Free Beloved Physician by Al Lacy

sure.”
    With that, Dr. Dane pivoted and headed in the direction of his office.
    The crowd watched the gunman aim the gun at Dr. Dane’s back as he hissed, “Then you die, too!”
    A shot rang out, and the gunman went down like a rotted tree in a high wind.
    Every eye in the crowd turned to the man with the badge on his chest in the middle of the street.
    When Dr. Dane heard the shot, he expected to feel the bullet plow into his back. With the bleeding mayor cradled in his arms, he paused, looked back, and saw Central City’s young town marshal, Jake Merrell, standing over the fallen gunman, but looking his way.
    “Go on, Doc,” Merrell said solemnly. “Take care of Mike. This mans dead.”
    Dane nodded, then set his gaze on a man in the crowd named Alf Roberts. “Alf, would you do me a favor?”
    “Sure, Doc. Name it.”
    “I need you to bring my horse and buggy to the office for me. They’re up there at the Western Union office.”
    “Will do,” said Alf, and headed that direction.
    While the doctor was hurrying down the street with Mike Anderson in his arms, people who had heard the shot looked on with bulging eyes.
    A man called out, “What happened, Dr. Logan?”
    Dr. Dane did not break his stride. “A man shot Mayor Anderson!”
    As Dr. Dane neared his office, he saw more people on the street watching him. He was answering another man who had asked what had happened when he caught a glimpse of Tharyn standing on the boardwalk. When she saw him carrying the mayor and heard his reply to the man, she opened the office door and held it for him.
    Seeing the shocked look on Tharyn’s face, Dr. Dane said, “He’s gut shot. I’ve got to get the slug out quickly or he’ll die.”
    Tharyn fixed her gaze on the mayor’s twisted, pallid face as her husband carried him past her, then followed him into the examining and surgical room.
    As the doctor laid Mike on the nearest table, he said, “He’s still slightly conscious, honey. He’ll need some chloroform.”
    When Dr. Dane finished the surgery on the unconscious Mike Anderson almost two hours later, he turned to Tharyn and sighed. “He’s going to make it, sweetheart. He’s going to make it!”
    “Oh, praise the Lord!” she said.
    Three times during the surgery, Tharyn had left her husband’s side long enough to go into the office to explain to patients with appointments, and those who had come in without appointments, what was happening. The first time she had gone out, Betty Anderson was there, having been notified of the shooting by some friends who had witnessed it. Upon her return to the operating table, Tharyn had told her husband of Betty’s presence in the office.
    Dane was putting the finishing touches on Mike’s bandage. Tharyn looked up at him with relief showing in her eyes. “I’ll stay with Mike, honey, while you go out and tell Betty he’s going to live. When I was out there in the office the last time, she was near hysteria. I tried to calm her, but she was still on the edge. Hearing the good news from you will carry more weight.”
    As she spoke, Tharyn reached down and took hold of Mike’s wrist, pressed experienced fingers down to check his pulse, and looked at the watch that was pinned to her white apron. After several seconds had passed, she said, “His pulse is a little weak and thready, but that’s to be expected after all the blood loss.”
    Concentrating on his bandage work, Dane nodded in agreement.
    Tharyn put his wrist back at his side. “I’ll keep a watchful eyeon him, and while you’re out there relieving Betty’s mind, I’ll clean all of this up quickly so you can bring her in to see him. He’s still under the chloroform, but I know it’ll make her feel better just to see and touch him.”
    Dane made the final knot in the bandage and set loving eyes on her. “Okay. I’ll wash the blood off my hands before I go out.”
    As he spoke, he walked to a nearby table where a ewer of warm water and a bowl waited