One More Sunrise (33 page)

The elderly female passenger was screaming, and the two male passengers stood frozen in shock. People on the street were looking on wide-eyed as Dr. Dane Logan dashed up to the scene. The Fargo agent came charging out the door of the office.

Dr. Dane knelt beside the wounded men. His eyes met with those of Doke Veatch, who was searching the deputy’s pockets.

“Hello, Doctor,” said Doke. “I’m trying to find the key to the handcuffs so we can get these two men apart.”

“Thanks, Doke,” said Dane. He quickly examined both men, then opened his medical bag and went to work on Haymes.

Doke produced the key and hastily unlocked the handcuffs, removing them from the wrists of both lawman and prisoner.

The sheriff was summoned by someone on the street and soon arrived, along with two of his deputies—one of them being Doug Pritchard.

Dr. Dane was working furiously on the wounded federal deputy.

People in the crowd recognized the wounded outlaw from pictures they had seen in the newspapers, at the post office, and at the
sheriff’s office. They were talking about him, agreeing that he was part of the Tag Moran gang. One man even called his name.

When Dr. Dane heard it, he then recalled it too.

A reporter from the
Fort Collins Gazette
was now on the scene, making notes.

The Fargo agent ushered the other passengers inside the office, apologizing for the incident. He asked them to sit down, telling them it would be a while before the stage could leave, then hurried back to the scene.

Noting that both wounded men were conscious, Sheriff James Hoffman bent down over the doctor. “Do you need help getting these men to the hospital?”

“I will a little later, Sheriff,” said Dr. Dane, “but I have to do what I can first. Deputy Haymes has a big hole in his side where the bullet ripped through him, and I must stop the flow of blood before he bleeds to death.”

Haymes looked up at the doctor with hazy eyes and whispered, “Thank you.”

Buck Cummons and Doke Veatch were standing close, with the Fargo agent between them, watching the doctor work.

Doke was noting the blood bubbling from Gib’s chest just as Gib looked up at Dr. Logan and wheezed weakly, “Y-you’re … tending … to him first … because he’s … the lawman, aren’t you?”

Doke Veatch swung his gaze to the doctor’s face, his mind flashing back to the day when Darryl Moran died while Dr. Dane Logan was tending to him in Cheyenne. He thought of Tag’s words that day in Wheatland: “
Maybe that doc let Darryl die because he was an outlaw
.”

The shotgunner gritted his teeth and thought,
Tag, I told you that Dr. Logan didn’t let Darryl die because he was an outlaw … but now, I’m wondering if you were right
.

Doke felt anger well up within him as Logan looked at Tully,
but did not reply to his question.

D
ane Logan feverishly worked at getting Clint Haymes’s bleeding stopped while the Fargo men, the sheriff and deputies, the reporter, and the crowd looked on.

Doke felt his rage toward the doctor growing. Gib Tully was bleeding too—from right around his heart. His shirt was soaked with blood.

Suddenly Gib stiffened, let out a low moan, and went limp, his eyes staring vacantly into space. Dr. Logan glanced at Gib, but quickly put his attention back on the bleeding wound on the deputy’s left side.

Doke felt his own blood heat up. He took hold of Gib’s wrist and felt for a pulse.

There was none.

Doke raked Dane Logan with a cold glance and said loud enough for all to hear, “This man’s dead, Doctor!”

Dane looked at Doke, glanced at the vacant eyes of Gib Tully, nodded, and put his attention back on Haymes.

Outrage etched itself on Doke’s features, but he quickly forced it away. Inside, he was raw with violence, wanting to grab the doctor and rub his nose in the blood on Gib’s shirt. He sucked in his breath so hard it hollowed his cheeks.

Moments later, when Clint Haymes’s bleeding had been stopped and a bandage had been securely applied to the wound,
Dr. Dane looked up at the sheriff. “He can be transported to the hospital now, Sheriff.”

A smile broke over Hoffman’s rugged face. “Good, Doctor.” He turned to his deputies. “See if you can borrow one of these wagons parked here on the street. We need to get this man to the hospital right away.”

As the deputies hurried away, Dr. Dane said, “I want to go along with Deputy Haymes, Sheriff, so I can discuss the wound with whatever doctor is assigned to him. I was on my way to the depot when this incident happened, but I’ll catch the late afternoon train to Denver.”

At that instant, a man in the crowd said to Dane, “Doctor, I heard what that outlaw asked you—if you were tending to the deputy first because he was a lawman.”

Dane nodded. “Yes?”

“Well, is it true? Did you work on the deputy first because he was the good guy?”

Clint Haymes ran his dull gaze to the doctor, wondering what answer he would give.

Doke’s attention was riveted on the doctor’s face.

Dane eyed the man steadily. “No, I did not. Upon examining both men, I saw that Tully’s wound was lethal. The slug had definitely punctured his heart. He was not going to make it. So I concentrated my efforts on saving the deputy’s life.”

“Oh yeah?” pressed the man, his features stiff. “Then why didn’t you answer the question when Tully asked it?”

Still meeting the man’s hard gaze, Dane said, “I didn’t answer Tully’s question, sir, because I would have had to tell him he was going to die within a few minutes. If you were in my place, would you have told him that?”

The man bit his lips and shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t. I’m sorry, Doctor.” With that, he turned and walked away.

Doke Veatch clenched his jaw.
I don’t believe you, Logan
, he
thought.
You let Gib die because he was an outlaw, just like you let Darryl die that day at your office
. The anger in him grew hotter.
I owe it to Tag to see that he knows the truth about it. Tag and Gib were very close. And besides that, Kathryn needs to know that her husband is dead
.

The borrowed wagon was drawn up close to the spot where Deputy U.S. Marshal Clint Haymes and the lifeless body of Gib Tully lay next to the stagecoach. Haymes was picked up by the deputies and placed in the wagon bed. Dr. Dane Logan grasped his medical bag and hopped in beside Haymes. The owner of the wagon waited for the deputies to climb up on the seat beside him, then snapped the reins and put the team to a gallop in the direction of Larimer County Hospital.

Moments later, the passengers were boarding the stage, with the Fargo agent apologizing to them for the delay in their departure.

Doke Veatch had one desire at the moment: to get to Tag Moran and Gib Tully’s widow and let them know what had happened to Gib. He was aware that there was a retired older man named Clem Dobbins in town, who used to be a shotgunner with Wells Fargo. Clem still filled in now and then when needed.

Putting a sick look on his face and placing a hand over his stomach, Doke said to the driver, “Buck, seeing all that blood on Tully’s shirt has upset my stomach. I really don’t feel good. Could you get Clem Dobbins to take my place on this run?”

Buck nodded. “Sure, Doke. You’d better go on home.”

“I’ll go get Clem,” said the agent, and hurried down the street.

“Thanks, Buck,” said Doke, and walked away as if he were very sick to his stomach.

As soon as Doke got to his boardinghouse a few blocks from the Wells Fargo office, he saddled his horse and rode into the mountains.

The sun was lowering in the west as the Moran gang sat on the porch of the old cabin. A soft breeze brought the fragrance of pine across the porch.

“Well, boys,” said Tag, “I’m glad we were able to repair the wagon. Saves us having to steal one.” He glanced down the mountain to the east. “I’m really concerned about Gib. He should have been back by this time yesterday. I know we all agreed that he must have run into trouble, and had to hole up somewhere in these mountains for the night. But this has gone on too long.”

Bart said, “Maybe we should take a ride toward town and see if we can find him. We can’t go
into
town, but could be he’s had a problem between there and here.”

Tag rose from his chair. “I agree, Bart. Let’s all take a ride. I’ll go in and tell the gals.”

While the other four waited on the porch, Tag opened the door and said to Lucinda and Kathryn, “We’re gonna take a ride and see if we can find Gib.”

Kathryn left her chair and headed toward him. She was wringing her hands, and worry was etched on her face. “We were just talking about Gib, Tag. I knew it wasn’t safe for him to show his face in town. I should have talked him out of going!”

By this time, Lucinda was beside her.

Tag shook his head. “Kathryn, I’m sure he’s all right. Gib’s a resourceful guy. He’s got to be getting close to home by now. The boys and I just decided to ride out and meet him. You and Lucinda go ahead and start supper. We’ll be back with Gib before you know it.”

“Hey, Tag!” came Bart’s voice from the porch. “Gib’s here now!”

Kathryn let out a sigh.

Tag hurried out the door with the women on his heels.

A lone rider was making his way toward the cabin in the deep shadows of the forest.

Tony Chacone squinted at horse and rider. “Gib must have gotten another horse. That ain’t his gray.”

“Right,” said Bart, his gaze fixed on them. “But that ain’t Gib.”

Kathryn’s eyes widened and her hand went to her mouth, a sting of fear piercing her heart.

“Who can that be?” Tag said in a low voice, his brow furrowing.

“It’s Doke Veatch!” exclaimed Bart.

Doke put his horse to a trot, and as he drew up seconds later, all could see the dismal look on his face.

While he was dismounting, Tag said, “What’s wrong, Doke?”

Doke sighed as he started up the steps. “I’ve got bad news.” His eyes went to Kathryn. “Gib’s dead.”

Kathryn’s knees buckled, and Lucinda caught her before she fell. Kathryn’s lips were moving, but she couldn’t get any words to come out.

“Let’s take her inside,” said Doke. “I’ll tell you all about it.”

Lucinda kept a tight hold on Kathryn as they moved into the parlor and helped her sit down on the sofa. She then sat down beside her and held both of her hands.

The men stood in a tight cluster close to the sofa as Doke told the story of Gib’s arrest by Deputy Sheriff Doug Pritchard in Fort Collins yesterday, and of his attempt to escape this morning when he was about to be taken by stagecoach to Rawlins by Deputy U.S. Marshal Clint Haymes. He went on to give the details of how Gib tried to escape by grabbing Buck Cummons’s gun, and how Gib shot Haymes in his side, but got shot in the chest by Haymes.

At this point, Kathryn wailed in anguish, tears flowing. She set her wild eyes on Tag and screamed, “I tried to get you to stop the robbing so we could all go to California with less money than you had planned! I told you something like this would happen! But you wouldn’t listen to me! Now my Gib is dead!”

Tag bristled and met her teary glance with one as cold and hard as agate. “Shut up, Kathryn! Don’t be giving me that ‘I told you so’ stuff!”

Kathryn drew in a ragged breath. “Well, I
did
tell you so! I begged you to—”

“I told you to shut up!”

Lucinda caressed Kathryn’s tear-soaked face. “Honey, calm down now. You and Tag yelling at each other isn’t going to make things any better.”

Kathryn looked at Lucinda and buried her face against her shoulder, sniffling.

“Something else,” said Doke. “Tag, you remember the doctor I took Darryl to in Cheyenne.”

Tag’s features hardened. “Yeah. Dane Logan. What about him?”

“Well, he happened to be in Fort Collins, walking right by the Fargo office when Gib and the deputy shot each other. It was him who dashed to them when they both went down.”

A look of virulence leaped into Tag’s eyes. His voice came out like the flick of a whip. “He saved the deputy’s life, didn’t he?”

Doke nodded silently, then told Tag about Gib’s final words to Dr. Dane Logan, asking if he was tending to the deputy first because he was a lawman. “Tag, I think Logan purposely let Gib die when he might have been able to save him.”