by Al Lacy
“I hope so, because if he ever does it again, he’s gonna wish he’d never been born.”
Tharyn’s brow furrowed. “Dora hasn’t come to the office, Marshal. Is she all right?”
“Mm-hmm. She wasn’t hurt bad enough to need a doctor’s attention.”
“That’s good.”
Merrell nodded. “Well, Len and I have to keep moving. Stop by whenever you can, Doctor, and tell us the whole story. We’ll be looking forward to it.”
Both lawmen tipped their hats to Tharyn and moved on down the street.
As Dane and Tharyn entered the office, she looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost one-thirty, darling. Mrs. Southard has an appointment at one-thirty.”
“All right. And what other appointments do we have this afternoon?”
Tharyn named five other people who had appointments just as Mrs. Southard came through the door.
EIGHT
Captain Darrell Redmond was leading a cavalry unit of thirty men in the high country south and a bit west of Fort Junction as the sun in the Colorado sky passed its apex and began its normal slant downward. They were following tracks made in the soft ground by a band of Indians, whose horses wore no horseshoes.
Riding at Redmond’s side was Lieutenant Rex Farley, and just behind them were Sergeants Jim Thatcher and Grant Connors. At the rear of the column were two wagons. Each one carried a .58-caliber Gatling machine gun, and a trooper to man it.
All around them lay a vast sweep of sunken gorges, above which stood towering timber-clad mountains.
As they entered a dense forest, Captain Redmond turned to Lieutenant Rex Farley and said, “Even though some of the men at the fort have said they think these latest acts of violence against the ranchers here in the mountains are being led by Chief Tando, I insist they are wrong. Tando meant business when he signed that peace treaty. When we run these bloody savages down, we’ll find they’re renegades, led by either Chief Yukana or Chief Antono … or both.”
“I agree, Captain,” said Farley. “I know Chief Tando was a renegade himself for a long time, but I don’t think he could be that good an actor. He certainly seemed sincere when he signed that treaty, and it was obvious that there was a genuine respect in his heart for Dr. Logan for having saved his son’s life.”
Soon they were nearing the south edge of the forest, and suddenly both officers saw two pillars of black smoke in the distance just as Sergeant Jim Thatcher spurred his horse up beside Redmond and shouted, “Captain, look! Those Indians are at it again, for sure! Two fires!”
By that time, every man in the column had his attention on the pillars of smoke. One was off to their left, and the other directly ahead of them. What was actually burning could not be seen.
Redmond drew rein and signaled for the column to halt. He studied the ground and saw that the hoofprints of the Indian band had split into two bands … one heading to the left, and the other moving straight ahead.
Redmond hipped around in the saddle. “Maybe we can catch the culprits this time. Lieutenant Farley, you take your half of the men and go see what you can find at the ranch up there on the left. I’ll take the other half and head for the one directly ahead.”
Farley made a snappy salute. “Yes, sir! Let’s go, men!”
Soon Farley and his troops topped a steep hill where they could get a clear look at the ranch house that was aflame. The lieutenant put his horse to a faster run.
Every man had his eyes running from side to side, watching for any sign of the hostiles.
When they rode into the yard, there were two bodies lying facedown on the ground between a pair of trees some twenty yards from the house.
“Keep your eyes peeled, men,” shouted the lieutenant as he slid from the saddle. Sergeant Connors hurried on Farley’s heels toward the man and woman who lay on the ground with bullet holes in their backs.
When Captain Redmond and his troopers rode into the yard of the burning ranch house, they saw the rancher and his wife lying on the ground near the front porch, blood soaking their clothing, and two teenage boys lying beside them.
While the majority of the men kept their eyes on the surroundings for any sign of Indians, Captain Redmond and Sergeant Jim Thatcher left their saddles and hurried to the victims. It took only seconds to see that the rancher was alive, but the rest of his family was dead.
The heat from the blazing house was unbearable. Redmond called for two more men to help Thatcher carry the bodies away from the heat while he bent down and picked up the rancher. They carried the bodies some thirty yards from the house, and Redmond laid the rancher down next to the body of his wife, and said, “Sir, can you hear me?”
The rancher made a grunting sound, looked up at the uniformed man with dull, unfocused eyes, and nodded. “Yes. I … can hear you.”
“I’m Captain Darrell Redmond. We’re from Fort Junction.”
The rancher nodded again. “My—my wife and—boys. Are they—?”
“I’m sorry, sir. They’re dead. It was Indians, wasn’t it?”
The rancher swallowed with difficulty. “Yes. Utes.”
“Do you have any idea where they were from?”
“I—I know who was—was leading them, because one of the savages called him by name.”
“Who was it?”
“Chief Yukana.”
Redmond looked at Thatcher and the other two men who stood over them. “Renegade, all right. Yukana.” He looked back down at the wounded rancher. “Sir, there’s a doctor in Central City. I’ll have a couple of my men take you there.”
The rancher’s eyes were closed, and there was no more rise and fall of his chest.
The captain took hold of his arm. “Sir? Sir?” He bent over and put an ear close to the rancher’s lips, then slid his hand down to the wrist, feeling for a pulse. After a few seconds, he looked at the other men. “He’s dead.”
At that moment, one of the men on horseback called out, “Captain, Lieutenant Farley and the other men are coming.”
“Good,” said Redmond. “We’ll get on Yukana’s trail right now. That’s five ranches in two days!”
At Chief Tando’s village some ten miles farther south, one of the warriors walking along the north edge of the village saw a large band of Indians coming from the north and called out to the others milling about that Ute riders were coming.
Moments later, Chief Yukana and twenty-four of his warriors came riding in, and were met by over a hundred warriors. Yukana asked to see Chief Tando, and was told that the chief and a few warriors had gone deer hunting that morning and had not returned.
Keeping his voice pleasant, Yukana told them he wanted to talk to Chief Tando. It was explained to him that the hunting party had gone in a northwesterly direction, and should be returning soon. Yukana thanked them, saying that he would try to find them so he could have a brief talk with Chief Tando, and they rode out.
The afternoon sun was almost halfway down the western sky when Chief Tando and his ten men were draping the carcasses of three dead deer over the backs of horses that had been brought along for that very purpose.
Subchief Nandano caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and focused on a large band of Utes riding toward them from the southeast. He called to Chief Tando, pointing them out, and said that the lead rider looked like Chief Yukana.
Tando took a deep breath. “It is Yukana, indeed.”
When Chief Yukana and his band drew up, Tando and Nandano moved toward them, and they could both see that Yukana was not smiling.
The rest of Chief Tando’s warriors stepped up behind him as he raised his hand to welcome Yukana and his men.
Yukana slid from his horse, stepped up to Tando, and said gruffly, “I wish to speak to you.”
Chief Tando took a step closer and made a half-smile. “Of course. What is it about?”
Yukana’s lips made a bitter curve against the bleak landscape of his cheeks. His thin, dark eyebrows pulled together over his angry eyes, a
nd as he spoke, his voice was edged with indignation. “Word has leaked out from my Ute friends in a village near the village of Chief Ouray that Chief Tando has turned traitor and signed a peace treaty with the white government. Tell me. Is it true?”
“It is true that I signed a peace treaty, but not that I am a traitor.”
Yukana’s eyes bulged. “You are traitor just like Ouray and Ute chiefs like him who give in to the whites who come here without invitation, steal our land, and kill our game for their own bellies.”
Tando slowly raised a palm toward Yukana. “I finally came to my senses and realized that all whites do not hate Indians. I made peace because of kindness some whites have shown toward us. I also told myself that since the number of white men is much larger than the number of Indians, that to continue fighting them would only result in more of my warriors being killed. The white man’s army has far better weapons than do we. Especially because they have the Gatling guns that spit bullets so quickly. It is foolish to continue fighting them. Our people live better when we are at peace with them. The people of my village are very glad to be living in peace with the whites. Chief Ouray tried to get me to see this many grasses ago, but I was too stubborn to listen. I am glad that I finally came to my senses.”
The venom in Chief Yukana suffused his cheeks with a bright-red tide of blood. His eyes flashed as he said, “I will not fight you, Chief Tando, because you are my Ute brother. I am ashamed of you and the other Ute chiefs who have turned traitor, but though it makes me angry, I will not fight you.”
With that, Yukana wheeled, stomped angrily to his horse, and trotted northward, his warriors following on their horses. Tando cupped a hand beside his mouth and shouted, “Chief Yukana! Do not forget that the white man’s army has much greater weapons than you do!”
Yukana did not look back.
Chief Tando and his men kept their eyes on Yukana and his warriors until they topped a ridge some three miles away, and disappeared.
They turned to the three horses who bore the dead deer, and started tying them in place, when all of a sudden, there was the sound of gunfire. Rifles barked, white men shouted battle cries, and Indians whooped as they fought back. Tando and his men stared at the ridge, seeing none of the action, then looked at each other when above the sounds of the barking rifles, they heard the deep-throated .58-caliber Gatling guns.
Soon the gunfire stopped.
Nandano laid a gentle hand on Chief Tando’s shoulder and said, “I am glad you made peace with the white man’s government. We are living better lives now.”
The other men agreed.
They finished tying the carcasses of the deer to the packhorses, mounted up, and rode toward their village.
It was almost four o’clock in Central City when Dr. Dane Logan finished with his sixth scheduled patient for the afternoon. He was standing over Tharyn at her desk, talking about the patient who had just left, when they both saw a big husky man in his late forties stagger past the large front window, holding his right jaw.
When the man opened the door and stepped in, Tharyn knew by the black dust on his face and clothing that he was employed at the Holton Coal Mine just west of town. He was still holding his right jaw, and it was obvious that he was in a great deal of pain.
As Dr. Dane moved toward him, the miner said in words that could hardly be understood, “Dogter Logad, do you rebeber be? I was one of the men who was trabbed with you in the mine in July.”
Dane’s mind flashed back to the hot day in July when there had been an explosion at the mine, and how he went to the mine to do what he could for the injured miners. He had gone down into the mine to care for men who were injured and were unable to make their way out, and while down there—because of a cave-in—became trapped himself.
Smiling, the doctor said, “Sure, I remember you. Your first name is Rudy. I don’t think I ever heard your last name.”
Keeping his hand to his jaw, the miner said, “By las’ dame is Louden.”
Dr. Dane said, “I could understand you better if you weren’t pushing so hard on your jaw. What happened to it?”
The miner eased up on the pressure he was putting on his jaw. “My last name is Louden. Nothin’ really happened to my jaw. It’s actually a tooth that’s givin’ me the pain. One of the men at the mine told me that like Dr. Fraser, you work on teeth since there isn’t a dentist this side of Denver.”
Dr. Dane nodded. “I have pulled a few teeth, but I’m not as good at it as a dentist would be.”
“There ain’t no way I can go to Denver, Doctor. Will you help me?”
“I’ll sure try. Let’s go into the back room.”
Tharyn looked at her husband. “Would you like for me to come, too?”
“Please. I just might need you.”
Tharyn followed as the doctor led the suffering miner into the back room. He pointed to a straight-backed wooden chair that stood in front of an outside window where sunshine was shining through, and said, “Sit down on that chair.”
While Tharyn looked on, the doctor went to the medicine cabinet and took the dental forceps and a headband mirror out of a drawer. He placed the mirror on his head, doused the forceps in alcohol, then moved to the miner and positioned himself so he could reflect the sunlight from the window into his mouth with the mirror. “All right, Rudy, open your mouth as wide as you can.”
Rudy let out a groan as he opened his mouth. Dr. Dane looked in and studied what he saw closely. “Rudy, your upper gums are swollen on the right side, and they’re oozing pus. It looks like the second molar is the problem. I’d say it’s abscessed. But it could be the first molar.” He raised the forceps toward Rudy’s mouth. “I’m going to tap on the second molar with the forceps. If it is the second molar, it’s going to hurt. Would you rather I anesthetize you first?”
Rudy shook his head. “Naw. Go ahead and tap on it. I can take it.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. Go ahead.”
Dr. Dane tapped on the second molar with the forceps.
Rudy jerked, howled, sprang out of the chair, and jumped up and down, while holding a hand to his jaw. Dane looked at Tharyn, who simply shook her head.
When Rudy settled down, Dr. Dane said, “It’s the second molar, all right. You sure you want it pulled?”
The big husky man still held his hand to his jaw. “Yeah. I want it pulled.”
“All right. Sit back down. But I strongly suggest that I use an anesthetic first.”
Rudy plopped onto the chair, shaking his head vehemently. “No! If it got out that I allowed you to use anesthetic, the guys at the mine would never let me live it down. I can’t be thought of as a sissy!”
Dr. Dane sighed. “Rudy, I understand this virile, rugged, masculine stuff. I used to live as a teenage orphan on the streets of New York City, so I know about your need to protect your he-man image. But this tooth is terribly infected. The infection goes all the way into the bone. I don’t think you have any idea just how painful this extraction is going to be. And when I get the tooth out, I’ll need to suture the wound in order to minimize the danger of more infection. If it were me, no matter what … I’d take all the anesthetic I could get.”
Rudy shook his head again. “Doc, in my lifetime, I’ve had a lot of serious injuries. Why, one time about five years ago, I had to set my own broken leg. This here tooth pullin’ can’t be as bad as that. Go ahead and yank it out.”
Dr. Dane sighed. “Well, Rudy, it sounds like you know what pain is all about, but a minute ago when I tapped on that second molar, you hollered like a wild man. When I pull it, it’s going to hurt a hundred times as bad. You’d better let me use the anesthetic.”
Rudy shook his big head. “No, sir! I’m not givin’ those guys at the mine any excuse to call me a sissy. As sure as anything, if I let you give me somethin’ to ease the pain, they’d find it out. I’d never in this lifetime live it down.”
“Tharyn and I would never tell anybody.”
&
nbsp; The crusty miner shook his head again. “It’d still get out somehow. Let’s get on with it. I’m ready when you are.”
“Okay. Go over there to the wash basin and wash your face real good. I don’t want any coal dust getting in your mouth.”
Rudy left the chair and did as the doctor had said. When that was done, the lack of a dental chair was overcome by the use of two straight-backed wooden chairs, one behind the other.
Tharyn stood by, ready to help if needed, as her husband placed Rudy on the first chair, then stood just behind him to the right, placing his left foot on the seat of the second chair.
“All right, Rudy,” said the doctor, “lay your head back on my knee.”
When this was done, Dr. Dane put his left arm around the patient’s head and grasped his chin with his left hand. “This will give me leverage so I can hold your head still, leaving my right hand and arm free to handle the forceps.”
“Makes sense,” Rudy grunted.
“I’ll give you one more chance to let me administer anesthetic.”
“No means no, Doc.”
Tharyn moved to where Rudy could see her. “Mr. Louden, my husband is only trying to save you some suffering.”
“I understand, ma’am, but I can’t let anybody ever think I’m a sissy. Do it, Doc.”
Dr. Dane looked once again at the swollen gums. “Okay, Rudy. Brace yourself.”
He pressed the tip of the forceps into Rudy’s mouth and got a grip on the tooth. He gave a forceful yank, but the forceps slipped off, causing a powerful stab of pain.
Rudy stiffened as he ejected a wild scream, grabbed the doctor’s left arm, then still screaming, fell on the floor. He rolled back and forth, holding his jaw and emitting loud groans and grunts.
Forceps in hand, Dr. Dane dropped to his knees and tried to hold the big man still. He was able to force his mouth open and almost got a grip on the tooth with the forceps, but Rudy was sixty pounds heavier than the doctor, and he could not hold him still.
“Rudy!” Dr. Dane said sharply. “Hold still! Let me get a grip on that tooth and pull it before this gets worse!”