Sawbones

by John W. Steele

conclusion

Dorian stared at him, his eyes dull and distant. He poured a knock of whiskey and drained it. The doctor said nothing, and the trail boss continued to glare.

A blue mason jar sat on the hearth. At first glance, it appeared to hold what looked like quail eggs pickled in vinegar. Gaj noticed a brown iris that peered from a white globule. He gazed into the fire, and his throat contracted.

A young and pretty Indian girl appeared at the table. She wore a pinstriped pioneer dress with an extended hem that hung to the floor. In her hands, she held a tray with a bottle of wine and a chalice. Her head hung low, and she didn’t look at Gaj. She placed the goblet on the table, filled it, and set the bottle on the lace; her hands trembled. Before she left, she glanced at Gaj for a moment, her eyes wide and pleading.

Dorian poured a shot and slammed the bottle hard on the table. “Alyana, do ya need to taste the scourge again?” The girl shuddered and whisked from the room.

The cowboy remained still, his face hard like a wooden mask. He ran his tongue over his front teeth and blurted. “Ya got any grit, pilgrim, er are ya one of them bachelor brides?” His eyes remained fixed. “Yer call, Sawbones. What’re ya gonna do?”

Gaj lifted the wine to his lips, emptied the chalice, and set it carefully on the board. “I assure you I enjoy the feminine touch, sir. But that is not why you requested my services, is it? I admire your hospitality but, before we begin our feast, it would be prudent to understand your intentions. Do you have the gall to reveal your mind, or are you one of those simple fellows that prefers to spit forth words that have no purpose?”

The cowboy snickered. “Yer a smart man, ain’t cha, Sawbones. I learnt long ago smart men adore gold. Besides, ain’t nobody in these parts gives a prairie coal pie about what goes on out here. You’re in our house. Ya ought to keep that notion tucked in yer bonnet.”

Lily arrived at the table, smoothed her gown, and sat down. She looked hard at trail boss, and he leaned back in his chair. A bottle of champagne arrived, and Alyana filled her stem. “It’s so nice to have you with us, Doctor Baczek. This evening we’ll be dining on pheasant and white cake. But before we begin our banquet, Dorian and I have decided to lay our cards on the table.”

“That would be a splendid idea, Mrs. McBride. I’d be obliged to explore your intentions.”

Dorian picked up the revolver, opened the cylinder, spun the chamber, then snapped it shut and laid it back on the table. “We own half the county now, Sawbones. Ain’t nobody got the sand to fuss with us.”

“Is that so?” Gaj faced the widow. “Other than the Colonel, why did you call me here, Madam?”

Her eyes shifted. The cowboy folded his hands and rested his elbows on the table.

“We have a proposition for you, Doctor Baczek. My late husband made a fortune in the cattle industry but, as of late, the trade has gone to seed. With the riff-raff from the south that has emerged in the business, we’ve seen our profits decline. In the past, we earned twenty dollars a head at the market for a prime Longhorn, and now it has diminished to a mere thirteen dollars and continues to fall. But we’ve discovered a solution to our predicament.”

The trail boss stood up. He hung his pistol in the holster, and paced slowly at the end of the table. He started to speak, and Lily interrupted. Dorian scowled. “Shaddup, wench, I’m talkin’ now.”

The madam turned a deeper shade of red. She placed her hand to her throat, and fondled her necklace.

“They’s a fortune right here staring at us, Sawbones. We’ve been rounding up the redskin squatters on our land. Them flannel mouths up North pay hundred dollars gold for a healthy buck and near as much fer a handsome squaw. And them younglings, ya kin almost name yer price.”

Gaj took the bottle and filled his goblet. “How ingenious, a living gold mine confined like tadpoles in a pool. It sounds like a bonanza. And all of it concealed here in the middle of nowhere. I salute your enterprising wit.” He raised his glass and swallowed the contents.

Lillian lifted her flute and drank, then hurled it on the cobblestone, where it shattered. She cast an icy glance at her lover, her forehead knitted. “I control the finances in this house... drifter. It would be prudent for you to remember this. Sit down, Dorian.” The big man stood defiantly. “Sit down now!”

He walked to the chair and took his seat. They gazed at each other like hungry wolves. “And stop brandishing your weapon at the table; it’s uncouth. Give it to me!”

He pulled the pistol, pointed it at her, then smiled, spun it around, and handed her the grip. She took the gun and laid it on the floor beside her.

“Of course, Joshua was a tender-hearted man with no vision for the future,” said Lillian, slurring her words. “We had no choice other than to help nature along so that he could no longer stifle our progress.”

“I can set with that,” said Gaj. “It’s all quite interesting. But I cannot understand what part I would play in this enterprise.”

The cowboy looked at Lil; she nodded her head slowly. When Dorian spoke, it seemed he had gained a hidden flair for the dramatic. He opened his arms as though expounding on the qualities of a horse he had for sale.

“A wholesome Injun brings a boodle for our trouble. We need a man that knows a whole heap about doctoring. A feller that can do things like splint a bone, yank a tooth, lance a boil, a body healer of that design. The critter needs to be in apple-pie order for the market. Them close-fisted buzzards in the city won’t put any money into ’em.’ We need a helpmeet that knows how to hold his piece and garner a passel of gold doing it.”

Gaj sat back and placed his elbows on the armrests. “Well, of course, an enterprise of that nature would require the utmost secrecy. The manlier class of humanity agrees with this sort of thing. But it begs the question: how do you transport the specimen to market without attracting looky-loos?”

“Peculiar ya should ast that, Sawbones. That there’s the finest part of the skit. We bought us an Apache war chief, called Big Jim Crow. He’s a real curly wolf, he is. Rumor has it he tore the heart out of a warrior called Pontiac and ate it whilst it was still a thumpin’. And he came economical; three cases of whiskey and a cavy of saddle horses, and we owned him.

“My boys round up the savages and store ’em in that abandoned silver mine out near Vulture Pass. The Lubbock freight train passes through Apache Junction ever week. The boys load ’em in the cattle car, and Big Jim looks ’em over. He picks the ones he knows will bring the high stakes. He hands over the gold right there on the spot. Ain’t no haggling, and there ain’t no tattletales.”

Lily raised her arms and laced her fingers together behind her neck. Her voice took on a silky tone. “Can you not see the economy in this venture, Doctor Baczek? There is no roundup or need to guide the herd. No transport of merchandise in the filthy, dust-filled desert. No branding, no stampedes, no competitors. We’ve cut our crew in half and kept only our most loyal and dedicated hands. In the last year, we’ve garnered more money than we’ve made in the previous three back when Joshua stood in our way.” She winked. “My, but you’re a fine-looking fellow, aren’t you, doctor?”

“Thank you, Madam. What do you do with the merchandise Chief Crow discards?”

Dorian hammered his fist on the table. “Big Jim gets ’em. That was part of the haggle.”

“I see. This is all quite enticing. What sort of compensation would be administered for my services?”

Lily looked at the cowboy, and they shared a long, sustained look. She turned her head and faced the doctor. “We feel one thousand in gold Liberty Heads every month is an appropriate sum for performing your duties, Doctor Gaj. Of course, there will be perks and bonuses. She winked again.

The doctor sat forward and twirled the stem of the goblet in his fingers. “You have truly piqued my interest, Madam McBride, But I have a few stipulations that need to be addressed before I commit to this proposal.”

Lily batted her eyes. “Whatever you require, Mister Bodacious. Anything at all.”

The doctor stared into his chalice. “Of course, the past is obsolete. We have entered a new era. An eminent physician must be a natty dresser, a man of elegance and decorum. I will need suitable bib and tucker to establish my credibility. Black suits made of wool and silk are necessary to create an air of authority.”

“As many as you want, my dear Doctor Gaj. We’ll have them tailor-made.”

Gaj smiled, his crooked teeth fulgent in the glow of the oil lamps. “And we mustn’t forget the choke straps. Silk, in shades of sky blue and yellow, would be appropriate. A paisley vest or two would be bully!”

“Of course, my darling.”

“Our negotiations are nearly complete, my dear. One more stipulation comes to mind. I’ll require documents. Certificates are essential to establish credulity. Large ones, resplendent with scrolled letters, are most appropriate and create a sense of, shall we say, confidence.”

“I love it!” said the whore. “We have a printer at our service in Abilene, Doctor Gaj.”

“Yes, my dear, scrolled letters and Latin words written on parchment and embossed with a gold seal would be superb!”

Lily looked at the trail boss. “It’s economic, Dorian. How else could we accomplish this pursuit scotch cheap?” The cowboy remained still, like a man with a fist full of aces.

Gaj stood up. “Of course, if my demands are too high-minded, I’ll remove the Colonel from the premises and leave here now.”

Lily shot from her chair. Her drink tipped on the table. She grabbed his arm. “Of course not, Doctor Baczek. We feel that you’re the perfect match for the task. Your services at Broadhorn begin this very moment!”

The doctor returned to his seat. “It would appear we have an agreement, Lillian.” He winked at her. “It would be an honor to help rid you of the scourge that has infested your lands.”

“Exactly,” said Lily.

The trail boss scowled and nodded his head. “I’ll throw in. But ya better earn yer keep.”

“Splendid! An event of this magnitude requires a toast. I brought a glorious libation that will surely delight. It’s an elixir I use myself to endure the cold winters and the squelching heat of the desert. It’s called Absinthe. It truly is the nectar of the gods.”

Gaj dug into his bag, removed a flask, and held it to the light. “Isn’t she lovely? I believe the green fairy will be a thrill unlike anything you’ve known prior.”

The cowboy’s face came to life. “I heard of that one but never tried her. Let’s give her boot.”

Lily poured the contents of the water glasses into the punch bowl and set them in a row. Her eyes glowed with an orange flame. The doctor emptied the elixir evenly into each one. He took his glass and raised it.

“To health, wealth, and prosperity, my friends. May our time together be as lasting as it is bountiful.”

Lily lifted her drink and sniffed it. “Oh my, it has a delightful nose!”

They clinked their glasses and drank.

Dorian shuddered, and a tear drained down his cheek. “They’s a big snake in that bottle ain’t there, doc? It’s righteous. I do believe I’ll have another.” He held forth his glass.

Lily tilted in her chair. “Gracious me, this tonic makes me tingle all over.”

Gaj remained still.

The cowboy shook his glass. “I ast you if you got anymore green, Sawbones. What’re ya, deaf?”

Lillian dropped to the floor.

The doctor spit the contents of his mouth on the floor. He bent low and grabbed the pistol.

Dorian’s face wrinkled. “Why, you dirty rotten sonofabitch!”

Gaj stepped back. Dorian lunged forth. The bullet struck him in the knee. Dorian howled and continued his attack. Gaj shot him again on the other knee, and the cowboy collapsed on the rug.

* * *

When they awakened, they were naked. Gaj had secured them to the table with the rawhide straps he used to batten down a coffin in the bed of his wagon. A poker glowed red hot in the embers of the firebox.

Dorian roused and cried out, “I’ll kill ya... I knowed ya was a coy dog.” The doctor laid a napkin soaked in chloroform on Dorian’s face, and he ceased to protest.

Gaj took another swallow of wine and stared at the bodies. “It saddens me to do this,” he said, his voice contrite and haunting. “I vowed after the war that I would never again take a human life. And if I stand before God, I will say the same thing. But the inhumanity of your crimes cannot go unpunished. In a world, without justice, someone is required to do the Lord’s work.”

He removed the bone saw from his bag and held it in the firelight. Reflections of gold and crimson danced on the jagged blade. The doctor bowed his head.

“Thy will be done.”

* * *

The servant girls helped the doctor load Joshua’s body into the wagon. Tears filled their eyes, and they lamented at his passing.

Doctor Baczek pulled the pouch of coins from his pocket and handed it to Alyana. “I want you to care for the Widow McBride and her companion. Do not harm them.” He pulled another bottle from his satchel. “When they cry out in pain, give them a tablespoon, but no more, of this elixir. Three times daily will suffice. I shall return with the sheriff in due course.”

Alyana nodded her head. She pulled an envelope from the pocket of her apron, smiled, and handed it to the doctor. “Joshua give to me before they kill him.”

Gaj stuck the document in his coat pocket. Ruth snorted, and he journeyed with Colonel McBride back to Amarillo.

* * *

Cindy sat enthralled, her eyes shining. “That’s a cool story, Tim, but do you honestly believe it’s true? I mean, it seems everything is a fabrication today, even the past.”

“I know,” said Tim. “Wait here a second. I want to show you something.”

When he returned, he held a photograph in his hand. The picture was large, framed, and eerie. It appeared like a negative printed on a metal plate. He laid it on the table before her. “My father claims this is an old portrait of Lillian McBride and Dorian Guttmann.”

Cindy gazed at the tintype. A man and a woman sat in separate cane-back wheelchairs. They stared into space like disfigured zombies. Their faces were gaunt and haggard. Their clothing looked like burlap sacks sewn together with strips of rawhide. Their arms were severed at the shoulder, and their legs were missing below the knee. A nasty scar like a burn ran down the middle of the Dorian’s face from his forehead to his chin. A sign hanging above the door behind them read: “Brothers Boarding House.”

“They’re hideous,” Cindy said. “Whatever became of them?”

“Well, it seems when Granddad studied the contents of the document Alyana gave him, he discovered the Colonel had bequeathed his entire estate to the Indians. There was a court battle, and Lillian lost. My Dad says Judge Talcum wanted to abolish prostitution in Amarillo. He didn’t take kindly to her sordid reputation. The judge granted her a monthly stipend. The Widow McBride and her cowboy spent the rest of their days in the poorhouse.”

“That’s a weird tale, Tim. So weird, it’s hard to believe.”

Tim nodded his head. “I guess I’ll never know for sure if this story is true or not, Cindy. There’s no other record of what became of Lily and her cowboy after that. I do know that Granddad Baczek became the mayor of Amarillo, and he served in that capacity until he died.”

Proceed to Challenge 936...