by J. T. Edson
‘Undoubtedly. There are those here who the Intelligencer would be only too delighted to bring down and something like this could open the way.’
‘That being the case, sir, the best thing for all concerned will be for me to resign from the College, pull up my stakes and head for home.’
Just as Doc finished making his suggestion, there was a knock at the door. Frowning, Dumoulin called for the person to come in. It opened to admit his secretary. Much to the Texan’s surprise, he saw his wife behind the man. One glance at her face as she entered told him that she was deeply troubled.
‘Mrs. Leroy has brought a telegraph message for her husband, sir,’ the secretary announced. ‘It’s contents are such that I felt he should see them without delay.’
‘Here, Doc,’ Lynn Leroy said, hurrying forward and holding out a buff colored Western Union message form. Her voice was husky as she went on, ‘It’s—It’s—’
‘Easy, honey!’ Doc said, alarmed by the display of emotion from his usually self-controlled young wife. He had risen at the sight of her and, taking the sheet of paper, lowered her on to his vacated seat. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Y-Yes,’ Lynn replied. ‘Th-The message—!’
‘Oh my Lord!’ Doc ejaculated, opening and reading the neatly printed writing of a Western Union telegraph operator. ‘Ole Devil’s dead!’
Taking the paper from the Texan’s limp fingers, Dumoulin stared at it.
Doc,
It is with deepest regret that I have to inform you Uncle Devil passed away peacefully in his sleep last night. We realize that you cannot attend the funeral, but felt that you would wish to be informed.
Dusty Fog.
Letting the paper slip from his hand, Dumoulin sat as if turned to stone. Like Doc, he was staring blankly ahead of him. Each was thinking of Jackson Baines Hardin, but they were regarding him in vastly different lights.
To Doc, it was General Hardin he called to mind. His employer, whose stem and hard exterior had covered a kindness and sense of humor. Who had always been willing to come to the aid of a friend, or serve the best interests of Texas and, although his disability would not allow him to help personally, would send his very capable floating outfit lxiii to act on his behalf.
Instead of thinking of Ole Devil as an elderly man, Dumoulin’s recollection was of a fateful day in Texas when he had looked through the smoke of a shot with the horrifying realization that he had missed. Confronting him, the tall, ramrod straight figure had hirsute adornment so shaped as to give its features a Mephistophelian aspect which went so well with the name ‘Ole Devil’. He was sighting the barrel of a steady rock-held pistol at Dumoulin. However, no bullet had winged its way into his body. Despite having been narrowly missed by young Dumoulin’s shot, Ole Devil had declined to reply in kind.
The refusal, made in a way that did not offend or affect Dumoulin’s honor, was something he had never forgotten. It had left him in Ole Devil’s debt, but that had not been mentioned in the letter written years later about the young man who now stood on the other side of his desk. Instead, Ole Devil had written about many of the incidents which he had just heard at first hand, and had recommended that Marvin Eldridge Leroy should be enrolled as a student and given an opportunity to qualify as a doctor.
Almost two minutes went by in silence.
Dumoulin was the first to break it.
Thinking of what he owed to Ole Devil Hardin, he had reached a decision.
‘Mr. Leroy,’ the Dean said. ‘Do you think that you could sit your qualifying examination next Monday?’
For a moment, Doc could not believe his ears. Then he realized the chance that he was being offered.
‘Yes, sir,’ Doc said and felt Lynn grip his hand in a grasp that hurt. ‘I can.’
‘Then you will,’ Dumoulin promised. ‘And, if you pass, you’ll leave New Orleans as a qualified doctor.’
Seventeen – You’ll Have to Keep Haynes Lashricker Alive
‘Sure, I know Haynes Lashricker, Doctor,’ the conductor of the train bound for Kenton stated, leaning against the back of the seat occupied by Lynn and Doc Leroy. ‘Is he a friend of your’n?’
On the luggage rack above the young couple, in addition to their hats, was a new black leather medical bag clearly inscribed with gold letters: ‘Dr. M.E. LEROY, M.D.’
Making good on the offer he had presented, Doctor Alphonse Jules Dumoulin had arranged for Doe to take his qualifying examination prematurely. No other favoritism had been shown and it had been upon his own merits that he had passed with honors. Having achieved his goal, he had kept the promise he had made. He and his wife were on their way to the West before the New Orleans Intelligencer was aware of what had taken place.
Even before they had left the riverboat and boarded the trans-continental train, Lynn had known that Doc was intending to pay a visit to the town in which he had been told Hayden Paul Lindrick was living under the name of ‘Haynes Lashricker’. In fact, the decision to do so had been as much hers as his. Furthermore, on her own initiative, she had persuaded Captain Phillipe St. Andre of the New Orleans Police Department to turn over the matched brace of Colt Pocket Pistols to her husband so that he could return them to their owner.
Neither of the young couple could visualize what might transpire from the delivery of the pistols to their rightful owner. Nor did they try to decide what Doc would do when he met the man who had been blamed for the killing of his parents. However, each had known that he would never rest easily until it had been done.
Having transferred to a smaller and less comfortable local train, Lynn and Doc were now traversing the spur line in the direction of the Colorado-Wyoming border. In another hour at the most, they would reach their destination.
Wanting to know more about the man they were going far out of their way to meet, they had engaged the conductor in conversation. They had been helped in this by the evidence of Doc’s profession. While the bag might be new, he was obviously older and more mature than would have been the case with the average person who had qualified so recently. What was more, as his hat and attire proved, he was anything but a dude freshly arrived from the pampered East.
Having suggested a possible cure for the railroad official’s rheumatism and made a couple of jokes about the use of whiskey in the treatment of snake-bites—with references to the advisability of always carrying one’s private snake to provide the need for the cure—Doc had gradually brought up the subject which was of greatest interest to him. A casual question while they were discussing the right-of-way trouble began to produce the desired results.
‘No, I can’t say that we’ve ever met,’ Doc admitted frankly, the conductor’s tone and attitude suggesting that he thoroughly approved of the man they were discussing. ‘But I’ve heard a few things about him.’
‘What you’ve heard likely depends on who was doing the telling,’ the conductor remarked dryly, studying the young Texan with appraising eyes.
‘You could say that about ’most everybody,’ Doc pointed out, speaking in a lighter fashion than he was feeling. ‘Why there’s even folks who say that Wyatt Earp was a mean, ornery, dishonest son-of-a—gentleman.’
‘Wyatt Earp is a mean, ornery, whatever you was going to call him,’ the conductor stated. ‘But, no matter what you might’ve heard tell, Haynes Lashricker’s a damned fine man. And I’m not saying that just ’cause I’m working for the railroad. If it hadn’t been for him, this whole damned—pardon me for such words, ma’am—section’d’ve gone up in gunsmoke afore now.’
‘Like I told you, we’ve been down in New Orleans for a fair spell,’ Doc said soothingly. ‘All we’ve heard is some talk, but not much, except that Haynes Lashricker was a name that kept cropping up.’
‘It likely would,’ the railroad official conceded, sounding mollified. ‘When he was sent out here from the head office back East, we figured he’d be nothing more’n another shiny-butted desk warmer. Was we surprised. He took over when things was all set
to pop and cooled them down.’
For the remainder of the journey, Doc was granted an insight into the way that Lindrick—if, indeed, he was ‘Lashricker’—had handled a very delicate and potentially dangerous situation. What was more, he felt sure that the hard-bitten old conductor’s respect and high regard was genuine and did not stem from purely partisan feelings. Yet there was no suggestion that Lindrick had acted in his old capacity as boss gun. For all that, he had kept the railroad’s professional fighting men under control and ruled them with the same iron hand that had been in evidence during the ‘Fork Range’ war back in Lampasas County, Texas. Through his efforts alone, unless the official was exaggerating, there had been none of the bloodshed and violence that had marked disputes of a similar nature in other parts of the country.
At last, with the train slowing for its stop at Kenton, the conductor went to attend to his duties. Taking their hats and Doc’s bag from the luggage rack, the couple went to stand on the entrance platform. Looking ahead, Doc’s gaze picked out two people among the small crowd waiting at the depot. One was a tall, wide shouldered, blond haired and handsome young man in the attire of a Texas cowhand and with a brace of matched staghorn handled Colt Artillery Model Peacemakers in the tied down holsters of an exceptionally well designed and made gunbelt. Apart from the clothing being different and the black hair being longer, the woman at his side might have been Lynn.
‘It’s Beth and Waco!’ Doc ejaculated, then swung an accusing gaze to his wife. ‘Now how do you reckon they knew we’d be coming here!’
‘Why isn’t that kind of them?’ Lynn said, oozing innocence. ‘Of course, it’s what I’d expect from our side of the family. A girl should always be met by her loving sister when she’s coming home from a long visit.’
‘This isn’t coming home for us,’ Doc protested. ‘And I don’t believe in fortune telling.’
‘Well—,’ Lynn purred. ‘It could just be that I might have mentioned we’d be coming home through Kenton—and when—in that telegraph message I sent to them.’
‘That’s about what I figured,’ Doc declared and gave his wife’s right bicep a gentle squeeze. ‘Gracias, honey.’ However, there was no time to be spent on lengthy and warm greetings, or in explaining why Lynn had sent the message asking for her sister and brother-in-law to come to Kenton and meet them.
‘Thank the Good Lord you’re on this train, amigo,’ Waco declared fervently, as he and Doc were shaking hands and the sisters embracing. ‘Have you brought all your doctoring gear along?’
‘What’s not in the bag here’s with the rest of our gear in the caboose,’ Doc replied, realizing that only a serious emergency would produce such behavior from the very capable young sheriff of Two Forks County. ‘What’s up?’
‘There’s something real important for you to do,’ Waco answered. ‘You have to keep Haynes Lashricker alive.’
‘Haynes Lash—’Doc ejaculated and, hearing the Words as she was turning to greet her brother-in-law, Lynn gave a gasp.
‘He’s taken real sick,’ Waco elaborated, puzzled by the response to the name he had mentioned. ‘It’s just like that feller when we were working for the Hashknife Outfit, the one you and the doctor from Bisbee had to cut open.’
‘Appendicitis!’ Doc growled, remembering the incident as being the second occasion when he had participated in such an operation.
‘Acute appendicitis, Doc,’ Lynn’s sister put in. ‘I couldn’t be sure, but I think it won’t be long before it bursts.’
‘So far, we’ve stopped anybody from learning he’s ill,’ Waco went on, knowing his wife had studied enough about medical matters to have made an accurate diagnosis. ‘But, if he dies, this whole damned section could blow apart at the seams. There’s not much time to spare, amigo.’
‘You don’t know what you’re asking him to do, Waco!’ Lynn gasped. ‘Lashricker might be the man who killed his mother and father!’
‘Lindrick?’ Waco growled, for he had heard of how Doc’s parents had died. ‘Are you sure of it, amigo?’
‘Everything points that way,’ Doc stated, emotions churning through him.
The four young people had moved away from the train. Standing in a rough diamond-shape, they were all experiencing a sense of strain over the unexpected development.
‘I noticed the scar on his forehead,’ Waco admitted. ‘But it never occurred to me that—He sure’s hell isn’t a hired gun now, amigo. From what Dan Troop—he’s town marshal up here—told me and I’ve seen for myself, I’ve have taken him for one damned fine hombre.’
‘We’re staying with him and his wife,’ Beth went on and her face showed an even deeper distress. ‘Oh Lord. They’ve invited you, too.’
‘Did they know that it was me who’d be coming?’ Doc demanded.
‘Yes,’ Beth confirmed. ‘It was Hay—Lin—Hay—he who suggested that you should be their guests.’
‘When I saw what was ailing him and remembered you’d be here in the afternoon train, I thought everything would work out fine,’ Waco said slowly. ‘But now—’
‘We’re with you on whatever you decide, Doc,’ Beth declared and her husband nodded in agreement.
For a full two minutes, Doc made no reply. He stood like a statue and with only his eyes betraying the inner turmoil he was experiencing. Two different sensations were warring inside him; bitterness over the thought of how his parents were murdered and the memory of his recently taken Hippocratic oath. lxiv He had never taken lightly his duties in the healing field and even less so since he had received his degree as a Doctor of Medicine.
Knowing what conflicts he must be enduring, neither Doc’s wife, her sister, nor his very close friend offered to speak and influence his decision. In. spite of all he had learned about the way in which Lashricker—or Lindrick—was containing a highly explosive situation, Waco refused to make any suggestions to the man whose skill as a surgeon had on one occasion saved him from death. It was, the young peace officer appreciated, something which Doc must face alone.
At last, a shudder shook the pallid-faced young man and he stiffened as it ended.
‘Have our gear brought to the Lashrickers’ place, Waco!’ Doc requested and his voice held the commanding note which always came into it when he was about to commence a medical or surgical chore. ‘Lynn, Beth, I can’t do any appendectomy on my own. I’m going to need help.’
‘You’ve got it,’ Beth promised without hesitation and, too full of her emotions to speak, Lynn nodded.
‘There’s one thing, though,’ Doc went on, eyeing the sisters in a warning manner. ‘What you’ll be seeing won’t be pretty. So, happen you have to swoon, fall backwards and not across the patient.’
‘That’s my husband!’ Lynn Leroy ejaculated, slapping her thighs in mock exasperation, watching Doc striding away in the direction of the town. There was pride in her voice as she continued. ‘Always the doctor.’
WACO 6: DOC LEROY M.D.
By J. T. Edson
First published by Transworld Publishers in 1977
Copyright © 1977, 2017 by J. T. Edson
First Smashwords Edition: December 2017
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book
Series Editor: Mike Stotter
Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Published by Arrangement with the Author’s Agent.
Author’s Note
According to the information I gathered in Fort Worthy the sick man was Hayden Paul Lindrick and, as a result of Doc Leroy’s skillful ministrations, he recovered fr
om the burst appendix. Furthermore, backed by Doc and Waco, he brought a peaceful and satisfactory conclusion to the right-of-way dispute. Doc also learned the truth about his parents’ death.
After leaving Lampasas County, Lindrick had quit Texas. Finding himself employed under the assumed name ‘Haynes Parker Lashricker’ as a trouble-shooter for the Union Pacific Railroad, he had contrived to carry out his duties without drawing attention to himself. Then he had been assigned to help build railways in Mexico and Central America. As his return to the United States coincided with the right-of-way dispute on the U.P.R.’s spur line to Kenton, he had gone there to take control and contain the trouble.
As the Colt Pocket Pistols had been a present from his mother, Lindrick had been disinclined to part with them. So, although he had realized they might offer a clue to his true identity, he had retained them and, when it became feasible, had them rechambered for metallic cartridges. They had been stolen by Blaby, but Lindrick had not sent Royster to retrieve them. Having learned where the young thief had gone, the hire gun had followed of his own initiative, hoping to earn Lashricker’s approbation by returning with the highly prized weapons.
Finally, hearing that Doc was coming to Kenton and Waco had been asked to meet him, Lindrick had decided the time had come for him to learn the truth. So the invitation was made, but the burst appendix intervened. On his recovery, Lindrick and Doc had become good friends. Having helped to bring the right-of-way dispute to an end, the young Texan had returned to Two Forks. There, until he died, he was in practice and was known to everybody in Utah as DOC LEROY, M.D.
About the Author
J.T. Edson was a former British Army dog-handler who wrote more than 130 Western novels, accounting for some 27 million sales in paperback. Edson’s works - produced on a word processor in an Edwardian semi at Melton Mowbray - contain clear, crisp action in the traditions of B-movies and Western television series. What they lack in psychological depth is made up for by at least twelve good fights per volume. Each portrays a vivid, idealized “West That Never Was”, at a pace that rarely slackens.
