“Son of a bitch! No way!” Ponci said angrily. Sitting up, he put his hand down protectively over his leg. “Huh-uh,” he said, shaking his head vigorously. “You ain’t goin’ to take off my leg!”
“I didn’t say anything about taking off your leg.”
“You said I had gangrene.”
“I said you have the beginnings of gangrene. It hasn’t gone far enough to consider amputation. I can still save it.”
“That’s good,” Ponci said, his expression of relief evident. He lay back down on the examining table. “That’s good.”
“So, what you’re sayin’ is, you can give him something to fix it up, then we can go on, right?” Fargo asked.
“Oh, no, I didn’t say that. This is going to require a very aggressive treatment.”
“Aggressive treatment? Like what?”
“I’ll have to get some meat from the butcher, then leave it outside until I can cultivate some fly maggots,” Dr. Andrews said.
“Fly maggots? What the hell do you want them nasty things for?”
“To treat his leg,” Andrews said. “You see, the fly maggots eat away the dead flesh. And they eat only dead flesh. That will keep the infection from infesting any more of the leg.”
“How’s he goin’ to keep them maggots on his leg while he’s ridin?” Fargo asked.
Dr. Andrews chuckled and shook his head. “He’s not going to be doing any riding,” he said. “He’s going to have to stay right here in bed.”
“For how long?”
“Well, it’ll take a day or two to cultivate the maggots. Then, they’ll need to work for at least four or five days in order to get all the dead flesh out of there and stop the spread. Your friend is going to be laid up for the better part of a week at least. And to be sure that all the infection is gone, I’d recommend that it be even longer.”
“Well, Ponci, I reckon this is where we part company,” Fargo said. “Me’n the others has got to keep going.”
“Wait a minute, you plannin’ on just leavin’ me here?”
“Yeah, that is my plan.”
“You son of a bitch! You damn sure better not leave me here,” Ponci said.
“You heard the doctor, Ponci. He said it was goin’ to take a while to get you well.”
“I ain’t stayin’ here,” Ponci said again. He looked at the doctor. “Ain’t you got somethin’ that’ll make it stop hurting?”
“Well, yes, I can give you some laudanum,” Dr. Andrews said. He shook his head. “But all that’ll do is stop the pain. It won’t make your leg any better.”
“Just give me somethin’ for the pain,” Ponci said. “I’ll let the leg heal itself.”
“Don’t you understand? The leg won’t heal itself,” Andrews said. “If it isn’t treated, it will only get worse. Then it will be too late for any kind of treatment. Then the leg really will have to be amputated.”
“They ain’t nobody goin’ to take off my leg!” Ponci said again.
“Then you will die,” Dr. Andrews said flatly.
“What do you say, Ponci?” asked Fargo. “You want to stay here and be treated, or go on with us?”
“What about my share?”
“We divide it when we get to where we’re goin’.”
“I want my share now.”
“No,” Fargo said resolutely. “Either come with us and get your share when we all divide ... or stay here with nothin’. It’s up to you.”
“Well, now, you are givin’ me a hell of a choice to make, ain’t you?” Ponci said angrily. “Either stay here and get cheated out of my share, or come with you and die. Is that what you’re sayin’?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I’m sayin’,” Fargo agreed.
“Ponci, you brung this on yourself,” Dagen said. “Fargo told you to quit messin’ aroun’ with that little ole girl. Well, you didn’t and she cut you. So, whatever happens, you got no one to blame but your ownself.”
Ponci glared at Dr. Andrews for a moment. “Give me some laudanum.”
“I told you, the laudanum won’t stop the infection,” Andrews said.
“I said give me the damn laudanum!” Ponci shouted.
Dr. Andrews sighed, then went to his medicine cabinet and started to pour some laudanum into a small bottle.
“Give me all of it,” Ponci said, grabbing the entire bottle.
“That will be twenty dollars,” the doctor said.
“Here, Doc, don’t think we ain’t grateful,” Fargo said, handing the doctor a handful of bills.
Dr. Andrews looked at them, and his eyes grew wide with surprise. “This is one hundred dollars,” he said.
“Like I said, I don’t want you to think we ain’t grateful. Ponci, if you are going with us, get your pants back on,” Fargo ordered.
Andrews counted eighty dollars out, then handed it back to Fargo.
“I’m keeping twenty dollars for the laudanum. I can’t accept the rest of the money.”
“Why the hell not?” Fargo asked.
Andrews looked pointedly at Ponci.
“Because your friend is going to die,” he said.
Staring defiantly at the doctor, Ponci turned the bottle up and took a couple of swallows.
“And if you don’t watch the way you use that stuff, you’ll be dead before you get out of town,” Andrews said.
Ponci pulled on his trousers, wincing with pain as he did so.
“Look, we ain’t goin’ to hang back none for you neither,” Fargo said to Ponci. “If you come with us, you are going to have to keep up.”
“I’ll keep up,” Ponci said. “Don’t you worry none about me. I’ll keep up.”
CHAPTER 9
It was dark by the time the stagecoach rolled into Oro Blanco. The depot manager stepped out onto the front porch, carrying a lantern with him.
“I was beginnin’ to get a little worried about you folks,” the depot manager said. “You ain’t never been this late before.”
“Sorry, Clark, but we was held up,” Gentry said.
“What held you up? Was there another rock slide across the road?”
“No, I mean held up, as in a holdup. We was robbed by a bunch of road agents.”
“The hell you say.” Clark held the lantern a little higher and looked more closely. “Where’s Kerry?”
“They kilt ’im, Clark,” Gentry said. “He’s lying up here on top of the stage.”
“Oh, hell. I hate to hear that. Kerry was a good man. A little strange sometime, but he was a good, God-fearin’ man.”
The door to the stage opened then, and Johnson was the first one to step out. He held his finger up.
“Mr. Clark, don’t you think for one moment that the stagecoach company is not going to hear from me,” he said. “When a person buys a ticket for passage on the stagecoach, he should have every right to think that the stagecoach will get him safely to his destination.”
“Was you hurt any in the holdup, Johnson?” Gentry asked.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Well, then, this is your destination and you got here safe, so what are you bitchin’ about?” Gentry asked curtly.
“I got here safe, yes, but it was no thanks to you,” Johnson replied. “You would have let them kill me if I hadn’t told them where the money was.”
“Wait a minute,” Clark said. He stared at Johnson. “You told the robbers where the money was?”
“I had to. I didn’t have no choice,” Johnson said. “They would’ve killed me other wise.” He pointed to Gentry. “And he was just going to let them do it.”
“Get out of my sight, you little pissant,” Gentry said. “And you best find yourself some other way to travel from now on, ’cause I ain’t ever carryin’ you on my stage again.”
“What? How dare you talk to me like that?” Johnson said. He looked at Clark. “You are in charge. Are you going to let him talk to me like that?”
Gentry stepped down onto the front wheel, then jumped down right in front of Johnson.
“Did you hear what I said?” Gentry asked.
“No!” Johnson shouted in fear, jumping back from him and holding his hands out in front of him. “Mr. Clark, you saw him threaten me.”