Assault of the Mountain Man

CHAPTER NINE

Cal ran into the bank with his pistol drawn. The bank teller raised a shotgun to his shoulder and aimed at Cal.

“Mr. Martin, no!” Tamara shouted. “He’s with me!”

Martin lowered the shotgun.

Distracted by the shotgun, Cal had not seen Sally. Looking over toward the wall, he saw her and the bank owner, lying on the floor. “Miss Sally!” Cal moved quickly to her side, then knelt down beside her.

“How is Mr. Flowers?” Sally asked, her voice weak.

Cal looked toward Flowers and saw that he was dead. But before he could respond to Sally, she passed out.

“We need a doctor!” Cal said. “Is there a doctor in this town?”

“Yes,” Tamara said. “His office is down the street, just over the hardware store!”

Cal didn’t have to go all the way down to the doctor’s office. The doctor was across the street looking at the man who had fired the shotgun.

“How’s the sheriff ?” one of those gathered around the doctor said.

“He’s dead.” The doctor looked at the man on the ground and shook his head. “Poor Mr. Deckert is too.”

“What about the outlaw?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t checked on him yet.”

“Doctor, quick!” Cal called. “There’s a woman in the bank who’s been shot and is still alive!”

“A woman was shot?” one of the people in the crowd said. “You mean those no count sons of bitches shot a woman?”

“The outlaw can wait. Where is the woman?” the doctor asked, carrying his bag and starting toward Cal.

“She’s in the bank, on the floor. The owner of the bank, he’s there too, but he’s dead.”

“That’s three,” someone said. “Three, they kilt. And like as not, the woman is goin’ to die too.”

“No!” Cal shouted angrily. “Miss Sally is not going to die! Do you hear me? She is not going to die!”

When Cal and the doctor stepped into the bank, Tamara was on her knees beside Sally. Tamara had taken off her petticoat and was holding it in a wad over the wound. The petticoat was already soaked with blood.

“Very good, Mrs. McKenzie,” the doctor said. “You are doing exactly the right thing by stopping the bleeding like that. Let me look at the wound.”

The doctor removed the blood soaked petticoat and looked at the wound. The blood coming from the bullet hole was very dark in color, and it was coming out in a slow, but steady flow. “Good. The bleeding is venous instead of arterial.”

He put his hand under Sally’s back, felt around, then frowned. “The bullet is still inside. It’s going to have to come out.”

“Is she going to live, Doc?” Cal asked anxiously.

“I don’t know. We need to get her to my office.”

Several people had come into the bank.

“How is she, Dr. Gunther?” one of the townspeople asked.

“She’s in bad shape,” Dr. Gunther said. “Paul, run across the street, get a blanket from the mercantile. Tell C.D. I’ll pay for it later. We need it to carry her to my office.”

Within a few minutes Paul returned with a blanket. Dr. Gunther put a man at each corner, one of them being Cal, then instructed them to pick her up. A cavalcade of bystanders followed them to the doctor’s office, which could only be reached by going up a set of stairs along the side of the hardware store building.

Dr. Gunther turned toward them.

“All of you stay down here. The only people allowed up are the four who are carrying her, then they are going to have to leave as well.”

“I’m not leavin’ her, Dr. Gunther,” Cal said resolutely.

“All right, you can stay.”

“I intend to stay as well,” Tamara said.

“Yes, I want you to stay. I will need you. You can act as my nurse. But no one else.”

The four men, holding the blanket in such a way as to keep Sally as level as possible, climbed the stairs until they reached the top. Maneuvering her through the door, they took Sally’s still unconscious form into the office, and laid her on the examination table.

Dr. Gunther took two clean sheets and a pair of scissors from a cabinet. “Mrs. McKenzie. I want you to strip her naked. You will probably have to cut her clothes off. Then place these two sheets over her, one across the top of her body and one across the bottom. But leave the wound exposed so I can examine it.”

“You’re going to take all her clothes off ?” Cal asked in alarm.

“I have to. But these bed sheets will preserve her modesty.”

“I ain’t goin’ to watch this,” Cal said.

Dr. Gunther chuckled. “I don’t intend for you to. You and I will wait over there until it is done. Mrs. McKenzie, please do it as quickly as you can.”

“What am I going to tell Smoke?” Cal asked as he paced back and forth.

“Smoke?”

“Smoke Jensen. He’s Sally’s husband.”

“Oh, Lord,” Dr. Gunther said. “I’ve never met Mr. Smoke Jensen, but I have certainly heard of him. And this is his wife, you say?”

“Yes, sir. You gotta keep her alive, Doctor. I come over here with her. I’m responsible for her. I shoulda gone into the bank with her, but instead I was all the way down to the other end of the street in the store, buying a stick of candy. I shoulda been in the bank with her.”

“What is your name?” Dr. Gunther asked.

“It’s Cal. Cal Wood. I work for Smoke and Miss Sally back at Sugarloaf.”

“Look at it this way, Cal. If you had been in there, you might have been killed as well. Then for sure you could have done nothing for her.”

“Doctor Gunther, she is ready,” Tamara called from the other side of the room.

Cal and Dr. Gunther returned to the table. Sally was lying on her back, her eyes closed, her head turned to one side. Abed sheet covered her shoulders and breasts. A second bed sheet covered her legs and lower abdomen. There was only about a six inch area of her belly exposed. The bullet wound, an ugly black hole, was about an inch and a half to the left, and on line with her belly button.

Dr. Gunther used warm salt water to wash away the blood, so only the dark red, almost black hole marred the smooth, white skin. Then, leaning down, he began sniffing.

“What are you doing?” Cal asked.

“If the bullet hit any of the vital organs inside, I should be able to smell it.” The doctor got his nose so close to the bullet hole it was almost touching her skin, and he sniffed again. “That’s good.” He rose up.

“What did you smell?”

“Nothing. That’s why I say it is good.” Gunther got a bulb syringe and began using it to aspirate blood from the wound. After that, he bathed the wound in warm salt water. He took a clean cloth from a cupboard, poured a bit of chloroform onto it, and handed the cloth to Tamara.

“I am going to have to probe for the bullet. If she awakens during the procedure, hold this over her nose and mouth for a count of three. Only until the count of three, mind you. Then take it away. Holding it there any longer could be dangerous.”

“All right,” Tamara said, taking the strong smelling cloth from him.

For the next step in the procedure Dr. Gunther used a Nélaton probe, which was a long probe with a tiny porcelain bulb on the end. After first pouring alcohol over the end of the probe, he stuck it into the wound, then followed the trajectory of the bullet until he hit something hard.

“I found something.”

“The bullet?” Tamara asked.

“Either the bullet or bone. We’ll know in just a moment.” Gunther withdrew the Nélaton probe and examined the porcelain tip. “Yes, there it is.” He pointed to a little gray smudge on the tip. “You see that? That’s lead from the bullet.”

After having found the bullet he picked up a pair of long legged forceps and pushed them into the wound. Sally began to regain consciousness.

“The chloroform,” Dr. Gunther said quickly.

Tamara applied the chloroform cloth to Sally’s nose and mouth, and counted to three. When she pulled it away, Sally was unconscious again.

“Good.” Dr. Gunther pushed the forceps into the wound until he encountered the bullet. Moving slowly and delicately, he probed around, then he pulled the bullet out and dropped it into a pan of water that was sitting near the operating table. Little bubbles of blood formed a string of red beads from the bullet to the surface of the water.

Gunther walked over to a glass front cabinet, opened the door, then took out a small, brown bottle. “I’m glad she is still unconscious,” he said, as he pulled the stopper from the bottle.

“Why is that?” Cal sked.

“I need to disinfect the wound.” Gunther held up the bottle. “This is iodine, and it will burn like the blazes.” After pouring iodine on the wound, he took strips of gauze bandage and wrapped them around her.

“What happens now?” Cal said.

“I will keep her here overnight, then we need to find a place for her to go while she recuperates.”

“Can I take her back home?”

Dr. Gunther shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. The trip would be far too dangerous for her.”

“She can stay with me, Doctor,” Tamara said.

“That would be good. You could keep an eye on her, and I can check in several times a day,” Dr. Gunther said.

“Doc, I need to send a telegram to Smoke,” Cal said. “What should I tell him?”

“Tell him that Mrs. Jensen was seriously wounded, but that the outlook is hopeful.”

Sugarloaf Ranch

Pearlie was trying to wrestle a calf down so it could be branded, but the calf was fighting him and Pearlie lost his balance. He fell and the calf fell on top of him.

Smoke started laughing, and he laughed so hard he had to hold on to his sides. “Pearlie, you’ve got that backwards, haven’t you? You are supposed to throw the calf! He’s not supposed to throw you!” Smoke hooted, unable to stop the laughing.

“Get off me, calf.” Pearlie pushed the animal to one side, and stood up, brushing the dirt off his clothes. Looking past Smoke, he saw a rider approaching. “Someone is comin’.”

Smoke looked around too. “That’s young Eb Kyle, isn’t it? Delivers telegrams for Will Winsted ?”

“I believe it is,” Pearly said. “He must be lookin’ for directions.”

Smoke started toward Kyle, the smile still on his face. But when he saw the expression on Kyle’s face, he felt a quick twinge of worry and the smile disappeared.

“Kyle, what is it?” Smoke asked. “Do you have a telegram for me?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Jensen, I’m afraid I do,” Kyle said. “And I’m terrible sorry to be the one what has to deliver it.”

“Give it to me.” Smoke held his hand out impatiently. He tore open the envelope, then removed the telegram.

MISS SALLY HAS BEEN SHOT SHE IS AWFUL BAD HURT BUT DOCTOR SAYS THERE IS HOPE

CAL

“Smoke, what is it?” Pearlie asked.

Smoke handed the telegram to him and looked at Kyle. “When did you receive this?” he asked.

“It took me just under half an hour to ride out here,” Kyle said. “Mr. Winsted, he give it to me just as quick as it come in, and he wrote it down.”

Smoke started toward the barn. “Pearlie, fill my canteen, bring me my pistol and my other hat,” he called back over his shoulder.

“We’re goin’ over there?”

“Not we, I. I’m going,” Smoke said. “We’re still in the middle of a roundup. I need you to stay here and watch after things.”

“Smoke, come on. I can’t just sit here, wonderin’ what’s goin’ on,” Pearlie insisted.

“You aren’t going to have to wonder. I’ll keep you posted. I’ll send you a telegram every day.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. Now get my gear together while I’m saddling my horse. Oh, and give Kyle a dollar.”

“Wait there, Kyle,” Pearlie said as he hurried into the house to respond to Smoke’s requests.

“I will, thank you,” Kyle said. “I’m awful sorry I’m the one had to bring this message.”