Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona by Miralee Ferrell Page A

looked to be in his early thirties appeared at the door, Townsley right on his heels. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I just finished with a surgery. Bullet wound. Had to dig so deep I felt like I was performing assessment work.” He grinned and cocked his head. “Rich in lead but too punctured to hold whiskey. Poor chap pulled through. Hopefully he’ll not get liquored up next time when he decides to accost someone with a gun. Now, how can I help you?”
    Christy held out her arm. “I’m afraid liquor had little to do with this bullet wound, Doctor, but there was certainly a gun involved.”
    Doctor Goodfellow had the grace to duck his chin. “Pardon my poor manners, ma’am. It seems I’ve been in the wilderness too long and no longer know how to address a lady. I graduated with honors from Cleveland Medical College, but you’d certainly not know it from my behavior today.” He beckoned her toward the door. “Come. I’ll take you back to an exam room and fix you right up.”
    Gordon Townsley stepped forward. “I’ll wait for you, Miss Grey.”
    “No need. I’m sure Doctor Goodfellow can direct me once we finish. There’s no telling how long this will take.”
    “Nonsense. I have no pressing business to attend to, at any rate.” He settled onto a wooden chair in the waiting area.
    “All right. Thank you.”
    She followed the doctor beyond the open doorway and into a dark hallway. They walked three steps, then turned right into a cubbyhole lined with shelves on one side and holding nothing else but a cot with a small table alongside.
    “You said your name is Miss Grey?” The doctor motioned to the cot. “Sorry I don’t have anything better to offer. If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat on the edge?” He reached for a clean cloth, a towel, and a pot of water while she perched on the canvas surface. “I’m going to soak this bandana before I try to remove it. You might want to spread this towel over your skirt so it doesn’t get wet.”
    She did as he suggested, and the next few minutes passed in silence as the doctor carefully removed the cloth tied around her arm. He swabbed the blood-encrusted area and probed at the wound with skilled fingers but made no comment. Christy bit her lip to keep from crying out. The hole in her flesh started bleeding again, and a burning heat shot from her elbow up to her shoulder.
    “I’m sorry. I know it hurts. Would you like some laudanum for the pain?”
    “No. I won’t touch it.” She didn’t care to tell him her sister, Molly, had used it more than once, and she’d always believed her dependence on alcohol started with the nasty drug.
    “Up to you. I’ll be finished shortly, in any case.”
    He reached over to the nearby shelf and removed a can, prying open the lid. A foul odor drifted from the canister and Christy wrinkled her nose.
    “It smells bad,” he said apologetically, “but it’ll help seal the wound. It has turpentine in it, so it might sting, but that will pass quickly.” He dipped his fingers in the concoction and smeared a liberal amount on a piece of gauze, then placed it over the gaping hole.
    Christy gasped and gritted her teeth.
    “Sorry.” The doctor unwound a long strip of clean white cloth and wrapped it around her arm from her elbow almost to her shoulder, covering the entire affected area, and drew her sleeve back down. “There we go. I’ll want to see you tomorrow.”
    “How much do I owe you?” She reached for her reticule and groaned. She’d tucked it into the seat of the stagecoach and the outlaws had found it. Thankfully the rest of her money still rested in her trunk.
    “You can settle up after I see you again.” Doctor Goodfellow pulled open the door of the small exam room and ushered her back up the hall to the waiting area. “Care to take any laudanum with you, Miss?”
    “No, but thank you for seeing me, and I’ll come back tomorrow.” Christy extended her hand, and he took it, bowing over it for a