by Ginny Dye
Victoria smiled brightly. “Hello, Mrs. Borden. How would you like your tea?”
“Just a little cream, thank you, Victoria,” Carrie answered. Her impatience was growing. She would appreciate the hot tea, but she wanted so much to know why she was in Richmond.
Dr. Hobson waved her toward one of the chairs next to the crackling fire. He waited until she sat down and then chose the one across from her. “I will not keep you in suspense. I understand you are ready to continue your pursuit of becoming a doctor.”
“That’s right.” Carrie didn’t want to discuss the long months she had stayed mired in the belief she had been responsible for both Robert and Bridget’s deaths – convinced she would never be a doctor.
“Abby told me you saved her life in Kansas. Her life, and the lives of three children.”
“Actually, it was the medicines she brought along from you that saved their lives,” Carrie corrected, once again feeling the gratitude that had swept through her when she realized she had what she needed to help the critically ill patients. “Thank you.”
“You knew what to do with them,” Dr. Hobson responded.
When he took a deep breath, Carrie hoped he was ready to discuss the real reason she was here. The serious look on his face gave her a quick flash of alarm. Had she done something wrong? Was she to be refused entry to school? Was her career over before it could even be resumed? There had been nothing in the letter to give her that feeling, but then there had been nothing to give her an indication of anything. All she could do was wait to hear whatever he had to say. She clasped her hands together and watched him closely.
“I have been communicating with Dr. Strikener,” Dr. Hobson began.
Carrie remained quiet. Her mentor at the College of Homeopathy in Philadelphia had been nothing but supportive and encouraging, but she may have pushed him past his tolerance with her long silence.
“He and I agree you do not need more schooling at the college.”
Carrie froze for several long moments. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she finally managed. “Am I not going to be allowed to return to Philadelphia?”
“Oh, you will be allowed, but I don’t think it will be your best course of action.”
Carrie shook her head. “Excuse me if I’m confused.”
“I’m not doing a good job with this. I’m afraid I have no experience with telling a medical student that they are so far advanced in experience that we believe we have nothing more to teach you.” Dr. Hobson paused. “You’ve read every book that I sent you home with last year, haven’t you?”
Carrie nodded. Most had been read before Robert’s death. The rest she had devoured upon her return from Kansas, putting much of it to use in her clinic.
“I suspected as much. Carrie, Dr. Strikener and I would like to suggest a different path for you to obtain your medical license.”
“I won’t have to return to Philadelphia?” Carrie asked, her head spinning with the direction the conversation was taking.
“Would that make you happy?”
Carrie cocked her head. “That depends. You might want me to go somewhere worse.”
Dr. Hobson laughed. “What if it were your choice what you did?” He held up a hand. “Both Dr. Strikener and I believe you need one final experience that will test your medical abilities before we grant your license, but we don’t believe sitting in classes will benefit you.”
Carrie stared at him. “Is this normal?”
“Hardly. But then you aren’t exactly normal, Mrs. Carrie Borden. I have seldom met anyone, of any gender, who has such an immediate grasp of medical issues, or who has such a hunger to help their patients.” He leaned back in his chair. “You are here so we can decide what internship you would like to do during the next eight months. At the end of the internship, if we believe you have accomplished what we believe you are capable of, we will grant your medical license from the Homeopathic Medical College.”
Carrie shook her head and gazed into the flames. “I was not expecting anything like this,” she murmured.
“Do you have any ideas of what you would like to do? You are more than welcome to do your internship here at my office, but you are free to make another choice.”
Carrie held her breath as a wild idea sprang into her mind. Her thoughts raced as she considered what she was about to suggest. There were far more questions than answers, and she was not at all certain how she felt about her own idea, but once it had sprung into her thoughts it refused to go away.
“You have something in mind,” Dr. Hobson observed. “What is it?”
Carrie continued to stare into the flames, uncertain of how to communicate what she was thinking. It was ludicrous, and yet…
“Please, tell me. It may not be as crazy as your expression tells me you believe it is.”
Carrie finally looked at the doctor. “Have you ever heard of Bosque Redondo?” His blank look answered her question. “It is a Navajo Indian Reservation in New Mexico. Right now there are more than eight thousand Indians there who have been torn from their homeland.” Her voice grew passionate as she thought about all she had learned from Chooli in the past weeks. “People are dying from diseases they have no treatment for because they no longer have access to the herbs of their homeland that they have always used.” She paused as she searched for what to say next.
Dr. Hobson’s eyes revealed his confusion.
“I want to go there,” Carrie blurted out. “I want to take a few medical students with me, and I want to go there to help those people. I want to learn the herbs and plants in the Southwest that heal, and I want to take enough of our homeopathic medicines to help the Navajo that are dying.”
It was Dr. Hobson’s turn to stare. “In New Mexico?”
“Yes,” Carrie said. Now that she had actually put the idea into words, it had taken on even greater appeal.
“How will you get there?” Dr. Hobson asked faintly, his expression saying he had no idea how to respond.
Carrie smiled, certain she would find a way. “I don’t know, but those people need help. If I’m being given a choice of what I want to do, that is my choice.”
“Do you realize how far it is to New Mexico?”
Carrie nodded, suddenly realizing her talks with Chooli and Franklin had revealed exactly how she would get there. “We will take the train into Independence, Missouri,” she answered. “From there, it will take close to three months of travel to reach the reservation in New Mexico.” Her mind spun as she talked. “I can write a book that documents all I learn. It will be of great use to anyone who comes after me. The students with me will learn quite a lot, and they will have the satisfaction of saving lives.”
Dr. Hobson continued to stare at her, obviously at a loss for words. “You are certainly not normal, Mrs. Carrie Borden.”
Carrie laughed cheerfully, feeling suddenly that she was about to embark on a grand adventure. She wouldn’t have to return to the confines of Philadelphia, but she would also have a chance to move forward without constant remembrances of all she had lost when Robert died. She had no idea of what would be waiting for her when she returned, but none of that seemed important right now.
“We have a young lady living on the plantation who is Navajo, Dr. Hobson. Chooli is quite remarkable. Her grandfather is a revered medicine man in the Navajo tribe. I have been teaching her the herbs and medicines I use, and she is teaching me about the native medicines. I’m sure she would love to join us, but her daughter is only six weeks old.” She chose to not mention that Chooli had escaped the reservation. “Chooli can teach me even more of what I need to know before I get there, and I know communication from her will open doors of trust with her people.” Every word she spoke told Carrie this was the right thing to do, but she hesitated. “Is this not the type of internship you had in mind?” she asked. “Might it not meet the requirements you have set?”
Dr. Hobson laughed and shook his head. “It is far larger than anything Dr. Strikener
and I could have possibly imagined.” His face grew more serious. “This is a large endeavor. I’m sure your father will never agree to this unless he is assured of your safety, but I will only approve it if I can be assured of the other students’ safety, as well. And, of course, you have to convince someone that this is a good idea.”
Carrie nodded. “I’m certain I can.” Her mind whirled. She had no idea how to accomplish what she was proposing, but there must be a way. “I will do some research and then I’ll be back to talk to you.”
Dr. Hobson reached for his tea and took a long swallow. “I am confident you will.”
Carrie laughed brightly. “You have given me such a gift, Dr. Hobson. I will find the answers, and I will not disappoint you.”
Dr. Hobson eyed her over his cup. “Do you know anything about the Santa Fe Trail? I know there is no railroad out there.”
“No railroad,” Carrie agreed. She thought about what Franklin had told her. “We would travel by wagon train for twelve hundred miles. It can normally be done in about sixty days, but the reality of winter might make it take a little longer.”
“Winter?” The doctor put down his cup carefully.
“You said my internship will be for eight months. I imagine it will take until early February to have everything in place that we will need.” Her mind worked as she talked. “I will go to Philadelphia to select the students who will join me.”
“Select? Do you suppose you will have more that will want to go than you will have room for?” Dr. Hobson asked skeptically.
Carrie was certain of that very thing. “Why, yes, of course. This is a wonderful opportunity to do things most medical students could never dream of. Besides,” she added with a grin, “who doesn’t want to leave Philadelphia in the wintertime?”
“To travel the Santa Fe Trail in a covered wagon? I suspect there will be many that prefer the snow-clogged streets of Philadelphia.”
Carrie waved her hand. “I only need a few. If they are trained correctly, we will be able to help with almost all the diseases killing the Navajo.” She sobered instantly. She was treating this as a grand lark, but the truth was that many lives were at stake. She leaned forward. “I have to try, Dr. Hobson. The Navajo are a proud and wonderful people. What is being done to them is wrong. I can’t stand by and do nothing if I have an opportunity to help them.” She sat back. “I will return to my father’s house and find out just what it will take to turn this wild idea into reality. Then I will come back to talk to you. You can tell me then if my plans meet your approval.” Carrie stood and held out her hand, eager to begin right away.
Dr. Hobson rose and clasped her hand firmly. “You do that, Carrie. I will be most eager to hear what you discover.”
Chapter Nine
Rose looked up from her papers when she heard a noise at the door. Felicia was staring at her intently, but had not said a word. Rose smiled and set aside the papers on Oberlin. “Hello, Felicia. Do you need something?” Her daughter had come so far in the two years since her parents’ brutal murders, but Felicia seldom sought her out.
“I want to do a Kinaalda.”
Rose blinked. “A what?”
Felicia smiled slightly before moving into the room. Evidently blurting out her intention for being here had freed her enough to pursue it. “I want to do a Kinaalda,” she repeated.
“I heard that part,” Rose said. “I don’t know what it is, but I’m listening.”
“Chooli didn’t tell you about it?”
“Evidently not, but I’m intrigued. What is a Kinaalda?”
“It’s the Navajo rite of passage for women,” Felicia explained. “Girls do it when they turn thirteen. I turn thirteen next month. I want to do a Kinaalda.”
Rose knew from the anxious look in Felicia’s eyes, and the abrupt sentences she was speaking with, just how much this meant to her daughter. “That seems like a reasonable request,” she said.
Felicia stared at her. “It does?”
Rose nodded, memories flooding her mind. “My mama used to talk about the rite of passage she did when she was a girl in Africa. There weren’t many things she told me about her life there, but that one was important to her.”
“Did you do a rite of passage, too?” Felicia asked eagerly.
Rose shook her head. “I was still a slave. We weren’t allowed to do things like that. I’m sure it was mostly because it would have taken us away from the work we were meant to do, but it was also because the Cromwells believed we needed to be separated from anything that would remind us of our old life and culture.”
“Thomas did that?” Felicia asked in an appalled voice. “Our Thomas?”
“Thomas has changed quite a bit,” Rose reminded her. “He used to do things the way his daddy did them, and the way his granddaddy did them. It took Carrie, and a long war, to help him change the way he thought.” She took Felicia’s hand. “He is the man you know him to be now. There are many people who have very wrong beliefs until they meet someone who puts a face to those wrong beliefs.”
“Like you.”
“Learning I was his half-sister certainly played a part in it,” Rose agreed, “but Carrie was the biggest reason he changed. It took him a long time to understand her love for black people. It took him a longer time to understand the need for equality for all people, but he finally did. It took a lot of courage for him to do that. Don’t feel badly that he used to believe differently. All of us have wrong beliefs about something that we need to change. Only people who are truly courageous find the way to do that.”
“Oh, I know Thomas is a great man,” Felicia answered. “I had to change, too,” she said earnestly.
Rose gazed at the girl. “How did you have to change?”
“I hated everyone that was white when my mama and daddy were killed. The only thing I knew about white people was that they made my parents be slaves, and then they killed them.” Her eyes burned with the memory. “I hated them all…” Felicia’s voice faded away, but she looked up with a smile. “Until I came here. Carrie and Robert were different. And then I met Thomas and Abby. I could tell they were good people, so I had to change how I thought about white people.” She paused thoughtfully. “I suppose I’ve learned there are good and bad people everywhere. There are good and bad people of all colors. None of what is on the outside matters at all—it’s only what is on the inside.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “And then you made me change.”
“And how did I do that?” Rose asked, amazed at the depth of this little girl.
“I had to change when you let white students come to our school. At first I hated it. I never said anything because I knew how much it meant to you, but there were some of them that were real mean to me.”
“I’m sorry for that,” Rose said softly. She had been completely aware, but had known she had to let Felicia handle it herself.
“Oh, it’s okay,” Felicia said intently. “I thought they were as stupid as they thought I was. I just decided to prove I was smarter than any white student there.” She smiled. “I still think I’m smarter than anyone there, but I learned there are some very smart white students, too. Some of the ones who were real mean to me are now friends. Anyway,” she added, “I had to change, so I understand people needing to change. I also realized I can’t change other people, but I can change me.”
Rose pulled her into a warm embrace. “You are extraordinary,” she whispered. “I love you.”
Felicia leaned back but didn’t break the embrace. “I love you too, Mama. Does that mean I get to do the Kinaalda?”
Rose laughed. “Tell me about it.”
“It’s the Navajo rite of passage for girls who are thirteen. It’s what they do to become a woman,” Felicia began. “Chooli told me all about it.”
“What do they do?” Rose was not sure this was the best way for Felicia to enter womanhood, but she was certainly curious to know more. Ultimately, it would be her daughter’s choice.
“Kinaalda lasts
for four days. During that time, the girl learns how important the Earth is to her life. Chooli says her people have many rituals to maintain hozho. Hozho is everything that is good and happy and beautiful.” Her eyes shone. “The rituals must be done correctly to be effective,” Felicia said seriously. “Chooli’s grandfather is a great medicine man so she knows all about it.”
Rose listened intently, eager to learn all she could.
“The girl doing Kinaalda learns that the universe must be kept in perfect order. I learn that I have to take care of the Earth, and that all the animals and plants must be valued. The Earth is the mother of all life!” Felicia grew more serious. “There are a lot of regulations and taboos. I can only eat certain things; I can’t touch my own skin, or comb and wash my hair; and I can’t dress or undress myself. Everyone will listen to what I say to make sure I don’t say anything negative because that is not allowed.”
Rose hoped the look on her face was not revealing the thoughts racing through her mind.
“I will have to grind corn, make a special cake called alkaan, and I will have to do a lot of racing.”
“Racing?” Rose asked. “As in running?” It took all she had to get Felicia out of the library, where she spent her days buried in books, journals and newspapers. Rose couldn’t pull up an image of the girl running around the plantation.
“I can do it for four days,” Felicia said impatiently. “Someone will have to mold my body…”
“Mold your body?” Rose interrupted. “What does that mean?”
Felicia hesitated as she thought about the question, and then finally shrugged. “I don’t know, but Chooli said it is important. I’m sure she will explain it more thoroughly. Anyway, someone also has to teach me the proper behavior for being a woman. That person is the one who washes my hair and dresses me. They will also paint my body with white clay and put many shells on me.” She paused to take a breath. “And there are more things.”
“I see,” Rose murmured, though in truth she didn’t see at all. “Did Chooli tell you that you should do a Kinaalda?”
