by Rita Hestand
They climbed into the wagon and the lady was awake. She had lesions popping up all over, and she looked a bit miserable, but she was smiling. She grabbed Millie's hand and made a scratch with it.
"No, you must'n do that." Millie tried to tell her.
Suddenly Eryk showed up once more. "I'm so glad to see you, tell her not to scratch, she has the chicken pox."
The man nodded and translated what she said.
The woman spoke back in Polish.
"What did she say?" Millie asked.
"She wants to know if she will die from this chicken-pox?"
"Tell her no, that she will itch for several days especially when it scabs over but she must'n scratch no matter what. It would make scars."
He nodded and told her. She looked at all of them and nodded with a smile.
"It must be scary when you are with people that don't speak your language and something is wrong. I feel so sorry for her. But I will keep her as comfortable as I can."
"My name is Eryk, what is yours?" He asked Millie.
"I'm Millie Powell and this is Wilma Granger. We're glad to meet you."
"We go to Oregon and plant our grapes. We will sell many wines and make lots of money."
"That's wonderful. I wish you the best." Millie said as she looked at him. He was a short man with black slicked hair and dark eyes. Not handsome but a pleasant looking man nonetheless.
Again the man spoke to the woman and again she smiled and took Millie's hand and kissed it.
Millie checked her head for fever and sat down once more.
"Tell her my name is Millie, and her name is Wilma."
Eryk translated once more.
"How does it happen you can speak her language?" Millie asked out of curiosity.
"I'm her brother, I am three wagons up with my wife and family." He smiled at them.
"Wonderful, I'm glad you are kin to her. I'm going to prepare her a bath, and I need you to build a canvas around it so she can have some privacy. I'm going to put oatmeal in the bathwater, as it helps to stop the itch." Millie told him.
"Oatmeal?"
"Yes, oatmeal." Millie chuckled.
Eryk told the woman and she took Millie hand. "She is very glad you are here."
"Do you know where she was in contact with the chicken-pox."
"Yes, my children had it about three weeks ago."
"All of them?"
"Yes, all six of them. Well, that's a relief to know. So they can actually visit her, but no others can come with them." Millie informed him.
"Good." He smiled.
After Eryk rigged the bath up, he carried her to the bath and Wilma and Millie took over from there.
"You know I heard my grandmother say something about oatmeal and chicken-pox when I was little, but I thought she was kidding. It really works?" Wilma looked a bit shocked.
"Yes, it does. We must keep pouring water over her so it does a good job. The oatmeal has a calming effect and keeps one from scratching so much. It's been used for a long time by certain countries for itching and nothing itches like chicken-pox. I tried it once on a patient and it made all the difference in her recovery, since she tended to scratch each lesion."
"I bet she had scars."
"Yes, quite a few actually."
Wilma and Millie took turns pouring the oatmeal water over the woman and letting her wash herself.
The woman was not shy or bashful, but grateful for the relief it gave.
When they helped her dress and got her back to bed she instructed Eryk to tell her that if she needed another bath this afternoon, they would give her one.
When Eryk started to leave he took Millie's hands in his. "You are a fine doctor. She thinks the world of you."
"Really?" Millie chuckled. "I'm glad."
Wilma fetched them some lunch and the woman too.
She sat up in bed and ate and kept smiling at them both.
"You know I don't even know her name yet. Shame on me for not asking."
"You've had a lot on your mind, you're forgiven." Wilma laughed.
"I'm very glad she wasn't here alone, with no one to translate for her. That would have been so scary for her." Millie shook her head.
"I wonder what she's doing here in the west?"
"No telling, another question we can ask Eryk when he comes back to check on her." Millie said. She yawned.
"How much sleep did you get last night?"
"A little toward morning."
"Joe said you looked exhausted."
"Maybe a little. Listen, I'm going to drive her wagon for her, so I can check on her off and on. But I need to know how soon we are pulling out."
"Want me to go check on it?"
"That won't be necessary, we're pulling out in the morning, ladies." Joe announced from the back flap. "How's our patient?"
"She doing well right now, just had an oatmeal bath and the itching is calming down some." Millie reported.
"Great. A.J. doesn't want to pull out this late, we'd just have to break camp again and its too much trouble."
"Eryk translated for us today, and she is much more calm. Only I forgot to ask what her name is?"
"Her name is Izabella Dunin. Just heard A.J. ask the same question. Anything else?" Joe as his eyes crinkled at the corners.
"No, but you did tell A.J. that no children allowed within say one hundred feet of this wagon I hope." Millie smiled softly at him.
"I'll tell him again. Say, got any of that stew left, Wilma?"
"Sure do, help yourself over to the wagon." Wilma chuckled.
"Thanks I'll do that."
Joe left and they thought they'd seen the last of him, but surprisingly he came back to camp out with them in the wagon as he ate.
They looked at him strangely and he smiled, "Sorry, I never like to eat alone…if I can help it."
They both laughed.
There it was again the laughter, just what Millie needed to give her a lift. And Joe had brought it to her once more.
She couldn't tell him know how much it meant to her, or how much his being here did either, but she cast him a slight smile every now and then.
Before dark they decided to bath her again in the oatmeal, so Joe was elected to help her down and toward the other side of the wagon. The cover was still up.
"I guess I'll be shoving off, if you ladies don't need me anymore." Joe announced.
"Thanks!" Millie smiled at him.
He winked and tipped his hat and left.
Millie glanced over her shoulder at him, everything about Joe was remarkable to Millie. She licked her lips and went back to work.
Chapter Thirteen
But late that night as she lay on the back of the wagon, she felt a loneliness she'd never known. Here she was hundreds of miles from her home, alone, headed to a man she couldn't stand, but planned to marry, and longing for a man that was only yards away from her. What kind of sick humor was that?
She'd been homesick at school many times, mainly because the men at the college treated her like some outcast. All because she wanted to learn about medicine. She didn't understand what that had to do with being a woman.
God if you want to take over this problem, I'm ready to give it to you. I want a life too!
Had Wilma been right, did she need to turn it over to the Lord and let him take care of it? Had she been a bit arrogant and presumptuous to think she could solve all her problems?
She knew she should forget about Joe. But it was hard when he was the very first love interest in her life, and the only one she felt like clinging to at the moment. He was strong as a rock, steady, dependable, good-looking, and such a kisser. Wilma said kissing was important when you were young. She was right. She wished she could get that last part out of her mind. Dear God, when she thought about the kisses they shared, her whole body came alive. Why had it happened now, though? She'd already committed herself to a life of doom, and then Joe came along. She couldn't just change everything could she?
Determined to see her mission through she tried to concentrate on the positive aspects of her soon to be life. But there were no positives where she was headed. The positive was here and she knew it.
She wouldn't be any kind of doctor once she married Hudson. That part of her life would be over. She'd marry a man that lusted after her youth, and planned to destroy her family. And what would her fate be, married to Matt Hudson? Could she keep up a happy face for the rest of her life? Could she lie to herself for the rest of her life. She was young, and a lifetime was a long time. She didn't want to become bitter and resentful of other's happiness.
It all seemed so useless.
Could she call it off?
What might happen if she did?
She had no answers, only problems. She tried to rest, but it was a restless sleep. She got up and walked around the wagon, wishing she could just sleep and not think. She knew one of the hardest things for her to do at night was turn off her brain. Sometimes thinking wasn't good for you.
She tried to be quiet because the rest of the wagons were silent now, no lights burned from within.
She listened to the sounds of the night. The crickets making their music, the occasional croak of a frog, the grasshoppers buzzing about. She even heard a hoot howl from a distance. No one moved about the train this time of night. The air was still…and she willed herself to be the same.
"You're up a little late, aren't you?" Came a drawl she quickly recognized. He was just standing there, in the pale moonlight, staring at her. He was dressed in his cowboy gear, sweat rimmed his hat, his pants were covered with chaps and dust. His boots were scuffed, but he looked so desirable she had to hold her own arms to keep herself from throwing them around him.
It was as if her wishful thinking had conjured him from nowhere.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to be strong. She had to control her emotions, her true feelings. How many times could she refuse him? How many times could she walk away from him when it pulled at her heart each time. Every time he walked away from her, he took a part of her with him.
"I didn't think anyone else would be up." She turned around to face him after moving away from him a bit. It was a mistake to look straight at him, she wanted to run into his arms and let him console her and make things better for her. What a coward she'd become.
But that was the coward's way out, that was the way the spoiled little rich girl would act.
"I bed down a little later than most, have to make sure all is well in camp." He told her nonchalantly but his voice sounded husky now, as though it pained him to talk.
"I never realized. You have a lot of duties don't you? I mean you don't just chase Indians and find water holes. You really are A.J.'s right arm, aren't you?" She tried to sound flippant.
"I try to help him any way I can. A. J. is one of the nicest people I know. The best wagon master I know. I should be scouting the area for water, but it seems I'm tied to all the problems here right now. A.J. is a real bear. He's beating himself up for going with this other train. It seems there's been nothing but trouble from their end of it." He shrugged. "I don't consider it a duty but more a routine with me, making sure everything is okay keeps my job simpler in most respects. I like my job Millie. It suits me. So…what are you doing up so late."
"I couldn't sleep!" She rolled her shoulders. "Sometimes…you get a little too tired and…can't sleep."
"Yeah I've had a few like that myself."
"I tried to sleep, but I kept waking up. Thought maybe a walk would do me good."
"You're a good doctor." He said tightly, changing the subject.
She shook her head slowly. "I'm not a doctor…" she admitted, turning away so he wouldn't see the tear that lodged in her eyes. Because hearing herself say she wasn't a doctor hurt deeper than she cared to admit. She'd given it up herself. She had no one else to blame. When she said that she suddenly realized that the only place anyone considered her a doctor was right here on the train.
"You sure could have fooled me. I've been around you three times when you were doctoring and every time it turned out well. You know, wagon trains like this could use doctors like you to help them make it through."
Millie heard his words and for a split second hope filtered through, but it would never happen if she carried her plan through. If? When had it suddenly become an if?
"Well, I'm sure A.J. wouldn't hire a doctor."
"Maybe, maybe not. We've lost quite a few due to illness and accidents." He admitted. "If there'd been a really good doctor on board, they might have made it. You go through enough funerals on a train this size, sometimes it gets to you. A.J. might look strong to most people, might sound it too, but every time he loses a passenger, it eats at him as though he has failed them."
"Really, tell me about them…"
"What the accidents?"
She nodded.
"Well," He came around her now and leaned against a tree, folding his arms over his chest and pulling his hat off to relax. This thick black hair rode high on his forehead. For just a second Millie imagined running her fingers through that mass of hair. He crossed his boots and sighed.
"When kids or even adults get down too fast before the brake is applied to the wagons the wheels keep turning, they can get caught up under the wagon. Even if they are just walking, a woman's dress can pull her under if she's not mindful of it. If people carry guns in their wagons we ask that they not load them unless we are being attacked or there is a wild animal about. Too many times they are in their wagons and it rolls a bit, knocks them down and they hurt themselves. Horses, oxen, mules, step on people's feet a lot, causes real problems when a person has to walk instead of ride. Trying to save an animal in a heavy current puts a person in jeopardy too. Indian attacks can kill or maim someone for life. Had a man scalped one time and he wasn't dead, that was a real mess. Never forget it as long as I live. He screamed forever it seemed. He never looked the same. Its strange what something like that can do to a man. Take away his dignity. And he'd been a handsome man. Snake bites happen, especially in the summer. And then there are the diseases. Cholera, pox, and a half a dozen more. We've had people drown trying to cross rivers and creeks, we've had lightning strike wagons with people in them. We had one hail storm where it hit this woman in the head and she died instantly. Not a thing we could do. Had one episode of rabies, raccoon bit a dog, dog bit a kid. So many things happen on these trains. Plenty of reason to have a real doctor on board. So much heartache that could have been prevented. That baby you delivered, might not have made it into the world if you hadn't been here. If you hadn't taken the time to turn it and deliver it right."
She sighed sadly, "But I'm not a real doctor."
"Aren't you? Millie, you are as close to any real doctor I know. You know all you need to know to help these people." He said coming closer. "You could do an awful lot of good here."
She couldn't talk any longer. It was impossible. If she opened her mouth, she'd remind him of where she was going and what she was going to do. She just couldn't say another word. Matt Hudson had come between them already, she didn't need to remind him.
He stood right in front of her now, his glance going over her thoroughly. It was the way he looked at her, not lurching like Matt Hudson had many times, but appreciating her as a woman. Her body flushed from his glance. He crooked his finger and pulled her chin up, so the moonlight shone on her face. She held her breath. "You are a good doctor, Millie. And all that training you received, all that knowledge you have in your head, is going for nothing now. Think about that. Once you leave this train, you may never help another person again. Is that what you want. Is that what you wanted all those years ago when you decided you wanted to be a doctor? Is that what your parents paid for? The way I see it, marrying Matt Hudson isn't half as important as finishing what you started, get that degree, and become a doctor."
"You're bullying me, badgering me…"
Now he was so close she could smell the clean lye
soap he used to bath with, she could smell the leather from his saddle, she could feel the warmth from his breath, and almost touch the hard muscles of his arms.
"Your damned right. I am. And for good reason Millie. You're giving up on your own life. Giving away all the gifts you have for the world, for what! A piece of dirt, Millie. That's all that beautiful land is, dirt. Your family would find a way to go on, and you know that deep down. It can't give you love, security or happiness. And have you once given thought to how your father will feel when he learns what you've done? You’re an intelligent woman but sometimes your common sense fails you. Look, it can't make you a home, or give you children. It can't support you or wrap it's arms around you. So go on Millie, marry your Matt Hudson, have a happy life. I'm done trying to talk any sense into you! Have a wonderful life with this Hudson fella."
And he walked away.
She didn't want him to leave. She needed him. Something so strong hit her.
Millie stood stunned. Was he right? Had she given up the most important thing?
Was she throwing it all away for a lost cause? Was she deliberately dooming herself?
And did any of it matter now that she had lost Joe Modoc for good?
Her heart cried for him. She knew what was wrong now. She was in love with Joe Modoc.
Chapter Fourteen
After the chicken pox scare was over, Millie went back to Wilma's wagon. She climbed back up in the seat and took over the mules. Wilma was silently glad sending her a smile.
"Glad your back, ole Pete's been giving me a time." Wilma complained. "Seems like I fight him all the time. So, who's driving her wagon for her?"
"Eryk."
"Good. Glad he's seein' after her."
"It's good to be back." Millie smiled as she took the reins. "What's our next stop?"
"Chimney rock, but it's a fur piece up the way I'm told."
"Joe says the meat is scarce because so many trains coming through. He's been hunting elk, says a couple of bucks would surely take care of the trains needs. But I reckon we can make it on bacon, beans and fried cakes." Wilma informed her.
