He led his men toward the border.
* * *
Late the next day Doolin rode into Ingalls. He was accompanied by Jack Blake and Dick Clifton, who stared suspiciously at passersby on the street. Outside the hotel the men assisted him off his horse and he hobbled inside on one foot. The desk clerk nodded to them with a sallow smile.
“Afternoon, gentlemen.”
“I want a room,” Doolin ordered. “Give me one on the ground floor.”
“Yessir,” the clerk said. “How long will you be staying with us?”
“Till I’m ready to leave. Let’s have a key.”
Doolin signed the register as John Smith and took the key from the clerk. Then he turned to his men. “Jack, go find the local sawbones and send him over here. After that, get the girl I told you about and bring her along. Got it straight?”
“Sure thing, Bill.”
Blake hurried out the door. Doolin, one arm around Clifton’s shoulders, limped off down the hallway. Once inside the room he tossed his hat aside and flopped down on the bed. A dark stain, crusted with blood, covered the arch of his left boot. He pulled a jackknife from his pocket and flicked open the blade. He handed it to Clifton.
“Let’s get that boot cut off, Dick. Hurts like a bastard, so take it easy.”
While he watched Clifton work on the boot, Doolin silently cursed poor timing and bad luck. Yesterday, as the gang crossed into Oklahoma Territory, they’d been intercepted by the Beaver County sheriff and a posse. A running gunfight ensued, and a stray bullet had hit Doolin in the foot. None of the other men were wounded, though over a hundred shots had been exchanged. Finally, under cover of darkness, they had escaped the posse.
Doolin had made an on-the-spot decision. With the alarm sounded, every lawman in the territory would be on the scout. There was safety in numbers, and he’d chosen to keep the gang together. The nearest hideout was the Dunn brothers’ ranch, and he had led his men eastward through the night. Some of the men already knew about the Dunn brothers, and he saw nothing to lose by taking them there. He had to get them out of sight as fast as possible.
Bee and George Dunn were of another mind. Hiding Doolin was one thing, but harboring the entire gang was a far riskier matter. Harsh words were exchanged, and the Dunns had finally agreed after being given a full share in the loot from the holdup. Doolin had left Will Dalton in charge, and departed for town with Blake and Clifton. The law knew nothing of the Dunns or his visits to Ingalls, so there was little chance of being caught out. All the more so since the townspeople could have long ago betrayed him. His affair with the Ellsworth girl was hardly a secret.
The doctor arrived first. After examining Doolin’s foot, he found that the bullet was embedded on the inside of the arch. He gave Doolin a dose of laudanum to kill the pain, and then began laying out instruments. While Clifton held Doolin’s foot steady, the doctor went to work with a scalpel. Doolin gritted his teeth, clutching the bedposts, his forehead beaded with sweat. At last, with the incision completed, the doctor extracted the slug with a pair of forceps. He dropped it into a johnnypot at the side of the bed.
Edith Ellsworth arrived just as the doctor finished stitching the wound. The laudanum had taken effect, and Doolin seemed to have recovered his composure. He ordered Clifton to pay the doctor and wait in the lobby with Blake until he sent for them. The doctor promised to return in the morning and change the dressings he’d applied on Doolin’s foot. Then, nodding to the girl, he followed Clifton out of the room.
The girl was nothing if not brave. She had long ago accepted the fact that the man she loved was an outlaw. He explained the events of the last twenty-four hours, and she listened without tears. She was short, somewhat plump, by no means the prettiest girl in town. But he’d treated her like a lady and often declared his intention to make an honest woman of her. There was never any question in her mind that she would stand beside him. Wounded, he needed her more than ever.
“Don’t worry,” Doolin said, holding her close. “I’ll be as good as new before you know it.”
She was silent a moment. The outlaw life frightened her, though she’d never voiced her fears before. Still, given the situation, she thought it was worth a try. She wanted a live husband.
“Bill,” she said softly. “Did you mean it, all those times you told me we’d get married?”
“Why sure, I meant it.” Doolin was somewhat taken aback by the question. “Why’d you bring that up now?”
“Would you quit?” she asked, beseeching him. “Would you marry me and leave this life? Start over somewhere?”
“Honey, I always intended to quit. Just as soon as I build us a stake.”
“What good’s a stake if you’re dead? You always said the law wouldn’t get you. Now, here you are shot and hurt and the law—”
“Won’t happen,” Doolin interrupted. “The law’s not gonna get me. Don’t fret yourself about it.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “I waited to tell you till I was sure.…” She wiped away tears, took a deep breath. “Bill, I’m in a family way. I want a father for our baby. And I want a husband—a live husband!—not a memory.”
“Godalmighty.” Doolin stared at her with a foolish grin. “I’m gonna be a daddy?”
“Yes, I’m almost two months along.”
“Then it’s high time we got married. You go round up a preacher. Bring your ma and pa along, too.”
She looked stunned. “You mean now—here?”
“Nothing else,” Doolin said, laughing. “Today’s our weddin’ day!”
“And you’ll quit?” she pressed him. “We’ll go away?”
“Honey, I’ve got a plan, had one
