Chapter 2By the time the Doc got to the saloon, Sheriff Hawkins was drinking his fourth glass of medicinal whiskey. The whiskey helped ease the pain from the wound a little, but it still hurt pretty bad. 'Just a scratch,' the Doc said, soon as he'd had the opportunity to look at the wound. 'Expect it hurts like a bastard, though.'
The Doc, an egg-shaped man pushing fifty, who was dressed in a grey suit that he wore with a grey waistcoat and a bow tie, had Sheriff Hawkins sit on a chair and strip down to the waist, there in the saloon. Then he set about cleaning and dressing the wound.
When she saw the Sheriff sitting there like that Molly Gryce, the saloon girl, said, 'Now there's a fine figure of a man, I must say.'
Betty Withers smiled. 'Seems like the Sheriff's been keeping his best
