Ch05
The heavy, iron-wrought latch of the clinic door clicked shut, sealing the room off from the chaotic, raucous noise of the Lemon Saloon's main floor. Outside, the ragtime piano hammered away, a frantic, out-of-tune melody that clashed with the rowdy shouts of cowboys and the clinking of cheap beer glasses. Inside the back room, however, the air was still, smelling sharply of carbolic acid, lye soap, and the coppery tang of the traveler's blood that Devon was methodically scru