Читать книгу Cowboy Creek Christmas - Cheryl St. John - Страница 16
ОглавлениеAt the unaccustomed qualm in Marlys’s voice, Sam experienced a thread of concern. She now understood the magnitude of coming here and claiming an ability to help these people. If her treatment didn’t help the Cheyenne girl, and she worsened—or even worse, died—the Cheyenne could perceive it as intended harm on Marlys’s part. Right now there were more lives than Little Deer’s at stake.
“I’m praying,” he answered. “I have every confidence in you, and confidence in God to guide you and to heal the girl.”
He prayed. Time passed slowly. He took his journal from his satchel and wrote for an hour or more. James’s and Marlys’s quiet voices blended with the sound of the other children and their mothers and the crackle of the fire, and he may have dozed.
Becoming aware that the log had burned down, he went out and found a pile of cut wood and put another log on the fire. Unaccustomed to a stranger in their tent, the Indian women watched him warily.
There was nothing to do but wait right now, and his body grew tense from inaction. With a dozen eyes on him he went to his horse and unsheathed an ax, walking toward a stand of trees, where he pulled brush and fallen limbs into a pile and chopped a log into pieces. Periodically he left the ax in a limb to check on Marlys and James. Marlys was methodically checking each child and their mother for signs of sickness. She was treating a small boy when he went back to his task.
Eventually, a woman brought a sling and piled all the wood he’d chopped. It was the women’s job to find and cut wood, so she probably found his actions curious. But she did not protest. She carried the sling filled with firewood back to their communal pile several times. On her return, she brought him a steaming wooden bowl and handed it to him.
He nodded, drank the hot broth, and returned the bowl.
She wiped it out with snow and walked away.
Sam glanced at the sun. It was late afternoon. If they stayed much longer, they would be traveling home in the dark. He trudged back to the lodge and entered. The children were seated at the fire eating savory-smelling roasted meat. His belly rumbled. That broth hadn’t been filling.
“Marlys, we need to think about eating and leaving. We can’t travel in the dark.”
“You must be hungry. Get the basket I packed and share it with James.” She came around the side of the draped blanket. “I’m not leaving.”
He swallowed the first words that sprang to his tongue and pursed his lips in frustration. “We can’t stay. I have to get back to August.”
“You go. I’ll stay.”
“I’m not leaving you alone here.”
“I am not leaving tonight.”
James was seated far enough away to give Marlys, her patient and the girl’s mother privacy, but close enough to interpret. He got to his feet and stretched his legs. “What if I go back, keep August with Hannah and me overnight and come back in the morning?”
“I’ve learned enough words to communicate well enough,” Marlys agreed.
Sam ran a hand through his hair. Short of throwing her over his shoulder, he wasn’t going to get her to go back until she was ready. He might have figured as much. He glanced at the other children in the lodge, at James and back to Marlys. He raised a hand in defeat. “All right.”
She hurried toward him. “Thank you.”
“You didn’t leave me much choice. Let James know if there’s anything you want him to bring tomorrow. James, I’m going to get the basket of food. You’ll eat with us before you leave.”
Once the basket was opened, the curious children crept from their places and sat close. Sam broke off pieces of rye bread and piled them into a woven bowl. He gave away all the hardtack, and James passed on it, as well. In the Army, he’d eaten enough of the tasteless unleavened biscuits to last him a lifetime. The Cheyenne youngsters got over their shyness to accept the food and join them. Marlys unwrapped smoked fish, and the aroma drew the women forward, too.
The Cheyenne women gave their guests wooden bowls of roasted game and tender cooked roots. Marlys cut a dried apple pie into a dozen slivers, so each child and mother had a tiny piece.
James made them a pot of coffee with a dented pot he carried in his saddlebags, emptied it and packed to leave. “I’ll bring more food in morning.”
Sam walked to the edge of the camp with him.
“Nothing else we could’ve done,” James said.
“She’s immovable when she has her mind made up. I’ll pay you double.”
“Once we got here it didn’t seem like a job,” James admitted. “After seeing those children, I was thankful she planned this.”
Sam couldn’t disagree. “Safe trip home. Please tell August I’m well, not to worry, and I will be home tomorrow.”
He watched James ride away, said a prayer for his safety and another for August to feel safe that night, and trudged back to the lodge.
After the meal was cleared away, Marlys continued her examinations of the other children. None were as sick as Little Deer, and some were only there with a sibling who suffered from symptoms. She Knows had settled onto a pallet of furs, her watchful gaze on Marlys, but had seemingly acknowledged the white woman was there to help.
Marlys and Blue Water bathed Little Deer one more time as night fell. The child roused this time and watched Marlys with uncertain black eyes. Her mother spoke softly, soothing her. They had her settled for the night when a brave entered the lodge and swiftly crossed to the child’s side. He knelt beside her and spoke to Blue Water. She replied, and the Indian’s eyes settled on Marlys, taking in her hair, her now-wrinkled apron and the array of her supplies.
He returned his attention to what Marlys now assumed was his daughter, and gently touched her face and hands. The girl’s temperature had cooled considerably, but she was still warm. After a few minutes he left.
After tending to the fire, the mothers settled their children down for the night and lay beside them.
Marlys gave Little Deer more water and another dose of the remedy she’d prepared. Blue Water unrolled two pallets and gestured to Marlys and Sam.
“Néá’ee,” Marlys thanked her.
She glanced at Sam.
“I’m not leaving you alone,” he said. “I’ll be right here.”
“Nor do I want you to go.”
He slid one of the pallets several feet away from hers, in plain sight of all the women, and stretched out on top of the comfortable furs.
He listened more than watched as Marlys washed her face and hands and used what looked like a porcupine tail that one of the women handed her on her hair. She was a curiosity. She didn’t conform to what their society would consider feminine fashion. Her hair was uncommonly short, and her clothing functional and undecorated. He’d never seen her wear jewelry or drench herself in perfume. Instead, she smelled always like lavender and hyssop and other natural scents. Her movements, her voice, everything about her was feminine, even without ornamentation or fripperies.
Back during their short engagement in Philadelphia, they had discussed literature and politics, and he’d learned she was intelligent. She’d never hidden her desire for education or her interest in medicine, so he’d understood her ambition. But he’d never seen her as she’d been today. Fearless. Impervious. Undeterred. Compassionate. Kind.
He reeled those thoughts in as soon as they’d slipped into his consciousness. This was the woman who had broken off their engagement because of her ambitions. She didn’t have time or patience for a relationship. She wasn’t inclined to set her career aside and focus on a marriage. It was plain that she was still as determined as ever to broaden her scope of understanding and knowledge, to discover as much of the world as was possible.
People were who they were. She couldn’t be expected to change for him. He hadn’t expected it then. He didn’t expect it now.
She had needed his help to travel here, to make this happen. Another protector would have done just as well. She didn’t specifically need Sam.
That fact reached a nearly forgotten, well-guarded portion of his heart and carved a fresh slice. He closed his eyes against the shimmer of her hair in the firelight. The interior of this lodge was surprisingly warm, the skins beneath him soft. He dozed and dreamed of summer during his childhood.
* * *
Marlys slept lightly, checking on Little Deer and finding her sleeping more restfully. Before dawn she woke to sounds of the community outside the tipi and went to find the child’s fever gone. “Thank You, Lord.”
She woke Blue Water by gently touching her shoulder. The woman’s dark eyes opened in fear, and she sat, her terrified gaze darting to her child.
“No, she’s better,” Marlys told her. “Come see. Ho’eohe.”
The woman scrambled from her bed and leaned over Little Deer. She touched her face and neck, rolled back her covering and examined her arms and legs. Tears of joy formed in her eyes, and when she looked at Marlys, they fell unheeded. “Néá’ee. Éévaéše’tovóho.”
She touched her breast with the tips of her fingers and then touched Marlys’s chest.
Marlys smiled. She didn’t need a translator to understand Blue Water’s mother’s heart was grateful. She was no different than any other mother of any other people or skin color. Her heart was no different. Love knew no boundaries. Love translated into any language.
Sam and the other Cheyenne in the lodge woke and came near to see what was happening for themselves. She Knows shuffled forward in her fur boots, and Blue Water helped her lower herself to sit beside the child. She listened to her heart. Listened to her breathing, looked in her mouth, examined the bottom of her feet. She turned and spoke to one of the older children.
He pulled on a robe and darted from the tipi. Several minutes later he returned with Little Deer’s father and the chief. Woodrow Black Snake held a conversation with She Knows and Blue Water. They all nodded and gestured. He exited as suddenly as he’d arrived. Sam left the lodge while the Cheyenne mothers washed and groomed themselves and their children.
Blue Water brought Marlys fragrant mint water and twigs and indicated she should brush her teeth. She and another woman they called Neha brushed Marlys’s hair, while coating the strands with an unknown substance they lathered on their hands. They spoke in hushed tones, and Marlys guessed they wondered why her hair was cut so short. The process was disconcerting. Marlys’s mother had died when she was very young, and she’d taken care of her own needs for as long as she could remember. With persistent focus, however, they managed to secure short braids and fasten them with beaded leather strips.
They brought her coat and led her from the lodge across the encampment in the crisp morning air. The aromatic smell of cooking meat made her mouth water. Together they entered the chief’s tent, where Sam already waited. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at her appearance.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” she said. “I wish James would arrive.”
“I have a feeling it’s a celebration of some sort, and you’re the guest of honor.”
His assumption made sense after the women’s ministrations. “It’s a whole lot better than what I was imagining last night.”
He brought his gaze to hers. “You never let on that you had any doubts.”
She nodded. “No. I never let on.” She turned her gaze back to the gathering of Cheyenne before looking to Sam once more. “Thank you. For bringing me.”
He made a noncommittal sound.
They were seated across from the chief at the fire, and others crowded around them. The women served them roasted meat on a wooden platter, which they shared. Marlys tasted it and found it unlike anything she’d eaten, but tasty and tender.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Maybe elk or antelope,” he replied.
“Do you think sharing this food is a sacrifice for them? I mean, are we taking away from their winter supply?”
“They have meat hung in trees. If there’s no big game on the land where they’re allowed to hunt, the Army probably brought it to them.”
“They’re buffalo hunters, aren’t they?”
He nodded. “This tribe seems to have been left on their own and not relocated. The Army knows they’re here, so the Army is in a difficult situation, protecting the tribe while safeguarding settlers, as well. When the Indians are unable to hunt, they have to travel or starve. So if the Army is delivering supplies, they’re hoping to keep them here so they know where they are.”
Their discussion continued until James arrived and was given food.
“Red Bird told me the little girl is better today.”
“Our prayers worked,” she replied.
“And your Chinese remedy,” James added.
Sam nodded, surprising her.
“How did August fare the night?” Sam asked.
“He ate supper and played with the baby. Ava laughed and smiled at him. Hannah read to them for a while, then she made him a bed, and he went right to sleep. She was planning to walk him to school this morning.”
“Thank you,” Sam said.
It had been a sacrifice for Sam to remain here with her and not go home to his son. Marlys wouldn’t have blamed him for leaving last night, but she was thankful for his company and protection. She felt doubly indebted. Hannah had taken on additional duties for her sake, as well. “I will be happy to prepare a mineral bath treatment for Hannah to thank her.” She gave James a thankful smile. “She can bring the baby, and I’ll care for her while she relaxes.”
Before long James went out and returned with a crate holding jars of peaches. He opened several and indicated the mothers should share them with the children. The Cheyenne spoke among themselves, smiling and obviously enjoying the treat.
“Where did you get peaches?” she asked.
“I stopped at Remmy’s and bought all that Mrs. Herne had left for sale.”
“Thank you,” Marlys told him. “I’ll repay you.”
“No. This is my pleasure,” he said.
Two of the women took the jars and returned with them washed clean and set them before James. James spoke to them, and they nodded and smiled at each other, carrying away the basket of glass jars.
“I’m going to check on Little Deer and two other children, and then we can head home,” Marlys said.
They were headed back toward Cowboy Creek by midmorning. The ride home didn’t seem as long as the trip getting to the encampment. Marlys was justifiably satisfied with the experience. She had told She Knows that she would come again to bring her herbs and to learn about the roots and leaves the medicine woman used.
She offered to pay Sam and James, but both refused.
“Thank you, James,” she said as the two men unloaded crates at her office. “I couldn’t have made the trip without you.”
“I’m glad I joined you.”
“Perhaps you’d be willing to spend a few hours teaching me more Cheyenne?”
“Sure. I can meet whenever you want.” He mounted his horse and headed for the livery.
“You owe two days for the wagon,” she said to Sam. “I’ll pay.”
“I’ll let you pay for that,” he replied.
She took money from a metal lockbox and gave it to him. “Thank you for agreeing to go. And for taking the night away from August. I’m not much of a cook, but maybe I could take the two of you to supper one evening.”
“That would be nice.” He tucked the coins in his pocket.
* * *
News of her trip to the Cheyenne camp spread through town that week. When Marlys stopped at Booker & Son general store for supplies midweek, the skinny young man behind the counter held up one hand. “How.”
She gave him a puzzled frown.
“You heap big Injun doctor? Need something to smoke in your peace pipe?” He laughed heartily at his own joke. “Don’t see why you’re wasting your time with them anyway.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s your name?”
“Eugene. You’re the lady doctor, right?”
She held her irritation and asked, “Who is the owner of this establishment?”
“That would be Mr. Booker.”
Mr. Booker came out of the back, where the portly man had apparently overheard her question, and pushed his spectacles up his nose. “I’m Abram Booker. What can I do for you?”
“Young Eugene here seems to think it’s humorous to disparage potential customers.”
He turned to his employee. “What have you done now, Eugene?”
“I was just havin’ a little fun with the lady doc.”
“I didn’t find it fun or funny at all. And I can just as easily take all my business to Mr. Hagermann’s. He’s always respectful.”
Mr. Booker clenched his jaw. The store owner’s face turned red, and color crept all the way into his thinning hair. “Apologize to Dr. Boyd, Eugene.”
Eugene didn’t appear very pleased to submit to the demand. He lowered his chin to his skinny chest and held his body tense. Through tight lips, he said, “I’m sorry, Dr. Boyd. I didn’t mean no offense.”
“I accept your apology, Eugene. I strongly advise you to consider your words before speaking. It’s my belief that we have much to learn from other cultures, and when people respect one another, the exchange of information benefits everyone. You might find it ironic that I treated sick Cheyenne children with a Chinese remedy. Those children didn’t seem to mind when they got better.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Eugene, go sweep the back room now,” Mr. Booker instructed him. “What can I help you with today, Doctor?”
“I’d like to order an array of jars, similar to something you would use to display candy.”
“I can show you what I ordered for my own use.”
Abram Booker was helpful and courteous, and she didn’t see Eugene again while she was in the store.
Her next stop was to pick up the second pair of boots she’d ordered at Godwin’s. Opal was pleased to see her. “I want to accept your offer for a mineral bath,” she said. “What would be a good time? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“Any time is a good time,” Marlys replied. “Come right now if you like.”
“Well...” Opal glanced around the small boot shop. “Let me just check with Amos.”
Her husband was pleased to see his wife take time for herself and waved them off. It was a short walk to her office, with Opal carrying the baby, and Marlys let them in and put wood in the stove to heat water. It didn’t take long to fill one of the tubs.
“I’ve never seen bathing tubs like these,” Opal told her.
“They’re made deep and yet narrow, so the entire body can be immersed without using as much water as a larger oval tub takes.” Marlys added oils and minerals and dissolved them in the water. “I’ll take the baby and sit just outside. We’ll be fine.” She showed Opal the towels and told her to relax and take her time.
“Well, Richard, we’re getting to be friends, don’t you think?”
The bundled baby opened his eyes at her voice but soon closed them again. He squirmed a bit, and instinctively, she bounced him in her arms until he stilled. She’d been around more babies in her short time here than in her whole prior life. It was reassuring that after all the death and sorrow of the brothers’ war that civilization was now replenishing itself. It didn’t take a scholar to understand the psychology of bringing their country back to life with a new generation.
She felt a grave responsibility to the children, to August and all of these little ones. She had knowledge to share, skills to teach, and she needed to impart as much as she could—to leave her mark on history and make a difference.
She’d always been a hundred percent confident of her choices. She was still confident she’d been true to herself and her ideals. But a barely discernable question rose in her thoughts. Was she missing out on something? Would she eventually live to regret she had turned her back on relationships, on friendship, on marriage...on Sam?
