DOCTOR James Armridge was a tall, slender man with a mane of thick white hair and a pair of firm yet gentle hands. He checked the reading on the portable electrocardiograph, jotted down his findings, then removed the electrodes from Rayburn’s torso.
“That’s all, Jack. You can get dressed now.”
“How am I doing?” Rayburn, big, stocky, his barrel chest covered with a thick mat of hair, paused as he zipped his shirt. “How long have I got?”
“That depends.” Armridge pursed his lips in the age-old manner of medical men who are asked more than they consider they should tell. “I wish that you’d come down to the hospital for a thorough checkup. There are some laboratory tests I’d like to make with non-portable equipment.”
“Quit stalling, Jim.” Rayburn spoke with the familiarity of an old friend.
