Doc Ch. 12

"I still say it ain't right, you having three wives, when most around here don't even have one. There's not enough women in these parts to go around."

Sour grapes over too few women – that was the basis for almost all of his bigotry. I'd heard it yesterday, too, from the drunk.

"That's not my problem. This is Indian land by treaty! You have no right to anything without their permission, whether it's prospecting for gold, settling a ranch or taking up with their women! If you want a wife of your own, you should go find one. Don't be giving me any backtalk about mine."

"I don't want any squaw and end up with a bunch of half breed kids. It just isn't fair that there ain't no white women that will come around these parts."

"If you feel that way why do you stay? Still, I'm not surprised! If all the men around here are like you, no decent woman, no matter what race she is, would want to have anything to do with mean-spirited jerks like you."

Insults rolled off him like water off a duck's back.

"This is where the gold is. I mean to make my fortune and head back east before the snow flies."

"And you think you're going to do that by working in a restaurant?"

"I'm just doing this to give me a grub stake. Then I plan to go out and stake a claim."

"Well good luck on that. Most come back broke; but many die, too. Some try to stay out over the winter and end up freezing to death from the cold because they have no idea how to live out in the open.

"Then there is always trouble with the Indians. You and the other prospectors have got the Sioux stirred up. You come on their land uninvited, start tearing it up, killing off all the game and then you get mad at them because they try to protect what is theirs.

"If that ain't enough, then there's the outlaws that always seem to follow wherever there are prospectors and rob them for their poke. If you're going to go out, then you had better be prepared to be killed by either Indians or bandits."

I couldn't believe how naïve this fool was! He didn't have a clue! He was full of the greenhorn's bravado and braggadocio, but he had no better idea of how to survive in the goldfields than I did at understanding women!

"I'm not scared of either. They come around me, I'll blow their stinking heads off. I'm going out well armed, so they had best beware of me. I had two friends that went out last week and no one has seen or heard of them since. We suspect they might have been killed by Indians. That's why they passed along that Indians can't be served in any place here in town."

"Was one of your friends tall with brown hair and the other thin with sandy hair?"

"That sounds like them. Have you seen them anywhere?"

"I buried them. The Baxter brothers robbed and murdered them and then tried to make it look like it was done by Indians."

"How do you know it wasn't done by Indians?"

"After they robbed them, they shot them with arrows with Crow markings, not Sioux. They're under arrest at the courthouse right now. I just came from there. The men who searched their room found things that had belonged to all the missing miners and a bow with Crow arrows."

"Those dirty bastards! They should just hang them from the nearest tree!"

"I know those two dead men were friends of yours, but everyone needs a fair trial. Even if we did find enough evidence that the Baxters will most likely hang, it has to done legally. They won't be lynched."

"But we got no law here – just a US Marshal that covers all the way down to Fort Laramie and a circuit judge. They are both away more often than they're here."

I showed the waiter my badge.

"I'm the law here now, and there will be no lynching as long as I'm around. I will be on a regular patrol around the local area from now on. Judge Mitchell will be around a lot more too. He's in town now, and he will be staying at least until the Baxters have been tried.

"No matter how guilty they are, those men are entitled to a fair trial by a jury of their peers. If they're found guilty, then the sentence will be carried out legally. I find anybody trying to take the law into their own hands, they will be the ones that hang.

"Judge Mitchell and I represent the Law around here, and that Law says everyone is to be treated fairly. That includes the Indians. If you treat them fair, I'll leave you alone. If you don't, I'll run you out of town, and have the Law on my side. I'll say it again: be they white man or Indian, everyone is equal in the eyes of the law. Forget it at your peril."

"I thought you were the new doctor, not the marshal? Does that mean that you will be here all the time?"

"Not all the time. I will be traveling from town to town, but I will not be far away and should be back at least every other week, maybe sooner. Seeing as I'm the only doctor and lawman in this area, I will need to keep moving around."

My family had long since finished eating and were waiting for me. Strangely enough, I had managed to eat while I talked. I placed my fork on my empty plate and stood up. The waiter seemed a lot less antagonistic now. I guess all he needed was someone to vent his frustrations on.

"Now, since we're done eating, I need to get to Deadwood to check on some medical problems there. I should be back in a few days. You might want to put the word out to the rest of the miners that there better not be any thoughts of a lynching. Judge Mitchell will be looking for a jury, too."

My family and I left the restaurant and walked over to the stable where we had put up our horses. The livery people helped us saddle up. Standing Bear proved his worth. He did not need to be told to help. He just pitched in. Many hands make light work and soon we were ready to leave. We mounted up and started the long ride to Deadwood.

We made good time and arrived in the early afternoon. We stabled our horses and asked for directions to the general store. When we reached the store, I introduced myself and my family to the storekeeper.

"I am the new doctor in the area. I'm also a deputy US marshal. I'll be making rounds of all the local towns doing both. I'm most concerned that people get to know there's a doctor in these parts now. Is there any way that the word can be spread that I am a doctor and that I will be in the area every couple weeks?"

The storekeeper was more than happy to put the word out.

"Pretty nearly everyone in town and the local ranches is in here at least once a week. I'll tell everyone who comes in. Tell the man at the livery stable and between us, we'll soon spread the word around. It's good to have a doctor nearby again. I'll spread it around that you're a marshal, too. We've needed a regular lawman for a long time."

"Thanks, that'll help a lot. While I'm here, what do you have in the way for medical supplies? If I can get them from you, it cuts down on how much I have to carry with me, and lets me get more locally if I run out."

He did not have near as much on hand as the storekeeper in Hill City. He did carry all the usual supplies, though – grain alcohol, rolled bandages, and an assortment of patent medicines such as headache powders, salves and ointments.

"Do you have a room you can let me use or rent to me where I can see patients?"

"I'm sorry, Doc. I really don't have any extra rooms. You might try at the Grand Central Hotel. It just opened and they might have a room they'll rent as a doctor's office."

"That's OK. Do you mind if I leave my ladies and my boy here to browse around? Don't be afraid to put the boy to work. He's young, but he's a good worker.

Standing Bear's chest puffed out proudly when I said he was a good worker. Dawn fairly beamed when I praised her – uh, OUR son.

"I have to see someone at the Oasis Saloon on a medical matter, and I don't want to take them into a place like that. A saloon is no place for a young boy or gentle ladies. When I get back, we'll check out the hotel."

"No problem, Doc. They're welcome any time. I'll put the young lad to work if I need him." He ruffled Bear's hair playfully and handed him a stick of candy. He might not work Bear very hard, but I bet he'd spoil him...

I got directions to the saloon from the friendly storekeeper. Carrying my small medical bag and looking every inch the 19th century doctor, I walked down to the Oasis Saloon. I stepped up to the bar and spoke to the bartender.

"I'm looking for the owner. Is that you?"

The man's phony smile would have done a used car salesman proud.

"Yes, I am. What can I do for you? You're new here aren't you?"

"I'm the new doctor in the area. I treated a man down in Hill City for a social disease – the clap. He said the only one he had sexual contact with was one of your girls."

"It can't be one of my girls! My girls are all clean."

"I'm afraid I have to check them to make sure. We can't have them spreading disease throughout the territory."

"You can go check them out, but it's going to cost you two dollars each."

I showed him my badge then looked thoughtful.

"I wonder... What would happen if the miners around here found out that all your girls were diseased?"

The man paled as his smile dissolved into a worried frown.

"Marshal it isn't right! I'm just trying to make a living. Ever since that damn Charlie Utter's wagon train brought Hickok, Calamity Jane, and those two whores Madam Dirty Em and Madam Mustachio, business has been terrible."

I told him. "I'm sorry to hear how bad business is, but I can't let somebody who's sick spread disease throughout the territory. I really do need to check your girls. I will show them how to check their customers so that this does not happen again. If one of your girls is sick like I figure, she will not be able to have customers again for at least 90 days. She won't be able to drink alcohol for 90 days either, because it will neutralize the medication. If that happens, it won't heal her affliction!"

"Ninety days! That's impossible! There is no way a working girl can afford to live in this town for 90 days without working!" he exclaimed.

"This place is pretty crowded. You can have her wait tables and hustle drinks. She just cannot have any sex, and she cannot take a drink herself. If I find out that she is still working and spreading this disease, I will have this place closed down and I'll also make sure the miners know why."

"Marshal that will cut way down on my profits! Isn't there some other way? I'm just barely making any profit as it is! There's got to be some other way. If you tell the miners they'll lynch me."

His whining about lost revenue didn't cut it with me.

"As crowded as this place is, I find it hard to believe that you're not making a decent profit. I happen to know that in the gold camps it's not the miners who make all the money. It's the storekeepers, saloons, and the whorehouses that make all the money, gouging it out of the miners with inflated prices and watered-down booze. Very few miners actually strike it rich, but anyone who opens a saloon or brothel does. So don't give me any bullshit about you starving and just barely getting by. I can see different."

Still acting as if I was taking the food right out of his mouth by treating his sick whore, he grudgingly led me upstairs. He pointed me into a room and returned to the bar. 'His girls' turned out to be just one woman who worked for him 'servicing' the miners.

She was a very plain woman. She looked to be in her late 40's or early 50's and was about 40 pounds overweight. How this woman ever made a living as a whore was beyond me. Then again, from some of the photos I had seen from this period, she wasn't all that unusual. The miners outnumbered women by hundreds to one. Like the sailor said, 'Any port in a storm...'

I told her. "Hello, my name is Clay Thomas. I am a doctor. I am here to examine you. It has been reported to me that you may have a sexual disease, and could be spreading it."

She seemed really scared by the news, and cried, "Doc I can't have a disease! I only came to work here because my husband died. I didn't have any money to take care of myself or feed my children. Around here a woman has no choice. You either turn to whoring, or you starve. If I have to quit, my children will die."

Despite her claim she was OK, she allowed me to examine her. Unfortunately, I discovered she did have gonorrhea. Although I was sure I'd find it, it still hurt to break the news to her, and I couldn't sugar coat it.

"You do indeed have the clap, but the good news is, I have a cure. It is rare, and I don't have a lot of it. To make sure it works properly and to make the best use of what little I have, you will have to follow my instructions exactly. I will give you this shot. It will cure the clap, but for it to work, you must abstain from sex for 90 days. You can't drink any alcohol at all for the next 90 days either.

"I can't emphasize this enough! If you do exactly as I say, you will be cured. If you have sex or drink alcohol before the 90 days is up, it will neutralize the medicine so it won't have any effect. And, if you keep having sex without it being cured, the disease will continue to spread."

The poor woman was distraught.

"But Doc, if I don't work, there's no money! What am I going to do to take care of myself and feed my children? I have to work!"

After I gave her the shot, I showed her how to check her customers for symptoms so she could avoid anyone who was obviously diseased. I also explained that she should insist her clients use French letters. But the best way to avoid the clap was to get out of the business by finding another job.

"I talked to the owner before I came to see you. He will continue having you work, but only waiting tables or hustling drinks until the cure is finished. You may not make as much as you do now, but there will be at least something coming in."

She looked panic-stricken and sobbed loudly.

"But I'm only making four dollars a day now! The prices around here, there's no way I can survive on any less!"

I was incensed! I knew the brothel owners took a huge portion of the girls' earnings, usually about 40 percent, but this poor woman was being exploited to the point of slavery! Even if she only had four clients a day, she should be making half as much again. I knew she probably serviced twice that many. She should be making a fairly decent living instead of just scraping by!

"I will talk to the owner to see about getting you more money. I'm sure I can convince him that it would be in his best interest to pay you more than what he does now!"

I left the unhappy woman and returned downstairs to confront the bartender.

"You tried to charge me two dollars just to see your girl without any sex. I'm sure you charge more than that for her regular services. Even if you do charge only two dollars, at those prices she'd be going steady all day. Yet you only pay her four dollars a day? You're robbing that girl! You need to pay her more for her work! You should pay her at least five dollars a day just for waiting tables and a commission on top of that if she hustles drinks for you, too! With these other places around here, when she's cured, she should be able to find good paying work easy! If you don't start paying her decently, I will see about shutting you down."

"I thought you came here as a doctor, not a marshal?"

"I did, but your attitude and your greed really sucks! You're making big money and so long as she continues to make you more, it doesn't matter to you that one of your employees is sick. Well, I have news for YOU! She got the clap from making money for you. Now that she's sick, it's your responsibility to make sure that she continues to have money to live on."

"Okay Doc. You made your point. I'll have her doing small things around her until she's well, and I'll make sure she's better paid."

"OK, I'll be watching. If you hear of anyone that needs me, I'll be over at the new hotel seeing if there's anyone else that needs my services. By the way, that will be $25 for the treatment of the girl upstairs."

"Twenty-five dollars! That's outrageous! I'm not the one that was sick!"

"No, but you're her employer. You're the one that made the money from her services, so you should pay formyservices."

He griped the whole time he was counting out the bills, but pay me he did. The threat of shutting him down and exposing him to the miners for spreading the clap was real. If he stepped out of line even once, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Threatening his extortionate income was the only thing his type understood.

I left the Oasis Saloon and went back to the store to rejoin my family. When I met up with them, I asked if they were hungry. They said they were, although I was sure Bear was full of candy. After thanking the friendly storekeeper for all his help, and making sure Bear thanked him separately for the sweets we left for the hotel restaurant.

We reached the restaurant and found a table. Once we were seated, an older black lady greeted us with a huge, friendly smile and a cheerful voice.

"Howdy, folks! Welcome to the Grand Central! I'm the chief cook and bottle washer of this here restaurant. Most everyone calls me Aunt Lou. What can I get you?"

"Hello, Aunt Lou. We'll have the special. Let me introduce us. I'm Clay Thomas, and these three lovely ladies are my wives, Running Deer, Little Doe, and Dawn. The little guy over there is my main sidekick Standing Bear. I'm a new doctor in the area just starting my practice. I'll be making my rounds among the local towns, and I'll be spending a few days each month in each of them. Would you happen to know of a place where I could see patients when I'm here?"

Aunt Lou beamed. "Your wives are truly lovely, Doctor. And your son is a real gentleman! He'll be a fine man when he grows up. I'm sure. We really need a doctor in these parts. I think you could probably use one of the hotel's rooms. Ask at the front desk. They'll be able to help you out, I'm sure. And, I'll make sure to spread the word that we have a new doctor in town."

We finished the meal of flapjacks, bacon, and beans. Bear did himself proud – I don't know where such a small boy could pack so much food. I was surprised when I was told that it cost us one dollar each for that simple meal. Mind you, the biscuits, which Aunt Lou claimed were her own recipe, were probably the best I have ever eaten – anywhere or any time. That alone made the price worth it. Still, I could tell from the prices here that I was not charging nearly enough for my own services.

After we ate, I went out to the front desk and asked to speak with the owner. The desk clerk said that he was the owner. I offered my hand and introduced myself. I couldn't resist a little tease of Bear – he was trying so hard impress me, he looked as serious as a heart attack.

"I'm Clay Thomas, and these gentle ladies are my wives. The stern-looking individual there is my main man, Standing Bear. He's decided that today is not a smile day. I am a new doctor in the area. I'll be in town for a few days each month as I make my rounds of all the local towns to see patients. When I'm here in Deadwood, I'll need a place for my family and I to stay, and where I can also examine and treat patients. My wives will be acting as my nurses and office assistants. The lady in the restaurant said you might be able to help me out with a room here."

The man's smile was sincere and his greeting to my family friendly. When he shook my hand, his grip was firm.

"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Thomas; Ladies; Mr. Thomas Jr. I'm Charles Wagner, the owner of this fine establishment. We need a doctor in these parts. I hope we can be of assistance to you. We normally get $10 a night for our rooms, but seeing as you will be a steady customer, I can knock that down to five dollars a night, or $50 a month, whichever is better for you."