I awoke to someone pounding on the door of the cabin. Dawn got up and slipped into her dress to answer the door. Upon opening it, she discovered the storekeeper and two other men. One of the other two was hurt, with an arrow protruding from his shoulder.
I heard Mr. Miller ask, "Is the Doc here? We have a wounded man here. There was an Indian attack at his claim. Him and his partner here managed to run them off before they could do much, but he got shot with an arrow."
I went to the door and quickly checked the injured man. I looked out toward next door and saw that Rose and Sally already had the boys up and out, getting ready to return to the ranch. Seeing that the cabin I normally would use as my office was therefore free, I told the men to take the injured man to the next cabin, and that I'd be right there.
As soon as I was dressed, I went next door to examine my patient. I noted that the arrow in his shoulder was the same as those we'd seen stuck in the two dead prospectors Grandpa and I found. Like those, it had the black and blue bands of the Crow, not the red and yellow bands that marked those the Sioux used. I asked him if he had seen anyone, but he said it was dark and they were gone quickly once he and his friend started shooting back. He thought there were only three or four of them, though.
As I worked at removing the arrow, I told the injured man, "I don't think you were attacked by Indians. The arrow that hit you in the shoulder was Crow, not Sioux. The colors are all wrong — the Crow use black and blue and the Sioux use yellow and red. The Crow are enemies of the Sioux. They would hardly ever be found around these parts, especially a small party. From this, and some other similar attacks I've heard of, I suspect that it was white men that attacked you, trying to make it look like it was Indians.
"The Crow are normally found in Montana, or near the border, not around here. Do you know of any prospectors near here from Montana? If there are, then there's a good chance that's where the arrows came from."
He frowned in thought for a few minutes then he remembered something, "Now that I think of it, there's the Baxter brothers — they're from Miles City. They must've struck it big because they always seem to have lots of money. It seems like they're always over at the Lucky Lady Saloon. I think they live in one of the rooms upstairs. But, what's so odd, they never seem to be at their claim, and they haven't been here all that long to have made a big strike."
His friend spoke up. "Funny you should mention the Baxters, Pete Now I think of it, the first robbery and killin' happened about the same time they first got here."
The conversation had distracted the man enough that I got the arrow out without too much fuss. Once it was out, I cleaned and sutured the wound, using about eight stitches to close it properly. After bandaging it, I told him how to tend for his wound properly, emphasizing cleanliness, and instructed him to come back in 10 days to have the stitches removed. I charged him $12 and told him the follow-up was covered by that.
As the men were getting ready to leave, I pinned on my badge to some very surprised looks. I said, "Guess the word hasn't gotten around that as of yesterday there's now a regular lawman for the area. I'm fair, but I think you also know from what happened yesterday that I don't take any guff either. Right, Mr. Miller?" That worthy just nodded.
I checked my guns and flexed my hands. I smiled coldly and drawled, "Now then, why don't we all just head on over to the Lucky Lady where you can point out the Baxter Brothers. Someone's trying to stir up Indian trouble by making people believe that it's the Indians doing all the killing, when in fact it is actually white men, who then make it look like it was Indians.
"Whoever it is, did the robberies and then killed the prospectors and planted those arrows to hide their identities because they think dead men can't tell. I'm here to tell you that to a trained lawman though, who knows what to look for, dead men do tell. From what you've told me of the Baxters, and what I have learned about how these crimes are being committed, I have a feeling that it's them who are responsible."
We were all quiet, lost in our own thoughts as we walked together down to the Lucky Lady, which was about three doors down from Sam's saloon. When we entered, we found it to be a dingy, disreputable place, just the stereotypical type of bar where you would expect to find outlaws and other people of low character — a place right out of a B-western. I half expected to see Clint Eastwood and Eli Wallach facing each other down at the long, dirty bar.
However, real life wasn't quite that dramatic, at least not this early in the morning. Still, for as early as it was, there were several patrons in various stages of inebriation. I asked the men with me to look around. Did they see any of the Baxter brothers there? They said they didn't.
I approached the bartender and asked if the Baxter brothers lived there, and if so, where they might be. At first the barkeep was of the attitude 'who wants to know?', but paled as he looked at my badge and checked out how I wore my guns. Deciding he didn't need the kind of trouble I represented, he allowed as how they did in fact rent a room there, and yes, they were presently in residence...
Gathering my witnesses together, we went up to the room the barman had indicated. I knocked politely on the door. Shortly a man opened it, looking and smelling as if he hadn't bathed in a very long time. It was apparent he was a real slob. What I could see of the room behind him reinforced my opinion, as it looked like a pigsty.
The slob tensed when he saw the badge on my shirt, but kept any rude remarks he may have been contemplating to himself. Stepping out into the hall with us, he asked what we wanted.
I remained polite as I asked, "Sorry to barge in, but we're looking for someone. Would you mind telling me your name, please?"
"Joshua Baxter, Marshal. Anything else?" the man replied, responding favorably to my polite enquiry.
"Yeah, sorry to be such a bother, but is there anyone else in here?" I asked, still maintaining the polite façade.
"Yup, my brothers. I'll get them for you." How obliging could he get? Before I could say anything else, he turned and called out, "Hey guys, c'mere! There's some people here looking for somebody!"
In response to his call, I heard some grumbling from deeper in the room, then the squeak of bedsprings being relieved of weight. Presently, two men, equally as scruffy as their brother, joined us in the hallway. One of the two was obviously the oldest of the three.
When they were all out and clear of easy cover, I simply said, "Baxters, you're all under arrest for robbery and murder."
The oldest one immediately went for his gun. I never hesitated, despite this being my first real gunfight. I instinctively drew my cross-draw and shot him, center-of-mass, in the chest, dropping him in his tracks.
The second brother still reached for his gun.
"Drop it! Or join your brother on the floor!"
When you look into the business end of a .44, it looks like a cannon. He obliged.
I had the men that were with me start to search the room.
"You men search the room while I keep Josh and his brother covered. Now don't you boys try anything stupid. I'm a little jumpy right now..."
It didn't take long before my companions found several pouches of gold and many other valuables. The most telling find, though was a small bow and about a dozen Crow arrows.
"You fellers have done a fine job. Looks like that's about all we're going to find here. Mr. Miller, you take that rope over there and tie Josh and his brother's hands behind them. No need to be gentle. Now my friends, let's take these clowns over and introduce them to Judge Mitchell. I think he'll be very interested in what they have been doing for a living."
I herded the Baxters out of the saloon and up the street to the courthouse. When I passed the bar on the way out, I handed the barkeep two dollars and told him to arrange for the dead man to be buried. We formed quite a parade to the courthouse.
When we entered the courthouse, I introduced myself to Judge Mitchell.
"Good morning, Judge. We met yesterday — I'm Clay Thomas. My Uncle Henry and I were in to see you about leasing some land."
"Good morning, Mr. Thomas. Last I heard, you were the new doctor in town. Now I see you wearing a badge. I've heard some rumors, and Jack left before I could talk to him. Now I'd like to hear it from you."
"Clay, Your Honor, just Clay — Mr. Thomas was my father. As you know, Uncle Henry and me got called away just as we finished up. We went to help our women folk get rid of a drunk. There was a bit of a dustup and the Marshal got involved. He liked how I handled myself and made me a deputy. I'm still the doctor, though. My rounds through the local area will let me do both at the same time."
"I'm glad to hear Jack got himself another deputy. He's stretched too thin by himself to do the job that needs doing. With you covering part of his territory, we'll be able to keep trouble under better control. Speaking of trouble, why have you brought these men here all trussed up like Christmas turkeys?"
"Judge, remember we told you yesterday about finding those prospectors dead and that it looked odd? Whoever did it, made the attack look like it was Indians, but they were sloppy."
"I recall. Go on. Consider this an official report. Don't stop until you're done."
"Well, from evidence we collected today, it is apparent these men are responsible for that and several other attacks. They have robbed and killed at least six men, and they attacked this man's claim last night. He was lucky and survived with just an arrow in the shoulder. In each case they tried to make it look like an Indian attack, but goofed and left clues behind that it wasn't.
"The Baxters are stupid, and even with that, might have gotten away with it, but they really caught a bad break when Uncle Henry and me stumbled on that one massacre. They're amateurs, where we are both trained, experienced lawmen and investigators.
"These guys — these Baxters — made a bunch of brainless mistakes. They left boot tracks instead of moccasin tracks. Their horses were shod. They robbed their victims of things white folk consider valuable — money, gold, jewelry. They left behind things Indians value — clothing, weapons and horses. Riderless horses returning to the stable was the first sign of trouble, but they shouldn't have come back. Indians would have caught them and kept them.
"But if the killers were trying to blame the local Indians, they totally screwed up by using Crow arrows. Like I told these men here, the Crow mark their arrows with blue and black bands while the Sioux mark theirs with red and yellow bands. The massacred prospectors, and our wounded friend here, all had Crow arrows stuck in them. But even without the arrows, we already knew it was done by white men.
"Judge, anyone who's lived in these parts for very long knows that the Crow and Sioux are enemies. So, you would hardly ever find Crow in known Sioux territory. The Crow territories are in southern Montana and northern Wyoming — not here.
"Once I figured out white men were the killers, I asked if anyone had recently arrived from Montana where they could easily acquire Crow Arrows. The only ones were the Baxter Brothers, from Miles City, which made them suspects. Even more damning was that they arrived at about the same time the robberies and killings started.
"We went to see them this morning and they convicted themselves by their actions. One is dead because he pulled a gun on me, and here are the other two, under arrest for robbery and murder. When we searched their room we found gold and other valuables. Some of the jewelry can be linked to the dead miners. We also found a small bow and several arrows with Crow markings.
"That's the whole story, Your Honor. We have 'em dead-to-rights. They're guilty as Hell. What do we do with them now?"
Through my whole report, the Judge had sat impassively, just nodding his head at certain points. When I finished, he looked at all of us then asked the injured man and his friend if everything I had said was right.
Pete declared, "Couldn't have said it better myself."
His partner and Mr. Miller agreed.
The Judge regarded the Baxters under beetling eyebrows. "You boys are in a heap of trouble. You didn't stand a chance when Hank Thomas and his nephew here got on your trail."
The two so-called bad-asses where strangely quiet.
The Judge turned to me.
"Now, on to more practical things. We don't really have a jail here in Hill City to keep the likes of them. The best we can do is a couple of storerooms in the basement here where we more normally throw the drunks and rowdies to sleep it off. I'll arrange for some extra guards. We can keep them there until we can have a trial. After that, I won't matter much because it'll be a short one. With the evidence you have collected, they will most likely hang. Justice is swift out here. They won't be using their room for long..."
I was skeptical of the incarceration plans, but what else could we do? We had no options short of taking them all the way to the stockade at Fort Laramie. And then they'd have to be brought back for the trial. Besides taking for ever, and keeping me away from other more important work, it allowed too many chances for them to escape. No, keeping them here, while not ideal, was still the best plan.
"I guess that will have to do. At least I can get on with other things that need doing right away. I have urgent medical business in Deadwood, as I find that I am also the only doctor in the area. I should take a quick trip around the local area both as a marshal and as a doctor. Plus, I have a lot of work to do back at the ranch."
The Judge grimaced. "Sounds like you're gonna be busy, Son. How long you figure you'll be gone? I want you here for the trial for your evidence, but I can't wait too long, either. When they hear we caught the killers, some people are going to demand quick justice. The sooner we have a legal trial, the less likely we are to have a lynching."
"I understand, Sir. The most urgent thing is the call to Deadwood. That shouldn't take long. Regardless, I will be back in a few days just to check on my patients here. I'll be using two of the cabins behind the general store as my doctor's office and as a place to stay with my wives when I'm in town. You can always leave a message there for me. I'll get it no matter what time of day or night I roll in."
"That's good, Marshall. I won't hold you any longer from your rounds. Lock these fools up and be on your way."
After I locked the Baxter Brothers in one of the storerooms and made sure they were secure, I thanked Mr. Miller and the two miners for their help.
I told the man with the wounded shoulder, "I should be back in a few days for the trial, Pete. Come back and see me in 10 days. If everything is Ok, I will take the stitches out then. Now remember what I told you about keeping it and the bandages clean. That will prevent it from getting infected. OK? Thanks again for your help, fellers."
I left the courthouse and returned to the cabin and my wives. Grandpa and the rest of the family had already left for home. I thought Standing Bear would be going back to the ranch to be with the other boys, but he was with his mothers when I returned. I advised new family to get ready to head out.
"Get ready to hit the trail. Good, Standing Bear, you'll be a big help with the stock. We need to head up to Deadwood. I have to check out the Oasis Saloon. One of their girls has a disease that she gave to one of my patients. While we're up there, I also want to let everyone know there's now a doctor in the area. And while I'm at it, I want to check if anyone around there is trying to stir up trouble with the Indians too."
It had been just coming daylight when I was rousted out to treat Pete's arrow wound. Although a lot had happened since then, it was still quite early. Seeing as we hadn't had breakfast yet, we decided to eat before we headed out.
We walked down to the same restaurant where we had supper the night before. When we entered, we discovered the same waiter as last night. This time when we ordered, he seemed slightly more cordial to me, but still acted pissed off that he had to serve Indians. As he grudgingly delivered our food, his surly attitude grated on me.
"Hey, bud! You don't seem to like us much, even though we've never met before last night. Just what is your problem?"
"We shouldn't have to serve any dirty stinking Indians in here. T'isn't right making white men eat with Indians. They should just wipe them all out."
"What makes you think that? This is their land! It was theirs long before the white man arrived. They hunted the buffalo here for hundreds of years until we came. After we stole most of their land, this part was given to the Sioux by treaty at Fort Laramie in 1868. Technically, all the white men in these parts are trespassing on Sioux land. They own it. Period."
"Those dirty Sioux don't need any stinking land! All they do is roam around! They don't build anything! They don't even bother picking up the gold, just roam around! When white men come here and try to build something for themselves or pan for gold, they go on the warpath and start killing everyone! It's not right! If all they want to do is follow the buffalo, they can do that anywhere. They don't need this land."
I'd about had enough. First it was the drunk yesterday, then this asshole, and now, here he was ranting at me again. I could see Standing Bear was getting agitated by the man's attitude, but he wisely held his tongue. Good Boy!
"I'll tell you this once more. This is their land. If they don't want you on it, then they have the right to drive you off, same as if you ran someone off your place back east. Now, I warned you yesterday, and I'll warn you again, but this is the last. If I ever hear you call one of my family a stinking Indian again, you better be able to back it up with more than your mouth."
The jerk carried on as if I hadn't said a word. This idiot did not hear or want to hear what I was saying. His bigoted mind was made up and don't confuse him with facts.
"Why don't you just go someplace else? We don't need your Injun lovin' kind around here stirring up trouble, siding with all those dirty Indians. Why don't you just take your squaws and leave town?"
"I have a home, a family, and a couple important jobs here. I'm afraid that I'm going to be around here a lot, whether you like it or not. This is my home. You and those like you are only here long enough to make a strike or go bust. You don't live here.
"My wives will be around here too. Get used to it! You will treat them with respect! If you don't, maybe you had better leave town. How dare you and your kind come in here and tell me to leave my home where I was born and raised because you don't like Indians!"
"It ain't right a man having more than one wife; and you got three! What are you, some kind of damn Mormon?"
"No, I'm not no Mormon! I just happen to have three wives, not that it's any business of yours."
I felt myself falling into the trap of a schoolyard argument — 'Is so!' — 'No it's not!' — 'Is too!' — ad infinitum, until it breaks down in name calling. At this rate, we'd be here all day. In the end, nothing would be changed. He'd still be a bigot. I'd still be pissed. Our food would get cold, and we'd be late leaving for Deadwood. Even Standing Bear was acting more mature! Time to wind it up.
"I still say it ain't right, you having three wives, when most around here don't even have one. There's not enough women in these parts to go around."
Sour grapes over too few women — that was the basis for almost all of his bigotry. I'd heard it yesterday, too, from the drunk.
"That's not my problem. This is Indian land by treaty! You have no right to anything without their permission, whether it's prospecting for gold, settling a ranch or taking up with their women! If you want a wife of your own, you should go find one. Don't be giving me any backtalk about mine."
"I don't want any squaw and end up with a bunch of half breed kids. It just isn't fair that there ain't no white women that will come around these parts."
"If you feel that way why do you stay? Still, I'm not surprised! If all the men around here are like you, no decent woman, no matter what race she is, would want to have anything to do with mean-spirited jerks like you."
Insults rolled off him like water off a duck's back.
"This is where the gold is. I mean to make my fortune and head back east before the snow flies."
"And you think you're going to do that by working in a restaurant?"
"I'm just doing this to give me a grub stake. Then I plan to go out and stake a claim."
"Well good luck on that. Most come back broke; but many die, too. Some try to stay out over the winter and end up freezing to death from the cold because they have no idea how to live out in the open.
"Then there is always trouble with the Indians. You and the other prospectors have got the Sioux stirred up. You come on their land uninvited, start tearing it up, killing off all the game and then you get mad at them because they try to protect what is theirs.
"If that ain't enough, then there's the outlaws that always seem to follow wherever there are prospectors and rob them for their poke. If you're going to go out, then you had better be prepared to be killed by either Indians or bandits."
I couldn't believe how naïve this fool was! He didn't have a clue! He was full of the greenhorn's bravado and braggadocio, but he had no better idea of how to survive in the goldfields than I did at understanding women!
"I'm not scared of either. They come around me, I'll blow their stinking heads off. I'm going out well armed, so they had best beware of me. I had two friends that went out last week and no one has seen or heard of them since. We suspect they might have been killed by Indians. That's why they passed along that Indians can't be served in any place here in town."
"Was one of your friends tall with brown hair and the other thin with sandy hair?"
"That sounds like them. Have you seen them anywhere?"
"I buried them. The Baxter brothers robbed and murdered them and then tried to make it look like it was done by Indians."
"How do you know it wasn't done by Indians?"
"After they robbed them, they shot them with arrows with Crow markings, not Sioux. They're under arrest at the courthouse right now. I just came from there. The men who searched their room found things that had belonged to all the missing miners and a bow with Crow arrows."
"Those dirty bastards! They should just hang them from the nearest tree!"
"I know those two dead men were friends of yours, but everyone needs a fair trial. Even if we did find enough evidence that the Baxters will most likely hang, it has to done legally. They won't be lynched."
"But we got no law here — just a US Marshal that covers all the way down to Fort Laramie and a circuit judge. They are both away more often than they're here."
I showed the waiter my badge.
"I'm the law here now, and there will be no lynching as long as I'm around. I will be on a regular patrol around the local area from now on. Judge Mitchell will be around a lot more too. He's in town now, and he will be staying at least until the Baxters have been tried.
"No matter how guilty they are, those men are entitled to a fair trial by a jury of their peers. If they're found guilty, then the sentence will be carried out legally. I find anybody trying to take the law into their own hands, they will be the ones that hang.
"Judge Mitchell and I represent the Law around here, and that Law says everyone is to be treated fairly. That includes the Indians. If you treat them fair, I'll leave you alone. If you don't, I'll run you out of town, and have the Law on my side. I'll say it again: be they white man or Indian, everyone is equal in the eyes of the law. Forget it at your peril."
"I thought you were the new doctor, not the marshal? Does that mean that you will be here all the time?"
"Not all the time. I will be traveling from town to town, but I will not be far away and should be back at least every other week, maybe sooner. Seeing as I'm the only doctor and lawman in this area, I will need to keep moving around."
My family had long since finished eating and were waiting for me. Strangely enough, I had managed to eat while I talked. I placed my fork on my empty plate and stood up. The waiter seemed a lot less antagonistic now. I guess all he needed was someone to vent his frustrations on.
"Now, since we're done eating, I need to get to Deadwood to check on some medical problems there. I should be back in a few days. You might want to put the word out to the rest of the miners that there better not be any thoughts of a lynching. Judge Mitchell will be looking for a jury, too."
My family and I left the restaurant and walked over to the stable where we had put up our horses. The livery people helped us saddle up. Standing Bear proved his worth. He did not need to be told to help. He just pitched in. Many hands make light work and soon we were ready to leave. We mounted up and started the long ride to Deadwood.
We made good time and arrived in the early afternoon. We stabled our horses and asked for directions to the general store. When we reached the store, I introduced myself and my family to the storekeeper.
"I am the new doctor in the area. I'm also a deputy US marshal. I'll be making rounds of all the local towns doing both. I'm most concerned that people get to know there's a doctor in these parts now. Is there any way that the word can be spread that I am a doctor and that I will be in the area every couple weeks?"
The storekeeper was more than happy to put the word out.
"Pretty nearly everyone in town and the local ranches is in here at least once a week. I'll tell everyone who comes in. Tell the man at the livery stable and between us, we'll soon spread the word around. It's good to have a doctor nearby again. I'll spread it around that you're a marshal, too. We've needed a regular lawman for a long time."
"Thanks, that'll help a lot. While I'm here, what do you have in the way for medical supplies? If I can get them from you, it cuts down on how much I have to carry with me, and lets me get more locally if I run out."
He did not have near as much on hand as the storekeeper in Hill City. He did carry all the usual supplies, though — grain alcohol, rolled bandages, and an assortment of patent medicines such as headache powders, salves and ointments.
"Do you have a room you can let me use or rent to me where I can see patients?"
"I'm sorry, Doc. I really don't have any extra rooms. You might try at the Grand Central Hotel. It just opened and they might have a room they'll rent as a doctor's office."
"That's OK. Do you mind if I leave my ladies and my boy here to browse around? Don't be afraid to put the boy to work. He's young, but he's a good worker.
Standing Bear's chest puffed out proudly when I said he was a good worker. Dawn fairly beamed when I praised her — uh, OUR son.
"I have to see someone at the Oasis Saloon on a medical matter, and I don't want to take them into a place like that. A saloon is no place for a young boy or gentle ladies. When I get back, we'll check out the hotel."
"No problem, Doc. They're welcome any time. I'll put the young lad to work if I need him." He ruffled Bear's hair playfully and handed him a stick of candy. He might not work Bear very hard, but I bet he'd spoil him...
I got directions to the saloon from the friendly storekeeper. Carrying my small medical bag and looking every inch the 19th century doctor, I walked down to the Oasis Saloon. I stepped up to the bar and spoke to the bartender.
"I'm looking for the owner. Is that you?"
The man's phony smile would have done a used car salesman proud.
"Yes, I am. What can I do for you? You're new here aren't you?"
"I'm the new doctor in the area. I treated a man down in Hill City for a social disease — the clap. He said the only one he had sexual contact with was one of your girls."
"It can't be one of my girls! My girls are all clean."
"I'm afraid I have to check them to make sure. We can't have them spreading disease throughout the territory."
"You can go check them out, but it's going to cost you two dollars each."
I showed him my badge then looked thoughtful.
"I wonder ... What would happen if the miners around here found out that all your girls were diseased?"
The man paled as his smile dissolved into a worried frown.
"Marshal it isn't right! I'm just trying to make a living. Ever since that damn Charlie Utter's wagon train brought Hickok, Calamity Jane, and those two whores Madam Dirty Em and Madam Mustachio, business has been terrible."
I told him. "I'm sorry to hear how bad business is, but I can't let somebody who's sick spread disease throughout the territory. I really do need to check your girls. I will show them how to check their customers so that this does not happen again. If one of your girls is sick like I figure, she will not be able to have customers again for at least 90 days. She won't be able to drink alcohol for 90 days either, because it will neutralize the medication. If that happens, it won't heal her affliction!"
"Ninety days! That's impossible! There is no way a working girl can afford to live in this town for 90 days without working!" he exclaimed.
"This place is pretty crowded. You can have her wait tables and hustle drinks. She just cannot have any sex, and she cannot take a drink herself. If I find out that she is still working and spreading this disease, I will have this place closed down and I'll also make sure the miners know why."
"Marshal that will cut way down on my profits! Isn't there some other way? I'm just barely making any profit as it is! There's got to be some other way. If you tell the miners they'll lynch me."
His whining about lost revenue didn't cut it with me.
"As crowded as this place is, I find it hard to believe that you're not making a decent profit. I happen to know that in the gold camps it's not the miners who make all the money. It's the storekeepers, saloons, and the whorehouses that make all the money, gouging it out of the miners with inflated prices and watered-down booze. Very few miners actually strike it rich, but anyone who opens a saloon or brothel does. So don't give me any bullshit about you starving and just barely getting by. I can see different."
Still acting as if I was taking the food right out of his mouth by treating his sick whore, he grudgingly led me upstairs. He pointed me into a room and returned to the bar. 'His girls' turned out to be just one woman who worked for him 'servicing' the miners.
She was a very plain woman. She looked to be in her late 40's or early 50's and was about 40 pounds overweight. How this woman ever made a living as a whore was beyond me. Then again, from some of the photos I had seen from this period, she wasn't all that unusual. The miners outnumbered women by hundreds to one. Like the sailor said, 'Any port in a storm... '
I told her. "Hello, my name is Clay Thomas. I am a doctor. I am here to examine you. It has been reported to me that you may have a sexual disease, and could be spreading it."
She seemed really scared by the news, and cried, "Doc I can't have a disease! I only came to work here because my husband died. I didn't have any money to take care of myself or feed my children. Around here a woman has no choice. You either turn to whoring, or you starve. If I have to quit, my children will die."
Despite her claim she was OK, she allowed me to examine her. Unfortunately, I discovered she did have gonorrhea. Although I was sure I'd find it, it still hurt to break the news to her, and I couldn't sugar coat it.
"You do indeed have the clap, but the good news is, I have a cure. It is rare, and I don't have a lot of it. To make sure it works properly and to make the best use of what little I have, you will have to follow my instructions exactly. I will give you this shot. It will cure the clap, but for it to work, you must abstain from sex for 90 days. You can't drink any alcohol at all for the next 90 days either.
"I can't emphasize this enough! If you do exactly as I say, you will be cured. If you have sex or drink alcohol before the 90 days is up, it will neutralize the medicine so it won't have any effect. And, if you keep having sex without it being cured, the disease will continue to spread."
The poor woman was distraught.
"But Doc, if I don't work, there's no money! What am I going to do to take care of myself and feed my children? I have to work!"
After I gave her the shot, I showed her how to check her customers for symptoms so she could avoid anyone who was obviously diseased. I also explained that she should insist her clients use French letters. But the best way to avoid the clap was to get out of the business by finding another job.
"I talked to the owner before I came to see you. He will continue having you work, but only waiting tables or hustling drinks until the cure is finished. You may not make as much as you do now, but there will be at least something coming in."
She looked panic-stricken and sobbed loudly.
"But I'm only making four dollars a day now! The prices around here, there's no way I can survive on any less!"
I was incensed! I knew the brothel owners took a huge portion of the girls' earnings, usually about 40 percent, but this poor woman was being exploited to the point of slavery! Even if she only had four clients a day, she should be making half as much again. I knew she probably serviced twice that many. She should be making a fairly decent living instead of just scraping by!
"I will talk to the owner to see about getting you more money. I'm sure I can convince him that it would be in his best interest to pay you more than what he does now!"
I left the unhappy woman and returned downstairs to confront the bartender.
"You tried to charge me two dollars just to see your girl without any sex. I'm sure you charge more than that for her regular services. Even if you do charge only two dollars, at those prices she'd be going steady all day. Yet you only pay her four dollars a day? You're robbing that girl! You need to pay her more for her work! You should pay her at least five dollars a day just for waiting tables and a commission on top of that if she hustles drinks for you, too! With these other places around here, when she's cured, she should be able to find good paying work easy! If you don't start paying her decently, I will see about shutting you down."
"I thought you came here as a doctor, not a marshal?"
"I did, but your attitude and your greed really sucks! You're making big money and so long as she continues to make you more, it doesn't matter to you that one of your employees is sick. Well, I have news for YOU! She got the clap from making money for you. Now that she's sick, it's your responsibility to make sure that she continues to have money to live on."
"Okay Doc. You made your point. I'll have her doing small things around her until she's well, and I'll make sure she's better paid."
"OK, I'll be watching. If you hear of anyone that needs me, I'll be over at the new hotel seeing if there's anyone else that needs my services. By the way, that will be $25 for the treatment of the girl upstairs."
"Twenty-five dollars! That's outrageous! I'm not the one that was sick!"
"No, but you're her employer. You're the one that made the money from her services, so you should pay for my services."
He griped the whole time he was counting out the bills, but pay me he did. The threat of shutting him down and exposing him to the miners for spreading the clap was real. If he stepped out of line even once, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Threatening his extortionate income was the only thing his type understood.
I left the Oasis Saloon and went back to the store to rejoin my family. When I met up with them, I asked if they were hungry. They said they were, although I was sure Bear was full of candy. After thanking the friendly storekeeper for all his help, and making sure Bear thanked him separately for the sweets we left for the hotel restaurant.
We reached the restaurant and found a table. Once we were seated, an older black lady greeted us with a huge, friendly smile and a cheerful voice.
"Howdy, folks! Welcome to the Grand Central! I'm the chief cook and bottle washer of this here restaurant. Most everyone calls me Aunt Lou. What can I get you?"
"Hello, Aunt Lou. We'll have the special. Let me introduce us. I'm Clay Thomas, and these three lovely ladies are my wives, Running Deer, Little Doe, and Dawn. The little guy over there is my main sidekick Standing Bear. I'm a new doctor in the area just starting my practice. I'll be making my rounds among the local towns, and I'll be spending a few days each month in each of them. Would you happen to know of a place where I could see patients when I'm here?"
Aunt Lou beamed. "Your wives are truly lovely, Doctor. And your son is a real gentleman! He'll be a fine man when he grows up. I'm sure. We really need a doctor in these parts. I think you could probably use one of the hotel's rooms. Ask at the front desk. They'll be able to help you out, I'm sure. And, I'll make sure to spread the word that we have a new doctor in town."
We finished the meal of flapjacks, bacon, and beans. Bear did himself proud — I don't know where such a small boy could pack so much food. I was surprised when I was told that it cost us one dollar each for that simple meal. Mind you, the biscuits, which Aunt Lou claimed were her own recipe, were probably the best I have ever eaten — anywhere or any time. That alone made the price worth it. Still, I could tell from the prices here that I was not charging nearly enough for my own services.
After we ate, I went out to the front desk and asked to speak with the owner. The desk clerk said that he was the owner. I offered my hand and introduced myself. I couldn't resist a little tease of Bear — he was trying so hard impress me, he looked as serious as a heart attack.
"I'm Clay Thomas, and these gentle ladies are my wives. The stern-looking individual there is my main man, Standing Bear. He's decided that today is not a smile day. I am a new doctor in the area. I'll be in town for a few days each month as I make my rounds of all the local towns to see patients. When I'm here in Deadwood, I'll need a place for my family and I to stay, and where I can also examine and treat patients. My wives will be acting as my nurses and office assistants. The lady in the restaurant said you might be able to help me out with a room here."
The man's smile was sincere and his greeting to my family friendly. When he shook my hand, his grip was firm.
"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Thomas; Ladies; Mr. Thomas Jr. I'm Charles Wagner, the owner of this fine establishment. We need a doctor in these parts. I hope we can be of assistance to you. We normally get $10 a night for our rooms, but seeing as you will be a steady customer, I can knock that down to five dollars a night, or $50 a month, whichever is better for you."
Mr. Wagner seemed like a reasonable type, so I tried a little dickering.
"I don't mean to insult you, but is that the best you can do? You do realize that some of my patients may need to rent a room for the night if it gets too late to return to their homes. There may be others that might be too sick or hurt to travel who will also need rooms. I don't think it is a great stretch to see that my seeing my patients here should be good for your business."
Mr. Wagner proved he was a good business man. He only took a few seconds to decide.
"I can see that, Doctor. Maybe I can go as low as three dollars a night or $30 a month."
"Well, seeing as I will probably only be here six or seven days a month I think I'll have to go with the three dollars a day for the first while. If things work out as good as I think they will, maybe later I'll be able to take it by the month. I'll just pay for tonight for now. We have to get back home to Hill City tomorrow, but we'll be back later this month, once I get my schedule set up."
I paid for one night. When we were finished with the paperwork, I enquired, "I'm going to be in town the rest of the day and probably part of tomorrow. I can see a few patients while I'm here. Is there anyway you could spread the word?"
"Sure, I can do that. I'll also tell Lou to let people in the restaurant know. She will make sure to spread the word."
I didn't have the heart to tell him Lou had already offered to spread the word to her customers.
I left my wives in the lobby, visiting with Mr. Wagner while Bear and I went back to the stables to retrieve my main medical kit. When we returned to the hotel, I went back by the front desk and picked up my key. Mr. Wagner directed us to our room, which I was pleased to discover was actually a corner suite of two rooms with its own outside entrance. I was so pleased with this room that I decided maybe I should take it on a permanent basis, as it would make a good medical office. Taking it on a monthly basis would ensure I got the same suite all the time.
When we entered the suite, we discovered a patient already waiting. As I observed him, I saw a man in his late 30s of medium height, wearing dark glasses. He sported a pair of Navy Colts tucked into a sash tied around his waist. He introduced himself, although I had already figured out who he most likely was.
"Hello doctor. I'm James Hickok, but most call me Wild Bill. I have something I need to talk to you about in private."
I looked at my wives, but they had already taken the hint and were in the process of disappearing into the other room, hustling Bear ahead of them.
When we were finally alone, I enquired, "Okay, Mr. Hickok, we're in private now. What can I do for you?"
"Doctor, what I have to say to you must be kept in the strictest confidence."
"That comes under the heading of patient-doctor confidentiality, Mr. Hickok. You have my word as a doctor and a gentleman that whatever you tell me will stay with me."
"Thank you, Doctor. That is very reassuring. It's my eyes — I seem to be losing my sight. If people, especially the wrong people, found out, I'd be a dead man! Now you understand why I am so concerned about confidentiality."
If I remembered my history right, Bill Hickok was going blind due to an untreated case of syphilis. I told him. "Yes, I do understand. Blindness can be caused by a lot of things. In order to determine what is causing yours, I need to give you a thorough examination. Let's start by getting some history."
"Alright. You're the doc. Ask your questions. I'll try to be as truthful as I can."
I started by asking Wild Bill about his health history, making notes of his answers. When I finished with the interview portion of the examination, I had him remove his clothing in order to perform the physical part of the examination.
After the physical exam, and from the answers to my questions, I was able to determine that the history books were right about the state of Wild Bill's health. It's always hard to be the bearer of bad news.
"I hate to tell you this Mr. Hickok, but you have syphilis, and it's in the final stages. It is causing the blindness and later may cause madness. There is no real cure for it at this time. I'm sorry, but there's not much I can do except to tell you to rest and relax. You should be especially careful with alcohol. If I could've gotten to you sooner I might have been able to treat it, but there's nothing that can be done at this late date."
"That's what the doctors down in Denver told me. I just needed to get a second opinion."
"I'm sorry that I'm the one that had to give you the bad news. If there's anything I can do, let me know. I should be here every few days once I get a schedule set up. I do need to ask you to do something though. Please make sure that everyone you know you had sexual contact with comes to see me. Syphilis is very contagious. We need to catch it before it spreads much farther."
Hickok looked relieved that I offered some palliative help at least.
"Thanks, Doc, if I need anything, I'll do that. As far as having any sexual contacts, I haven't had any since I was diagnosed a year ago. I was told before that there was no cure, but a person can never stop hoping. I just hoped that in the past year something might have changed and by now there might be something you could do to help. I found out that nothing has changed after all. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. How much do I owe you?"
"I'm not going to charge you anything because at this late date there's really nothing I can do for you."
"That's nonsense! Nothing in this world is free. Your time and your knowledge are worth something. Examining me as thoroughly as you did made much use of both today. You undervalue yourself if you don't charge for them. This is for the examination."
As he left my office, Wild Bill Hickok handed me two double eagles. I never saw him alive again.
I spent the rest of the day treating patients as they came into the office. There were no real emergencies, just simple burns, cuts, and bruises. My wives worked hard helping me with the treatments and collecting the patients' personal information for my files. I kept Bear busy running to the store for odds and ends I didn't have in my kit. For a first day, with no advance billing, we were quite busy. Word sure got around fast.
I think many people came in just to satisfy their curiosity. Regardless, it was still a profitable afternoon with almost $98 in receipts. All told, counting the $40 from Wild Bill, the $25 from the Oasis Saloon, the $98 from this afternoon's business, what was left of the $150 Grandpa gave me, my first months pay that Jack had paid me in advance, and the money I made in Hill City, we had just under $350. And that was after expenses — supplies for home, new cloths for my family, eating in restaurants and livery fees for the last two days. After the last patient left, I went to Mr. Wagner, the hotel owner.
"Sir, that corner suite was perfect for use as a doctor's office. With the two rooms we can have a private examination area and a waiting room. Because of that and the number of people who came in today, I've been forced to reconsider. I'll rent it monthly after all, if the offer is still open."
"Dr. Thomas, I thought you would like that suite. When we built the hotel, we designed that suite with a professional in mind. Yes, the offer is still open. If you like, I can arrange for our sign painter to make up something for over the outside door. Would you like to pay in advance or when you return?"
"Thanks, Mr. Wagner. I'll pay one month in advance for now. Thank you for looking after a sign for me. Please add it to next month's bill. And, thank you for the patient referral earlier. I don't think the gentleman would have known of me that quickly without your reference."
"You're welcome, Sir. I'm sure we'll have a long and mutually satisfactory association."
"Well, after a long day of toiling, I think I would be advised to allow the ladies to distract themselves with the local merchants. Thank you again. Good day, Mr. Wagner."
"Good day, Doctor."
Being a man of my word, I then escorted all three of my wives back to the general store to do a little shopping. I was going to treat them each to a new dress or something — whatever they wanted — for all their hard work today. Bear? Well Bear, he'd just get more sweets. No big deal. Yeah, right!
We never did buy anything, as they claimed they didn't need anything just yet, and poor Bear was informed in no uncertain terms he had had way more sweets already than was good for him. He must not spoil his supper. I think the storekeeper managed to slip him a small piece anyway. Both of them looked far too innocent when the ladies gave them the gimlet eye.
Still, the girls did seem to enjoy the shopping. Except for lapsing into Lakota as they discussed the merits of an item among themselves, they were indistinguishable from any other woman in any store anywhere. I guess in many ways some things never change, regardless of the time or period in history. Women have loved shopping since time immemorial. It is an immutable fact of life.
When they decided they'd had enough of oo-ing and ah-ing over fabrics, trinkets and gewgaws, we wandered back to the hotel restaurant for some supper. We ate a delicious meal prepared by Aunt Lou. Bear once again showed that he was truly mystical, as he seemed to be able to contain more food than his small body should reasonably hold.
After supper, we strolled around town for a while, marveling at all the construction. Deadwood was like a mushroom, almost popping into existence where a very short time ago there was only a canyon lined with dead trees.
When it stated to get late we returned to the hotel. Deadwood was still a rip-roaring mining town, and for ladies or children to be on the streets after dark was to invite trouble. I had already decided we would return to the ranch the next afternoon after seeing patients in the morning. That meant an early and long day ahead of us. We needed our rest.
We returned to our rooms at the Grand Central and locked ourselves in. We bedded Bear down on the settee in the front room. It may sound trite, but he was a tired little 'teddy bear' and was almost instantly asleep when his head touched the pillow. After he was tucked in, we moved to the main bedroom and pushed the two beds together. We ended an eventful and productive day with a little cuddling, some tender lovemaking and finally sleep.