He watched as the conditions of the street and the buildings improved in stages the farther they got from the docks.
“Why set up shop near the docks?” he asked. “Wouldn’t you be more accepted in this area?”
“Maybe,” she said, “but I wanted to go where I was needed.”
“Only they don’t know they need you, huh?”
“Not yet,” she said, “but they’re coming around. I’m actually getting some business right from the docks—sailors, teamsters, they need medical help quickly.”
“And you’re the nearest sawbones, huh?”
“Exactly.”
Lissa Sugarman was not only a good doctor, she was a smart lady.
She pulled her buggy to a stop in front of a restaurant with two large plate glass windows. Etched on both windows was the name DOMINO’S. Clint thought the fancy lettering almost made it look as if it said DELMONICO’S—a famous New York steak house. He wondered if that was deliberate.
As they entered, a portly, middle-aged tuxedoed man came rushing over to them with a big smile on his face, and Clint knew the smile was not for him. Looking around the place, Clint wished he had dressed better.
“Ah, Doc Veracruz, so nice to see you again,” the man said.
“Hello, Roscoe. Table for two?”
“For you? Of course. This way.”
Lissa took Clint’s arm. She was wearing a pretty red dress that didn’t look expensive, but was certainly presentable. It was also tight enough to show off all her attributes. Men watched her walk across the floor, which made Clint proud that she was on his arm. Also, if they were looking at her, they weren’t looking at him, which suited him.
The man showed them to a table, but Clint could see another table against the back wall, which he preferred.
“Could we get that one?” he asked, pointing.
“Of course, sir.” He had dropped two menus onto the table, so now he picked them up and showed them to the other table.
“Ben will be your waiter,” he told them.
“Thank you, Roscoe,” Lissa said.
“Did I offend him asking for this table?” Clint asked. He didn’t really care. He preferred to sit with a wall near him.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “He just didn’t consider this one of his better tables. He was trying to please me.”
“I don’t want to damage your reception here in the future.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I think Roscoe has a little crush on me.”
“I think so, too.”
FOUR
Clint could see why Domino’s was Lissa’s favorite restaurant. The steaks were perfectly prepared and the coffee was hot and strong.
“That name,” Clint said when they had gotten to their desserts.
“What name is that?”
“ ‘Doc Veracruz,’ ” Clint said. “Isn’t that what he called you when we came in?”
She smiled.
“That’s just something he calls me,” she said. “A nickname.”
“Does anybody else call you that, or just him?” Clint asked.
“It might be catching on,” she said. “I’m finally starting to build up a list of patients.”
“It must have been frustrating to you when you first arrived,” he said. “I mean, not being accepted.”
“It was extremely frustrating,” she agreed. “Luckily, I came here with some savings that I was able to live on until I started getting some patients.”
“So you’re able to make a living now?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I’m still not making enough money. I only have a few patients per week. Sometimes, when a ship comes in, there’ll be a rush. Deckhands usually arrive with some kind of injury, or ailment. That’s when it helps that I’m the closest physician.”
“Why don’t you have a shingle out?”
“I did have,” she said. “Someone took it down the first day. I replaced it, but it was removed again. After a few more times I finally stopped.”
“So then how do they find you?”
“The word gets around,” she said. “How did you find me?”
“I see your point.”
“I went around and talked to several of the hotels in the area. In exchange for free treatment for their employees, they agreed to send me business.”
“That was a smart move,” he said. “So, where in the East did you come here from?”
“I sort of worked my way here,” she said. “I spent some time in Saint Louis and Kansas City, a little bit in Texas, before I finally settled in Veracruz.”
He noticed she hadn’t answered the question about where she had started from. He decided if she didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t push her.
On the other side of the restaurant a man and woman tried not to stare at Dr. Sugarman and the man she was with.
“There’s that woman,” the lady said. “She hasn’t left town yet?”
Her husband stole a look over his shoulder, then back across the table at his wife.
“Don’t worry, Lillian,” he said. “It’s being handled.”
“By who?” she demanded. “Not by you, that’s for sure. When will you be a man and do something, Oliver?”
Oliver Graham stared at his wife, wishing he were man enough to put a bullet into her face—or at least his fist. He knew men who kept their women in line by hitting them, but they had apparently started very early. Graham had already been married to Lillian for twenty years, and in all that time had never laid a hand on her in anger. His friend, Henry Colter, had once told him he should have smacked Lillian the first night of their honeymoon, just to make the point that he was in charge. Oliver had never told Henry they didn’t even have a honeymoon.
“Lillian . . .”
“What, Oliver?” she demanded. “What? Are you going to warn me about something?” She drew out the word waaaarn to mock him. “That woman is going to start cutting into your business, you mark my words. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was a doctor and a whore. How would you compete with that?”
Certainly not with you turning tricks, he wanted to tell her. No man would pay for her wrinkled face and breasts.
“It’s being handled, Lillian,” he said, “so stop throwing hateful glances over that way.”
“Hateful?” she demanded. “You think I’m hateful?”
He knew his wife hated Lissa Sugarman more for being beautiful than for being a doctor, but if he said so, he’d never hear the end of it. Maybe he should say it, though. By the time they got home, he might be ready to go ahead and put that bullet in her face.
“What are you going to do, Oliver?” she demanded.
“I’m going to have a slice of apple pie, my dear,” he said.
FIVE
“Do you know the couple who is leaving now?” Clint asked Lissa.
She looked up, saw the man and woman, and nodded her head.
“Oh yes,” she said. “Oliver and Mrs. Graham.”
“What’s their interest in you?”
“Well. He’s Dr. Oliver Graham,” Lissa said, “and as his wife, Lillian just simply hates me.”
“I think there’s probably more to it than that,” he said.
“Oh?”
“I’ve seen women look at women that way before,” he said. “It usually has something to do with one of them being beautiful, and one not.”
Lissa Sugarman looked shocked. Obviously, she was a woman who didn’t define herself by her appearance, so being told she was beautiful came as a shock.
“You’re saying she hates me because . . . because I’m prettier than she is?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, that’s just . . . ridiculous.”
“It’s true,” he said. “I’ve seen it many times before.”
“I’m sure . . . I’m sure it’s something . . . else,” she said, touching her face, and pulling her hand away quickly.
“Do you know the best thing about a beautiful woman
?” he asked. “I mean, a truly beautiful woman?”
She frowned at him.
“What?”
“She doesn’t know she’s beautiful.”
Red-faced, she said, “Well, now you’re just being silly. I think we should go.”
“I want my dessert,” Clint said. “Besides, if we go out there now, we might come face-to-face with Dr. and Mrs. Graham. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“Well, no . . .”
“And you wouldn’t want to deprive me of my peach pie, would you?”
“Of course not.”
“Good,” he said. “Then let’s have our coffee and dessert.”
When they went outside, they drew a few looks from people on the street, but Clint put it down to Lissa’s beauty.
“People are looking at you, too, you know,” she said as they climbed into her buggy.
“No,” he said, “they’re looking at you.”
She smiled, brightened, and said, “Maybe we just make a striking couple.”
“That could be it,” he said.
She got her horse going, turned him, and headed up the street at a trot, expertly avoiding other wagons along the way.
“But you are the Gunsmith,” she said. “Don’t people recognize you on the street?”
“Sometimes,” he said. “I was just hoping that wouldn’t happen as often down here.”
“Have you been to Veracruz before?”
“A long time ago.”
She was about to ask another question when she noticed some commotion up ahead.
“Looks like an accident,” she said.
Clint saw that two wagons had apparently collided. One was lying over on its side, and there seemed to be people injured.
Lissa pulled her buggy over to the side and dropped down to the ground, shouting at Clint, “Bring my bag!”
SIX
Clint reached the scene, carrying Lissa’s bag. He noticed she had already hiked up her skirt and gotten down on her knees next to a couple of injured kids.
“What happened?” she asked a woman who must have been their mother.
“They were crossing the street when this runaway wagon came along,” the mother said.
“It hit them?”
“No,” the mother said, “another wagon tried to avoid the runaway, and that one ran over my children. Oh God, are they all right?”
“I don’t know yet, ma’am,” Lissa said. She looked up and reached out to Clint. “My bag!”
He hurriedly handed her the bag.
“Can I do anything else?” he asked.
“Just keep the people back.”
He looked around and saw, on the other side of the wagon, that Dr. Graham was treating some people. He wondered why that doctor had not gone first to the children.
Behind Graham stood his wife, Lillian, and when she noticed Clint and Lissa, she shouted, “What is she doing here?”
“She’s trying to help people!” Clint shouted back.
The woman gave him a stern look.
“She doesn’t belong here!” she snapped.
“Why don’t you shut up and help your husband,” Clint said.
She jerked back as if he had slapped her, then bent to shout at her husband.
“Did you hear what this man said—”
“Lillian,” Dr. Graham shouted, “if you’re not going to help, then you should shut up and stand back.”
Suddenly, Clint felt some respect for the doctor.
Graham abruptly looked up at him and asked, “Can you help? This man is pinned.”
“Do you need me, Lissa?” he asked. “I think I can help on the other side.”
“Go ahead,” she said without looking up.
Clint stepped to Graham’s side and saw that the man he was working on was pinned by the legs. There were no lawmen around, and bystanders were just gawking.
“These people are just staring,” Graham said to Clint. “Can you get some men to help you lift the wagon so I can get this man out from beneath it?”
“Done,” Clint said. He turned and didn’t ask. “You, you, and you, big man, come on. Help me lift this wagon.”
The big man was about six and a half feet tall and did most of the work himself. They got the wagon up off the man’s legs and Dr. Graham pulled him out.
“Clear!” he said.
They dropped the wagon back to the ground.
Now it was in the hands of both doctors. Clint saw that there were two more injured men, presumably the two drivers. They were both standing off to one side, each holding themselves where they were hurt—arm and shoulder.
So presumably, the man on the ground and the two children had been in the street, caught between the two colliding wagons.
Clint did his best to keep the people back, drafting the big man to help him. Between them they got both doctors room to work until the sheriff showed up and took over.
Finally, the doctors got their three injured patients loaded onto a buckboard. Dr. Graham’s office was the closest, so they were brought there.
“Is there a hospital in Veracruz?” Clint asked Lissa.
“No,” she said.
“So why don’t we try to have them taken to your place?” he asked.
“Graham’s is closer, he responded first, and he has more room,” she said. “It’s to their benefit to be taken there. That’s all I’m concerned about.”
Clint and Lissa turned as Dr. Graham approached them, carrying his jacket over one arm.
“Thank you for your help, Doctor,” he said. “You probably saved that little girl’s life.”
“I was glad to help, Doctor.”
Clint looked past Graham, saw his wife approaching with a furious look on her face.
“Here comes your wife,” he said.
Graham rolled his eyes and said, “Thanks for the warning.”
He turned and intercepted his wife before she could reach them. As he guided her away, she jerked her arm from his and started giving him an earful.
“He seems like a good doctor,” Clint said.
“He is,” Lissa said. “Come on, I’ll take you back to your hotel.”
SEVEN
When they stopped in front of Clint’s hotel, he did not step down right away.
“You’re a good doctor,” he told her.
“All you had was a sprained foot.”
“No,” he said, “I’m talking about those people in the accident. You were very good with those kids.”
“It’s my job.”
“But you love it.”
“Oh, yes,” she said.
“And Dr. Graham noticed it, too.”
“And he’s getting an earful from his wife even as we speak,” she said. “That poor man.”
“Are there any other doctors in town?” he asked.
“No,” she said, “just him and me.”
“And no hospital.”
“No, but he’s trying to build one.”
“If he does,” Clint said, “he’ll need more doctors.”
“If he asks,” she said, “I’d have to consider it. Until then, we have our own . . . practices.”
“Well,” he said, stepping down, “thanks for dinner. And for fixing my foot.”
“How does it feel?”
“Fine, actually,” he said. “I’d forgotten all about it . . . until now.”
“Well, don’t forget to stay off it.”
“I’ll try.”
He put his hand out and she took it.
“Sure you don’t need help putting your buggy up?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine,” she said with a smile. “See you around.”
“Let me know if I can help you with . . . anything,” he said.
“You don’t owe me anything, Clint,” she said. “You paid my bill.”
“That’s fine,” he said, “but I’ll be in Veracruz for a while. Just remember, if you need me, all you have to do is ask.”
“I will remember,�
�� she said. “Thanks.”
He nodded. She shook the reins at her horse and headed off at a trot. He turned and went into his hotel. His foot had started to throb and he wanted to take his boot off.
While Dr. Oliver Graham went to work on the injured from the accident, his wife told him she was going home.
“I’ll see you there later, dear,” he said. “This might take a while.”
As she left, he was thinking he certainly could have used the help of Dr. Sugarman. Once he got his hospital up and running, he wondered how he was going to explain to his wife that he was going to offer Dr. Sugarman a position.
When she left her husband, Lillian Graham did not go home. She went to a hotel not far from the one Clint was staying in. She drew looks as she walked through the lobby, not because she was beautiful—she wasn’t—but because she was dressed too well for the place.
She did not stop at the front desk, but headed directly upstairs to the second floor. She walked to Room 5 and knocked. The man who opened the door was about forty, with a scarred, squared-jawed face. When he saw her, he smiled.
“Hiya, baby.”
As usual, when he called her “baby,” she got a chill.
“Come on in here,” he said, grabbing the front of her dress and yanking her into the room.
EIGHT
His name was Rufus. He made his living by hurting people. This was something that excited some women. But he was also ugly. That was something that excited women less. So when he found a woman who was excited by him, he forgave a lot.
This doctor’s wife was not attractive. She had a face like an axe, but Rufus found that if he stripped her naked and turned her over, she looked okay. She must have been in her late forties, but she had a pretty good body. And she also knew what to do in bed with a man—just lie there and let him have his way.
He knew the scars on his face had excited her from the beginning, but now after a few months he knew what else excited her.
He bunched the front of her dress in his fist, pulled her to him, and kissed her hard. Then he held her at arm’s length and tore the clothes from her body. She stood there with her dress in tatters, her naked breasts heaving as she breathed hard. She had remarkably good breasts for a woman her age, full, heavy, with big brown nipples.
The Lady Doctor's Alibi Page 2
