Medicine Wheel

by Ron Schwab

  “You’re fortunate I had some. It’s rather hard to come by, and my inventory of human medications is a bit skimpy.”

  Her face was swollen and had turned to a massive blue and purple, but her ribs, while deeply bruised, seemed to have withstood the blows quite well. He knew that rib injuries could be particularly painful and long-lasting, but she walked with little stiffness and no complaint. Tough lady.

  After the doctoring they joined Cam and the kids at the supper table, where Pilar and Cookie had put together a spread of beef ribs, mashed potatoes and refried beans, the latter evidently a concession to Pilar’s Mexican heritage. The valiant Cam was actually something of a fussy eater and not that fond of Mexican food. Pilar spoiled him most of the time. A delicious flan followed the main course, and Thad noticed Cam was not discriminatory when it came to dessert. Thad would have enjoyed a bit more time with precocious, eleven-year-old Sarah and Ben, who was four years younger with his father’s flair for the stage, but Cam rose from the table and suggested Thad and Kirsten join them in the study.

  Assembled at Cam’s massive oak desk, Cam said, “I’ve arranged for Dr. Roberts to come out here tomorrow to examine Kirsten. We need a second evaluation of her injuries in the event her case goes to trial.”

  “I understand that,” Thad said. “I assume you’re aware the bruising will be more vivid tomorrow?”

  “The thought had occurred to me.”

  “She’s doing remarkably well for what she’s been through. Someone will need to remove the stitches in a week or so.”

  “Pardon me, gentlemen,” Kirsten interrupted, “I’m in attendance at this little meeting, and I don’t appreciate the two of you talking about me like I’m a dumb monkey, and Cam, you can get your ass out of here . . . I want to talk some business with the Doc.”

  “You asked if you could have a meeting in the study, so I just assumed—”

  “Wrong assumption. I don’t want to pay for your time for this business. If we need a lawyer, we’ll talk to your father.”

  Cam was obviously baffled and somewhat taken aback. Thad knew he was not accustomed to this lack of deference, and he could sense the racing of his brother’s mind, probably coming to the conclusion he had a loose cannon of a client, who would need to be disarmed soon. But not now. Cam got up. “Let me know if you need me . . . but I won’t hold my breath.”

  Cam closed the door as he left the room, and Kirsten turned to Thad, “I pissed him off, didn’t I?”

  “I would say so.”

  “He’s so damned bossy.”

  “I’d strongly advise that you listen to him when it comes to your case.”

  She nodded. “I will. I just want him to know that he’s not going to lead me around like a mindless idiot. I had six older brothers, and I learned early you have to push back sometimes with the male species.”

  “It appears to me you learned very well.”

  “Well, I guess I’d better get down to business.”

  “I have to admit I’m a little curious.”

  “It’s about Clem Rickers’ half section.”

  “You mentioned that.” Thad knew all about the 320 acres, which included nearly 40 acres of Big Blue bottomland with rich, fertile soil that was hard to come by in this hilly, rocky country. The south quarter section was all prime, tallgrass prairie, a rancher’s paradise. The crop land was all located in the north quarter along with a bit less than sixty acres of grass. The balance of the north quarter was essentially trees and wasteland with a few nearly impassable bluffs, one of which flattened out into a broad mesa that had a special meaning to him.

  “You know the place?”

  “More or less.”

  “Clem wants to sell the land pretty bad.”

  “He hasn’t owned it more than four years. Why does he want to sell?”

  “He doesn’t own any other land within five miles. With all the fences going up, that’s a long way to drive cattle to and from pasture every season. He didn’t even run cattle on the grass this season and didn’t plant a seed on the crop ground.”

  “I did notice that. I thought it was strange. You can’t turn a profit that way.”

  “The old fart’s past eighty. He came out to this country with the Free-Staters almost thirty years ago. He loved the Flint Hills, but his wife hated it here and went back to Ohio, taking their two nearly grown daughters with her. He let all but one or two of his hands go, and he’s cutting his operation way back.”

  “So, what do I have to do with this?”

  “I want you to partner with me on the land.”

  Thad eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”

  “I worked out a deal with Clem before Max . . . passed away. I haven’t told Cam about this . . . I know I’ll have to . . . but Clem agreed to sell the whole thing for twenty dollars an acre. Close to robbery, but the south boundary’s less than a mile from my home section, and I figured someday I could link it all up.”

  It was an old story. Ranchers weren’t land hogs; they only wanted the land next to them. “I still don’t see where I fit.”

  “After selling off some of the yearlings and adding the rest of some money my dad left me, I could only come up with half of the $6,200. I think I could have taken out a mortgage for the other half, but Max would have had to sign the note and lien papers. He said he wouldn’t do it unless I put his name on the home section and another three hundred acres I own. I told him he could go to hell. I finally gave in and said we could own the Rickers land together. He refused and said it was all or nothing. That was the first time he beat the shit out of me.”

  “You do need to tell Cam about this. I’m not a lawyer, but I’ll bet Frank Fuller would love to know about this.”

  “I’ll talk to your brother first thing in the morning. But I came up with this idea that I’d talk to you and see if you’d be interested in going partners on the deal. We’d split the land some way.”

  “The bottomland’s on the north quarter . . . and the waste and buttes.”

  “Well, shit . . . take the south, but the south’s closer to my place. I just figured we’d each have the parcel that’s closer to our home places. And I’m not a farmer. I don’t give a damn about the bottomland.”

  “If . . . and I say ‘if’ we partnered, I’d want the north quarter section, so we don’t have differences on that score.”

  “You’re nuts. You’d be taking all the wasteland and the bluffs.”

  “And I’d have the bottomland.”

  She looked at Thad suspiciously and was silent for some moments. He met her gaze. “What?”

  “You said you knew about Clem’s land ‘more or less.’ I think it’s ‘more.’”

  “Alright,” he replied, “I do know something about the properties. And I like the bottomland. I’d lease it out on shares and get a cash crop to help pay for the place. And I don’t have enough cow-calf pairs yet to stock the pasture . . . I’d rent it out to you if you wanted.”

  “At least you’re starting to make some sense, Doc. But you’re still dancing around the truth. Please, don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining.”

  Thad sighed and shrugged. The woman was nothing if not insightful. “Okay, I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

  “I never thought that.”

  “I was just embarrassed to tell you my real reason for wanting the north quarter . . . it’s the buttes.”

  “You’re serious, I think.” She cocked her head to the side, looking at him quizzically.

  “I’ve spent some time at the top of one of the buttes over the years . . . a breathtaking view. I always thought I’d like to own it.”

  “That doesn’t make business sense, but, of course, you’re not telling me most of the story, whatever it is. But I’m pretty sure it’s none of my business. I wouldn’t mind seeing it sometime, though.”

  Thad was non-committal. If Kirsten Cavelle wanted to see the view, she was on her own.

  “So,” Kirsten asked, “wil
l you work with me on this deal if you can take the north quarter? I’m getting the parcel I want. I just want grass to fill up with Red Angus. My pastures are overstocked right now.”

  “Have you discussed this with Cam?”

  “I mentioned it. He thought I was insane to be even thinking about this right now. And he said it wouldn’t look good if it came out I was buying land right after I supposedly murdered my husband.”

  “That thought had occurred to me.”

  “I’ve got a plan.”

  Thad wasn’t certain he wanted to hear it. This woman was moving way too fast for him. She was beyond strange. He sighed—she seemed to leave him sighing a lot, he noted—“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the plan?”

  “You buy the entire half section. When this is all over, I’ll buy the south quarter from you. I’ll advance the money for my half. It will be a loan, and you can give me a note”

  “I can’t give you a mortgage if the bank makes the loan, and you don’t want anything on the public record. You won’t have any security. You’re taking quite a chance. How do you know you can trust me to pay the note or sell to you later?”

  “You’ve seen what happens to men that mess with me.”

  He looked at her in disbelief.

  “Oh shit. Don’t look at me like that. I’m joshing. You take things too seriously.”

  “I need to think about this. I don’t have any cash, and I’d have to find a lender. I assume you have your money lined up?”

  “Yes, I’ve got some inheritance from my dad left, and then I was going to have to sell off more cattle than I wanted anyway to pay your brother some up-front fees. Makes me wonder if he thinks I’m going to be around to pay his bill when they’re done with me.”

  Thad didn’t say so, but he wondered if she was going to be around to finish her part of the land deal and what would happen if she was not.

  “Well, I have to look into all of this. Give me a few days and I’ll let you know either way . . . are you certain Rickers will sell the land to me?”

  “As long as he knows I’m out, he’ll sell to you. He just wants to get the deal done.”

  “You will run this by Cam?”

  “Yes, first thing in the morning. One more thing.”

  “What is it?”

  “How’s Henry?”

  Thad smiled. “He’s fine, but he’s taken over my office. Thinks he’s in charge. I can’t sit down or he’s settled on my lap.”

  “Bastard. He’s loyal to his next meal.”

  15

  THE NEXT MORNING Thad was rousted out of bed before five o’clock with a pounding on his door. One of Jasper Shortridge’s young hands informed him that a first-calf heifer was having trouble calving over at the Circle JS. He lifted Henry out of his bed in spite of the cat’s protests, fed him a hunk of sausage, and then tossed him outside. Thad figured he could do some mousing the rest of the day and earn his keep. He didn’t seem inclined to abandon the place.

  Thad kept a half dozen saddle bags in his home office, each stuffed with supplies for specific veterinary tasks, and he grabbed the obstetrical bags before he saddled Cato and joined the cowboy, whose name he learned was Luke, and headed for Jasper’s. He was not all that pleased when Luke told him the heifer was calving in one of the pastures about five miles southeast of his ranch house but was relieved to learn that the patient was tied to a scrub oak tree. He decided he should just be glad they had her roped and tied.

  When he arrived, Jasper, a stocky, fair-skinned rancher in his mid-fifties, who seemed to have a perpetual sunburn, was pacing back and forth like an expectant father. His son, Junior, a younger version of his father, sat Indian-style in the grass nearby, puffing slowly on a just-rolled cigarette.

  Thad dismounted, nodded at the ranchers and walked over to the heifer. She was still on her feet and strong enough yet to strain against the rope. He noted she was a Hereford, but small and bred too young. Jasper ran a sloppy operation when it came to keeping young breeding heifers separated from the bulls until they were proper age and size.

  “I need a tail holder,” Thad said.

  Luke ran up and grabbed the heifer’s tail, hanging on tight as she commenced kicking. The tail holder helped by pulling the tail to the side and giving the vet a better view of the animal’s vulva so he could make an initial appraisal of the problem. More important, he helped by controlling the heifer’s rear-end and, with some luck, deterring a few kicks—a vet’s shins tended to be perpetually bruised.

  Thad saw two small hooves peeking through the swollen flesh of the vulva. He would usually expect to see the beginning of the calf’s nose at this stage—his guess was that the head was turned back, blocking exit from the womb. “Do you have a place close by where you can get some clean water? Do you have a bucket?”

  “No on both counts, Doc.”

  Thad stripped down to his waist and retrieved some short chains with narrow links Quincy Belmont had fashioned for him, as well as a bottle of bean oil he’d been using for lubricant lately. Quincy had also devised some cylindrical handles, each with a hook welded midway between the ends. Applying a generous helping of the oil to his hands, he moved in behind the heifer. “Hang on to that tail like your life depends on it, Luke.”

  “I’ll do my best, Doc.”

  Junior hadn’t moved since his arrival, although he had rolled and lighted another cigarette. Jasper, on the other hand, watched the proceedings intently. “You going to get me a live calf, Doc?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I think the calf’s head is turned back and that’s not good. And Mama’s not much more than a calf herself. You’re letting these heifers get bred too damn young, Jasper. You’re begging for calving trouble.”

  Unfazed by Thad’s scolding, Jasper asked, “What’s this going to cost me?”

  “Two dollars.”

  “Shit. I’ll go you double or nothing for a live calf.”

  “You’re on.” Thad began working his oily fingers into the heifer’s vagina and she reared and kicked, missing him by an inch. To his credit, Luke held on to the tail and soon had her under control. Thad’s arm was quickly buried to the elbow, his fingers probing, functioning as his eyes in the dark cavern. He began pushing the calf back the way it came, leaving some room to latch onto the nose and, both hands working now, got purchase and straightened the head.

  The calf moved forward and the nose and front feet poked through the vulva. The heifer strained and pushed mightily, bawling loudly with pain several times. Thad could see the route out for this calf was just too narrow. In spite of slick and bloody hands, he quickly hitched the chains to the front feet, and then hooked the handles onto the ends of the chains. “Junior, we need some muscle over here.”

  “Shit, I’m not no good at this stuff.”

  “Junior,” his father yelled, “Get your fat ass off the ground and lend a hand.”

  Mumbling to himself, Junior got up and stumbled over to the cow. Thad put the handles in his hands. “You just hold onto these and keep the chains taut, and put your weight into it and pull when I say so.”

  He put some more lubricant on his hands and began to slick the vulva and lower vagina to help ease the calf’s journey. He knew that one way or another he’d get this calf out, but he’d about given up on a live birth. Suddenly, the chains went slack. Thad turned his head and saw Junior lying face-down on the ground. He had fainted dead away.

  Jasper grabbed his son’s legs and dragged him out of the way and moved into Junior’s spot, picking up the handles, which Thad re-hooked to the chains. “He has trouble with blood sometimes. Helluva thing for a cattleman.”

  “Pull,” Thad said, “Steady, but hard as you can.” He kept working his fingers around the calf and felt it coming inch by inch. He got a grip on the legs and helped with the tugging. All at once, the calf shot out like a ball out of a cannon, knocking both Jasper and Thad to the earth. Thad jumped back up and drug the calf off Jasper’s legs and began clearing its mouth of t
he mucous and afterbirth and then pumping its rib cage vigorously. It coughed and took a few breaths.

  “Release the mother . . . she’s got work to do here,” Thad said to no one in particular.

  By this time Junior was on his feet and helping his father release the heifer. Thad grabbed his simple instruments and got out of the way. They all stood back and watched as the heifer scrutinized this creature that had caused so much pain. There was instant forgiveness, and she went over and began to lick her baby as it gathered the strength to get to its feet.

  “It’s a heifer calf,” Thad said. “If we’d had a big bull calf, we would have been at this for hours yet. And by the way, Jasper, you owe me four dollars.”

  He didn’t argue. “I’ll get a draft to you next week.”

  There was no reward, though, like bringing a live, baby calf back from the brink of death.

  16

  IT WAS STILL early in the morning, so Thad returned home to wash up and change clothes, deciding he needed to look respectable if he was going to make a visit to the banker. He didn’t see Henry but didn’t worry any. The tomcat seemed perfectly capable of looking after himself. He grained the three horses and turned Cato and the pregnant mare out to grass, saddling up the sorrel mare and nudging her south toward Manhattan.

  Aunt Nancy’s and Uncle El’s place was on the way, and Thad stopped by to get Uncle El’s thoughts on his plans. Aunt Nancy thought he could do no wrong—and he never wanted her to think otherwise—and he considered Uncle El very wise, even wiser than the Judge when it came to things ranching.

  The three sat down at the kitchen table after Aunt Nancy had set down a pot of coffee and a plate of spice butter cookies. This had been a ritual of many years, for this was the home in which Thad and his twin sister, Hannah, had grown to adulthood. He figured Aunt Nancy had reached her fifty-fifth birthday now, so that would put Uncle El at sixty years. They hadn’t changed all that much. Aunt Nancy was still a trim handsome woman with only a few streaks of gray in her almond-brown hair, and her twinkling, blue eyes radiated the same enthusiasm for life. She was a quiet woman, almost always calm and collected. To be near her was to feel warm and loved.