Adventures in The Wild West, 1878 by John Raffensperger & Prof. Richard Krevolin

Author:John Raffensperger & Prof. Richard Krevolin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sherlock holmes, mystery, crime, british crime, sherlock holmes fiction, sherlock holmes novel, Doctor Joseph Bell, sir arthur conan doyle
ISBN: 9781787051515
Publisher: Andrews UK
Published: 2017-12-07T00:00:00+00:00

23 November, 1878

I did not sleep well last night and dreamed about poison and ghastly medical experiments. I greatly admired Dr. Bell’s deductive talents, but did his cognitive faculties overshadow common sense and his ability to empathize with the plight of others?

The idea of posing as Pinkertons smacked of lunacy and sheer madness. Several times in the wee hours of the morning, I vowed I would march right over to his room and tell him to get another poor sod to serve as his live bait.

In the end, it was clear we were committed. Both Carl and I needed the money. I am already in too deep and must not let down Doctor Bell or Carl.

Rufus came early to help pack. “Mr. Arthur, those folks down south don’t take to strangers from the North. Don’t you trust nobody and be careful.”

“I shall.”

“I want to go with you.”

“No, Rufus. You stay with Dr. Bell.”

Rufus bobbed his woolly head. “Guess you is right. I’ll stick with the doctor, but they’s one white man in Memphis you can trust.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Josiah Burk on Second Street.”

He then took a common pin out of his wallet and a pinch of black soot wrapped in a scrap of paper. “Hold out your wrist.” He dipped the pin in the soot and pricked the inside of my wrist, leaving an almost microscopic black dot. “Show him this mark. He helped slaves escape to the North.”

I finished writing these bits of conversation and my sad ruminations. I then gave this diary to Doctor Bell with a folded note that said, “Sir, if we don’t return, please give this to my mother.”

An hour later, Carl and I climbed aboard the crowded smoking car of the St. Louis Flyer. It was ten o’clock in the morning as we rattled through Central Illinois. I was tired and morose at leaving Dr. Bell and the dangers that may lie ahead. Carl was jubilant.

“Carl, how can you be so calm?”

Carl puffed on his El Perfecto cigar and smiled. “In just ten days on this job, I am gonna earn sixty dollars. My pa don’t see that much money for a year of hard work. It will save our family’s farm and pay for Rush Medical School next year.”

“That’s all well and good, but you won’t be able to collect your sixty dollars if you’re DEAD!”

“Doyle, you Scottish worry-wart! We’ll be fine...”

I began to settle down and watch the never-ending prairie, fields of corn, and sluggish rivers. Carl never stopped talking, puffing his El Perfecto cigar, and pointing out landmarks. He had a natural understanding of the land and botany. He knew the names of the rivers Kankakee and Illinois, and recognized the small towns. Later in the journey, the land was bleak and flat compared to the braes of Scotland. I felt a pang of homesickness and had images of a girl with red hair in the heather.

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