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hiding under my bed, but I saw it through a crack in the door. He got away with it by saying that she fell on her own.”

“Frank Timmons, eh?” The sheriff made notes as they spoke. “Does he know that you saw him murder your mother?”

Elsie cast her eyes downward. She knew that telling Frank had been a big mistake, but once again, her temper had gotten the best of her. Elsie nodded in reply.

“So, we’re looking for a murderer as well. He has a good reason to want to find you, ma’am.” He made more notes on the paper. “I’ll telegraph some of the other sheriffs with his description, too. If he’s coming all the way from West Virginia, it could take him a while to get here.” He looked at Elsie. “Do you think he could afford to take a train?”

Elsie knew he couldn’t since he always drank up every penny he had earned. “No, sir. He’d probably try to ride here on his horse, stopping at every saloon on the way.”

Sheriff Babcock let out a roaring laugh. “Then, don’t worry. He’ll most likely get killed in a saloon fight before he makes it near Hays City, but just in case, we’ll be waiting for him.”

Elsie let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Conner asked her, “Would he take a stagecoach?”

“He works in a coal mine, and if he didn’t drink all of his pay, he might pay for a stage, especially if he rode on the roof since it’s cheaper. I could refuse that option since I had enough money, thanks to Conner.”

The sheriff stood, signaling that the meeting was over, so Conner and Elsie rose too. He walked them to the door and reassured them he’d be on the lookout for Frank.

Conner puzzled Elsie. When she’d read Mae’s letter and trembled, he’d gone immediately to her side, and he hadn’t hesitated to put his arms around her to pull her close, but now, he was the same cool, distant Conner. She’d hoped they’d crossed a bridge that would help span their awkwardness with each other the other day.

Spring was unseasonably hot that year, making the clinic warm and humid, causing Elsie to use her paper fan when she could. They were seeing many children in for falls and scrapes. The school was out for the season, and they had at least two children for patients nearly every day. While treating the children, Elsie wondered if she’d ever have any. She loved children, but it wasn’t a subject she felt comfortable discussing with Conner. He seemed professional and kind with the children patients, but she wasn’t sure if he ever thought about having them. He’d never have any if he continued to be so cool with her, but she felt ready to move their relationship up a notch or two.

Conner and Elsie were cleaning up after a busy day and were preparing to close the clinic for the day when some men on horses galloped up to the clinic and came storming in.

“Doc, my brother here’s been shot.”

Conner patted the closest bed, as cool as ever. “Bring him over.”

The two other men half-walked, half-carried the man whose chest was bloody and his face looked pale as death. Elsie knew enough from working in the clinic it didn’t look good.

Once on the bed, Conner ripped the man’s shirt open to examine the wound, while the other two watched anxiously.

“The bullet,” Conner told them, “is near the heart. I know it couldn’t have hit his heart, or he’d be dead by now. The bad news is I must operate to remove the bullet, and being so close to the heart, it’s a dangerous procedure.”

 â€śWell,” the tallest of the scruffy men said, “we’ll take your assistant here, as collateral.” The man grabbed Elsie and held her in front of him. “If Mac dies, we kill her.” The man held a knife to Elsie’s throat. “So, you’d better make sure my brother lives.”

Elsie trembled in fear. The man’s hands were rough, and her arms hurt from his grip on her as he held the icy blade of his knife to her throat. She hadn’t prayed in years, but what else could a human in trouble do but pray? If there was a God, He’d help her. She thought about what she’d gleaned from the Sunday sermons that she’d pretended not to hear. She could still recall Reverend McDougal once say something like, “I will protect him who acknowledges my name.”

Conner cut into the man’s chest, and she prayed, “God, I have never acknowledged you, but I’ve been rethinking things lately. Conner is an intelligent man, and not only does he acknowledge you, but he loves you. I’d like that, too, and not just because I’m in deep trouble but because I’ve grown closer to you by each of Reverend McDougal’s sermons, and I’m asking You for help. Please don’t let the patient die. Amen.”

The surgery took a long time, so the men took some seats. The one who was holding her let her sit in the chair beside him, but he still kept the knife to her throat.

Elsie watched Conner stop to wipe his brow continuously. Was it the warmth of the afternoon or was he nervous? He glanced her way a few times but gave her no clue as to his status with his patient.

Finally, she saw Conner drop something into a metal cup with a loud clink. “I got the bullet out,” he said, “but we’re not out of the woods just yet.”

Elsie felt the man tighten his hold on the knife at her throat. “Ya’d better pray he makes it, Doc,” the man said.

Conner sewed up the wound and then beat on the man’s chest. “His heart has stopped,” Conner cried as he kept pounding.

Elsie felt faint. If the man died,

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