Garcia opened his eyes, and the doctor held the bottle to his mouth.
“Drink this,” he said.
Garcia took the liquid, then closed his eyes again.
“Help me get his shirt off, Pearl.”
The doctor and his wife removed Garcia’s shirt. Then the doctor picked up a long, slender instrument and began probing for the bullet. As the doctor and his wife worked on Garcia, the others began to eat the bacon and scrambled eggs McKenna had cooked for them, totally unconcerned with the ordeal Garcia was going through.
“Mr. Moran, would you be for making a couple of bacon and egg sandwiches and taking them out to the Hill brothers?” Malcolm asked Moran when he saw that Moran was finished eating.
“All right,” Moran said as he went about his task.
“How are you progressing, Doctor?” Malcolm asked, calling over to the bed where the doctor and his wife were busily attending to Garcia.
“We are doing quite well, thank you. The bleeding has stopped, and digging for the bullet hasn’t initiated any new hemorrhaging.”
“Good. Continue with your task.”
For the next several minutes the doctor and his wife bent over the unconscious form of the wounded outlaw, talking quietly between themselves, using words that none of the men could understand. “Good, I was worried about secondary atelectasis, but despite the bullet insult, I don’t think the lung has collapsed,” Dr. Tillman said.
“I don’t think so, either,” Pearl said. “He seems to be aspirating normally.”
After what seemed like several minutes, the doctor announced that he had successfully removed the bullet and he dropped it with a clink into the pan of warm water. The bullet lay in the bottom of the pan with tiny bubbles of blood rising to paint a swirl of red on the water’s surface. None of the eaters seemed particularly interested in his announcement.
“So, you’re finished up, are you, Doc?” Pogue asked, coming over to stand by the bed.
“I’ve got the bullet out.”
“Good, hurry up and get him patched up so’s we can put him back on his horse and get out of here.”
“Are you insane? If you move him now, it will kill him.”
Malcolm came over to join the conversation. “What is going on?” he asked.
“This fool wants to put this man on a horse and leave,” the doctor said. “I just told him that he can’t do that. If he tries to move him, it will kill him.”
“Doctor, you don’t seem to understand our situation,” Malcolm said. “We must be going. We can’t stay around while Mr. Garcia recovers.”
“Then, by all means, go. Leave your friend here. I will take care of him until he is recovered.”
“And, no doubt, turn him over to the law,” Malcolm said.
“Suppose I do turn him over to the law? Isn’t incarceration preferable to dying?”
“You ain’t never been incarcerated, have you, Doc?” Pettigrew asked.
“Of course not.”
“It ain’t necessarily preferable,” Pettigrew said.
“Come on, Garcia. Get up!”
Garcia blinked his eyes a couple of times, then closed them again.
“He can’t even hear you now,” the doctor said. “He has passed out.”
“Why don’t we leave him here, like the doc said?” McKenna asked.
“We can’t do that. He knows where we’re goin’, He might talk.”
“Garcia won’t talk,” McKenna said. “He’s a good man, he won’t talk.”
“We killed two people in that holdup,” Pettigrew said. “That means if we get caught, we’re goin’ to hang. If they tell him they won’t hang him if he’ll help ’em find us, are you tellin’ me he won’t talk?”
“We didn’t kill two people in the holdup, Pettigrew,” McKenna said. “You did.”
Malcolm listened to the discussion between the two men and knew that there was only one thing to be done. He knew also that, if he was to maintain the position of leadership among these men, he was the one who was going to have to do it. He walked over to the bed and picked up a pillow, then pushed it down over Garcia’s face.
“Here, what are you doing? Stop it! You are killing him!” Pearl shouted. She reached for pillow, but Malcolm continued to press it down over Garcia’s face.
“Doctor, do you want your wife to risk her life to save an outlaw?” Malcolm asked, sharply.
“Pearl, come away!” the doctor said.
“But, John, don’t you see what he is doing?”
“Yes, he is killing the patient,” the doctor said. “But better him than us.”
