by Murray, Anna
“A fair amount before you came.” Jed looked into her gray eyes.
She twisted her hands together in front of her. The table was tiny, and her leg touched his thigh beneath. She tried to adjust and wiggle her chair out, but Jed’s long legs left little room to maneuver. Red crept into her cheeks.
“It’s ok.” His voice was hoarse. “Body parts don’t bother me. I’m a doctor, remember?”
She smiled prettily. “Right.”
Nelda delivered plates overflowing with food. It smelled wonderful, and Hannah said as much.
“You never told me about your journey to Wounded Colt,” he threw out to make conversation.
“You didn’t ask.”
“I suppose I was preoccupied with other matters.” A memory of her wrapped in the thin nightgown in his bed flashed through his mind. He tried to chase it out, but it was proving difficult.
“Ah, yes. I remember.” She was smiling, too, and he impulsively reached across the table and put a hand over hers.
She didn’t pull away. “I came up the Missouri, and then over land. It was quite tedious.”
“I made the same trip when I came out.”
As they reminisced other couples and families wandered in and out of the room, but Jed didn’t notice. He saw only Hannah.
Nelda hovered about as if she were serving foreign dignitaries, offering extra helpings and more pie. When they finally rose to quit the room, Jed spied newlyweds Geneva and Ned Kingman at a table near the door.
“Kingman!”
“Doc!” Ned rose and pumped Jed’s hand.
Jed nodded at Geneva. “Good to see you with your woman.”
“Likewise,” Ned retorted.
“Hannah is my practice partner.” Jed didn’t realize how his statement sounded until it was out of his mouth.
Ned took full advantage. “You’re getting lots of practice?”
Geneva laughed heartily, and Hannah blushed. “We work together,” she blubbered.
“Yes, yes,” Ned slapped the table, “Geneva is my partner, too.” He cleared his throat. “Doc Rutherford dug schrapnel out of my leg. The war was hard on me, but I’m much better now, thanks to Doc’s healing and the love of a fine wife.”
“I can see that,” Hannah said. “Congratulations, again, Mr. and Mrs. Kingman.”
“Yes, congratulations,” Jed echoed. Then, as Jed turned to move away, he took Hannah’s hand and placed it on the crook of his arm.
Chapter 15
Hannah was walking toward the general store when Roy Easton accosted her. Nelda Rose’s baby was coming! Hannah hurried to the hotel to find Nelda in her bed, panting and sweating. The pains weren’t frequent yet, but John Hawkins was taking no chances. He’d put his wife to bed at her first minor complaint, and Hannah encountered him wiping Nelda’s brow with a wet cloth.
“I-it’s started.” His dark eyes flickered up to Hannah as she entered the room.
Nelda stretched a hand across the bed and took Hannah’s. “The worst is yet to come,” she grimaced and waited through a contraction, “but I’m ready.”
“Ah, that’s our brave Nelda. This baby should come faster than the others,” Hannah spoke with bright confidence, as she’d been trained to do.
Nelda bit her lower lip and nodded, but John Hawkins wasn’t as sure. He led Hannah outside the room to talk.
“You’ve brought other babes?” he inquired. “Maybe Rutherford should tail ride.”
“I have experience.” In truth she’d assisted at several births and had handled only three alone, though all had been successful.
“I think we both might prefer Rutherford,” he blurted.
“But Nelda asked for me. A woman’s more comfortable with another woman –“
He slapped a hand to his forehead. “God is punishing me!”
Hawkins’ outburst set Hannah back on her heels. “Mr. Hawkins, I know about your losses, but this time will be different –“
“He sent you to make me suffer for my sins! I’m going to Hell.” The man was delusional.
“Mr. Hawkins, take a shot of whiskey and relax. I don’t believe God sent me here to punish you and cause suffering. I’m practiced in healing the sick, and helping in precisely such situations as birth –“
“No, no, an evil Satan rules my life. You don’t know. I’ve done terrible things.” Hawkins was sobbing.
Hannah had never seen a grown man lose his senses during a wife’s labor. “Mr. Hawkins, there’s nothing you’ve done can’t be forgiven. Good Lord, have you killed a man? Mr. Hawkins, every life has it’s share of broken dreams, of falls, of hard knocks. Believe me, I know, but we’re going to bring a healthy baby today. You’re due for a break.”
John Hawkins grabbed her arm and pushed her to his private parlor, where Hannah sat on a wooden chair, and he slumped onto the sofa. He pulled a handkerchief from a vest pocket and blew his nose.
When he finally lifted his gaze and spoke his words were tortured and painful. “As a boy I learned the hard way. Trust me. You’ll want to fetch Rutherford. Look, Doctor Sutton, I know who you are, and why you’re here. You’re Amy Sutton. When I was a young man I worked at the Dullen ranch, next to your place. Do you remember it?”
It was Hannah’s turn to be fearful and exposed, like a windmill facing a gale for the first time. “How?” She choked. “I mean, when, when did you know?”
His eyes were red and misted, and he looked away from her. “The first we met. I couldn’t forget your face after it happened. You’re Amy, all growed up.”
“Oh, please, oh please. You haven’t told anyone?”
“No, and I won’t, because there’s something about me nobody knows, not even my wife. I –I was one of the men who set the fire.”
Hannah gasped and the blood ran from her face. She felt weak and suddenly disconnected from the conversation.
His voice broke and he sobbed. “I-I was just a kid,” he pleaded. “Dullen made me do it with another cowpuncher. He wanted to drive your family off the land so he could take it. If we’d known there were kids in the barn –“
Hannah put up a hand to stop him. She’d expected the stress of a birthing, and what she got was reliving a personal nightmare. Her arm was wrapped around her midsection. She rocked to and fro on the hard chair. “Oh, heavens. Oh, my.”
“I’m so sorry,” Hawkins continued. “In truth, I’m sorry every damn day. You now you see. God punishes me by taking my babies. And then you show up, and the loneliness and pain start all over again . . . and I know my regrets aren’t enough . . . I try to be a good man.“
“You say you were just a boy,” Mr. Hawkins. “You were a boy,” she repeated. “Where is Dullen?”
“Dead. Sarah Easton killed him.” She heard a shudder in his heavy sigh. “Dullen fired off a range war with the Eastons. He wanted their spread, too, so he kidnapped Sarah and little Emily for ransom. Mrs. Easton had a gun hidden in her skirts, and when she got a fighting chance she shot the Satan. Miss, I wouldn’t blame you if you called for my hanging.”
The chair creaked as Hannah leaned forward. She took Hawkins’ hand, and squeezed. “I forgive you. I forgive you, John Hawkins.”
He retreated to a stunned reverential silence. At last he whispered. “You absolve me? Why?”
“Mr. Hawkins, as I look at the vast expanse of life I see endless possibilities for healing and, yes, forgiveness. Every day I face the emotional toll of physical and mental pain, for myself, and others. We all have lingering fears, and regret of errors. I see veterans who struggle with the senselessness of taking lives during the war. I see widows and mothers who have lost children.”
“My purpose is to ease pain and suffering. What good would it do either of us to continue in a contemptuous fashion? We cannot forget, but we can forgive, and we can do right by others to atone for the past. I wake up every morning and ask myself what I can do to make the world better. Mr. Hawkins, I know you do the same. Your love for Nelda tells me you have a good h
eart. I make the world better today by forgiving you and helping to end your self-torture.”
He stared at the floor. “You offer the gift of forgiveness, but I have nothing to give you.”
“You’ve given me your honesty, your apology, and your discretion in this matter. It would please me not to speak of it again. I ask you to forgive yourself, so that your mind might be at peace. You’ve helped to begin an easing for me. Now I know the truth about what happened that long ago night.”
Hawkins wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “You were hurt.” He looked down at her skirt. “That’s been on my conscience. Are you all right?”
Hannah lifted her skirt slightly to show a small portion of her scarring. “It isn’t much,” she lied.
“It doesn’t hurt?” His face was drawn.
“There is no physical pain.” She dropped her skirt. “I am not limited in my work.”
He swallowed and kept his eyes on the floor. “You must believe this: My heart isn’t stone cold. It cries with yours.”
“I know. Mr. Hawkins, I understand the hardest person to forgive is yourself, but you must, so you can be your best as a husband and father.”
“Doctor Hannah, you, I -- ”
“Don’t let it eat at your soul,” she whispered. Hannah stood and smoothed her hair back from her temples. She had to save effort for the task ahead with Nelda Rose. “Now, Mr. Hawkins, my friend, your child is about to arrive. I need your help. Will you assist?”
“Tell me what to do. Doctor Hannah. I am ever grateful.”
* * *
Two hours later, John Hawkins experienced joy he couldn’t recall. Doctor Hannah lifted a baby girl into his eager arms as Nelda’s laughter washed over him like a cleansing spring shower.
“She’s beautiful,” Nelda gushed.
“Oh, yes,” Hannah assured as she wiped her own eyes. “She’s strong. I’ve never heard one yell with such gusto.” Hannah shouted over the baby’s wails.
John tenderly positioned the baby in Nelda Rose’s arms as Hannah slipped from the room to give the couple privacy. John stroked Nelda’s hair and kissed her face. “Thank you for my daughter.”
Nelda’s voice broke. “John, this time it feels different. We’re going to be a family. Doctor Hannah Sutton came to bring us this angel.”
He gazed into Nelda’s resolute eyes. “I believe she did.”
John Hawkins heard voices outside in the hall, and he rose and opened the door. Doctor Rutherford was speaking with Hannah, who was excitedly telling him about how well the birthing had gone, how strong Nelda and the baby were, and how happy she was for this outcome. Emotion rose in John upon overhearing Hannah’s eager words, and he stepped out into the hallway.
“Congratulations, Hawkins!” Rutherford extended a hand for a hearty shake. “I wish I’d been here, but a cowpuncher out at Mineral Creek was thrown from his mount at the same time we got word about Nelda. It appears Doctor Hannah had things well in hand.”
“Yes,” John swallowed and pumped Rutherford’s hand. He noted Hannah’s open delight as she basked in the Doc’s praise. It was clear she admired the man, perhaps she was sweet on him. Yes, she was, John decided.
By John Hawkins’ reckoning, Doctor Hannah had saved his life, and she deserved the most he could muster for her. So, in that moment, John decided to work toward such an end: He’d promote Hannah in town, and he’d encourage Rutherford to marry her. Rutherford had lured her out here, and now it was his duty to provide this fine woman with security and some measure of happiness. Hawkins decided he would go as far as necessary, even to shaming Doc Rutherford into taking Hannah to the altar.
Rutherford shook John from his reverie. “Have you named the baby?”
The new father puffed up like a proud rooster. “Rose Hannah.”
Chapter 16
Sheriff Roy Easton didn’t butt in on other folks’ affairs, unless it was for their own good, and Jed and Hannah clearly needed his nudging. The town’s docs beat the nation when it came to fixing other people’s ailments, but they groped about, as blind as newborn kittens, when it came to healing themselves.
Roy figured a little prying and poking never hurt anyone, and a visit to the doctor’s office with a real or imagined malady was an opportunity to show up uninvited. So, one hot, roughshod afternoon in early July he strode into the Rutherford-Sutton surgery. He sauntered past the cot in the kitchen, noting the disheveled blankets. Clearly, Rutherford hadn’t yet stamped his brand on the woman.
“Doc Hannah, can you get a splinter out of my hand?”
Hannah leaned over the lawman’s splayed palm and squinted. “I see it. Mr. Easton. It’s the third one this week.”
Roy’s blue eyes twinkled. “Ma’am, it’s the post outside the jailhouse.”
Hannah hissed. “Stop touching it!”
“It reached out and grabs me. Honest. Say, did you get the cake Emily brought over?” Emily was Roy’s young sister-in-law.
“Yes, and yes, she mentioned how handsome Doctor Rutherford is, again. Tell her ‘thank you’.”
Rutherford wandered in at that moment, and when Roy caught his eye he leaned into Hannah and breathed deeply. Observing the irritation sweep across Jed’s face, Roy grinned. “Miss Hannah, did I ever tell you about the time Cal and I drove four hundred beeves up to the Missouri River?”
Hannah pulled out the splinter and poked at Roy’s hard chest. “No. Does this hurt?”
“Only on Thursdays. My feet hurt on Saturday, and my head aches after a night at the Copper Strike saloon. What have I got, Doc?”
“A good imagination,” Hannah rolled her grey eyes toward the ceiling.
Rutherford opened a cabinet in the corner. He appeared to be searching for something.
Roy raised his voice. “I’d say there’s only one man lacking in imagination around here. But don’t you fret, Doctor. John Hawkins wrote to his brother.”
“And what business is it of yours?”
“Hawkins has a bachelor brother, and he’s of a mind to come to help John, if there’s a woman he can court in these parts.”
A bottle crashed to the floor, and Rutherford cursed.
“You all right, Jed?” Roy called across the room.
“I’m fine,” he growled.
Roy figured he was hitting his mark, so he continued on. “Of course, John has written about you, and his brother won’t hold you living with a man against you, seeing as Jed is onlys your business partner.”
Hannah blushed. “Mr. Easton, I have to get on to other chores now.”
Roy grimaced and took his hat from the chair he’d set it on when he entered the room. “Oh, I nearly forgot,” he reached into his vest and pulled forth a letter. “This came in on the wagon, and Watkins asked me to bring it over.”
Hannah brightened as she recognized her mother’s handwriting on the envelope. “Thank you, Mr. Easton.”
Roy shoved his hat on his head. “You’re welcome.” He looked over at Jed. “I expect I’ll see you at base ball practice this afternoon? We’re going to beat Ingston this time.”
“Yes. See you there.”
Roy tapped his hat brim. His mission accomplished, he turned and walked out of the office.
Hannah sighed, leaned against the examining table and tore open the correspondence.
Dearest Hannah,
It was a great joy to be in receipt of your letter. How happy and satisfied you must be after bringing new life into the world. What an honor for you to receive a namesake child in little Rose Hannah!
My life continues it’s amiable path, and I tell you my dear, that my vision begins to fail me, yet daily walks are a pleasure, and I’m blest with husband and daughters so fine. Joy swells in my breast with the knowledge you are safe and find purpose in your work.
In one concern I find I must speak, and I do so to guard your reputation. Your impropriety, in living in quarters with Doctor Rutherford, must be addressed. A proper unmarried lady secures another of her
gender as bosom friend, confidant, and house companion, and it troubles my mind to know you are living with a man without matrimonial security. I fear a future of repentance for the sin of not securing him as husband, and therefore you must lead him to the altar with haste. I expect you’ll have married by the time we visit next spring, or I fear your father will have ugly and disagreeable words with Doctor Rutherford.
A good man yields to the woman he takes to his hearth.
Your loving Mother
Hannah threw the letter on the table in one swift motion.
“What’s the matter?” Jed looked up from the journal he was reading and eyed her curiously.
“Oddly, my mother is now playing matchmaker from afar.”
Jed worked his jaw back and forth. “You won’t be leaving me, will you?”
“No. Wounded Colt is my home.”
Chapter 17
Hannah was cleaning the surgery. Dust rag in hand, she swept briskly across a set of books on a shelf, pushing them further into the case. She heard the thud of falling objects. Hannah reached blindly between two books and groped. Her hand stilled as though sensing the gravity of her find. Three medicine bottles. Confirmation of what she suspected shattered her.
After painful deliberation, Hannah decided to replace half the morphine with tiny wheat grains. If he were a mouth taker, as she believed he was, it would dilute his habit. Hannah tried to tell herself he no longer needed the drug, because the nightmares had decreased in frequency and intensity, and, after all, easing him off slowly was the kindest, most humane way.
To this end, she ran the surgery supply of opiates over to Hawkins hotel, where her friend John agreed to store it in his safe. She knew she was doing right, but even so she felt a sickening knot grinding in her stomach.
After five days, Hannah checked the levels of drug in the hidden bottles, only to find Jed had stymied her plan by taking it at twice his regular rate. She’d erred, not in her intent, but in her approach. She should have known, as he didn’t exhibit the symptoms of one who was quitting morphine. Did Jed suspect her intervention? It wasn’t likely, as he hadn’t moved the bottles.
