Chapter 6

The next morning was dreary. I closed my tent flap, and went in search of a couple guards. My camp was probably safe for now, since no one knew where I was. But, that would change, soon. I had left my mule staked out a little deeper in the woods, in a little clearing, and he was enjoying the growth. I also had to consider what to do with him. I didn't want to take care of a mule.

The first item on my list, guards, was easily handled. There was a gathering place and miners that were seeking work gathered there and either left word or hung around, hoping to be picked up for work.

I thought it a bit expensive, but considering a pie could run as high as 20 dollars, well, it was the free market enterprise along with short supply of everything. These guys were staying through the winter, and wanted to make sure they could live. Still, it was piece of mind to have a couple guards for my campsite. I had valuable items and food there.

Since this was a job that would last for some time, they moved their tents close to mine. They camped a short distance away from my site, but out of my sight. I would have to be a bit careful that they didn't see anything they weren't supposed to see; but, all in all, I was pleased.

There was one mine company rep present. He was in the process of building up the company's interest in the area. He had arrived first, but his family had followed a few months later, apparently. While woman were at the camps and in the growing town, kids were rare, yet he had two. People did not usually bring their children to these camps. It was a most spartan life, for the miners.

This camp was luckier than most as it had easy trails in and out, as well as a connection to the railroad just several days' walk away. Shipments of milled lumber were constantly arriving. They were snapped up as soon as they arrived.

My mule was easily taken care of. I rented it to the company rep for a nice profit. It seemed mules and horses were in great demand, here. There was never enough of anything, really. The storekeepers were making the real killing, here. Everyone needed to eat, or have supplies, or more, more, more of what was always in short supply.

There were many interesting people, and I heard languages from all over the world. French was the second language spoken here, English being the first. We had several Englishmen. The Irish and Welsh had come to start working the company's mines.

Dawson City was some distance from here, but had made it through to my present. I knew that this little growing town would die in a few years. Still, there was gold here to be taken, and a few fortunes to be made, before the 'golden well' dried up. While Dawson City was in Canada, the little town I was in was on the Alaskan side of the Canada/Alaska border, in what was considered 'The Yukon'.

Actually, when all was said and done, this site was fairly close my modern home. Still, I was careful with my supplies and equipment. I went exploring as much as I could. I had a nodding acquaintance with the mining rep, Arthur Bannerman and his family.

He was a little man... cocky, and sure of himself. A take-charge kind of guy. He'd had a large cabin built, which served as both his home, and the mine's office of operations.

Since he had a ready cash supply, he had no problem hiring workers for the mining company's new twenty-four hour operation. The pay was one dollar and forty cents an hour, which was an incredible amount considering that men elsewhere were lucky to get a dollar a day or thirty a month in the lower states. That wage barely paid for a subsistence level of life for these miners. Prices were just as inflated as the pay.

A small group of miners had gotten together, pooled their resources, and was making some extra money by ordering supplies in bulk. Then they were reselling at a profit, once it arrived. While the place was accessible, there was no road. Wagons still could not make it all the way, and that meant packers and mule trains.

There was already a hotel going. A general store you could order supplies through, doubled as a post office, although mail was sporadic at best. People actually made a living carrying messages in and out of the site, to the railroad station that had sprung up some one hundred and twenty miles away. That's also where the supplies were offloaded from railroad trains, and put on the mule trains. For now, business was booming in this little fledgling town.

An enterprising lady had managed to bring a small oven through, and was running a food service. I made a deal with her for fresh baked bread every three days. Other women worked as seamstress, laundresses, and maids... anything to earn extra income.

Yes, there was 'companionship' to be had, if the money was right. Most of the women elected not to go that route. While they did have a hard life, the women were respected, and treated well by all the men. None were molested, not even the 'companions'.

Drinking was a favorite past time, as was the hunting of food. Besides the tons of food that came in for the miners, several hunters ran a service that brought in fresh big game, such as moose. Fish were caught in streams, or from a nearby lake, and sold. The lady running the bakery service had a milk cow. She was making a respectable side income selling milk and butter, as well as her main business of baked products.

My tent was more comfortable than that many of the rude cabins that had gone up. People were sleeping on the ground. Some were in holes they had dug into the sides of hills, trying to keep warm at night. Some of these 'holes' were actually quite large and roomy, the miner having expanded his temporary home, several times.

It was during my third week that I did my first appendectomy. I noticed a guy who was in pain, and was clutching his side. He thought he had strained something at first, but he was feeling ill and feverish, also. I told his friends not to let him drink anything or eat anything, and I would be back with my bag in a short time. I asked them to clear an area, and start boiling water. I used one of the tables in the front room of the hotel.

I did go back for my bag, but not before heading back to my future home. I had the AI run through the procedure for taking out an appendix, several times. I returned to the camp, brought my bag to the hotel, and the patient lived. Thus was my nickname born: "Doc Ben".

I explained to everyone that I was not a real doctor. I was just someone who had studied a great deal.

"Hell, man. You're the closest thing we got to a real doctor, besides the women's home remedies! You saved Sam's life. That makes you our doc," had been the reply.

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