outlawdoctor2

Horrified by what she'd done, Hannah dropped the gun from her shaking hands. It hit the dirt with a loud thud, which made her jump. She was vaguely aware that the man called Charlie had drawn a gun and was pointing it at her, and that his boss was telling him not to harm her. The sounds seemed miles away, though.

Hannah had never hurt or injured anything in her life. She was transfixed at the sight of the blood on the hand of the man kneeling in the dirt. Luckily, her training took over at that point. She was on her knees beside him, ignoring all the other men and their guns. Do no harm. Do no harm. The words kept resounding loudly in her mind.

In front of the man, she pushed at the black coat. "We need to get this off him! Quick!"

Her eyes flickered to Charlie. "Get me my bag! Now! Don't argue!" She was pulling the man's shirt loose from his fancy, embroidered, black pants. Her face had gone even whiter than it had been before, and her lips still pressed tightly together, but her hands were steady as she worked.

"It ain't nothin'," Ben said, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. He was trying to help shrug out of his coat, but the movement twisted his side and he sat over on his right hip in the dirt.

Charlie had fetched her medical bag, practically dumping it in her lap. "You damn well better be a doc, woman!" he growled. His hand went to his holster and he glared at her, the desire to kill her hot in his eyes.

"Leave...leave her be," Ben whispered. "You hear me, Charlie? Leave her be."

"I hear you, Boss," Charlie replied, but the look in his eyes didn't change. Anything happen to Ben and the woman was dead.

The black velvet coat at last out of the way, Hannah could finally get a slightly better view of the damage she'd done. Pushing the vest up, she was able to clearly see the amount of blood spreading over the man's shirt. Against the silver-blue of the fabric, the patch had a dark, blackish color in the center, lighter and more red at the edges. She could see, though, that there wasn't nearly as much of it as there had been on the shirt of the man with the chest wound. The bullet had hit nothing major.

Thank God! Hannah breathed the words silently to herself. Her black leather medical bag hit the dirt near her knees, but she didn't bother to look up.

The man said it was nothing but, as she glanced up, Hannah could see the twisted look of pain cross his face and the sweat on his brow. His brilliant blue-green eyes bore into her own and held them for a moment, asking something of her which she wasn't quite sure how to answer.

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly to him so that the others couldn't hear, not sure why she was apologizing to a man who'd just been responsible for holding up the stage and killing half-a-dozen men.

"First time I ever been apologized to by someone who shot me," Ben said, his voice a whisper not because of not trying to be heard, but because it was about all he could manage and keep his jaw clamped. His side hurt like hell. The bullet had hit a low rib and then skittered along it for several inches and he felt like he was in the act of being branded, only the iron was just held there in place. There were black spots at the edges of his vision, but still he kept his eyes locked on hers. He wasn't sure if the pain were affecting his mental abilities or not, but something in him was fascinated in a strange sort of way that this woman who'd shot him was now trying to fix him. It wasn't the way of things. Not out here it wasn't. Then her fingers began to fumble with the buttons of his shirt and he looked down. Her hands were red with blood again, his this time. He found that rather ironic.

He watched every movement of her fingers as she slid a button through the buttonhole, then went on to the next. He had no idea how many women had done that, just that none of them had ever done it with bloody fingers. When she spread the front of his shirt apart, he saw her stare a moment at his white long johns. "You got a knife in that bag, just cut 'em." Inhaling a deep breath he said as loudly as he could, "Charlie, post some lookouts. We gonna be here a bit longer than planned." He closed his eyes briefly. "I think I need to lie back a spell."

"First time I've ever shot anyone," Hannah said, in reply to his initial statement. "And the last." That assertion was made with absolute certainty. Never did she want to be responsible for someone being injured and in pain again.

As she worked at undoing the buttons on his shirt, her mind went briefly over the last two months. It seemed unbelievable that, just eight weeks ago, she'd been graduating from medical school in New York, and now she was here, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, attempting to treat a man that she'd just shot herself ! For a moment, she considered the letter she'd write to her father, telling him about this.

Hannah continued to ignore the other men, her full attention on what she was doing, and the man who was accepting her ministrations, despite his questioning of her actually being a doctor only a few minutes before. When he closed his eyes and made to lie back, she held his shoulder firmly.

"Listen- I know you want to lie down, but this is no place to go removing a bullet, out in the open like this. The best thing will be for me to get the bleeding stopped and to find someplace inside that I can operate. Is there anywhere nearby we can go?"

Slowly Ben opened his eyes, breathing through his mouth, digesting the thought he was going to have to get on his horse and ride. "Give me a minute," he said and closed his lids again, going someplace deep inside where by sheer willpower he marshaled enough strength to sit erect and look at her fairly levelly.

Charlie came back, squatting beside him. "Think you can ride, Boss?"

"Seems there ain't no choice," Ben replied. "What about that there abandoned homestead 'bout three miles south? I think I can make it there."

Charlie frowned then glared at the woman. "You got some way to keep him from bleedin' on the way?" His eyes still carried her death firmly embedded in their depths.

The eyes of the man called Charlie sent a shiver through Hannah. They were as cold and lifeless as the bodies of the guards scattered about. Had it not been for the man he called 'Boss', she had no doubt that her fate would already have been the same as that of the guards.

Cutting the long underwear away from the wound, Hannah examined it quickly. She'd been correct in her assessment that nothing vital had been hit. The bleeding would not be too difficult to control. The bullet needed to be removed as soon as possible and the real danger lay in the wound becoming infected. The blowing dust and general unsterile conditions made that a possibility. She also knew that most of his pain was caused by the ribs which had been damaged by the bullet. That must be almost unbearable for him.

"I can get the bleeding under control in a few minutes," she said, informing the man she was treating more than answering the younger man. She looked over at Charlie. "Get me some bandages from my bag. I don't need to be touching everything in there with blood on my hands."

When he'd given them to her, she went to work silently. "I can control the bleeding." She addressed the man in black as, despite his injury, he still seemed to be the man in charge. "And I can give you some laudanum to dull the pain."

"Just the bleedin'," Ben said. "No laudanum." He wasn't being stalwart. He just didn't want to relinquish the control the medicine would take from him, especially not when they were still right by the robbed coach. "And hurry," he added, knowing they needed to be on their way. The homestead was tucked away behind a series of sharp ridges and had been abandoned for many years, its inhabitants killed by Apaches long ago. Soon's she got the damn bullet out of him, they could ride further south, cross the border.

"Unnh!" he groaned as the woman probed his wound, then ground his teeth together. He wasn't going to be carrying on in front of some female.

After examining the hole made by the still-embedded bullet as closely as she was able, Hannah put pressure on it for several minutes. The man leaned on her to steady himself as she applied the pressure. During her medical training, she had treated quite a few men with bullet wounds, knife wounds, and other such serious injuries, as well as numerous men with various illnesses. A doctor's work required a degree of closeness and intimacy, but she had always maintained her professional distance, her objectivity.

For some reason, though, she found that attitude difficult to uphold with this particular man. She found herself drawn to his eyes. At times, the look in them was cold and detached, yet at other times, there was a warmth there. Not like the younger man, Charlie, who seemed to possess no warmth at all. His attitude toward death was curious as well. The lives of men apparently were of no consequence to him, yet he had been angry over the killing of a horse and he had allowed no one to harm her.

At another groan of pain from him, Hannah met his eyes once again. "Are you sure you don't want laudanum? I know you have to be in a lot of pain, and riding will make it worse."

"No laudanum." Ben shook his head. "Can't...." His breath hissed in sharply over his teeth as she pressed harder on his wound.

Hannah winced in sympathy. "Sorry." She caught herself apologizing to him for the second time within a few minutes.

Why should she apologize to a man who was a robber and a murderer? No doubt, the man deserved to be shot! He was definitely no gentleman--any more than the rest of his gang. Him being their leader, he was probably even worse! She shook her head.

It must be everything she'd gone through today. All of this had her confused. The long, exhausting trip, the robbery, all the dead men. The fact that she, herself, had shot someone.

The bleeding had slowed and, as she bandaged the wound and his ribs as tightly as she possibly could, Hannah softly asked him the same question he'd asked her earlier about the coach, "Why?"

His chin had been down as he watched her wrap bandages around his torso, but at her question he lifted his head, meeting her eyes. Possibly because he felt weak from loss of blood, somewhat dizzy and nauseated, for a moment his guard was down and he let himself show in their green depths. Intellect, loss, boredom, pain...all were briefly there, then he blinked his shield into place and replied, "Easy money," but looked quickly away at the top of a ridge, his lips tight.

He gave her a verbal answer, but the story she got a glimpse of in his blue-green eyes was the real one. It had been as brief an answer as the two words he'd spoken aloud, but Hannah discovered herself curious to know more of it. To find out the details that went along with the bigger picture.

Again, she shook her head at herself. She wouldn't be around him long enough for that. She'd treat his wound and, hopefully, they'd let her go. Or they'd kill her. Either way, she wouldn't have long enough to carry on any detailed conversations with him.

And why should I want to? She asked herself the question indignantly. The man was an outlaw! He probably didn't have too much longer to live himself. He'd either not be so lucky the next time a bullet found him or he'd be caught and hanged.

Aloud, she said to him and the rest of the gang, "I think we can be on our way now."

"Charlie," Ben called, and the younger man came over, helping him to his feet. He swayed, shook his head to clear it, then grabbed onto the pommel of the black's saddle. One of the other men had brought the horse close for him. Just lifting his left leg to the stirrup caused sharp pains to shoot through his side, but he sank his teeth in his lip and heaved himself up, one brief groan escaping despite his efforts.

Charlie stood close beside him, looking worriedly up, his hand steadying Ben's hip. "You ok, Boss?"

"I'm fine, Charlie. Just fine." His face was quite white, though, and he let out a long, sighing breath. "Charlie, you take the doc with you." He would have ridden with her himself, but there was no way he could have anybody's arms around his middle right now.

Charlie stepped away from the black, eyeing the woman as though she were a Gila monster. "Pack up," he said roughly , indicating her medical supplies, then went to get his horse.

She didn't like the thought of riding with the younger man, but there was nothing for it. Picking up the canteen she had discarded earlier, Hannah again washed her hands. When she'd finished repacking her medical bag, she returned to the door of the stage.

"There's another bag in here that I need." She climbed back into the coach and began rummaging through the contents.

"You ain't gonna need no other bag!" Charlie snapped, smacking his hand hard into the side of the stage.

"Let her, Charlie," Ben said, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his right hand. "James, you take her bag for her."

"Boss!" Charlie protested. "This is a damn waste of time 'n effort!"

"Let her take what she wants," Ben repeated.

Charlie swung himself easily up into his saddle then sat, his hands on his hips, waiting for the woman to get done with what she was doing. "Hurry it up!"

Even though it wasn't yet noon, this day had been too long and too stressful. Despite her fear of the man named Charlie, Hannah's temper got the better of her again. "Charlie? Is that your name?"

At his nod, she fixed her eyes firmly on him and declared, "Well, Charlie- unless there's something you haven't told me and you know how to operate on your boss there by yourself-" Pausing a moment as she found the bag she was looking for, she turned to face him again and continued. "-then you really don't have any idea WHAT I need, do you?! It just so happens that I'm carrying more medicines and supplies in this bag! So, why don't you let ME decide what I need!"

William, an older, slim man with a very weathered face, gave her a boost up behind Charlie, winked at him, then handed her larger bag to James as Ben had directed.

Just before William mounted, Ben turned his horse. "Unharness them there five horses," he said, indicating the team still hitched to the big coach. "Can't go off 'n leave them like that in case it takes a while for the railroad to find out what happened to their stage." He swayed, steadied himself, adjusted his hat, and headed toward a rocky path that led higher up and away from the stagecoach route.

Hannah was loathe to put her arms around the man called Charlie, so she settled for holding onto both sides of his leather jacket, hoping that would be enough. At his boss' order, the man who'd helped her up onto the horse began to release the team in front of the stage from their harness.

Again she looked over at the man she'd shot, saw him sway in his saddle, then right himself quickly before he started off. In spite of his own pain, he had thought of the horses and their welfare. Just what kind of man was this? Apparently, there was more to him than met the eye. Hannah's eyes followed the broad, retreating back on the black horse, her curiosity burning again.

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