The bullet hit the wall behind me right after I heard the shot. Lige Donor then plunged out the door and was out of sight. I had a notion to return his fire, but with no clear shot I held up keeping my gun on his brother Clem instead. I saw Clem looking down at Fred Dover who was lying on the floor, curled up seemingly in severe pain. I motioned with my gun for Clem to raise his hands.
“Check on Dover, Doc,” I uttered, getting out of my seat and walking toward Clem. “Just reach over with your left hand and take your gun by the barrel,” I said, watching him follow my commands. “Now, gently lay it on the table, and come toward me. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.” When he had done so I pulled the handcuffs that I kept attached to my belt and cuffed him.
Grabbing him by the shoulders, I jerked him around. He didn’t seem to pay any attention to me tussling him around, but he looked at his friend. “Is he goin’ to be alright?” he asked very concerned.
“Miles, come here and help Brother Chapman lift this man to a table where I can examine him better,” hollered Doc in an agitated manner. Molly rushed over to remove salt and pepper shakers from the table and swooped off the table cloth.
“Doc, if possible don’t let any blood get on the table,” she requested as she hurried.
The man groaned as we picked him up, with Doc instructing us to lay him on his back. He then began to poke and prod him. The man, Fred Dover, was conscious but because of the pain, kept his eyes tightly shut. The preacher and I watched Doc work on the man, and when he poked him in the lower stomach, the man let out a yelp that would make any Comanche proud.
“Mister, look at me,” ordered Doc to his patient. “I ain’t going to lie to you, but you’re in bad shape. I have to get you over to the office where I can operate on you, but even then, if that appendix has burst I don’t give you much hope.”
Sweat was pouring off the man’s face as if he had been working out in the hot sun. He gave a slight nod to what Doc said, then asked, “Do you have to move me? I don’t know if I can stand it.”
Doc scratched at his head, then brought his hand down rubbing his chin while looking around then to place his gaze on Molly. “Up to you Molly.”
“Which would be best, Doc?” she quickly replied.
He rubbed down his chin one more time. “Best would be over in my office. However, if his appendix has not already burst, moving him might cause it to happen.”
“Emelda, put up the closed sign!” ordered Molly. Emelda immediately went over to place the sign in the window.
Doc was looking around the room. “I need light and I need for him to be completely stretched out. Move him on the table over there where it’s the brightest and pull a table up where he can stretch out his legs. Emelda, get some water heated, I’ll go for my equipment. Dale, you best start praying for this lad now.”
In all of the commotion, I had never heard Rev. Chapman referred to by his first name. With Doc scurrying out the door heading for his office, the preacher and I lifted the table and placed it where Doc had suggested. We pulled another table close, but hesitated in trying to straighten the man’s legs out; it seemed to lessen the pain with him curled up.
Within a few minutes, Doc had returned with Edith along with him. He glanced at the location, then nodded, “Help me. Miles, you hold his shoulders, Brother Chapman, grab his leg and I’ll take this one. We need to lift him up slightly and make sure he is completely stretched out and on his back.”
We went to our positions. Doc looked down at the man, “Mister, we have to move you so grit your teeth, cause it has to be done.” The man did his best to keep from yelling out, and we were able to get him positioned where Doc wanted.
“Molly, I need a sharp knife to cut away his clothes. I don’t want to hurt him anymore by pulling them off,” Doc said, then looked down as if reconsidering. “Get the knife, we’ll try to take off his boots.”
With a grunt and groan from Dover the boots came off and Molly was back with the knife. Emelda was seated at a near table praying, and the preacher went to join her. “Doc, let me help!” hollered my handcuffed prisoner…