Читать книгу Cowboy Creek Christmas: Mistletoe Reunion - Cheryl St.John - Страница 13

Chapter Three

“The soldiers are unable to accompany me,” she continued. “They said I’d need an escort.”

“Indeed you will if you persist with this plan. If you don’t mind me asking, why do you want to go there?”

“I want to see if they need medical attention.”

“They’re Cheyenne, Marlys. They have their own medicine.”

His use of her given name startled her, and she looked at him more closely. His ebony hair had a disheveled look, as though he’d run a hand through it recently. His furrowed brow showed only concern. He had a half-inch-long curved scar on his cheekbone under his left eye that she hadn’t noticed before. It was still pink, as though it was fairly new.

“That’s another of my reasons for wanting to meet them,” she admitted, tucking the receipt into her pocket.

He nodded, but his look of censure remained. “It wouldn’t be safe. Relations between the Army, the settlers and the Indians are touchy. There are entire regiments assigned to protection when those provisions are delivered. It’s not unusual for the Sioux to try to steal goods from the Cheyenne.”

“I don’t have anything to steal, and they have no reason to fear me.”

“That’s naive thinking, doctor. You don’t want to land yourself right in the middle of unexpected danger.”

She gave her head a little shake. “You’re entitled to your opinion.”

“You’re a bullheaded woman.”

“Which is why I will ask for a guide at the hotel and the sheriff’s office if you don’t have any better suggestions.”

“You’ve made up your mind you’re going.”

“I have.”

“I’ll find a scout and go with you, then.”

“You?”

“Is that so hard to imagine? I spent the whole of the war in the Army. How about you? Do you ride well?”

“I do.”

“When would you like to go?”

“Thursday?”

“I’ll meet you here at seven, then.”

* * *

Ben’s sergeant was with him when Marlys returned. “Is Private Cross able to be moved to the hotel?” he asked. “I will engage another private to stay with him.”

“Mr. Cross should be fine as long as he keeps his weight off that foot for at least another few days. I have crutches he can borrow until then, so he can get around unassisted. I’ve learned they have two small rooms on the ground floor, so ask for one of those.”

“I have to admit I wouldn’t have believed how good his foot looks in only a few days if I hadn’t seen the difference myself.”

“He was fortunate,” Marlys replied. “Nothing was broken, and his friends got him here quickly.”

“He was fortunate you were the doctor they brought him to.” He took bills from a flat purse on his belt and handed them to her.

“You already paid me,” she said.

“Even this amount is inadequate for your services. He will be back with the regiment soon. He may have been forced to leave the Army had you not healed his foot.”

“God created the body to do the healing itself. I simply treat the symptoms in a manner that best advances the process.” She accepted the payment. “Thank you.” She gathered Ben’s belongings and ushered them to the door.

A minute later, she patted the cash in her pocket. She now had the time and the funds to have some additional work done to her office. First thing she would do was find someone to install a secure lock on her medicine pantry. Many of her tinctures and oils could be harmful if used improperly. She gathered the laundry and headed out. After dropping off yet another heavy bag, she paid to have it delivered, then carried her clean clothing items to the boardinghouse. After putting them away in her temporary room, she found Aunt Mae bustling about the kitchen.

“Hello, dear,” the short, round woman said with an easy smile. “There’s certainly a lot of talk in town today, and you’re the topic of one choice tidbit.”

“The soldier’s injury, I presume,” she said.

“Yes, that.” She sliced two loaves of bread in deft strokes. “How is the fellow doing?”

“Quite well. His sergeant just took him to the hotel to finish recuperating.”

“And have you heard all the talk about Quincy Davis’s mail-order bride?”

Marlys puzzled over that one. “Wasn’t he the previous sheriff who was killed?”

“Precisely. But unbeknownst to everyone, he’d sent for an Austrian bride, and she arrived ready to give birth. Leah, the midwife—do you know her?—attended to her, and the blacksmith married her on the spot so her baby would have a name and a father.”

That seemed like a hasty decision, but she addressed the medical aspect. “Is she faring well?”

“Seems it was touch and go for a long while. Doc Fletcher couldn’t be reached.”

“Someone should have sent for me.”

“Leah’s a competent midwife.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“Stay for lunch as long as you’re here. I made a hearty soup and this warm bread. You skip too many meals, and they’re included in your rent.”

“Thank you.” She carried the basket of bread to the dining room, where the boarders were just settling into their places.

Old Horace was probably in his seventies, and wore his long gray hair in a tail down his back. Gus Russell had a white beard and was probably about the same age. In summer the two of them played horseshoes in the lot behind Booker & Son. Sunny days in winter afforded them afternoons on a bench in front of the mercantile. They knew all the comings and goings of the residents and newcomers. Though they often contradicted each other, their friendship was obvious.

“Howdy, Doc Boyd. Heard about the little German baby born last night?” Horace asked.

“He ain’t German. He’s Austrian,” Gus corrected.

“Same thing, ain’t it?”

“Same language, but different countries,” Marlys said. “There are different inflections in their dialects.”

Gus licked his lips at the steaming bowl Aunt Mae sat before him. “You speak German?”

“I do. I’m looking for someone to teach me Cheyenne.”

Gus squinted at her.

She seated herself and thanked the proprietress. She tasted the hearty soup. “I’m also looking for someone to install a lock on a storage pantry. Is there a local locksmith?”

“The farrier does locks,” Horace told her. “Colton Werner’s his name.”

“He’s the blacksmith who married the Austrian woman,” Aunt Mae explained.

“So, I’d find him at the livery to the north on this same street?”

“That’s the one,” the woman replied. “Speaking of newcomers, we have a new boarder. Georgia Morris is her name. She’s here to make a marriage, so she won’t last long.” She eyed Marlys. “Are you making friends in Cowboy Creek?”

Sam had asked the same question. Why did everyone want to know? While she wasn’t averse to having friends, she had simply never had the time. “I haven’t been here long enough.”

“Maybe, but you’ve stayed to yourself for the most part. There’s church service on Sundays, and this week there’s a gathering afterward. You should go. Just meet people. They’ll be more likely to trust you with their medical concerns if you’ve made their acquaintance.”

Marlys studied the older woman thoughtfully. As a doctor, she had a lot working against her, to be honest. She was a woman in a man’s profession in a man’s land. She didn’t practice conventional medicine. She had never been outgoing or personable. She didn’t care about fitting in, but perhaps giving the appearance of fitting in would make her more appealing and earn trust. Aunt Mae was genial and well-meaning, and she had no lack of helpful opinions. Marlys appreciated learning, so perhaps there was something to be learned from this woman everyone liked.

Marlys finished her lunch and thanked her landlady.

The blacksmith was a large man with a nice face and scarred hands. He listened to her explain what she needed, and told her he’d be able to do the work the following day.

She stopped at Godwin’s boot and shoe shop, and a thin brown-haired woman wearing a print dress and a white apron greeted her. “Good afternoon. I’m Opal Godwin. Can I help you?”

Marlys removed her scarf. “I hope so. My boots get wet so often, they’re never dry by the next time I go out. I need another pair.”

“It’s going to be a long winter,” the woman said with a smile. “Have a seat and I’ll draw your foot for my husband.” She knelt and unlaced Marlys’s boots. “Are you Miss Morris?”

“No, I’m Dr. Boyd.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about you from Pippa. Sorry I haven’t made it over to welcome you. I’ve been busier than usual.”

The fact that she’d meant to stop over heartened Marlys. “That’s quite all right.”

“Your boots are very well-made.”

“And comfortable. I want practical and comfortable.”

A thready high-pitched cry arose from the rear of the room. Opal placed a hand over her breast and glanced up. “It never fails. He cries as soon as I’m busy. And I’m always busy.”

“Bring him to me while you do that. I’ll hold him.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. It’s practical.”

Opal returned with a baby wrapped in a white crocheted blanket. He looked to be only a few weeks old. Marlys looked him over, even listened to his breathing and held him up to rest her ear against his chest. He flailed his arms, so she tucked him snugly back in the blanket. “His heart and lungs sound healthy. He appears to be a sturdy child.”

Opal blinked at her, and then smiled. “I was extremely exhausted while I carried him, but Richard’s a good eater and is growing.”

“You probably needed more minerals and protein in your diet. Nourishing him depletes your own reserves. Are you eating well now?”

“Yes.”

“Drink as much milk as you can. I can make a supplement that will help you, too.”

Opal appeared somewhat uncomfortable with her suggestion.

“I suppose you’ve heard things about me.”

“No, it’s just that Leah is my friend...”

“And the midwife, I understand.”

Opal nodded.

“Well, talk to her first, and then come to see me if you choose.”

Opal drew patterns of both of Marlys’s feet on brown paper and wrote on them. She showed her leather samples, and Marlys chose a supple dark brown.

“And we’ll make you a sturdy heel. Just enough to be fashionable, but not so much as to lose comfort.”

“Perhaps another fur-lined pair as well as a pair for indoors,” she decided.

Opal looked pleased. “I’ll show you the styles we have.”

Marlys chose a style, and Opal wrote notes for her husband.

Baby Richard had fallen asleep in her arms, and Marlys took a moment to admire his downy hair and tiny rosebud lips. What had Sam’s son looked like as an infant? She imagined wispy black hair and round cheeks.

“Your first pair should be ready in less than a week.”

Marlys looked from the baby to the eyes of the new mother. She remembered what Aunt Mae had said about people trusting her if she made friends. Her heart beat faster against the weight of the baby, but she opened her mouth to speak. “It’s a lot to get used to caring for a new baby, isn’t it?”

“It is, but he’s a blessing.”

“If you come by my office, I’d love to prepare a mineral bath for you. Just to relax for an hour or so. I’ll make a bed for Richard, or I’ll hold him. My treat.”

Opal’s brown eyes showed her surprise, but also appreciation. “Thank you, Dr. Boyd. I’ve heard only good things about your mineral bath treatments from Pippa.”

Marlys stood and, after another tender look at the baby, handed Richard to his mother, then laced up her boots. Maybe it wouldn’t be all that difficult to make friends. It would be nice to feel accepted—and a little less alone. “I’ll check back next week.”

“If they’re finished sooner, I’ll bring your boots to you.”

Marlys smiled and headed back to her office.

* * *

The first edition of the Webster County Daily News came off the press the following day. Sam and Israel folded, stacked and bundled papers. The sun came out as though in celebration of the big day. Accompanied by August, the three of them traveled the streets of Cowboy Creek, where melting snow formed ruts of oozing mud. Sam cleaned his boots on the iron scraper in front of Remmy Hagermann’s mercantile. He’d already made arrangements with as many stores as possible to keep a stack of newspapers until he replaced any old ones with new.

Remmy greeted him with a smile and a wave. “The first edition, eh?”

“It’s here.”

“I’m looking forward to actual news. Our last newspaperman skewed everything to make situations look bleak. We all figured it out too late. He was undermining the town for his own cause. We’re glad to have you. You’re a newspaper legend. When we learned you were coming to Kansas, I ordered a couple dozen copies of your book, and they all sold.”

“Much obliged, Mr. Hagermann.”

Remmy picked up the top newspaper and read the headlines. One eyebrow climbed his forehead. “‘Cowboy Creek’s First Female Doctor Sees Results with Progressive Medicine.’ The Boyd woman, I reckon.”

“Yes, Dr. Boyd is a most interesting woman.”

“I heard she learned Chinese medicine at a peculiar university.”

He had his own doubts about her education and practices, but he would stay neutral. “You’ll find the article about her education informative. She’s quite forthcoming about her beliefs. And statistically, the Chinese are remarkably healthy.”

Remmy glanced up from the paper and eyed Sam. “Yeah?”

“I’ll be doing another article in a couple of weeks. After reading about her you may find that many of her treatments are more logical and humane than commonly accepted practices. Cowboy Creek is growing. There’s more than one mercantile. I suppose there’s enough patients for two or more doctors.”

Remmy had opened his mercantile after Zimmerman’s and cleverly catered to women to attract a good share of customers. He didn’t argue with Sam’s reasoning. Instead he looked over the other articles. “Like I said, nice to have a paper again. Suppose I’ll run an advertisement in the next one.”

“I’ll give you a discount on your first ad,” Sam assured him.

Remmy glanced through the front window at August waiting on the boardwalk. “That your boy?”

“Yes, that’s August.”

“Works with you on the paper, does he?”

“Mostly he’s adjusting to a new school. Hannah Johnson watches him a couple of afternoons until I finish work.”

“Reverend Taggart’s daughter, the dressmaker?”

“That’s right. I was surprised when Hannah offered to take August for a few hours a week, but I’m grateful.” Sam headed for the door. “Come see me for that ad.”

Sam pulled the cart holding papers over the muddy ruts, and Israel joined them. He had taken papers to the railroad station. The three made their way north on Lincoln Boulevard, so they would pass Dr. Boyd’s office on their way back to Eden Street. August grabbed a paper, and Sam pushed open the door, which rang a bell. Israel followed.

A pleasant mixture of unusual smells hung in the air. A row of plain wood chairs lined one wall, all empty. A large rug, obviously new, covered the varnished wood floor in the waiting area.

Marlys stepped from an open doorway to greet them. “Good morning.”

August extended the newspaper he held.

“We brought you a paper so you could see the article,” Sam explained. “Israel, meet Dr. Boyd. This is Israel, my journeyman.”

Marlys leaned toward the young man. Israel removed his heavy glove and shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Doctor.”

“My pleasure. Let me grab a coin so I can pay you.”

“No, this one’s complimentary,” Sam said quickly.

“Thank you.” She unfolded the paper and studied the front page. She couldn’t have missed the caption about her practice, but she read aloud another. “‘President Johnson Proclaims a Day of Praise, Thanksgiving and Prayer.’” She glanced up at him. “It sounds like Andrew Johnson believes our country has turned a corner, politically, economically. He’s giving people permission to hope again.”

Sam nodded. “In his proclamation he talks about the abundance of jobs, crops, harmony in this country.”

Marlys read aloud, “‘I therefore recommend that Thursday, the 26th day of November next, be set apart and observed by all people of the United States as a day for public praise, thanksgiving, and prayer to the Almighty Creator and Divine Ruler of the Universe, by whose ever-watchful, merciful, and gracious providence alone states and nations, no less than families and individual men, do live and move and have their being.’”

“What does it mean, Papa?”

Sam looked into his son’s curious blue eyes. “It means even though we’ve been through a lot as a country, losing family and friends in war, that we have a lot to be thankful for. Like our freedom. So there will be one day set aside when everyone is thankful together.”

“The town is putting together a celebration. Mrs. Kendricks suggested I volunteer for the committee,” she said. “Perhaps it’s not a bad idea. I do need to meet people, so they will learn to trust me.”

“That’s good advice. I made up my mind to delve into town projects and affairs as soon as I arrived, so people learn to see me as one of their own.”

“While you’re here,” she said, “I’ve made something for you. Follow me.”

She turned and left them standing.