Dead Trouble Read Free Page A

It’ll be some time yet before you can speak or do anything much except liethere and moan and groan.’ He smiled, the yellowed moustache masking much of the smile. ‘My name’s Doctor Farraday. They brought you in from Red Flats. Someone shot you in the back and you’ve taken a bullet in your right arm which has made quite a mess of all the things that go to work it smoothly. I’ve done what I can and you’re too weak to be moved anyplace that can do better, so I’m afraid you’re between that legendary rock and a hard place. Are you understanding any of this?’
    The eyes fluttered partly open again. There was a faint gargling sound and then the slightest movement of the head: a nod.
    ‘You are a very tough man, friend,’ Farraday said with undisguised admiration in his voice. ‘How you survived the ride from Red Flats hanging over a horse, I’ll never know. But I have to tell you, Deke, that’s it’s going to be a long, long time before you get on a horse in any manner. Your left lung has been nicked, splinters of bone have been driven into your muscles. It’s going to hurt like red-hot hell once you try to move things around. But that won’t be yet awhile. Not trying to depress you. I just believe that patients should know their condition and what may or may not happen to them.’
    Deke Cutler continued to look up through slitted eyelids. His left arm was strapped across his chest. His right was heavily bandaged from wrist to bicep. He managed to lift one finger of his right hand, the index one, and he scratched at the sheet several times.
    Farraday frowned.
    ‘You want something?’ A slight sideways movement of the head. Scratch, scratch, scratch! ‘Er … you want to know something? Want me to tell you …’
    A nod.
    ‘I – see. Now what do you wish to know? Of course! How long before you are better? Am I right?’
    Another slight nod and an obvious straining to open the eye further, a quickening of the breathing. Farraday reached down and gently squeezed his right hand.
    ‘I can’t tell, Deke. By rights you should be dead. Whatever you did before – cowhand, stage driver, or whatever – well, I doubt you’ll be fit for even light work under six months.’
    Deke Cutler’s big body went rigid under the sheet covering him. There was a deep frown, the head moved back and forth. Farraday made gentling sounds, leaning over him, drawing the sheet up to his chin.
    ‘Don’t you worry about it – I’ll pull you through, with your help. Just accept that it may – will – be quite a long time and that you might have to think about some new kind of work. It will be easier in the long run if you do that.’
    Deke Cutler’s mind was still too fuzzy and dizzy from the chloroform and he couldn’t have put the words together if he wanted to.
    But something deep down told him clearly that he would pull through and he would go back to Rangering – even if it killed him!
    Even though still only semi-conscious, he felt like laughing at this last. Even if it killed him!
    Christ! His life was already hanging by a thread.
     
    Mrs Farraday, a plumpish woman with silver streaks in her hair and a smiling face, opened the door to the big,dusty man who wore the circled-star Texas Ranger badge on his vest.
    Her smile warmed.
    ‘Well, you look as if a cup of coffee and some of my biscuits wouldn’t go amiss. Come you in.’
    The big man smiled, hat in hand now, sweat-tousled black hair pasted to his high forehead. He murmured, ‘Thank you, ma’am’ as he shuffled into the room. She led him through to the kitchen and proceeded to get him some vittles. He apologized for his appearance.
    ‘Ridden out from San Angelo, ma’am. My, that coffee sure smells good. Ma’am, I b’lieve your husband has a patient here named Deke Cutler? I’m Ranger Dal Beattie, by the way.’
    ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure. Yes, we have Mr Cutler here.’ Her smile had faded now. ‘Very poorly, I’m afraid. Fever has him in