by J. T. Edson
“Do it, Adek!” Vaza said. “Please do it.”
“Remember, Adek,” warned Jarrel. “It was performing such an operation that first aroused suspicions in Salem.”
“Hell, fire, Jarrel!” Dusty growled. “We’ve advanced some since then. It’s almost two hundred years back that happened. Go ahead, if you reckon you can help him, Adek. I’ve seen men taken that way before and both times they died.”
“Can you do it, mister?” asked the second cowhand. “Of course. An appendectomy is a simple operation and I have all I need in the wagon.”
“Doc’s office is right along the street, mister,” the townsman said. “His missus’ll let you use it.”
“Then we will take him there after I have put him under sedation,” Adek declared.
“How’s that, mister?” asked one of the cowhands.
“Make him sleep,” snapped the old man. “Vaza, bring me all we will need. You must assist me.”
“Of course,” the girl agreed and disappeared into the wagon.
“How’d you plan to put him to sleep?” Dusty inquired.
“With a—drug,” replied Adek.
“He can’t drink it,” Dusty pointed out.
“Nor will need to, although it is soluble in liquid and can be used that way. Have no fear, Dusty, I know what I am doing.”
“If I doubted that, I’d stop you,” Dusty informed the old man.
Carrying a small box and a bottle, Vaza left the wagon and hurried to Adek’s side. She knelt alongside the groaning, writhing cowhand, removed the cap from the bottle and poured a small quantity of the powder through his open lips. After a few seconds, the moaning died off and writhing ended, until the cowhand lay still and apparently in a deep sleep.
“Now you can move him in safety,” Adek told the waiting men. “He will sleep long enough, and feel nothing, for me to do my work.”
“That’s mighty potent stuff,” Dusty remarked. “Does it take much to make a man sleep?”
“Varying amounts,” the girl answered, stoppering the bottle. “It all depends upon the length of time one wishes the receiver to sleep.”
Watching the two cowhands and a couple of townsmen raise the still form, a thought struck Dusty. Given a dose of that stuff, a man would sleep through any disturbance—even brightly flashing lights close by his bed.
Fourteen – The Peaceful Valley
After listening to Dusty’s story, the sheriff dropped his eyes to the bundle of clothing, cheap trinkets and knife on his desk, then raised them again to study the small Texan.
“I’ll pass them on to the reservation agent as soon as I can.”
“Is that all you intend to do?” Jarrel, standing at Dusty’s side, asked.
“Just what had you in mind for me to do?” inquired the lawman, turning his gaze from Dusty to Jarrel.
“There were at least two more Indians present. Do you not intend to make an effort to find them before they attack some other travelers?”
“You tell me what to do, and dog-my-cats if I don’t go on out and try it,” growled the sheriff. “What’s the first move, mister?”
“You could try to locate the two by learning who owned this clothing and the trinkets we brought to you.”
“Sure I could, never would have thought of it all on my own and without help though,” said the sheriff, his voice as tired as his face and general appearance. “Thing being, where’d I find out from?”
“Among the Indians on the reservation,” Jarrel suggested.
“Mister,” the sheriff said patiently. “I don’t know what kind of Injuns you’re used to, but the kind around here just don’t talk to a white lawman. Happen you hadn’t buried that one Cap’n Fog shot, we might have found somebody who knew him and could say which of his pards rode with him last night. Even then proving it might not be easy. Could you recognize either of ’em again?”
“I could not,” admitted Jarrel. “Perhaps Dusty could.”
“Not to swear to in court,” Dusty said.
“Then there is nothing you can do, sheriff?”
“Like I said, tell me what and I’ll have a go at doing it. I don’t want any young buck thinking he can use my county for his war trials. And don’t say send a posse out. I just don’t have the men to spare right now. I’ve just come in and all my deputies are out hunting for four prisoners that broke from a wagon taking them over for trial by Judge Parker at Fort Smith.”
“Anybody special, sheriff?” asked Dusty.
“Special and choice,” the lawman replied. “Least some of them. Vic Tetley’s the choicest, only he took a bullet during the escape. Then there’s a half-breed called Javelina that the Rangers run out of Texas. Which same, Cap’n, happen you know any Rangers, ask ’em to run any more they don’t want down south, we’ve enough of our own. The other two aren’t so choice, Buck-Eye Baise and Tom Moon.”
“I’ve heard tell of Javelina,” Dusty drawled. “The others don’t mean much to me though.”
“Tetley’s real smart, especially at opening locks. Fact being he opened an Army paymaster’s safe and got away with maybe ten thousand dollars that wasn’t recovered. Could be that’s why the others helped him off after he took lead. Moon and Baise don’t run to brains, most likely the other two only took them along to keep them quiet.”
“Which way have they gone?” Dusty asked.
“The Lord knows, and he’s not giving any sign. We hadn’t trailed them but two miles when we lost their tracks.”
“That figures. Javelina’s smarter than a tree full of hoot-owls when it comes to hiding sign. Was ii a planned escape do you reckon?”
“If it was, they planned bad,” the sheriff grunted. “They’d’ve had horses close to hand, which they hadn’t. They was still afoot when we lost them.”
“That’s bad,” Dusty breathed.
“Real bad,” agreed the sheriff. “And that’s why I can’t take time to go out hunting a pair of bucks who’ll be back on the reservation by now, where I can’t touch ’em even if I knew ’em.”
“I don’t follow you,” Jarrel put in.
“It’s like I explained one night,” Dusty told him. “An Indian reservation’s Government land and comes under Federal law. A county sheriff has no jurisdiction on it.”
“You explained it,” Jarrel agreed. “I still do not fully understand your complicated legal system.”
“Don’t let that worry you, friend,” said the sheriff. “Even the folks who made it don’t understand it.”
“Let’s go, Jarrel,” Dusty remarked. “Thanks for the time, sheriff.”
“Sure, Cap’n Fog,” the sheriff answered and held his hand towards Jarrel. “I’m sorry I jumped you, friend, only I’m a mite tuckered out. I only came in here to put up my shotgun before going home for some sleep then taking off out after Tetley’s bunch again.”
“I understand, sheriff,” Jarrel replied, shaking hands then turning to follow Dusty from the office.
“I don’t like it, Jarrel, and that’s for sure,” Dusty said as they returned to the wagon. “Those escaped prisoners want food, a change of clothing, horses and guns. Unless they’ve got some hid away, they’re going to have to steal some.”
“There is danger to us?”
“Not as long as we keep our eyes open. I reckon that they’ll head for the nearest Indian reservation and hide up, or look for some outlaw hang-out.”
“They could not travel far with a wounded man,” Jarrel pointed out.
“That’s something that puzzles me,” Dusty drawled. “I can’t see men on the run from trial by ‘Hanging’ Judge Parker trailing a wounded man along, yet they did.”
“Loyalty perhaps?” Jarrel suggested.
“Not where Javelina’s concerned. Anyways, we’ll just take turns at standing guard every night until we’re well clear. Three more days should see us at Bent’s Ford arid after that we’ll have no need to worry.”
“No. With your friend on hand there will be no danger.�
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“Not from a bunch that small,” grinned Dusty and wondered what his two all but inseparable amigos would say when they heard he planned to marry and settle down. “I wonder how Adek’s getting on?”
Almost as the words left Dusty’s mouth, a wild cowhand yell rang out along the street, followed by a couple of shots. Jarrel swung around, his face coming as close as Dusty could remember ever seeing it to showing emotion. Down the street a small knot of people crowded towards the front of a house. Judging by the shingle hanging outside the building, Dusty judged it to be the doctor’s house. To confirm the idea, he saw Adek and Vaza emerge to be surrounded.
“We must help them!” Jarrel growled.
“Yahoo!” whooped a voice and another shot rang out, its cloud of powder-smoke going into the air. “Ole Joey’s going to be all right.”
“They don’t need help,” Dusty drawled. “Cowhands tend to cut loose good and noisy when they’re happy.” Certainly the crowd showed no hostility as they accompanied Adek and Vaza towards the wagon. While Linton’s citizens often found themselves at odds with celebrating cowhands, the nearness of death made past differences forgotten and all present joined the two young men in the excited delight that the sick man would live.
“The doc here fixed ole Joey up good, friend,” the cowhand announced and turned to Adek. “Doc, would it be agin your ways to take a drink?”
“I’m afraid it would,” smiled Adek.
Normally such a refusal might have been met with derision if nothing worse, but none of the crowd thought anything wrong in Adek’s abstemious habits.
“Well, we’re just going to have one to you,” grinned the second cowhand. “Yes, sir, Doc. And happen you go out to the herd, the boss’ll see to anything you want.
We’ve not got much mon—”
“I want nothing, young man,” Adek interrupted. “Now we must be on our way.”
“But we wanted to thank you properly,” objected the first young man.
“Knowing your friend will live is all the thanks I need,” Adek said and Dusty formed the impression that the old man wanted to get away in a hurry. “I have left instructions for his future treatment. He will be well, but unable to ride for some time.”
“We’ll pick him up on the way south,” the cowhand answered. “Come on, gents, let’s go and drink to a real good doctor.”
Throwing more praise in Adek’s direction, the cowhands led the townsmen off in the direction of the saloon. After watching the men go, Adek turned to Dusty and suggested that they left immediately if possible.
“There’s nothing to stop us,” Dusty replied. “But why the rush, Adek?”
“You know what I have done?” asked the old man.
“Saved a man’s life,” Dusty replied. “I’ve seen two men hit by the same illness that cowhand had, and both died. There was a doctor on hand for one of them and he couldn’t save the man.”
“But it was only appendicitis,” Vaza objected.
“That might be an ‘only’ back at your home, honey,” Dusty told her. “But out here it’s a killer.” Then a thought struck him, although he tried to fight it down.
“I am competent to operate for such a thing and, as long as my instructions are followed, the young man will make a recovery,” Adek remarked, answering Dusty’s unspoken doubts.
“Then why do you want to leave so fast?” asked Dusty bluntly.
“I act for the best, my friend,” Adek replied. “When the doctor returns, he will see and realize what I have done and wish to ask questions. Even if he does not, other people will hear of the cure and come expecting to receive treatment. That was what happened in Salem.”
“How do you mean?”
“The party Vaza told you about. One was a doctor and the cures he effected seemed miraculous to the people of the town, for they were far beyond the primitive medical knowledge of the time. So some claimed it to be witchcraft and three of the party died.”
“That won’t happen today,” Dusty growled.
“Have your people advanced so far, Dusty?” countered Adek. “This is a violent land—”
“But we’ve grown past believing in witches and magic spells,” Dusty replied.
“Probably,” smiled the old man. “But take the word of one who has some small experience in these things. If we stay here until the doctor returns, there will be questions asked and the answers may not prove satisfactory. I have done as much as I dared for that young man. More and—well, let us say your people might have thought I performed a miracle. Trust me, Dusty. Believe me when I say that the young man will live. Now let us go, for to stay will bring only complications and possible disaster.”
“Please do as Adek says, Dusty,” Vaza put in, her eyes on the small Texan’s face. “Please, for me.”
If anything could have persuaded Dusty, it was the girl’s request. He reached out and laid a gentle hand on the old man’s shoulder. “I believe you, Adek, and apologies for doubting you. Besides, the sooner we leave, the quicker we reach Texas—and that can’t come soon enough for me.”
With that, Dusty helped the girl into the wagon and watched the men climb aboard. Mounting his paint, he rode alongside his friends and watched by a few people of the town, the party headed south.
In view of Adek’s concern, Dusty raised no objections to the pace Jarrel set once clear of the town. While riding, Dusty turned over in his head the events of the morning and found himself, as he so often had during the journey, more puzzled at the end than before he started. Every instinct he possessed told him that Adek would never have offered to help unless sure that he could do nothing but good. Yet the old man claimed to be a historian, not a doctor. While not knowing what appendicitis might be, Dusty guessed that Adek had performed an operation that might have tried the ability of many a prominent eastern surgeon.
During the War Dusty had seen many wounded men and listened to Army surgeons discuss the difficulty of operating upon the interior of the body. One of the major difficulties of such an operation was rendering the patient sufficiently unconscious so as to ensure that pain did not drive through and bring about any premature return to consciousness. Chloroform, as developed in the United States in 1831 by Samuel Guthrie, was dangerous in that judging the correct amount could not be done accurately and an over-dose proved fatal. Nitrous oxide, laughing gas, was just as uncertain in effect. To Dusty’s knowledge, no drug known to America’s medical science could have equaled the way the powder used by Adek worked.
Once again Dusty found the old question pounding at him. Who were his three companions? From what country did they come? Why had not word leaked out of their remarkable scientific developments? He could find no answer and promised himself that he would force the issue, throw aside his objections to prying into other people’s affairs and satisfy his curiosity at the earliest opportunity.
The opportunity did not come for some time. Pushing their horses hard, the party covered almost fifteen miles during the afternoon and might have made more. They had left the trail and travelled across country once more, relying on Dusty’s sense of direction to point them towards Bent’s Ford. Topping a slope, Jarrel drew rein to let his team catch their breath, and the party looked down into a valley.
“It’s beautiful!” Vaza breathed, looking down the wooded slopes to the flower-dotted bottom of the valley, then following the crystal-clear stream which ran through to disappear in bushes heavy with cranberries. “We must stay here for the night. Can we, please?”
“I’m with you, honey,” Dusty drawled. “But I’m more interested in that buffalo-grass down there than how the place looks. The horses need a chance to graze well after a haul like we made today. I reckon we’ve put enough distance between us and Linton, Adek.”
“Very well,” the old man replied. “Here is where we camp for the night.”
While the man cared for the horses, with Dusty showing the other two those extra details necessary with a hard-pushed, lathered team, Vaza slip
ped away and disappeared into the bushes. At first Dusty thought nothing of the girl’s departure, then after she had been away far longer than necessary for what he imagined took her out of sight, he became concerned.
“Vaza!” he shouted. “Where are you?”
“Here,” came the girl’s voice. “Come and see what I have found.”
“Go,” smiled Adek tolerantly. “You have shown Jarrel and I all we need to know and we can manage now.”
“We can,” agreed Jarrel. “But do not stay away too long, I dislike cooking.”
“We dislike you having to cook,” Adek commented; the first time Dusty had heard anything approaching humor from the old man.
“It could be worse,” Dusty warned. “You might have me cooking for you.”
With that he headed for the bushes and looked around for the girl. Not until Vaza called again did Dusty locate her and when he came into sight of the girl, he could hardly believe his eyes.
Vaza stood by a bush looking in his direction and smiling. Cradled in her arms, she held an almost full-grown raccoon and, to Dusty’s surprise it seemed to accept the treatment. Not until the coon saw Dusty approaching did it show any signs of alarm. Even then it only struggled gently in Vaza’s grasp.
“Drop it before it bites you?” Dusty snapped, knowing just how hard a coon that size could use its teeth.
“Why should it bite me?” Vaza replied, looking down at the masked face of the coon. “I mean it no harm.”
With that she set the animal down on the ground and it waddled away leisurely in the direction of the stream. Vaza advanced to meet Dusty, her eyes sparkling in the way he had come to love.
“I came on the coon just before it found a bird’s nest,” she said. “The eggs are just about to hatch and I couldn’t let him eat them, although I suppose as a trained scientist I should not have interfered. In fact until I met you, I would not have thought of interference in such a basic matter. Look. ”
Smiling tolerantly, Dusty followed the direction the girl pointed and saw a catbird’s nest among the foliage of a bush. The birds fluttered in the background, making the mewing sound which gave them their name.