Women of the Law.
Chapter 1
The sound made by an unconscious body collapsing to the ground - or against a door - is unmistakable. Galen Adams had had a busy 24 hours but despite his state of near exhaustion the noise awoke him from a deep sleep. Hurriedly he grabbed the pants he'd taken off just three hours ago and pulled them on over his nightshirt. With equal haste he lit the single oil lamp beside the bed and carried it with one hand leaving the other free to open the door to the outside. A limp body fell heavily across the threshold right in front of him. He managed to support the weight of his night-time visitor with his leg while placing the lamp on a nearby table. Bending down he got his arms under the lifeless form and dragged it far enough inside so he could step around it and glance up and down the street before closing the door again. There was no-one in sight - not even a wagon or a horse. He had no idea how the body got here - one thing was sure, it didn't walk.
Adams noted that the lifeless form was unusually light. Most cowboys or even drifters would weigh at least 20 pounds more. Having lit a second lamp with surprisingly steady fingers he got an even bigger surprise - his late night visitor was a woman. Squatting down beside the uninvited guest, he reached for her wrist and found a faint but steady pulse. Fortunately the physician was a lot stronger than he looked. Somehow he managed the almost impossible task of getting her onto his operating table then lit another lamp or two so he could get a better idea of what was going on.
He gently lifted her head and shoulders to place a pillow underneath, but withdrew his hand quickly when he felt the telltale sticky dampness of blood. He retrieved his spectacles from the desk where he'd left them the night before and brought one of the lamps closer to the table so he could get a better look.
He began by easing the jacket and shirt away from the woman's shoulder, and found an unmistakable entrance wound of a bullet. From the look of it he knew it had been fired from a rifle. There was no typical exit wound to be found so the projectile was still inside and would have to be removed as soon as possible.
His patient was still unresponsive so while his instruments were sitting on the stove in a pot of boiling water he examined her more fully. He needed to rule out other injuries and also see if he could find anything to indicate who she was. Fortunately there were no other wounds he could find but neither was there anything to give her a name. He noticed that she was a strong woman with good muscle development. Her hands showed evidence of hard work but at the same time her nails were neatly kempt. There was no sign of a wedding ring on her finger or any indication that she had ever worn one. From the weathered skin of her face and neck it looked as if she spent much of her life outdoors - so she didn't work in saloons or the like. In one of her skirt pockets he was surprised to find a metal badge, much like one he saw almost everyday on the shirt of his friend Matt Dillon. There was also approximately fifty dollars tucked in the pocket of the large flannel shirt she was wearing.
By now daylight was beginning to enter his office and he could hear the first of the town's merchants coming to prepare their businesses for the new day. From the small landing outside his door he saw Earnest Pickford the milk vendor, delivering orders. He called to him. Earnest looked up at the sound of his name.
"Oh it's you Doc. Do you need me to bring you some milk?"
"No, but I need you to come here a minute!"
When the tradesman got close enough Doc asked him to please tell Ma Smalley that he needed her help with a patient.
Earnest scurried off to fulfill his mission while Adams went back inside. He knew that the dependable guesthouse owner would appear shortly.
He'd hardly finished arranging his instruments ready for surgery when a somewhat disheveled Ma Smalley entered.
"Oh! forgive me Doctor - I came as quick as I could - I didn't even stop to fix my hair."
She removed her bonnet as she spoke and hung it neatly on the coat rack by the door. Doc couldn't help but notice how her snow white hair, usually arranged so neatly in a bun, had been pulled back from her face and hastily contained by a handful of pins.
"I'm not worried about that, Ma. I have to remove a bullet and need a little help."
Ma looked at the patient on the table. "Oh Saints preserve us Doctor! 'Tis a woman."
"Yes I'd noticed that too. It's why I need you to help me remove some of her clothes so I can get to the wound."
With Ma Smalley's willing assistance it didn't take long to remove the jacket and big plaid shirt the woman was wearing and also the more feminine camisole she wore underneath. They turned the unknown lady onto her side and Doc was able to proceed with his surgery. The bullet was quite deep and had entered just below the scapula, barely missing the lung. He quickly tied off one large vein that was still actively bleeding before carefully extracting the bullet. Then before closing, he poured a little alcohol into the wound to sterilize it. Once the surgery was completed to his satisfaction, Doc and Ma Smalley carefully moved the unknown woman to the back room and got her safely tucked into the bed.
"Thank you Ma," he said as he gathered his instruments in preparation for cleaning.
"Aw now, don't you mention it, Doctor Adams. I wonder who the young lass is. I don't recall seeing her around town." She looked at him, expecting some kind of explanation but he had none.
"Me neither Ma. I think it would be best not to mention this to anyone until I've had a chance to talk with the marshal."
"I understand." She stopped on her way to the door to fasten the bonnet under her chin. It would cover her hastily arranged hair.
"Doctor, if you'd like some breakfast - nothing fancy mind - come over in about 'tirty' minutes. I'll be fixin' for my boarders and 'tis no trouble to make an extra plate. You look like you could do with feeding up a bit."
Doc smiled to himself as she left. Ma Smalley was one of those women no town should be without.
()()()
Later that same morning marshal Matt Dillon was finishing up the last two reports that needed to leave for Washington on the afternoon stage. He stood up and stretched his long arms above his head to relieve the cramp in his shoulders. Writing reports always made his neck ache.
The stove was almost out so he threw another log on the fire and picked up the empty coffee pot. There was just enough water in the bucket to brew a little more so while he waited for it to boil he stood watching Front Street through the window.
He was about to reach for his coffee mug when he caught sight of Doc. His friend had a determined stride and from the look on his face, the physician was almost certainly heading this way.
"Come on in, Doc!" He called as Adams opened the door. "No need to knock!"
Adams ignored the comment. Matt could see from his friend's even more scruffy than usual appearance, that he'd had a rough morning and probably a rough night before that.
"Coffee?" Matt questioned holding up a second mug. Doc pulled a chair out from the small table in the middle of the office. He nodded and the marshal placed the steaming cup in front of him.
"Sit down Matt, I need to tell you something."
Dillon pulled the other chair away from the table, spun it around so that he could sit astride it and face the physician.
Doc pulled on his ear with his left hand while thinking for a moment or two before speaking. "Matt," he said as if still wondering how to proceed, "there's a lady in my office."
"Are you complaining or just braggin'?"
Adams disregarded the remark. "This lady arrived on my doorstep about three o'clock this morning. She'd been shot in the back. I took a bullet out of her and right now I'm waiting to see how she does. "
The marshal continued to study his friend. He'd asked the physician to inform him of any bullet wounds he treated, but the doctor didn't often have such a sense of urgency about it as he did right now.
"Thanks for letting me know. I'll come along and talk to her a little later."
"Won't do you much good. She's been unconscious since she arrived and I'm not sure if she's gonna wake up." Doc paused to take a mouthful or two of the freshly made coffee. "Hey, this is pretty good. You make it?"
Dillon continued without comment. "Tell me about this woman."
"I don't know much about her. She collapsed against my door in the early hours. There was no-one with her that I could see. I looked up and down the street but it was dark and empty, no sign of a horse or a wagon or anything to tell me how she got there."
He paused and took another mouthful of the brew before replacing the mug on the table and reaching into the right hand pocket of his well-worn coat.
"I thought you'd like to see this." He pulled out a metal star and placed it on the table between them. "It looks a lot like that badge you wear, Matt."
Dillon picked it up and turned it over in his hand. Indeed it was almost exactly the same as the one he wore.
"Maybe she found it somewhere?"
"I don't know. She hasn't said anything since she arrived. I'll tell you that she had a colt pistol in a holster buckled around her waist and I found that," he indicated the badge that Dillon was still looking at, "in a pocket of her skirts."
"Can you tell me anything else about her?" Matt had finished his coffee and got up to get the coffee pot. He poured a little more of the liquid into Adams' cup and refilled his own before returning the it to the stove. With one hip parked on the corner of his desk he looked across at his friend who was wrapping his fingers around the warm mug.
"Not much," Adams said thoughtfully while gazing into the dark liquid. "I'd say she's about 30 years old. Curly, shoulder length dark brown hair. About five foot six inches tall, probably weighs about 130 pounds. Along with that badge she had $50 in her shirt pocket. From her hands I'd say she's worked hard. Done a lot of riding by the look of the boots she wore. She doesn't wear a wedding ring, and I don't think she's ever had a baby - although I can't be completely sure of that."
"And you have no idea where she came from or how she got to your office?"
"None at all."
"You're pretty sure someone must have dropped her off though."
"It would seem that way." Adams took a breath and sighed. "I have to get back to check on her now. You'd better come along soon if you want to see her alive."
The physician got up from his seat slowly and went to the door. "I'll see you later Matt," he said. He placed the now empty coffee mug on the table and left.
Matt closed the door behind the physician and watched him as he wearily made his way back along the boardwalk towards his office. His fingers still held the badge that Doc had brought. He looked at it once more wondering how a young woman had come by a bullet wound and a marshal's badge. Then as if suddenly he made up his mind, he grabbed his gun belt from its peg, planted his hat on his head and hurried out the door.
TBC