feet.
“Lunch is ready, boys,” Kathryn said.
While Tag and the others were eating lunch, he was telling the women about his plan to rob the bank in Vernal, Utah, next. He explained why it was such a prosperous bank, according to the newspaper article he had read.
Kathryn Tully felt her nerves tighten. If it’s that prosperous, she thought, it will be well-guarded.
When Tag went on to say that sometime next year, he wanted to rob Salt Lake City’s two banks simultaneously, Kathryn’s stomach began to wrench. Try as she might, she was still having a horrible time giving in to living like this indefinitely.
She thought about Darryl Moran being killed as a result of the stagecoach robbery, and in her mind, she kept picturing Gib lying dead on a slab after he had been gunned down during a bank robbery. This was so real that it made her clench her fists underneath the table. She bit down hard in an effort to hide her feelings and shook away the panic that had bubbled up like acid in her chest.
While Tag was giving the details of his plan to rob the two Salt Lake City banks to the group, he ran his gaze to Kathryn’s face, and she did her best to disguise the turmoil that was going on inside her.
Tag could see that Kathryn was uncomfortable with the subject at hand, but said nothing to her.
Tag went on. “As I was telling the boys before the cougar showed up, since we haven’t hit any banks in southwest Wyoming, we’ll go there after the Vernal holdup. We’ll hit the banks in Evanston, Green River, and Rock Springs. We’ll do this next month, then hibernate here at the cabin for the winter.”
Tony Chacone was draining his coffee cup. Kathryn left the table, saying she would get him some more coffee. As she moved toward the stove where the coffeepot sat over the fire, she glanced out the kitchen window. What she saw made her heart bang her ribs. She stopped, looked back at the others. “There’s movement out there in the trees! Someone’s coming!”
Tony chuckled. “Aw, it’s just an ol’ mountain lion, Kathryn. He’s prowling around down there in the forest.”
Kathryn’s face was white with fear. She shook her head. “It’s no mountain lion. It’s a man on horseback, and he’s heading straight for the cabin. There’s got to be more men with him. It’s a posse as sure as anything!”
Suddenly all five men were on their feet, pulling their revol
vers, and charging toward the window.
Lucinda followed, her own face almost as pale as Kathryn’s.
Tag reached the window first and pressed his face close to the glass. “Hey! It’s no posse, Kathryn. It’s Doke Veatch! All of you remember that I told you he’d be coming up here to see us.”
Bart looked past Tag’s shoulder. “Whew! It’s Doke, all right. I’m sure glad it’s not a posse.”
Tag slid his gun back in its holster and hurried to the door. He stepped out on the porch, with the others on his heels, just as Doke drew up and pulled rein. He smiled. “Howdy, Tag. Howdy, Bart. Howdy, Jason.”
The Moran brothers bounded off the porch while Doke was dismounting, and each one shook his hand, saying how good it was to see him.
Tag took Doke by the arm, led him up the steps, and said, “Doke, I want you to meet Bart’s wife, Lucinda.”
Lucinda offered her hand. Doke took it, saying what a pleasure it was to meet her.
Tag then introduced him to Gib and Kathryn Tully, and to Tony Chacone.
When Doke had shaken hands with them, Tag said, “We were eating lunch when we saw you coming, Doke. You hungry?”
The Wells Fargo shotgunner patted his stomach. “Sure am.”
Moments later, they were seated at the table with fresh, hot coffee in their cups, and while the hungry Doke Veatch wolfed down his food, he and the Moran brothers talked about old times in their childhood.
When Darryl’s name came up, there was sadness on their faces.
Tag said, “Doke, I’ve been thinking about that doctor in Cheyenne.”
Doke swallowed a mouthful of chewed beans. “Uh-huh?”
“I still wonder if he let Darryl die because you told him Darryl was an outlaw.”
Doke shook his head. “I don’t think so. Darryl was already close to death when I carried him into the doctor’s office.”