One More Sunrise

by Al Lacy

  The next morning, Dane went to a stable and bought a horse. Soon he was at the hospital, and found Tharyn at the nurses’ station in the surgical wing. She explained that she had just finished assisting one of the doctors perform a surgery, and had a few minutes before she was to do another one.

  “I’ll walk with you to the door,” she said.

  “That would be great.”

  While they moved down the corridor that led to the lobby, Dane said, “Tharyn, I’ll be back to see you as soon as I can. I’m going to come to Denver as often as possible so we can have time together.”

  “I’ll look forward to every minute we can be together.”

  “Me too.”

  They had now entered the lobby and were headed toward the double glass doors that led to the street and the parking lot. When they drew up to the doors, Dane noted that they had some privacy at the moment.

  He moved close to her. “Could I hug you before I go?”

  “You sure can!”

  They enjoyed their brief embrace; then as Tharyn watched him pass through the doors and head for his newly purchased horse, she whispered, “I love you, Dane.”

  When Dane reached the horse, he looked back to see Tharyn watching him. She waved. He waved back, then mounted up.

  As he put the horse in motion, he waved at her one more time. When he reached the street and put the animal to a trot, he said in a soft voice, “Tharyn, you do something to my heart that no other girl has ever done.”

  It was a cold, brisk cloudless day and the sun was at its apex in the azure sky when Dr. Dane Logan rode into Central City and dismounted in front of Dr. Robert Fraser’s office on Monday, October 18.

  He dismounted, tied the reins to the hitch rail, and patted the horse’s neck. “Well, Pal, it’s time for me to get the wheels rolling so I can buy the practice. There’ll be a nice barn and corral for you at the boardinghouse, I’m sure.”

  Pal nickered softly and bobbed his head as if he understood.

  Dane stroked the horse’s long face. “You see why I named you Pal? You agree with everything I tell you.”

  Pal nickered again.

  Dane started around one end of the hitch rail and spoke to two older men who were passing by on the boardwalk. He was about to step up on the boardwalk, but when he looked up at the sign by the door, he stopped. Robert Fraser, M.D.

  A smile broke over his features. “Hmm. I’ll have to have a new sign made. ‘Dane Logan, M.D.’ Wow, does that sound good!”

  He glanced up and down the street, taking a moment to better familiarize himself with his new town. He patted his horse’s neck again. “Welcome home, Pal. Welcome home.”

  Pal nickered once more.

  When Dane opened the door and stepped into the office, Nadine Wahl smiled at him from behind her desk. “Hello, Dr. Logan. Welcome back.”

  He moved to the desk. “Thank you, Nadine. How are you today?”

  “Just fine, thank you.”

  “Is Dr. Fraser in?”

  “Mm-hmm. He’s with a patient at the moment, but he should be through shortly. He received your wire, of course, so he has left his calendar open the rest of the day so the two of you can go to the attorney’s office and finalize the sale of the practice.”

  At that moment, the door to the examining room opened, and Dr. Fraser emerged beside his patient. The man thanked him for his good care, paid Nadine, and left.

  Dr. Fraser smiled warmly. “Well, Dr. Logan, it’s lunchtime. How about I buy your lunch; then we’ll go see my attorney and make everything legal on the sale of the practice.”

  “We’ll do that, my friend,” said Dane, “but I will buy your lunch.”

  Fraser winked at Nadine. “How do you like that? His name isn’t even on the ownership papers yet, and he’s already bossing me around.”

  Nadine laughed. “I guess you’d better let him pay for lunch, Doctor.”

  It was just past 2:30 that afternoon when Nadine looked up from her desk to see the two doctors coming through the door. She smiled. “Well, that’s a pair o’ docs if I ever saw a pair o’ docs.”

  The doctors looked at each other and frowned.

  Dane said, “Pardon me, Mrs. Wahl, but a paradox is a statement that seems contrary to common sense, yet is perhaps true. We haven’t said anything yet.”

  “Yes,” said the silver-haired Fraser. “What are you talking about?”

  Nadine laughed. “Not P-A-R-A-D-O-X. Two doctors. Get it? A pair o’ docs.”

  Both men laughed.

  “Nadine,” said Fraser, “you’re a case; you know that?”

  She smiled. “Guess I am.”

  “But I’ll keep you around as long as I can,” said Dr. Dane.

  She smiled back. “That’s something we need to talk about, Dr. Logan. But right now, I want to know if the official papers have been signed and the earnest money on the practice has been paid.”

  “The papers are all signed, and the earnest money has been paid,” said Fraser. “In fact, because our young doctor did a hip replacement in Denver and was paid generously for it, I got more earnest money than I expected. If I hadn’t promised Dr. Dane I’d stick around, I’d take Esther on a cruise to Europe.”

  Nadine snickered. “Sure you would!”

  Fraser laughed, then looked at Dane. “In all seriousness, I will be at your side here at the office for the next several days just in case you need me. Even after that, as I already promised, I’ll be available whenever I’m needed. And, of course, there will be times when you have to take patients to the hospital in Denver to perform surgery on them, and you’ll need this old man to fill in for you.”

  Dane smiled. “This means more to me than I can ever tell you, Doctor. I’m sure I will need you often.”

  “Well, while we’re talking business,” said Nadine, “what I’d like to talk about, Dr. Logan, is my future here.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I’m putting some years on and I’ll be wanting to retire within the next year or so. I’m telling you now so you will have time to find another nurse to take my job.”

  “That’s fair enough, ma’am,” said Dr. Dane. “I’d rather keep you on, but I can understand why you want to retire.”

  Nadine smiled. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “Well,” spoke up the older man, “guess I’d better take you to your boardinghouse.”

  The doctors walked down the street together with Dane leading Pal. At the next intersection, they turned and walked a half-block to a white frame building.

  “This is it,” said Fraser. “There’s a nice barn and a small corral at the back for your horse.”

  “I figured so. I didn’t realize the boardinghouse would be this close to the office.”

  “Well, I could have reserved you a room at one of the other two boardinghouses in town, but they are not as nice as this one and they are both farther from the office.”

  “You’re a true gentleman, sir. You really are.”

  “I try,” Fraser said, grinning. “The lady who owns this place is a widow. Her husband died four years ago.”

  “I see.”

  They entered the front door, and Dr. Fraser led Dane into a small office. He introduced him to the owner, Laura Sparks, whom Dane figured was in her late fifties.

  Laura said, “I’m honored to have Central City’s new doctor living in my boardinghouse, Dr. Logan. Let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you your room.”

  Dr. Fraser accompanied them as they climbed the stairs to the second floor, and Laura guided Dr. Dane to his room. When she opened the door and stepped in ahead of the men, Dane was pleasantly surprised at the size of the room. It was more like two rooms.

  “Wow! Lots of space, Mrs. Sparks. I like it.”

  “This is my largest room, Dr. Logan. I was glad it was vacant when Dr. Fraser told me you were coming to town to take over his practice. I believe you will enjoy it.”

  “I know I will,” Dane said, moving in a little farther and run
ning his gaze around the room. “I’m very fortunate that it’s available.”

  It was a corner room, with windows facing both south and west. The clean windows sparkled in the sunlight. They were adorned with dark green draperies that could be pulled closed when needed.

  A large colorful rug lay in the center of the highly polished wooden floor. One end of the room was furnished with an upholstered sofa and matching chair. A mahogany desk and chair stood near one of the windows, and a small bookcase rested against the same wall.

  In the adjacent space was a large four-poster bed, covered with a green, rust, and cream counterpane. Beside the bed was a bedside table, and a step away was a mahogany dresser. A small fireplace was in one wall, already supplied with kindling and logs.

  “This is wonderful, Mrs. Sparks,” said the young physician. “I couldn’t ask for anything nicer than this.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy with it.”

  “I sure am. And Dr. Fraser told me you have a place where I can keep my horse.”

  “Sure do. Right out back. I keep hay and grain in the barn and there’s no extra charge. There’s a water tank too.”

  Dane smiled and shook his head. “Great!”

  “Breakfast is between six and eight each morning, and dinner is at six-thirty. Of course with your erratic schedule, Doctor, I’ll be happy to keep a plate of dinner in the warming oven, and you can feel free to eat whenever you come home. The dining room is on the first floor, just down the hall from the office.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Sparks. Well, I’m ready to move in!”

  Lucinda Moran and Kathryn Tully were pulling into Fort Collins to purchase groceries and supplies.

  Lucinda guided the team to a hitching post in front of Decker’s Clothing Store, a short distance down the street from the general store. When they climbed out of the wagon, they saw a small group of people on the boardwalk, gathered around a man who was holding a newspaper up for them to see the front page.

  They heard a woman in the group say happily, “Oh, I’m so glad to know that Moran gang is behind bars!”

  Lucinda and Kathryn looked at each other, eyes wide. They stepped up to the newspaper rack in front of the clothing store, which was stuffed with copies of the day’s edition of the Fort Collins Gazette. The bold headlines announced: TAG MORAN GANG APPREHENDED IN WYOMING!

  Lucinda quickly paid the attendant for a paper, and they moved down the boardwalk to look at it. Lucinda held the paper so they could both read it at the same time.

  Their hearts pounded as they read the story of how the gang had recently held up the banks in Vernal, Utah, and in Evanston and Green River, Wyoming. The article was careful to point out that in Vernal, Tag Moran had shot and killed a bank employee, and that he had also shot and killed a bank customer during the robbery in Evanston.

  The article went on to tell how on Tuesday, October 12, Chief U.S. Marshal John Brockman of Denver and three of his deputies—with the help of Sweetwater County Sheriff Mike Randall and his three deputies—got the drop on the Moran gang when they entered the Rock Springs bank to rob it. On page three, there were photographs of all five gang members.

  Continuing on page three, the article explained that the gang was being held in the Carbon County jail in Rawlins. Their trial was set for Thursday, October 21, over which federal judge George Yeager would preside. The article speculated that Tag Moran would hang for murder and that the rest of the gang would receive life sentences in the Wyoming Territorial Prison at Rawlins because they were in on robberies when people were killed.

  Kathryn and Lucinda looked at each other, their faces pale.

  With dry mouth, Lucinda said, “Kathryn, there’s nothing we can do. I’m sure glad we have plenty of money at the cabin.”

  Misty-eyed, Kathryn nodded. “With Bart and Gib in prison for the rest of their lives, all we can do is visit them as much as possible.”

  “Yes. That’s all we can do.”

  With heavy hearts, the two women bought groceries and supplies and headed back to the cabin.

  On that same afternoon, Buck Cummons pulled the stagecoach to a halt in front of the Wells Fargo office in Casper, Wyoming. When he and Doke Veatch entered the office, the Fargo agent showed them the day’s edition of the Casper Daily Sentinel, which had the same headlines and the same articles as the other newspapers in Wyoming, Colorado, and western Nebraska.

  As agent, driver, and shotgunner talked about the gang’s capture and fate, Doke swallowed hard. “I … I know what Tag did was wrong. He shouldn’t have killed those men, and he shouldn’t have been an outlaw in the first place. But I still owe him for saving my life.”

  Both agent and driver looked at Doke in amazement.

  Doke went on. “I’ll watch the news close, and if Tag really is sentenced to hang, I will have to ask for enough time off so I can go to the prison and see him before they hang him. I owe him that much.”

  Buck chuckled. “Doke, ol’ pal, you really are a true friend.”

  On Friday morning, October 22, Chief U.S. Marshal John Brockman was in his office talking to two of his deputies who had just returned from tracking down a man who had beaten his wife to death in Denver. The man was now in the Denver County Jail.

  John smiled. “Boys, you did an excellent job, and I commend you for it.”

  At that moment, there was a tap on the door, and Deputy Charlie Wesson stuck his head in. “Chief, I have a telegram for you.”

  “Come on in,” said Brockman. As Charlie entered the room, John noticed that his face was grim. “What’s wrong?”

  Charlie handed him the yellow envelope. “Well, Chief, the telegram is from Judge George Yeager in Rawlins. Since I was going to find out anyway, the Western Union messenger told me the contents of the telegram. It’s bad news. Go ahead and read it for yourself.”

  John looked at him warily as he tore the envelope open. He took out the telegram and began reading. He was pleased to learn that the gang members had been convicted by the jury yesterday. Witnesses had come from Vernal and Evanston to point out Tag Moran as the gang member who had shot and killed the two men. Tag had been sentenced to hang, and the other four were sentenced to life in the Wyoming Territorial Prison at Rawlins.

  John was stunned as he read what Charlie had referred to as bad news. Judge Yeager went on to tell him that when two of the Carbon county sheriff’s deputies were taking the gang members from the courthouse with the intention of walking them to the prison at gunpoint, a gunfight broke out on the street between a group of cattlemen and a group of sheep men. Bullets were flying, and being caught in the crossfire, one of the deputies was hit.

  The five gang members were wearing handcuffs, but the cuffs were in front of their bodies. In all of the confusion when the deputy went down, Tag Moran grabbed his gun and shot the other deputy, killing him. The gang quickly stole saddled horses at hitch rails on the street and escaped. The sheriff formed a posse and went after them, but they eluded the posse. The Tag Moran gang was now at large again.

  The judge’s wire went on to tell the chief U.S. marshal that since he now had photographs of the five gang members, he was having wanted posters printed up and would send them to law enforcement offices all over Wyoming, Colorado, and western Nebraska to be posted in conspicuous places in their towns.

  Brockman dropped the lengthy telegram on his desktop and sighed. “I sure hate to hear that those no-goods are loose again. At this time, I don’t have the manpower at my disposal to go after them. All the other deputies are out on assignments, and I already have pressing new assignments for you two fellas who just got back.”

  On Saturday afternoon, Dr. Dane Logan rode into Denver. It was cold and overcast, and it smelled like snow when he dismounted in the parking lot at Mile High Hospital. He had thought about writing to Tharyn earlier in the week to let her know that he was coming to see her on Saturday, but he didn’t want to get her hopes up and then have something happen on Saturday to prevent his coming. In the doct
oring business, nothing was ever certain, including his free time.

  When Dr. Dane approached the nurses’ station in the surgical wing, he was told that Nurse Tabor was assisting a doctor in surgery and would be for at least another half hour. He then headed for the doctor’s lounge and poured himself a steaming mug of coffee.

  He was just about to sit down when he saw Dr. Tim Braden enter the room. When Braden saw him, he smiled and said, “Well, hello, Dr. Logan! What brings you here?”

  “I just rode down from Central City to spend some time with Tharyn. Right now, she’s assisting in surgery.”

  Pouring coffee into two mugs, Tim smiled. “You and Tharyn are really good friends, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, we are. She’s one fine young lady.”

  Tim started to say something else, but thought better of it. “Well, I’ve got to meet Dr. Carroll in his office, so I’m taking him a cup of coffee too. See you soon, I hope.”

  “Me too,” replied Dane. “Tell Melinda hello for me, okay?”

  “Sure will.” With that, Dr. Tim was gone.

  For some twenty-five minutes, Dr. Dane perused a medical book that lay on a small table, then returned to the nurses’ station. Tharyn was just coming down the corridor from the surgical washroom when she spotted Dane and rushed toward him. He saw her coming and hurried to meet her.

  Smiling, Tharyn took hold of both Dane’s hands. “Oh, I’m so glad you could come!”

  “Well, it’s only because Dr. Fraser is kind enough to be on call if someone up there needs a doctor. May I take you out for supper?”

  Her smile widened. “You sure can. Papa is coming from home to pick me up since the bank’s not open on Saturday. He’ll be here at five o’clock as usual. He can ride your horse back home and we’ll use his buggy.”

  At precisely five o’clock, David Tabor arrived, and the switch was made.

  The restaurant was crowded, as it usually was on Saturday nights, and light snow was blanketing the streets of Denver. When they moved inside, Tharyn rubbed her hands together. “Oh, it feels good in here!”

  The hostess knew Tharyn, and even though the place was busy, she found a corner table by a bay window. Dane seated Tharyn, then sat down across the table so he could look at her. After they had given their orders to a waitress, Tharyn asked how his first week as Central City’s physician had gone. While Dane told her some stories from the week’s activity, they watched the lazy snowflakes falling from the leaden sky. They were so engrossed in each other and their conversation that they failed to notice the Brockman family sitting at a nearby table.