Backing up a few weeks, July 1, the night Trent Tolliver shot Kelly Kramer…
A gunshot from the Hot Spot in River Bend wasn’t a terribly unusual thing, but it still called for investigation. Marshall Ben Baker was actually on his way home, down D Street, when he heard the shot from a block over. Figuring he needed to check into it, he cut through an alley to C Street just in time to see several horsemen gallop around the corner onto Main Street and out of sight. Ben didn’t like the looks of that, but the first order of business was to see if anyone was hurt. And sure enough, within a block, he saw the body of Kelly Kramer lying against an abandoned building, catty-corner from the River Bend Saloon.
Ben jumped from his horse and ran over to Kelly’s prone body. He saw the blood on her upper chest and grimaced. The first thing he did was check for a pulse; he felt a faint one, but very faint. He didn’t hold out much hope.
A couple of people had come to see who it was and what was happening. Ben, who had some medical training, immediately began trying to stem the flow of blood from Kelly’s body. He looked up at one of the men who were standing by.
“Get the doc, on the double. And I mean, on the triple.”
The man didn’t even bother to respond, he just took off at a gallop.
Ben had stuffed his handkerchief into Kelly’s wound in order to try to keep her from losing too much blood. Having medical knowledge, he knew the basics of what to do with a wound. The bullet had entered Kelly’s chest just above her sternum, which meant it hadn’t hit her heart; well, it obviously hadn’t because she was still alive. And Ben saw no frothy, bloody bubbles coming from Kelly’s lips, either, so it appeared the missile had missed her lungs as well—another location that would have been fatal. But it was still a very serious injury; it would be an extremely difficult operation to get the bullet out and Kelly might die of blood loss or shock before the doctor even got halfway started.
If he doesn’t get here soon, she’ll be dead before he even has a chance to operate…
“Is that Kelly Atkins, Marshal?” a man nearby said. “It shore looks like her.”
Ben hadn’t really taken the time to identify the woman, he had been too concerned to stop the blood flow. But now he took a look at her face, and then a double-take. He frowned. “It…sure looks like her, but I don’t think it is. Something is different…” At the moment, however, that wasn’t the most pressing issue. “Get some water,” Ben said to the man. “I think she’s developing a fever.” That’s the last thing she needs…
The man was gone for only about a minute, and barely 30 seconds later, the doctor arrived. “Excuse me,” he said, pushing his way through the crowd.
He knelt down next to Kelly’s body. “What have we got here, Ben?” he asked.
“Bullet wound just to the right of the sternum, Doctor Reeves. I think she’s developing a fever, too.”
The doctor was all business. He felt Kelly’s head. “Yeah. But you did a good job slowing the blood loss.” He felt for a pulse and shook his head. “Weak, very weak. I’ll be surprised if she makes it. But we’ve got to try.” He glanced at Ben. “Didn’t you tell me you’d had some medical training?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it that. I’ve read some books and done some barnyard practicing.”
“That’s good enough. I’ll need your help, if you’re willing.”
“Of course. I’ll do what I can.”
The doctor had arrived in a wagon. “Let’s get her in the back of my wagon,” he said. “Ben, stay with her and keep that wet cloth on her head to hold down the fever, and also keep that bullet hole plugged. We don’t want her to lose any more blood. She’s going to need all she can get.”
“Do you think a blood transfusion would help?”
Dr. Reeves looked at Ben, a little surprised. Blood transfusions were far from common in the late 19th century, but there had been some successes with the practice. The doctor was a little taken aback Ben had heard about them.
“That might be her only chance,” he replied. “That is, if she doesn’t die of shock from the operation or fever or infection.”
Three men were helping, carefully, lift Kelly’s body and put her into the back of Dr. Reeves’ wagon. “Well, she probably wouldn’t want my blood,” Ben replied, “but maybe we can find somebody…”
“Ben, blood is blood,” Dr. Reeves replied. “Your skin color has nothing to do with that.”
“I know that, Dr. Reeves, but I think you understand what I mean.”
The doctor sighed and nodded. “Well, let’s get her to my office and we’ll go from there.” He looked closely at the young lady lying in his wagon. “Is this Kelly Atkins?”
“If it’s not,” Ben said, “it must be her twin sister.”
The doctor, after sending one of the men to fetch his nurse, got into the wagon and drove to his office like the devil was after him. He felt haste was the most essential element here, especially since he had Ben in the back taking care of Kelly.
Upon arrival, Ben quickly carried Kelly’s body into the operating room while the doctor made preparations to remove the bullet. “She’s hanging in there, doc,” Ben said, feeling Kelly’s pulse. “But I don’t like the way her fever is rising. She’s starting to perspire.”
“A little sweat won’t hurt,” Dr. Reeves said. Then he glanced at the Marshal of River Bend. “You realize, don’t you, Ben, that we’re probably going to lose her before the night’s over.”
Ben nodded. “Well, we’re sure going to lose her, doc, if we keep bantering.”
Right then, Nellie Singer, Dr. Reeves’ nurse came in. After the doctor briefly explained the situation, she took control of most of what Ben was doing.
“I’d like for you to stay, Ben, if you would,” Dr. Reeves said. “We might just need you.”
“I’ll stay as long as necessary,” Ben replied.
“Thanks.”
Doctor Reeves started the operation. It was extremely delicate because the bullet was very near Kelly’s heart. He had to be ever-so-careful, and that took a lot of time. He shook his head. “She’s losing too much blood. She isn’t going to make it without more.” He looked at Ben. Ben knew what the doctor was thinking.
“It’s her only chance, Ben,” the doctor said.
The big black man nodded. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said and started rolling up his sleeve.
Nellie was a very thin lady who probably didn’t have a pint of blood in her whole body. The transfusion had to come from Ben; there simply wasn’t enough time to go searching for a volunteer. So, as quickly as possible, doctor and nurse got Ben situated and the flow of blood started from his arm to Kelly’s. “This is far from an exact science, Ben,” Dr. Reeves said. “I’ve only done it once before.” He grinned wryly. “And it didn’t work.” He actually gave Ben a smile. “But I didn’t lose the donor.”
Ben didn’t smile back. He just replied, “Save her, doctor. That’s all I want you to do. Or, at least, the best you can do.”
Dr. Reeves nodded, wearily. “I’ll do that, Ben, but she still doesn’t have much chance.”
The operation continued and the doctor was able to get the bullet out of Kelly’s body without losing her. He sewed her up. He sighed, very weary. “She’s still running a fever, Doctor,” Nurse Singer said, feeling Kelly’s head.
“Yes, and she will until it either kills her or it breaks. Let’s get Ben unplugged.”
After the doctor and nurse had removed the transfusion needle and patched him up, he started to rise. “Ben, don’t try to get up,” the doctor said. “You probably gave her 1.5 to 2 pints of blood, and believe me, that’s going to affect you for a little while.”
Ben, whose head had started spinning when he had tried to rise, laid back down and closed his eyes. “Can I have a blood transfusion, doc?” he asked, and Reeves laughed.
“Well, I’ll say this, big fella,” Reeves replied, patting Ben on the shoulder. “If this woman lives, it will be because of you.”
“She’s not turning black, is she?” Ben joked, but weakly, and still with his eyes closed.
“No, but you’ve been turning white,” the doctor replied, and Ben laughed, knowing what Reeves meant.
Nellie volunteered to stay the night and watch the patient—patients—but Dr. Reeves thought he’d better be there just in case. “I need to be here, Nellie. But if you would, please bring Ben some food. He needs that to rebuild his strength. And then, get some sleep.”
“You need some, too, Doctor,” the nurse replied.
“I’ll get some when the patient is out of danger.” One way or another…
Nellie left. It was well past midnight now. Reeves pulled up a chair and sat between Kelly and Ben. “What happened, Ben?” he asked. “Who would shoot a pretty young thing like her?”
“I don’t know, doc,” Ben said, his eyes still closed. “But I promise I’ll find out. I saw some men riding hell bent for leather out of town right after I heard the shot, but I didn’t have time to chase them. That’s not Kelly Atkins, is it?”
“No, it’s not, but she sure looks like Kelly. Amazing resemblance, but this lady has blue eyes and Kelly’s are green. I don’t know this woman, do you?”
“No, she must be new in town, and that’s probably the answer. She was fleeing from somebody and they found her. If she lives, we can find out.”
“Yeah…A big ‘if’, Ben, a mighty big one…”
The news of the shooting was all over town by mid-morning; this sort of information spreads like a wild fire. When Kelly Kramer didn’t show up for work the next morning, Oscar and Sudsy Word, her employers, were understandably peeved—until they found out that a young woman had been shot on her way home the night before. Nobody knew who she was, except…
“Scuttlebutt is she shore looks like Kelly Atkins…”
When Sudsy heard that, she told Oscar to take over the whole restaurant—not an easy task at that time of the morning—but she made a beeline for the doctor’s office.
“Her name is Kelly Kramer,” Sudsy said, when she saw the girl lying in bed. Kelly was still alive, but still in very critical condition. Her pulse was erratic and she still had a fever, though it had gone down some. Dr. Reeves was worried about infection setting in.
“What do you know about her?” the doctor asked. He hadn’t slept all night but he wasn’t going to leave his patient’s side, either.
“She just got to town a few days ago. We hired her as our new waitress. She seems to be a good girl, and works hard. There must be somebody in her past…”
“Yeah, that’s what me and the marshal figured, too. You say her name is Kelly?”
“Yes,” Sudsy replied with a slight chuckle. “A bit of irony. She looks so much like Kelly Atkins, doesn’t she.”
The doctor frowned, thinking. He wasn’t so tired that his creative mind couldn’t make a guess or two. “Yes, she certainly does look like Kelly Atkins,” he said, thoughtfully. But why in the world would anybody want to kill Kelly Atkins? One of Nicholas Backstrom’s men?
He bounced the idea off Ben Baker, who had fallen asleep soon after the operation and woken up about 10. Nellie Singer was at the office now and she had brought both doctor and Ben some food.
Ben was feeling strong enough to sit up. “My head’s still a little woozy, but I’m ok,” he said. “And in regards to your question, doc, I suppose it could be a case of mistaken identity, and yes, I suppose one of Nicholas Backstrom’s men could hold a big enough grudge against her…”
Before he could take the next step—to Trent Tolliver’s possible desire for revenge—the lady herself walked in. Or burst in, would be a better term.
“Is she ok, doc? Is she going to make it?” Kelly Atkins asked, a very worried frown on her face. “I came over as soon as I heard…”
“She’s stable at the moment, Kelly,” the doctor replied. “But she’s very weak, feverish, and I fear infection. I still give her less than a 10% chance to live. Do you know her?”
Kelly nodded. “We met, by accident, a few days ago. I ran into her just outside of Elmo’s. She helped me pick up some apples that had fallen out of a broken sack. Elmo was there, too, and he said we…look a lot like each other.”
“She could be your twin sister, Kelly,” the doctor replied.
“But she’s not. It’s all just a coincidence.” Kelly was in anguish. “Why would anybody want to shoot her? She seemed so…harmless.”
“What do you know about her, Kelly?”
“Well…nothing, really, except that she moved here from Upton.”
The doctor looked at Ben. The Marshal nodded. “Well, that’s more than we knew, and it’s a start,” Ben said. “I’ll wire the sheriff up there and see what he can tell us.”
Ben got another look from the doctor, and he could read the question—should we mention the possibility of mistaken identity? Ben almost imperceptibly shook his head.
Kelly then said, quietly, “She said she also met Rob on the way.”
That got Ben’s attention. “She did? What did she say about him? Is he coming this way?”
Kelly sighed and shrugged. “She wasn’t sure what he was going to do. But she said he was fine. She also said he helped her out of some kind of problem.”
Ben grunted. “Why am I not surprised at that? But that ‘problem’ might be why she was shot. It would be nice if we could talk to Rob.”
Kelly smiled at him whimsically. “You want to go try and find him?”
Ben had to chuckle at that. “Uhh…no.”
The Marshal got out of bed. “I’ve got to go find out what I can about why this lady was shot. I can start here, ask around, and see if there’s something to learn.”
“You sure you’re up to it, Ben?” Dr. Reeves asked.
“I’m fine, doc, thanks. Try to pull her through. I know you’ll do the best you can.”
“Thanks. And thanks for your help. The young lady will owe you her life, if she survives. Drink of a lot of liquids to help restore your blood.”
Ben just nodded and walked out.
Ben went straight to his office to take care of a couple of matters, then he sent a telegraph to the sheriff at Upton to see if he could learn anything about Kelly from that source. After that, he headed for the Hot Spot to further investigate the shooting. Most of the bars and brothels were closed, but their proprietors usually lived on site, so Ben was able to find most of them. None of them admitted to knowing anything, which was the truth; the Tollivers hadn’t patronized anyplace but the River Bend Saloon, so nobody else had seen them. Ben had initially gone up the side of the street where Kelly had been shot; he asked three blocks worth of “businesses,” then came down the other side of the street. At the River Bend Saloon, he thought he might have a lead.
Ted Ginger was the seedy owner of the joint and, of course, he was going to be as non-committal as possible. “No, didn’t see anybody, Marshal. We don’t cater to that kind of clientele, you know that. Not a chance in the world that the killer came out of my saloon. I would tell you if I knew something, but I just don’t have any information for you. Nope, can’t help you, sorry.”
The thought “methinks he doth protest too much” went through Ben’s mind, and since Ginger wouldn’t look at the marshal, either, the big Negro had a suspicion the bar owner knew more than he was telling. “I see,” Ben responded. “Well, thanks for your help, anyway.”
“Any time, Marshal.”
Ben nodded and started to walk out, but then turned back to Ginger and said, “Oh, Mr. Ginger, I’ve been meaning to ask you. When was the last time you had your liquor license updated?”
Too long ago, Ben knew, and Ginger knew it, too. It was the kind of thing Ben kept in reserve for just such occasions as this. “Well, uh, Marshal, I’m…not really sure. But I know everything is on the up and up.”
“The town fathers pay me to keep up with that sort of thing, Mr. Ginger, so I guess while I’m here, I might as well check your license. That is, unless you can remember something about the shooting last night. If you do, well, then, I’d be too busy to look at that license, wouldn’t I.”
Ginger’s beady eyes were wiggling around like a worm on a hook, and, not surprisingly to Ben, he responded, “Well, come to think of it, Marshal, you might want to talk to Hardy Nippo. He could, uh, know something.” Then he added hastily, “I’m not saying he does—“
Ben didn’t know Hardy Nippo. “Where does he live?”
“I’m not really sure—“
“I’d really like to see your license, Mr. Ginger.”
“Um, I’ve heard that Mr. Nippo—a fine, upstanding citizen, mind you—rents a place down the road at the Gulliver Hotel.” A roach-infested, bedbug haunting joint, if there ever was one.
“Thank you, Mr. Ginger. You might want to double check your license, just in case.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that, Marshal. Thanks.”
Ben walked down to the Gulliver Hotel and learned that Hardy Nippo had settled up his bill and left town the night before.
But the marshal didn’t give up just yet. That night, he went into the River Bend Saloon. The room got awfully quiet as he walked towards the bar, but he just waved everybody back to what they were doing, so the place went back to business.
“Howdy, Marshal,” the bartender said, a little warily, as Ben stepped up to the bar. “Is this a social visit or business?”
“Oh, a little of both, I guess,” Ben said. He tossed a coin on the counter. “How about a beer?”
“One beer comin’ right up.”
Ben took a sip of it, and grimaced. Rank stuff. But then, this wasn’t what he came for anyway. “Willy, what can you tell me about that shooting the other night?”
Willy, the barkeep, shook his head. “Honest to goodness, Marshal Baker, I don’t know a thing. I didn’t know the fellow who done it. He came in with four, five other toughs wanting to know where Hardy Nippo was. I pointed Hardy out to him. We were busy that night so I didn’t pay much mind. I glanced up when the fellow rushed towards the door, but again, I wasn’t watching closely. I heard the shot and saw Hardy standing at the door. A few seconds later he took off like a bat outta hell and I ain’t seen him since.”
“And you didn’t know who the man was who fired the shot?”
“Nope. Never seen him before. Or any of the men with him.”
“Any rumors floating around about who it might be?”
Yeah, there were, and the name Trent Tolliver was at the top of the list, but Willy the Bartender wasn’t about to tell the marshal that. If word got back to Trent that Willy was dropping his name to lawmen, the barkeep’s life expectancy would drop dramatically.
“Nobody knew him, Marshal. He was a stranger.”
Ben wasn’t sure he believed that, but he could tell Willy was a little scared and wouldn’t give up anything important. “Who’d Hardy hang around with?”
Willy named a few names, but then said, “They’re all gone, too, Marshal. They lit a shuck right after Hardy did.”
Ben sighed. “Thanks, Willy,” he said, and not bothering to finish his beer, he walked out of the bar.
The River Bend Marshal had hit a big, fat zero when it came to finding out who shot Kelly Kramer.
Kelly’s condition didn’t get any worse during the day, but it didn’t get any better, either. Dr. Reeves slept for a few hours in the bed next to Kelly, and when he was asleep, Nurse Singer watched over Kelly very carefully. Ben came back that evening and talked to the doctor in the office lobby.
“How is she doing, doc?” Ben asked.
“Well, she’s resting and she hasn’t died yet, so that’s two pluses. She still has a fever, though, and that worries me. If there is infection inside of her, it will spread and kill her and there’s not a thing in the world I can do about it.” He looked at Ben, gave him a hopeful smile, and shrugged. “Time will tell.”
“Has she woken up?”
“No, not that I know of.”
“Has anybody come to see her?”
“Kelly Atkins is in there with her right now. Did you learn anything about who killed her? Or anything about her at all?”
“No and yes. The one person who might have been able to tell me something about the shooting skipped town late last night. Which tells me that he obviously could have told me something. Regarding Kelly, I got a wire from the sheriff at Upton. He was glad to know where Kelly was. Apparently, she left town with nothing more than a good-bye note to her boss. A friend of hers, some man, went after her, but he never came back. The sheriff up there figured they might have run off together, and he wanted to know if there was a man with Kelly. As far as I know, there’s not.”
The doctor was puzzled over that one. “She just up and left town all by herself?”
Ben made a face and shrugged. “She might have made arrangements with that man to meet her somewhere….” And then Ben remembered something that Kelly Atkins had told him that morning. “Kelly Atkins told me that this Kelly had run into Rob Conners—somewhere—and that he had helped her out in some way.”
“Bought her the stage ticket to River Bend?”
“Maybe. Rob would do that. We won’t know the answer to that until—unless—Kelly wakes up. Or Rob comes through town.”
“Is he headed this way?”
Ben shook his head in ignorance. “I don’t know, Dr. Reeves. Rob Conners is his own man and he’ll do whatever he wants to do whenever he wants to do it.” Then he looked at the doctor. “But if I were a betting man, I’d bet we’re going to see him again before long.”
Well, in one sense that was true, but not exactly how Ben meant it.
Kelly Atkins had been sitting with Kelly Kramer for about two hours now. She had volunteered to do so; Dr. Reeves wanted somebody with Kelly K at all times, and he and Nellie Singer simply couldn’t do it by themselves. Nellie had talked to a few of her friends who were willing to help out, and Kelly A wanted to as well. For some reason, she felt close to this woman, this new Kelly, and she was going to be very sad if the young lady didn’t survive.
Kelly was sitting by the bed, knitting, when she heard a slight groan. She looked over and saw Kelly K’s eyes open. They weren’t very focused and she was obviously groggy, but she was awake. Kelly A stood up and bent over her.
“Kelly?” she asked. “Kelly, can you hear me?”
Kelly K’s eyes cleared a little and she focused in on her namesake. She tried to smile but it came out more of a grimace. “Hi,” she whispered. “Where…am…I?”
“You’re in the doctor’s hospital recovery room,” Kelly A told her. “You’re going to be fine, you just need to rest.” The latter was true, the former may not have been, and Kelly A knew it, but she thought Kelly K would benefit by a more positive, hopeful outlook.
“I…I hurt,” Kelly K said, with another grimace, and closed her eyes. “What…happened?”
“You were shot,” Kelly A told her. “Don’t you remember?”
At that Kelly K opened her eyes again. “Kelly?” she said, as if she just recognized to whom she was talking.
“Yes,” Kelly A replied, and took the other Kelly’s hand. “I’m here. Somebody will always be here next to you until you get well.”
“Thank you,” Kelly K whispered. Her eyes closed again and after a few seconds, Kelly A thought she had fallen asleep. But then Kelly K said, “He…he thought…I…was you…”
Kelly looked at her puzzled, not comprehending. “Who? The man who shot you?”
Kelly K managed to nod. “He thought…I…I was…you.”
Kelly A was stunned. He wanted to kill me, and he mistook her for me… The thought left Kelly’s blood very, very cold. Who would want to kill me? Urgently, she said to Kelly K, “Who was it, Kelly? Do you know who it was?”
Kelly K was almost asleep now. But she managed to shake her head. “No…didn’t…know him…” Then, right before she fell asleep, “He…thought…I was you….”
Kelly Atkins sat back down and stared at nothing. Horrified. The man wanted to kill me…
Who? Why? This was something completely new in Kelly’s life. She’d been a ranch girl all her life. The seedier sides of life were totally foreign to her, and to think somebody would want—would try—to kill her…it was unfathomable. And then another thought horrified her.
Does he know he shot the wrong person? What if he tries again?
And the next thought burst through her head like a thunderclap:
Rob…Rob…where are you?...
That was indeed a good question and one that needs answering.
By and by….