Well, we'd had our fair share of patent medicine drummers in Bear Paw, and once we'd even had a traveling medicine show that had a juggler and twelve trained dogs and sold an herb compound and catarrh cure that give everybody that took it the trots. But we'd never had a painless dentist before.

  Fact was, 1'd never heard of this Doc Christmas. Turned out nobody else had, neither. He was brand-spanking new on the circuit, and that made him all the more of a curiosity. He drove that gaudy wagon of his straight down Main Street and across the river bridge, with half the townsfolk trailing after him like them German citizens trailed after the Pied Piper. Not just kids-men and women, too. And 1 ain't ashamed to admit that one of the men was yours truly, Randolph Tucker, sheriff and mayor of Bear Paw.

  Doc Christmas parked his wagon on the willow flat along the river, with its hind end aimed out toward the road. It was getting on toward dusk by then, so him and the bald gent, whose name come out to be Homer, lighted pan torches that was tied to the wheels of the wagon. Then they opened up the back end and fiddled around until they had a kind of little stage with a painted curtain behind it. Then they got up on the stage part together, and Homer played more tunes on his banjo while the two of 'em sang the words, all louder than they was melodious. Then Doc Christmas begun setting out a display of dentist's instruments, on a slant-board table so the torchlight gleamed off their polished surfaces, and Homer went around handing out penny candy to the kids and printed leaflets to the adults.

  1 contrived to lay hands on one of the leaflets. It said that Doc Christmas was Montana Territory's newest and finest painless dentist, thanks be to his recent invention of Doc Christmas's Wonder Pain-Killer, the most precious boon to mankind yet discovered. It said he had dedicated his life to dispensing this fantastic new elixir, and to ridding the mouths of every citizen of Montana of loose and decayed teeth so's the rest of their teeth could remain healthy and harmonious. And at the very last it said what his services was going to cost you. Pint botde of Doc Christmas's Wonder Pain-Killer, a three months' supply with Judicious use-one dollar. A complete and thorough dental examination in his private clinicfour bits for adults, children under the age often free. Pulling of a loose or decayed tooth-one dollar for a simple extraction, three dollars for a difficult extraction that required more than five minutes. There was no other fees, and painless results was guaranteed to all.

  As soon as the Doc had his instruments all laid out, Homer played a tune on his banjo to quieten everybody down. After which Doc Christmas began his lecture. It was some impressive. He said pretty much the same things his leaflet said, only in words so eloquent any politician would've been proud to steal 'em for his own.

  Then he said he was willing to demonstrate the fabulous power of his pain-killer as a public service without cost to the first suffering citizen who volunteered to have a tooth drawn. Was there any poor soul here who had an aching molar or throbbing bicuspid? Doc Christmas invited him or her to step right up and be relieved.

  Well, I figured it might take more than that for the doc to get himself a customer, even one for free. Folks in Bear Paw is just natural reticent when it comes to strangers and newfangled pain-killers, particular after the traveling medicine show's catarrh cure. But 1 was wrong. His offer was took up then and there by two citizens, not just one.

  The first to speak up was Ned Flowers, who owns the feed and grain store. He was standing close in front, and no sooner had the doc finished his invite than Ned shouted: "I volunteer! I've got a side molar that's been giving me conniption fits for near a month."

  "Step up here with me, sir," Doc Christmas said, "right up here with Homer and me."

  Ned got one foot on the wagon, but not the second. There was a sudden roar, and somebody come barreling through the crowd like a bull on the scent of nine heifers, scattering bodies every which way. 1 knowed who it was even before 1 saw him and heard his voice boom out. "No you don't, Flowers! I got me a worse toothache than you or any man in sixteen counties. I'm gettin' my molar yanked first and I'm gettin' it yanked free and 1 ain't takin' argument from you nor nobody else!"

  Elrod Patch. Bear Paw's blacksmith and bully, the meanest gent 1 ever had the misfortune to know personal. I'd arrested him six times in seven years, on charges from drunk and disorderly to cheating customers to assault and battery to caving in the skull of Abe Coltrane's stud Appaloosa when it kicked him whilst he was trying to shoe it, and I could've arrested him a dozen more times if 1'd had enough evidence. He belonged in Deer Lodge Penitentiary, but he'd never been convicted of a felony offense, nor even spent more than a few days in my jail. Offended parties and witnesses had a peculiar way of dropping their complaints and changing their testimony when it come time to face the circuit judge.

  Patch charged right up to the doe's wagon and shoved Ned outen the way and knocked him down, even though Ned wasn't fixing to argue. Then he dumb up on the stage, making the boards creak and groan and sag some. He was big, Patch was, muscle and fat both, with a wild tangle of red hair and a red mustache. He stood with his feet planted wide and looked hard at Doc Christmas. He'd been even meaner than usual lately, and now we all knew why.

  "All right, sawbones," he said. "Pick up your tools and start yankin'."

  "1 am not a doctor, sir. 1 am a painless dentist."

  "Same thing to me. Where do 1 sit?"

  The doe fluffed out his whiskers and said: "The other gentleman volunteered first, Mister...?"

  "Patch, Elrod Patch, and I don't care if half of Bear Paw volunteered first. I'm here, and I'm the one sufferin' the worst. Get to it. And it damn' well better be painless, too."

  1 could've gone up there and stepped in on Ned Flowers's behalf, but it would've meant trouble, and 1 wasn't up to any trouble tonight if it could be avoided. Doc Christmas didn't want none, either. He said to Patch-"Very well, sir."-and made a signal to his assistant. Homer went behind the painted curtain, come out again with a chair like a cut-down barber's chair with a long horizontal rod at the top. He plunked the chair down next to the table that held the doe's instruments. Then he lighted the lantern and hooked it on the end of the rod.

  Patch squeezed his bulk into the chair. The doc opened up Patch's mouth with one long-fingered hand, poked and prodded some inside, then went out and got a funny-looking tool and poked and prodded with that. He done it real gentle, too. Patch squirmed some, but never made a sound the whole time.

  Homer come over with a bottle of Doe Christmas's Wonder Pain-Killer, and the doc held it up to show the crowd whilst he done some more orating on its virtues. After which he unstoppered it and swabbed some thick brown liquid on Patch's jaw, and rubbed more of it inside of Patch's mouth. When he was done, Homer handed him a pair of forceps, which the doc brandished for the assemblage. That painkiller of his sure looked to be doing what it was advertised to do, for Patch was sitting quiet in the chair with a less hostile look on his ugly face.

  He wasn't quiet for long, though. All of a sudden Homer took up his banjo and commenced to play and sing "Camptown Races" real loud. And with more strength than 1'd figured was in that beanpole frame, Doc Christmas grabbed old Patch around the head with his hand tight over the windpipe, shoved the forceps into his wide-open maw, got him a grip on the offending molar, and started yanking.

  It looked to me like Patch must be yelling something fierce. Leastways his legs was kicking and his arms was flapping. But Homer's banjo playing and singing was too loud to hear anything else. The doc yanked, and Patch struggled for what must've been about a minute and a half. Then the doc let go of his windpipe and with a flourish he held up the forceps, at the end of which was Patch's bloody tooth.

  Patch tried to get up outen the chair. Doc Christmas shoved him back down, took a big wad of cotton off the table, and poked that into Patch's maw. Right then Homer quit picking and caterwauling. As soon as it was quiet, the doc said to the crowd: "A simple, painless extraction, ladies and gentlemen, accomplished in less time than it takes to peel and core an apple. It was painless, was it not, Mister Patch?"

  Patch was on his feet now. He was wobbly, and he seemed a mite dazed. He tried to say something, but with all that cotton in his mouth the words come out garbled and thick, so's you couldn't understand none of 'em. Homer and the doc handed him down off the wagon. The townsfolk parted fast as Patch weaved his way through, giving him plenty of room. He passed close to me on his way out to the road, and he looked some stunned, for a fact. Whatever was in Doc Christmas's Wonder Pain-Killer sure must be a marvel of medical science.

  Well, as soon as folks saw that Patch wasn't going to kick up a ruckus, they applauded Doc and Homer and pushed in closer to the wagon. In the next half hour, Doc Christmas pulled Ned Flowers's bad tooth and give a dozen four-bit dental examinations, and Homer sold nineteen bottles of the pain-killer. 1 bought a pint myself 1 figured it was the least 1 could do in appreciation for the show they'd put on and that stunned look on Patch's face when he passed me by.

  1 was in my office early next morning, studying on the city council's proposal to buy fireworks from an outfit in Helena for this year's Fourth of July celebration, when Doc Christmas and Homer walked in. Surprised me to see 'em, particular since Homer looked some vexed. Not the doe, though. He'd struck me as the practical and unflappable sort last night, and he struck me the same in the light of day.

  "Sheriff," he said, fluffing out his whiskers, "1 wish to make a complaint."

  "That so? What kind of complaint?"

  "One of the citizens of Bear Paw threatened my life not twenty minutes ago. Homer's life, as well."

  Uh-oh, I thought. "Wouldn't be Elrod Patch, would it?"

  "It would. The man is a philistine."

  "Won't get no argument from me on that," 1 said. "Philistine, troublemaker, and holy terror. What'd he threaten you and Homer for? Body'd think he'd be grateful, after you jerked his bad tooth free of charge."

  "He claims it was not the painless extraction 1 guaranteed."

  "Oh, he does."

  "Claims to have suffered grievously the whole night long," Doc Christmas said, "and to still be in severe pain this morning. 1 explained to him that some discomfort is natural after an extraction, and that, if he had paid heed to my lecture, he would have understood the necessity of purchasing an entire bottle of Doc Christmas's Wonder Pain-Killer. Had he done so, he would have slept like an innocent babe and be fit as a fiddle today."

  "What'd he say to that?"

  "He insisted that 1 should have supplied a bottle of my Wonder Pain-Killer gratis. 1 informed him again that only the public extraction was gratis, but he refused to listen."

  "Just one of his many faults."

  "He demanded a free bottle then and there. Of course, 1 did not knuckle under to such blatant extortion."

  "That when he threatened your life?"

  "In foul and abusive language."

  "Uhn-huh. Any witnesses?"

  "No, sir. We three were alone at the wagon."

  "Well, then, sir," 1 said, "there just ain't much 1 can do legally. I don't know what to tell you gents, except that so far as 1 know Patch ain't never killed anybody human. So the chances are he won't follow up on his threat."

  "But he would go so far as to damage my wagon and equipment, would he not?"

  "He might, if he was riled enough. He threaten to do that, too?"

  "He did."

  "Hell and damn. I'll have to talk with him, Doc, try to settle him down. But he don't like me, and 1 don't like him, so I don't expect it'll do much good. How long you and Homer fixing to stay on in Bear Paw?"

  "Business was brisk last evening," the doc said. "We anticipate it will be likewise today and tomorrow as well, once word spreads of my dental skill and the stupendous properties of Doc Christmas's Wonder Pain-Killer."

  "1 don't suppose you'd consider cutting your visit short and moving on elsewhere?"

  He drew himself up. "1 would not, sir. Doc Christmas flees before the wrath of no man."

  "I was afraid of that. Uh, how long you reckon Patch's mouth will hurt without he treats it with more of your Wonder Pain-Killer?"

  "The exact length of time varies from patient to patient. A day, two days, perhaps as long as a week."

  1 sighed. "I was afraid of that, too."

  Patch was banging away at a red-hot horseshoe with his five-pound sledge-hammer when 1 walked into his blacksmith's shop. Doing it with a vengeance, too, as if it was Doc Christmas's head forked there on his anvil. The whole left side of his face was swelled up something wicked.

  He glared when he saw me. "What in hell do you want, Tucker?"

  "A few peaceable words, is all."

  "Got nothin' to say to you. Besides, my mouth hurts too damn' much to talk." Then, Patch being Patch, he went ahead and jawed to me anyways. "Look at what that travelin' tooth puller done to me last night. Hurts twice as bad with the tooth out than it done with it in."

  "Well, you did rush up and volunteer to have it yanked."

  "1 didn't volunteer for no swole-up face like I got now. Painless dentist, hell!"

  "It's my understanding you threatened him and his assistant with bodily harm."

  "Run to you, did he?" Patch said. "Well, it'd serve both of 'em right if 1 blowed their heads off with my Twelve-Gauge."

  "You'd hang, Patch. High and quick."

  He tried to scowl, but it hurt his face, and he winced instead. He give the horseshoe another lick with his hammer, then dropped it into a bucket of water. He watched it steam and sizzle before he said: "There's other ways to skin a cat."

  "Meaning?"

  "Like I said. They's other ways to skin a cat."

  "Patch, you listen to me. You do anything to Doc Christmas or Homer or that wagon of theirs, anything at all, I'll slap you in jail sudden and see that you pay dear."

  "1 ain't afraid of you. Tucker. You and me's gonna tangle one of these days anyhow."

  "Better not, if you know what's good for you."

  "I know what's good for me right now, and that's some of that bastard's pain-killer. It's the genuine article, even if he ain't. And 1 aim to get me a bottle."

  "Now, that's the first sensible thing 1 heard you say. Whyn't you and me mosey on down to the river together so's you can buy one?"

  "Buy? 1 ain't gonna buy somethin' 1 should've got for nothin'!"

  "Oh, Lordy, Patch. Doc Christmas never promised you a free bottle of pain-killer. All he promised was to draw your bad tooth, which he done."

  "One's free, so's the other," Patch said. "Ain't nobody cheats Elrod Patch outen what's rightfully his and gets away with it. Sure not the flim-flammin' long drink of water that claims to be a painless dentist."

  Well, it just wasn't no use. 1'd have got more satisfaction trying to talk sense to a cottonwood stump. But 1 give it one last try before 1 took myself out of there. 1 said: "You're warned, mister. Stay away from Doc Christmas and Homer and their wagon or you'll suffer worse'n you are now by half. And that's a promise."

  All I got for an answer was a snort. He was on his way to the forge by then, else 1 reckon he'd have laughed right in my face.

  Long about noonday 1 had an inspiration.

  1 walked home to Madge Tolliver's boarding house for my noon meal, which I like to do as often as 1 can on account of Madge being the best cook in town, and afterwards 1 went upstairs to my room for the bottle of Doc Christmas's Wonder Pain-Killer I'd bought last night. Outside again, 1 spied the Ames boy, Tommy, rolling his hoop. 1 gave Tommy a nickel to take the bottle to the blacksmith's shop. 1 said he should tell Patch it was from Doc Christmas and that it was a peace offering, free of charge. 1 don't like fibbing or having youngsters fib for me, but in this case 1 reckoned 1 was on the side of the angels and it was a pardonable sin. Sometimes the only way you can deal with the devil is by using his own methods.

  I waited fifteen minutes for Tommy to come back. When he did, he didn't have the bottle of pain-killer with him, which 1 took to be a good sign. But it wasn't.

  "He took it all right, Mister Tucker," Tommy said. "Then he laughed real nasty and said he suspicioned it was from you, not Doc Christmas."

  "Blast him for a sly fox!"

  "He said now he had two bottles of pain-killer, and his mouth didn't hurt no more, but it didn't make a lick of difference in how he felt toward that blankety-blank tooth puller."

  "Two bottles?"

  "Got the other one from Mister Flowers, he said."

  "By coercion, I'll warrant."

  "What's coercion?"

  "Never you mind about that. Patch didn't say what he was fixing to do about Doc Christmas, did he?"

  "No, sir, he sure didn't."

  I left Tommy and stumped on down to the river to see the doc. There was a crowd around his wagon again, not as large today, but still good-sized. Doc had a farmer in the chair and was yanking a tooth while Homer played his banjo and sang "Camptown Races." 1 waited until they was done and eight more bottles of the Wonder Pain-Killer had been sold. Then 1 got the Doc off to one side for a confab.

  1 told him what Patch had said to me and to Tommy Ames. I thought it might scare him some, but it didn't. He drew himself up the way he liked to do, fluffed his whiskers, and said: "Homer and I refuse to be intimidated by the likes of Elrod Patch."

  "He can be mean, Doc, and that's a fact. He's as likely as a visit from the Grim Reaper to make trouble for you."

  "Be that as it may."

  "Doc, I'd take it as a personal favor if you'd pull up stakes and move on right now. By the time you make your circuit back to Bear Paw, Patch'll have forgot his grudge...."

  "1'm sorry, Sheriff Tucker, but that would be the cowardly way, and Homer and 1 are men, not spineless whelps. The law and the Almighty can send us fleeing, but no man can without just cause."

  Well, he had a point, and 1 couldn't argue with it. He was on public land, and he hadn't broken any laws, including the Almighty's. 1 wished him well and went back to town.

  But 1 was feeling uneasy in my mind and tight in my bones. There was going to be trouble, sure as God made little green apples, and now 1 couldn't see no smart nor legal way to stop it.