One More Sunrise Read Online Free PDF

dodged the meaty fist. This time he drove a piston-style punch to the man’s solar plexus. The breath gushed from his mouth, spraying blood, and Dane followed with a powerful blow to his jaw.
    The big man’s legs wobbled and his eyes glazed slightly. Dane rushed in and chopped him again with another punch to the jaw, whipping his head to one side, then as the man was righting himself, Dane hit him with another left, then followed with another right, putting him down.
    When the big man hit the ground, people cheered. Ernie Piper was on his feet now, holding a hand to his midsection, his eyes bulging. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
    The man was gasping for breath on the ground and rolled on to his knees, staring up through a blue haze at the lithe man who had put him down. There was a roaring inside his skull. He shook his head to clear it, but the roaring continued. His wrath was hot. He clenched his blood-stained teeth and struggled to his feet.
    “Haven’t you had enough?” asked Dane. “Best thing for you to do is to move on and forget whatever was going on between you and Ernie. You outweigh him by at least eighty pounds.”
    The man let out an animal-like roar and charged, fists pumping. His legs were unsteady, but it was obvious that he intended to destroy this adept young man who had put him down.
    Dane ducked both hissing fists and drove another powerful blow to his solar plexus that bent him over. A whistling left hook cracked on his jaw, and he hit the ground facedown, out cold.
    The crowd roared its approval while Dr. Dane turned to Ernie. “You hurt?”
    Ernie shook his head. “Nothing serious, Doc. Just some sore ribs. I’m okay.”
    At that moment, pounding hooves were heard, and three riders skidded to a halt. Immediately men in the crowd began telling Sheriff Jack Polson and his two deputies what had happened.
    Looking puzzled, Ernie said, “Dr. Logan, did you used to be a professional boxer?”
    Dane grinned. “No. Nothing like that.”
    “Well, where’d you learn to fight like that?”
    “On the streets of New York City,” responded the doctor. “And for recreation while I was in medical college, I used to go to a gym in Chicago and do some boxing.”
    By this time, Sheriff Polson—who was in his late forties—moved up to the pair and glanced down at the unconscious man on the ground. “Doc, we’ve had trouble with T. J. Finnegan before. Every time he comes to town, he starts trouble of some kind. And it’s always after he’s been drinking in the saloon for a while.” Then to the small man he said, “Ernie, are you all right?”
    “I’m a little sore in the ribs, Sheriff, but I’m okay. Personally, I think you ought to talk young Dr. Logan into being one of your deputies. He’s really good with his fists.”
    Polson grinned. “So I was just told.” He set his eyes on the doctor, who had T. J. Finnegan’s blood sprayed on his white shirt. “You want to give up doctoring and put on a badge?”
    Dane chuckled. “No, thanks, Sheriff. I’ll stick to doctoring. Infact, I’d better get to the office. I’ve been out at the
Rocking D Ranch
patching up young Josh Donaldson. He got bucked off a horse and landed on his shoulder, dislocating it. I had to set it and put his arm in a sling. Dad was delivering a baby on a ranch east of town. He may not be back yet, and Mom may have an office full of patients waiting to be taken care of. I need to get there right away.”
    By this time, the big man was conscious. He groped his way to his feet, blood running from his split lips. The sheriff faced him and said, “Looks like your lips are split pretty bad, T. J. Maybe you’d better let Dr. Logan stitch them up.”
    Finnegan’s eyes widened as he set them on Dane. “You’re not Dr. Logan.”
    “Yes, he is,” spoke up one of the deputies. “He’s Dr. Jacob Logan’s son. Dr. Dane is his partner now.”
    Finnegan looked Dane up and down. “You a boxer?”
    “No. I just