his wife, you say?”
“Yes, sir. You gotta keep her alive, Doctor. I come over here with her. I’m responsible for her. I shoulda gone into the bank with her, but instead I was all the way down to the other end of the street in the store, buying a stick of candy. I shoulda been in the bank with her.”
“What is your name?” Dr. Gunther asked.
“It’s Cal. Cal Wood. I work for Smoke and Miss Sally back at Sugarloaf.”
“Look at it this way, Cal. If you had been in there, you might have been killed as well. Then for sure you could have done nothing for her.”
“Doctor Gunther, she is ready,” Tamara called from the other side of the room.
Cal and Dr. Gunther returned to the table. Sally was lying on her back, her eyes closed, her head turned to one side. Abed sheet covered her shoulders and breasts. A second bed sheet covered her legs and lower abdomen. There was only about a six inch area of her belly exposed. The bullet wound, an ugly black hole, was about an inch and a half to the left, and on line with her belly button.
Dr. Gunther used warm salt water to wash away the blood, so only the dark red, almost black hole marred the smooth, white skin. Then, leaning down, he began sniffing.
“What are you doing?” Cal asked.
“If the bullet hit any of the vital organs inside, I should be able to smell it.” The doctor got his nose so close to the bullet hole it was almost touching her skin, and he sniffed again. “That’s good.” He rose up.
“What did you smell?”
“Nothing. That’s why I say it is good.” Gunther got a bulb syringe and began using it to aspirate blood from the wound. After that, he bathed the wound in warm salt water. He took a clean cloth from a cupboard, poured a bit of chloroform onto it, and handed the cloth to Tamara.
“I am going to have to probe for the bullet. If she awakens during the procedure, hold this over her nose and mouth for a count of three. Only until the count of three, mind you. Then take it away. Holding it there any longer could be dangerous.”
“All right,” Tamara said, taking the strong smelling cloth from him.
For the next step in the procedure Dr. Gunther used a Nelaton probe, which was a long probe with a tiny porcelain bulb on the end. After first pouring alcohol over the end of the probe, he stuck it into the wound, then followed the trajectory of the bullet until he hit something hard.
“I found something.”
“The bullet?” Tamara asked.
“Either the bullet or bone. We’ll know in just a moment.” Gunther withdrew the Nelaton probe and examined the porcelain tip. “Yes, there it is.” He pointed to a little gray smudge on the tip. “You see that? That’s lead from the bullet.”
After having found the bullet he picked up a pair of long legged forceps and pushed them into the wound. Sally began to regain consciousness.
“The chloroform,” Dr. Gunther said quickly.
Tamara applied the chloroform cloth to Sally’s nose and mouth, and counted to three. When she pulled it away, Sally was unconscious again.
“Good.” Dr. Gunther pushed the forceps into the wound until he encountered the bullet. Moving slowly and delicately, he probed around, then he pulled the bullet out and dropped it into a pan of water that was sitting near the operating table. Little bubbles of blood formed a string of red beads from the bullet to the surface of the water.
Gunther walked over to a glass front cabinet, opened the door, then took out a small, brown bottle. “I’m glad she is still unconscious,” he said, as he pulled the stopper from the bottle.
“Why is that?” Cal sked.
“I need to disinfect the wound.” Gunther held up the bottle. “This is iodine, and it will burn like the blazes.” After pouring iodine on the wound, he took strips of gauze bandage and wrapped them around her.
“What happens now?” Cal said.
“I will keep her here overnight, then we need to find a place for her to go while she recuperates.”
“Can I take her back home?”
Dr. Gunther shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. The trip would be far too dangerous for her.”
“She can stay with me, Doctor,” Tamara said.
“That would be good. You could keep an eye on her, and I can check in several times a day,” Dr. Gunther said.
“Doc, I need to send a telegram to Smoke,” Cal said. “What should I tell him?”
“Tell him that Mrs. Jensen was seriously wounded, but that the outlook is hopeful.”
Pearlie was trying to wrestle a calf down so it could be branded, but the calf was fighting him and Pearlie lost his balance. He fell and the calf fell on top of him.
Smoke started laughing, and he laughed so hard he had to hold on to his sides. “Pearlie, you’ve got that backwards, haven’t you? You are supposed to throw the calf! He’s not supposed to throw you!” Smoke hooted, unable to stop the laughing.
“Get off me, calf.” Pearlie pushed the animal to one side, and stood up, brushing the dirt off his clothes. Looking
