by Sharon Ihle
Their heads swiveling in unison, Jacob and Dominique cast furtive glances at each other as they observed the strange proceedings. But they did not clap along with the music. Jacob's arm remained across Dominique's shoulders, and her hands stayed clasped in a tight ball at the front of her gingham dress. Even though they studied the entertainers, their concentration centered on each other's touch. Then the Oriental girl in the scarlet Chinese gown managed to capture their attention as she ran her finger across a farmer's palm.
In a high, squeaky voice, Princess Ling Ling proclaimed, "I see a record crop in the next harvest." She paused, allowing the crowd their oh's and ah's, then continued. "But I also forcast bouts of debilitating illness for you and your wife, too." She tore off the blindfold and widened her almond-shaped eyes. "You must take the proper precautions to guard your health. If you don't," she warned, waving a two-inch fingernail in his face, "I fear you will not live to see your abundant crops reaped."
Several women gasped as others made their way forward and had their fortunes told. The words varied, but the princess always ended with dire warnings about expected sicknesses. Alarmed, Jacob pulled Dominique closer to question her about these illnesses just as another farmer stepped forward. He waved off the free palm reading and turned to the crowd, silencing them with his announcement.
"It's not as bad as it sounds. I know because I speak from experience." He spun around to the wagon and its owner. "You still make that tonic, Professor? It saved my life more than once last year, and I'm sad to say I'm almost out. I'd be right grateful if you'd sell me some more."
"Why, as luck would have it, I do believe I still have a bottle or two left." The professor pointed to the Indian. "Chief Nogasackett, would you please have a look at our supplies?"
Jacob and Dominique exchanged curious glances, and he whispered, "What is a tonic?"
"Medicine of some kind."
Jacob touched the small pouch beneath his shirt wondering if the professor's medicine was as powerful as that mixed by Sitting Bull, if it could cure illness of the mind as well as of the body. Then the Indian strolled back to the front of the crowd, his broad grin exposing several crooked, stained teeth. Although uncommonly white for a red man, Chief Nogasackett had the expected braids hanging down his back and a large feather protruding from a bright red headband, but he wore the baggy trousers of a miner. Sewn to the legs of these pants were large pockets bulging with glass decanters of the mysterious tonic.
Taking one of these bottles from the chief, Professor Harrington held it high above the crowd. "The life-saving formula our friend and neighbor speaks of is contained right here in this vial, this elixir of life. I have observed the authenticity of this product firsthand," he proclaimed. "I have accompanied Chief Nogasackett on many an excursion as he picks just the right herbs and roots, blends them with his own specially grown herbs, and adds them to the mystical power contained in Princess Ling Ling's secret extract of poppy."
He paused, taking a breath, and gave the crowd a chance to absorb the information before he made yet another proclamation. "I stand behind this product with a guarantee no other can offer—Professor Harrington's Nature Cure and Worm Syrup will heal liver ailments, eliminate all suffering from the pain of a toothache to the agony of childbirth, and restore health to those who must endure any number of maladies."
Again he paused, this time giving the chief a chance to resume his tunes. As the music built to fever pitch, the professor made his final claims. "More than a spring tonic, able to purify and strengthen even the weakest of blood, this miracle cure and worm syrup can be yours for just one dollar. One small coin between you and the best health you've ever had. Step right up, folks. Get yours while the supply lasts."
The chief resumed his banjo playing as the farmer came forward and bought two bottles of the murky liquid. Again, Jacob and Dominique exchanged glances.
"This must be very powerful medicine," Jacob breathed.
"I have to admit that it does sound kind of interesting," she said, thinking of the dreadful cramping she was having from her monthly miseries. "Maybe I should try some. I do have a—a stomachache."
"And if it works the way the man says it does ..." Jacob answered, pushing his hand against his belly and the constant agitation he'd had since joining the army. He stepped forward and addressed the professor. "Will this medicine work on an angry belly?"
"Indigestion, you say? You hear that, folks? The man wants to know if the professor's cure will relieve his indigestion. Hell, son, I don't even mention an ailment as simple as that. 'Course my tonic can cure a sick gut. That goes without saying."
The professor turned as if to speak to someone else, but Jacob reached over and gripped his arm. "Then I would like to have two bottles, please."
The professor paused, regarding the large hand circling his biceps, and said, "Why didn't you say so? Chief, give the man his potion. That'll be two dollars, sir."
Jacob paid him, then turned to Dominique and escorted her back through the excited crowd. Alone on the boardwalk, they ducked out of the afternoon sun under the barbershop awning. There Jacob handed her one of the bottles.
"Thanks, Jacob, but I can't pay you until Hazel gets back. I'm afraid I don’t carry money."
"There is no need. I bought this as a gift for you. Please accept it."
"But, Jacob. You can't afford to spend a whole dollar on me. I know what the army pays, and it's not near enough."
"It is for me. I have no use for money. Let us see what I have spent these worthless coins on." With that, he reached over and twisted the cap off her bottle, then did the same to his own.
Jacob sniffed at the liquid. Tilting his head, he took a large gulp. He shuddered, wondering briefly why the medicine tasted so familiar, then took another swallow.
Dominique observed his reaction. "Well? What do you think?"
Jacob frowned as the potion flowed throughout his system melting cords of muscle at will. "It tastes, it even feels, a little like whiskey."
"Oh," she said, "don't be ridiculous. This is medicine." With that, she eased a few drops into her mouth and grimaced at the bitter taste. She waited a moment, noticing that her tongue was growing warm and numb.
"It reminds me a little of my father's couch medicine. How bad can that be?"
Always careful to keep a ladylike demeanor, she averted her face from the crowd and took a large swallow of the syrup. Soon after, her entire body grew warm, glowed from within. Her cramps rapidly numbing, she waved Jacob and his objections away and indulged in another, larger dose of medicine.
Hazel and Barney took one last stroll through the mercantile store, but there was still no sign of Dominique and Jacob. Where could they be? As they hurried back out into the street, panic began to replace worry in the anxious pair. Barney checked the setting sun, wondering how much time they had left. That was when he spotted Captain Ruffing and his men heading toward the wagon. Time had run out.
Thinking fast, Barney turned to Hazel. "I'll take you back to the buckboard. When the captain gets there, try to stall him while I check a few other places."
"Oh, Barney. This is all my fault. Dominique is my responsibility. I should have stayed with her."
"That kind of talk isn't going to do us any good," he encouraged as he helped her across the street. "Just keep calm and don't say a thing about this to the captain. I'll explain to him if it's necessary when I return to the—" The words stuck in his throat as he noticed a long red-gold curl hanging down over the rear slat of the buckboard.
He straight-armed a very surprised Hazel. "Stay here. Don't move." Drawing his gun, Barney cautiously approached the wagon and peered inside.
Dominique pushed her chin upward, and gave the lieutenant an upside down grin. "Hi, Barney. How's you?"
Jacob rolled over on his side and jackknifed to a sitting position.
Barney demanded, "What the hell is going on here?"
Seeing there was no danger, Hazel joined him and looked in
side the back of the wagon. "Dominique," she cried, her hands to her cheeks. "What are you doing in there? What's he doing in there with you? My Lord, girl, have you no sense of propriety?"
"I fine, Hazel, reedy I am." She pushed up with one hand, trying to sit up, but toppled over on her face instead.
Jacob turned up his palms. "I tried to tell her about the medicine."
"Quiet, soldier." Barney glanced up the street, checking the captain's progress, then circled the buckboard. Reaching inside, he grabbed the back of Jacob's shirt. "I don't know what you could have been thinking about when you got that girl drunk, but right now you'd better listen and listen good."
Jacob's eyes swam in a murky, bitter haze, but his mind was clear enough for him to realize his best defense was silence.
"Get your butt on that horse now and find a way to stay on it. Don't say a word to anyone. Just ride on down the road and pray to God that animal knows the way home. Understand, soldier?" At Jacob's slow nod, he added, "You and I will have a little talk about this later. Now, git."
Knowing he had no choice but to obey, Jacob hoisted his long legs over the side of the wagon, mounted the sorrel, and rode to the edge of town while Barney and Hazel tried to extract Dominique from the buckboard. Their efforts were wasted.
Every time they pulled her into a sitting position and tried to get her to her feet, Dominique burst into raucous laughter and fell over backwards.
"This isn't going to work," Barney complained as the captain neared. "We'll have to think of something else." Reaching inside the wagon, he smoothed Dominique's dress, then covered her with the blanket from their seat.
Barney had just helped Hazel onto the wooden plank when the captain arrived, demanding, "Everyone ready to go? Where's Miss DuBois?"
Barney held a finger to his mouth as he climbed on board beside Hazel. "Shush. I'm afraid the young lady has taken ill. Too much sun today. She's resting in the back, but we really should return her to her aunt in all haste."
Ed Ruffing raised his brows, took a quick look in the back, and vaulted onto the driver's seat. "Head on out, boys. We got a sick one with us."
The wagon lurched to life, then made a large arc as it turned homeward. The movement disturbed Dominique's sense of equilibrium. Again she tried to sit up.
Like a doily spread across the back of a sofa, warm fingers covered her face and pushed her back down in the straw.
That hand was the last thing Dominique remembered during the long ride home.
Chapter Eight
“You’re a man riding full out toward thirty years of age, and I got to tell you." Barney stopped his pacing and looked the private straight in the eye. "It's damn hard for me to believe you didn't know what was in that elixir."
Jacob brought the tin cup to his mouth and took a sip of coffee. Groaning at the bitter taste, he said, "The professor told us it was medicine. Other soldiers were at his show. They will tell you that I am speaking the truth."
Barney slammed his fist into his open palm. "And stop talking like that. You sound like a dam Indian."
Jacob lifted his head and tried to shoot the lieutenant down with a fiery gaze, but a stabbing pain behind his right eye rendered him unarmed. His head drooped down toward the table again as he tried not to think about the awful taste in his mouth.
"Sorry," Barney mumbled. "I don't mean to add to your considerable troubles by insulting you, but I'm kinda worried about my own hide. If Mrs. Custer gets wind of this and tells the general, we'll all be court-martialed."
"And would that bring us trouble?"
Barney's laugh was bitter as he explained, "I suppose that depends on your point of view. Me, I plan to stay in this man's army until I retire. That means I want leave the cavalry when it's my idea, not theirs. You got no stake just yet. I suppose there's lots worse things that could happen to you than getting thrown out of the army."
"No. That cannot happen." Jacob struggled to his feet and lurched forward. Using the table for support, he said, "Please tell me what I have to do to make everything all right. Who can help me?"
"Now, take it easy, Private. Sit a spell. You're looking a little pasty-faced."
"But I must remain a soldier in Custer's army. Please tell me who can help me. What should I do?"
"Jacob, take it easy." Alarmed, Barney circled the table and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "I didn't know a career in the cavalry meant so much to you. The situation's probably not as bad as I thought. Hazel's pretty good with words. I think we can assume she's been able to convince Libbie that Dominique was just a little sick."
"I cannot assume anything. I have to go to her and make certain all is well."
Barney laughed. "That's real brave of you, soldier, but you can't just go waltzing up to the Custer house and expect to be welcomed.''
"I think I am welcome." He reached into his pocket and handed the note to Barney.
Even though the invitation was issued nearly two weeks ago, it was undated, as Jacob hoped. "Well, I'll be damned if you ain't welcome," Barney said as he read the delicate script. He scratched his head and returned the note. "I'd give my left arm for an invite to that house, and they go and ask you instead, a private, for heaven’s sake."
"I am sorry, Barney, but I must go."
"Hell, you got no need for apologies unless that girl wrote the invitation when she was drunk. That it? Better tell the truth, Private."
"No, no. Miss DuBois gave it to me before we left for town."
“Then go on, get on out of here before you insult them by being late." As Jacob smoothed his hair and reached for his hat, Barney added a footnote. "Be sure to give my regards to Mrs. Swenson if she's there, hear?"
"I will." After popping a peppermint ball into his mouth, Jacob ambled out of the barracks. He slowly made his way past the officer's quarters, preparing and discarding speech after speech, then labored up the white steps to the Custer home. He stared at the glass panels surrounding the door for a long moment before he was able to bring himself to knock.
Upstairs, Hazel offered a steaming bowl of lentil soup to Dominique.
"Ugh, no." Turning her head, she tried to wave her chaperon off, but Hazel was insistent.
"Now, you listen to me, young lady. If you weren't past twenty-one years of age, I'd turn you over my knee and spank you. Now sit up and eat before your Aunt Libbie gets back from Major Kennedy's and guesses the state you're in."
"But, Hazel, I can't," she groaned. "It will make me sicker than I already am."
"Humph. You should have thought of that before you decided to swill a whole bottle of the devil's own brew."
With a low moan, Dominique collapsed against the pillows on her bed. "That's not fair. I didn't know what it was. I thought it would ease my miseries." And it had for a while. Now her cramps were back, stronger than ever, second only to the roaring pain thundering against her temples. "Please, Hazel. Just let me go to sleep. Tell Aunt Libbie that I took sun-sick like you told everyone else. Please?"
"I shouldn't let you off the hook so easily. What I ought to do—" A couple of sharp raps against the door cut into her thoughts. "I'll bet that's your aunt now. What shall I tell her?" Hazel slid off the bed and hurried to the door. When she opened it, Mary stared back at her.
"Scuse me, miz, but they's a soldier wanting to see Miss Nikki. Says it be mighty important."
"Oh? Did he leave his name?"
"Stoltz. Private Stoltz."
"Jacob's here?" Dominique bolted off the bed and stumbled over to the looking glass. "Tell him I'll be right down, Mary. Oh, dear Lord, I look a fright. Hazel, quick, help me with my hair."
With one raised eyebrow, Hazel nodded to Mary. "Tell the private I'll be down in a moment." Then she closed the door and stalked over to the dresser. "You can't seriously be thinking of entertaining the swine who got you in your cups this afternoon."
"Hazel, please. Fix the back of my hair." She pinched her cheeks, then gave each one a hard slap. "And kindly stop saying
that. Jacob didn't mean to get me drunk. He thought the elixir was medicine, too."
"Of course he did, my dear." Hazel blew a long low whistle as she finished knotting Dominique's hair. "Boy, do you have a lot to learn about men."
Some of Dominique's sparkle returned as she winked at Hazel's reflection. "You're right, of course, but how do you expect me to finish my education while standing in here with you? Shouldn't I be downstairs—with one of them? " She twirled, brushing a few lingering bits of straw off her blue gingham dress, and started for the door.
"Not so fast, missy." One step behind her, Hazel went over the rules. "First off, it's highly improper of you even to see a fellow who doesn't have an invitation to visit you. Second, you will not be seeing him alone. I shall accompany you."
