Miss Thorne Blossoms

by Jordan Bollinger

  "Ah..." Victoria said, "you're a firebrand, aren't you?"

  "Well, I don't think I would have expressed it quite that way, but yes, I suppose I am."

  He looked as if he was about to invite himself to sit and talk some more, when the street door opened, and a woman came in, holding her elbow in her other hand. Harding moved and pressed the woman into the chair, and said, "I'll speak with you again. You have work to do."

  Then he left.

  Chapter Seven

  Several days later, the street door to the surgery opened and a young man of average height and weight, with dark hair and eyes, entered. Stumbled in would probably be more correct, for he was white as a sheet. His undershirt and trousers were wet with blood, which ran down the wrapped hand he supported with the other.

  "Hurry and sit," the doctor said, "before you fall down."

  The man sagged down in a chair, and took a number of deep breaths.

  "Well," Victoria said, as she began the gentle removing of the blood soaked shirt wrapped tightly around his hand, so she could examine the injury, "how did you manage this?"

  "Sheer stupidity!" he exclaimed, in a surprisingly loud voice for one so pale.

  "Kit," the doctor called. When the girl came from the kitchen, Victoria said, "Would you bring me a basin of warm water, several clean towels, some cotton wool, and bandages, please?"

  "Yes, ma'am." She retreated back to the kitchen.

  Victoria repeated, "Now, seriously, how did you cut yourself?"

  "I told you, woman, stupidity—plain and simple. Now," the man said petulantly, "could you just go get the doctor?"

  "I have a feeling you aren't going to be happy, but I am the doctor," Victoria answered, as Kit came in with the basin of water, clothes, and bandages.

  "You..."

  "I'm afraid so," she told him, with a wry smile. She turned to Kit and added, "I'm going to need to stitch this. You know what I'll need."

  "Stitches!"

  "Oh, hush," Victoria said, with a smile, "they won't hurt half as much as this cut repeatedly opening up because you didn't get them."

  "But..."

  "Why don't we introduce ourselves," she said, as she blotted off the worst of the blood. "I'll start, shall I? I am Dr. Victoria Thorne. I've only recently arrived from Philadelphia, and so far, I love Manchester."

  "A Philadelphia doctor, huh," the man said. He eyed her sharply and asked, "I don't suppose you can prove you're a doctor, can you?"

  "As a matter of fact," Victoria said, pointing to the framed diploma she'd only hung on the wall the day before, "I can."

  The man examined the document as best as he could from where he sat, before he asked, "So, you are Dr. Victoria R. Thorne. What does the 'R' stand for?"

  "I'm very sorry to say, 'Rose.' I'd like to say I was given it because it was my mother's name. But, I'm afraid my father just found it amusing." She frowned, and asked, "Now, it's your turn."

  "I'm Neil Stratton. I only just recently purchased a small farm a little ways outside of town."

  "Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Stratton. However, I'd much rather have met you after church or somewhere else, and not under these circumstances." She wrung out a cloth, and warned him, "This is going to sting," before she began a thorough cleaning.

  "Thanks for the warning," he responded, sarcastic while he flinched.

  "Why don't you just tell me how you managed this?"

  "I'd just finished sharpening a sickle, and the dang dog was chasing something—a rat or rabbit, something—and ran straight into me and nearly knocked me over. I caught myself from falling, but dropped the sickle. It was either let it fall on him, or catch it. So, I caught the sickle blade and dang near cut off my hand."

  "Well," she said, "without opening your hand or flattening it any more than it already is, can you wiggle your fingers for me?"

  "I'll try—"

  "But remember, don't open your hand flat. Just wiggle your fingers, if you can."

  Scowling, he did as he was instructed, asking, "Is that what you wanted?"

  "Yes. Perfect. And the good news is that you don't seem to have damaged any of your nerves. So, I'll just stitch it up and bandage you, and you'll be able to go home." She looked up seriously and added, "However, you aren't going to be able to do much of anything—especially jobs like mucking out stalls or milking.

  "You need to keep your hand immobilized and clean—especially clean. So, your wife and children will need to take care of the livestock. Everything else can wait."

  "Yeah, well that might be a problem, since I don't have a wife or children. I don't even have a hired hand. I'm all on my own."

  "Even though I'm new in town, I'm sure we can find you some help. Kit, after you bring in my tray, run across to Meg's and see if Eva can go to Gus', please."

  "I don't need charity. I can pay you, and I can pay for hired help."

  "I didn't mean to insult you, Mr. Stratton. Truly, I didn't. But now I need you to keep still. And, by that, I mean quiet."

  Kit had appeared with an enamel tray carrying needles, catgut, and scissors. She set it down before she slipped out the door.

  "Now, I need you to be as immobile as you can manage," the doctor told Stratton. "And, I will be as quick as I'm able."

  "Go ahead," Neil said, "do your worst."

  "I hope I'm a better doctor than that. Now, why is it, a handsome man like you doesn't have a wife?" she asked, in an attempt to distract him.

  "I lost my wife," he answered. "She died while giving birth to our son. And for what?" he sighed. "He didn't live more than an hour."

  "I'm so sorry, Mr. Stratton," Victoria said, regretting her question. "When did this happen? Was Dr. Cooper still here, or that young man that filled in for him this winter?"

  "My in-laws didn't see the need for a doctor. And, by the time I knew we did, it was too late. What's done is done," he responded, as he twitched from her tying off a stitch.

  "Is that why you've moved here?"

  "Yes," he said. "Although, I'm not having any better luck, now am I? Maybe I should have just stayed where I was. At least there, I had friends and family to fall back on."

  The surgery door opened and Kit reappeared as the doctor adjusted the sling on her patient's arm. "Ma Swenson was at Miss Meg's, waiting while Jonah was picking up some feed. They'll give Mr. Gus the message."

  "All right. Thank you Kit." The doctor looked at her patient and asked, "Would you prefer coffee or tea? Or, perhaps you'd just rather just lie down for a while."

  But, after eyeing him critically for a moment, she decided for him. "Yes, just go lie down," Victoria repeated. "You've lost a substantial amount of blood just getting into town. You need food and rest. And, if you don't want to lose the proper use of your hand—you need to keep it clean and immobilized."

  "I see."

  *****

  Jonah was just tying his horse up in front of the surgery when Meg came across the street, carrying a dutch oven.

  "Let me take that from you, Miss Strong" he said, as he reached for the pot.

  "Thank you, Jonah. But, I really could have managed to carry it another twenty feet," she answered, laughing.

  "That's all right. Gus and Ma, both, would skin any of us alive if they found out we didn't take care of you ladies."

  "Yes, I suppose they would," Meg agreed, as she held the door open for Jonah.

  "Miss...Dr. Thorne," Jonah said, "can I talk to you?" When she looked up from her work, he jerked his head and added, "outside."

  *****

  Victoria checked the bandage and sling on Neil's hand once more, and nodded. Then she looked over at Meg, smiled and said, "You didn't have to bring us dinner. But, thank you. Now, excuse me for a moment," she said, and gestured to Jonah, who followed her outside.

  She knew what he was going to tell her, before he could open his mouth. There was a wagon standing in the street. And, the seat was covered in congealing blood.

  "Oh..." she said. "I'd
thought he might go home, but not anymore. He's lost far too much blood. Do you know his spread?"

  "Yes ma'am. And, Mr. Gus said for me to stay out there. Not leave the place alone at night. So, I'll take this over to the livery stable and clean it up and then ride out to Mr. Stratton's place. Like I said, Mr. Gus says I'm to stay overnight. I'll take care of the animals in the morning again, before I go to work. And, just keep doing that until you and Mr. Gus tell me otherwise."

  "Thank you, Jonah. I'm sure Mr. Stratton will protest. But, you can see how serious his wound is. So, take whatever he says with a grain of salt. He's almost as new here as I am, feeling a bit of an outsider, proud, and not looking for charity."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Now, did you eat?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Ma fed me. She even packed up some stuff for my breakfast." He gave her a tiny nod, and led both his own horse and Stratton's horse and wagon away, leaving a trail of drips of dark blood in the dirt.

  "I'm not here for supper," Stratton snapped.

  "Oh, but you are," Dr. Thorne told him. "And, breakfast as well. We'll just have to wait and see about meals after that."

  "I can't—"

  "I'm afraid you not only can, but will," Victoria responded. "You are going to rest for a few minutes, while we set the table and make some tea. Then you are going to eat a hot meal and drink several cups of sweet tea, before you go upstairs and go to bed."

  "I can't stay here..."

  "But, you can," the doctor insisted. "Kit stays across the street with Miss Strong. And, I have a room at the hotel. There is a room upstairs that will give you some privacy and a more comfortable bed. The one in there," she said, pointing over her shoulder, "is a mere cot. And, much too small for a grown man, like yourself, to get a good night's rest on."

  "But—"

  "There will be no 'buts.' I'm going to risk a guess and say that your wagon was already hitched, wasn't it?"

  "Yes. How did you know?"

  "Because you would have lost quite a lot of blood just trying to either hitch a horse to your wagon, or mount a horse. And, from the amount of blood I just saw on the wagon, you are most fortunate."

  "How do you figure?" he said, nodding at his bandaged hand, as she adjusted his sling once again.

  "Because you lost a dangerous amount of blood. Another five minutes, very probably less, and you would have passed out and bled to death. Now, I know that it's against your better nature to listen to a woman—especially one who's telling you to stay here and in bed, but that is the reality of the situation."

  Then she shooed him towards the cot, while Meg went to the kitchen to gather utensils to set the table.

  *****

  Neil sat down on the edge of the bed and toed off his boots. He couldn't remember the last time he had such a good hot dinner. And, he'd forgotten what a nice alternative tea was to coffee—on occasion.

  Still, he didn't know what upset him more that he'd done such a foolish and possibly life-threatening thing, or been browbeaten into bed rest by a lady doctor.

  Although, as he climbed into bed, he had to admit she wasn't at all hard to look at.

  Neil bolted up and looked at his strange surroundings for several seconds, before he remembered where he was. He listened carefully, but there was only silence.

  He'd thought he'd heard a scream—one short, high-pitched cry. Or, had he? Perhaps, he dreamt it. Everything was quiet now.

  He dragged the rickety straight-back chair over to the window, and sat, shielded behind the muslin curtains, staring out at the dark, deserted streets. At least the saloon looked shut for the night—finally. It had taken him quite a while to get to sleep because of patrons' coming and going.

  And now, here he was sitting in the window, wide awake.

  Chapter Eight

  "Well," Dr. Thorne began, "you don't look as though you got much sleep last night. I was quite serious about you needing to rest and eat well for several days, at least. And, probably for much longer. You lost a lot of blood. Come on downstairs, I brought you a tray from the hotel restaurant. You need to eat it, before everything gets cold."

  "If I don't look as though I slept well, it's because I didn't. The saloon across the street is very noisy. I don't wonder you stay at the hotel." He followed her downstairs, sat down at the table, and looked around. When Kit was nowhere to be seen, he added, "If I were you, I wouldn't let the girl stay here."

  "She's staying with Eva, at Miss Strong's," she assured him. After she poured him a mug of coffee and herself a cup, she asked, "Why? Did you see something? Or, hear something?"

  He gulped down half his coffee before he answered, "That's just the problem. I don't know if I heard something, or merely dreamt it."

  Victoria stared at him, her cup halfway to her lips, and asked, "Well...what is it you thought you heard?" frustration in her voice.

  "I thought I heard a scream, but I can't be sure. I might just as easily dozed off and dreamt it."

  "A scream..." Dr. Thorne repeated.

  "Well, that might be an exaggeration. Perhaps, it would be better described as one short cry. That's why I'm afraid I might have only imagined it."

  He watched as a deep furrow appeared between her brows. She looked up, as if she was about to ask him something else, but went quiet.

  "Well, sit down and eat," the doctor said. "I wasn't exaggerating."

  "About what? Eating?" Neil asked, as he shoveled scrambled eggs into his mouth.

  "No, of course not," Victoria said. Then, in an exasperated tone, explained, "About how very lucky you were. First, your wagon was already hitched. Then, you thought quickly and wrapped your shirt around the wound, got onto the wagon, and came to town—holding your hand up, all the while.

  "And," she continued, "you made it to town and inside the surgery before you lost consciousness. If you had passed out on the way into town, you would absolutely have bled to death. As serious as the cut is, it didn't cut off your thumb. It didn't even cut through tendons and nerves, so you still have use of the digit."

  He looked up and said, "You're serious, aren't you?"

  Victoria let out a long sigh, before she smiled and said, "Oh good. We're making progress, at last." In a louder voice, added, "I'm also quite serious about you needing to eat good meals and get plenty of rest. And keeping those stitches pristine.

  "Because if you don't keep the hand scrupulously clean and in the sling, and eat good food and drink lots of water and milk, there's still a chance you could lose the use of the thumb. In fact, if the wound becomes infected, you could lose the thumb, or the hand, or even part of your arm."

  Neil Stratton just stared at Victoria. He hadn't realized how fortunate he had been with his injury. And, also in his doctor.

  "I see," he conceded. "I promise to go back up to bed after breakfast. Will that make you happier?" He smiled at her.

  "Yes, most definitely," Dr. Thorne told him.

  "Well, do you think you could find a book or two for me to read? I'm not used to having time on my hands. And I rarely have the time or energy to enjoy a book."

  "Of course, I'm sure I can find something for you to read," she answered, smiling back at him.

  *****

  Neil woke with a start. He found Dr. Thorne perched on the edge of the bed, taking his pulse with one hand, while she felt his forehead with the other. When he looked around, he saw a large stack of books piled just inside the bedroom door, as well as a tray with a sandwich and a glass of milk on the bedside table.

  She not only came upstairs, at least twice—from the size of the pile of books, probably more—but into the room, and he'd not heard anything. He wasn't used to sleep so soundly.

  Struggling to prop himself up on his good elbow, he asked, "Is something wrong? How long have I been asleep?"

  "Not that long," Victoria assured him. "I only just brought up your lunch. Although, I'm sure you must want to go use the necessary, before you eat."

  "No, I'll wait. Perhaps, I could take
a book downstairs to read? Is there a back porch where I can sit?"

  "As a matter of fact, there is a back porch with a couple of rocking chairs. And, I'm sure it will be more comfortable out there." She looked around, and added, "It is stuffy in here. But, I don't see how we could make it cooler."

  "It isn't too bad at night," Neil told her. "Well, at least the air and temperature. The street is noisy and annoying."

  "Yes," Victoria acknowledged with a sigh. "I was afraid it would be. Which is one of the reasons I decided to stay at the hotel. And, Kit will stay at Meg's—even after you've been allowed to leave here."

  Stratton swallowed the bite of sandwich he'd been chewing, and said, "I'm kind of surprised about that saloon. From most everything else I've seen in Manchester, I wouldn't think that the population would put up with it."

  "Well, from what I understand," Dr. Thorne told him, "it didn't used to be quite so...so overt...so obvious. Really, it's become even more than that. It's invasive. From what I've been told, it was originally fairly quiet and low key. It's only been since the previous owner died and the new owner took over that it's become so...raucous."

  "I see," Neil said, as he gulped down the last of his milk.

  "Yes," the doctor continued, "but I don't believe it will be so for very long. Meg's told me that Mr. Gunderson is already planning on taking it to the town council to begin debating about what can be done about it."

  "But why the debate? If it's an annoyance, shut it down."

  "Yes...but the saloon was here long before much of the town, or the town council, was. Now, if you're finished, I'll take your tray down. Why don't you pick out a book, and come down?"

  *****

  "You fell asleep, again," Dr. Thorne said, smiling over Neil. "I guess I need to find more interesting books."

  "No," he answered, holding up a ragged copy of A Tale of Two Cities. "I'm quite happy with this. I just can't believe I dozed off again."

  Victoria took the book and handed him a glass of milk. "It's because your body knows you need to rest to rebuild your strength. You also need to keep drinking." She sat in the chair beside him and drank a glass of water.