The Last Outlaw(23)
Jake closed his eyes and leaned back. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Doc. I just woke up and saw the state my wife is in, and that really woke me up! And I am too mean to die, so start helping Randy, not me. And I’m sorry about your nurse. I don’t usually yell at women.”
The doctor sighed, walking over to a cabinet to take out some scissors and clean gauze, along with a brown bottle. “This iodine will help stave off infection. I’ll put more on those stitches as soon as I have a look at them.” He pulled a chair to the side of Jake’s bed and cut off the gauze. A little dried blood made the gauze stick, and Jake winced when the doctor pulled it away. “Someone named Jeff called while you were still unconscious,” he told Jake. “I spoke with him and explained what happened and what kind of injuries you have.”
The mention of Jeff brought a faint smile to Jake’s lips. He glanced at Randy, who still sat on the edge of the bed, wiping at her eyes with her other hand.
“Oh, Jake, it’s nice to know Jeff called,” she told him. “Isn’t that typical of him?”
The doctor gently applied iodine to Jake’s stitches, and he winced with pain. “It sure is,” he answered Randy. “I’ll bet he’s madder than hell that he wasn’t here to see the shoot-out.” The doctor began taping a clean patch of gauze over his stitches. “I can just imagine what Jeff is thinking right now,” Jake continued. “He and Peter are probably shaking their heads over this one.”
Randy smiled, but then the tears came. “Don’t be angry with me for not eating, Jake. I thought you would die! I couldn’t leave you.”
He reached over and took her hand. “When have I ever been truly angry with you? I’m angry with others who should have seen you needed some medical help of your own.” He scowled at the doctor, who finished covering the wound.
“Well, do forgive me,” the man said with a hint of sarcasm. “I was a little busy trying to keep you from bleeding to death.”
Jake couldn’t help a faint grin. “Yeah, well, you still should have been concerned about my wife. You can see how thin she is. She barely eats.”
The doctor looked Randy over. “Have you been sick, Mrs. Harkner?”
“No, I—” Randy glanced at Jake.
“It’s just a woman thing, I think,” Jake lied. Randy wouldn’t want the doctor to know the truth. It was important that no one outside of the J&L know, and she’d be devastated to have to talk about it. “You know how things change for women when they get a little older. She’s been depressed.”
“Well, I have a tonic that might help that.” Doctor Snow put back the scissors. “It’s in the outer office. I’ll see about it.”
He left the room, and Jake looked at Randy. “You stay here when the nurse brings that food. I want to witness you eating. I love you and I need you and I’m not going to sit around and watch you dry up and blow away like the wind, Randy Harkner.”
The doctor returned with a brown bottle and a spoon. “Take a teaspoon of this a couple of times a day, Mrs. Harkner. I’ll check you over after you’ve cleaned up and eaten. And we have a bathing room behind that door over there.” He turned his attention to Jake. “My nurse can help your wife clean up.” He frowned. “When you wake up…you wake up in a big way! Apparently I don’t need to wonder if you’re better. I saw enough of those old bullet wounds on your body that by all rights you should have died a long time ago.”
Jake put a hand to his head. “Well, Doc, for some reason, the Good Lord keeps me alive to keep putting this poor woman here through hell—and to keep doctors like you on their toes. I have a son-in-law who’s a doctor, and between me and six grandchildren and accidents on the ranch, he hardly gets a day’s rest, especially during roundup and branding.”
The doctor sighed. “Mr. Harkner, I’ve heard plenty about you. How in God’s name you could be so badly wounded and still manage to put bullets into the heads of those men holding hostages, I will never understand. I didn’t see it, but witnesses say it was phenomenal, the best damn demonstration of fast and accurate shooting a man could ask for. By now it’s in all the newspapers.”
“They had my wife and granddaughter. I didn’t have any choice.”
“Still, it was quite something. The mayor and some other city officials are talking about asking you to be our new sheriff. Our own was shot dead by one of those bastards.”
Jake felt Randy’s hand tighten around his. “No, thanks. I have a big family back on the J&L, and I would never leave. My wife went through enough when I was a marshal back in Oklahoma.”