Damascus Journey by Al Lacy

Author:Al Lacy [Lacy, Al]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-78051-5
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2011-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

At the clinic, Dr. Patrick O’Brien was examining elderly Clarence Prewitt on one table while his father was working on a feverish ten-month-old baby boy on the other.

While Patrick was probing carefully about Clarence’s ribs, Clarence said, “Those gunshots definitely came from the south side of town. I can’t imagine—oh!”

“Sorry,” said the young doctor. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s all right, Doctor. You can’t know how bad I banged up those ribs without putting some pressure on them.”

Looking over at Clarence, the older Dr. O’Brien said, “What were you going to say?”

“Hmm?”

“You were about to say there was something you couldn’t imagine.”

“Oh. I can’t imagine it having been a shootout—you know—between a couple of gunfighters. That doesn’t happen back in the neighborhood somewhere. They always shoot it out right on Main Street so they can make a spectacle of themselves.”

“A bit early too,” said Doc, sponging the baby with cool water. “They don’t usually slap leather till the saloons and the business places have been open for at least an hour and there are plenty of potential spectators moving about on the boardwalks. And, as you said, they do it on Main Street to get all the attention they can so the guy who walks away can be noticed by as many people as possible.”

Clarence winced as Patrick touched the sorest spot once more, then said, “As far as I know, there aren’t any neighbors in this town feuding with each other, so I don’t think it could have been something like that.”

“I’d say it might have been somebody shooting a raccoon who got into their trash bin,” said Patrick, “but the sequence of the shots would rule that out. If whoever was shooting at the varmint had missed with the first shot, the second would have come immediately. And if there had to be a third, it would have come quickly too.”

“Right,” said Doc, spooning a dark liquid into the baby’s mouth, accompanied by sounds of extreme protest. “The sequence was odd. One shot, then several minutes passing before the second shot, then the third shot in a minute or so. I can’t imagine what it was.”

“Well,” said Patrick, “if somebody was hit, we’ll soon know it.”

“So what’s the verdict, Doctor?” said Clarence as Patrick stopped probing.

“Well, Mr. Prewitt, you’re going to be fine. Those ribs are bruised, but none are broken.”

Clarence smiled. “I don’t understand how you can know whether they’re broken or just bruised.”

Patrick chuckled. “If they were broken, I would know because when I touched them, you’d have been screaming your head off.”

Patrick helped Clarence sit up, then aided him in buttoning up his long johns.

“Well, Jesse Ferguson Jr.,” said Doc to the baby, “you’re going to be fine, too. Let’s get you dressed, and your mother can take you home.”

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