The deal moved on . . .
* * *
* * *
Three of the players were shop owners from town. The dealer, in his black suit and derby hat, was a professional gambler, slumming in a small stakes game.
After an hour Kincaid had enjoyed himself and was about even. The professional was ahead, while the three storekeepers just kept throwing good money after bad.
“I’ve got to get going, gentleman,” Kincaid said. “Thank you for letting me sit in.”
“You can cash those chips over at that window,” the gambler said, pointing.
“Thanks.”
Kincaid stood up, the gambler said, “My name’s Masterson. I thank you for giving me the opportunity to play with someone who knows the game. I’ll be here a few more days. You come on back.”
“I will,” Kincaid said. “Thanks.”
He took his chips to the window to cash out, then pocketed the money and left, aware that he was being studied.
* * *
* * *
When he entered the house he found Doc Edwin sitting on the sofa.
“Where’ve you been?”
“I went for a walk,” Kincaid said.
“Must’ve been some walk.”
“Well,” Kincaid said, sitting in an armchair across from Edwin, “I stopped in a saloon.”
“You what?”
“I just wanted to have a look,” Kincaid said.
“And you gave them a look,” Edwin said. “Were you stared at?”
“A bit.”
“It’s your clothes,” Edwin said. “You’re lucky some drunk idiot didn’t take exception to the way you’re dressed and challenge you.”
“Challenge me?”
“Things are different out here, Doctor,” Edwin said. “Men here are ruled by their egos, not their intellect. This calls for them to constantly want to prove themselves, or to challenge others to prove themselves.”
“Well,” Kincaid said, “All I did was have a beer and play some poker.”
“Poker?” Edwin said. “Do you know anything about poker?”
“Actually, I do,” Kincaid said. “I played quite a bit of it before I turned my attention to medicine.”
“Did you take anybody’s money?”
“I broke even.”
“That’s probably why they let you walk out,” Edwin said.
“Let me?”
“It’s the ego thing again,” Edwin said. “If you win somebody’s money, they expect you to stay until they can get it back.”
“In which case, it would’ve been a waste of time to even play,” Kincaid observed.
“Who did you play with?” Edwin asked.
“Three of them seemed like local business owners,” he said. “The fourth seemed to be a professional. He said his name was Masterson.”
“Masterson?” Edwin squawked. “You been here a matter of hours and you’ve already played poker with . . . with Bat Masterson?”
“Bat Masterson,” Kincaid rolled the name around in his head a moment. “Of course, now that I think of it, the suit, the derby—”
“Jesus, man,” Edwin said. “You’re lucky he didn’t shoot your ears off.”
“Quite the contrary, Doctor,” Kincaid said. “He complimented the way I played, and even told me to come on back.”
“Good God!” Edwin was aghast.
“Supper is served!” Maggie announced, coming out of the kitchen. When she saw the two of them she asked, “What did I miss?”
CHAPTER FOUR
During supper Maggie kept asking questions about Bat Masterson.
“I really didn’t learn anything about him,” Kincaid said. “I mean, all we did was play poker, but he seemed a decent sort.”
“A lot of them seem decent at first,” Edwin said. “I’ve met and taken bullets out of most of them: the Earps, Doc Holliday, Johnny Ringo, the Mastersons . . . They’re all friendly until you get on their wrong side. I’d advise you not to go back there. Besides, we have a lot to do tomorrow.”
“You mean Dr. Kincaid and I have a lot to do,” Maggie corrected.
“I’ll be prepared if anyone comes here looking for medical assistance,” Edwin said, “but Maggie will take you to my surgery and show you the ropes. And I’m sure you’ll have some patients coming in.”
“It’ll be difficult for them, with a stranger,” Maggie said, “but I’ll try to smooth the way.”
“Won’t they be happy just to have a doctor looking at them?” Kincaid asked.
“Not after so many years of having Doc Edwin,” Maggie said. “But we’ll do the best we can.”
“You should also meet some of the town fathers,” Doc Edwin said. “Unless you’ve already played poker with some of them and taken their money.”
“I think Masterson did all the taking,” Kincaid said. “And I guess now I can see why. What’s he doing here, anyway? Isn’t he a lawman as well as a gambler?”
“Of late,” Doc Edwin said, “he’s actually become more of a sporting man, specializing in prizefighting.”
“He hasn’t been in the ring himself, has he?” Kincaid asked.
“A time or two,” Edwin said, “but only as a referee. For the most part, he attends these fights and bets on them.”
“Did you have a fight here recently?” Kincaid asked.
“We did, two heavyweights,” Doc Edwin said. “But that was a week or so ago. I don’t know why he’s still here.”
“Maybe he just likes the town,” Kincaid suggested. “He told me he was only going to be here a few more days.”
“That’s good,” Edwin said.
“Why?”
“We don’t need the kind of trouble Bat Masterson would attract to this town,” Doc Edwin said. “It’ll be better for all of us if he leaves.”
“I can tell him you said so,” Kincaid offered, with a grin.
“You stay away from him,” Edwin said. “We don’t need our new doctor gettin’ himself killed before he even gets started.”
“Am I the new doctor?” Kincaid asked. “Has that been decided?”
“Hardly,” Edwin growled.
* * *
* * *
After supper they had coffee and some more of Maggie’s pie.
“Tell me about these town fathers you want me to meet,” Kincaid said. “Are they as bad as the politicians back East?”
“I suspect politicians are the same everywhere,” Doc Edwin said. “I’ve had fifty years of them here, and I’ve never liked a one.”
“I don’t blame you,” Kincaid said. At least he and the old sawbones had that in common.
Edwin pushed his plate away and finished his coffee, then stood.
“I’m gonna have a cigar on the porch,” he said. “Join me?”
Kincaid was not a cigar smoker, but he’d had a few in his life, so he said, “Sure, thanks.”
“I’ll clean up and join you,” Maggie said.
“Bring the whiskey when you come,” Edwin said.
“Doc—”
“Just bring it.”
“Yes, sir, you old goat,” she said.
Kincaid followed the limping Doc Edwin out to the front porch, where there were three wooden chairs. They sat and the old sawbones passed him a cheroot. From what little Kincaid knew about cigars, these seemed to be the cheapest kind. Once they lit up he wondered if smoking these foul smelling, bad tasting things had anything to do with Edwin’s longevity.
“How’s the knee?” Kincaid asked.
“Sore as hell,” Edwin said. “I was plannin’ on goin’ to the office tomorrow, but I’m gonna have to forget that for a while, damn it!”
“That’s all right,” Kincaid sad. “You can give me some of my lessons here at the house.”
“You’re gonna have to start tomorrow by goin’ to the mercantile with Maggie and gettin’ some proper clothes.”
“My clothes are proper,” Kincaid said.
“Proper Eastern wear, maybe,” Edwin said. “But you need proper Western wear.”
“Just so the people in town won’t make fun of me?”
“Oh no,” Edwin said. “You’re gonna find out how important it is to have the right clothes, believe you me. Can you handle a gun?”
“Why am I going to have to handle a gun?” Kincaid asked.
“Do you know where you are, son?” Edwin said. “This may not be Wild Bill Hickok’s Old West, but this land still ain’t completely tamed. And I told you about the egos out here. What if Masterson had decided to shoot you tonight?”
“I don’t think my having a gun would’ve saved me, Doc,” Kincaid said.
“It might’ve made him think, and wonder,” Edwin said. “Besides, I’m not talkin’ about a six-shooter. Can you handle a rifle?”
“Oh yes,” Kincaid said. “I’ve done some hunting in my time.”
“All right, that’s good,” Edwin said. “Then you’ll have to buy a rifle, as well. And a horse.”
“You have a horse and buggy,” Kincaid said.
“That’s right, boy,” Edwin said. “I do. You don’t. There’s gonna be times when a buggy won’t be fast enough. You’re gonna have to ride.” Edwin peered over at Kincaid. “You can ride, can’t ya?”
“Yes, I can ride.”
“Well, thank God for that,” Edwin said. “Maybe you ain’t as much of a tenderfoot as you seem.”
The front door opened and Maggie came out, carrying a tray with three shot glasses on it. One of them was filled with less than the other two.
“Doc gets half a glass every night,” Maggie said, so Kincaid wouldn’t take that one.
“Goddamned wet nurse!” Edwin said, taking his half a glass.
Kincaid took one of the others. Maggie sat with the third in her hand.
“What’re you two palavering about?” she asked.
“Apparently,” Kincaid said, “I may not be as much of a tenderfoot as I seem.”
“Well, thank God for that,” she said, echoing Doc Edwin’s words.
“Let’s drink to it,” Edwin said.
He drained his whiskey while Kincaid and Maggie sipped at theirs.
Edwin tossed the rest of his cheroot off the porch and got to his feet.
“I’m goin’ in,” he said. “You two stay out here awhile longer. Maggie, I told this young man you’re gonna help him buy some clothes tomorrow.”
“Am I going to have to dress him, too?”
“I think he’ll be able to handle that part himself,” Edwin said, and went inside.
CHAPTER FIVE
In the morning Kincaid woke to the smell of bacon and followed his nose to the kitchen.
“Good morning,” Maggie said. “Bacon and eggs?”
“I’ll never say no to that,” Kincaid answered. “You want me to go wake Doc Edwin?”
“He’s been up for hours,” Maggie said. “Just have a seat. I’ll get you some coffee.”
“If he’s up,” Kincaid said, sitting at the kitchen table, “where is he?”
“In his office,” she said.
“With a patient?”
“He wishes,” Maggie said, putting a cup of coffee in front of Kincaid. Instead of going back to the stove she stared down at him. “I meant to ask.”
“Ask what?”
“Have you ever been married?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Do you want to get married?”
“Is this a proposal, Maggie?”
“You’re a handsome man,” she said, “but you’re a little young for me. Don’t worry. There are plenty of women your age around here. If you’re interested, I could introduce you to some of them.”
“Why don’t we wait until I get settled in and then we can discuss it?” he suggested.
“Fine,” she said, “but a man needs a wife.”
“It’ll probably happen,” he said, “just not any time soon.”
“What’ll happen?” Doc Edwin asked, entering the kitchen. He was fully dressed, with his shirtsleeves rolled up.
“Maggie’s trying to marry me off.”
“Oh my God, woman,” Edwin said. “Let the man get settled before you start playing matchmaker.”
He sat across from Kincaid and Maggie put a cup of coffee in front of him, too.
“She’s spent many years trying to fix me up with some of the old biddies around here,” Edwin said.
“Until I realized none of them would put up with him,” Maggie said.
“You put up with him,” Kincaid pointed out.
“That’s because I just work here,” she pointed out. “But he’s got no room in his life for a wife.”
“I’ve always been too busy,” Edwin said, “and too set in my ways.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Maggie said.
“Let it go, woman,” Edwin said, then looked at Kincaid. “She considers me one of the great failures of her life.”
“I kept trying, but . . .” She trailed off and shook her head. “Like I said, until I realized how futile it was. He’s just not built to be a husband.”
“Some men aren’t,” Edwin said.
“He’s barely able to be a decent boss,” Maggie added.
Edwin pushed his plate away. Kincaid noticed he hadn’t finished eating. He’d noticed the same thing the night before.
“I’m goin’ back to my office,” the older man said. “Make sure he gets the right introductions—and the right clothes.”
“Will do.”
Edwin left the kitchen.
“How long has his appetite been like this?” Kincaid asked.
Maggie looked relieved.
“Oh good, you noticed,” she said. “It’s been a couple of weeks now. He doesn’t finish his meals, and he’s lost a lot of weight. I was hoping when you—the new doctor—got here, you’d be able to take a look at him without, uh, taking a look at him . . . You know?”
“You want me to diagnose him without actually examining him,” Kincaid said.
“Pretty much.”
“If you’d told me this yesterday, I could’ve looked closer while I was tending to his knee.”
“I didn’t know you so well yesterday,” Maggie said.
“You think you know me better now?”
“Oh yes,” she said. “I’m very good at judging people. I’ve already decided you’re a decent man.”
“And what kind of a doctor am I?”
She stood up and started clearing the table, saying, “That remains to be seen. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you out front.”
She went to the sink. Kincaid drank the last of his coffee, wished he’d snagged the bacon Edwin had left on his plate, then left the kitchen to go to his room and get dressed.
* * *
* * *
That’s what you’re wearing?” Maggie asked, when she met him on the porch. He was sitting with his medical bag at his feet—which brought to her attention his shoes.
“What’s wrong—” he started, looking down at himself.
“Never mind,” she said. “It doesn’t really matter, since we’re going to shop for some new clothes for you.”
“That’s right,” Kincaid said. “Is that where we’re going first?”
“No,” Maggie said. “I’m taking you to Doc Edwin’s surgery. There are usually patients there early in the morning.”
“Good,” Kincaid said. “Lead the way.”
* * *
* * *
Doc Edwin’s surgery was on Hay’s Main Street, several blocks down from the s
heriff’s office, which they passed along the way.
“You still have a sheriff?” he asked.
“Oh, we have a more modern police department at the far end of Main Street, a large, three-story brick building built especially for that purpose.”
The surgery was between a hardware store and a candle shop. As they entered, Kincaid could smell both of them.
“Nobody’s here,” Kincaid said.
“That’s because they know it’s locked until Doc gets here,” she explained. “They’ll be here.”
At that moment the door opened and a woman entered, leading a small boy by the hand. He was dragging his feet with conviction, but to no avail.
“Oh,” the woman said, looking up in surprise. “Um, Maggie, is Doc here?”
“Doc is home sick himself, Mrs. Barkley,” Maggie said, “but this is Dr. Kincaid. He arrived in town yesterday. He can examine Billy.”
The woman looked Kincaid up and down. She was in her thirties and, at first, her look was an approving one. When she stopped looking at him as a man, and started thinking of him as a doctor, it changed.
“Oh, well,” she said. “Billy’s used to Doc Edwin—”
“I am not!” Billy groaned.
“It’s just that,” the woman went on, “we’re just sorta used to Doc Edwin—”
“I understand, Mrs. Barkley,” Kincaid said. “I wouldn’t want to do anything that would upset Billy. He’s probably very used to getting needles from Doc Edwin. I don’t like them myself.” He looked at Billy and made a face, which made the boy laugh.
“I want him!” Billy exclaimed, pointing at Kincaid.
“Well . . . all right,” Mrs. Barkley said.
“Come with me, Billy,” Kincaid said, putting his hand out. The boy released his mother’s hand and grabbed Kincaid’s.
“I’m going to make a pot of tea, Mrs. Barkley,” Kincaid heard Maggie tell the woman as he and Billy went into Doc Edwin’s examination room . . .
* * *
* * *
Dr. Kincaid managed to win over about half of the patients who entered the office that morning—most of them women. The men, on the other hand, said they’d come back when “the real doc” was back.
Ralph Compton Frontier Medicine Page 3
