Chapter 13

Even if every hotel gave me the same type of excellent discount Mr. Wagner had here, just the rent would exceed what I made as a deputy marshal, leaving me and mine prey to the vagaries of the medical profession. With the added expense of eating in restaurants the cost of doing business quickly becomes prohibitive. I would have to come up with something more economical.

If I could manage to use my camper as a mobile clinic, and traveling home, I’d save a lot of money. With its modern bunks it would be more comfortable than these rooms. The formica and metal surfaces were a lot cleaner and easier to keep that way. All I had to do was figure out a way to use the thing without it drawing a whole lot of attention.

My bladder did its usual morning insistence that I rise and drain it. Thus, I got up and went out back to the privy to attend to my morning ritual. When I returned from communing with nature, I found my wives were up and dressed.

Standing Bear, that walking appetite I loosely but still proudly called a son, declared they were all ready to go eat. I suspect he said that to divert attention from himself… 

I washed my hands and face from my trip to the facilities in the basin provided by the hotel. Then my family and I moved from our rooms into the dining room. I ordered breakfast of bacon, biscuits, and rice for all of us. The biscuits were Aunt Lou’s special, and I have no idea who consumed the most, Bear or me. I figured those biscuits should be required to be licensed – they were so good they were addictive.

As we ate, I told the girls, “I will see patients until about noon. Then we’ll head back to the ranch. We have a lot to do back there."

            When I had to pay out $10 for our breakfast, I was even more convinced to figure out a way to use my camper. I had already decided that using it would save us a lot of money for a place to sleep and receive patients. The price of restaurant food drove home to me just how much additional savings could be had if we cooked our own meals. But, not only would we be saving a lot of money on accommodation and food, we would have the added convenience of being able to stay where ever we might stop – no rushing to get to town – no worrying if they had room, etc.

            When we left the restaurant, I took my family back to the general store. I gave them some money to do some shopping and reminded them we would be returning to the ranch that afternoon. I also told them they should buy whatever we would need to set up housekeeping. They should also pick up whatever they felt might help Red Cloud’s people in relocating their camp to the ranch. Then I left them busy in the store and went back to the office to receive today’s patients.

When I arrived, I found a dapper little man waiting. He reminded me of some kind of dude dressed up to play cowboy. This gentleman wore a spotless suit of buckskin with two nickel plated revolvers belted about his waist. His head was adorned with a huge hat. In my time we would've called such a fancy dresser a ‘goat roper’.

This apparition introduced himself as Charlie Utter, the man who led the wagon train that brought Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane to Deadwood. As I talked with him, I determined that Charlie was not a ‘dude’, but likely suffered from obsessive compulsive disorder. He was deathly afraid of getting sick by being dirty or being touched. He said he bathed at least twice a day, but was still afraid of sickness. His excessively neat and meticulous appearance was just another symptom of his condition.

            Charlie was aware his obsession and subsequent compulsions were not ‘normal’, but that still didn’t help him with his anxiety. More than any other in this time period, I realized that despite his irrational fear of dirt and disease, his compulsion for cleanliness could very well save his life. Therefore, I was careful in how I addressed his fears.

“Charlie, I know you’re concerned that your fears are irrational, and to an extent they are, but I also know that keeping clean is still the best way to avoid disease. There’s nothing I can do at this time to help with your anxiety. However at the same time, I think that while your behavior may seem odd or crazy to others, as long as you can continue to function more-or-less normally, it is still a safe practice. Therefore, I suggest you continue what you have been doing – stay clean and avoid contact with sick people."

            Charlie looked relieved when I finished my little speech. He appeared to be about to say something more, then abruptly changed the subject. "Do you have time to look at something? I think you may be interested in what I have to show you."

            Just the way he said it, and from his slight smile, I was intrigued. I knew from history that Charlie Utter was an honest man. After all, he had been Bill Hickok’s best friend. I had no fear of him leading me into an ambush or the like, so I figured he must be offering me some sort of business proposition.

            There were no other patients waiting, and no one had appeared and left while I talked with Mr. Utter. I told him it looked OK, but I should check. I excused myself and went out to the lobby where I checked with the desk clerk. He had not had any enquiries today either. I advised him then that I would be leaving and had no idea when I would return. I returned to the office.

            “I am at your disposal, Mr. Utter. Lead on.”

            The dapper gent then led me to where his wagon train was camped, about a mile north of town. He pointed out a couple of wooden wagons.

"These belonged to a snake oil salesman who got caught messing with another man's woman. He did not survive the encounter. Because they were part of my train, and still owed trail fees, I seized them against the debt. Would you be interested in them? I’m selling the whole rig."

Would I? Even from this distance, if they were even close to what I thought they might be, they could answer my dilemma about using my camper. It almost seemed as if there was some Force guiding me at every step so I could make a difference in this timeline. I tried to conceal my excitement – for the sake of negotiation, I should try not to look overly interested.

 “Hmmm… if they can be suitably modified, they might fit into an idea I have been kicking around. Mind if I take a look at them?”

“Be my guest! You won’t know if they are suitable unless you check them out. Here, I’ll give you the tour.”

As we approached them, I examined the two wagons more closely. They appeared to be set up like gypsy caravans. As we stepped up into the first one, Charlie pointed out that it was set up like a doctor’s office. There was a lot of medical equipment. Although crude compared to my time it was the top of the line for now. There was even a small laboratory set up at the front. Too bad the previous owner had been such a cad and charlatan – he had some good ideas.

After poking around in the medical van, we moved over to the second wagon. It was set up as living quarters. It also was quite fancy for the times, but like the first one, was in serious need of a good cleaning. Dust covered everything. It was obvious that neither caravan had been looked after.

“They’re pretty dusty. They’ll need a thorough cleaning.” I observed.

            “Yes, well a few weeks on the trail will do that, Doc, if there’s no one to keep them clean. Normally we would have left them behind and just taken the stock, but they looked like they might have some value. The drivers were paid up and agreed to stay on because they had already promised to get them here, but that was all they did. As soon as we got here though, they lit a shuck for the gold fields.”

Charlie Utter looked to be taking exception to my observation, given his obsession with personal cleanliness. Before he could take umbrage, I explained my position.

            “I understand, Charlie. I wasn’t saying anything about you or your people as housekeepers. I was just making an observation from a professional viewpoint. You know, of course that even if they were clean enough to satisfy either you or me, my womenfolk would still want to clean them.”

            I must have said the right thing to ease the tension because Charlie smiled and commented, “Of course, Doc! Women can be a holy terror when it comes to cleaning! I remember my Ma… well, let’s not go there, and just say I probably come by it honestly…”

            I waved my arm toward the two vans. “You don’t know the half of it, Charlie, until you have three wives. But, like you said, let’s not go there. Anyway, yes, I’m very interested in them, but I don’t have the tack or the stock to move them.”

            “Oh! They come with eight strong mules and tack. When I said ‘the whole rig’ that’s what I meant – the whole kit and caboodle – tack, stock, the works. I thought you would understand that. I was wondering when you were going to ask to see the stock.”

            I had to cover my ignorance of the way a package deal was described in this time. If he’d said ‘kit-and-caboodle’ I might have understood, but I missed on ‘the whole rig’. Sometimes I could be so dense! I should have known that in this time, wagons and stock from wagon trains, when sold, were usually disposed of as a unit. I grew up on those stories…

“Charlie, I might have grown up on a ranch, but I was never directly involved in any of the horse trading before I went off to medical school. Then I went straight into the army. I certainly never dealt with wagon masters selling off surplus equipment, either. Please forgive my ignorance. Now, we’ve established just what the package includes and that I’m interested. How much do you want for ‘the whole rig’?”

In the tradition of all good salesmen and horse traders, Charlie Utter went into his spiel and started the bargaining/haggling dance.

“Well… let’s see… I have the outstanding trail fees, the feed charges here for the mules and… a man should make a bit too, don’t you think? I gotta have $250 for the whole lot.”

 I thought about it for a minute but realized that $250 would make a serious dent in my reserves. I also had no idea how big a bill the girls were running up at the store. That storekeeper was quickly becoming a friend who wouldn’t gouge us, but this was a boom town after all, with the prices to match. If I paid Utter’s asking price, I would have just under $100 left – not much of a grub stake.

I made my opening counter offer. “$150 for the lot.”

He thought for a while, hemmed and hawed, then declared, "Let's split the difference. Final offer. $200."

I couldn’t explain why he was doing it, but I sensed that Charlie was giving in far too easily, and that I really was getting one hell of a deal. I can be very dense at times, but even I knew that at this time and in this place, eight strong mules were probably very valuable. I remembered reading somewhere that the price of mules was relatively steady at between $100 and $125 each all through the last quarter of the nineteenth century. You do the math for the animals alone – no rolling stock and no tack.

Regardless, Charlie must also salvage his pride and make it look like he bartered well. Whereupon, in the spirit of the game, I did my own requisite hemming and hawing. At length, trying to sound defeated instead of elated (and a little confused at his generosity), I groaned, “OK, Charlie, you’re killing me here, but it’s a deal. $200 for wagons, mules and tack.”

Mr. Utter said, “Done!”

We shook hands and I counted out $200 in cash to him. No paperwork. No lawyers. Just a handshake and our word to each other. After the legal shenanigans I left behind, man! Did that ever feel good!

I was quite convinced that not only did I get the best of the deal, but that Mr. Utter had manipulated it so. However, he did it in such a way it made him look like a businessman. From the grin that threatened to wrap all the way around his head, I suspected that I was right in my assumption, and for whatever reason, Charlie Utter indeed thought he had made out the best.

No matter, the deal was made and I had other, more pressing, things to consider. Among them, I would have to make arrangements to pick them up or have them stored at the stable.

            With the deal closed by a handshake and the money paid, I thought it was safe to enquire, “Charlie, don’t get me wrong. I think this is going to work out really well for me. Still, you seemed to be in a bit of a rush to sell this rig. How come?” 

            “I had thought I might keep the living quarters for myself, but I thought the other members of the train might think I was trying to take unfair advantage, so I decided to sell them quickly for whatever I could get. Then I discovered there was a doctor in town that planned on making regular rounds through the local area. I thought you might be able to make good use of them.

“That snake oil feller was a shyster, but he had the right idea with his equipment. I figured you might be able to make better use of his idea, so I approached you. I liked your professional manner and felt that you really care about your patients. I decided I was right to sell them to you if we could make a deal that didn’t break you  completely and didn’t make me look a total fool as a business man.”

“I thought I got a better deal than I should have. But I’m not one to look a gift horse – or mule – in the mouth. Thank you, Charlie. You’re a good man.”

Charlie laughed. “You might not think you got off light when you hear the rest of why I did it. You realize I also expect to be able to come to see you for any doctoring I might need, don’t you?"

            “Of course, Charlie! Sounds fair to me, but I would have done it anyway for a friend. I hope you can stay in good health for a few more days though. It’ll be that long before I get back this way. Oh, I don’t suppose I can ask your help to get them over to the stable?”

            “Glad to help a new friend.”

            Charlie had a couple of his teamsters help me hitch up two teams to the wagons. The extras were fitted with their tack for easy carrying then two were secured to the back of each wagon by their lead ropes as spares. It was highly unlikely we would have to change them out, but if we did, we were ready.

I wasn’t familiar with mules, so the men spent a few minutes showing me the differences, which were relatively minor, between driving mules and horses. I learned straightaway that mules are a LOT smarter, stronger and more durable than horses. They were the perfect dray animal for what I had in mind.

            When all was ready, Charlie himself tied his personal mount to the back, then mounted the driver’s seat of the living-quarters wagon and followed me as I drove the medical van, to the stable. When we arrived at the stable, Charlie and I parted company with a warm handshake. Like his ‘pard’ Bill Hickok, I thought I had made a real friend.

            After saying goodbye to Charlie, I asked the stable master to inspect the wagons and mules. I wanted to make sure that the wheels were sound and that the animals were properly shod. I didn’t want any breakdowns or animals fetching up lame, even on the relatively short trip home.

I left him with instructions to repair any deficiencies he found, but to keep a list as I would be checking before I paid the bill. I told him I wanted all the repairs done today if possible, but I might not be leaving before tomorrow because I needed to arrange for another driver. I appreciated the man’s integrity when he observed that both doors on each wagon were equipped with a hasp that could and in this town, should be locked.

Thinking he gave good advice, I diverted to the general store to get my family and buy four padlocks to secure the doors. When they heard what I had acquired, and why, the ladies became very excited and wanted to see the wagons straightaway. So much for finding a driver today…

            When we returned to the stable, the livery man hadn’t removed the tack from the mules yet. But, he had finished his inspection. I was pleasantly surprised when he said that both wagons were in excellent condition but we should replace all the shoes on all the mules at five dollars each. They were tight, but worn out from the long trail they just came off. I told him to go ahead. While a very interested Bear watched the smith get started, I showed the girls the wagons.

My wives climbed over and through everything, inspecting the whole set up closely. They thought after a thorough cleaning and a “few small changes” (sic) it would indeed make a very nice home and office for when we were away from the ranch. As the girls finished their inspection and praised me for a wise decision with toe-curling kisses, I lamented the fact we either needed to leave a wagon behind and come for it tomorrow, or hire a driver. The ladies looked at me like a slow child. Dawn became their spokesman.

“We can drive a team. You just need to show us how mules are different.”

“You sure? If you are, I’ll hitch up one of the wagons. You can show me what you know and I can show you how mules are a little different.”

They assured me they could, so I hitched a team to the living-quarters wagon. I showed them all the slight differences between mules and horse teams, and emphasized how smart a mule really was. I also told them if a mule displayed the stubbornness they were infamous for, they had better look around. A mule was usually only stubborn when it sensed danger.

We spent an hour or so in the livery yard driving around, getting the girls used to the mules. Periodically, as the smith finished shoeing a team, we would them switch out. By the time we were finished, the girls had driven all four teams and all four were freshly shod.

Dawn had no trouble handling the team once I showed her how. Running Deer and Little Doe were just too small to drive a team by themselves and Deer was handicapped by her broken arm, but working as a team themselves they could handle it just fine.

Of course Standing Bear wanted to give it a try too. However, being even smaller than the girls, he just wasn’t strong enough to handle the big team. The poor kid was very let down that he couldn't drive so I told him I had a much more important job for him. He would be my hostler. His job would be to help me take care of the animals by feeding, watering, and brushing them down. He would also help with the hitching and unhitching. When we were on the road, he would ride his horse and lead the string of spare mules and extra riding horses. We had acquired quite a ramada.

The girls had proved their competence as teamsters and Standing Bear was set up to handle the spares. I was satisfied we could get home OK, and that we would also be able to make our rounds. That meant I wouldn’t have the additional expense of hiring a driver. Even better… Things were coming together. We were ready to head home.

I paid the livery man the $40 for his work plus our livery bill since yesterday for the horses. I thanked him for his excellent treatment of all our stock. He helped us saddle our mounts while Dawn and I hitched a team to the medical van. Bear mounted up and took control of the string he was to lead. We got moving.

Our way out of town took us past the general store. We stopped and the storekeeper helped us load the ladies’ purchases. There were some larger items that would not fit in the vans. I told the storekeeper I would be back as soon as possible to pick up the rest of our load.

With as much as we could carry, we took our leave of our new friend. The ladies all gave him a hug and Bear solemnly shook his hand. The storekeeper affectionately tousled Bears hair one last time and handed him a bag of hard candy. A final check on the tack, and we mounted up for the journey home. Because our day had started early, it was still relatively early in the day when we got away.

As we rode out, I heard the storekeeper call out to Bear. “Make sure you share that with your cousins!”

            The journey back to the ranch was uneventful. The wagons and teams performed flawlessly. Of course, the mules had many miles on them, having pulled their loads all the way from Georgetown, Colorado as part of Charlie Utter’s famous wagon train to Deadwood. With those long-legged critters stepping out, we made excellent time and arrived home well before three that afternoon.

When we got settled in, I looked around but couldn't find Grandpa anywhere. I finally found Don.

“Do you know where Uncle Henry is?”

            “I think he's in the East pasture where Red Cloud is setting up his camp.”

            Don and Dawn took charge of a couple ranch hands and got them unhitching the mules which they then turned out in a paddock by the main barn. While they did that, I headed over to the East pasture to look for Grandpa.

I found him sitting on his horse, smiling and laughing merrily as he watched a bunch of kids play. We greeted each other warmly.

“What’s got you all happy and smiling?”

He just pointed and said, “Look at that bunch of wild Indians over there.”

I took a closer look at the playing kids. Brad, Davy, and Little Jake were all playing and roughhousing with about a dozen other children. They looked to be having a wonderful time, free spirits like all kids.

            I called over to them. It took two or three tries before they finally heard me and stopped to listen.

“Hey, you fellers! We’re home now! Standing Bear is at the cabin! Why don’t you all run on over there and fetch him! He’s worked real hard today! I betcha he’d just love to be playing here with his friends!”

Our bunch said something to the other kids. They must have gotten agreement on something because the three of them let out a wild yell and jumped on their ponies which had been picketed nearby. Whooping and hollering, off they tore, racing to see who could get there first.

Grandpa slapped his hat on his knee in delight and let out a happy little yip himself as he watched the antics of those young boys. His happy grin looked like it was about to wrap all the way around his head. He had told me before how much he enjoyed having a large group of children around. I had taken it almost as a joke then. Not now! Here was visual proof – this was a man who really, unequivocally, loved and enjoyed kids.

            As the lads roared away hooting, in a cloud of dust, I asked him how the move was coming.

Grandpa shrugged. “It’s pretty much done, now. There’s still a few problems, but it’s coming. Don and the boys dug all those privies for them but they’re not used to them. It’s been a bit of a struggle to teach and convince them to use the outhouses instead of going off into the woods. Still, I think everyone is settling in OK. It gets better every day. Red Cloud seems to have a handle on everything so it’s been going pretty smooth.”

            Grandpa continued to bring me up to date on the happenings around the ranch. I told him about our trip to Deadwood and the friends we had made there. I finished my tale by telling him about the new wagons.

            “Grandpa, these are going to work out fantastically. There’s no way we need a two-team hitch on those wagons, so we ended up with two extra teams of big strong Missouri mules. With a single team on each one, the girls can drive them with no problem. The roads and trails around here ain’t bad enough to need any more, ‘cept maybe in the spring mud.

            “So that went fine, but the girls bought more than we could carry in them vans. I have to go back tomorrow to get it.”

            Grandpa shrugged. “Why don’t we take our wagon and go now? Today’s already shot, so let’s do it and save you a trip tomorrow. If we were to leave right now, we should be able to make it back before dark, easy. We should be able to make a round-trip in about four and a half hours as long as we don’t have any problems.”

            “OK, let’s go. I saw your team was already harnessed when I left the house. I hope they still are. I’ll hafta let the women folk know what’s going on, too.”

“They should be. We usually keep a team ready to go.”  

            We turned our mounts and galloped up to the barn. Dawn and Don were still grooming the new mules. Grandpa’s team was still harnessed. As we hitched them to the ranch wagon, we explained that we were on our way back to Deadwood to pick up the stuff we hadn’t been able to bring. We should be back in a few hours.

We threw our saddle bags in the wagon and left, setting the team into an easy, mile-eating trot. With an empty wagon and the good road, we reckoned we could make the 12 miles to Deadwood in just over two hours.

            We made even better time than we thought, and the horses didn’t seem particularly tired, either. When we reached Deadwood, we went directly to the general store where I introduced Grandpa to my friend the storekeeper. We loaded the goods we had left behind earlier, then checked what else we might need for the new wagons.

We bought several new kerosene lanterns, a small cot for the medical wagon and two new mattresses for the living-quarters wagon. We also bought various sundries to make living under the stars that much easier

As I looked over stuff we had already bought, wondering what else we needed, I started to think. Many of the things in my wrecked camper would fit in the vans quite easily. My camper really wasn't in that bad a shape. But… the right side where it met the tree was pretty well smashed up. I decided to think of a way to use the sink, icebox, stove, oven, and various other things in the living-quarters wagon. I would make it into the kind of mobile home in which I could make a circuit of all the small towns the area in comfort.

            Grandpa interrupted my reverie by suggesting, “You should maybe get some paint, too. You don’t want people thinking you’re just another snake oil salesman.”

When he mentioned it, I realized they were quite bright – painted to look like a traveling road show.

Grandpa laughed. “They’re so bright they could be mistaken for a mobile cathouse.”

            Shaking my head at the image Grandpa’s remark conjured up, I went back into the store to see what kind of paint he had. The selection wasn't too good. Well, what did I expect – ‘Color Your World’? I found 3 gallons of white, 1 gallon of yellow and a gallon of dark green.

I thought, “If I mix the white and yellow together, it should turn out a very light yellow… Use that for the bodies. Then paint the trim dark green… and they should look pretty good… Hmmm… Not a bad idea.”

With that, I bought the paint. We loaded everything. We said another goodbye to my friend the storekeeper who sent another small bag of candy for Bear and the other boys, and headed back to the ranch.

            While the load we had wasn’t very heavy, it did slow the team down a bit. Still, we made it back to the ranch about an hour before dark, taking about two and a half hours to travel the 12 miles back. By being on the road, we figured we’d miss supper, but we each carried trail food in our saddle bags, so we didn’t go hungry. That’s why we brought them with us.

The women had waited for us to return, and when we did, they were all for getting started, cleaning and painting the wagons right then. However, it was too late in the day to start what I knew would be a big job. Besides, I wanted to wait until bright daylight so we could see what was really there. Then we could determine what we could pitch and what we could use. 

            The women wouldn’t hear of it that we ate on the trail. Determined they were going to do something tonight, they went into the cabin to start making supper. While they did that, Grandpa and I went to check with Red Cloud to see if he needed anything or any help setting up the new camp.

            When we arrived at the East pasture, we found that most people were pretty much done. Red Cloud was sitting with several other Elders. Grandpa asked if everything was almost done and if they needed anything. They said everything was under control and had everything they needed for now.

I asked Red Cloud about the three wounded men and if I could check them.

            Red Cloud replied. “All three men left with Crazy Horse to let soldiers chase them. We thought only two would go, but Young Dog, the brave with the saber wound, him followed after them.”

            I couldn’t believe the stupidity of such an act. “But… he was hurt too badly to go with Crazy Horse! Riding will tear the stitches and open the wound! He’ll either bleed to death or it will become infected. He could die or lose the leg!"

            Red Cloud agreed, “He is stupid. We told him not to go – to stay at camp and rest. If he dies, it is not your fault. You did what you could.”

            I just shook my head and kept quiet, biting my tongue. Red Cloud could see I was upset so to help change the subject he asked, “How are wives? Is everything okay? Are Dawn and Standing Bear helping them and the rest of the family?”

            “Everyone is good. I am going to take Dawn as a wife and Standing Bear as my son. We all want it, so it will work out OK.”

            “Is a good thing you do, Two Lives. Dawn is a good woman and Standing Bear will be a strong brave when he is older.” 

            “He is a good boy now. I am very proud of him. Are there any problems with the People, now that I have three wives of the People?”

            “No, you are family and friend to the people. There will be no problems. Some of the young Braves, they resent that you are white. But since you are Hawk's family, you are of the people also." Red Cloud reassured.

            With the family and small talk out of the way, I felt it was time to put my cards on the table. “If anyone is sick or hurt send for me. I will either be at the ranch or in one of the towns nearby. I’ll always be close enough they can send for me.

“If there is trouble with the white eyes, have someone send a message for me as quick as you can. I will come as fast as I can and see what I can do to stop it. But please… don't try to fight the white eyes alone. It will just hurt what we are trying to do and cause more trouble than we are already trying to avoid.”

I showed him my badge. “I am now the law around here. Because of that, I can help stop many problems that might come up. However, if you pick a fight with the white eyes, the government will send in the army and there is nothing I can do to stop that.”

            “We will try it your way Two Lives. However, if they attack, we will fight back. We will try it your way as long as we can and not start something first.” Red Cloud said.

            “Thank you, Red Cloud. I can ask no more than that. Now, it’s been a long day for me. My wives were getting a meal ready when we left. It should be about ready now, so I think we should head back now. C’mon, Uncle Henry! Supper and bed are waiting for us.”

Grandpa finished up his conversation with the other Elders. We said our good nights, mounted up and headed back to the ranch. A ranch hand was waiting to take our horses. We dismounted and went for supper. The girls had a lovely meal ready.

Grandma Dove was there, too. “You boys timed that just about right. Set you down. The food is just on the table.”

The day was finally catching up to me. I hardly had enough energy to eat, and I don’t think I did their excellent cooking any justice that night. I almost fell asleep in my pie. The women took pity and bundled me off to bed. The last thing I remembered was the feeling the soft warm feminine curves snuggling up to me.

The next morning, I awoke later than usual to find myself alone in bed. An overfull bladder sent me dashing for the privy. When I returned to the house from performing my morning duties, I found my wives and the rest of the ladies of my family standing on the porch waiting impatiently for me. They demanded the keys to the wagons, so they could start cleaning them.

            I don’t do well in the mornings without coffee. That may be why I was a little short with them. “Couldn’t this have waited a few more minutes until I’ve had a chance to get some coffee and maybe a little solid food into me? You ladies can just damn well wait to clean those wagons! There’s a whole lot of changes and modifications I want to do to them first!”

            My ladies looked a little chagrined. Little Doe apologized, “We’re sorry, Clay. Your breakfast is in the warmer waiting for you, and there is a fresh pot of coffee on the stove.”

            Coffee! I started for the kitchen. Rose, the spokesman as usual, spoke up. “Sorry to keep you from your breakfast, Clay. But by letting you sleep late, we’re losing time we could be putting to good use cleaning those wagons.”

I started to remind her about my plans for those units. She waved me off. “You always were a grump in the morning, even when we were kids. We understand you may want to make changes. However, there are linens, glassware, dishes, silverware, bedding and other things that still need to be washed if they are ever to be used. And, all that stuff has to be moved out before you can do what you want! You need to be able to see how they’re put together so you can plan whatever changes you want to make. So give us the keys, Buster.”

            There was no way I would win this one. I don’t know why I balked in the first place. Put it down to being a morning grump like Rose said. Rose’s argument was absolutely correct. All the stuff she listed would just be in the way of what I wanted to do, and risked being damaged if left in place while I did it.

“I guess you’re right.” I grumped and gave up the keys.

            Needing coffee even more, I headed in for breakfast. Dawn got my plate out of the warmer and poured me a coffee. I think I inhaled that first cup. Assured I was OK on my own now, she and my other wives hurried after the others as they traipsed over to the wagons.

As I leisurely ate a delicious breakfast and sipped my second coffee, I watched them out the window. Those women swarmed over both wagons like ants on an anthill. Grandpa wandered in just as I finished eating. He joined me for coffee and to watch the ladies.

It soon became apparent that they were totally emptying the wagons. I had no idea these wagons could or would have that much stuff in them. Before long, the ladies had a small mountain of goods stacked in the yard. When I looked closer, all that seemed to be left of the Gypsy Caravan style wagons was just bare shell.

            Grandpa and I watched in amazement as the women went about their task with military precision. When everything had been removed from the caravans, the ladies turned on the boys who had been watching the whole operation and ordered them to help carry everything into my cabin so they could start cleaning it.

            With the ladies busy inside, I had Grandpa follow me to the shed where my truck was hidden. I inspected the damage to my camper and discovered the side above the door, where the top bunk was, had been hit by the tree. It was caved in about 3 feet wide and about 2 feet deep.

            Grandpa remarked, “This thing’s pretty beat up.”

I replied, “I had been thinking about trying to fix it up and somehow use it as a mobile clinic, but now I have those wagons. They can be made into much more comfortable living quarters and office if we can use some of the things from here. It’ll be a whole lot easier, too.”

Grandpa was interested in what I thought we could use. “Show me what’s in this thing you think will work in the wagons.”

So I showed him. There was a small two-sided sink with a pump style faucet and a three-burner camp stove, both set into a formica counter top. Built in under that was a 15 gallon water tank that was pressurized by the faucet, an oven and an icebox. The whole setup could easily be installed in the caravan.

The stove and oven burned white gas. I had a full five gallon can of fuel, but that wouldn’t last very long. When that was gone, I thought I might be able to use diesel or kerosene as fuel if I couldn’t get more white gas locally. I knew white gas or ‘naptha’ was available at this time, but I wasn’t sure just how available. I’d have to check with the general store.

If I couldn’t get naptha, then modifying the stove and oven burners to use kerosene, the common fuel for lamps, was the best alternative. The truck had twin 50 gallon fuel tanks that were about three quarters full of diesel at the time of the crash, but it was a lot harder and dirtier to use than kerosene.

Once I finished setting up the wagons, I thought there might be a way to use some of the other parts of the truck to our advantage since it would probably never be made to run again.

            Grandpa was suitably impressed. We started emptying out the camper. When everything we thought was usable was out, we would try to figure out what all we could actually use. After we had been at it for several hours, I found we had salvaged many things that could make our lives much more comfortable.

            Once we got everything unloaded we took my toolbox and moved on to the caravans to measure and survey what we had to work with. These wagons were 12 foot long with a six-foot wide wheelbase. They looked like they might have originally been prairie schooner wagons, but the overall construction was too light. They may have been based on the ubiquitous conestoga, but upon inspection, revealed themselves to be purpose-built – the American version of a showman’s wagon or a gypsy caravan.

The roof was a hard top with a slight peak in the center to shed rain. The sides were built out to six-foot wide, covering the tops of the wheels. One wall was solid. The other had two small windows quite high up. Both were about seven feet high, with extra headroom provided by the open ceiling. The lower part of the box, between the wheels, was 4 foot wide, the same as my pickup. The back was closed in with a large Dutch door. The steps to the back door were removable. There was a storage box mounted between and behind the rear wheels. The wheels were sturdy and tall, good for rough roads and fording creeks. The rear wheels were somewhat larger than the front.

The front had what could only be described as a covered porch. There were two well padded seats to either side of the door. Either position could be used as a driver’s seat, as both boasted a foot pedal for the mechanical wheel-chock brakes. There was also a Dutch door at this end. The removable steps would be stored on the floor just inside the door. In use, they mounted to the side of the wagon tongue after the team was unhitched.

Inside, there were shelves and cupboards everywhere, maximizing the internal storage. The designers and builders of these wagons gave away nothing to the camper builders of my time. As a matter of fact, from a couple things I noted, they could have taught some things to their twenty-first century counterparts. It would take a very small modification to fit in the ‘modern’ kitchen fixtures. The builders may even have been marine builders, from the use of every available nook and cranny like in a sailing yacht, to the thoughtful way shelves and drawers were padded and protected against spillage and breakage.

Both units had a small wood stove with a cook top on the solid wall at the mid point with a chimney directly through the roof. The exposure to the wall at the back of the stove was protected by some brickwork that only went as high as the stove. I thought this was a good place to use some flat sheet metal from the camper to install a proper heat shield all the way to the ceiling. The aluminum of the camper shell would be relatively easy to work with.

While similar on the outside, the two were laid out differently inside. The similarities in efficient use of space and heating were there, but one could determine their relative usage quite easily.

What I referred to as the medical van was set up more like an office or store. There were open shelves obviously meant to display one’s wares, but also made them handier. Work benches and a built-in desk replaced beds. It would require the least alteration, as it was already set up more-or-less like a doctor’s consulting room of the time. All it lacked was an examination table or bed. The cot Grandpa and I bought yesterday could be adapted quite nicely.

The biggest changes would be made to the ‘living-quarters’ van. One of the major variances I noted from what I remembered of true Gypsy caravans was the doors in both ends. I could understand the design for the office van. It allowed clients to walk through or for quick business stops with the team still hitched – ideal for a traveling salesman but impractical for a living unit, except a single person. A couple would need the full width of the unit somewhere for their bed. The back end was the logical place.

My planning, therefore, started there. Remove the existing bunks, which were located at the rear, thank goodness, and build a king-size bed across the whole end. I would permanently close the Dutch door by securing it from the inside. It would still be useful as an emergency escape, but would no longer be used as an entrance. The top half provided fresh air and a window.

As we measured, examined and planned, Grandpa and I discussed what changes would be most beneficial. We figured out the most efficient use of my ‘high tech’ camping gear without exposing its origins. For instance, I wanted to use the high density foam mattresses from my camper. Grandpa suggested it was OK, but they should be sewn into a conventional tic. We worked well together.

            It wasn’t long before the boys discovered us. They came running over to see what we were doing. We told them that we were just checking the wagons over to determine what changes would make them more comfortable for living and working on the road.

            Naturally, this got the boys, already wound up by all the activity around them, even more excited. They were very noisy and boisterous in their enthusiasm to help. I guess all the racket from the boys attracted the curiosity of my wives, as the next thing I knew, they were there too, trying to see what was going on.

From comments and observations they made, I could tell that if I didn't do something fast I would lose all control. The women would try to take over what I considered to be my own project. I was only half joking when I interrupted their chatter.

“Ladies! This is men's work! I will let you help plan how the living-quarters wagon will be set up. But! All the construction will be done by us men. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

            They quieted down for a minute, but then Running Deer piped up, “The lodges have always been the women's domain. We are just trying to be good wives.”

Then they turned on the hurt look, like they thought I didn't want them anymore. What is it with women? Regardless, I immediately sensed this was a genuine concern for them, and realized just how much they feared rejection. I was quick to re-assure them as I drew them into a group hug.

“Ladies… ladies… What’s with all the long faces? I still need you, and even more, I want you in my life! I said you were more than welcome to help with the planning. However, the actual construction can be dangerous. I just don’t want to see any of you hurt, not even a little bit!” I kissed each of their tear-streaked faces on the tip of the nose. They seemed to cheer up then.

            I left them talking with Grandpa for a few minutes while I went back into the shed to get paper and pen from the cab of my pickup. (Doesn’t it seem funny somehow, that cars and trucks always seem to accumulate pens and pencils that are always in the way – until you really need them?) When I came back out we started going over the measurements and making plans on how we wanted the wagons set up.

 Just as we got going good, a boy of about 14 galloped up, hollering, “Doc! Doc! Come quick! There’s trouble in town! One man's already been shot! Please come quick!”

I sent Running Deer to fetch my doctor bag while Grandpa and I started saddling our horses and a fresh mount for the boy that brought the news. It took us no time at all to get ready. As soon as we were, we took off at a gallop toward town. I had no idea what I was riding into – like any trained first responder, I was just answering a call for help.