As they shuffled along the boardwalk, Johan moving backwards with his arms scooped under Hector's shoulders and Clara doing an admirable job of following, supporting the young man's knees.  The progress was slow, but soon enough they were around the corner and hopefully safe from the gun-play going on in the street.  Keeping up with them, Addy was doing her best to stay alert to any danger.  While she was fairly certain that they were out of harm's way, there was no telling in a situation like this what might happen or who might show up!

When they reached the new building, Addy darted ahead of the pair and their burden, opening the door for them.  Inside, it was definitely unfinished, there were still some open studs (not counting the doctor), and equipment covered in protective tarps. 

"Put him on the desk there..."  Currently the only available flat surface.  "And if you could get your hand back on that wound, Mrs. Lutz...I need to find some equipment."  Equipment that was buried in crates somewhere...

Brendan's first shot didn't go precisely where he'd wanted it to, but it accomplished his goal: letting the blonde waitress escape. The man he'd shot in the leg was down, badly injured if not dead, thanks to the newcomer with the Winchester. That left the three men firing at Guyer -- make that two thanks to Ralph -- and the one lone man who'd been trying to get to his horse.

Brendan cursed softly and moved out into the street a little bit. He wanted to avoid hitting the horses if at all possible, but with how spooked they were with the gunfire, it would be hard to get a clean shot at him without collateral damage. He'd let the man with the Winchester handle that for now.

He sprinted further down the street toward the saloon, paused to plant his feet and take a shot at one of the men near the saloon. His shot went wide, smacking into one of the posts that supported the overhang of the saloon. Brendan darted into the nearest side street and hunkered down by the side of a house to try to avoid any bullets that might come his way. He realized he'd been lucky with his first shot, especially for how out of practice he was with his firearms.

Morgan watched the wounded gunman make his way over to the horse trough and flop behind it. He had been reluctant to fire on the moving man because any misses might head down the street and catch some innocent party. Now, however, he was a perfectly good target behind his cover. Morgan shouldered the rifle again, then fired and levered several times...sending rounds smacking into the wood and water of the trough. After his third shot he paused, levering the rifle to reload.

"You're in a lot of trouble, amigo! I can keep putting holes in that trough until I get lucky or you can give up to the law...the choice is yours!" Morgan reached under his serape and tugged out some rounds to refill his rifle. His Winchester had a full twenty four inch barrel and a magazine to match. He didn't really need to reload, but habits either kept you alive or got you killed.

Inside the building, a ways off the main street, it was surprisingly quiet, and Jonah appreciated that, although after a few moments even the muted 'ping' of gunfire stopped.

It didn't take him long to find what he needed, and he was soon back with Clara and Hector.  "I'll need some help extracting the bullet," he told her, fairly confident she'd be all right, and as a mother, she'd have to learn to deal with blood anyway!  "I could use some of that hot water that you fetched for Marshal Guyer, but that's not possible right now." 

He grinned at Clara, then set about cleaning around the wound before he started probing with the forceps, trying to find the bullet that would have to come out before he could deal with the collapsed lung.  "I think he'll be fine," he murmured, as much to himself as to Clara.