Dodge City

by Randy D. Smith

  Anson tried to move but Coolman's limp body prevented him from being able to gain any leverage. Coolman was lifted away and McKnight looked into his eyes. "You alright, boy?"

  Anson started to get up. "I think so. I hurt my leg."

  "Let me take a look at it," McKnight ordered as Collier rushed to them.

  McKnight grimaced as he cut back the boy's pant leg. "Jesus! Collier, look at this."

  Anson looked down at his wound. "How? How did I get a stick stuck in my leg?"

  "That isn't a stick, Anson. It's your leg bone," Collier said calmly.

  The gray shattered point of his shin bone was sticking at an upward angle from his flesh. The wound was bleeding heavily and Anson trembled uncontrollably. He wanted to cry out but gritted his teeth and laid his head back onto the ground. He could feel tears rising in his eyes.

  Collier's voice was calm and reassuring. "Settle down, son, settle down. You're going to need to relax."

  Anson nodded and tried to relax.

  "Coolman's dead, Mr. Collier," Mapes said softly.

  Collier looked toward Coolman's body. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, sir. He took a horn right in the middle of his back. He’s torn nearly in half.”

  Anson began weeping. Collier put his hand on the boy's chest. "I know, son. Don't worry yourself. You've got plenty of problems of your own."

  "What are we going to do about this child,” Tobe asked.

  "We've got to get him back to Dodge, pronto. If we don't get him there quick, we could lose this boy."

  "What do you want me to do?" Tobe asked.

  "Empty the supply wagon and prepare a place for the boy to rest. He'll never be able to ride. The pain will be too much."

  McKnight returned to Collier's side. "Who's a going to take him?"

  Collier shook his head and looked toward Tobe. "You'd be the only man that we could spare. Do you think you're up to it?"

  "I'd be glad to, Mr. Collier."

  Anson grimaced to fight the blinding pain in his leg. "You don't need to do this. I'll be alright."

  "Listen to me, Anson. We don't have any choice. If we don't get you to a doctor as soon as possible, you're going to lose that leg, if not your life."

  Anson was lifted onto one of the flatbeds and taken to the supply wagon. Collier and McKnight rode along. As the wagon bounced along the rough trail, Anson fought to keep from yelling. As Burton urged the team forward, Tobe rode in the back trying to steady the damaged leg. Once back at the camp, the men emptied the supply wagon and made up a bed of buffalo hides. Once Anson was laid out in the wagon, hides were set in around the leg to keep it steady. Anson lost track of time. He noticed movements around him but didn’t know who was doing what. Someone jostled him and he opened his eyes into the grim faces of Collier and McKnight.

  "There's a canteen right cher beside ya, Spud. So's ya can get a drink when ya need one. Try not ta move unless ya have ta."

  Anson nodded. He felt McKnight place his hand on the canteen to his left. "It's right cher. Don't lose track of it."

  Collier placed another hide over him. "Try to keep yourself covered. It's important you stay as warm as possible."

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Collier.”

  "Don't be sorry, son. You just took a bad deal of the cards. It could of happened to any of us. Drink plenty of water. You're going to have to be brave now, son. It's going to get rough as hell before Tobe gets you back to Dodge."

  Tobe climbed into the wagon seat. "I guess I'm ready now, Mr. Collier."

  Collier looked up in anguish, "Don't kill the team but drive them as hard as they can stand. Don't stop for nothing."

  Anson was given a handshake by both men and could hear words of encouragement from the crew. With a sudden jolt the wagon moved out across the prairie. Hours dragged by as the wagon rolled along. At first Anson just fought the pain but after a while, he realized he was fading in and out of awareness. Tobe said little from the wagon seat above and behind Anson's head. After some time, Anson began to chill. He gathered the hide closely about himself. Soon he was hot. His head felt like it was about to explode. He watched the sides of the wagon begin to warp in towards him into great long bows.

  "Tobe! Tobe! What's the matter with the wagon? What's happening to the sides of the wagon?"

  "Drink some water. Drink as much as you can hold," Tobe answered calmly.

  Anson reached for the canteen. He could barely feel it. He looked at his hand. His fingers were swollen to three times their size. He watched the canteen as it edged itself away from him.

  A voice came from the canteen. It was a small, evil voice with a highpitched tone. "He, he, he, you'll never catch me!"

  Anson slammed at the canteen with his fist. "Don't you do it! Come here! Now!"

  The canteen smiled and laughed, "He, he, he, you'll never catch me!"

  "Tobe! Tobe! I can't catch the canteen! It's teasing me!"

  "He, he, he, you'll never catch me!"

  "Oh, God, Tobe! Make it stop! Make it stop!"

  The canteen grew arms and legs. A hideous face laughed as the canteen sat upon the distorted boards of the warping wagon sides.

  "You're not real! You can't be real!”

  "He, he, he, you can't catch me!"

  "Shut up! Do you hear me? Shut up!"

  "He, he, he, you can't catch me.....can't catch me....can't catch me....catch me...catch me....catch me ....catch me......catch me."

  CHAPTER XVI

  A gentle breeze drifted through laced white curtains beside a small table next to the bed. The curtains were softly drifting against a lamp on the table. The lamp had a dome top with the chimney rising up from the center. It was a white decorated with blue flowers. Below the lamp was a small porcelain figurine of a nude reclining on her side. Anson realized he was awake. The large pillows under his head felt good. The bed was clean and smelled of lilacs. He started to move but a dull pain in his left leg caused him to freeze. He batted his eyes and slowly the memory of the injury returned to him. He grimaced as he tried to adjust to a more comfortable position.

  "So, you're awake now."

  Anson turned his eyes in the direction of the voice. A small form was seated beside him, holding his hand. "I guess so... Where am I?"

  "You're in my room."

  As his sight cleared he could make out the form of the small whore, Emmy. "What am I doing here?"

  She smiled. "No place else for you to stay. We insisted when we found out who you were."

  "Who's we?"

  "Big Sally and me. Who do you think?"

  "Where's Tobe?"

  "He went back several days ago."

  "Several days ago? How long have I been here?"

  "Two weeks, Anson. You've been here two weeks."

  "What? How can that be? I was just..."

  Emmy rose from her chair and placed her hands on the front of his shoulders. "You were just about dead. Now relax while I get the doctor. He said he wanted to examine you when you woke up."

  Anson grimaced and she scolded. "There. You see. You're going to get that leg flared up again."

  Anson relaxed. He thought for a moment. He was afraid to ask but he didn't want to look. "Do I still have a leg?" he asked.

  Emmy smiled and gently stroked his cheek. "Yes, Anson. You still have your leg."

  He began to softly weep.

  "I know. You rest here while I get the doctor,"

  In a moment she was gone. Anson gained control of himself and watched the curtains gently blowing against the lamp.

  Big Sally entered the room. "How do you feel, honey?"

  "I'm alright. My leg hurts a little."

  She bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'd hope to shout, honey. You been through quite a time."

  Emmy returned with the doctor. He bent down and looked into Anson's eyes through horn-rimmed spectacles. He smelled of carbolic. "I'd have never thought it. I just didn't think he would make it.”

  "I told ya, Doc. All he needed w
as some loving care."

  "You ought to give up whoring and go to nursing, Sally. You've got a real talent for it."

  "I've got a talent for both, Doc. The whoring just pays better.”

  The doctor smiled and looked into Anson's face. "You're lucky, boy. I was all for cutting that leg off. Would have except for the fact some old nigger and a couple of whores threatened to end my career permanently if I did."

  "I don't know what to say."

  The doctor peeled back the covers on the bed exposing Anson's swollen leg. It was bandaged and held in place with splints. "Don't say anything. Just thank God you haven't developed blood poisoning. I'd have had no choice then."

  Emmy stepped to the other side of the bed. "He operated on that leg for over two hours. We thought you were going to die from the shock."

  "When? I don't remember."

  "Nature's way," the doctor mumbled. "It was nature's way for you to handle the pain. I just never thought it would work."

  "Am I going to be all right?"

  The doctor shook his head. "Boy, I honestly don't know. I set that leg the best I could. It looks good but I honestly don't know how much value it will be to you. I can tell you one thing. You better plan on being here for quite a spell. It's going to be a while before you'll be running any foot races."

  "But who's going to pay? I don't have any money."

  Big Sally laughed. "Pay? You don't need to worry about that, honey. That's the least of your worries. No member of Abe McKnight's crew ever has to worry about anything while they're at Big Sally's."

  The doctor removed the splint and the bandages as gently as he was able. Anson was horrified as he looked at the badly bruised and swollen leg. A long scar across his shin was stitched shut with black thread.

  "It doesn't look good, does it, Doc?"

  "It looks wonderful, lad. I wouldn't have believed it would be doing so well. By all rights this leg should be rotten. The chances of saving it were a hundred to one." He looked at Emmy. "You say you've been washing it daily?"

  Emmy nodded. "Yes, sir. I've been giving it an alcohol bath every time as well."

  The doctor sat back in his chair. "I'll have to remember that. Normally it's best to leave things alone and treat the wound with a poultice. But what you've done here is nothing short of amazing."

  "Like I said, Doc, nothing like a little loving care," Big Sally said beaming.

  The doctor rose from his chair and wiped his hands on a towel beside the table. "There's little more I can do for now. I'll just leave this lad in your care and come back in a couple of days to check things out. Notify me immediately if you suspect any problems."

  Emmy nodded. "Yes, sir, I will."

  "You're a very lucky young man. By all rights you should be dead or a cripple. You'd better thank God for your good fortune.”

  Anson smiled and looked at Emmy. "Looks like I need to thank more than just him."

  The doctor slipped on his coat. "Yes. I believe you should. Good night, all."

  The doctor and Big Sally left the room. Emmy set about immediately soaping up a pan of water. Anson watched her calmly. He realized he had never really paid any attention to a woman doing anything other than his mother when he was little.

  "I guess I do owe you an awful lot."

  "Nonsense, I'm happy to do it." She brought the pan to the edge of the bed and gently bathed the wound. "I hope this doesn't hurt too much.”

  Anson watched her as she worked. It did hurt some but he enjoyed the attention enough to put up with it. "No, it's fine."

  "The old black man said you and another fellow were gored by a buffalo. That must have been a frightening experience."

  "Didn't have time to be scared. It was over before I realized what was happening."

  "He said the other fellow was killed."

  Anson turned his head toward the window. "Yes, he saved my life."

  "Was he a good friend?"

  "A better friend than I realized. I really didn't know him that well. But he threw himself between me and the buffalo. If he hadn't I."

  "You've changed, Anson. You seem so much more grown up."

  "Do I? I don't feel any more grown."

  "You even look more mature. Was it rough out there?"

  Anson thought of all he had experienced; the two renegades, Adobe Walls, the Llano, the death of Coolman. He had changed. His whole outlook had changed without him realizing it. "No, I wouldn't say it was rough. I guess....I guess it was the death. All that death. The buffalo by the hundreds. I saw two men killed then what happened to Coolman and me."

  "Maybe you're just tired," Emmy said kindly.

  "No, it isn't that. I guess I never really had to face death like that before. Oh, I've hunted and helped with the butchering on the farm, but I had never really seen so much death. I never thought I could die. I mean I knew I could die but I never knew how easy it was to die."

  Emmy stopped caring for the wound. She watched Anson as he talked. His eyes were seeing visions of the past. He was on the Plains. She felt sorry for him. She wanted to hold him. At that moment she felt as though she loved him. "Anson, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drag up bad memories."

  Anson smiled at her and reached to take her hand. It felt good. It was warm and giving. "No, you didn't drag up old memories. I was just thinking about what you said. I guess I have changed."

  Emmy felt Anson squeeze her hand. It was a squeeze of affection. The touch of an equal and a friend. "I think I like the change, Anson. I like the change very much."

  Anson looked into her eyes. The dullness was gone. There was a glimmer in them he had not seen before. He thought about what he was experiencing. He knew what it was but he would never say it to anyone. Always before he had thought of himself as a boy. It was different now. From this moment on Anson Jones was a man.

  CHAPTER XVII

  By his own reckoning, Collier had to be at least twenty miles from McKnight's position. After the loss of Coolman and Anson Jones three weeks earlier, the crew was shorthanded but there were no replacements to be found. It was increasingly difficult to find any large concentrations of buffalo so they decided to split into two groups for more efficient hunting. McKnight took Stub Moore and Bugs Burton and worked his way to the west while Collier led Axoll Mapes and Tobe Washington to the east.

  Collier eased himself over the top of a rise to get a better shooting position at a group of thirty animals. He had spotted them from a distance but was unable to get very close until the group had meandered into the small creek valley. It was open country and the buffalo were extremely wary. Too wary to Collier's way of thinking. They were being hunted by someone else. Collier reasoned the only other hunters that would be active this far out would be Indians. Collier told himself to be as cautious but a lone hunter was always vulnerable. The report of the rifles would carry for miles and it was almost impossible for Collier to conceal himself. If he was discovered his only strategy was to try to outrun them. He had a good horse and his Remingtons gave him superior range. From a high point he could hold a small band at bay by simply outshooting them. It was risky but the odds didn't seem that much against him if he used his head.

  He settled on a small rise about two hundred yards from the animals and prepared to shoot. He left his horse hobbled at the base of the rise about fifty yards away and wasn't concerned about a sneak attack because of the empty horizons in any direction. He would take as many of the animals as possible and if lucky, his twoman crew could have the animals skinned and be out of the place long before dark. He set up his shooting sticks and leveled the older of his two rifles on a large black cow. If he could down her with his first shot he might be able to take several more individuals before the small herd scattered. Two hundred yards was not an easy shot so Collier took care determining wind direction and range. He took a hand full of dirt and allowed the mixture to trickle from his hand carefully noting how much of it was carried away by the breeze. He elevated his Venier sight to his two hundred y
ard setting then aimed about two points to the right of the animal to account for the breeze coming from that direction. He didn't like shooting from that distance and wished he had gone ahead with the purchase of the 10X optical scope sights he had seen in Dodge City. He set the back trigger and carefully eased his finger toward the hair trigger. He took a breath and let it half way out, carefully sighting his gun on the dark shape of the cow. His finger barely touched the front trigger when the gun went off and bucked in defiance. He scooped up his spyglass and focused on the cow. He braced his elbow against the ground to hold the glass as steady as possible. The cow was standing humped shouldered with her head down. A spray of blood flew from her mouth. He turned his glass toward two younger cows working their way toward the black cow, curious about her reaction and the odor of blood. Collier put down his glass and rolled back the block of his rifle ejecting the spent cartridge casing. He reached to a small pile of cartridges on the ground beside him and put a fresh round into the breech. As he closed the block he leveled the rifle and fired. The small cow to the right immediately went to her knees. Collier urgently retrieved a third cartridge. He had to drop the third cow before she became alarmed. She turned her attention to her companion standing broadside. Again the rifle boomed. Collier grabbed his glass. She was staggering. "Three for three. I may get a stand out of this yet," he said.

  Collier reached for another bullet when he caught a glint of light out of the corner of his eye. He put the rifle down and picked up his glass. A tight feeling grabbed at his belly as he slowly scanned the horizon. There were at least a dozen and maybe more riders resting their ponies about a mile to the southwest. He steadied himself for a closer look. "Damn. Cheyenne. They must be.” He could feel a cold sweat forming along his brow. It was a large party and they were looking in his direction. He eased his glass down and placed it in the case. He retrieved his equipment and eased down the rise. He crawled for several yards trying to stay below the horizon. When he felt it safe he jumped to his feet and ran toward his mount. It took only seconds to remove the hobbles and put one of the rifles into the scabbard. As he swung into the saddle and reined up his horse he looked for the Indians. Braves were riding hard in his direction. He thought that Mapes and Washington had to be fairly close. The three of them could fort up at the wagon and try to hold them off. He spurred his gelding, leaned forward in the saddle and looked over his shoulder. He couldn't see clearly but knew the braves were following. It was impossible to tell if the party was gaining or not. The gelding jumped a badger hole and surprised Collier. He shuddered as he thought of the animal falling. He was pleased the gelding was horse enough to avoid such a wreck.