Date: Mon, 21 Mar 2005 12:18:19 -0500
From: carl5de@netscape.net
Subject: HIGH PLAINS DOCTOR - 2

HIGH PLAINS DOCTOR - 2

Copyright 2005 by Carl Mason and Ed Collins

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the authors.  However based on real events and
places, "High Plains Doctor" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.  As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold
gradually.  If you would like to read other Mason-Collins stories, you
might turn to "Out of the Rubble," "Castle Margarethen," and "The Priest
and the Pauper" which are archived in Nifty's "Historical" section.
Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the authors
at carl5de@netscape.net

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands that anything other than safe sex is sheer insanity!


CHAPTER 2

(Revisiting Chapter 1)

Not surprisingly, Ben found the last leg of his journey to be by far the
most exciting.  As the Union Pacific train passed through eastern Nebraska,
the overwhelming impression was that of tall, waving grass.  Yes, there
were signs of slowly growing civilization, but they tended to be around the
towns on the railroad.  He even saw one wagon train, though Ezra assured
him that before long, train travel would completely replace this hallowed
form of transportation.  As they began slowly to climb onto the high
plains, however, the land became more dry - a land that would someday be
devoted to alfalfa, corn, winter wheat, potatoes, and sugar beets.  In
1872, however, it was still dominated by wild grass, cattle being driven to
railheads and the native buffalo.  They even saw a few small Indian bands
and a couple of cavalry patrols.  The railroad towns were fewer now - and
much smaller - but the sheer beauty of the land absolutely brought their
hearts into their mouths.  Looking over at Ben, who was obviously as taken
by the land as he, Ezra smiled confidently.  Eventually, the conductor
called "Shiloh...next stop...Shiloh," and Ben realized that his journey of
nearly 1800 miles was nearing its end.

(Continuing Our Story - A Western Welcome)

Ben could scarcely believe his eyes - or his ears - as the train pulled to
a full stop in front of the small, wooden station.  The six-piece town band
was enthusiastically pounding out "The Battle Cry of Freedom".  Perhaps 40
citizens - about half of the town's population, he would later learn, not
counting homesteaders, pony soldiers, and transients - were gathered in
their best Sunday-Go-to-Meeting dress, cheering wildly as Ezra and he
detrained.  (Ezra grinned, realizing that his wire from Omaha had done its
job.)  Harry Parsons, Shiloh's unofficial mayor and proprietor of the
largest saloon in town, the Crystal Palace, stepped forward to be
introduced by a proud Ezra Matthews to "Dr. Benjamin Cabot of Boston."
After the mayor had read a short proclamation of welcome, he suggested that
inasmuch as the hour was already late and they must be weary from the long
trip, further festivities had been postponed until the next evening.  "You
will be Shiloh's honored guest at a reception to be held at the Crystal
Palace," he proclaimed.  Ben was generous with his praise and thanks for
the warm welcome.  As youths took their luggage, Ben and Ezra passed
through the friendly, welcoming crowd, receiving smiles, pats on the back,
and handshakes on every side.  "Not much like Boston," Ben murmured to
Ezra.  "I like it already!"

Indeed, it wasn't "much like Boston."  A few railroad facilities were
clustered along the tracks fairly close to the train station.  To the
south, there were holding facilities for cattle and rough bunkhouses for
the cowpokes.  The main part of town seemed to be laid out on either side
of a relatively short dusty street that ran north from the station.  It
included the Crystal Palace (by far the largest building in town), a
smaller, rougher-looking saloon called "Kitty's Place," a small white
community church, a blacksmith's shed, Ezra's Emporium (a good sized retail
store that looked as if it carried everything under the sun), a small food
store, a small bank, two medium- sized unoccupied buildings, and several
tents, one of which housed a laundry operated by Chinese workers.  A few
small houses lined two even shorter streets, also unpaved, that intersected
"Main Street."

On reaching Ezra's small frame house, the men found their luggage already
placed on the porch.  After the long trip and the emotional welcome,
neither man was worth much.  Ezra warmed up a good stew and placed some
sliced bread and butter on the table.  It was more than enough.  The dishes
washed, Ezra showed Ben to a comfortable guest room where he slept like a
rock!

Ben didn't stir until mid morning.  When he staggered sleepy eyed into the
kitchen, he found a note from Ezra telling him where he could find
breakfast makings (including, thank God, coffee).  After his Omaha trip, he
simply had to go into work.  Ben was invited to stop by...whenever.  After
washing, shaving, and dressing, Ben did in fact wander downtown...such as
it was.  Several townspeople greeted him on the street, wishing him a good
visit.  Not finding much to see, he finally wandered into the Emporium.
Frankly, he had never been in a Boston store, even a department store, that
offered such a wide assortment of goods - linens, shovels, lanterns, work
clothing, dress clothing, dishes, fabric, patent medicines, false teeth, a
few pieces of inexpensive jewelry, books, and on and on.  Almost dizzy from
the wild variety, he was glad to see Ezra coming down the crowded aisle
towards him.  "Impressive," he managed to choke out.  "Yep," Ezra laughed.
"When I go into a big city department store, I find it pretty dull.
Nothing like the Emporium!  Come on, it's time for lunch!"  The two men,
fast becoming friends, walked up Main Street towards the Crystal Palace.
Ben veered toward the free lunch on the giant bar that dominated the
downstairs, but Ezra pulled him over towards the tables.  "Hi, Sheila," he
greeted the waitress who immediately appeared at their table.  "What's good
today?"  "Well, honey, there's a great venison stew.  Or, how about some
nice antelope chops?  There's always Max's good sandwiches, of course - and
we had a big order come in on the train yesterday.  Several guys have
already raved about a new beer that was part of it."  After the men had
ordered and Sheila had quickly delivered their lunches, they dove in with
but a minimum of comment.  As far as Max was concerned, Ben thought, the
Crystal Palace had a first rate cook.  He had eaten chops not half as well
prepared in Boston and New York!

At one point, Harry Parsons had wandered over to the table.  "May I offer
you another beer, gentlemen?" he asked.  Happily accepting, Ezra asked
Harry to join them.  "Oh, yeah," he mumbled collapsing into a chair.  "When
the trail hands are coming in, this place's a three-ring circus!"  "When?"
Ezra asked.  "A few days," the proprietor moaned.  "Dr. Cabot, I hope you
are enjoying our little town."  "Mr. Parsons, I have never received a
welcome as warm as yesterday's - and (raising his glass) your new beer is
great!  Thank you.  May I ask one favor?  I would really be more
comfortable if you called me 'Ben" or "Doc' rather than 'Dr. Cabot'."
"Goes both ways, young man," Harry wheezed and stuck out his hand.  "I hope
both of you are ready for a real shindig tonight.  Everybody's coming -
even the Army brass and homesteaders from way out.  They want to meet the
new doc and see if they can convince him to stay 'round these parts."  Ezra
coughed politely, whereupon Harry remembered he had a emergency in the
kitchen and took himself off.  "You know what's up," Ezra murmured
apologetically, "but people 'round here can be a bit...direct.  They mean
well."  Ben quickly replied with a smile, "I'm finding that out.  New
places...new ways.  Besides, it doesn't bother me."

After a quiet nap, Ben awoke feeling thoroughly refreshed.  "A real
shindig, eh?" he murmured to no one in particular.  "Well, bring it on!"

As Ben and Ezra approached the Crystal Palace at dusk, it was fully
illuminated.  The Victorian exterior sparkled in the light of 100 ornate
kerosene lamps.  The great Bohemian crystal chandelier in the main
downstairs bar seemed to be ablaze with light. Unlike a similar affair in
Boston, however, the dress of those inside was extremely varied.  A few men
and women were dressed formally, though most were either dressed in their
Sunday best...or as cleanly and neatly as their budgets allowed.  The blue
uniforms of the Army officers with their wide crimson sashes and yellow
accents contrasted with both the more somber colors of the men's attire and
the more joyous colors of their women.  The small town band, augmented by
several musicians from the cavalry post, played softly in the
background. Ben deemed it a splendid scene - not that he had too long to
enjoy it.  Guided by Ezra and, at times, Harry Parsons, Ben was introduced
to local citizens until faces and names alike seemed collapse into an utter
blur.  The common elements were the warmth of their greeting and their
unconcealed desire for him to establish his practice in the area.  Captain
Samuel Culpepper who commanded the cavalry outpost, for instance, lamented
that five of his men had died during the year past fighting "hostiles," men
whose lives could have been saved had "professional" medical attention been
available.  Two wives of homesteaders, clad in simple dresses that Ben
recognized from the Emporium, bemoaned the loss of babies in childbirth, as
well as the high death rate among very young children.  The boss of the
trail hands who would shortly bring their cattle into the stockyards was no
less emphatic.  Every drive, he repeated sadly, saw young men - men who
usually hadn't reached their twentieth birthdays - lost unnecessarily
through infections that followed sometimes minor accidents.  Clearly, the
townspeople and those living and working in the area were doing their duty
in a carefully orchestrated plan to bring a medical doctor to Shiloh!

After a formal introduction by the mayor and several toasts, the
"reception" rather quickly transformed into a dance.  Ben took a few turns
around the floor, finding it, for instance, difficult to shake off the
attentions of Miss Matilda Sommers, the teacher of Shiloh's one-room
grammar school housed at the train station.  He talked for a bit with
Captain Culpepper and his wife, discovering that the Captain had also
fought at Gettysburg, though as a Colonel in a Confederate cavalry unit.
Soon, however, he found himself guided into Harry Parson's office where he
joined several citizens.  Over good whiskey, the mayor placed an attractive
offer on the table.  Two half-way decent building were available on Main
Street.  He could have either of them free of charge for five years.
Further, experienced carpenters would make any changes desired by the
doctor, both downstairs and upstairs where a comfortable, two-bedroom
apartment (with the only indoor plumbing in Shiloh other than that at the
Crystal Palace) could be created.  He would also be given a carriage with a
nice horse and a small, smooth-riding wagon with stable facilities at the
blacksmith's.  Food and drink at the Crystal Palace would be free for one
year, as would laundry at the Chinese tent facility.  Finally, a generous
allowance was promised to help set up both his medical office and his
apartment.  Just about anything that modern life allowed could be had in
either Omaha or Chicago and brought quickly to Shiloh by train.  Ben looked
over at the banker who smiled encouragingly.  For a moment, before
speaking, he stared into the whiskey through the beautiful crystal glass
held in his hand.  "Gentlemen," he finally said, "I am grateful beyond
words for your generosity and the warmth of your welcome. It seems that
Shiloh has a new physician."

As might be expected, Ben returned to the main room to find that everyone
already knew that he had accepted the town's offer.  Although the
homesteaders left rather early for their long rides home and their early
rising, the merriment continued late into the night.

(A Doctor's Life - Year One)

  (Home and Office)

The morning was still young when Ben and Ezra inspected the two potential
home and office buildings, made a choice, and met with an itinerant
carpenter and his brother who had agreed to make desired changes.  Ben
devoted the rest of the day to diagraming floor plans and making lists of
essential equipment and furniture that had to be ordered.  Between the
carpenters, who really knew how to work, the magic of the telegraph, the
Union Pacific, and an especially generous budget, Ben's surgery and
apartment came together faster than he had ever hoped.  When all the basic
work had been done and basic furniture was in place, Mrs.  Parsons and
Mrs. Culpepper came over with piles of parcels from the Emporium and
transformed the upstairs into a pleasant and livable home.  Beyond hanging
his shingle outside the front door and his Harvard diplomas on the wall of
his office, Shiloh's new doctor was happy to leave such matters in the
hands of those who knew what they were doing!  (On Mrs.  Culpepper's
suggestion, a young Chinese girl came in twice a week to keep both the
surgery and the apartment in order.)  The first dinner that he hosted -
with the sterling assistance of Max and one of his assistants from the
Crystal Palace - was for Ezra, the Parsons, and the Culpeppers.  It
featured thick aged steaks from Omaha and bottles of a superb French wine
from Chicago.  No dinner at the Boston mansion had ever tasted better - or
been more enjoyed by honored guests.

  (Public Health)

Ben's Civil War experience, including his time in hospitals in both the
Army and in Boston, had suggested so much that he did not know.  He
attempted to learn much about infectious diseases at Harvard Medical
School, for instance, but he found the lack of scientific information to be
discouraging.  In Europe, the work of Koch and Pasteur was just beginning
and American physicians had little knowledge of the cause and prevention of
disease and infection.  During the late 1860s and early 1870s two-fifths to
one-half of children in major American cities died before reaching the age
of five. The major killers included measles, scarlet fever, smallpox,
diphtheria, whooping cough, bronchitis, pneumonia, tuberculosis, and
dysentery.  Beginning in the 1870s, the discovery that infectious diseases
were caused by specific microorganisms made it possible to control them
through vaccination, antibiotics, better sanitation, water purification,
and elimination of carriers such as rats and mosquitoes. At the same time,
improvements in nutrition and living conditions increased resistance to
infection.  Unfortunately, Ben did not bring this knowledge to Shiloh when
he arrived in 1872.

What he did bring was a commitment to sanitation that he had developed
through his Army hospitalization plus a sense of great caution when he
examined a patient for signs of infection.  He talked at length, for
example, with Harry Parsons and Sal (who owned and ran "Kitty's Place"),
attempting to increase their commitment to cleanliness in both their
"hostesses" and their bordello facilities.  If a girl were showing signs of
being sick or had a strange skin condition, he encouraged them to "keep her
off the line" for a few days.  He also recommended that no customer be
allowed to "go upstairs" unless he had bathed.  Inadequate?  Yes, but one
must start somewhere. In his first year in Shiloh, he was clearly fighting
an uphill battle.  Kitty's Place, in particular, was a pretty rough
operation, both in terms of the people who frequented it and their
expectations of how their needs would be met.  At first they were
monumentally disinterested in anything other than liquoring up, grabbing a
girl, and pushing her upstairs.

Ben's efforts had a more salutary effect with the homesteaders.  Given the
number of babies who were pushed out during his first year, he swore that
he didn't see how they got much other work done on their small farms!  In
his carriage or on horseback, he became a frequent visitor in the upland
country around Lodge Pole Creek.  Given their rude dwellings made chiefly
of sod and brush wood, given the fact that they were barely eking out an
existence, cleanliness and a reasonably adequate diet were not easy to
maintain.  The rats and the mice had to go?  The outhouses had to be
located away from drinking water?  Nevertheless, the frightening rate of
infant mortality and the death rate among their youngest offspring caused
them to listen - and slowly, ever so slowly, the death rate dropped.  (In
later years, he could scarcely believe how many kids he met who were named
"Benjamin," Benji, or even "Benjamina" - kids who generally referred to him
as either "UncDoc" or "Uncle Ben," depending on their age.  "Well," he
thought, "at least he knew it hadn't been HIS doing!")

Everyone seemed to be having babies!  One of the saddest events came only a
couple of months after his arrival.  Rousted out of bed by a wild pounding
on his apartment door in the wee hours of the morning, he opened it to find
a rough cowpoke nearly speechless with excitement.  Mary, one of Sal's
girls, was having a baby and she was in trouble!  "Come quick, Doc,
please!"  Grabbing his medical bag and breathlessly rushing over to Kitty's
Place, he found that Mary was in the most serious kind of trouble.  Somehow
the fetus had become lodged in the birth canal.  Washing up and ordering
clean cloths, Dr. Ben went to work, but nothing that he did had the
slightest effect.  He quickly delivered the baby by a Cesarian section...a
healthy baby boy.  Cleaning the infant and wrapping him in a clean towel,
he handed him to Sal and turned to his mother.  Ben never knew whether it
was due to an infection or simply the stress of the birth, but Mary failed
rapidly.  After four hours, the young woman gave up her struggle for life.
He was about to roundly criticize Sal for not having him see Mary some time
before the birth - until he found them in Sal's apartment.  The baby was
already being breast-fed by a young woman.  Sal stood over them with a look
on her face that said that the baby had found a new mother.  "Meet Paddy,"
she whispered.  "You will help me take care of him properly - not like the
way I failed Mary?"  Ben kept his words of criticism to himself, offered a
few words of advice on newborns before he left, and became a frequent
visitor at Kitty's Place.  Although she remained a pretty "rough diamond,"
Sal became much more receptive to his pleas for better health procedures at
the bordello.

  (Chip, a.k.a. "Rawhide")

Another potentially serious incident occurred before the summer sun
departed from the high plains.  The hour was late.  As Dr. Ben made ready
to close up his office and climb the stairs towards another lonely meal, a
heavy wagon rumbled to a halt outside the front door. Three young cowpokes
rushed in, carrying a fourth.  None of them could have been much more than
18.  The boy's body was covered with blood; he was almost unconscious.
"This here's Rawhide," one of the youngsters growled.  "He's our buddy.
Take care of him good, heah?  Our trail boss, who's several days out with
the Circle J herd, said that he'd take care of your money."  "Ok, boys,"
the doctor replied, "carry Rawhide into the next room, put him on the
table, and get his clothes off.  Gently now!  Cut 'em off if you have to."
"Looks worse than it is," another youngster exclaimed.  "He shot himself in
the leg goofin' off."  "Thanks, men," Ben replied as he washed up and
quickly gathered some medical gear.  "You can get back to the herd now.
I'll take good care of Rawhide and get him back to you as soon as
possible."

The flow of blood had already lessened to a slow trickle by the time Doc
turned to him.  In any case, he had no difficulty in stanching the flow,
pouring a healthy amount of whiskey into the wound and examining his body
for other injuries.  "A good body it was - even though he couldn't be more
than 17.  Handsome, lad...nice equipment...  A strawberry blond, the kid
was almost hairless, other than for the thick shoulder-length locks on his
head.  Although thin, he was anything but emaciated.  In fact, his body was
well covered with muscle, sinewy muscle.  "'Rawhide'?  A good name for
him..." Ben thought.  Pouring some of the whiskey over his own hands, the
doctor sewed up the gunshot wound.  "Dear God, less than a half-inch to the
right, and he would have been dead before his friends ever got to him!"
Instinctively, he felt a surge of affection for the youngster.  Covering
the boy's body with a light blanket, Ben dozed on a cot beside the padded
table.  Around 3:00 a.m. the boy began to come to.  While the kerosene
lantern didn't allow an accurate analysis, his color appeared to have
improved and the wound looked good.  After having his face sponged off and
accepting a teaspoonful of cool water, the lad fell into a quiet sleep.

Chip actually woke Ben up in the morning with his calls of "Doc?  Doc?"
Awaking with a start, Ben was all business.  The lad looked fully awake and
aware; there was no temperature, his heart beat strongly, and the wound was
already beginning to heal nicely.  "What in hell did you do to yourself,
Rawhide?" the young doctor growled as he ruffled the boy's long hair.
"Call me 'Chip,' doc?  Please?" the lad mumbled, responding to the
affection he sensed in both the man's hand and voice.  "Ok, Chip, what in
hell did you do to yourself?"  "Man," the youngster groaned, "it was so
stupid.  I was practicing fast-drawing my Colt out of the holster - and I
didn't get it out in time!"  "Well, Chip," Ben replied, "if that bullet had
entered your thigh another half- inch to the right, you would have had no
further worries."  "Yeah, doc...stupid.  (Pause.)  Doc, I'm starving!  Is
there any grub around?"  "There sure is, my boy.  You stay right there and
I'll see what I can rustle up."  With than, Ben went upstairs into the
kitchen and threw together a nice breakfast of eggs, ham, toast, and
coffee.  Sitting beside the boy as he wolfed down the rations, he decided
that his young patient just might live.  What was that saying about God and
teenagers?  Over a second cup of coffee, he asked the boy if everything
else were ok.

"Dunno, doc...  If I told you something - and, maybe, asked a few questions
- would it stay just between you and me?"  "Yep," Ben answered, "just
between you and me.  Shoot."  "I'm kinda wondering if there's something
wrong with me...sexually," the boy muttered, blushing deeply through his
heavy tan.  "I'm still a virgin," he added, his face, neck, and upper chest
turning even redder until he looked like a sunset over the North Platte.
"You know, doc, I've gone into a LOT of saloons," he added with a touch of
adolescent bravado, "but," he added, his bravado dissipating, "the girls
just don't turn me on.  Maybe something's not working.  Is there any way to
check out something like that?"  "Yeah, Chip, there are ways, but, hey,
they can be a little embarrassing.  Are you sure you wouldn't like to wait
until you get home and have your dad or your regular doctor check it out?"
"No, sir, I'd rather have you do it.  I'm a man; I can take it."

"Ok," Ben agreed, moving over to the table and removing the blanket.  The
boy's cock, a respectable 7-incher, was already rock-hard, the reddened
upper parts were nearly the same shade as his face, and precum had already
coated the glans and was beginning to trickle down the sides towards his
light thatch of strawberry pubes.  Dr. Ben stopped in his tracks and
growled, "CHIP!  We're both men, we respect each other, and we're involved
in a medical check-up.  Kindly, lose the embarrassment!"  "Yes, sir!" Chip
replied strongly, gulped, and set his jaw determinedly.  Ben softly stoked
his nicely sized scrotum and fingered the large, heavy testes.
"Oh-h-h-h-h..." the youngster moaned.  "You're doing fine, Chip," Ben
murmured.  With that, he began to titillate the boy's shaft, working
upwards until he was able to play with the flange, brush the frenulum, and
circle the glans with a finger richly coated in the boy's precum.
"AGH-H-H-H-H!" Chip groaned as the fires built.  As the young man writhed
on the table, Ben gently worked a well-lubricated finger through his anal
sphincter and softly stroked his prostrate gland.  With the other hand, he
vigorously manipulated Chip's penis.  "HA!  OH, SHEE-EET--T!"  the boy
screamed and literally exploded!  The initial column of pearlescent cum
climbed about four feet in the air before returning to earth and coating
EVERYTHING!  Continuing explosions added to the goo on Ben's startled face
as well as Chip's hair and the floor that bordered the table.  An enormous
globule of cum even hung stickily from his spasmodically twitching big toe!

Ben had all he could do to resist bursting out in raucous (if admiring)
howls of laughter.  "I'd say," he commented dryly, "that your sexual
equipment is working...just fine."

"Yeah...I guess," the boy responded.  "Ahem, sir...  Are there any other
tests...to make sure?"  "Yeah, Ben answered just about breaking up, but
they're REALLY embarrassing.  Are you sure?"  "How long do we have to
wait?" the boy inquired.  "Well, for me, about 40 minutes or so - unless
that is, I had put out as much cum as you did.  Then, I'd say, about a
year.  For you?  Oh, give it a few minutes!"  "SUPER!" Chip enthused.
"Let's do ALL the tests and make sure!"

While they both enjoyed soft drinks, Ben took at look at a slide coated
with Chip's cum.  Thank God for his father's graduation present from the
Harvard Medical School, a magnificent microscope crafted by the world
renown Charles A. Spencer himself!  Thank God he had suffered and lugged it
all the way from Boston - even though it had displaced a goodly supply of
clothes!  "Heh...heh!" he cackled as he examined the wriggling spermatozoa.
The slide resembled nothing less than shark feeding time in Botany Bay!
"Good thing you never got into a girl, Chip.  She'd have had sextuplets, at
least!"  Not quite sure of what the doctor was cackling about, Chip asked
eagerly if it were time.

"Yes, my boy, it IS time.  Lie back now and let me do all the work.  You
just relax and enjoy!"  With that, he began at Chip's knees and tongued his
way up the boy's body, paying particular attention to the warm flesh of his
inner thighs.  After nibbling for a moment on his scrotum, he skipped up to
his eyelids, kissed the tip of his nose, and sucked lightly for a moment on
the lad's Adam's apple.  Moving to the youngster's nipples, he alternately
lathed, sucked, and nibbled until the moaning boy just about wiggled off
the table.  Moving to the muscled, but absolutely flat stomach, he used his
tongue as he would use his hands in massage.  The boy's cock was now hard,
dark red, and flowing...rather than dripping.  Surprising the young pup, he
covered his partially open mouth with his own, extending his tongue deep
into the orifice, touching, demanding, dueling, challenging.  Both men were
on the verge of cumming, their passions enflamed beyond control.  Quickly,
he returned to his target, licking up the seam on the scrotum and the cock,
to the frenulum itself.  After probing it for a moment, he calmly deep
throated the boy and began swallowing, applying his throat muscles against
the substantial head and shaft.  The good-looking 17 year-old didn't stand
a chance!  Within less than a moment, he propelled a rich supply of cum
deep into his companion.

As they lay on their sides, facing each other, on the narrow table, Chip
moaned lightly and said, "Oh man, I love you so."  Dr. Benjamin Cabot let
that one pass.  He knew (and deeply appreciated) both mid and late teens,
but he knew that they had to grow at their own rates.  He contented himself
with simply nibbling on Chip's earlobe.  "Got to get you back to your herd
tomorrow," he whispered.  "Yeah," the lad said sadly.  "I promised my dad
and the trail boss that I'd give it everything I had.  Will I see you
again?"  "Lawdy...lawdy...lawdy," Doc mumbled, echoing the rich accents of
his black Massachusetts troops.  "Of course!  I've got to take those
stitches out before you return to Texas.  Besides, you might like the third
part of my sex tests!"  "Oh, yeah," the boy chortled, returning to his
happy, sleepy descent from the highest peak he had ever climbed.  "Besides,
I owe you!"

They took the carriage early the next morning in order to cushion and
carefully protect Chip's leg.  As they turned onto Main Street, a moody
youngster said, "I guess I like men, don't I?"  "Maybe," Ben carefully
answered, "but a lot of us do - and we live happy lives doing all kinds of
jobs.  It's not the worst of all possible worlds, even though we do have to
be careful."  "Man, I believe that!" Chip exclaimed.  Continuing, Ben
asked, "Would you take a couple of words of advice from a guy who would
like to be a friend?"  "I'd really appreciate that, sir," answered the
youngster.  "Don't make any moves on anyone until we have had time to talk
when we meet next.  I think I can give you a few hints on handling yourself
that might save you some grief and give you some good surprises.  Promise?"
"Yes, sir," Chip replied.  "Besides, I want that third lesson!"  Ben broke
into laughter and threw his arm around the lad's shoulders as they
approached the Circle J camp where the cowpokes were making ready to break
camp for the final drive into Shiloh.

  (Pony Soldiers)

The snow had already been falling for several weeks when a Pony Soldier
appeared at his office door, entered, snapped to attention, and barked,
"Sir, good morning, sir!"  "Relax, soldier.  I'm no longer in the Army,"
Ben responded, grinning a bit and wondering how in hell a mustered out
First Lieutenant still rated military courtesy.  "Sir, Captain Culpepper
sends his respects and asks if you would be so kind as to accompany me to
the Post."  "There's a problem, Sergeant?"  Ben asked.  "Sir, yes, sir!
One of our patrols got chewed up pretty good by the damned Indians...sorry,
sir!  Captain Culpepper said they could use your help!"  Doc Cabot
immediately slipped into his action gear and murmured, "Hold on a minute,
Sergeant, while I get my bag, and I'll be right with you."

The two-mile ride to the cavalry post seemed to take forever in the bitter
cold, the heavy snow, and the biting wind.  On arrival, Ben was escorted
immediately to the infirmary where the Troop's medic, a young Sergeant,
approached him with a worried frown.  "Sir, I took care of two of the men
who had minor wounds, but there are two more who are just not responding.
Would you be so kind as to take a look."  "Of course, Sergeant.  Please
provide hot water, strong soap, and clean cloths, if you will.  A bottle of
real rotgut would also help."  The Sergeant grinned knowingly and departed
to collect whatever the doc wanted.  "An OFFICER would drink that crap?" he
wondered silently to himself.

Ben's initial examination suggested that he didn't have anything like
smallpox on his hands.  On the other hand, the arrow wound had become
infected, and a deep side wound from a lance showed no sign of healing.
Within a relatively short time, Ben had operated on the lance wound,
opening, cleaning, and irrigating it with the alcohol.  As he went along,
he talked with the medic about sanitary needs, suggesting ways in which the
Post medical facility could be made less likely to spread trouble.  "Some
of our older troopers would be surprised to learn the uses to which rotgut
can be put," the young noncom grunted.  "Yeah," Ben answered, "but that
stuff is best used out in the field...at the time of the injury," he added
with a lopsided grin.

In truth, Ben was more worried about the arrow wound.  Beyond cleaning it
up a bit, there was very little else that he could do.  God knows, there
was no way that he wanted to amputate the lad's arm.  On the frontier in
January of 1873, he still had to depend on the strength of the youngster's
body, and his will to live, to throw off the infection.  Beyond keeping the
boys clean and warm, it was now a matter of waiting.  It was touch and go
for several days, though each trooper finally passed his crisis, his fever
dropped, and he began to recover.

As the good doctor of Shiloh, now lightly bearded, stepped outside Captain
Culpepper's quarters - after a superb breakfast cooked by his good wife -
he looked at the pony soldiers drawn up in a double line between him and
the main gate.  After saying goodbye to his host and hostess - and sharing
a quiet, affectionate word with the young medic - he mounted and passed
between them.  As if he were one of them, they broke out in wild cheers.
Not only had he gained their respect, but it seemed that Barry and Kyle,
the young troopers who were on their way back to health, were great
favorites.  An honor guard of four troopers escorted him back to Shiloh.

  (Personal Notes)

In the early spring, Ben finally...reluctantly...joined the local
"Community Church."  At best, he was a "cultural Christian;" at worst, he
could mount a high degree of contempt for clergy and their "magical" ideas
that impeded the growth of science.  There was another element.  Eziekiel
Long, the pastor, was a firebrand, a rabble-rouser of the worst sort.
After the War, he had migrated north from "Bloody Kansas," a "violent
abolitionist temporarily without a cause."  He didn't trust the man and,
more, hated the brand of hate that he spewed from the pulpit.  "Rotgut!" he
mumbled to himself on several occasions.  Nevertheless, the church was the
center of social life in Shiloh - even more in many ways than the Crystal
Palace where he never saw many of his most valued patients.  Slowly, Ben
was becoming thoroughly integrated into the community.  Yet, he was also
increasingly lonely and felt himself at cross-purposes.  The occasional
trysts with Ezra Matthews, his best friend in Shiloh, continued, but
neither man was "in love" with the other.  At best, Ben found their sweaty
grappling to be little more than a band- aid on a gaping open wound.  How
poorly it compared with his second meeting with young Chip where he advised
him on strategies for making gay contacts (without losing his teeth in the
process!) and introduced him to the glories of anal sex.  Wow...what an
evening!  Had Chip ever "paid off his debt" - and proved beyond the shadow
of a doubt that all of his equipment was REALLY working.  Oh, yeah!
Parenthetically, he had also removed the boy's stitches before he headed
back to Texas.

Dressed in his best suit, clean shaven - for he had come to the conclusion
that a beard made him look about ten years older than his 32 years, a fact
that did nothing for his ego or his professional status - he even attended
the spring dance in the basement of the church.  All things considered, it
was a disaster.  Pastor Long buttonholed him and extolled the love of
Christ while warning him of the foulness that lurked in the cesspool that
was the human heart.  He couldn't have been happier that some of the
younger homesteaders had spiked the insipid punch!  His "duty dances" with
several of the homesteader wives and a few of the younger shopkeepers who
had moved into the growing town weren't so bad...but there was Matilda
Sommers, the town's schoolmarm!  He had found her a bit "sticky" at the
reception that had attended his arrival, but she had evidently decided that
only a full frontal attack would land the most eligible bachelor in Shiloh.
A full frontal attack?  Yes, that was exactly what it was!  "That woman has
to have an icebreaker or two in her family tree," he groaned to himself as
he tried to breathe.  There were surely things that he enjoyed feeling as
they pressed into his body, Ben decided, but a woman's breasts just didn't
make the list!  She had recently been to Omaha and kept up a steady stream
of conversation about what Aunt Hattie had said, and why she couldn't
possibly wear the newest Paris creations that she had tried on...for hours,
my dear, for hours...  in the finest stores.  When she wasn't babbling
about relatives and hats, she was babbling about first graders, her idea of
perfect human beings.  "Don't you just love them?" she inquired
sweetly...for the fifth or sixth time.  Leaving her babbling...with a cup
of spiked punch...he escaped to the privy "out back" where he sat on a low
wall, wiping his brow and waiting his turn.  "You're damned if you do, and
you're damned if you don't," a very tipsy young man slurred as he staggered
out of the privy.  "Good luck, brother!"  "I think I need more than luck,"
Ben moaned as he quietly crept away from the church...and Matilda Sommers.

(A Note from the Future)

On one of his trips to check on Baby Paddy at Kitty's Place, Ben spied a
circular posted on a message board at the entrance.  An "orphans train"
would make its very first stop in Shiloh on the 19th.  Thirty-one children
from the East Coast, mainly from the immigrant slums of New York City, aged
four months to 16 years, were advertised as available "free to good homes
on a ninety days trial."  "June 19, 1873," Ben muttered, "just about a year
since I arrived in this country."  Shrugging his shoulders, he grunted, "At
least they aren't all first graders!" and entered Kitty's.


(To Be Continued)