Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2) (8 page)

I stepped toward the mother. Her son lay in her lap, a bright red splotch spreading over his left shoulder.

“Why would you do that?” Clyde asked, stepping closer to me.

I heaved a sigh. No getting around it. “I have some medical experience.”

“You a doctor?” Lyle asked, shifting his hold on his brother, Ernie, who groaned.

“I used to be.”

Lyle’s face lit up. “See, told you Clyde. There is a doc on board.”

Clyde, glowered at him, “Shut up, Lyle.” He turned to me, waving me over with the gun. “Fine, you’re coming with us. You can treat Ernie once we’re off the train.”

“No!” Lydia shot up out of her seat.

I groaned under my breath, but stepped between Clyde and Lydia. She tried to shove past me.

“Woman, you’re begging for a bullet,” Clyde said.

“Let him treat the boy first,” Lydia said.

Clyde glanced at the boy in question. “He’ll be fine. It’s just a shoulder wound. Ernie’s worse off. Come on, Doc. We’re leaving.”

The rest of the bandits, including Lyle and Ernie, headed for the back door, pushing me along with them, but Lydia stepped in front of Clyde.

“I should shoot you right now,” he said, his voice a dangerous threat.

“If you do, I won’t do anything for your man,” I said. I shot Lydia a look that I hoped warned her to keep her mouth shut.

“You shot that boy, you owe him and his mother the courtesy of allowing Dr. Wilder to look at the injury,” Lydia said. She crossed her arms and stared up at Clyde, her expression brooking no argument.

Clyde’s face turned all kinds of shades of red, and I really thought he’d put the muzzle of his gun to her head and shoot her dead, then kick her warm body out of his way, but he surprised me by shifting out to the side and shoving me toward the boy.

“Go. Deal with the kid. But make it fast.”

I stepped over the dead hero to check on the boy. He was pale and unconscious. I glanced up at his mother as I sidled in closer. Tears streamed down her face as she brushed the boy’s hair off his forehead.

“Can you save him?” she whispered.

I wasn’t sure yet he even needed saving so much as just needed treatment. Cold sweat slicked my hands. The last person I’d treated—that last one I cared about whether or not they survived—hadn’t fared so well under my hands, and I hadn’t touched another patient since.

“What’s the matter?” Lydia asked, kneeling next to me, her face creased with worry. “Is he that bad?”

My mouth had gone dry as the cold winter air outside. I tried to swallow, and barely managed. “It’s been a while since I’ve done any doctoring,” I said.

“Isn’t it something you never forget?”

I’d tried to forget all the doctoring I’d done during the war, but those were stubborn memories, and the rest of it? It took effort, but I’d managed to push it away for over a year.

I glanced up at Clyde, who was arguing with Lyle, then back to Lydia. I leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

She pulled back and looked me in the eye with an expression that said, ‘don’t be silly.’

“Of course you can,” she said.

“You don’t understand. I did things…I made mistakes…I can’t—shouldn’t—treat another person,” I said, my voice more beseeching than I’d meant for it to be, but the way my heart thundered, I couldn’t control it. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt him,” I whispered my deepest fear to her.

Her face relaxed, and a small smile curled her lips. She placed her hand on my shoulder, warm and comforting. “Emmett, there’s no way you’ll hurt that boy,” she said, then leaned in closer and looked me straight in the eye. “I believe in you.”

Her words shot a spike of fear through my gut. The idea that anybody would have such complete faith in me, especially someone I hardly knew, was terrifying. But then I thought about Lydia; how she was smart, practical, kind, and brave enough to stand up to Clyde when it came to protecting a child. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly as I opened my eyes. My pulse calmed some.

“Thank you,” I said, kissing her cheek. She blushed that pretty pink I liked.

“Hurry it up,” Clyde said. “We’re leaving.”

I turned and quickly tore open the boy’s shirt to examine the wound. It appeared that the bullet had entered above the subclavian artery. The pulse in his neck was strong, but fast; and the pulse in his wrist was the same, which told me his artery was still intact.

I lifted him so I could peek at his back, and found no exit wound.

“Doctor?” the mother asked.

“He’ll be fine,” I said, relieved. “I don’t think the bullet hit any vital organs or vessels. It’s likely lodged in the scapula. He’s probably just in shock from the pain and trauma of being shot. He’s lost blood, but not a dangerous amount.”

“So he’ll live,” Clyde said.

I looked up at him. “Yes, he’ll live.”

“Good. Let’s go,” he said. He grabbed hold of the shoulder of Lydia’s dress and dragged her to her feet. She stumbled into the aisle, her glasses askew, struggling to keep her footing and not fall over the dead hero’s corpse.

I scowled at Clyde, but turned to the mother. “Tear a piece of his shirt and use it to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, then bandage the wound and keep it covered. Try to get him to drink plenty of fluids, and when you get to a town, find the doctor for more treatment.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

I patted her hand, and only then did I stand and face Clyde. “Now we can go.”

“If Ernie dies, so do you,” Clyde said through clenched teeth.

I didn’t hold out much hope for Ernie, but didn’t say so to Clyde. Instead, I followed him to the door.

“Wait,” Lydia said. “You can’t take him with you.”

“Yes they can,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

“He just said he was going to kill you.”

“Only if Ernie dies. So I guess I need to keep Ernie alive.”

“Fine, then, I’m going with you,” she said, determined, apparently, to get herself killed too.

“What in the hell are you doing?” I hissed.

Clyde peered at me, then at Lydia, giving her a slow once-over. He shot me a lewd grin, before turning back to Lydia. “Lady, you’re surely more trouble than you’re worth, but if you’re so determined to defend the Doc, here, you can just ride along with us. I’m sure you’ll come in handy keeping him in line. And if not, I’m sure you’re good for something.”

He grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her out the door with us. Another man waited outside with horses loaded down with heavy bags slung over either side. Perhaps the train had been hauling some sort of payroll.

“Let’s ride, boys,” Clyde said.

“Where are we?” I whispered over my shoulder.

Emmett rode behind me on the same horse, the one I assumed belonged to Ernie. He rode slung over the saddle of his brother’s horse. All things considered, I wouldn’t be very put out if he died before we reached our destination.

On the other hand, if he did, Emmett wouldn’t be of much use. Grudgingly, I thought it might be prudent if the man survived.

“I have no idea. Somewhere in Wyoming,” Emmett said.

“Thanks, that’s a big help.”

His laugh rumbled against my back. “If it helps any, we’ve been heading northeast all morning.”

He was far more calm than he should have been. His life, and now mine, depended on Ernie surviving. I didn’t think Clyde cared one whit for Ernie’s life, but Emmett had showed him up in front of his men, which meant he had to pay one way or another. I understood men like that far too well; I’d grown up in a household with two of them, and now I was headed back to one of them. Well, I would be after this detour, assuming Clyde didn’t kill me.

My fingers had been numb for what seemed like ages, and I couldn’t tell how long we’d been riding, but dawn had come and gone and the sun had begun its crawl up the sky. I was hungry, and needed to empty my bladder before it emptied itself.

“What kind of thieves rob a train in November in Wyoming?” I grumbled, shoving my fingers into my armpits, seeking what little heat my body had left.

“Desperate ones?” Emmett said, wrapping his coat as far around me as it would go, and wrapping his arms the rest of the way.

“Stupid ones, if you ask me,” I said.

Lyle urged his horse up next to Clyde’s and asked, “When we gonna stop and have the Doc look at Ernie?”

“You want to just lay him out here in the snow? He’ll freeze before the Doc can save him,” he said.

“He won’t make it back to the hideout. He needs help now.”

“We’ll stop at the old Johnson homestead. It’s not far from here,” Clyde said.

He gave his horse his heels and cut to the west heading around behind a rocky outcrop. The rest of the horses plodded along without much enthusiasm through the foot or so of snow on the ground.

The traitorous sun, despite shining bright in the sky, was far too stingy with its heat.

“What are we going to do after you do what you can for that man?” I asked.

“Not sure,” Emmett said. He’d leaned in so his lips were right next to my ear. The shiver that wiggled down under my coat and slithered down my back could have been because of the cold, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think so. Emmett’s hot breath on my neck heated a spot on my skin against the otherwise cold air. It spawned intimate images of the warm tip of his tongue tracing the ridge of my ear. Sitting so snuggly tucked between his thighs with his arms wrapped around me, the length of his chest nestled close to my back, I had a hard time making my imagination behave, even given the cold and distinctly un-romantic situation.

Still, my skin remembered the sweetness of his lips on my cheek.

I cleared my throat and pushed the memory aside. “Well, I hate to bring it up, but if Ernie dies we’re in deep trouble. Do you think you can save him?”

I remembered his panic at treating the boy’s injury on the train. I’d have thought it fatal from Emmett’s reaction. He’d said something about making mistakes and had seemed terrified to even touch the boy. I wondered what he’d done to warrant that kind of reaction. I’d told him I trusted him, and I did, as far as I knew him. But still, what secrets darkened his past?

“I’m not too worried about it,” Emmett said, far too confidently in my opinion, given the situation. “A doctor’s always valuable. What I’m more worried about is them not letting us go.”

“I’ll just worry for both of us, then. Clyde doesn’t seem very rational. If Ernie dies, Clyde’s not going to consider how valuable your skills are. They’ve managed fine so far without a personal physician. Why would he care about it now?”

I didn’t mention my concern about whether or not he’d panic again when faced with treating Ernie. On the other hand, I had a hard time believing this group could keep anyone prisoner for very long. Our back trail in the snow would lead the law right to us.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

He came across as casual, but tension coiled his body tight. It warmed my heart he wanted to protect me, and soften the danger, but it also made me fuming angry. Did he really give me so little credit, that he thought I needed to be protected? Couldn’t he trust me enough that we could deal with the danger together? Ugh. Men.

A homestead, which I had to assume was the Johnson place, came into view as we rounded the rocks. It didn’t look occupied, nor did it look abandoned. I wondered what had happened to the Johnsons, because it didn’t appear that they still lived there.

We reached the house and the men scattered. Emmett slid off the back of our horse and helped me down, then a couple of the men—whose names I’d learned while eavesdropping on their conversations were Slim and Jed, took the horse—along with the others—to the barn. Lyle dismounted and he and another man named Pete maneuvered Ernie off the horse. Ernie groaned as they hauled him up onto the porch and into the house.

Clyde shouldered his way through the men and horses, unholstering his gun as he did. He pointed it at me, but spoke to Emmett. “You do anything squirrelly, she’ll pay for it.”

Emmett’s eyes narrowed and the rest of his face hardened. “You don’t have to threaten her. I’ll do what I can for your man. I said you didn’t need to bring her.”

“I believe in insurance,” Clyde said.