Jonas had discovered Bryant’s belly was his weak point, so he kept punching at his middle, using a fierce combination of lefts and rights to keep battering Bryant’s gut, until he could no longer drag air into his tortured lungs.
Bryant sagged against the wall, slid down it, and slumped onto his side. At the same time, Will ducked a punch from Taggart, sent one of his own wrist-deep into Taggart’s belly, then when he folded, slammed a knee to his chin. Taggart dropped and lay still. Will and Jonas stood with their backs to the bar, chests heaving.
“I…I reckon we won,” Jonas gasped.
“I would say so,” Will answered. “Thanks for backin’ me.”
“Hey, that’s what pards are for. Besides, they were playin’ dirty. Taggart hit you in the back when you weren’t lookin’.”
“Could have been worse. He could’ve put a bullet in my back. I made a dumb mistake turnin’ my back on him. There’s your first big lesson as a Ranger, kid. Never turn your back on a man who’s on the prod.”
Before Jonas could answer, Marshal Spurr burst through the batwings. He carried a double barreled Remington shotgun, which he held level at his hip. Both triggers were already cocked.
“What the hell’s goin’ on in here?” he shouted.
“Not much anymore, Marshal,” Simon answered. “Will and his pard pretty much settled things.”
Spurr glanced at the two unconscious men on the floor, then at Will and Jonas.
“I should’ve known you’d be involved, Will,” he said. “Gordon, someone better get Doc Wilson.”
“I’ll fetch him,” one of the bystanders said.
“Thanks, Tommy,” Spurr answered.
“I didn’t start the fight,” Will answered. “In fact, I tried to walk away from it.”
“Will’s tellin’ the truth, Marshal,” Georgia added. “Me’n him were just talkin’ when Eli came over to bother us. He tried to claim I was his gal, no one else’s. You of all men should know I don’t belong to any one man, Marshal.”
She winked, and Spurr blushed.
“Will and his friend were fixin’ to go home anyway,” Georgia continued. “When Will got up, Eli sucker punched him in the back. Will had no choice but to fight back. When he did, Jeb jumped into the fight, so Jonas had to help Will.”
“Will and Jonas didn’t want any part of this fight,” Simon agreed. “Eli and Jeb forced it.”
“Will, it seems you and your pard are off the hook,” Spurr said. “You gonna want to press charges against these two yahoos?”
“No,” Will said. “I just wanna get back to the house. I figure they’ve learned their lesson tonight, anyway. Long as it’s all the same to you, me’n Jonas’ll just mosey on home.”
“Not quite so fast. I want the doc to check over the two of you before you leave.”
“I don’t need to see the doc, Max. Do you, Jonas?”
“Nope.”
“It don’t matter none what either of you want, you ain’t leavin’ this saloon until Doc Wilson checks you out,” Spurr insisted. “Will, you’re shaky on your feet, and Jonas, you’re lookin’ pretty wobbly too.”
“That’s just the red-eye we drank,” Will protested. “We’ll both be just fine.”
“We’ll let the doc decide that,” Spurr answered. “Although, I will admit you both appear to be in far better shape than the other two.”
Taggart had regained consciousness for just a moment, but only managed to roll onto his back before again passing out. Bryant was now semi-conscious, groaning, his arms wrapped around his middle. Spurr looked out the door.
“What the devil is takin’ Doc Wilson so long?”
“He might’ve been out of his office, tendin’ to someone,” Simon said. “Don’t worry. Tommy’ll find him.”
Spurr knelt alongside Taggart to ascertain if he was still breathing.
“Well, he’d better hurry. This one’s still alive, but I’m not certain for how long. George, bring me a towel.”
The bartender hurried over with one. Spurr took it and began dabbing the blood still dripping from Taggart’s broken nose. He was about to ask Simon for another towel when Tommy returned, followed by the town physician, Dr. Toller Wilson.
Wilson was a young man, who was originally from back East, but had moved his family to Texas for the fresh air, milder climate, and to establish his own practice. He was slightly balding, so wore his dark hair very close cropped. Brown eyes peered out from behind a pair of pince-nez spectacles. While he was usually smiling, at the moment, taking in the scene in front of him, he wore a sober expression.
“Sorry it took me a few minutes,” he said. “I was just finishing stitching up a bad gash in Harmon Malloy’s leg when Tommy came for me. How many patients do I have, and which is in the worst shape?”
“Four,” Spurr answered, from where he still knelt alongside Taggart. “This one right here seems to be in the worst shape. He’s havin’ trouble breathin’.”
Wilson hurried over to the downed cowboy and knelt by Taggart’s side. He opened his medical bag, then began a quick examination.
“How bad is he, Doc?” Spurr asked, after Wilson had palpated Taggart’s ribs, then listened to his heart and lungs through his stethoscope.
“He’s in pretty bad shape, Marshal, but he’ll live, unless there’s internal injuries that I can’t find, without a more thorough examination. He’s havin’ trouble breathing because his nose is busted, plus he’s got a broken jaw. The jaw will have to be set, and he won’t be eating anything besides beef broth or thin soup for quite some time. The abrasions and contusions—”
“The what?”
“Cuts and bruises, Marshal. They’re nothing serious, but will need cleaning, dressing, and bandages. I’ll need two men to carry him to my office. Place him on the examination table. I’ll be right along.”
“Don, Micah, pick him up and haul him to the doc’s.” Spurr ordered.
The two men Spurr indicated picked up Taggart to bring him to Wilson’s office. The physician moved on to check over Jeb Bryant, who was now fully conscious, but still lying where he’d fallen, groaning. When Wilson pressed on his side, he yelled with pain.
“Doc, it feels like you just stuck a knife in my ribs! How bad is it?”
“You’ve taken a pretty good beating, that’s for certain,” Wilson answered. “You’ve got at least a couple of cracked ribs. I don’t see any froth comin’ from your mouth, and your breathing seems all right, so I don’t believe any of them splintered and punctured a lung. You’ll need to have a compression bandage wrapped around ’em to make certain that doesn’t happen. You’ve also got a lot of other injuries that need to be treated. Do you have any tingling in your legs, or do they feel numb?”
“Uh-uh.” Bryant shook his head.
“You think if someone helps you, that you’ll be able to walk to my office?”
“I’ll manage, Doc. Then, once I’m patched up, me’n Eli are comin’ after Will and his pal.”
“Neither one of you’ll be doin’ anything, except lying in bed for quite some time,” Wilson answered. “Your friend’s in far worse shape than you are.”
“Try to use what little brains the Good Lord gave you, Jeb,” Spurr said. “Everyone here says you and Eli started the fight. You’re both damn lucky Will didn’t want to press any charges, or you’d be goin’ straight from the doc’s to the jailhouse. Tony, get him outta here. Haul his sorry butt down to Doc Wilson’s.”
“Sure thing, Marshal.”
Tony slid his arms under Jeb and helped him stand up, then draped Jeb’s right arm over his shoulders.
“C’mon, Jeb. Let’s get get movin’. I’ve gotta be home before my wife starts wonderin’ what happened to me. She’s a worrier.”
He half-carried, half-shoved the cowboy through the door.
“Will, good to see you again,” Wilson said. “I can always count on business picking up whenever you ride into town. Let me take a quick look at you and your friend, then I’ll
have to get back home and start to operate on Eli Taggart’s jaw. It’s pretty badly shattered.”
“Takin’ a knee to the chin will do that, Doc,” someone called out, with a laugh.
“Indeed,” Wilson said. “Let me get back to work here.”
He looked over Will’s face, and turned his neck gently from side to side.
“I don’t see anything major, Will. Let me just check your belly.”
“You might want to check his back, too, Doc,” Jonas said. “He took a pretty wicked punch to his lower back.”
“Thanks, son,” Wilson said. “Will, you’d better remove your shirt.”
“Right here?” Will said. “In front of all these folks…and the ladies?”
“It’s not like any of us gals haven’t seen you without your shirt on before, Will, honey,” Georgia called out. Her eyes took on a devilish glint when she added, “Or the rest of your clothes, either. Doc, if he won’t take off his shirt, I’ll be happy to help you with that.”
Will blushed as bright red as the letters on the sign over the door out front. Everyone else laughed.
“You’re not helping, Georgia,” Wilson said. “Although, if you don’t remove that shirt, Will, I just might take her up on her offer.”
“All right, you win,” Will grumbled. Reluctantly, he shrugged out of his shirt. Wilson whistled when he saw the bruises covering Will’s belly, and especially the one low on his back, where Taggart had sucker punched him.
“Will, I don’t like the looks of some of those, particularly the one on your back,” he said. “I hope your kidney hasn’t been damaged.”
He pushed on the bruise. Will winced.
“I don’t know… I don’t like the way you reacted.”
“It’s just a bad bruise, Doc. I’ve had far worse,” Will objected. “If you’re done, take a look at Jonas so we can get goin’.”
“I want to clean out the cuts on your face,” Wilson said. “Come with me to the office so I can do that. Then, I’ll double-check your kidney and belly once I’m done with the other two men.”
“If it’s all right with you, it’d be just as easy for me to let Delia do that at home,” Will answered. “She’s patched me up more’n once. She’s as good at that as most doctors. No offense.”
“None taken,” Wilson answered. He rubbed a hand over his head. “It’s against my better judgment, but I’ll let you do that. However, if you become dizzy or nauseous, or when you pee if there’s blood in your urine, or excessive pain, you get down to my office, right away.”
“Will do, Doc. Can I put my shirt back on now?”
“Go ahead. I’ll check your friend while you get yourself back together.”
He turned his attention to Jonas.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Jonas Peterson.”
“How old are you?”
“A little more’n eighteen. I just signed on with the Rangers. They gave me Will as a pardner.”
“Humph. Another young man who’ll be havin’ bullets dug out of him, and’ll probably die from a gunshot way too young,” Wilson said. “Well, let me take a look at you. Unbutton your shirt so I can make certain you don’t have any deep bruises or other indications you may have suffered internal abdominal injuries.”
Jonas complied, although albeit grudgingly. Wilson first examined the cuts and bruises on his face, then pushed against his stomach, along with light taps with the side of his fist, to see how Jonas reacted. Jonas winced with each touch, but gave no sign of any sharp pain that would suggest torn muscles or ruptured organs, or any internal bleeding.
“You’re in better shape than Will, but not by much,” Wilson said. “I suppose I’d be wasting my breath to try’n talk you into coming down to my office so I can check you out more thoroughly, once I care for the more seriously injured men.” He gave Will a meaningful look. “That would include you, Will.”
“If Will ain’t goin’ to your office, then I ain’t,” Jonas said.
“And I already told you I don’t need you to patch me up, Doc, even though I’m obliged for the offer,” Will added.
“Suit yourselves,” Wilson said, with a shrug. “I can’t force either of you to allow me to treat you. But if one of you starts to feelin’ sick to your stomach, light-headed, or begins spitting up blood, send for me—and I mean immediately.”
“We’ll do that, Doc,” Will assured him. “How much do we owe you?”
“I’ll put it on your family’s account, as always,” Wilson answered.
“Since it’s for me, my father might not pay you,” Will answered. “We haven’t exactly been on good terms since I left home.”
“You let me worry about that. I can handle your father,” Wilson said.
“If you say so, Doc. Can we go now?”
“There’s nothing more I can do, since neither of you will cooperate. You may as well head on home.”
“Thanks, Doc. Will we see you at Susan’s wedding?”
“Unless a medical emergency comes up that can’t wait, yes.”
“Good. We’ll see you, then. C’mon, Jonas, button up your shirt and let’s get outta here.”
Will picked up his hat from where it had fallen and punched its crushed crown back into shape. Once Jonas had re-buttoned his shirt and retrieved his own hat, they made their good nights, and went out to their horses.
“It’s gonna be another slow ride, Jonas,” Will said, as he climbed painfully into his saddle, “but at least we don’t have far to go. C’mon, Pete, let’s get on home.”
He and Jonas backed the horses away from the rail, and put them into a slow walk. Will just hoped they could get in the back door of the house without waking anyone but Delia.
****
Will and Jonas removed their boots and spurs on the back steps, then carried them into the house.
“Delia has a room off the kitchen,” Will whispered to Jonas. “With any luck, she’ll hear us come in, or else I can wake her without disturbin’ the rest of the family. I don’t feel like explainin’ this to them right now. I want some sleep first.”
A turned-low lamp was always left on in the kitchen. Will turned up the flame. He then knocked gently on Delia’s door.
“Delia?” he whispered. When there was no response, he called again, a bit more loudly.
“Delia? It’s Will.”
“Master William? Hold on just a minute, child. I’ll be right out.”
She was used to being awakened at all hours of the night for emergencies. In fact, besides being a cook, she was a trained midwife, and had helped deliver all of the Kirkpatrick children.
There was a squeaking of bed springs, followed by a rustle of cloth as Delia pulled on a robe and slippers, then soft footsteps as she padded across the floor. Her eyes widened when she opened the door, and saw Will’s cut and bruised face.
“Master William? What happened? You look like all the legions of Beelzebub attacked you!”
“Shh. I don’t want to wake up the family. Me’n Jonas need your help, Delia.”
“Master Jonas?” Delia took one look at him and gasped. “The both of you?”
“I’m afraid so, Delia,” Will said. “We need you to fix us up.”
“I’ll do that, but you’ll never be able to hide this from the rest of the family,” Delia warned. “Not as bad as the two of you look.”
“I know that, Delia, but I’d rather they not find out until morning.”
“It already is morning,” Jonas pointed out.
“All right, later this morning,” Will answered.
“Enough.” Delia took charge. “The two of you sit right down while I start some water boilin’, then fetch some clean cloths and my medicines.”
Delia went to work with the efficiency of a woman experienced in treating plantation injuries, gunshots, and other wounds common on the western frontier. Within a few minutes, she had the water hot, her supplies ready, and was cleaning out Will’s and Jonas’s wounds.
; “Now, Master William, you tell me what happened to you boys.”
“We were down at the saloon,” Will said. “We’d had a few drinks, and were just gettin’ ready to leave when two cowboys from the Double Diamond picked a fight with us. We tried to walk away, but they wouldn’t let us.”
“I’ve always warned you drinking whiskey was the devil’s curse,” Delia said. She shook her head in disgust.
“It wasn’t the red-eye which started the fight, Delia,” Jonas said. “Those two men said some terrible things, which made Will awful riled. I stopped him from goin’ after ’em, and figured things would simmer down, but when we started to leave, one of ’em sucker-punched Will in the back when he wasn’t lookin’.”
“That don’t matter,” Delia answered. “There’s no words so terrible a body can’t just walk away. You know, sticks and stones…”
“Delia, those two were sayin’ things so crude I couldn’t just sit there and take it,” Will said. “Vulgar things about my father…and you and Peggy. Even so, Jonas stopped me, until Eli Taggart threw that first punch.”
“Eli Taggart?” Delia grimaced. “I’ve crossed paths with him before. I’ll bet Jeb Bryant was with him.”
“He was,” Will confirmed.
“In that case, I’ll make an exception to what I just said. Those two men have the devil in their souls. They deserved whatever they got. I hope you gave them a good thrashing.”
“We did.” Will attempted to grin, but only managed to wince. “They’ll be laid up at Doc Wilson’s for quite some time.”
“Perhaps while they’re at the doctor’s he could cut off their filthy tongues…and their—”
“Delia! I’ve never heard you talk like that.”
“I’m sorry, Master William. However, those two men have been a scourge on this town ever since they arrived. If they’re about, a woman can’t even walk down the street without bein’ subjected to their filthy mouths and foul language. I’ll ask the Lord for His forgiveness after I finish tending to you boys. Now, hold still.”
Blood Ties: A Texas Ranger Will Kirkpatrick Novel Page 12
