Ralph Compton Frontier Medicine Read online

  “I’ll get him.”

  When Kincaid stepped out onto the porch the first thing he saw was the man with the gun. He was standing right in front of Doc Edwin, who was looking up at him.

  “Friend of yours, Doc?” he asked.

  “Not likely,” Edwin said. “Never saw him before five minutes ago.”

  The man, tall, in his thirties, with a pearl-handled Colt stuck in his belt, looked at Kincaid.

  “I suppose if this old codger ain’t Dr. Death, then it must be you,” he said.

  “Who’s asking?” Kincaid replied.

  “I am,” the man said. “The name’s Butram, Jed Butram. Some folks call me Kid Butram.”

  “I never heard of you,” Kincaid said. “Aren’t you a little old to be called ‘Kid?’ You must be my age.”

  “Got the name when I was younger,” the man admitted. “You know how these names are, they just . . . stick. You understand that, don’ ya, Doc?”

  “What do you want, Kid?” Kincaid said. “What can we do for you? Doc and me, we were just about to sit down to supper.”

  “Oh, I won’t keep ya,” Butram said. “I just wanted to make sure you was still in town and get a look at ya, that’s all.”

  “Why?”

  “I just wanna be able to see ya comin’ and know it’s you, is all,” Butram said.

  “Well, you’ve had your look,” Kincaid said.

  “Yeah, I have.” He looked at Doc Edwin. “Geez, what are you, ninety?”

  “Get the hell off my porch!” Doc said to him.

  Butram laughed, looked at Kincaid.

  “He’s got fire,” he said. “I guess I should be happy he ain’t Dr. Death.”

  “There’s no Dr. Death here, Butram,” Kincaid said. “And you heard Doc. Unless you’re feeling sick, you can go.”

  “I’m goin’,” Butram said. “But you’ll see me again, Doc. Count on it.”

  The man stepped off the porch, backed away down the walk until he reached the street, then turned and sauntered off.

  “He’s gonna be a problem,” Doc Edwin said.

  “Yeah, well,” Kincaid said, “let’s go and eat. And there’s no point in telling Maggie about this, is there?”

  “Maybe not,” Edwin said, as Kincaid helped him to his feet, “but she’s gonna find out anyway.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Over supper Kincaid discussed with Maggie the patients he had during the course of the day. Doc Edwin remained silent and ate. To Maggie’s great satisfaction, he had a second bowl of chili.

  “Now, goddamn it, I’m full!” he complained when he was done. “I was gonna lay down, but I’ll just go out on the porch again.”

  “I’ll walk you out, Doc,” Maggie offered.

  “I can make my own way!” he snapped, leaning on the table and standing up.

  “I’ll join you in a while,” Kincaid said.

  Doc nodded, waved, and walked out.

  “Another bowl, Gabriel?”

  “I’m not quite finished with this one, Maggie, but I tell you what. I’ll have another square of that corn bread.”

  She cut it for him and passed it over.

  “Thanks.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?” he asked. “When?”

  “When you went out to get Doc for supper,” she said.

  “I don’t know what you—”

  “It took you longer than it should have,” she said. “I heard more voices than just yours, and he was real quiet during supper. So what happened?”

  “How did you get to be so smart?” he asked.

  “I was born that way.”

  He soaked up some chili from his bowl with the corn bread and put it into his mouth. It was the best of each he’d ever had.

  “When I got out to the porch there was another man there,” Kincaid told her. “My age, with a gun in his belt that had a pearl handle.”

  “A gunman?’

  “Said his name was Butram, Kid Butram. Ever heard of him?”

  “No. Who was he looking for?”

  “Who do you think?” Kincaid said. “Dr. Death.”

  “Oh, Lord.”

  “He said he figured it wasn’t Doc, so it must be me.”

  “And?”

  “He said I’d be seeing him around, and he left.”

  “That was it?”

  “He just wanted to have a look, he said, and make sure I was still in town.”

  “You better talk to the sheriff tomorrow.”

  “I’m going to, first thing,” he said, “but it looks like what everybody had told me is going to come true. That name is not going away.”

  “Goddamn Carl Paris,” she hissed.

  “He was just doing his job.”

  “Ruining people’s lives is his job,” she said. “And he’s too drunk to ever know he’s doing it.”

  “What’s done is done,” Kincaid said. “I have to deal with what might happen next.”

  “You mean what’s going to happen,” she said. “This is only the first. There’ll be more.”

  “First,” Kincaid said. “I have to make sure this one doesn’t kill me.”

  “Maybe,” she said, “you need to move.”

  “I intend to,” he said. “I’m going to find my own place in town.”

  “No,” she said, “I mean to another town. Start over so they can’t find you.”

  “That wouldn’t do any good,” Kincaid said. “I just have to deal with it, Maggie.”

  She shook her head.

  “Two months and you’re sadly starting to fit in here, Gabriel.”

  “In what way?” he asked.

  “Your ego,” she said.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Kincaid sat next to Edwin on the porch, handed him a small whiskey.

  “No cheroot?” he asked.

  “I’m makin’ an effort,” Edwin told him. “Ain’t that what you want?”

  “Yes, it’s what I want, Doc,” Kincaid said. “That’s why it surprises me.”

  Edwin sipped his whiskey.

  “Whataya gonna do about this Butram fella?” he asked.

  “I’ll talk to the sheriff in the morning,” Kincaid said. “I thought this kind of thing went out of fashion years ago.”

  “Only for some people,” Edwin said. “Others haven’t been able to get it out of their system. I think it might finally fade once we get into the twentieth century, but that’s still gonna be a dozen or so years from now. Gladly, I won’t be around to see it. But for now, and the forseeable future, you’re gonna have to deal with it.”

  “Which I’ll do,” Kincaid said, sipping his own whiskey. He enjoyed sitting on the porch without that vile cheroot smoke floating around his head.

  “Still got that gun in your bag?”

  “I do,” Kincaid said.

  “Good.”

  * * *

  * * *

  In the morning Kincaid rose early, stopped at Doc Edwin’s door to listen to his breathing, then went to the kitchen where Maggie was seated at the table, in a robe, drinking tea.

  “You’re early,” she told him. “Breakfast is not for another hour.”

  “I’ll get breakfast while I’m out,” he said. “I want to stop at the sheriff’s office and get that over with. Then I’m going to look at a couple of places to rent.”

  “I’ll see you for supper, then?” she asked.

  “You will.”

  “I better!” she said, as he left the kitchen.

  He had put his medical bag by the front door the night before. He picked it up now, still unused to the extra weight of the gun inside. For a moment, he thought about leaving it, then decided against it.

 
The streets were empty, just starting to wake up, as he walked to the sheriff’s office. He knocked and entered, catching the man pouring himself a cup of coffee.

  “Sheriff Llegg,” Kincaid said.

  “Dr. Kincaid,” Llegg said. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “Very much,” Kincaid said. “I skipped breakfast to get over here early.”

  Llegg poured a second cup and carried it to Kincaid.

  “I have no milk or sugar,” he said. “I take it black.”

  “As do I,” Kincaid said. “Thank you.”

  Llegg took his own coffee to his desk. The office was large, with lots of space in spite of the oversize desk. The gun racks had no empty spaces. He could see the cells in the back, and they were all empty. The office was very clean, which surprised him.

  “This isn’t what I expected of a sheriff’s office out here.”

  “Out here?”

  “In the West.”

  “Ah . . . Well, I guess I got lucky. It’s big, and a woman comes in and cleans twice a week. Now, what can I do for you, Doctor?”

  “A fella named Butram came to Doc Edwin’s house last night,” Kincaid answered. “He said he was looking for Dr. Death.”

  “Butram?”

  “Jed Butram,” Kincaid went on. “Said he was known as Kid Butram.”

  “Known where?” Llegg asked. “I never heard of him.”

  “He had a pearl-handled gun in his belt.”

  “Oh, one of those,” Llegg said. “I wouldn’t worry.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “The showy ones rarely do anything,” Llegg said.

  “I wondered if you’d have a talk with him,” Kincaid said, “make sure he really is just a showy one.”

  “I tell you what,” Llegg said, “because we want our doctors to be happy—you and Doc Edwin—I’ll do just that.”

  “Thank you,” Kincaid said. “And thanks for the coffee.” He put it down on the desk, almost untouched. “I think I’ll go get some breakfast before I go to the office.”

  “Have a good day, Dr. Kincaid,” Llegg said.

  “I hope to.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Kincaid left the sheriff’s office and walked to the Sunflower Café. He had taken to eating there whenever he didn’t eat at Doc Edwin’s house. The waitress, Kate, made sure she was always the one who served him, and she treated him well. In the beginning he figured it was because he was sent by Maggie, but as time went on he felt she just liked him. And since she was a dozen or so years older than he was, it felt like a big sister way.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Maggie too busy to make you breakfast this mornin’?”

  “I got an early start,” he said, “left before she even finished her tea.”

  “Ah . . . ham and eggs?”

  “Am I that predictable?”

  “You know, you live in the West now,” she reminded him. “You should try steak and eggs.”

  “You talked me into it,” he said.

  She poured him a cup of coffee and said, “I’ll get right on it.”

  He drank two cups of coffee, not because it took long for his food to come, but because he liked it and needed it to wake up.

  She brought him his plate with a large steak, eggs, and spuds, and a basket of biscuits.

  “Wow,” he said, “this should hold me til lunch.”

  “You come right back here and I’ll take care of you,” she said. “That is, unless you have too many patients. I’m startin’ to hear good things about the new doctor in town.”

  “That’s good,” he said, “but today I have to find someplace new to live before I go to the office.”

  “Who’s kicking you out, Doc or Maggie?” Kate asked.

  “Neither,” he said. “I just think it’s time.”

  “Well, you really don’t have to look any further,” she told him.

  “Why’s that?”

  “There are some rooms available upstairs.”

  “I’m going to need more than just a room,” he said.

  “Are you gonna hang out a shingle?”

  “No, I’ll still be working with Doc Edwin, but I just need some privacy.”

  “Well, have a look upstairs. It’s more than one room and even has a kitchen.”

  “And would you be my landlord?”

  “Arnie, who owns this place, owns the whole building. You’d have to talk to him, but I can vouch for you.”

  “That’s really nice of you, Kate,” he said. “Can I get a look after breakfast?”

  “I have the key,” she said. “Just say when.”

  “I’m going to enjoy this first,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”

  “No hurry. I’ve got other tables.”

  She walked away and allowed him to enjoy his breakfast in peace and quiet.

  * * *

  * * *

  After breakfast Kate was too busy to take Kincaid upstairs to look at the rooms, so she just gave him the key.

  “The entrance is around the side,” she told him.

  He left, walked around, went up the stairs, and used the key to get in. She hadn’t told him the place would already be furnished. There was a sitting room, a bedroom, a kitchen, and—most importantly—an indoor water closet. It was very modern, but then so were the facilities in the café downstairs, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

  It was perfect.

  He went back downstairs to return the key.

  “What did you think?” she asked.

  “I’ll take it, if it’s available,” he said. “I’ll just have to talk to your boss about the price. You said his name is . . . Arnie?”

  “Arnold Franks,” she said. “He owns the café and a couple of other stores in town. I’ll be seeing him later. I can tell him you’re interested. Come back for lunch and I’ll tell you when you can meet him.”

  “This is so helpful, Kate,” he said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Hey,” she said, “I’m just glad there’ll be a tenant upstairs I really like.”

  “I’ll see you later,” he promised, and left.

  * * *

  * * *

  He got to the office earlier than expected, since he hadn’t had to look very long for a place to live. He had never found a place so quickly. He just hoped that he and Arnold Franks would be able to come to an agreement.

  It was a slow day, which thankfully meant nobody was sick and nobody had gotten hurt. He had one mother bring in her boy to have his cast removed, and another so Kincaid could check on the progress of her son’s broken arm. If it wasn’t for the little boys in town he might have been even less busy.

  The steak and eggs stayed with him well into the day, so when he returned to the Sunflower Café it wasn’t really for lunch, but to find out about the rooms.

  “Good news!” Kate told him when he entered. “I talked to Arnie and he said I should tell you it’s yours.”

  “How much does he want for rent?”

  “He said thirty dollars a month. Is that okay?”

  “That’s fine,” Kincaid said. “When can I move in?”

  “Whenever you like,” she said.

  “And the furniture?”

  “It’s all included.”

  “I can’t believe this happened so fast,” he said. “Thanks to you.” Impulsively, he hugged her, then realized what he was doing and stepped back. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “A little hug never hurt anybody. I’ve got to get back to work. Let me know when you’re moved in.”

  “It’s only going to take a couple of suitcases,” Kincaid said. “I’ll just have to go and tell Doc and Maggie I’m moving out.”

  “Did you w
ant a table for lunch?”

  “Uh, no, but if I can get a sandwich, I’ll take it with me.”

  “Comin’ up. Chicken?”

  “I am too predictable,” he said.

  * * *

  * * *

  When he got back to Doc Edwin’s house he told Maggie first. Initially, she wasn’t happy, but she relented a bit when she found out where his place was.

  “That’s marvelous,” she said. “Arnie’s a good landlord.”

  “And I can eat right downstairs,” he said, “even though there’s a kitchen.”

  “Oh yes,” she said. “God forbid you should cook for yourself.”

  “You wouldn’t want to eat anything I cooked,” he warned.

  “Well,” she said, “you can still eat here as often as you like.”

  “Thanks, Maggie,” he said. “I’m going to go and pack.”

  “Now?”

  “The place is furnished,” he said. “It’s ready for me to move right in.”

  “Are you going to tell Doc?”

  “Oh, sure, I’ll tell him before I leave,” he promised.

  “You can eat here tonight and tell him then.”

  “I’ll take my belongings over there and come back for supper,” he said. “That way I won’t have to move after dark.”

  “All right,” she said, “that makes sense.”

  Kincaid went to his room and opened his suitcase. As he packed it with his belongings, he looked around. It was the first place he had stayed when he came to Hays City. In two months he thought he’d learned quite a bit from Doc Edwin about dealing with the people there. At the same time, he thought maybe he’d passed along some new knowledge to the older sawbones, as well.

  He left the house with his two bags and, halfway to his new place, wished he had thought to take the doc’s buggy.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Over supper that night, when Kincaid told Doc Edwin he’d be moving out, the old man didn’t seem happy. But what he said was, “Well, it’s about time.”

  As usual, after supper, Doc Edwin went out to the porch.