Medicine Men

8/14/2019 Medicine Men

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Author: Paul Revis

Dated: 12/01/2005

Medicine Men

"Come on down, gather around and see the results for yourselves, ladies and

gentlemen! The amazing "Choctaw Indian Cure" is here for the first time outside of th

Indian tribal council. The most powerful medicine man yet known to living souls has

graciously given me leave to duplicate his formula for long life and vigor. As proof of

this medicine's power to give life to mankind I present to you Chief Red Eagle of the

Choctaw tribe. By his own account, and the account of tribal members, the Chief is ov

one hundred and twenty five years old, and yet here he stands. Not only does he stand

but he dances the tribal war dance of the Choctaw tribe, a complicated and physically

exhausting dance that has been known to wear down the most physically fit warrior.Gather around, folks, and witness this amazing feat of physical prowess!"

The barker stood aside and formally presented to the crowd of twenty, an old

looking gentleman dressed in traditional Indian garb, complete with massive and color

headdress, feathers flowing down his back, making the skinny warrior look like some

prehistoric bird of prey. After a shriek and a whoop, the skinny Chief began to dance

what he considered to be a fitting Choctaw war dance, flailing his arms and legs in wil

gyrations that brought amazement to the village and made several of the women swoon

The train of the head dress flew from the back of his wrinkled head, the feathers creati

a rainbow of color around him. He danced, gyrated and vibrated, spinning like a

whirligig as he stirred the crowd to spasms of belief."One dollar, ladies and gentlemen, is all the money I am allowed to charge to

sample this phenomenal concoction of natural long life in a bottle! An amazingly sma

sum for the vigor of youth. One paltry dollar, and you too can have the vigor and spiri

youth returned to you within an hour. The medicine man swore me to a sacred oath ne

to charge more than a dollar for a bottle of his powerful medicine, and the Chief here

would be obligated to kill me in my sleep and take my scalp back to him if I ever brok

that oath. I can only charge a dollar, but think what this medicine is worth! You,

prospector! What would it be worth to you to work your claim from morning to night

without tiring? To awake the next morning and continue as though you were twentyyears old again?"

"A thing like that would be worth every bit of a bag of gold!" returned a bent an

grizzled old man at the end of a mule's tether.

"Sold!" hollered the barker, with a laugh. "Of course no one is going to pay a ba

of gold for a product like this without trying it first. Try it first for a dollar?"



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The old prospector dug into his blackened poke and extracted a silver dollar which he

in his toughened, wrinkled hand for a brief moment and then flipped toward the barker

Deftly, the barker snatched the coin from the air, inspected it briefly and slid it into his

pocket, pulled a small bottle from the box in front of him and tossed it to the old man.

Immediately, the Chief ceased his dance, spread his legs defiantly and crossed his arm

front of the crowd. Not one drop of perspiration could be seen on the man's face despi

gyrations he had been performing for the past twenty minutes in the blazing heat. It w

if the Chief had merely walked on to the tiny stage and stood. The gathering crowd no

this phenomenon and became infinitely more interested. They watched as the old pros

pulled the tiny cork from the bottle and drank the potion inside.

"How long does it take for this concoction to work?" asked the prospector, "I ca

as I feel any different."

"I'll be straight with you prospector," said the barker, "I have no idea how long i

take. Everybody seems to be different when it comes to the Cure. I had a customer inDakota took a week to respond favorably from the consumption, but by the end of the

he was mending fences with the best. That was the consumption, you heard me right,

deadly consumption. One week."

The old prospector gave the barker a look that was meant to melt glass, and his h

slowly reached for the Colt slung low on his hip.

"You said within an hour. If'n I ain't feelin' no different within an hour you and

Colt are going to have a meet up!"

"Steady there partner!" exclaimed the nervous barker, "I can see you don't put m

store by my words, and I can tell you that if I were you, I wouldn't either. Town folk s

sharpies and hucksters coming through here every week whose only job it is to separat

good upstanding people from their money. I am here today telling you all that I am no

sharpie, or a huckster! No sir! If I were, would I be charging a mere dollar for the grea

Cure known to the western territories? Of course not! I'd dip a few jars into a creek o

of town and add a bit of bitterroot and a shot of Old Redeye and charge you three dolla

That's what a sharpie does, folks, I've seen 'em do it with my own eyes."

"You not worry, John," said the chief, very quietly. "Ancient digger of gold be l

young man soon."

As the barker spoke, cajoling the tiny crowd, desperately attempting to get them

loose of the precious dollars they held, he kept a wary eye on the old prospector. Suddthe old man let out a shriek that could be heard rolling back from the foothills a half m

away. The barker began to ease himself and his wares back into depths of the wagon, h

still on the prospector who now rolled on the ground. Several of the good townsfolk re

for the old man who they believed was dying of the obvious poison the barker had sold

He shook them off, still shrieking. Confused and afraid, the others began drawing wea



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pointing them ominously at the barker's head. The Chief took hold of the barker's arm

preventing him from beating the hasty retreat he was sure was necessary.

"Wait! No hurt Indian friend!" implored the Chief, standing imposingly in front

trembling barker, "You see soon what cure do for old digger of gold!"

The barker looked with disbelief at the old Chief. "What have you done?" he as

his partner quietly.

"You watch too," replied the old Indian, the slight hint of a smile playing across

weathered face.

"Red Eagle, no one has ever acted like that what took the Cure. What did you p

this batch?"

Suddenly the prospector stopped his gyrations and lay staring into the sky for a f

moments. Slowly he brought a hand to his face and looked it over carefully.

"Barker!" he called, "I'll take two more bottles of that Cure."The townsfolk stepped back from the prospector, startled at the transformation.

gray hair, reddened from the dust, was a decided black. The wrinkled, arthritic hands

smooth and strong, and the face! Smooth as a child's. The man fairly leaped to his fee

"I can see again! Your faces ain't all fuzzy like they was! Make that ten more b

barker! I'll pay whatever you want! I have gold to pay with!"

"You not pay John for Cure," said the Chief, "Cure belong to Red Eagle, only se

bottle to white man. Cure last long time. Too much no good."

All the while, the barker stared at Chief Red Eagle, uncomprehending. For thre

months the two had been on the road stopping at little towns all over the territory, selli

Cure, making just enough to live on, plus a little profit on the way. Never had the Cur

produced the effects that were witnessed here. It was like John had said; a little stream

water, a shot of bitterroot and a healthy squirt of Redeye. He was the sharpie he so

vociferously derided, but now the Cure was working and it made no sense. Red Eagle

over the sales of the precious liquid while the barker stood silent, watching the money

in. Gold pieces appeared from the pockets of the poorest looking trail rat, nuggets the

of biscuits were being offered for the elixir that had transformed the old miner into the

young man he once was. The Indian Chief begged the customers to only take a little o

liquid. "You take one sip! No more!" he shouted over the shrieks of the women and ho

of men as they took huge gulps of the Cure, despite the Chief's dire warnings, flailingin a frenzy of regeneration.

From the back of the crowd the Widow Tinker made her way forward, elbowing

way to the painted Studebaker wagon. A handsome woman in her day, the wrinkled an

body stood, arm outstretched, a ten dollar gold piece clenched between three arthritic

fingers, money that was to go to the saloon keeper for her debt to him. The once gleam

eyes that had turned young men to clay now pleaded for a return to better, purer days.



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No words passed her lips, only the pleading of her eyes prayed to the Chief for a bottle

liquid youth. If only for a little while, to be once again the belle of the village, the bea

that drove men to fight for the privilege of her hand, and women to fits of jealousy wh

glided past them. Only now, she knew, she would be a kinder woman than she was in

youth, if only the Indian would allow her the chance. If only…

The bottles of Cure were fairly leaping out of the box into the hands of the one

to pay the now horrendous price. Chief Red Eagle grasped the final bottle of Cure.

"Last bottle go to highest bidder!" exclaimed the Chief, holding the glass bottle

for all to see.

"It's all the money I have left in the world," pleaded the widow thrusting the shin

gold piece closer to the Chief's outstretched hand.

"I bid a thousand dollars gold now and the output of my mine for a week!" excla

a well dressed man in the third row. "Anyone in this town can tell you what that mine

produced so far this month, and I'll tell you it's a sight more than a scrawny ten dollar g piece!"

"Ugh, not enough," grunted the Indian. "You see. Last bottle for ever. No more

"Is that true, Chief?" asked the Barker, panic edging into his voice. "There is no

ever, is that true?"

"Chief Red Eagle speak truth all time," replied the Indian, still holding the bottle

before him.

"I have one more offer to make," whispered the widow. "If the Cure is as good

say it is, I offer you myself as a young woman, to be your wife."

The barker looked into the face of the old Chief, a hint of a smile playing on his

"She was a looker, Chief, I can tell that. They say she was the most beautiful wo

west of the great river. Make a good squaw for an old Chief!"

"Hungh", snorted the Chief, "Red Eagle have squaw, twenty five summers old.

Squaw for John!"

"I'm offering you two more gold than you've ever seen in your miserable lives, a

you're arguing about this wrinkled old saloon rat! What more do you want?" shouted t

well dressed man from the third row. "Two months output from the mine, final offer!"

Hesitating, John took another look into the pleading eyes of the old woman. He

the reputation she had. Her beauty was legendary, as was her disdain for others that w

not her equal. But the eyes! Those pleading eyes bored into his very soul, begging foranother chance at the life she once had.

By now the crowd had become silent but for the occasional outburst of "Take th

gold!" or "Give the widow another chance!"

"I don't know what to do, Chief," lamented the Barker. "That's a lot of gold he i

offering. What would you do? You make the decision."



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The Chief reached out his hand and took the ten dollar gold piece from the old

woman, placing in its stead the precious liquid.

"Old squaw have kind eyes," he said simply, "Red Eagle hear man say gold min

empty yesterday. Easy to offer gold where no gold is. John take squaw, be happy. Le

Eagle go home. Gold not everything. Gold not love anyone.

END

Medicine Men

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