A Deadwood Fan Fic
Title: A Debt Repaid! Part 2
Author:
pip_longfellow
Rating: PG13 (strong language, physical abuse, a hanging)
Fandom/Pairing(s): Doc Cochran (sorta)/OW
Lines:
Rose and Valerie screaming from the gallery say he must go free.
The judge does not agree and he tells them so oh oh.
from Maxwell's Silver Hammer, off Abbey Road
Warnings:This story, like the show I chose to write around, has extremely strong language. There is ALOT of cursing and some bigoted language ( from the same context used in the show itself). There are allusions to physical violence and abuse as well as a hanging
Disclaimer: I do not own the Deadwood show HBO does. I am simply a lover of all things old west and all things Brad Dourif. The historical facts found in this story are not wholy true, they are warped to impact the story line.
Summary: Doctor Amos Cochran gets a medical reprieve from his ever worsening tuberculosis, but at what cost.
I would like to thank
two_of_us_fic for this fun and enjoyable outlet. I would also like to thank anyone who reads this story and leaves feedback because I adore feedback. Thank you all again
The doors creaked on their hinges and Dan looked up. In walked a young man, no older then nineteen by the looks of him and dapper as hell. He reminded Dan of the dude from New York before he had had his unfortunate accident. So this was the boy who wanted a piece of Al? Dan laughed to himself and shot back the glass of rot gut in his hand.
“Kin I help you Sir?”
His voice was full of sarcasm and the young man was halted in his tracks.
“Sir? UH... I am just here to meet with Mr. Swearengen, if he isn’t too busy?”
Dan shook his head and quickly understood what Trixie had tried to explain to him. This hoople was all sugar and dumplins in a city that required piss and vinegar to survive. How could such a soft child as this get this far. Trixie had said he had come from San Francisco. How had he gotten over 14 thousand miles without dieing? There had to be more to him.
“Al is busy with EB right now. Here have a drink on the house.”
Dan slid the strongest rot gut he had down to the kid who caught it without a drop striking the bar.
“I haven’t ever had alcohol before.”
“Ain’t no time like the present.” Dan poured himself another shot, lifted it in difference to the kid and slugged it back. He looked back at the kid who shrugged and tossed the burning liquid down his throat.
No shiver, no burning gasp not even a watery eye, Dan was stunned.
“Hm, interesting flavor.” He handed Dan back the glass and reached his hand out to shake the stunned bartender’s hand.
Dan unconsciously reached out and the boy gripped his hand in a vice like hold as they shook.
“When d’ you think Mr. Swearengen might be free sir?”
“Did I hear the dulcet intonings of my own fucking moniker? Ah, kid, EB was just telling me about you come on up.”
The kid nodded and stepped to the stairs where he met EB coming down. He turned towards Dan and tipped his hat.
“Thank you for the drink Mr. Dority.”
He walked past EB who growled as he passed.
“Thank you for the kind introduction Mr. Farnum sir.”
“Kid I ain’t got all fuckin’ day for you to thank the whole of fuckin’ Deadwood get the hell up here.”
“Yessir.” He ran the rest of the way up the stairs and the door closed behind him like a knelling doom.
Dan sighed and threw back another slug.
“Poor fuckin’ kid.”
*******
“Shut the door behind you Kid.”
“Yessir.”
After the door shut the kid turned and stood like a sentry staring at Al like he was a messiah. In those few seconds Al took in the kid’s appearance. William Bell, Trixie had said his name was, and he was here to “Repay a debt” Al smiled a piranha smile and looked the kid over. Clean as a whistle, well at least he would look good in a pine box. New jacket and pants, new shirt and a bow at his throat, he had scrambled to get the hat off of his head and stood as if waitin in line for church on Sunday.
“Sit!”
The kid did as he was told and sat ramrod straight in his chair. The silence expanded until Al felt he would just kill the kid to hear him scream.
“Why are you here!”
The kid shook himself and began digging in his pocket. Immediately Al cocked his gun under the desk. The kid heard the click and paused in his rummaging his eyes looking questioningly at Al.
“Did I do something wrong sir?”
“Just you pull whatever you got in your fuckin’ pocket out slow and we should be alright.”
William pulled a sheaf of papers out of the pocket and held them out to Al his eyes not full of fear but full of disappointment.
“Put them on the fuckin’ desk and keep your hands on the table where I kin see them.”
He placed the two envelopes and sheaf of paperwork on the desk in front of Al and then lay his hands palms down on the desk before him. He looked up at Al questioningly and Al nodded and uncocked his revolver.
Al picked up his reading glasses.
“Not a fucking word!”
He opened the fat envelope first and his eyes narrowed as he pulled out eighteen crisp hundred dollar silver certificates. William swallowed hard but kept his eyes on Al’s face.
“What the hell is this?”
“I…uh… the gal wh…who asked me to bring ‘em to ya wrote a letter for you. Maybe it will explain things?”
“A letter huh, who the hell would write me a letter from San Francisco.”
Al opened up the second envelope and unfolded the paper. Inside a sweet smell struck his memory and he felt warmth flow over him. He began to read the flowery writing.
Dear Mr. Al Swearengen,
How do you write a letter to someone you have known all of your life but never met?
Hello, dear sir, my name is Elizabeth and I have sought you most of my life.
I was born 33 years ago in New Orleans. My father was a military officer and my mother was a prostitute. To make a long story short, they met and fell in love and married. Through my father my mother was able to become a proper woman and within a year of marrying they had me. From the day I was born my mother loved me as best as she could but she never forgave herself for leaving behind her son. She spoke to me often of him, how he was brave and strong, how she longed to find him again.
When I was four my mother died of consumption and in sorrow my father and I moved to Nevada. My father became an Indian agent for the Shoshone and worked between Virginia City and the reservation near the great Pyramid Lake. When I was 9 he died of an unknown disease. By the age of twelve I was sold out of a San Francisco Orphanage to Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hearst and I have worked for the prior for the last 21 years of my life.
Why do I tell you this? Not to garner pity, no, but to have you understand where and how I found out about you. You see it is my belief that you are the only son of Katie Swearengen, my mother. And if it is as I think, then I have at last found the son my mother lost.
I learned about you through the ramblings of Mr. Hearst and I have learned what my master has done to you and your town. With this package I send, God willing you receive it, I will attempt to right some of the wrongs he has committed.
First and foremost the money in the second envelope is sent to you as a feeling of consolation for both your missing digit and for the bravery your prostitute showed in the attempt on Mr. Hearst’s life, I can only wish she had succeeded, may she be commended to God. I know the money will not assuage your pain and anger at my master, and I do not wish such. Instead I hope to put a smile to your lips by telling you it was stolen from the proceeds of the mine he captured from the widow Mrs. Ellsworth.
The second package is a deed to a Hotel formerly owned by a Mr. EB Farnum known as The Grand Central. I commend its deed to you and pray that you have good use of it.
As I write I know that these will be my last words. I weep that I have not known you, dare I say it, Brother. I merely wish to convey our mother’s great love to you and to let you know that her thoughts turned to you even at her last breath. I hear the steps of the hangman’s noose closing on me, for theft from Mr. Hearst is not taken lightly. I will go to it with no fear for death is better then this half life I am captured in now. Goodbye dear sir, may we meet beyond the veil.
Elizabeth
Al’s face was stricken and the young boy sat curiously watching the elder’s face.
“A sister, I have a sister?”
“I am sorry sir?”
Al shook himself and looked at the boy as if he didn’t know where he had come from.
“The girl who wrote this, did you know her?”
“Yessir, we worked together for Mr. Hearst.”
“What happened to her?”
The boy’s eyes fell to look at his hands.
“After she gave me these papers and those I placed in the bank vault. She ran away from Mr. Hearst’s. It is my belief that he sent a posse out after her and that even now she is probably dead.”
His voice dropped as he spoke the last of the sentence.
“There is something wrong with that story kid.” Al looked the kid over but could not find a reason for him to hide things from him unless he believed Al was a Hearst supporter and in telling the whole tale it would condemn him to death as well. Al couldn’t fault his logic though he did fault the little shit’s bravery.
“ You and I are gonna have to talk about it a little more. You gonna be here in town for a while, I would hate to have to have my men ride out after you.”
“Yessir I intend to be here the rest of the week.”
“Good, we will talk later then. You can go.”
He stood slowly and lifted his left hand to place the hat on his head. He turned and moved to the door when Al looked at him again.
“Kid, I just don’t understand how you got tangled up in this. Who the hell are you?”
He paused at the door and turned. Al looked into those eyes and realized that there was more pain and comprehension in them then should be right for a boy of his apparent age.
“I ain’t no one sir.”
He pushed the brim of his hat up in a reverent motion and disappeared through the door leaving a thoroughly curious Al Swearengen behind him. Al moved his eyes back down to the letter in his hands but his eyes paused on the edge of his desk where a red stain was pooling. He stood and examined the stain. The shape of the kid’s small palm, it had the distinct smell of infected blood. Al unconsciously held his hand above the print realizing he had never seen a young man with such small hands. Slowly realization began to dawn and Al held the letter up close to his face breathing in the perfume, lavender and rose.
I weep that I have not known you, dare I say it, Brother… for death is better then this half life I am captured in now.
Al looked at the door and sighed shaking his head.
“Damnit, why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
*****
Johnny threw the side of beef on his shoulder and shrugged it down the street back to the Gem. As he drew close he saw a young kid standing near the entrance who looked lost.
“Kin I help you?”
“Oh yes, which way to Doctor Cochran’s home please?”
“Well his cabin is down at the end of chinks alley over yonder.”
“Thank you sir.” He tipped his hat and Johnny reached up unconciously to grab his own though he wasn’t wearing one.
Johnny walked into the Gem smiling and set the beef down.
“Johnny, you seen that kid just left?” Al suddenly shouted from his perch above the floor.
“Huh, uh yeah Al, I guess. The kid dressed all nice with the brown hat an all?”
“Yeah, I want you to see where he goes and report back to me.”
“He’s goin to the Doc’s cabin Al.”
“Make sure that’s where he’s goin Johnny.”
Al glared down at Johnny and Johnny raced out of the Gem.
Johnny was breathing heavy when he reached Chink’s alley. Fortunately he spotted his quarry talking to Wu. Suddenly Johnny realized the absurdity of the situation of someone actually communicating with the Chinese leader. For a few moments they babbled back and forth and Wu shook his head and then pointed down the alley to the doctor’s cabin. The kid bowed with folded hands and Wu, looking confused, bowed back. The kid moved down the alley and knocked on the cabin door.
A few moments later Johnny was back at the Gem looking just as confused as Wu.
“Well, did he go to the Doc’s?”
“Yeah Al, he did. Didja know he could talk Chinese? He was gabblin away with Wu.”
Al walked down the stairs and stepped up to the bar.
“There is something more to this kid then he says or seems.”
*****
“Doctor Cochran, are you available?”
Amos heard the gentle rap on his door and he stood up slowly from his bed and moved to the door. There stood William, dressed in Sunday best. He immediately pulled the hat off of his head and smiled at the ailing doctor.
“Hello William please come in.”
The Doctor led the way back to his small bed room where he pulled out an extra chair for his guest. William gazed around him in awe at the herbs hanging from the open beamed ceiling. He reverently brushed against the herbs and Cochran smiled at him and gave a gentle cough.
“Oh I am sorry sir, uh I mean Doctor. I just love looking at the herbs used in medicine.”
“Why don’t you sit down.” Doc Cochran made a motion to the extra chair and sat down on the edge of his own bed.
The kid set his hat on the floor as he sat on the chair before the doctor. Cochran looked up into those green eyes, worry written plainly in his own grey eyes.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened to your hand?”
The kid looked down at his hands and blushed crimson.
“Let me see it.”
With a sigh the kid’s left hand pulled the leather glove from his right. Cochran felt a shiver rake through his body as the blue fingers withdrew warped from the leather confines. Doc Cochran looked at the boy’s down turned face and then took the boy’s damaged hand in his. His fingers probed at the perfect square hole in the middle of his palm.
“How…how did this happen son?”
The kid laughed with a sad snuff.
“Does it really matter anymore Doctor? I haven’t been able to feel my fingers since it happened. I figure the only thing that can be done is to amputate. It wasn’t something I was looking forward to.”
“I might be able to do something for you. Why don’t you tell me who did this to you?”
Cochran rolled the sleeve up and found scars marking the pale arms. He didn’t mention them but moved back down to the palm and cleaned the wound with water. He shook his head and placed a salve over the wound binding it with clean linen. He then leaned back on his bed and looked at the young person before him who had stayed resolutely silent through the doctor’s probing.
“From the look of things it was done almost a month ago. Have you been getting dizzy lately?”
“Yeah a little. It stopped bleeding a couple of weeks back but it started again a day or so ago and it won’t stop. I figure I got a few days till I keel over.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that Doctor Cochran looked up worried at him.
“You want to die?”
The kid smiled again.
“I’m already dead doctor, my body just doesn’t know it yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“I…I died over twenty years ago.”
“So you are saying you are some kind of ghost or something?”
The anger and irritation finally broke out of Cochran’s chest and he began to cough.
“No sir. Please don’t get upset, please. Let me make you some tea or something.”
Doc’s jaws tightened in anger and the kid moved around the small cabin getting water and setting the pot over the small fireplace grate.
“I’m not a ghost. I just don’t have a life. I was hoping to live a little before I died and that’s why I am here.”
“You are going to try and kill Al Swearengen to feel alive? Are you insane boy?”
The kid turned around and gave the little doctor a quizzical look.
“Who said I was trying to kill Al Swearengen?”
“You did, you said you had a debt to settle with him.”
The kid smiled and shook his head. He untied the bow at his throat placed his coat over his chair and unbuttoned the top of his shirt.
“The debt I have to repay is to you Doctor. I wouldn’t try to kill Mr. Swearengen. You see… he’s my brother.”
Cochran looked up into the sad green eyes.
“I haven’t been completely truthful with you and I am sorry.”
“I don’t understand?”
“I know, I can explain, but first you have to open this package.”
The kid pulled a rectangular box out of his jacket pocket and set it down before Doc Cochran and turned to check on the water over the fire.
Cochran watched as the kid used useless fingers to roll up his sleeves. He had so many questions.
“So after I open this you will answer all of the questions I have?”
“Yes.”
The Doctor coughed and shook his head his fingers finding the rough paper wrapped around the box. He tried to untie the knot in the string around the box but it disintegrated in his fingers. He gently opened the wrapping and pulled back the paper. Inside was a black satin box with a United States Army emblem engraved on its surface. He sighed and opened the box. Inside was a medal of honor and a letter from President Lincoln. The words were almost illegible from folding and refolding but Doc Cochran could just make out the name of the medal’s honoree: Brevet Brigadier General Jon Hann Bell. Cochran felt his heart constrict.
“I knew this man in the war.”
“I know he used to talk about you all the time. He always regretted not finding you after the war. He said you deserved this more then he did because you saved his whole Brigade.”
Doc Cochran smiled wanly.
“He was the brave one… he was your father?”
“Yeah, he died when I was nine.”
“Wait hold on he couldn’t have been Al’s father he…”
“No we share a mother not a father. My mum was real young when she had… uh…my brother. But she used to talk about him all the time. Before she died she asked me to try and find him. It took me a while but… well here I am.”
“Where did you find out about Al?”
“Mr. Randolph Hearst, sir.”
Doc looked up at the kid’s hunched back.
“You work fer Hearst?”
The kid paused in his work as if thinking about the question.
“Not any more I don’t. I ran away from him after my last beatin’, which was when he gave me this.” He held up his bandaged hand.
“Beating? That implies more then just a mining pick through the hand.”
William turned, his eyes dancing merrily at the memory.
“Yeah I took a good lashing, my back felt like it was sliced to ribbons. Then he put the pick ax through my hand. An eye fer an eye he said.”
“An eye for and eye? Then you stole something from him?”
“Yeah, more ‘en he knew at the time I think or he would ‘a killed me then and there. I’d taken some of his old clothes, mine were right tatty. As I was coming back from the laundry he and his man Carl caught me an… well I got my beatin’ an’ Carl held me down while Mr. Hearst put his pickax through my hand, then they threw me in my room and locked the door. I figure they was planning on just forgettin’ me and letting me starve or bleed to death, whichever came first. Good thing I had been planning to run before then. I got through the window, hopped on a horse and got away.”
Doc Cochran stared stunned at the young boy before him. William poured hot water into two mugs and handed one to him as he sat back down and looked matter-of-factly into Cochran’s eyes.
Doc sighed and put the tea to the side.
“You gonna let me take a look at your back?”
William looked down at his tea.
“I’m sure it’s fine Doc.”
“Let me make that decision. Take off your shirt.”
William sighed and placed his tea to the side as well.
“Alright, but I have to tell you somethin’ else. First I ain’t no kid, I was thirty three years old this last spring. Second…” He began to unbutton his shirt and tears began to trickle down his face. “Second… my name isn’t William….it’s Elizabeth.”
Doc Cochran sat silently stunned as the shirt came off and he was looking at the tightly wrapped chest of a woman. The creamy white of her delicate neck was marred by white scars like worms beneath her skin. On her right shoulder he saw, as he stood to examine her, a strange bird branded into the flesh. It was her back that made him shudder. He brushed her long hair, longer then he had thought now that he saw the amount of it, over her shoulder and gasped at the damage. Above the bandage angry red marks criss-crossed each other. Without a word she removed the bandage from her body and leaned forward her arms covering her bare breasts. Doc had to close his eyes to the damage. Her back was ragged with long thin slices where a switch had been used so many times a number could not be reached. He had only seen such damage on the backs of the ex-slaves he had treated. He lay a gentle hand on her back and forcing himself to view this as a Doctor he inspected the ruddy flesh.
“I am going to put some ointment on this, it doesn’t look infected but…” He swallowed hard and went to wash his hands. He then grabbed a small vial from a shelf. He came up behind her, marveling at the idea of so much abuse accepted for so long. With a clean rag he wiped caked blood from her back and shoulders. She didn’t flinch but he felt her muscles tighten under his hand. Slowly, gently, he ran trails of salve down each perforation. Beneath each cut the ancient reminders of other abuses presented themselves beneath his fingers. Scar tissue ran like trails of Braille beneath the wounded flesh. By the time he was through Doctor Cochran felt an anger he had not felt for a very long time boil in his veins. He took the swatch of cloth from her and seeing it had been recently cleaned he helped her wrap her back up, this time less tight then before so that the angry wounds could heal better. He then turned to wash his hands so that she wouldn’t see the anger in his face.
“Why did he do this to you?”
“I told you Doc, I stole his clothes from him.”
“No, there is more here ‘en just one beatin’. He jus’ kept beatin’ on you day after day. Why?”
“I don’ know.”
He turned, drying his hands on a rag. He let his eyes wander to her and he saw her drag her clothes on ashamed. He stepped up to her as she turned away to pull the shirt on over her head. Doc placed a tender hand on her cheek and turned her face towards him.
“What that man did to you is not your fault. You shouldn’ be ashamed…”
“Oh I shouldn’t be huh? What the hell do you know Doc? You know how long I took those fuckin’ beatins? Twenty long fuckin years. From the day Mrs. Hearst died! I didn’t know when she bought me from the work house that it would be like this. She was good to me. Gave me a nice room to sleep in, told me what to do what not to do, and in return I kept her company with intellectual conversation. Then she goes and dies and I ain’t got no true job in the house, but do I get kicked to the snow? No! I get sent to live in the coal shed behind the kitchen where I am to aid everyone I can and if I so happen to ever find myself accidentally in Mr. Hearst’s view I get a whippin’. But see that ain’t how it played out. I was CALLED to see Mr. Hearst, I was CALLED to see his foremen. So every God Damned day I got some sort of beating.” She looked up at the Doctor tears flooding down her cheeks,
“Did you know Mr. Ellsworth? I did, I knew him from Virginia City. I had been there with Mr. Hearst for a couple of weeks when Mr. Ellsworth showed up. He had worked for the Mackay Mining company and had heard that Mr. Hearst was another good man to work for. He wound up saving the lives of hundreds of men when the explosion happened at the Yellow Jacket mine. He was a hero Dr. Cochran! So Mr. Ellsworth leaves Nevada and comes here and winds up married to a woman with a gold mine. So what happens, Hearst shows up and has Mr. Ellsworth killed. Why the hell did he have to die? Because a bigoted horse’s ass like Mr. Hearst says so! It ain’t right! When I found out about that I was so mad at him the beatin’s didn’t hurt no more cause all I could think about was how to get back at him. Then I hear him talk about some man he had problems with in Deadwood, some saloon keeper who’s man killed Captin’ Turner, and I hear a name, Swearengen. I had been waiting for that name for almost thirty years. And then I hear talk of this man loosing a finger to Mr. Hearst because Hearst feels he needs a lesson. I was so angry I refused to do something he asked me. After that beating I plotted my revenge. I would come here and find Mr. Swearengen, just to see him once, meet him. To repay Mr. Ellsworth I stole the deed to the Homestead Mine to give back to his Mrs. It was sheer luck that there was money and the deed to the Grand Central. Then he caught me with those clothes and he beat me and… I must have blacked out. When I came to I was layin on my floor and I couldn’t feel my hand. I guess that was when it hit me. HE had taken everything I had and now he wanted more? I felt an anger surge in me, an anger for Mr. Swearengen, for Mr. Ellsworth and his missus and finally for myself. So I did as I had planned to, bloodied and all, I broke the window in my room, grabbed what I had taken, stole a horse from the stables and ran. So forget not feeling ashamed. I deserved every scar on my back Doctor. I should have done this a long time ago.”
Doc Cochran unconsciously finished his tea, needing something physical to do to hide his anger at her treatment. He felt a sorrow overwhelm him, Ellsworth had been a good man who had not deserved to die. It was too bad Trixie had missed her mark when she had shot the son-of-a-bitch, Hearst. Cochran shook his head and felt tired in body and soul.
“I’m sorry.”
Elizabeth turned a small smile to the doctor and then turned back to the table where she took a green package out of her pocket and dumped the contents into a bowl.
“Its alright Doctor, you were bein’ kind, but shame ain’t something I kin wash away through absolution, even your absolution.”
Doc felt his eyes get blurry and the room started spinning.
“I’m getting dizzy, an tired, so very tired.”
She moved next to him a knowing smile in her eyes.
“ I must have given you a little too much Peyote.”
“WHAT?”
“Well it isn’t all peyote, its mostly herbs to make you sleep.”
“Why would you drug me?” Doc Cochran couldn’t help falling back on his little bed as the room began to spin.
She looked down on him and pulled his glasses from his face. She looked like a gauzy angel as she brushed a tendril of hair from his face.
“I’ve come to repay a debt Doctor Cochran.”
Fear gripped his chest as he smelt brimstone and lost consciousness.
Author:
pip_longfellow
Rating: PG13 (strong language, physical abuse, a hanging)
Fandom/Pairing(s): Doc Cochran (sorta)/OW
Lines:
Rose and Valerie screaming from the gallery say he must go free.
The judge does not agree and he tells them so oh oh.
from Maxwell's Silver Hammer, off Abbey Road
Warnings:This story, like the show I chose to write around, has extremely strong language. There is ALOT of cursing and some bigoted language ( from the same context used in the show itself). There are allusions to physical violence and abuse as well as a hanging
Disclaimer: I do not own the Deadwood show HBO does. I am simply a lover of all things old west and all things Brad Dourif. The historical facts found in this story are not wholy true, they are warped to impact the story line.
Summary: Doctor Amos Cochran gets a medical reprieve from his ever worsening tuberculosis, but at what cost.
I would like to thank
two_of_us_fic for this fun and enjoyable outlet. I would also like to thank anyone who reads this story and leaves feedback because I adore feedback. Thank you all again
The doors creaked on their hinges and Dan looked up. In walked a young man, no older then nineteen by the looks of him and dapper as hell. He reminded Dan of the dude from New York before he had had his unfortunate accident. So this was the boy who wanted a piece of Al? Dan laughed to himself and shot back the glass of rot gut in his hand.
“Kin I help you Sir?”
His voice was full of sarcasm and the young man was halted in his tracks.
“Sir? UH... I am just here to meet with Mr. Swearengen, if he isn’t too busy?”
Dan shook his head and quickly understood what Trixie had tried to explain to him. This hoople was all sugar and dumplins in a city that required piss and vinegar to survive. How could such a soft child as this get this far. Trixie had said he had come from San Francisco. How had he gotten over 14 thousand miles without dieing? There had to be more to him.
“Al is busy with EB right now. Here have a drink on the house.”
Dan slid the strongest rot gut he had down to the kid who caught it without a drop striking the bar.
“I haven’t ever had alcohol before.”
“Ain’t no time like the present.” Dan poured himself another shot, lifted it in difference to the kid and slugged it back. He looked back at the kid who shrugged and tossed the burning liquid down his throat.
No shiver, no burning gasp not even a watery eye, Dan was stunned.
“Hm, interesting flavor.” He handed Dan back the glass and reached his hand out to shake the stunned bartender’s hand.
Dan unconsciously reached out and the boy gripped his hand in a vice like hold as they shook.
“When d’ you think Mr. Swearengen might be free sir?”
“Did I hear the dulcet intonings of my own fucking moniker? Ah, kid, EB was just telling me about you come on up.”
The kid nodded and stepped to the stairs where he met EB coming down. He turned towards Dan and tipped his hat.
“Thank you for the drink Mr. Dority.”
He walked past EB who growled as he passed.
“Thank you for the kind introduction Mr. Farnum sir.”
“Kid I ain’t got all fuckin’ day for you to thank the whole of fuckin’ Deadwood get the hell up here.”
“Yessir.” He ran the rest of the way up the stairs and the door closed behind him like a knelling doom.
Dan sighed and threw back another slug.
“Poor fuckin’ kid.”
*******
“Shut the door behind you Kid.”
“Yessir.”
After the door shut the kid turned and stood like a sentry staring at Al like he was a messiah. In those few seconds Al took in the kid’s appearance. William Bell, Trixie had said his name was, and he was here to “Repay a debt” Al smiled a piranha smile and looked the kid over. Clean as a whistle, well at least he would look good in a pine box. New jacket and pants, new shirt and a bow at his throat, he had scrambled to get the hat off of his head and stood as if waitin in line for church on Sunday.
“Sit!”
The kid did as he was told and sat ramrod straight in his chair. The silence expanded until Al felt he would just kill the kid to hear him scream.
“Why are you here!”
The kid shook himself and began digging in his pocket. Immediately Al cocked his gun under the desk. The kid heard the click and paused in his rummaging his eyes looking questioningly at Al.
“Did I do something wrong sir?”
“Just you pull whatever you got in your fuckin’ pocket out slow and we should be alright.”
William pulled a sheaf of papers out of the pocket and held them out to Al his eyes not full of fear but full of disappointment.
“Put them on the fuckin’ desk and keep your hands on the table where I kin see them.”
He placed the two envelopes and sheaf of paperwork on the desk in front of Al and then lay his hands palms down on the desk before him. He looked up at Al questioningly and Al nodded and uncocked his revolver.
Al picked up his reading glasses.
“Not a fucking word!”
He opened the fat envelope first and his eyes narrowed as he pulled out eighteen crisp hundred dollar silver certificates. William swallowed hard but kept his eyes on Al’s face.
“What the hell is this?”
“I…uh… the gal wh…who asked me to bring ‘em to ya wrote a letter for you. Maybe it will explain things?”
“A letter huh, who the hell would write me a letter from San Francisco.”
Al opened up the second envelope and unfolded the paper. Inside a sweet smell struck his memory and he felt warmth flow over him. He began to read the flowery writing.
Dear Mr. Al Swearengen,
How do you write a letter to someone you have known all of your life but never met?
Hello, dear sir, my name is Elizabeth and I have sought you most of my life.
I was born 33 years ago in New Orleans. My father was a military officer and my mother was a prostitute. To make a long story short, they met and fell in love and married. Through my father my mother was able to become a proper woman and within a year of marrying they had me. From the day I was born my mother loved me as best as she could but she never forgave herself for leaving behind her son. She spoke to me often of him, how he was brave and strong, how she longed to find him again.
When I was four my mother died of consumption and in sorrow my father and I moved to Nevada. My father became an Indian agent for the Shoshone and worked between Virginia City and the reservation near the great Pyramid Lake. When I was 9 he died of an unknown disease. By the age of twelve I was sold out of a San Francisco Orphanage to Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hearst and I have worked for the prior for the last 21 years of my life.
Why do I tell you this? Not to garner pity, no, but to have you understand where and how I found out about you. You see it is my belief that you are the only son of Katie Swearengen, my mother. And if it is as I think, then I have at last found the son my mother lost.
I learned about you through the ramblings of Mr. Hearst and I have learned what my master has done to you and your town. With this package I send, God willing you receive it, I will attempt to right some of the wrongs he has committed.
First and foremost the money in the second envelope is sent to you as a feeling of consolation for both your missing digit and for the bravery your prostitute showed in the attempt on Mr. Hearst’s life, I can only wish she had succeeded, may she be commended to God. I know the money will not assuage your pain and anger at my master, and I do not wish such. Instead I hope to put a smile to your lips by telling you it was stolen from the proceeds of the mine he captured from the widow Mrs. Ellsworth.
The second package is a deed to a Hotel formerly owned by a Mr. EB Farnum known as The Grand Central. I commend its deed to you and pray that you have good use of it.
As I write I know that these will be my last words. I weep that I have not known you, dare I say it, Brother. I merely wish to convey our mother’s great love to you and to let you know that her thoughts turned to you even at her last breath. I hear the steps of the hangman’s noose closing on me, for theft from Mr. Hearst is not taken lightly. I will go to it with no fear for death is better then this half life I am captured in now. Goodbye dear sir, may we meet beyond the veil.
Elizabeth
Al’s face was stricken and the young boy sat curiously watching the elder’s face.
“A sister, I have a sister?”
“I am sorry sir?”
Al shook himself and looked at the boy as if he didn’t know where he had come from.
“The girl who wrote this, did you know her?”
“Yessir, we worked together for Mr. Hearst.”
“What happened to her?”
The boy’s eyes fell to look at his hands.
“After she gave me these papers and those I placed in the bank vault. She ran away from Mr. Hearst’s. It is my belief that he sent a posse out after her and that even now she is probably dead.”
His voice dropped as he spoke the last of the sentence.
“There is something wrong with that story kid.” Al looked the kid over but could not find a reason for him to hide things from him unless he believed Al was a Hearst supporter and in telling the whole tale it would condemn him to death as well. Al couldn’t fault his logic though he did fault the little shit’s bravery.
“ You and I are gonna have to talk about it a little more. You gonna be here in town for a while, I would hate to have to have my men ride out after you.”
“Yessir I intend to be here the rest of the week.”
“Good, we will talk later then. You can go.”
He stood slowly and lifted his left hand to place the hat on his head. He turned and moved to the door when Al looked at him again.
“Kid, I just don’t understand how you got tangled up in this. Who the hell are you?”
He paused at the door and turned. Al looked into those eyes and realized that there was more pain and comprehension in them then should be right for a boy of his apparent age.
“I ain’t no one sir.”
He pushed the brim of his hat up in a reverent motion and disappeared through the door leaving a thoroughly curious Al Swearengen behind him. Al moved his eyes back down to the letter in his hands but his eyes paused on the edge of his desk where a red stain was pooling. He stood and examined the stain. The shape of the kid’s small palm, it had the distinct smell of infected blood. Al unconsciously held his hand above the print realizing he had never seen a young man with such small hands. Slowly realization began to dawn and Al held the letter up close to his face breathing in the perfume, lavender and rose.
I weep that I have not known you, dare I say it, Brother… for death is better then this half life I am captured in now.
Al looked at the door and sighed shaking his head.
“Damnit, why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
*****
Johnny threw the side of beef on his shoulder and shrugged it down the street back to the Gem. As he drew close he saw a young kid standing near the entrance who looked lost.
“Kin I help you?”
“Oh yes, which way to Doctor Cochran’s home please?”
“Well his cabin is down at the end of chinks alley over yonder.”
“Thank you sir.” He tipped his hat and Johnny reached up unconciously to grab his own though he wasn’t wearing one.
Johnny walked into the Gem smiling and set the beef down.
“Johnny, you seen that kid just left?” Al suddenly shouted from his perch above the floor.
“Huh, uh yeah Al, I guess. The kid dressed all nice with the brown hat an all?”
“Yeah, I want you to see where he goes and report back to me.”
“He’s goin to the Doc’s cabin Al.”
“Make sure that’s where he’s goin Johnny.”
Al glared down at Johnny and Johnny raced out of the Gem.
Johnny was breathing heavy when he reached Chink’s alley. Fortunately he spotted his quarry talking to Wu. Suddenly Johnny realized the absurdity of the situation of someone actually communicating with the Chinese leader. For a few moments they babbled back and forth and Wu shook his head and then pointed down the alley to the doctor’s cabin. The kid bowed with folded hands and Wu, looking confused, bowed back. The kid moved down the alley and knocked on the cabin door.
A few moments later Johnny was back at the Gem looking just as confused as Wu.
“Well, did he go to the Doc’s?”
“Yeah Al, he did. Didja know he could talk Chinese? He was gabblin away with Wu.”
Al walked down the stairs and stepped up to the bar.
“There is something more to this kid then he says or seems.”
*****
“Doctor Cochran, are you available?”
Amos heard the gentle rap on his door and he stood up slowly from his bed and moved to the door. There stood William, dressed in Sunday best. He immediately pulled the hat off of his head and smiled at the ailing doctor.
“Hello William please come in.”
The Doctor led the way back to his small bed room where he pulled out an extra chair for his guest. William gazed around him in awe at the herbs hanging from the open beamed ceiling. He reverently brushed against the herbs and Cochran smiled at him and gave a gentle cough.
“Oh I am sorry sir, uh I mean Doctor. I just love looking at the herbs used in medicine.”
“Why don’t you sit down.” Doc Cochran made a motion to the extra chair and sat down on the edge of his own bed.
The kid set his hat on the floor as he sat on the chair before the doctor. Cochran looked up into those green eyes, worry written plainly in his own grey eyes.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened to your hand?”
The kid looked down at his hands and blushed crimson.
“Let me see it.”
With a sigh the kid’s left hand pulled the leather glove from his right. Cochran felt a shiver rake through his body as the blue fingers withdrew warped from the leather confines. Doc Cochran looked at the boy’s down turned face and then took the boy’s damaged hand in his. His fingers probed at the perfect square hole in the middle of his palm.
“How…how did this happen son?”
The kid laughed with a sad snuff.
“Does it really matter anymore Doctor? I haven’t been able to feel my fingers since it happened. I figure the only thing that can be done is to amputate. It wasn’t something I was looking forward to.”
“I might be able to do something for you. Why don’t you tell me who did this to you?”
Cochran rolled the sleeve up and found scars marking the pale arms. He didn’t mention them but moved back down to the palm and cleaned the wound with water. He shook his head and placed a salve over the wound binding it with clean linen. He then leaned back on his bed and looked at the young person before him who had stayed resolutely silent through the doctor’s probing.
“From the look of things it was done almost a month ago. Have you been getting dizzy lately?”
“Yeah a little. It stopped bleeding a couple of weeks back but it started again a day or so ago and it won’t stop. I figure I got a few days till I keel over.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that Doctor Cochran looked up worried at him.
“You want to die?”
The kid smiled again.
“I’m already dead doctor, my body just doesn’t know it yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“I…I died over twenty years ago.”
“So you are saying you are some kind of ghost or something?”
The anger and irritation finally broke out of Cochran’s chest and he began to cough.
“No sir. Please don’t get upset, please. Let me make you some tea or something.”
Doc’s jaws tightened in anger and the kid moved around the small cabin getting water and setting the pot over the small fireplace grate.
“I’m not a ghost. I just don’t have a life. I was hoping to live a little before I died and that’s why I am here.”
“You are going to try and kill Al Swearengen to feel alive? Are you insane boy?”
The kid turned around and gave the little doctor a quizzical look.
“Who said I was trying to kill Al Swearengen?”
“You did, you said you had a debt to settle with him.”
The kid smiled and shook his head. He untied the bow at his throat placed his coat over his chair and unbuttoned the top of his shirt.
“The debt I have to repay is to you Doctor. I wouldn’t try to kill Mr. Swearengen. You see… he’s my brother.”
Cochran looked up into the sad green eyes.
“I haven’t been completely truthful with you and I am sorry.”
“I don’t understand?”
“I know, I can explain, but first you have to open this package.”
The kid pulled a rectangular box out of his jacket pocket and set it down before Doc Cochran and turned to check on the water over the fire.
Cochran watched as the kid used useless fingers to roll up his sleeves. He had so many questions.
“So after I open this you will answer all of the questions I have?”
“Yes.”
The Doctor coughed and shook his head his fingers finding the rough paper wrapped around the box. He tried to untie the knot in the string around the box but it disintegrated in his fingers. He gently opened the wrapping and pulled back the paper. Inside was a black satin box with a United States Army emblem engraved on its surface. He sighed and opened the box. Inside was a medal of honor and a letter from President Lincoln. The words were almost illegible from folding and refolding but Doc Cochran could just make out the name of the medal’s honoree: Brevet Brigadier General Jon Hann Bell. Cochran felt his heart constrict.
“I knew this man in the war.”
“I know he used to talk about you all the time. He always regretted not finding you after the war. He said you deserved this more then he did because you saved his whole Brigade.”
Doc Cochran smiled wanly.
“He was the brave one… he was your father?”
“Yeah, he died when I was nine.”
“Wait hold on he couldn’t have been Al’s father he…”
“No we share a mother not a father. My mum was real young when she had… uh…my brother. But she used to talk about him all the time. Before she died she asked me to try and find him. It took me a while but… well here I am.”
“Where did you find out about Al?”
“Mr. Randolph Hearst, sir.”
Doc looked up at the kid’s hunched back.
“You work fer Hearst?”
The kid paused in his work as if thinking about the question.
“Not any more I don’t. I ran away from him after my last beatin’, which was when he gave me this.” He held up his bandaged hand.
“Beating? That implies more then just a mining pick through the hand.”
William turned, his eyes dancing merrily at the memory.
“Yeah I took a good lashing, my back felt like it was sliced to ribbons. Then he put the pick ax through my hand. An eye fer an eye he said.”
“An eye for and eye? Then you stole something from him?”
“Yeah, more ‘en he knew at the time I think or he would ‘a killed me then and there. I’d taken some of his old clothes, mine were right tatty. As I was coming back from the laundry he and his man Carl caught me an… well I got my beatin’ an’ Carl held me down while Mr. Hearst put his pickax through my hand, then they threw me in my room and locked the door. I figure they was planning on just forgettin’ me and letting me starve or bleed to death, whichever came first. Good thing I had been planning to run before then. I got through the window, hopped on a horse and got away.”
Doc Cochran stared stunned at the young boy before him. William poured hot water into two mugs and handed one to him as he sat back down and looked matter-of-factly into Cochran’s eyes.
Doc sighed and put the tea to the side.
“You gonna let me take a look at your back?”
William looked down at his tea.
“I’m sure it’s fine Doc.”
“Let me make that decision. Take off your shirt.”
William sighed and placed his tea to the side as well.
“Alright, but I have to tell you somethin’ else. First I ain’t no kid, I was thirty three years old this last spring. Second…” He began to unbutton his shirt and tears began to trickle down his face. “Second… my name isn’t William….it’s Elizabeth.”
Doc Cochran sat silently stunned as the shirt came off and he was looking at the tightly wrapped chest of a woman. The creamy white of her delicate neck was marred by white scars like worms beneath her skin. On her right shoulder he saw, as he stood to examine her, a strange bird branded into the flesh. It was her back that made him shudder. He brushed her long hair, longer then he had thought now that he saw the amount of it, over her shoulder and gasped at the damage. Above the bandage angry red marks criss-crossed each other. Without a word she removed the bandage from her body and leaned forward her arms covering her bare breasts. Doc had to close his eyes to the damage. Her back was ragged with long thin slices where a switch had been used so many times a number could not be reached. He had only seen such damage on the backs of the ex-slaves he had treated. He lay a gentle hand on her back and forcing himself to view this as a Doctor he inspected the ruddy flesh.
“I am going to put some ointment on this, it doesn’t look infected but…” He swallowed hard and went to wash his hands. He then grabbed a small vial from a shelf. He came up behind her, marveling at the idea of so much abuse accepted for so long. With a clean rag he wiped caked blood from her back and shoulders. She didn’t flinch but he felt her muscles tighten under his hand. Slowly, gently, he ran trails of salve down each perforation. Beneath each cut the ancient reminders of other abuses presented themselves beneath his fingers. Scar tissue ran like trails of Braille beneath the wounded flesh. By the time he was through Doctor Cochran felt an anger he had not felt for a very long time boil in his veins. He took the swatch of cloth from her and seeing it had been recently cleaned he helped her wrap her back up, this time less tight then before so that the angry wounds could heal better. He then turned to wash his hands so that she wouldn’t see the anger in his face.
“Why did he do this to you?”
“I told you Doc, I stole his clothes from him.”
“No, there is more here ‘en just one beatin’. He jus’ kept beatin’ on you day after day. Why?”
“I don’ know.”
He turned, drying his hands on a rag. He let his eyes wander to her and he saw her drag her clothes on ashamed. He stepped up to her as she turned away to pull the shirt on over her head. Doc placed a tender hand on her cheek and turned her face towards him.
“What that man did to you is not your fault. You shouldn’ be ashamed…”
“Oh I shouldn’t be huh? What the hell do you know Doc? You know how long I took those fuckin’ beatins? Twenty long fuckin years. From the day Mrs. Hearst died! I didn’t know when she bought me from the work house that it would be like this. She was good to me. Gave me a nice room to sleep in, told me what to do what not to do, and in return I kept her company with intellectual conversation. Then she goes and dies and I ain’t got no true job in the house, but do I get kicked to the snow? No! I get sent to live in the coal shed behind the kitchen where I am to aid everyone I can and if I so happen to ever find myself accidentally in Mr. Hearst’s view I get a whippin’. But see that ain’t how it played out. I was CALLED to see Mr. Hearst, I was CALLED to see his foremen. So every God Damned day I got some sort of beating.” She looked up at the Doctor tears flooding down her cheeks,
“Did you know Mr. Ellsworth? I did, I knew him from Virginia City. I had been there with Mr. Hearst for a couple of weeks when Mr. Ellsworth showed up. He had worked for the Mackay Mining company and had heard that Mr. Hearst was another good man to work for. He wound up saving the lives of hundreds of men when the explosion happened at the Yellow Jacket mine. He was a hero Dr. Cochran! So Mr. Ellsworth leaves Nevada and comes here and winds up married to a woman with a gold mine. So what happens, Hearst shows up and has Mr. Ellsworth killed. Why the hell did he have to die? Because a bigoted horse’s ass like Mr. Hearst says so! It ain’t right! When I found out about that I was so mad at him the beatin’s didn’t hurt no more cause all I could think about was how to get back at him. Then I hear him talk about some man he had problems with in Deadwood, some saloon keeper who’s man killed Captin’ Turner, and I hear a name, Swearengen. I had been waiting for that name for almost thirty years. And then I hear talk of this man loosing a finger to Mr. Hearst because Hearst feels he needs a lesson. I was so angry I refused to do something he asked me. After that beating I plotted my revenge. I would come here and find Mr. Swearengen, just to see him once, meet him. To repay Mr. Ellsworth I stole the deed to the Homestead Mine to give back to his Mrs. It was sheer luck that there was money and the deed to the Grand Central. Then he caught me with those clothes and he beat me and… I must have blacked out. When I came to I was layin on my floor and I couldn’t feel my hand. I guess that was when it hit me. HE had taken everything I had and now he wanted more? I felt an anger surge in me, an anger for Mr. Swearengen, for Mr. Ellsworth and his missus and finally for myself. So I did as I had planned to, bloodied and all, I broke the window in my room, grabbed what I had taken, stole a horse from the stables and ran. So forget not feeling ashamed. I deserved every scar on my back Doctor. I should have done this a long time ago.”
Doc Cochran unconsciously finished his tea, needing something physical to do to hide his anger at her treatment. He felt a sorrow overwhelm him, Ellsworth had been a good man who had not deserved to die. It was too bad Trixie had missed her mark when she had shot the son-of-a-bitch, Hearst. Cochran shook his head and felt tired in body and soul.
“I’m sorry.”
Elizabeth turned a small smile to the doctor and then turned back to the table where she took a green package out of her pocket and dumped the contents into a bowl.
“Its alright Doctor, you were bein’ kind, but shame ain’t something I kin wash away through absolution, even your absolution.”
Doc felt his eyes get blurry and the room started spinning.
“I’m getting dizzy, an tired, so very tired.”
She moved next to him a knowing smile in her eyes.
“ I must have given you a little too much Peyote.”
“WHAT?”
“Well it isn’t all peyote, its mostly herbs to make you sleep.”
“Why would you drug me?” Doc Cochran couldn’t help falling back on his little bed as the room began to spin.
She looked down on him and pulled his glasses from his face. She looked like a gauzy angel as she brushed a tendril of hair from his face.
“I’ve come to repay a debt Doctor Cochran.”
Fear gripped his chest as he smelt brimstone and lost consciousness.