his back. He’s part of a gang who held up a stagecoach over by Chugwater a little while ago. Got himself shot while they were pulling the robbery. Rest of them got away. He is bleeding profusely. I had the man who brought him in put him on the examining table in section three. Ella is with him, and doing what she can to stop the blood flow.”
“Okay, Mom. I’m almost through here. Tell Ella I’ll be there in two minutes or less.”
Dr. Dane finished cleaning the farmer’s eye within another minute, sent him on his way, and hurried toward section three. He saw a young man standing just outside the curtain, watching him as he approached.
The doctor paused. “You’re the one who brought the wounded man in, I assume.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“And he’s an outlaw.”
“Yes, sir. Got shot like your mother just told you. I explained it to her while I was carrying him in here.”
Dr. Dane nodded. “You can tell me all about it later. Right now I’ve got to go to work on him. You can come inside the curtain if you want. Just don’t get close to the table.”
“All right.”
When Dr. Dane stepped through the curtain, he saw the unconscious young man lying facedown and Ella Dover working furiously to cut the fabric away from the bullet hole. She was also pressing a clean cloth on the gaping wound, trying desperately to stem the flow. The sickening coppery smell of blood was strong.
Dr. Dane moved to the opposite side of the table from Ella and pressed his fingers on the side of the patient’s neck. “Pulse is very weak.”
Ella glanced at him. “I don’t think he’s going to make it, Doctor. He’s in bad shape. He’s obviously lost a lot of blood.”
“I’ve got to get that slug out,” said Dr. Dane, picking up a metal probe from a small cart next to the table.
Ella wiped blood from around the wound, then watched as the doctor went after the slug.
Suddenly the patient jerked, stiffened, then went limp.
Dr. Dane quickly turned him over and attempted to get him breathing again by massaging his chest.
Ella looked at the young man standing close by and shook her head.
After a minute or so, Dr. Dane ceased massaging the chest, placed the earpieces of the stethoscope in his ears and pressed the microphone over the heart, listening intently. After a brief moment, he sighed, shook his head, and looked at Ella. “He’s dead.”
He turned to the pallid-faced young man. “I’d guess by the size of the hole in his back that it was a thirty-eight caliber bullet. You can tell me the story now.”
“My name is Doke Veatch, Doctor. I’m the shotgunner on the Wells Fargo stage that runs between Fort Collins and Casper. We were on our way north. A gang of robbers forced us to stop just south of Chugwater and robbed us. Not only took our money, but also our handguns. Left me with an empty shotgun and the driver with an empty rifle. When they were riding away, one of the male passengers—who had managed to hide his spare revolver inside the stage—grabbed it and opened fire on them. He hit this one, dropping him from his horse. The others didn’t stop. Just kept on riding.”
Dr. Dane nodded. “You ever see any of the robbers before?”
Doke felt his spine stiffen. “No, sir. I have no idea who they were.”
Ella was covering the body with a sheet.
Dr. Dane said, “Doke, I need to have our sheriff come and see if he knows who this outlaw is. He will want to know about the incident and he will want to talk to you.”
Doke shrugged. “Sure.”
The doctor excused himself, went through the office and stepped out onto the boardwalk. He called to a man walking by and asked him to go tell Sheriff Jack Polson he needed him to come to the office right away.
Dane was talking to his mother at her desk when the sheriff came through the door. “What have we got, Doctor?”
“A corpse, Sheriff. One you need to know about.”
The doctor led Sheriff Polson to the examining room where Ella Dover was cleaning
“Okay, Mom. I’m almost through here. Tell Ella I’ll be there in two minutes or less.”
Dr. Dane finished cleaning the farmer’s eye within another minute, sent him on his way, and hurried toward section three. He saw a young man standing just outside the curtain, watching him as he approached.
The doctor paused. “You’re the one who brought the wounded man in, I assume.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“And he’s an outlaw.”
“Yes, sir. Got shot like your mother just told you. I explained it to her while I was carrying him in here.”
Dr. Dane nodded. “You can tell me all about it later. Right now I’ve got to go to work on him. You can come inside the curtain if you want. Just don’t get close to the table.”
“All right.”
When Dr. Dane stepped through the curtain, he saw the unconscious young man lying facedown and Ella Dover working furiously to cut the fabric away from the bullet hole. She was also pressing a clean cloth on the gaping wound, trying desperately to stem the flow. The sickening coppery smell of blood was strong.
Dr. Dane moved to the opposite side of the table from Ella and pressed his fingers on the side of the patient’s neck. “Pulse is very weak.”
Ella glanced at him. “I don’t think he’s going to make it, Doctor. He’s in bad shape. He’s obviously lost a lot of blood.”
“I’ve got to get that slug out,” said Dr. Dane, picking up a metal probe from a small cart next to the table.
Ella wiped blood from around the wound, then watched as the doctor went after the slug.
Suddenly the patient jerked, stiffened, then went limp.
Dr. Dane quickly turned him over and attempted to get him breathing again by massaging his chest.
Ella looked at the young man standing close by and shook her head.
After a minute or so, Dr. Dane ceased massaging the chest, placed the earpieces of the stethoscope in his ears and pressed the microphone over the heart, listening intently. After a brief moment, he sighed, shook his head, and looked at Ella. “He’s dead.”
He turned to the pallid-faced young man. “I’d guess by the size of the hole in his back that it was a thirty-eight caliber bullet. You can tell me the story now.”
“My name is Doke Veatch, Doctor. I’m the shotgunner on the Wells Fargo stage that runs between Fort Collins and Casper. We were on our way north. A gang of robbers forced us to stop just south of Chugwater and robbed us. Not only took our money, but also our handguns. Left me with an empty shotgun and the driver with an empty rifle. When they were riding away, one of the male passengers—who had managed to hide his spare revolver inside the stage—grabbed it and opened fire on them. He hit this one, dropping him from his horse. The others didn’t stop. Just kept on riding.”
Dr. Dane nodded. “You ever see any of the robbers before?”
Doke felt his spine stiffen. “No, sir. I have no idea who they were.”
Ella was covering the body with a sheet.
Dr. Dane said, “Doke, I need to have our sheriff come and see if he knows who this outlaw is. He will want to know about the incident and he will want to talk to you.”
Doke shrugged. “Sure.”
The doctor excused himself, went through the office and stepped out onto the boardwalk. He called to a man walking by and asked him to go tell Sheriff Jack Polson he needed him to come to the office right away.
Dane was talking to his mother at her desk when the sheriff came through the door. “What have we got, Doctor?”
“A corpse, Sheriff. One you need to know about.”
The doctor led Sheriff Polson to the examining room where Ella Dover was cleaning
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