Sawbones

by William W. Johnstone

  “Papa, there aren’t enough hours in the day for that to do much good.” She bent and kissed him on the forehead, tucked the blanket around what remained of his legs, and hurried away to the front room.

  Knight trailed her out, appreciating the view from behind as she bent to pick up her purse and a large ledger.

  She looked back without straightening and gave him a smile that could only be described as lascivious. “For my entries,” she said.

  It was his turn to blush.

  She stood up and held out the ledger. “For my bank entries. I do declare, Dr. Knight, you seem to have developed quite a sunburn. How did you do that with all the time you spend indoors?”

  He went to her. His arm circled her trim waist and pulled her close for a kiss. She didn’t resist. If anything, she melted even closer as she returned the affection, but she pushed back too soon.

  “I do have to get to work in town.” She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. In a whisper she asked, “Is that payment for what you did for my pa?”

  “Not even close. Now, let’s go. My horse isn’t used to pulling a buggy.”

  Arm in arm they went to the buggy. He helped her up, then hopped in to snap the reins. The horse protested, shook its head and finally decided to begin pulling.

  “I get off work at five this evening,” she said. “May I expect an escort home? So you can be certain Papa is following your orders?”

  “It depends on how many people need my services. How Buffalo Springs survived without a doctor is beyond me. Some are in serious condition, but the ones who just want to look me over are lined up like I was giving away free money.”

  “I am sure they all find you perfectly acceptable. I do.” Amelia Parker looked ahead, her hands demurely folded in her lap. “You and the Lunsford boys? Have you been friends long? You seem like an unlikely trio.”

  Knight wondered how clever it was to tell her of their background, but his story of being in Elmira with Ben came out in bits and dabs. As it did, he had to ask her about how well Ben Lunsford was fitting into town.

  “I don’t socialize with anyone who frequents the saloon, but more than one who comes to the bank has mentioned how Seth Lunsford is quite personable and has favorably impressed Mr. Yarrow. Don’t tell Seth that, though,” she cautioned. “Mr. Yarrow likes to pretend he’s an old meanie. He’s not any of that and has been saying nice things about Seth’s determination and work ethic.” She swiveled a little to half face him. “This is especially consequential because Seth and Mr. Yarrow’s daughter have been seeing a great deal of one another.”

  “So he has a girlfriend?” Knight had to smile. Buffalo Springs was kinder to them than he had expected.

  “You make it sound as if such a thing never happened. We are very friendly in town.” When he laughed, she hastily added, “Not that friendly, but friendly. Treat us well and reap the rewards.”

  “I’m certainly not reaping rewards for treating the Buffalo Springs citizens as patients. No one has money to pay me. Mr. Hesseltine offered me five acres of his farm in return for treating his boy.”

  “And you turned him down. Why is that? West Texas is dry, and growing anything in this alkali soil is difficult, but five acres is still valuable.”

  “What’s his son going to inherit when he gets older if I take his pa’s land? I’ll take a bale or two of hay. I can trade that for a place to sleep in the stables.”

  “I’ve meant to ask about that. Do you like sleeping in a horse stall? Does your horse pine away without your presence all night long?”

  “Nothing like that. Without money, I can’t even rent the smallest room at Miz Dennison’s boarding house. This way, I have a roof over my head and get out of those dust storms.”

  “If you let me use your horse to pull my buggy to get home this evening, and you don’t come along, how am I supposed to return the horse for your night of bliss together?”

  “You’ll bring it back tomorrow. All my patients today are in town.”

  “I . . . I have a better idea. We, I mean Papa, has a spare room in the house. There’s no way I, we, he can ever repay you for your work keeping him alive. It’s not much, but the straw is cleaner than in a livery stable.”

  “Are you angling for me to be able to look in on my patient anytime during the night?” Knight grinned when he saw her blush.

  “Consider the offer. Here’s the bank. Leave the buggy and horse around back. There’s a watering trough and a post where you can tether the horse.” She stepped down and stopped for a moment, still looking into the bank. “Good-bye, Samuel.”

  “See you tomorrow, Amelia.”

  She pulled back her shoulders and walked proudly into the bank. Knight watched and waited. She hesitated, shot a quick look back, blew him a kiss, and hurried inside.

  He heaved a sigh. Life always got more complicated. Buffalo Springs had been a stopover, a place to get supplies before moving on, and now he considered settling here. The idea of finding a woman who made him forget Victoria startled him, but being able to outrun everything else that had happened in Pine Knob had to be a miracle. Gerald Donnelly and Captain Norwood and Milo Hannigan, all in the past.

  He hefted his medical bag and started toward the Golden Gate Saloon but hesitated when he reached the gunsmith’s shop. Seth Lunsford sat at a table, peering closely at a trigger mechanism he had disassembled. Knight went in. His shadow crossed the table and made Seth look up.

  The boy blinked, rubbed his eyes and said, “How’re you doin’, Doc? I’ve got a broken spring I can’t seem to reach, not with my clumsy fingers.” He held up the trigger assembly. “I told Mr. Yarrow I’d finish it before lunch but I’m no closer to getting it done than I was an hour ago.”

  “Let me see.” Knight held it up, scowled, then handed the trigger back. “I bent a pair of forceps and the instrument’s not worth a whole bunch to me now.” He rummaged about until he found the damaged forceps and handed them to Seth. “Try this. See if you can hook the spring and pull it taut.”

  Seth Lunsford chewed his tongue as he worked, then sat back with a surprised look on his face. “You saved me, Doc. I can’t believe it was so easy.”

  “Use the right tool and all things are possible.” He held up his hand when Seth held out the forceps. “I’ve got a good pair. Keep those. You might need them again.”

  “I can think of a couple different ways to use them. Thanks, Doc. Thanks! What can I do to pay you back?”

  Knight knew he had to say something or get into an endless argument. He took off his gunbelt and laid it on the table. “Cleaning and oiling take time, and with all the patients lining up, I haven’t had a chance to get rid of the grit.”

  “This place does kick up a passel of dust.” Seth slipped the Colt Navy from the holster. “This is one fine six-gun, Doc. I’ll get it all fixed up proper for you. I might even get to use this.” He held up the forceps.

  “Don’t work too many hours. I heard tell you’ve got better things to do with your time off from the shop. What’s her name?”

  “Aw, Doc, you’re gossipin’. I didn’t think you were the kind. There’s nuthin’ goin’ on between me and Marianne—Miss Yarrow.”

  “Good luck with that ‘nothing.’ I was on my way to see if anybody had shown up for my office hours at the saloon. Is Ben working right now?”

  “He’s always workin’. Miss Hattie’s a real slave driver. He doesn’t complain much, but I can tell he doesn’t like her or the job.”

  “There’re plenty of other jobs. Amos Parker needs a spare hand on his farm until he learns how to get around without legs. Ben can help out.” Even after Amos got up and around, there’d be much he couldn’t do.

  Knight knew the farm was prosperous enough to support the Parkers, but if Ben added his strong back to the mix, it could be the best within twenty miles of Buffalo Springs.

  “I dunno ’bout that, Doc. He said he’d never do any farmin’ again. He sounded mighty sure of that, but it’
s got to be better than puttin’ up with all those drunks every night.”

  “All?” Knight shook his head in wonder. The Golden Gate hardly counted as a ghost town with its few customers, yet Seth thought it was crowded with drunks.

  “I’ll have your Colt all fixed up and ready to go by the end of the day.”

  “Thanks, Seth.” Knight looked around the gunsmith shop, then left. He needed ammunition for the six-gun, but in Buffalo Springs spending what little money he earned for powder and bullets was an extravagance. The town was peaceful. He liked that.

  He walked slowly down the boardwalk, greeting people as he went. Hardly a one hadn’t been helped by him in some way. They were friendly once the notion settled into their heads that he was capable and not some snake-oil salesman. He pushed through the colorful swinging doors into the Golden Gate. Two men already sat at his “examination” table in the back. He stopped at the bar first.

  “Not many customers today, or did you poison the rest with your rotgut, Ben?” He tried to joke, but the sour expression told him Ben Lunsford wasn’t in the mood. “Anything I can do?”

  “Doc, you can take your gun, shoot me, and put me out of my misery.” Ben looked around, hunting for Hattie Malone. Not seeing her, he didn’t bother keeping his voice low. “She docked me a week’s wages for breaking too many bottles.”

  “Seems there’s bound to be some breakage. That’s not fair to you.”

  “It ain’t fair at all. The longer I work, the deeper I get in debt to her. I can’t see the end of the tunnel, and she’s got me workin’ double shifts. Double shifts! And I always do somethin’ wrong and owe even more.”

  “Working more and owing more’s no good,” Knight agreed. “Do you want me to talk to her? I can reason with her.”

  “Don’t bother. She’s suspicious of doctors and damned near everyone else. It would only make things worse for me.”

  “Other than that, how are the people in Buffalo Springs treating you? Seth’s got himself a lady friend. Do you have any prospects?” Knight sucked in his breath when he saw the flash of anger in Ben’s eyes.

  “I did, but she found somebody else.”

  “There are plenty of women in Buffalo Springs. If you promise not to run off to prospect for gold, you can have your pick.”

  “Yeah, my pick. You want a bottle for your customers? You’re the best business this place has, Doc.”

  “I wish I collected as much as Hattie does for me bringing in business.”

  “You need an office of your own. A surgery. There’s an empty place down by the gunsmith shop. Seth can show you. He mentioned it to me yesterday.”

  “I’m not sure I could afford it, but maybe the landlord there would cut me a deal.”

  “Sure, Doc, why not? Ain’t nobody in town what don’t like you like a brother.”

  Knight wanted to find out what was eating away at Ben, but a low moan from the rear of the saloon caught his attention. From the way the man held his gut and doubled over, he was in serious need of medical attention.

  “Got to operate, I’m afraid. That looks like a case of bad indigestion or appendicitis. Considering old Quinton can eat a work glove and think it needed salt, you’d better get the sheets out and hang up some curtains so I can work.”

  “Why bother? The customers would take bets on whether he’d bite the dust. Oh, all right. I’ll hang up the sheets.” Ben left his place behind the bar and vanished into the back room.

  Knight set about getting enough whiskey into Quinton to dull his senses, then began cutting. He’d been right about the ailment. By the end of the day, people came in to congratulate him for saving Quinton’s life. He had, but his modesty kept him from taking too much credit.

  Besides, he was kept humble by the disapproving looks that Ben Lunsford gave him from behind the bar.

  CHAPTER 28

  Ben Lunsford looked around the empty saloon, spat toward a cuspidor and missed, and finally dug around under the bar until he found his special bottle. The amber liquor tasted good and wouldn’t rot his belly like the trade whiskey he concocted and sold to the few customers foolish enough to come into the Golden Gate. He sloshed an inch of whiskey around in the bottle, pulled the cork and took a healthy swig. The whiskey burned all the way down and puddled in his stomach. The warmth spread and chased away some of the discontent he felt. A second gulp drained the bottle.

  His tippling had increased to outright guzzling. It took more booze to have any effect, but he switched bottles in the back room, filled some with water and others with the grain alcohol to improve the kick, and Hattie Malone never noticed her stock was being drained by a nonpaying customer.

  “She owes me,” he said, bending down behind the bar to take out another full bottle from a case that had come all the way from Kentucky. “She owes me big-time. Won’t pay me what I’m worth.” He had started to break the seal and pull the cork when a customer at the bar cleared his throat.

  “You think that, Ben, then I got a job for you. Leave Hattie and come to work for me over at the livery.” Jacob Stevenson put his elbows on the bar and leaned over to stare at him.

  “Doing what? Mucking stalls?”

  “That,” the man said. “And I’m getting in a dozen mares for breeding. I decided I can raise them and sell to the army. Heard they’re going to build a post near Buffalo Springs.”

  “Do tell. Where’s this?”

  “Can’t be too far. They need to store their payroll in the bank. Now are you going to draw me a beer? And I want some of that free lunch mentioned on the sign out front.”

  “I haven’t had time to do up a sandwich. The beer’s on the house.” Ben worked the cork out of the bottle, considered taking a draw from it, then settled for a shot glass since he had a customer who might badmouth him for putting his lips to whiskey intended for others.

  Clifton Stevenson frowned when he saw the calculation going on, but he plowed ahead with his offer.

  “A partner’s what I need when I get the ranch working. A dozen horses to start and I can expand it to ten times that.”

  “You’d take me on as a partner? You offerin’ me half?”

  “You can work up to that. Right now I’m raising the money. If you know anything about raising horses, that’d go a ways toward becoming a full partner in a year or two.”

  “Sounds like a lot of work.”

  “It would be,” said Stevenson, “and there wouldn’t be any hitting the bottle while you work for me.”

  “Where’s the money comin’ from? The livery’s not makin’ much. Not enough for this kind of dream to come true.”

  Stevenson took a big drink of the beer and leaned forward to conspiratorially whisper, “I got a ton of money sitting in the bank right now from an uncle what died back East.”

  “The money’s burnin’ a hole in your pocket? Why not give me some of it?” Ben Lunsford laughed at that.

  Stevenson nodded. “That’s what I’m doing, wanting you to come work for me. Two years is what I figure before you’d be a full partner.”

  “Tell you what, Jacob, let me think on it. Then maybe we can drink on it.” Ben knocked back a shot and poured himself another.

  “Don’t get too far into that bottle, Ben. Liquor’s a cruel master.” Stevenson finished his beer. “Thanks. Let me know soon on my offer. I need to get started with that herd before winter sets in.”

  Ben Lunsford watched the livery stable owner push through the swinging doors. He took another shot of whiskey and lifted it in mock salute. The liquor hardly burned now. He had deadened his innards. Another shot tasted good to him, and another until he decided another customer wasn’t coming in. Maybe after the workday ended. Ben closed the outer doors and turned around the CLOSED sign.

  Bottle in hand, he made his way on unsteady legs down the main street. “Buffalo Springs,” he muttered. “What a dump.” He stopped in front of the bank and thought about what Stevenson said about a large inheritance sitting in there.

 
; He had seen the vault. The door couldn’t be opened, but brick walls surrounded the metal cage where the money had to be stacked. Pull those bricks out and he knew he could reach in through the metal strips and take the money. If he had any skill with a lariat, he could toss a loop into the cage and rope anything there. He reenacted a sudden pull that would drag money and boxes where he could grab it. He lost his balance and sat hard.

  That let him see into the bank lobby. Anger built when Amelia Parker walked across his field of vision. She had strung him along until Doc Knight stole her from him. From the way she talked with the bank president, she worked there now. He hadn’t heard and Knight sure as hell hadn’t mentioned it. Breaking into that vault would show them all. Knight and Amelia Parker and everybody in Buffalo Springs.

  Ben pushed himself to his feet, made sure the bottle was intact, and continued to the edge of town. Empty stores and houses gave mute testimony to how the population had been decimated by the lure of gold strikes farther west. He kicked in a door and staggered in. To his surprise, a man cloaked in shadow sat at the dusty table.

  “Never thought to see you here, Ben. And you brought me a bottle. I don’t have any glasses so we’ll have to take turns drinking straight from the bottle.”

  “Milo?” Ben Lunsford stared at the shadowy figure, then at the bottle. He had been hitting the booze hard all day, but he’d never experienced hallucinations before. Some of the men who frequented the Golden Gate complained of seeing mirages and hearing voices. He thought that meant they were weak-minded, not like him.

  “You’re a hard man to find, Ben.”

  Ben Lunsford tried to back up and flee, but Hannigan drew his six-shooter and laid it on the table. To make sure Ben got the idea, he shifted in his chair and pointed the muzzle straight at him without picking up the gun.

  “It was Doc. He talked me into leavin’. I didn’t want to. Honest.”

  “Now, why do I think there’s only a hint of truth in what you’re saying? You aren’t the type of fellow to be swayed. Seth, now, Seth is another matter. That boy’s got no willpower. Tell him to eat a bug and he’d gobble it right on up. Ain’t that so?”