Hell on the Prairie (9 page)

Logan sipped his whiskey. “No harm at all
Virgil. I was just wondering. It seems to me that gamblers are a
pretty mixed bunch. You have professionals who make a good living
out of it, a lot who dabble but know when they have had enough, and
then you have the ones who will bet on anything at all, be willing
to lose their last cent on the turn of a card or the roll of the
dice.”

“
The last type are the ones I pray
for,” laughed Virgil.

Logan scanned the players at the various
tables. “Have you had a smooth-looking gambling man in here this
week? Smart clothes, goatee beard and a wooden leg?”

The saloon owner stroked his chin,
pensively. “As a matter of fact we have. Poker player and pretty
darned good. He was a professional, no mistakes. And according to
Tom and some of the other boys, he’s been around the other places.
As if he was working out which would be the best to settle down at.
Trouble is, all of the places have their own regular gamblers. They
can be a territorial bunch, and things could get tough for a peg
legged tinhorn.” He finished his own drink and set his glass down
on the counter. “Why, do you know him?”

Logan smiled. “Only professionally.” He
drained his drink before setting the glass down beside Virgil’s. “I
was expecting him to call to see me for a supply of medicine, but
he never showed up. I wondered if he had left town.”

“
Could well have done. It’s been a
couple of days since he showed up here,” Virgil replied, raising
his hand to catch Bob Sutton’s attention. “Have another
drink.”

“
No, I need to hit the sack. I never
know when I’ll be called out at the moment.”

He left as the Du Pree Players returned to
the stage with a rousing fanfare.

***

It was sometime after three o’clock in the
morning when Logan was woken from a light sleep. The rapping at the
door was rapid, but fairly faint, rousing Logan’s suspicion that it
was a child rather than a grown-up who was demanding his attention
in the night.

It was Tommy Brewster, and he looked like a
frightened jackrabbit.

“
My ma and pa sent me, Dr. Munro. It’s
my baby brother. He’s sick and has that cough again. Can you come
quick?”

Logan was used to dressing and dashing out
in a hurry. “You go on home, Tommy. I’ll be following you in a few
moments.”

True to his word, two minutes later he was
hurrying along Washington Street towards the far end of town where
the Parker house looked out over Wolf Creek.

He knocked on the door and immediately let
himself in. In the dim light from the oil lamp he saw Rob Parker’s
big bulk sitting in a chair with his back to him.

Curiously, there was no telltale cough from
Kenny Parker.

He noticed that Rob Parker’s head was
slumped forward and he saw rope wound round him and the chair.

The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly
stood on end, as if some sixth sense was alerting him to
danger.

But it was too late. There was an explosive
pain at the back of his head and he felt himself pitching forward
into a deep pool of unconsciousness.

***

Someone was whistling. And alongside the
whistling there seemed to be a muffled moaning.

Logan struggled to force his eyes to open.
Then he was aware of a feeling of nausea, and of a throbbing
headache, worse than any he had ever experienced before in his
life.

His vision was blurred, but slowly he became
able to focus in the dim lamplight. Still the whistling went on, a
cheerful tune, as if someone was pleased about something.

Then he saw Mollie Parker and young Tommy
Brewster bound and gagged, propped up on the bed. Their eyes stared
at him in horror and he could see that they were both shaking with
fear. Baby Kenny seemed to be sleeping peacefully in his basket
beside Mollie.

“
What…what is…?” he mumbled. Then he
gasped as he saw Rob Parker’s large bulk lying on his back on the
old table. A stout rope was wound round and round him and the
table, securing him tightly. Logan could see the look of terror on
his face. A deep gash on the side of his head had bled and soaked a
linen rag that had been used to gag him.

The whistling stopped and was replaced by a
soft laugh.

Logan turned his head and saw Barclay
Patterson sitting just out of the circle of lamplight on the other
side of the bed. In his hand he had a gun trained on the doctor,
and in the other he held an unsheathed swordstick.

“
Why, Dr. Munro. We are so pleased
that you could join us,” he said, silkily. “Now we are all united
again.” He pointed the sword at the chair by the stove. “Please
take a seat and make yourself comfortable. I think it is time we
all had a chat, before we begin.”

Conscious of the gun that was unerringly
aimed at his chest, Logan rose and sat down on the chair.

“
Before we begin what?” he
asked.

“
Let’s call it the re-union. Rob
Parker here and me go back a long ways, don’t we, Rob?” He gave a
short laugh. “Or rather, don’t we –
Chris
.”

He glanced at Mollie Parker then shook his
head slowly. “I am sorry if the news that your husband isn’t who he
says he is comes as a surprise, but if it is a surprise, I warn you
there is worse to come. This is Chris Bodeen, the worst friend a
man could ever meet.”

Rob Parker shook his head vigorously and
made muffled protests.

“
What’s that, Chris? You disagree?
Well, we’ll hear what you say in a minute, right after I tell the
folks here all about you. But when I do untie that gag, be warned.
If you or Dr. Munro here make any attempt to call for help, I’ll
kill young Tommy and Mollie first.” He swished the sword through
the air. “I’ve become pretty handy with this here
weapon.”

“
Chris and I fought for the Union
during the war. Actually, ‘fought’ may not be quite right, because
we had a neat line in bounty jumping. Thanks to the Union we got
paid three hundred dollars to enlist, which we did, then took a
sort of holiday before we re-enlisted again someplace else. We did
that twelve or thirteen times each.”

He laid the sword down on the edge of the
bed for a moment, then drew out a small bottle of laudanum and took
a swig, all the time keeping the gun trained on Logan.

“
That’s better. It goes right to the
spot. Now where was I? Ah yes, our bounty jumping. We were friends,
shared everything, and even intended buying a ranch together when
it was all over. Until we had the misfortune to enlist and run into
Sergeant Oliver Brewster. He knew there was something odd going on
and kept a watchful eye on us, which we didn’t take too kindly
to.

“
One day he took us on a scouting
detail and told us that he knew what we were up to. We thought he
was going to turn us in, but instead he demanded half of our stash.
He had been listening to us in the barracks and threatened to turn
us in, which of course could have meant the rope or a firing squad.
Chris kept him talking long enough for me to shove a bayonet
between his ribs.”

He glanced at Mollie and Tommy, his eyes
cold and hard and his face beaming, as if relishing their reactions
of fear and horror.

“
There was nothing more to be done
except make another run for it and maybe enlist someplace else. I
started off, and then Chris here had an attack of conscience or
something. When I started off he shot me and then knocked me
out.”

He sighed and then fixed his stare on Logan.
“The next thing I remember was you! Standing over me with your
apron all bloody and a great long knife in your hand and a whole
bunch of saws and such-like on a table at your side. You mumbled
something about having to take my leg off to save my life. Then
some bastard put a cone over my face and I blotted out. Except I
felt that cold, cold steel as you cut, then that rasping as you
sawed, and then the smell, that goddamned awful smell of my own
flesh being burned.”

Logan strained to remember Barclay Patterson
in army uniform, but he couldn’t. There had been so many young
wounded men that he had to operate on in the field hospitals. Each
one of them had been a life or death operation.

“
I am sorry, but I do not remember,”
Logan began. “I…”

“
You were the one who is responsible
for this damned pain in my ghost leg! And you are going to pay for
it.”

Rob Parker had started to strain against his
bonds.

“
Ah, I said you could have your say,
didn’t I, Chris?” Patterson rose from his chair with practiced
ease. He crossed the room to the table, leaned the sword against it
and reached down for Logan’s medical bag. He opened it with one
hand, peered inside, and then drew out Logan’s Beaumont-Adams
revolver.

“
No sense in tempting you, doctor,” he
said. He stowed the weapon in a pocket of his coat, before reaching
into the bag again and drawing out a small wooden case. He opened
it with one hand and beamed as he removed a small scalpel from it.
He inserted the blade under Rob Parker’s gag and cut it
free.

“
Zeke, I swear I never meant any
harm,” Rob Parker gasped. “It wasn’t how you think. I saved your
life.”

“
Pah! Lies! Remember what I said about
trying to summon help. You have one minute to tell us your
side.”

Rob Parker looked beseechingly at Mollie and
Tommy Brewster, then turned back to look up at the man he called
Zeke.

“
It’s true what Zeke says, we were a
couple of bounty jumpers, but I wanted no part in the murder. I was
trying to talk Sergeant Brewster around when Chris…when you stabbed
him. Then I tried to stop you when you set off. As sure as hell we
would have been hanged as murderers. But you wouldn’t listen. I
reckoned the only way was to wound you, take you back to the line
and say we’d been ambushed and the sergeant killed. That’s why I
shot you in the leg then knocked you out. There was no other way I
could carry you.

“
I got you back and then a couple of
guys from the ambulance corps took you by stretcher you to the
hospital. The trouble was the
Minié ball was designed
to cause maximum damage. I…I guess it did it to your
leg.”

The man called Zeke tapped the end of his
sword against his chest. “I carry the damned thing in a pouch that
I keep hung round my neck.” He glowered at Logan. “This damned
surgeon put it in my hand as some sort of souvenir.”

Logan sighed. “Those were difficult times,
Mr. Patterson. Hard decisions had to be made on the spur of the
moment. Having some tangible object like a bullet that maimed you
often seemed to help men. If they could accept that it hadn’t
killed them, but only wounded them, then they could use it as a
sort of talisman, a lucky charm.”

Barclay Patterson laughed. “So that is the
secret of my success at poker!” Then his face hardened. “I made an
oath when I eventually came back to something like normal
consciousness. They told me that I had raved for days on end and
almost died from some fever. I vowed that I would hunt down and
kill the butcher that did this to me as well as the bastard who
shot me.”

He laughed again. “Imagine my surprise when
I landed up in Wolf Creek and find the surgeon holed up as the town
doctor. I guess I fainted when I saw you, because I wanted to just
kill you right there. And then you went on about your oath and I
thought I would need to savor the moment before I kept the oath I
had made to kill you. Then Lady Luck must have smiled on me,
because the first saloon I walked into, who should be there serving
beer, but old Chris. Of course it’s been a few years, and with this
beard I guess I don’t look like the same man, so I was pleased that
you didn’t recognize me.”

He turned to the bartender. “And I see
you’ve set yourself up and have a family and all. You married
Sergeant Brewster’s widow and had a sprog of your own, too. I
reckon that must have been guilt that made you seek her out.”

“
Please, let them go, Zeke. Kill me if
you want to, but just let them go.”

“
If you and the good doctor do as I
say then maybe I’ll let them live.”

He picked up a bottle of whiskey from the
floor and pulled out the cork. “You’re going to have a good long
drink, Chris. You’re going to need it.”

He shoved the bottle to Rob Parker’s lips
and forced him to drink.

“
All of it! You’re going to need it
all.”

***

“
I won’t do it!” Logan said a few
minutes later, when Barclay Paterson’s intention became clear. He
looked down at the contents of his medical bag that Patterson had
placed at the side of the table next to the nearly comatose Rob
Parker. “It is against the Hippocratic Oath. I cannot and will not
do anything to willfully harm a patient.”

Patterson shrugged. “It is the only way that
anyone is going to walk out of here alive. It is nothing to me. I
can kill you all and be off on that horse that I have ready behind
the house – or you can save everyone. All you have to do is
amputate his right arm. And since I am such a fair man, you chopped
my leg off below the knee, so I’ll allow you to take his arm off
below his elbow.”

“
I can’t. It’s…it’s
inhuman!”

“
He’ll barely feel a thing. Now get
out those instruments and explain to me exactly how you carry out
this operation. I’m curious to know what you do and just how you
deal with the two bones in the forearm.”

Logan bit his lip. There seemed to be no
other way to have any chance of stopping the carnage that would
take place otherwise. He was already deeply concerned about the
effect all of this horror would have on the young Tommy
Brewster.