Ralph Compton Frontier Medicine

by Robert J. Randisi

  “I see.”

  Kincaid soaked the cloth again and put it on Berryman’s head again.

  “This doesn’t have to be smallpox or anything like that, Sheriff,” Kincaid said. “It could just be a virus that will pass. Since you and these other five were the first to show symptoms, I’m going to keep an eye on you. We should know pretty soon.”

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  Kincaid walked over to Grace.

  “None of these six have any rash,” he said. “So far, so good.”

  “Do you want some coffee, Doc?” she asked. “I have a pot going in the sacristy.”

  “No,” Kincaid said. “I’m going to give everyone a second look. Try to reassure them, especially the children.”

  “That’d be wonderful,” she said. “I know the little ones are frightened.”

  “I think we’re all a little frightened,” Kincaid said, “but let’s try not to let that show, huh?”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Kincaid made another circuit of the church, examining all the patients inside. There were twenty-three, twelve of whom were children. He spoke with the adults and spent more time with the children, while Grace and the other two volunteer women applied the cold cloths in an attempt to lower their fevers.

  At one point there was a banging on the back door of the church. Grace hurried back there, saying it was probably more water. But she returned moments later empty-handed.

  “It’s Eddie, Doc,” she said. “He wants to talk to you.”

  “All right.”

  Kincaid went through to the back door, found Eddie just outside. He backed up a few feet when he saw the doctor.

  “Relax, Eddie,” Kincaid said. “You’re not going to catch anything.”

  “Well,” Eddie said. “I did what you asked me to do. I talked to that lady in Hays City, at the apo—apothe—that shop. She said she had no medicine—whataya call it, vaccine? But she can get some, if you want.”

  Kincaid wondered if he should even request it. If the word got out . . .

  “Did she say how long it would take?”

  “She says she’d have to send to Kansas City for it,” Eddie said. “It might take a day. Should I ask her to?”

  “No, not yet,” Kincaid said. “I don’t want to start a panic. Eddie, don’t mention smallpox to anyone.”

  “I won’t,” he said. “I swear.”

  “Keep bringing buckets of water here to the back door,” Kincaid said.

  “My niece,” he asked. “She ain’t got smallpox?”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Those men out front are sayin’ it,” Eddie told him. “They wanna burn the church. If they find out my niece is in the hotel—”

  “I don’t think your niece has smallpox, Eddie,” Kincaid said. “In fact, there’s no indication right now that anyone has it.”

  “Are you gonna go back to the hotel and look at her?”

  “It seems she was the most recent to fall ill,” Kincaid said. “I’ll do better staying here and watching the patients who were the first to get it. If this gets worse, it’ll happen to them first. Then I’ll have time to send for a vaccine and give it to your niece. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All right,” Kincaid sad. “Now fetch more water. And more cloth.”

  “Where do I get the cloth?”

  “Go to the mercantile,” Kincaid said. “Tell them we expect them to donate some.”

  “Yes, all right.”

  Kincaid closed the back door and went inside. He hoped he could trust Eddie not to spread the word smallpox around. That would panic not only the people of Craddock, but also Hays City and the entire county.

  * * *

  * * *

  Kincaid remained in the church until after dark, at which time the crowd in front had grown, and torches were lit. Kincaid went to talk to Sheriff Berryman.

  “Sheriff, is there anyone who can stand against this crowd out front?” he asked. “Any of your volunteer deputies?”

  “I don’t think so,” Berryman said. “I think they’re all out there, Doc.”

  Kincaid held a cup of water for the lawman to drink.

  “Where’s your badge?” he asked.

  “It’s here,” Berryman said, “on my vest.” He pointed to where his vest and gun belt were resting nearby.

  “Do you mind if I use it?”

  “I’ll have to swear you in as a deputy.”

  “No need,” Kincaid said. “I’ll just need it for a short time. I’ll bring it right back.”

  “Take it,” Berryman said, “and do what you can.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kincaid took the badge from the sheriff’s vest, then walked to the front of the church.

  “What are you going to do?” Grace asked.

  “Just step outside for a moment,” Kincaid said. “You stay here.”

  “God go with you,” she said.

  He started away, but then turned back because of what she said.

  “Is there a priest at this church?”

  “No,” she said, “there hasn’t been for quite a while. Those of us who continue to worship do it on our own.”

  “I see. All right, make sure you stay inside, no matter what you hear.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  He held up the badge and said, “I’m going to try a bluff.”

  He stepped outside. The darkness was lit by the torches the mob was holding.

  “Who’s in charge here?” Kincaid shouted.

  Nobody answered.

  “Come on,” he said, “who’s got the big mouth?”

  A man with a torch appeared to be pushed from behind.

  “Who’re you?” Kincaid called.

  “My name’s Zack Tyler.”

  “Yeah,” Kincaid said, “I recognize your voice. You’re the one who was yelling at me when I got here. Come closer.”

  “What?” Tyler asked.

  “Come closer,” Kincaid repeated. “I’ve got something I want you to see.”

  The man didn’t move.

  “Come on,” Kincaid said. “You’re not going to catch anything.”

  “You said it might be in the air.”

  “I was trying to scare you,” Kincaid said. “Now I just want to educate you. Come on.”

  Zack Tyler was in his forties, looked like he was a Craddock businessman. He wasn’t carrying a gun. He took a few steps forward.

  “You see what I’ve got in my hand?” Kincaid asked, holding out his left hand.

  “I can’t see—”

  “Come on, it’s dark. Come closer with that torch.”

  Tyler moved a few feet closer, until the torch he was holding lit what Kincaid was holding.

  “See it?”

  “The sheriff’s badge?”

  “My badge now,” Kincaid said. “Until Berryman gets back on his feet. You know what that means?”

  “What?”

  “I can shoot you,” Kincaid said, “while you’re holding that torch. And I can shoot anybody in this crowd who’s holding one.”

  Tyler looked at the torch in his hand.

  “You remember the name you called me?”

  “Dr. Death?”

  “So now I’m Deputy Dr. Death,” Kincaid said. “You tell all your friends here that I’m going to shoot anybody I see holding a torch, whether it’s lit or not. You got it?”

  “I got it,” the man said, nervously.

  Kincaid didn’t know if the nerves were caused by what he said, or the nearness of the church.

  “Go!” Kincaid said. “And put that torch out.”

  Tyler turned and ran back to the mob, d
ragging the torch in the dirt behind him until it went out.

  Kincaid went back inside.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  The next morning—after spending a restless night trying to sleep on a wooden pew, and treating feverish patients—Kincaid was startled when there was knocking on the front doors of the church. Grace looked over at him with frightened eyes.

  “I’ll get it,” he said. “Just wait here.”

  With his gun in his belt and the sheriff’s badge in his pocket, he went to the doors. When he opened them he was surprised to see both Maggie and Nora Legend standing there.

  “We thought you might be needing some help,” Nora said.

  “We can use all the hands we can get,” Kincaid said. “Come on in.”

  He looked past them at the mob that seemed to have thinned out and done away with their torches. Whatever Zack Tyler had told them worked.

  Maggie and Nora entered, Nora carrying a large basket.

  “I brought some things I thought you might need,” she said.

  “You didn’t send for the smallpox vaccine, did you?” he asked, hoping she’d say no.

  “No, I didn’t. I knew you wouldn’t want to start a panic. I wasn’t going to do it unless I got a message from you asking me to do so.”

  “That’s perfect.”

  In the basket he did find some medication that would work on high fevers, some quinine pills, gauze, and cloth. There was also some bread and cheese. But the most valuable things they had brought with them were the extra hands. With them there, Grace and the other ladies could take a rest.

  For the rest of the afternoon the women worked in shifts, but there was no one to relieve Kincaid. Until Nora came over and stared at him.

  “You’re worn out,” she said. “Why don’t you lie down? We’ll call you if anyone gets worse.”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “You’re not going to do any of them any good if you pass out,” she told him.

  “You’re right about that,” Kincaid said. “Well, maybe just for half an hour or so.”

  He found an empty pew and reclined on it . . .

  * * *

  * * *

  He didn’t get half an hour.

  “Gabriel,” Nora said, shaking him.

  “Half an hour already?”

  “No,” she said, “barely fifteen minutes, but you better come.”

  He struggled up off the pew and followed her. She led him to where the sheriff was.

  “He’s worse,” she said.

  Kincaid knelt down next to the man, examined him, and stood.

  “He’s not worse . . . he’s dead.”

  “Oh my God,” she said, putting her hands over her mouth. “Is it . . .”

  “I’ll have to examine him thoroughly,” he said. “I’ll need more lights.”

  There were storm lamps all through the church. So they collected four of them and set them up around the dead man.

  “Keep them working on the others,” he told her. “I don’t need an audience.”

  “If he had smallpox . . .” Nora began.

  “I know,” he said. “Go.”

  The women were busy with the other patients, especially the kids, while he gave the sheriff’s body a full examination. By the time Nora came over he was finished.

  “Gabriel?” she asked. “Was it—”

  “It wasn’t smallpox,” Kincaid said. “It will take an autopsy, but I think he had a problem with his lungs and suffocated.”

  “Poor man.”

  “There was hemorrhaging in his eyes,” Kincaid said.

  “How can you tell?”

  “It leaves small red dots in the whites of the eyes,” he said. “It’s call petechial hemorrhaging.”

  “Is it contagious?” she asked.

  “No, it can be caused by noninfectious means, like lupus or leukemia,” he explained. “Again, it’ll take an autopsy to pinpoint the cause, but it’s not smallpox. In fact, I’m pretty sure none of these people have smallpox.”

  “Can we tell that to all the frightened people outside?” she asked.

  “Let’s wait for some improvement in these other patients,” he said. “I don’t want to tell them that the sheriff dying proved it, when it didn’t. All this proves is that he didn’t have smallpox.”

  “All right. But . . . Can I tell the others in here?”

  “Yes,” he said, “explain it to them. I’m going to wrap the body in a blanket and put it in another part of the church. Hopefully, this will all be over and we’ll be out of here soon.”

  “I hope,” she said.

  * * *

  * * *

  It was the next day before anyone started showing signs of improvement, and it was in the first five patients.

  “Their temperatures are going down,” Kincaid said.

  His pronouncement was received with applause, but it petered out as everyone felt bad about doing it with Sheriff Berryman lying dead.

  “All right, all right,” he said, “that doesn’t mean we stop cooling them all down.”

  “But it does mean there’s no smallpox,” Grace said.

  “Yes, that’s what it means,” he answered.

  “Can I tell Eddie that his niece doesn’t have smallpox?” she asked. “Next time he comes to the back door?”

  “Sure,” Kincaid said, “let him know, and he can tell his sister.”

  Grace took a deep, cleansing breath.

  “When do we get to leave here?”

  “When the rest of these people can walk out,” Kincaid said, “we’ll walk out with them.”

  “That sounds good,” Grace said.

  She went back to tending to patients, and Maggie came over to him.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I don’t like losing patients.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “You did what you could.”

  “If I had known that he had some sort of lung problem, I might have been able to do more.”

  “How could you have known that?” she asked. “You had so many patients. I’m just glad we only lost one.”

  Nora came over to join them.

  “Can we send any of those five home?” she asked.

  “I doubt they’d be able to walk all that way,” Kincaid said. “Let’s try to get some food into them, and then they can go tomorrow.” He looked at Grace. “Where can we get some soup?”

  “Annie!” Grace called.

  One of the ladies who had been volunteering came scurrying over. She was in her fifties, her gray hair in a bun that had been fighting a losing battle for two days now.

  “Annie owns her own café,” Grace said. “She closed it to come here and help.”

  “What can I do, Doctor?” Annie asked.

  “We’re going to want to get some food into these people,” he said. “Some soup, perhaps?”

  “I can bring it over,” Annie said. “I’ll just need some help carrying the pots.”

  “I think I know where to get you some help,” he said. “Come with me.”

  He took her out front with him. The crowd had withered down to about half of what was there when he arrived. Zack Tyler was still in the front, but he was no longer holding a torch.

  “Tyler!” he called.

  The man’s head snapped around, and then he slowly came forward.

  “You can come closer,” Kincaid told him. “It’s not smallpox.”

  “What?”

  “Not smallpox, I said,” Kincaid repeated.

  “Is it . . . something else?”

  “Yes,” Kincaid said, “it’s a virus that passes in a few days. Right now, I need to get some food into these people. I want you to pick out a couple of other men and go with this lady to
her café. You’ll be bringing back pots of food.”

  “Uh, into the church?”

  “Yes,” Kincaid said, “into the church. Now get moving.”

  “Come on,” Annie said to him. She looked around, took a deep breath, and said, “My first time out in the open in three days.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Tyler and two other men came back with Annie. They were carrying large steaming pots of soup, while Annie carried the bowls and spoons.

  “In that corner,” Kincaid said, pointing to where they had set up a table. “Let’s start feeding the first five, and then anyone else who can sit up and eat.”

  “Right,” Annie said.

  Nora, Maggie, and Grace each took a man and a pot around with them, and most of the patients turned out to be hungry. Annie and the other lady, named Pat, took time to feed the children.

  “They’re all eating,” Nora pointed out to Kincaid.

  “Good.”

  “Can we go?” Tyler asked. He and the two men still looked skittish.

  “Yes, you can,” Kincaid said. “And see what you can do about getting the rest of those people to go home.”

  “I will,” Tyler said. He and the other men left.

  Grace said to Kincaid, “You know, until you got here, I actually thought they were going to burn us out.”

  Kincaid took the sheriff’s badge from his pocket and said, “Luckily, I had some help.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Kincaid stayed one more night, and the next morning sent the first five patients home. He went to see the little girl in the hotel—Eddie’s niece, Lily—and found her improving. Her mother was very happy. Kincaid told her to get some food into the girl and take her home the following day.

  He went back to the church. A good number of the patients were sitting up and feeling better. The crowd outside was gone. But a man he didn’t know came into the church through the front doors and looked around.

  “Who’s that?” he asked Grace.

  “That’s our illustrious mayor,” she said. “Somebody must’ve told him it was safe to leave his house.”

  The mayor spoke to Annie, who pointed over at Kincaid.