“Are you—are you connected with the railroad??'
“In a way, yes—I'm the contract surgeon—had to dig a bullet out of a water-tank tender back yonder—fellow howled as though I was killing him—no nerve—mighty poor stuff most of the riff-raff out here—ball wasn't in much below the skin—Indian must have plugged him from the top of the bluff—blame good shot too—ragged looking slug—like to see it?”
She shook her head energetically.
“Don't blame you—nothing very uncommon—get a dozen cases like it a day sometimes—stay in Sheridan, show you something worth while—very pretty surgical operation to-morrow—come round and get you if you care to see it—got to open the stomach—don't know what I'll find—like to go?”
“Oh, no! I'm sure you mean it all kindly, but—but I would rather not.”
“Hardly supposed you would—only knew one woman who cared for that sort of thing much—she was nursing for me during the war—had a hare lip and an eye like a dagger—good nurse though—rather have your kind round me—ever nurse any? Could get you a dozen jobs in Sheridan—new prospects every night—fifty dollars a week—what do you say?”
“But I'm not seeking work, Doctor,” smiling in spite of her bewilderment. “I have money enough with me.”
“Well, I didn't know—thought maybe you wanted a job, and didn't like to ask for it—have known 'em like that—no harm done—if you ever do want anything like that, just come to me—my name's Fairbain—everybody knows me here—operated on most of 'em—rest expect to be—Damn that engineer. I don't believe he knows whether he's going ahead or backing up.” He peered out of the window, pressing his face hard against the glass. “I reckon that's Sheridan he's whistling for now—don't be nervous—I'll see you make the hotel all right.”