Читать книгу Cowboy Creek Christmas - Cheryl St. John - Страница 15

Chapter Four

“I’ll wait here,” Israel said.

Perplexed, Sam followed Marlys into the room behind the waiting area, August trailing behind. They followed a hallway into the first room, which held a desk, shelves lined with books and a small wooden rack on a cabinet.

She took a squat bottle from the rack and applied a dot of glistening liquid to her little finger.

“What’s that for?” he asked.

“Lean toward me.”

He hesitated, but slowly leaned.

She trailed her finger under his eye.

Her closeness and touch made him unexplainably unsettled.

“I can’t promise this will completely remove that scar, but the skin growth appears new enough that this might greatly improve its appearance.”

He’d received the injury while unloading the presses and parts a couple weeks ago. Sometimes he noticed the mark when he shaved, but hadn’t paid much attention to it after the cut had healed. Apparently she’d noticed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. A surprising curl of gratification spiraled in his chest. It had been a long time since someone had tended to him like this. But she was a doctor, so he’d be foolish to read anything more into the gesture. “Smells good. What’s in this?”

“Sandalwood powder, honey, lavender, aloe plus a couple drops of other oils.” She put the cap back on the bottle and handed it to him. “Dab it on a couple of times a day.”

Their fingertips grazed as he accepted the bottle. “Thank you.”

“Our plans for Thursday still stand?”

“Yes. I found someone who knows the area to travel with us. He speaks Cheyenne.”

Marlys’s eyes opened wide. “You did? That’s perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re dead set on doing this. If I can’t talk you out of it, I’ll first make it safe and then make it advantageous to your cause.”

“I can’t be talked out of going.”

“I know.” They returned to the front of the building where Israel waited. “Thank you for the balm.”

“My pleasure. That should be plenty.”

He took an awkward step back, gave her a nod and turned away. Their cart was half-depleted, so Israel walked ahead, and August sat on the remaining newspapers, hanging on and laughing when they crossed the ruts.

Sam had the urge to caution him about falling off, but instead smiled at the unfamiliar sight of his boy’s gap-toothed grin and the joyful sound of laughter. His son hadn’t derived much pleasure from their relocation.

Sometimes thinking about his son’s remoteness made Sam sick to his stomach. August had been only a year old when Sam had enlisted. Upon his return Sam had been a stranger to the five-year old. Little wonder the boy had barely warmed to him, preferring his grandmother’s company and tutelage over his father’s. But Sam’s mother had done more than her part in raising and caring for her grandson. It was time she had the freedom to travel and enjoy friends. And now that they were settled in their new home, it was past time August and Sam learned to make the best of their threadbare family.

But it seemed the more he tried to draw him close, the more reserved August became. Sam was at a loss, and he prayed continually for a breakthrough.

His thoughts skipped back to Marlys, strangely pleased that she’d had the inclination to make something for the scar under his eye. He glanced at his reflection in the window of the sheriff’s office as they passed, then grabbed a paper and entered to give the lawman a copy.

Marlys was still an enigma. He’d never understood what made her tick, and he still didn’t. He needed to create a stable life for his son, perhaps marry and establish a family if God saw fit to make that happen. He’d be wise to remember she wasn’t that woman, and no attraction or friendship was going to change that. He’d already learned the hard way that hoping for a piece of her heart was futile.

But for some reason, he did value her friendship, and he felt unexplainably responsible for her. She was the smartest person he knew, but she was also headstrong and naive, and those two qualities could mean trouble. He meant to keep his guard up where she was concerned—for her protection and for his.

* * *

Dressed in sensible boots, a slim split riding skirt and a warm coat with a fur hat, Marlys approached the livery and opened the single door. November had arrived with more sun and less snow, but she’d been warned that the weather was unpredictable, so she was prepared.

Sam stood beside a shiny mahogany horse in the wide open area, wearing a suede coat and boots, with a revolver holstered to his thigh. He tightened the cinch on the saddle, patted the horse’s rump and turned to spot her. “I thought we were meeting at the newspaper office.”

“I was ready so I walked,” she replied.

“You look warm and ready for the day.”

“Amos Godwin made these boots for me,” she told him. “I ordered two pair, and he finished these warm ones first.” She glanced over her shoulder. “We will need to go back to my office, though. I have items to bring that I couldn’t carry.”

“I wondered about that. Do we need another horse?”

“I believe so.”

The door opened again, and a young man in a heavy coat joined them, spurs jangling. “Sam.” He tipped his hat to Marlys.

“Marlys, this is James Johnson, Hannah’s husband. James, this is Dr. Boyd.”

“How do, ma’am. I’ve heard about you.”

Marlys greeted the young man with a warm smile. “All good, I’m sure.”

He grinned. “You arrived in town a little too late to hear all the gossip about me and Hannah. And there were a lot of tongues wagging so I was relieved about the new topic of interest.”

“You have me curious now,” she said.

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk,” he replied.

“How much are you taking?” Sam asked her. Then, without waiting for a reply, he said, “James, would a wagon make the trip?”

“No hills or rivers,” he answered. “One creek, not too deep. A wagon will fare well.”

“We will probably need it,” Marlys agreed.

“I’ll hitch horses,” Sam decided. “And I’ll drive the wagon. You can ride ahead, James.”

Their scout headed back into what appeared to be the tack room. “I’ll help with the animals.”

It didn’t take long for the two men to have the wagon ready. Sam assisted Marlys up to the seat and climbed up to take the reins. Back on Second Street, they loaded her crates and bags from her office, and covered them with a tarp.

“I brought food, too.” She handed him a basket with a lid, and he tucked it under the covering.

The weather cooperated, with partial sun breaking through the clouds, but the air was crisp. She was glad she’d bundled for warmth and brought her scarf for her neck and face. James rode ahead as they made their way north out of town.

“No patients today?” Sam asked.

She raised an eyebrow and slanted him a glance. After the incident with the soldier, she’d had a few patients by default, and Pippa liked the mineral baths, but her waiting room was still a good place to be if one wanted quiet time.

“Was that a no?”

“There was a rush of curious people after I treated the soldier, but only a few since then. Perhaps there will be more patients tomorrow,” she said.

He gave a nod of agreement. “The piece I wrote didn’t do any harm, I hope.”

“You stated the facts,” she replied. “At least no one has applied for the assistant position, so I’m not paying a helper yet.”

He glanced up from beneath the brim of his hat, and she followed his gaze to see a hawk gliding on a current.

“From what you said earlier, though, it sounds like you’ve grown accustomed to getting by on very little. Your father cut you off financially after you called off our engagement, did he not?”

“Most definitely.”

“How did you pay for university?” When she didn’t answer right away, he said quickly, “I’m sorry. That was a rude question.”

“I appreciate forthrightness,” she replied honestly. “I worked several jobs to pay my way. I cleaned every evening for a barber. I did laundry for a family. I stayed with a statesman’s elderly mother and had a small room in her home with meals included.”

“When did you study?”

“Every chance I got. Mostly at night.”

Sam looked at Marlys, and his admiration hitched a notch higher. He’d always known she was smart and ambitious, but her fortitude and passion equaled that of the great men he’d known. The strength and determination that shone on her face made her even more striking, with her beautiful porcelain skin and winged brows a shade darker than her bright chestnut hair. Little wonder he’d been smitten with her, but had she ever felt drawn to him? She’d accepted his proposal to appease her father, but now he believed she’d never felt anything beyond a sense of duty. No man wanted to feel like an obligation.

He didn’t really blame her. They were too different. They wanted different things. He’d wanted to marry and start a family. She’d been ardent about her education and medicine. It was better she’d been strong enough to end it than to allow them to make a mistake and enter an ill-fated marriage. “And once you’d graduated, you started looking for a place to locate?”

“I shared a practice with a colleague for a time, but we struggled. Most city people who appreciated advanced medicine already had established doctors. I’d followed the articles and ads about Western locations for some time. The more I looked into the new towns, the more I saw the possibility of pioneer communities being open to new and unconventional practices. Once I had the idea, I couldn’t let go of it. I saw several advertisements encouraging brides and business owners to Cowboy Creek. I wrote the town council, and the town clerk sent me a map and a list of available properties.”

“How did you select your location?”

“Because of my need for water, it wasn’t difficult. I wanted access to the well between the bath house on Second and the laundry on First. Also it’s only three businesses in from the main thoroughfare.”

“Maybe I could include more of your personal story in the next article.”

“I forgot for a moment I was speaking to the journalist. I’ll think about it.”

“Being a journalist is a big part of who I am. Like being a doctor is an important part of who you are. A person’s passions are part of them.”

“Like being a writer also makes you eloquent.”

“Am I?” He glanced over to find her looking up at him. For the first time he felt self-conscious in her presence.

“You have the ability to reach people. You’re able to inspire sympathy or understanding of anything you’re focusing on.”

That was quite a compliment. “You said you’d read my book.”

“And several articles.”

His book was a personal account, and it perhaps revealed more about him than he was comfortable with her learning. He didn’t know why her opinion was different than anyone else’s. People across the nation had read his book, and he wasn’t concerned about their reactions.

Sam couldn’t afford to expend any energy in the direction his thoughts kept leading. Enough was enough.

* * *

They rode in silence for a while. James rode back to let them know they would be arriving at the Cheyenne camp before long. Anticipation quivered in Marlys’s stomach. She’d been looking forward to this for so long. Meeting the indigenous people was part of her reason for leaving the East.

“James will test the temperature with these people before we approach,” Sam warned. “Strangers can be a threat to them, and we don’t know their situation today. They may welcome us, they may not.”

“Understood.”

They drew near the village, where smoke trailed out the tops of tipis arranged in an encampment. Two skinny dogs ran forward, one barking, the other sniffing the horses. Half a dozen braves stood facing them, as though they’d been alerted to the visitors. They wore deerskin leggings, moccasins and coats and hats made of fur.

James signaled for Sam to halt the wagon and rode forward. “Haáahe.”

“Nėhetáa’e. Nétsėhésenėstsehe?” the tallest of the Indians called out.

“He asks if I talk Cheyenne.” James nodded. “Héehe’e.”

“Tósa’e néhéstahe.”

“He asks where we’re from.” James spoke several more words, gesturing to Sam and Marlys. She heard their names, and James mentioned Cowboy Creek.

The Indian seemed to ask more questions and pointed at her.

James turned. “He wants you to climb down so he can look at you.”

“I’ll help you.” Sam climbed down and came around the rear of the wagon to assist her to the ground.

With one of the dogs sniffing at the hem of her riding skirt, Marlys took several steps toward the Indian. Sam remained right beside her.

“Nétsêhésenêstsehe,” he said to her.

“Red Bird asks if you speak Cheyenne,” James said.

She shook her head.

“Má’heóná’e,” James told them. “That’s the word for medicine woman,” he explained.

“Tell him I have medicine. Soap and blankets. Are there any children?”

James spoke with Red Bird and then turned to her. “There are about twenty children. A few are sick. Their medicine woman is old and feeble, and her helper died.”

“I can help them.”

James relayed her message, and Red Bird pointed to the wagon.

“He asks to see,” James said.

Marlys gestured for Red Bird to follow and led him to the back of the wagon, where she climbed up onto the bed to open crates and show him the contents.

Red Bird looked down at her. His eyes were so obsidian they shone, his dark skin lined from the sun, though he didn’t appear old. He had a broad nose and a long scar from his lower lip across his chin, but in his uniqueness she found him strikingly beautiful.

“Ho’eohe,” he said, and gestured for her to join him. Sam was right there to help her down, and she followed Red Bird toward the encampment. Red Bird spoke to James on the way past.

“Leave the wagon, but bring the supplies,” James said to Sam.

The other Indian men picked up crates as well and followed.

Red Bird led Marlys to the largest tipi, called out before entering and held the flap aside for her. She took a deep breath and followed him into what appeared to be their chief’s dwelling. A man whose long, coarse black hair was shot with steel-gray exchanged words with Red Bird. Red Bird led Marlys forward. “Né’seéstse’hena.”

“Take your coats off,” James interpreted.

The three of them did so, and the chief gestured for them to sit near the fire.

Among those in the tipi was a woman who was perhaps the chief’s wife and two women not much older than Marlys, as well as several children, ranging in ages. All the children sat quietly behind their mothers.

“Éhame.” The chief pointed to Sam.

“Chief Woodrow Black Snake asks if you are her husband,” James explained before he answered for Sam.

Red Bird spoke to Chief Black Snake, and apparently the chief asked to see the contents of Marlys’s crates and burlap bags. The men who had accompanied them displayed the contents.

Marlys explained that the blankets were gifts and that the bundles and jars contained medicine.

The chief sent for someone, and after several minutes a brave helped an aged woman into the tipi. She inspected the herbs and opened jars to sniff and taste, then she spoke to the chief. He signed for her to take a seat, and Red Bird helped her lower herself before the fire. Her cloudy black eyes surveyed the newcomers with keen interest.

The chief directed the two young women, and they brought the guests water, roasted nuts and jerky. Marlys instinctively understood they were being treated as honored guests, and the impoverished Cheyenne’s generosity brought swift tears to her eyes.

She asked James to tell her the Cheyenne word for every item in her sight, even the women and children’s names. The women nodded, and the children smiled shyly when she said their names.

“Néá’ee,” she said, thanking them. “Tell them it’s our pleasure to give them blankets.”

James spoke and got up to take the stack of blankets and place it before the oldest woman. She in turn handed one to each of her daughters or daughters-in-law, kept one for herself and instructed Red Bird to give one to the elderly medicine woman. The old woman touched the plain gray wool and nodded at Marlys. “Néá’ee.”

The chief’s wife spoke to one of her daughters, and the younger woman went to a huge woven basket under the slant of the tipi and returned with a folded item she placed before Marlys.

The blanket the old woman had given her was woven with colorful stripes, obviously made from the dyes of berries and plants. The edges had been sewn with short, soft leather fringe. Marlys blinked. She wasn’t an emotional person, and she understood these proud people’s honor depended on an equal trade, but this poignant communion between people of different languages and skin colors touched her heart and soul. Thank You, Lord, for showing me their hearts and giving me this important moment.

“James, please tell her it’s beautiful and will keep me warm for many years.”

James translated.

The woman raised her chin, and her daughters smiled. She then spoke directly to James. “Teke’ váótséva éháomóhtâhéotse.”

They conversed for a moment.

“She says a girl is sick with a fever. She asks if your medicine is powerful enough to heal Little Deer.”

Marlys’s heart leaped. She wanted nothing more than to help these people. She’d touted herself as a great healer—now was her chance to prove her worth. “I know little of their needs or the diseases common to this land and the native tribes,” she said aloud in an uncommon moment of self-doubt.

“Most likely they are immune or have cures for the sicknesses common to them, but the ones that baffle them are those they’ve contracted from the whites.” Sam gave her an encouraging nod.

She stood. “Take me to her.”

After a brief interaction, one of the braves who had accompanied them to the chief helped the old woman stand and gestured for Marlys to join them. Sam got her coat, and he and James stood. “Bring those two crates and my bag,” she said, and they left the chief’s tipi.

The brave spoke to James, and James told them his name was Gray Cloud. They referred to the medicine woman as Hausisse.

“What does it mean?” Marlys asked.

James spoke to the woman. “She said to some it’s She Knows, to others it’s Old Woman.”

Marlys followed them, trudging through trampled-down snow to another lodge, this one painted with animals and figures of women and children. “I like She Knows.”

Inside, there were several children, three lying under fur robes near the fire in the center.

“Teke’ váótséva éháomóhtâhéotse,” She Knows said.

“This is Little Deer,” James interpreted. “She has been sick for many days. The fever doesn’t leave.”

“What have you given her?” Marlys asked.

After a discussion James replied with the remedies the old medicine woman had given the child. Marlys instructed Sam to open the crates. He did as she asked and then took a seat away from the patients.

Marlys asked for water and used it to wash her hands. The child’s mother gave her a concerned look. “I want to help Little Deer,” Marlys said.

James interpreted their conversation.

“I am Blue Water. My child is not strong. She does not eat.”

“May I uncover her and look at her?”

Blue Water nodded and pulled the fur robe away.

The child’s tongue was cracked. She was painfully thin, her skin hot and dry. Marlys examined her for rashes or cuts, even checked the bottom of her feet, which were peeling.

“Are her feet sick?”

“No. The fever causes her skin to peel. We need to cool her down. Sam, bring me water that isn’t too warm, please.” She got cloths from her a crate. “Let’s move her away from the fire.”

With a minimum of effort she relayed her desire to find a vessel large enough to hold the girl. Gray Cloud brought an enormous but surprisingly lightweight bowl-shaped tub carved from a wood she’d never seen before.

Marlys and Little Deer’s mother made a secluded spot away from the heat by draping a blanket from the lodge poles and bathed the child in the tepid mineral water. They carried her to her relocated bed, and Blue Water attempted to cover her. Marlys stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm. “Let’s allow her skin and body to cool.”

Blue Water settled back with a nod.

Marlys draped only a light covering over her torso and gave Little Deer spoonfuls of water. Roused by the cool bath, the girl swallowed thirstily.

Marlys dissolved fermented soybean and coriander into water, as well as a combination of honeysuckle and forsythia powders, and spoon-fed it to her. She Knows came and watched, asked to sniff and taste. Marlys explained the curative properties of the mixture. Although she didn’t understand the cause of Little Deer’s fever, she’d learned this restorative Chinese fever remedy as a last resort, and it seemed She Knows had already used her vast knowledge of medicines to try the more common options.

Marlys had the education to remember and apply therapies for symptoms, but she’d never felt as humble or inadequate as she did at that moment. “Lord, You are the Great Physician. Help me understand how to treat this child. Touch her with Your hand of mercy, in Jesus’s name.” She glanced at the dividing blanket and called softly, “Sam.”

“I’m here.”

“Pray.”