Yesterday's Roses

by Heather Cullman

  “He keeps out the riffraff,” Jake replied. Closing his eyes and wearily tipping his head back against the chair, he amended, “Well, usually.”

  Seth Tyler’s only reply was a deep chuckle. Unperturbed by his friend’s surly mood, he closed the door and strode over to the sideboard, where he paused to study the contents of several cut-crystal decanters. After a moment of serious deliberation, he settled on the same fine, perfectly aged Kentucky whiskey that Jake had been abusing earlier. At home in his surroundings, Seth poured himself a liberal portion of the strong liquid. He took an experimental sip and then grinned, satisfied with his selection.

  Throwing an appreciative look in Jake’s direction, he proceeded to drape himself casually onto the butter-soft black leather sofa, propping his long legs comfortably over the arm.

  The men sat in silence for several minutes, Jake unnerved by Serena’s relentless wailing and Seth groping for something to say that would distract his friend from his troubles.

  It was Seth who spoke first. “When I met Hop on the street, he was mumbling something about a lady doctor.”

  “I have engaged a lady doctor to deliver Serena’s baby,” Jake replied, not bothering to open his eyes. “Judging from the infernal racket upstairs, it would seem that she isn’t having any better luck with Serena than her male predecessors did.”

  Serena Parrish was notorious among the members of San Francisco’s medical profession. So violently had she resisted various doctors’ efforts to examine her during her pregnancy that, with the exception of the pompous Dr. Barnes, all had refused to tend her a second time.

  Jake snorted as a particularly earsplitting howl penetrated the thick library walls. “It sounds like my wife is in rare form this evening. I expect that lady doctor to come flying down the stairs and out the front door any minute now.”

  Finally opening his eyes, he glanced despairingly toward his friend, only to exclaim, “Good God, Seth! What the hell is that you’re wearing?” His eyes widened incredulously at the intense hue of Seth’s modish attire.

  Seth picked an imaginary piece of lint from his Chinese blue kerseymere coat. “You like it? I’m told it’s the latest thing from London.”

  “And you believed it?” exclaimed Jake with genuine disbelief. His friend had become somewhat of a peacock of late, but this was extreme even by Seth Tyler’s rather excessive standards. At first his rebellion had been confined to his hair. His belligerent refusal to conform to the neat styles of the day had resulted in the thick, leonine mane that now fell below his wide shoulders. And bad had quickly gone to worse.

  If it weren’t for Seth’s blatant masculinity and the hard, dangerous glint behind his hazel eyes, there probably would have been serious questions raised about his sexual preferences. Still, despite his affected mode of dress, Seth remained a favorite among the ladies. Though he lacked Jake’s breathtaking good looks, he had a rugged appeal which had quickened many a heart. It was rare to see Seth without at least one beautiful woman clinging to his arm, and any social event would find him surrounded by a bevy of beauties, listening to his outrageous tales with big, worshipful eyes.

  “Wouldn’t hurt you to add a dash of color to your own dull wardrobe, you know,” Seth offered amiably, pleased that his colorful attire had temporarily distracted Jake from the situation upstairs. Deciding that a bit of good-natured jesting was in order, he added, “You might be surprised to find how far a few bright garments could go in improving that foul disposition of yours.”

  “I hardly think that blue-and-red checkered trousers would do much to bolster my spirits,” groaned Jake, contemplating the article in question with a jaundiced eye.

  “Tsk, tsk, Jake. You may have become dull in your old age, but I’ve never known you to be close-minded.” Seth critically examined Jake’s understated yet fashionably cut garments for a moment. Then he teased slyly, “My tailor has a bolt of violet broadcloth that would be just perfect for you.”

  “Hmm. Violet broadcloth? Does he have a nice roll of Valenciennes lace for trim?”

  “I thought Alençon lace would be more appropriate, but if you insist on Valenciennes …” Seth grinned broadly at the thought of the supremely virile Jake Parrish parading around San Francisco decked out in violet broadcloth and lace frills. At the sound of Jake’s rich baritone laugh joining him in his merriment, Seth realized with a sudden tinge of poignancy how much he missed the quick humor of the old Jake.

  “Do my ears deceive me?” Seth lightly cuffed the side of his head in mock disbelief. “The somber Jake Parrish actually letting a laugh cross his dour lips?” He sat up and bent forward to peer into his friend’s face with feigned concern. “Perhaps I should take it easier on you next time we spar. I gave you a couple of masterful blows to the head last week. It seems as if I might have cracked that thick skull of yours after all.”

  Jake smiled at Seth’s friendly baiting. Both men knew that before the war, Jake had reigned supreme as the boxing champion at the Olympic Club and Seth had never had a prayer of tumbling him from his throne.

  But that was before Jake had been wounded. Now it took almost all his effort just to remain on his feet, much less inflict any real damage. Still, Seth’s good-natured heckling was contagious, and Jake laughed. “It would take more than your paltry efforts to crack this stubborn head. Speaking of heads, how did yours feel the next morning?”

  “Enlightened.”

  “Enlightened? Such as the kind of enlightenment that comes from finally succeeding in luring the luscious Mary Ellen Palmer into your bed?” asked Jake with great interest.

  “Enlightenment such as to why Reverend DeYoung is so persistent in his railings against the evils of alcohol. I felt like hell!” The memory was enough to make Seth regard his glass of whiskey with less enthusiasm.

  Jake laughed at his friend’s pained expression. “Too bad. I was almost looking forward to hearing the tasteless details of your amorous adventures with Mary Ellen.”

  “What’s this about Mary Ellen?”

  “Well, you did mention Miss Palmer during the course of the evening.” A wicked gleam entered Jake’s eyes as Seth’s face paled. “Actually, you did more than mention her. It seems as if you were intent on banging at her door and dragging her off to your bed. Not, mind you, that she probably would have protested too loudly. I’d guess it would be just the opportunity she’s been waiting for. Everyone knows that there is nothing she would like better than to have a reason to trap you in her marriage-hungry grasp.”

  Seth groaned. “Lord, I hope you talked some sense into me! The last thing I need is to have Mary Ellen sobbing over her lost virtue and demanding marriage.”

  “Rather like the scene she played for Frank Wilson last month?”

  “Or the one she so dramatically portrayed for Michael Burris the month before that,” added Seth with a whimsical smirk.

  “Thankfully, you were too drunk to drag anyone off to bed—yourself included. The last I saw of you was when you were being led rather unsteadily up to bed by that long-suffering manservant of yours.” Jake grinned at the memory of his friend being hauled up the stairs while singing snatches from a filthy ditty.

  “Well, then, let’s hear it for the intoxicating effects of fine brandy!” suggested Seth, raising his glass in a mock salute. “And to equally intoxicating women. Speaking of which, what’s this about a woman doctor?”

  Jake stared at Seth blankly for a second. True to form, Seth had distracted him from his troubles. His friend had a great talent for making him laugh, even in the worst situations. Jake would always be in debt to Seth for the way he had stayed by him in those agonizing days after he had been wounded. When the pain had been wrenching and Jake was sure he couldn’t endure another second of the torment, Seth would invariably say or do something outrageous that would draw his mind away from his misery.

  “Well? Is she a delectable piece?” A m
ischievous grin twisted Seth’s lips. “Say, you might have her take a look at that leg of yours. Considering where the scar is located, it could turn into a pretty interesting experience. Now that I think about it, I’ve been having a few pains—”

  “She’s from the mission,” Jake interjected with a significant lift of his brows.

  The loopy grin disappeared from Seth’s face, replaced by a look of horrified fascination. “Just what San Francisco needs, another pious, prune-faced old soul-saver to make all our lives hell on earth.”

  Jake laughed at Seth’s distaste. “Not so bad as all that. She’s one of Davinia Loomis’s flock and didn’t appear to be particularly righteous. She didn’t thump her Bible or preach, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “But she’s prune-faced. Am I right?”

  Jake opened his mouth to deny Hallie’s prune-faced status, but before he had the chance, Mammy Celine came charging into the library like a bull elephant on a rampage.

  “We’s got trouble, Mista’ Jake. Big trouble,” she blurted out, twisting her apron in agitation.

  “What is it this time, Celine? Did Hop steal one of your voodoo charms again?” Jake asked with feigned seriousness. Celine generally reserved the term “big trouble” to apply to Hop Yung’s frequent misdemeanors.

  “Ain’t nothin’ like that. It’s that Docta’ Barnes. He be talkin’ to that lady docta’ real mean-like. And after she done so good! She done had the Missus actin’ all tame. She be brushin’ the Missus’s hair, talkin’ as if everythin’ was normal and that Docta’ Barnes come chargin’ in and starts hollerin’. The Missus, she starts whimperin’ and beggin’ the lady not ta leave her. There be lots of arguin’ up there! The lady be callin’ Docta’ Barnes a Charlotte Butcher. He be spittin’ mad over that!” She chuckled, making it clear which of the opponents she favored.

  “Charlotte Butcher?” Jake asked, a frown creasing his forehead. Then he laughed. “I believe you mean a ‘charlatan’ and a ‘butcher.’” He could just imagine the puffed-up Dr. Barnes’s reaction to a female doctor calling him that.

  Celine put both her hands on her bony hips and stared at her employer severely. “That be what I jus’ say. That Miz Penelope, she done tell the lady docta’ to leave, that the real docta’ come. That didn’t sit none too good with the lady docta’. What you gonna be doin’ about this, Mista Jake?”

  Jake sighed. “I guess it’s time for me to go upstairs and perform a gallant rescue.”

  “Now there’s something I don’t want to miss,” Seth quipped. “Jake Parrish rescuing a Mission Lady.”

  “Who said anything about the Mission Lady? If my hunch is correct, it’s Doctor Barnes who’s going to need rescuing!”

  Chapter 4

  “You stay right there!” Hallie warned, brandishing Maggie O’Shea’s hastily abandoned broom.

  “This just goes to prove my point that females don’t have the temperament for the medical profession, doesn’t it?” barked Dr. Barnes, eyeballing his two strapping apprentices expectantly. Like automated French puppets, the young whelps bobbed their heads in practiced unions, eliciting a smug smile of approval from their mentor.

  “I can just imagine what that point would be, seeing what an open-minded, progressive individual you are,” Hallie snapped, still smarting from the man’s attacks on what he saw as the mental and emotional inferiority of the female sex. What irked her most was that he honestly believed that women were to be viewed like half-witted children and to be treated accordingly. It chilled her to the core to imagine the kind of medical treatment a woman would receive at his hand.

  Turning to pry her arm free from the numbing effects of Serena’s constant clench, Hallie tried to reassure her patient. “It’s all right, dear. There’s no need for you to be frightened.”

  Serena was clearly terrified by the appearance of the men, and all of Hallie’s efforts to calm her were meeting with dismal failure. Every time she managed to free herself from Serena’s convulsive grip, the woman simply reattached herself to whichever limb happened to be within her reach.

  “Make them go away!” Serena shrieked, peering around Hallie’s shoulder at the burly, red-faced man and his companions. Dr. Barnes glared at the pregnant woman impatiently, the menacing promise in his eyes making her shrink against Hallie with a frightened little whimper.

  “You promised you wouldn’t let anyone else touch me,” she wailed childishly. “You promised!”

  Hallie patted the woman’s pale cheek. “Hush, now, Serena. No one’s going to hurt you.” Why wouldn’t these idiot men just go away and let her do her job?

  Without warning, Serena let out a long, strangled scream. Dropping her hands from Hallie’s arm, she fell to her knees, clutching at her belly with a sobbing chant. “Hurts! Hurts! Hurts!”

  “Damn it, woman! Can’t you see that Mrs. Parrish is about to deliver a child?” Dr. Barnes snapped his fingers at one of his apprentices, who sprang into action and began stalking toward the women.

  “Smart of you to have noticed,” Hallie ground out. “What was that, the second pain in the last five minutes?” With that, she swung the broom, bringing it down on the head of the apprentice who had edged too close to Serena.

  He howled as the broom made whumping contact with his skull, cowering like a mangy cur beneath Hallie’s threatening scowl.

  “Mr. Parrish engaged me to deliver his wife’s baby,” Hallie said, “and I intend to do just that.”

  “I have been attending the Parrish family for many years, and let me tell you this: I don’t intend to stand by while some excitable female with pretensions of being a doctor murders one of my best patients! Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes. It’s clear that you’re a narrow-minded fool. As for pretending—just where did you receive your medical education, Dr. Barnes? I’d be interested to hear.” Tossing the man a challenging glare, Hallie stooped down to stroke Serena’s trembling back.

  “That wouldn’t be as interesting as hearing about the training that makes you consider yourself qualified to call yourself a doctor. That is, if you have any training at all.”

  Hallie met Dr. Barnes’s impervious gaze with a shrug and then proceeded to tick off an impressive list of European hospitals where she had received training in addition to her degree from the Woman’s Medical College of Pennsylvania.

  When she finished, the man stared at her in red-faced silence. With his double chins quivering beneath his luxuriant graying whiskers and his mouth working like that of a grounded carp, he was the very picture of outraged dignity.

  Regaining his composure with admirable speed, the doctor cleared his throat several times before replying with galling condescension, “That all sounds very well and good, but everyone knows that females are incapable of retaining knowledge for any reasonable length of time. I’m afraid, my dear, that your poor parents threw their money away. Better they had spent it on a dowry instead.” With a nasty smile, he added, “Even the most undesirable of females is rendered desirable in the presence of a large marriage portion.”

  “Yes. But only to undesirable males,” Hallie replied flippantly as she tried to pull Serena toward the bed. As if she didn’t have enough problems already, the woman had decided that she was having none of Hallie’s coaxing and refused to budge from her crouched position on the floor.

  With a sigh, Hallie decided to try to reason with her. “Now Serena—”

  “Hurts!” wailed Serena as another contraction rocked her body.

  Hallie made some quick calculations. Gauging from her last examination of her patient, the birth was critically near. Damn it! She had to find some way to get rid of these men. Only then would she have any hope of delivering the child successfully.

  “Dear God!” exclaimed Dr. Barnes when yet another cry was wrenched from Serena. “I’ve wasted enough valuable time trying to reason with this irrationa
l female. Claude! Benedict! I want Mrs. Parrish bound to that bed! Now!” he ordered, and the three of them advanced on the women.

  Hallie leaped into action. Wildly she swung the broom, first catching Claude in the back of the head with a blow that brought him to his knees, and then backhanding Dr. Barnes in his considerable belly, making him double up with pain. Defensively, she spun around to face the apprentice, Benedict, but it was too late.

  With an agility Hallie hadn’t counted on, he easily caught hold of the flailing broom and wrenched it out of her hands. Tossing the weapon aside, he pulled her into an immobilizing grip that made her fight for breath.

  “Stop that! Can’t you see she’s terrified?” demanded Hallie as Dr. Barnes and Claude dragged the screaming Serena to the bed. They wrestled with her roughly, trying to still her arms long enough to bind them.

  “You promised!” cried Serena, frantically struggling against the restraining strength of the two men. “You promised you wouldn’t let them touch me! You promised! You promised!” The desperation of the words tore at Hallie’s heart, spurring her to renew her battle with a vengeance. Twisting and pulling until she gained enough distance from her captor to move her legs, she called forth all of her waning strength to give him one sharp kick. As the pointed toe of her boot made bruising contact with his shin, Benedict let out a yowl loud enough to drown out Serena’s hysterical shrieks. Instantly, his arms dropped from Hallie’s waist and he slithered to the floor, clutching at his leg.

  Satisfied that her captor was preoccupied with nursing his abused limb, Hallie lunged into the fray at the bed.

  “Looks like a scene from bedlam, doesn’t it?” Seth observed, viewing the altercation from the doorway. “Oh, good left on that lady!” he added with admiration as Hallie landed a punch squarely against Claude’s chin and effectively eliminated him from the tussle.

  As Jake joined his friend on the threshold and stared aghast at the chaos in the room, Seth quipped, “We should probably stop the little hellion before she annihilates San Francisco’s finest medical practitioners.”