“Done,” she said, straightening and mopping sweat from her face.
“One minute and fifty-six seconds,” Ryan said. “And Doc never even stirred.”
At that precise moment the old man’s blue eyes opened. “Thank you, Mama,” he whispered. “The agony has somewhat abated.” He fell back into the blackness.
Straub was softly clapping his hands. “That was quite brilliant, Dr. Wyeth. If you were to choose to stay here in the ville and serve the countess, then I’m certain your financial reward would be beyond your dreams.”
“Never dream about jack, Straub,” she replied. “But thanks for the offer.”
“Sure, sure.”
“He all right?” Ryan asked. “Breathing slow.”
Mildred took his pulse and checked respiration. “Gone into clinical shock. Not surprised at that. Now he can relax.” She held up the appendix, showing it around the room. “See the size and color. Doc was almost knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door. Another hour, and it might have burst and I’m not sure I could have saved him without proper facilities.”
“Will you leave him here in the middle of my kitchen?” the countess asked. “I would prefer it if he could be moved to his own room.”
Mildred looked at her. ” ‘Course. Your roast pork and three vegetables comes before the health of a frail old man, doesn’t it, Countess?”
“You hold your damned impudent tongue, or I’ll have it hacked off at the roots and nailed to the door of the outside john.”
“I don’t think so,” Ryan said quietly. “Not unless you wanted to be having a major burying party real soon.”
She pointed a finger at him, turning toward the three watching sec men. “If I tell you, you’re to chill all the outlanders. On my word.”
Ryan shook his head, keeping his voice gentle and nonconfrontational. “Again I don’t think so. By the time these boys draw the Rugers and get them into action, we’ll have them down in the blood and dirt. Let’s keep it calm, Countess.”
Straub started to giggle once more. “The unstoppable up against the immovable. One must bend or break. Or both.”
Mildred was washing her hands in a sink in the corner of the kitchen. “It’s cool,” she said. “Doc can be moved, carefully. Ryan, you and John do that.”
Ryan nodded. “Sure. Mebbe we can all go up and take a break. Thanks a lot for the help and letting us save Doc’s life down here, Countess. I appreciate it.”
“How much?”
“Plenty.”
“Enough to do what I asked?”
He shook his head slowly. “I’m real sorry. No. Not that. But we are truly grateful.”
She bit her lip. “Go out of my sight, outlanders.” She turned toward the door, then stopped. “We have caught a traitor among our sec men. He will be executed this afternoon at three, out back of the ville. I would want you to see how we punish those who are not faithful to us.”
THEY WERE ALL GATHERED around Doc’s bed when the old man finally blinked awake from his coma. He groaned, turning his head from side to side, the mane of silvery hair matted with sweat, his face lined with pain.
“The agony has not, after all, abated,” he murmured. “Can you do nothing for me, Dr. Wyeth? What of your Hippocratic oath to aid the afflicted?”
“I’ve aided you, Doc,” Mildred said.
“Then why am I still torn by the vultures while chained helpless to this mighty boulder?”
“Pain’ll be bad right now, though they had some tablets in their pharmacy that should work. Herbal stuff. I got you to swallow them just after the operation.”
“Operation?”
“Yeah.”
“You mean that I have gone under the knife, and the knife was held by you, ma’am? My worst possible nightmare, and I didn’t even know it was happening.”
“You had real bad appendicitis,” Ryan said. “Already had one foot on the westbound train.”
Doc’s eyes widened. “My appendix. Yes, that makes sense for the pain and where it lay.” He touched himself gingerly, feeling the roll of bandages across his stomach. “And you operated and took it out, Doctor?”
“Sure did.”
“And I yet live?”
Mildred grinned. “So far, so good, Doc.”