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“Why can’t Whit do it?”
“Because he’s conducting the ceremony.”
“Oh all right.”
Buoyed by his grandfather’s enthusiasm, Colt went to the barn and saddled his horse. His injured shoulder was still tight and sore but felt better than it had the day before. Thankful for that at least, he rode away.
His first stop was to check in on nine-year-old Silas Taylor. A week ago, the boy and his black-and-white bull terrier, Lucky, had a run-in with an old male cougar the locals had named One Eye because the cat only had one. Due to its advanced age and limited vision, the cougar probably saw the boy as an easy meal, but didn’t take into account the fearless Lucky coming to his master’s aid. The dog eventually ran the cat off, but not before he and the boy were slashed a few times by its claws. Ben and his friends were planning a hunt to put the big cat down before it attacked again.
“How’s he doing?” Colt asked the boy’s mother, Geneva, as she ushered him inside.
“The skin around the cuts is still a bit stiff and itches, he says, but the skin’s healing.”
“Mind if I take a look?”
“No, of course not.”
“How’s Lucky?”
“Eating all the rabbits my William can bring home as his reward. If it hadn’t been for that dog...” Her voice trailed off.
Colt agreed. Lucky saved Silas’s life.
The red-haired, nine-year-old Silas was lying in bed. When Colt entered, his small freckled face broke into a grin. “Hi, Dr. Lee.”
“Hi, Silas.” Lucky was lying on a large pillow inside of a wooden crate. “How are you and your brave dog?”
“We’re fine. Aren’t we, Lucky?”
The dog barked and Colt chuckled. “Is it okay if I check your cuts?”
“Sure.”
His mother, standing in the doorway, said, “There’s a basin of warm water there for you. I know you like to keep your hands clean.”
“Thank you.” Colt was a follower of British surgeon Dr. Joseph Lister who touted the benefits of cleanliness and the use of carbolic acid in stopping the spread of infections and disease. With his hands clean, Colt gently freed the bandages covering the three long gashes One Eye had given the boy on the left side of his rib cage. The wounds were still red and angry in appearance, but were no longer draining, which was a good sign. The stitches Colt used to close the deepest cut seemed to be doing well, too. “Are you eating okay?” Colt placed a hand on the boy’s brow to check for fever.
“Yes, sir.”
“Keeping your hands clean, and away from your cuts?”
“Yes, sir. They itch like the dickens though.”
Colt withdrew his stethoscope from his bag and checked his breathing. “Means they’re healing.” His breathing sounded fine. “I’m going to put some fresh bandages on them, and in another couple of days, we’ll see where we go from there.” Colt removed a roll of gauze and some cotton pads from his bag.
“Can you check Lucky, too?” Silas asked.
“Sure will. Let me get you fixed up first.”
As promised, once he was done with Silas, Colt checked on the terrier. Colt also acted as the local veterinarian because there wasn’t one in the immediate area. He checked the short line of stitches he’d placed in the dog’s belly. The terrier had lived up to his name because he could’ve been disemboweled.
Pleased that Silas and Lucky were mending well, he offered them his good-byes and Mrs. Taylor walked him to the front door. “So sorry I’m going to miss the wedding,” she said. “I hear your bride’s a beauty, and quite the firecracker. How’s your shoulder?”
Colt wondered if there was anyone in the Territory who didn’t know his business. “My shoulder’s fine, thank you for asking.”
“My William and I are looking forward to meeting her.”
Colt responded with what he hoped passed for a genuine smile and rode off to see his next patient.
