Doc Ch. 13

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, Iwantyou 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.