“I guess I better watch my step, then.”
“Just be your charming self,” she said.
As they headed for the office to pick up the packages they’d left there, Kincaid said, “And here I thought I was just going to have to be a good doctor.”
* * *
* * *
When they got back to the house Doc Edwin was napping, so Maggie went into the kitchen to begin dinner.
“Just the fact that he’s asleep tells me he’s not feeling right,” she told Kincaid. “I used to have to badger him to get him to take a rest.”
“Maybe he had a busy afternoon.”
“Most of his patients know enough not to come to the house,” she said. “I hope they left him alone.”
Kincaid was watching her from the kitchen door. Now he stood up straight.
“I’m going to have a listen to his breathing,” he said.
“What can you tell from that?”
“Quite a lot, actually,” Kincaid said.
“Will you let me know?”
“I’ll be back,” Kincaid said, and went off down the hall.
He stopped at Doc Edwin’s bedroom, stood there for several minutes listening to the old sawbones breathe, then turned and walked away.
“How is he?” Maggie asked when he reached the kitchen.
“I’m afraid he’s got some fluid in his lungs,” Kincaid said.
She made a face.
“That sounds bad.”
“It won’t be good, if it’s not treated.”
“How?”
“Actually,” he said, “Nora’s apothecary had just the thing on her shelves. I’ll have to go back there tomorrow and pick some up.”
“If he knows it came from there—”
“I’ll just tell him I had some in my bag,” Kincaid said. “I’ll get him to take it, and maybe you can stay here with him while I go to the office.”
“There still needs to be a lot of smoothing of the way for you,” she pointed out.
“I’ll try it on my own tomorrow and see how it goes,” he said. “Does Doc get a lot of children as patients?”
“He gets everyone, of all ages,” she said, “since he’s the only doctor in town. Or he was, for a long time. With the children it’s mostly scrapes and bruises, some broken bones now and then.”
“And the female patients?”
“Mostly babies,” she said. “Sometimes a cough or something.”
“And the men?”
“Ah,” she said, “there you have everything from sniffles to stab wounds and gunshots. There are also cowhands coming in with all sorts of injuries, and farmers.”
“It all sounds like things I can handle,” Kincaid said.
“You might have some trouble getting the men to let you treat them, like today,” she warned him.
“If they’re bleeding they’ll let me, or bleed to death,” he pointed out. “Anything less than that and they’ll survive.”
“And you didn’t get to meet any of the town council today, let alone our mayor.”
“Well,” he said, “you and Doc can tell me about them over supper. Right now I’m going to make use of that outhouse in back.”
“There’s a barrel back there to wash up in,” she told him.
“Thanks. I’ll be on the porch when supper is ready,” he said, and went out the back door.
* * *
* * *
Doc Edwin woke for supper and over beef stew asked Kincaid how his day went.
“It was as expected,” Kincaid said. “I saw some patients, had some turn away when they saw you weren’t there.”
“Nobody came by here,” Edwin said. “I should go to the office tomorrow, see if they come back.”
“I think you should stay put, Doc,” Kincaid said. “Let me have another day to try and fit in. If anybody is so bad they need treatment and won’t take it from me, I can send them over here.”
“That might work,” Edwin said. “If it wasn’t for this gimpy knee—”
“I’m going to stay here tomorrow, too, Doc,” Maggie said. “Give Gabriel a chance to fend for himself.”
“You think that’s wise?” the old sawbones asked.
“It’s his idea,” Maggie said. “You should’ve seen him today, charming the kids and their mothers. Now he just has to work on the men.”
“They’ll come around,” Kincaid said. “They’ll have to.”
“You’re makin’ progress faster than I imagined,” Doc Edwin said. “You even look better.”
“I give Mrs. Shipley the credit for that,” Kincaid said. “And Maggie.”
“Well, they did a good job,” Doc Edwin said, grudgingly.
Maggie looked at Doc Edwin’s half empty plate.
“Are you going to finish your supper, Doc?” she asked.
“I’ve had enough,” Edwin said. He looked at Kincaid. “You finish eatin’ and then come out to the porch for a cigar.”
“All right, Doc.”
Edwin stood up and limped from the room.
“It’s that fluid in his lungs, I think,” Kincaid said. “Once I start treating him, his appetite should come back.”
“Will you start tomorrow?”
“I’ll stop by the apothecary in the morning,” Kincaid said. “Get the first dose into him in the afternoon.”
“What if he doesn’t want it?” she asked.
“Then I’ll use my charm,” Kincaid said, and Maggie laughed.
* * *
* * *
When Kincaid joined Doc Edwin on the porch he brought two cups of coffee with him.
“Thanks,” Edwin said. He took the coffee, offered Kincaid a cigar.
“No thanks,” Kincaid said. “I can still taste the one I had last night.”
“I don’t blame ya,” Edwin said. “They’re pretty cheap.”
“You know,” Kincaid said, “with that fluid in your lungs you shouldn’t be smoking.”
“You can hear that, huh?” Doc Edwin asked, sourly.
“While you were asleep.”
Edwin looked over at him.
“You got some new miracle drug for that, besides tellin’ me to stop smokin’?”
“We’ll get to that tomorrow.”
Edwin looked straight ahead and puffed on his cheroot.
“Don’t think I’m gonna be your guinea pig.”
Kincaid sipped his coffee and fanned the cheroot smoke away with his hand.
CHAPTER EIGHT
In the morning Kincaid was waiting in front of the apothecary when Nora opened.
“Dr. Kincaid!” she said, surprised. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Well, something’s come up,” he said, entering the store.
She stood in front of him and asked, “How can I help?”
“I need to perform a thoracentesis,” he said.
“Oh? May I ask, on who?”
“Doc Edwin.”
“Oh my,” she said. “Does he know—”
“He doesn’t, not yet,” Kincaid said. “He thinks I have a miracle drug for the problem.”
“Well,” she said, “it’s not a miracle drug, but green tea has been known to be effective.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ll be buying some of that, too, but I need these items.” He gave her a list. Right at the top were the needles he would be using.
“Oh my,” she said, again. “Have you performed this procedure before?”
“Once or twice,” he said, then added, “in medical school.”
“Well,” she said, “let me get these things together.”
“Thank you.”
As she walked around the shop, taking things from shelves and cabinets, she asked. “Do you know Doc
Edwin’s age?”
“Not exactly,” he said, “but I assume he’s eighty or so.”
“Will he be able to withstand this procedure?”
“I think he’s a pretty ornery old fella,” Kincaid said. “That might do it.”
“I hope so,” she said. “This is a pretty invasive procedure.”
“I’ll be as gentle as I can,” he assured her.
She turned suddenly to face him, looking chagrined.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m talking to a doctor like I know better, and I don’t. Forgive me.”
“That’s all right,” he said, “but I am in a hurry. I need to get to his office to meet patients.”
“Of course,” she said, carrying the items he needed to the counter. “Since you’ll probably be my best customer from now on, would you like to start a tab?”
Her question reminded him that he had brought every cent he had to his name with him and needed to open a line of credit. As far as purchasing medical supplies, that should probably be done from the money the practice brought in.
“That sounds like a good idea,” he said. “Thank you.”
She wrapped his items, consisting of needles, tubes, a basin, and the green tea, then made a note of the cost for herself, and for him.
“There,” she said, handing everything to him. “I hope it goes all right.”
“We’ll find out tonight,” he said. “Thank you very much, Miss . . .”
“Just call me Nora . . . Gabriel,” she said.
“Thank you, Nora,” he said, and left.
* * *
* * *
When Kincaid reached Doc Edwin’s office he found two patients waiting at the door. One was a woman with a child, the other a man with a bandana wrapped around a bloody arm.
“I’m sorry, folks,” he said, “come on in.”
“Ain’t the doc here?” the man asked. “I got a pretty bad cut—”
“I’m Dr. Kincaid. I’ll be working with Doc for a while. Right now he’s recovering from an injury of his own. I can take care of you—”
“I dunno,” the man said. He was in his fifties, but Kincaid figured a lot of the lines in his face at the moment were from the pain. “Maybe I can go to his house?”
“Doc Edwin won’t be able to help you right now, sir,” Kincaid said. “I can stop that bleeding and patch you up. Or you can wait, possibly get an infection . . . you might even lose that arm.”
“Oh, come on, Dan Perkins!” the woman scolded. “Let the doctor patch you up so he can see to my Danny’s ear.” She looked at Kincaid. “It hurts him something fierce: I hada keep him home from school today.”
“Well,” Kincaid said, “I can look at him while Mr. Perkins makes up his mind . . . but maybe you could stop bleeding all over the floor, sir. Perhaps wait outside?”
“No, no,” Perkins said. “I don’t wanna lose my arm. Yeah, okay, you do it . . . Doc.”
“All right,” Kincaid said, “come in the other room with me . . . I’ll get to Danny’s ear as soon as possible, ma’am.”
“That’s all right,” she said. “I suppose a bloody arm is more important.”
“This way, Mr. Perkins . . .”
* * *
* * *
Kincaid got the bleeding stopped on Perkins’s arm, patched it up, and advised the man to handle his farm implements with more care.
As for young Danny’s ear, there was nothing wrong there. Kincaid suspected Danny just didn’t want to go to school that morning. So when he produced a set of pincers, as if he were going to reach into the boy’s ear with them, Danny suddenly proclaimed that he felt better.
“That’s good,” Kincaid said. “You’ve still got time to make the rest of the school day.”
“I don’t like the new schoolmarm,” Danny complained.
“Why would you say that, Danny?” his mother asked. “Mrs. Cottrell is a very nice lady.”
“Abigail Cottrell?” Kincaid asked, remembering the woman he’d met on the train.
“Do you know her?” the mother asked.
“Slightly,” Kincaid said. “We came to town on the same train.”
“Well, don’t listen to Danny,” the mother said. “She’s very nice.”
“I usually make my own decisions about schoolmarms,” Kincaid told her.
The lady settled her bill and then took Danny straight to school.
After seeing a few more patients that morning, Kincaid picked up his apothecary purchases and headed back to Doc Edwin’s house for the afternoon.
* * *
* * *
Kincaid found Maggie in the kitchen but didn’t see Doc Edwin anywhere.
“Where is he?” he asked.
She turned her back to the stove and gave an exasperated look.
“He hitched up the buggy and drove out just a little while ago.”
“He knew I was coming back to treat him,” Kincaid said.
“I’m sure that’s why he left,” she said.
“Where did he go?”
“Mrs. Manning is almost ready to drop her baby,” Maggie said. “He might be there.”
Kincaid walked to the back door, then stopped as he realized one of the things he hadn’t yet bought for himself was a horse.
“How far is it?” he asked Maggie.
“Doc took the buggy because he can’t walk, but you could make it, easy.”
Kincaid listened while Maggie gave him directions, then left to walk there immediately. It was halfway across town, but not a difficult walk—unless, of course, you were eighty and had a bum knee.
When he reached the small, ramshackle house he knocked on the weathered door and waited. The doctor’s buggy was right out front. The door was opened by a frazzled-looking man in his thirties.
“Yes?”
“I’m looking for Dr. Edwin.”
“He’s—he’s in with my wife,” the man said. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Dr. Kincaid. I work with him.”
“Oh, then you better come in.” He grabbed Kincaid’s arm and yanked him through the doorway. “I think Doc might be havin’ some trouble.”
“Where are they?”
“The bedroom. Come on.”
Again he grabbed Kincaid’s arm and dragged him across the floor. When they entered the room he saw Doc Edwin sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands between a young woman’s outstretched legs.
“Your partner’s here, Doc,” the father-to-be said.
“Eh? Partner?” Doc Edwin turned and his eyes widened when he saw Kincaid. “Ah, you!”
“He said he’s a doctor,” the husband said.
“And he is,” Edwin said. “Wait outside, Tommy, and close the door.”
“But, Doc—”
“Out!”
Tommy left and closed the door. The woman on the bed was grimacing in pain. Doc Edwin stood up and limped to where Kincaid was standing.
“I don’t know why you’re here,” Edwin said, “but I’m glad you are.”
“What’s the trouble?”
“This is her first baby,” Edwin said, “and it’s coming out the wrong way.”
“Breech?”
“Whatever you call it,” Edwin said, shaking his head. “My goddamn hands are too shaky, and I’m not strong enough—can you help her?”
“I’ll try.”
There was a basin of water nearby, which was still warm. Kincaid washed his hands in it, then sat on the bed next to the woman.
“What’s her name?” he asked Edwin.
“Betty.”
Betty’s eyes were closed at the moment.
“Betty! Open your eyes!”
She did, and when she saw Kincaid she was alarmed.
“Who are you?
” she demanded. “Where’s Tommy?”
“Betty, this is Dr. Kincaid,” Doc Edwin said, standing behind Kincaid. “Tommy’s in the other room.”
“W-what’s happening, Doc?” she demanded. “Is my baby all right?”
“Your baby’s fine, Betty,” Kincaid said, “but I’m afraid he or she is being a little stubborn.”
“Whataya mean?”
“The little tyke is facing the wrong way,” Kincaid explained. “Trying to come out bottom first, and we can’t have that.”
“W-what will we do?” she asked.
“I’m going to turn your baby around and bring him or her out head first. I just need you to work with me, and do whatever I tell you.”
“Doc?” she said, looking at the old sawbones.
“Do what he says, Betty,” Doc Edwin said. “Dr. Kincaid knows what he’s doin’.”
She looked at Kincaid again and said, “A-all right.”
“Now, the first thing I want you to do,” Kincaid said, “is not push.”
CHAPTER NINE
Tommy heard the baby cry, then saw the bedroom door open.
“You can go in, Tommy,” Kincaid said. “You have a son.”
“How’s Betty?” he asked.
“She’s fine, and so’s the baby,” Kincaid said. “They’re waiting for you.”
Tommy pumped Kincaid’s hand. “Thanks, Doc.”
He rushed into the bedroom, also pumped Doc Edwin’s hand, then went to the bed, where Betty was holding the baby.
Doc Edwin came out and looked at Kincaid.
“You did a fine job.”
“It was touch and go, especially when the cord went around the baby’s neck,” Kincaid said. “But they don’t have to know that.”
Edwin stared down at his hands.
“Ten years ago I would’ve been able to . . .” he started, then let it trail off. “I’m gonna talk to Betty a little, make sure Tommy knows what to do, and then we can go. How’d you get here?”
“I walked.”
“You can ride back with me.”
“Sounds good.”
Ralph Compton Frontier Medicine Page 5
