“This is not a luxury.” The Trotters weren’t alone in their thinking. Shelter, food, and clothing were all many families could afford. “We’ll work something out,” he assured her. “The most important thing right now is that Jimmy gets all the care we can give him.”
She stared at him for a moment before turning to leave. She walked to the door as if in a trance. “Tomorrow.”
Moments later Caleb stood at the window facing the street and watched Mrs. Trotter and her son drive away in a horse and wagon. It wasn’t even noon and already he felt inadequate. He’d been warned at medical school not to get emotionally involved with his patients, but how could he not?
With a heavy sigh he lifted his gaze to the expanse of blue sky. Heavenly Father, Jimmy needs help—bad. We both do.
Chapter 9
Molly stood, whip in hand, and tried to focus. She had been at the ranch for only a week and already she was exhausted.
“Watch it!” Brodie yelled. “Don’t let him jump.”
Despite her best efforts the horse headed for the fence, but Brodie managed to turn him at the very last minute. Brodie threw down his whip.
“What’s the matter with you, girl? I told you not to let him jump.”
Molly bit back tears. She was like a butterf ly afraid to light. She was forever racing between the horse corrals, barn, range, and house. Her days had no form or structure and time was but a blur.
It was muck out the stables and check on Donny; exercise the horses and check on Donny; track down a stray steer and check on Donny. Every bone in her body ached, and today she was late taking Donny his lunch, yet again.
Later that afternoon while the other ranch hands took a muchneeded respite from the hot sun, she searched for Rosita. She found the Mexican housekeeper at last in the washhouse in back. The girl moved about like a shadow, hardly making a sound. Today she stood ironing sheets, a dreamy expression on her face and her mind clearly miles away.
Noticing Molly, she jumped and looked momentarily confused, like one awakened from a deep sleep. “You want something, señorita?”
“Yes, I need a favor,” Molly said. “Do you mind?”
Rosita shook her head, though the brown eyes regarding Molly from beneath a starched white cap clearly said otherwise.
“I wonder if you would be so kind as to check on my brother during the day while I’m working?” Molly hadn’t wanted to ask anyone for help but she didn’t know what else to do. How ridiculous to think she could manage both taking care of Donny and ranch chores by herself.
Rosita set one iron down and reached for another on the iron stove. “I work for Señorita Walker. Big house.”
“Yes, I realize you have much to do, but what I ask won’t take long. I’ll pay you for your services.”
Rosita shook her head. “No time.”
“But I’m only asking for a few minutes a day, at most,” Molly persisted. “I just want you to check on him on occasion and, if need be, to move his chair to another spot so he doesn’t have to sit in the same place all day.”
“No time,” Rosita repeated. She sprinkled the bedsheet with lavender water and pushed the heavy iron back and forth. Wispy fingers of steam curled ghost-like from the sheet she pressed.
Molly left the washhouse close to tears, praying all the while that Brodie hadn’t noticed her absence.
Caleb drove out to the ranch to check on Miss Walker’s horse. The place appeared deserted save for Miss Hatfield’s brother sitting on the porch in his wheelchair. He was either asleep or reading, hard to tell which.
“Come on, boy.” He lifted Magic out of the vehicle and set him on the ground.
The steps leading up to the shaded verandah squeaked beneath Caleb’s weight and Donny looked up with a start, his book falling off his lap. His eyes were the same green as his sister’s but without the sparkle.
“Sorry to startle you. It’s Donald, right?”
“Donny.”
Caleb bent to retrieve the book and set it on the table by the youth’s side. It was a book on celestial science.
“Do you remember me?”
“You’re the doctor,” Donny said, his voice flat, his face expressionless. The boy obviously suffered melancholy, which almost always translated to careless dress or poor hygiene. Neither was true for Donny. His black trousers and boiled shirt were spotlessly clean, his hair neatly trimmed—all signs of a conscientious caretaker.
“I hope you don’t start another stampede.”
Caleb cracked a smile. “You and me both.” He’d been meaning to check into the backfiring but hadn’t found the time. He’d have to talk to the smithy about fixing the flywheel and bullet holes.
Donny shifted in his chair and the wheels emitted a squeak. Magic barked playfully and pawed the rims, trying to get them to squeak again. Donny trailed his hand along Magic’s back where the long hair parted and fell on either side of his body. Normally the dog’s face was hidden, but Aunt Bessie had brushed his hair out of his eyes and tied it with a blue ribbon.
“What’s your dog’s name?”
“Magic.”
“What’s magical about him?” Donny asked.
“Nothing that I know of. He was named after the street he was born on.”
“Good thing he wasn’t born on Cemetery Street,” Donny said.
Caleb laughed. The boy had a sense of humor.
Donny tossed a nod at the carriage parked in front. “Did you build it yourself?”
Caleb nodded. “With help from a friend’s father. He owns a bicycle shop in Boston where I went to school.”
A spark of interest flared in the youth’s face. “Was it hard to build?”
“Took us five years to get it right. We built it over the shop on the second floor. It was the only space available.” He had worked part time in the shop to cover medical school expenses and the cost of motor parts. “We had a hard time getting Bertha to the ground floor to test it.”
“How did you manage?” Donny asked.
“We finally stood her on her tail end and lowered her down in the elevator.”
Donny flashed a grin. “That must have been something to see.”
“Yes, it was.” Caleb’s gaze shifted to the corrals and barn in the distance. “Where is everyone?” By everyone he meant Donny’s sister, but he didn’t want to ask about her outright.
“Dunno. They took off a couple of hours ago. Haven’t seen them since. Wish they’d get back. I’m tired of sitting out here.”
Caleb glanced at the front door, which couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen feet away. “I’ll help you inside if you like.”
Donny’s expression grew solemn again. “My sister doesn’t want me to move without her. Last time I did, I fell out of my chair and couldn’t get back in.”
Caleb frowned. While at the Boston School of Medicine he’d worked with paraplegic Civil War veterans. Some gave in to their affliction, replacing missing limbs with bitterness and anger. Others rose above their injuries and went on to raise families and own successful businesses. Donny wasn’t missing a limb, but he was definitely missing out on life.
Something caught Donny’s attention. “Look at that horse. He’s at it again.”
Caleb followed Donny’s pointed finger. In the far corral a black colt rocked back and forth like a child’s rocking horse.
“I named him Orbit,” Donny explained. “That’s ’cause he has this funny habit of putting his head to the ground and circling his body around like a planet orbiting the sun.”
“Sounds like a good name for him.” Caleb leaned against a post, arms crossed. Magic gave up on the chair and flopped down by his side. “What’s wrong with your legs?”
“They don’t work,” Donny mumbled, his gaze dropping to his lap.
“I can see that.” Caleb waited, but when the youth offered no further explanation, he asked, “How did it happen? Were you born that way?”
Donny looked up. “I fell out of my carriage as an inf
ant.”
Caleb sucked in his breath. So the boy had been crippled nearly all his life. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
Donny’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you want to do that?”
Caleb shrugged. “A funny thing about us doctors. We tend to have a fascination with the human body. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
Donny studied him for a moment before giving a reluctant nod. Caleb lowered himself to one knee in front of the wheelchair. “I’m going to take off your shoes and roll up your trousers.” When Donny showed no objection, Caleb reached for a foot.
He pulled off one shoe and set it aside before working on the other. “Did you know that if your blood vessels were laid end to end, they could travel around the earth twice?”
Donny stared at him as if trying to figure him out, then said, “Did you know that a quarter moon and half moon are the same?”
Encouraged that the boy chose to participate in his little game, Caleb glanced up at him. “How can that be?” Caleb wiggled Donny’s shoe off.
“The quarter tells how much of the lunar month has passed and the half is how much moon is visible,” Donny explained.
Caleb couldn’t help but be intrigued. Obviously there was nothing wrong with the kid’s mind. “Interesting.”
“You can see more stars here than in Dobson Creek,” Donny said, warming to his subject. “There are no trees getting in the way. You can see even more stars with a telescope.”
“So I’ve heard.” Caleb lifted a limp leg and flexed the youth’s foot. “I heard about the fire. Is that what brought you and your sister to Cactus Patch?”
“Yeah.”
Sensing Donny’s reluctance to talk about the fire, Caleb quickly changed the subject. “Did you know the foot has more bones than any other part of the body?”
The dark look left Donny’s face and he fired back a question of his own. “Did you know that if the sun blew up five minutes ago we wouldn’t know it for another three minutes?”
Caleb responded just as rapidly, “Did you know that babies are born without kneecaps?”
After several moments of batting interesting and sometimes even amazing facts back and forth, Caleb squeezed Donny’s ankle. “Any feeling here?”
“Sometimes it tingles,” Donny said.
“What about here?”
“No.”
Caleb checked the length of the leg all the way to the hip. “Any pain?”
“Sometimes. Mostly at night.”
He replaced Donny’s shoes and tied the laces. The boy appeared to have a partial lumbar spinal injury with some leg contraction.
“I can help you.”
Doubt clouded Donny’s face. “Help me how? Can you make me walk again?”
“No, I can’t do that.” Caleb sat back on his heels. “I wish I could, but I can’t. No one can do that.”
Donny gripped the arms of his chair and leaned forward. “Then how are you gonna help me?”
“I can help you strengthen your muscles. That will make you more independent. I can teach you how to get in and out of bed by yourself. Use the facilities without help. Get in and out of your chair.”
Donny’s mouth twisted in disgust. “What good will that do? I’ll still be crippled.”
Caleb stood. “Only if you want to be.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Donny’s eyes grew moist, but he was either too stubborn or too proud to give in to tears and glowered instead.
“You can choose to be a cripple or you can choose to be someone who just happens to have legs that don’t work.” Caleb hated to be tough on the boy, but mollycoddling would do him no favors.
Donny’s face turned red and his nose flared. “What do you know? Have you ever been crippled?”
“No.” Caleb studied him. Obviously he’d hit a nerve. “I’ve worked with patients with similar problems.”
“That don’t mean nothing! You’ve never had to sit in a chair all day. Or had to wait for your sister to dress you. Or been laughed at. You have no idea how awful that is.”
Caleb rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to sit in a chair all day. But people laugh at me all the time for driving a motor buggy.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
Humor failing, Caleb turned serious. “You’re right. I have no idea what you’re going through, but I do know this—you don’t have much of a life. With God’s help, I can change that.”
Donny’s lip curled and he suddenly looked older than his years. “Without my legs I can’t do nothin’.”
“What do you want to do?”
Donny waved away the question. “There’s nothing I can do. Don’t you understand?” His fingers curled around the arms of his chair and he seemed to deflate, his body shrinking. “I never got to run like the other kids or attend school. My sister taught me how to read and how to add and subtract.”
So Molly wasn’t only his caretaker, but also his teacher. “Let’s suppose you can do anything you wanted. What would it be?”
Donny stared into space at something only he could see. “I keep having this dream.”
Caleb waited a moment before prompting him. “Tell me about your dream.”
Donny wrinkled his nose. “It’s dumb.”
“Dreams aren’t dumb. Sometimes that’s how God talks to us.”
Donny studied him, his face filled with doubt. “How do you know that?”
“Says so in the Bible. That’s how God talked to Abraham, Daniel, and Solomon, to name a few. He even talked to Mary and Joseph in dreams.”
“Yeah, but those were important people,” Donny said.
“In God’s eyes, we’re all important.” Caleb tilted his head. “So tell me about your dream.”
“In my dream I’m running.” Donny’s head bobbed slightly as if he was reliving it. After a while he added, “The wind is in my face and my hair is blowing.” He reached for his book and flung it the length of the verandah. Magic lifted his head and stared at the book before resuming his nap.
“Why would God make me dream about something I can’t do?” Donny asked. “Will you tell me that?”
“God sometimes uses dreams to warn of danger. That’s how Joseph knew to flee to Egypt. God also uses dreams to reveal His plans for us. I dreamed about being a doctor long before I became one.” After a slight pause he added, “Sometimes God uses dreams to encourage us. That’s what He did with Gideon.”
Donny folded his arms and stuck out his lips. “Maybe God’s warning me against listening to you.”
“Or maybe He’s showing you what would happen if you do.”
“That’s dumb.” Donny’s voice broke. “I can’t run. I can’t even walk.”
Caleb grabbed the arms of the wheelchair, leaning forward until he was practically nose to nose with the boy. “You can do anything you want to do. You want to feel the wind in your face?” With a quick movement, he spun the wheelchair around. It was an older model with three metal wheels. The newer chairs had rubber tires and push rims for mobility, but this one lacked any such conveniences.
Grabbing hold of the hand bar, he tilted the chair onto the single wheel in back and steered it down the verandah steps, thumpity-thump. Magic jumped up, ready to play, and bounded down the steps after them.
“What are you doing?” Donny yelled, gripping the sides of his chair. “Stop!”
Ignoring him, Caleb pushed the chair around the courtyard, picking up speed as they circled the fountain.
Donny’s initial cries of alarm soon gave way to laughter. It was a tight little laugh at first that gradually turned into delighted guffaws.
“More, more,” he shouted.
Grinning, Caleb spun him around, changed directions, and bolted forward, pushing the chair faster. “Brrrooooooooom,” he yelled, imitating the sound of a motor. Magic ran after them, barking.
“Whee,” Donny cried, hair flying around his head. “It’s just like my dream!”
&
nbsp; Caleb swirled the chair around in a complete circle, and this time Donny howled with glee.
Molly raced across the desert as fast as her horse could carry her. I’m coming, Donny. Hold on. It was a beautiful warm day, the air crystal clear. Prairie dogs popped back into their holes as she raced by. Roadrunners scurried to get out of her way. A turkey vulture circled overhead. Hurry, hurry. Had to keep going. Couldn’t stop.
Taking care of Donny and working on the ranch was harder than she ever imagined. She was never at the right place at the right time. Whenever Ruckus or O.T. or Brodie needed her help with the horses or cattle, she was with Donny. Likewise, whenever Donny wanted her, she was either riding the range or knee-deep in muck.
Poor Donny sometimes had to wait for hours before she could take him to the privy or move him to another location. He never complained, at least not verbally, but she sensed his anger and resentment increasing daily and this only added to her guilt.
She must have been out of her mind to think she could work on the ranch and still care for her brother. She wasn’t even certain that the desert air was any more beneficial to Donny’s lungs than Colorado’s thin, dry air had been. Donny’s wheezing spells seemed to be getting worse, not better, and it had done nothing to help her own nighttime cough left over from the fires.
Nearing the ranch house, she spotted the doctor’s automobile parked in front and alarm shot through her. Whenever the doctor came to check on Miss Walker’s horse, he parked by the barn. Was something the matter with Donny?
Galloping up to the open gate, her jaw dropped. The doctor ran around the courtyard at full speed, pushing her brother’s wheelchair, the little fluffy dog yipping at his heels. Yelling at the top of his lungs, Dr. Fairbanks made funny rumbling sounds. Had he gone mad?
She opened her mouth to protest but nothing came out. Instead, her thoughts whirled back in time to the day she stood watching in horror as her baby brother’s carriage rolled down a hill. She was only eight at the time, but she remembered that day as if it were only yesterday.
Shaking the memory away, she yelled for the doctor to stop, but all the whooping, barking, laughing, and rattling of the wheelchair drowned out her voice.
Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) Page 7
