“Looks bad,” said Hal Titzell, shaking his head.
Slim was watching the doctor, now working over his patient with practiced hands. He called for hot water from the hotel and a bystander hurried away to return shortly with a steaming kettle of water.
There was nothing Slim and Chuck could do in the doctor’s office and they stepped outside.
“I’ll see that the team’s cared for,” said Chuck, leading the exhausted animals back toward the stable.
Slim, leaning against the hitching rail in front of the doctor’s office, stared into the blackness across Stony creek, wondering what secret it held of the attack which had struck down the cattleman. Chuck returned presently and they conversed in low tones.
“I found his rifle and revolver in the bottom of the wagon,” said Chuck. “The six gun must have fallen out of his holster. Neither one had been fired, which means he was ambushed.”
“I expected as much. The gang we’re up against doesn’t give a man a chance.”
Slim paused suddenly. Hal Titzell emerged from the doctor’s office.
“What’s the news?” asked Chuck.
“A little too early to say definitely,” replied the cattle buyer. “Adam’s been creased pretty deeply by a rifle bullet along the right side of his head. Doc thinks he may pull through but it’s going to be tough going.”