The doctor grabbed his daughter by the shoulder and pulled her down to the floor with him as the shot rang out. He cradled her in his arms until he realized that the bartender was prodding him.
"Sheriff’s been injured doc."
He looked over at the man on the floor holding his leg with his uninjured arm. He stood up taking Elizabeth with him.
"Liz, run to the house and get my bag." His voice was calm, he had treated so many gunshot wounds before he cursed himself for not bring his tools with him, especially to the saloon.
He watched as his daughter obeyed his command and ran out the doors and then knelt down beside the sheriff. He tore a couple strips of cloth from the sherriff's own shirt and wrapped it tightly around his upper arm and thigh. The wounded man didn't fight the attention continuing to moan in pain.
Elizabeth burst through the saloon doors and the difference in light from the dim and dusty saloon blinded her for an instant. She raised her hand to shield her eyes, then took flight in the direction of her home. Her mind was racing just as fast as her feet were moving. She had seen many victims of a gunshot, but had never been near when the shot had actually accrued. She felt a bit ill as she entered her house. She ran to her father's study, grabbed his tool bag and ran back towards the saloon.