Mum and Dad might be ready for some help again. Her brothers and their capable wives certainly had things under control here.
More footsteps sounded on the porch, and in tromped Alex, her other brother, and Marcus, the preacher. The family was all here. Time to enjoy them while she could.
~ ~ ~
“THE CHICKEN WAS doing what?” Cathleen studied Bryan’s face, as a surge of concern swept through her. A glance at their middle sibling, Alex, showed that his face mirrored her own emotions. Why was an elderly woman living alone up in those rough mountains?
After a pleasant lunch, mothers and babes had all settled in for a nap, so Cathleen had a rare moment to enjoy just her two brothers. But the story Bryan shared was anything but enjoyable.
Bryan’s mouth pinched. “It pecked quite a hole in her hand. The skin was too thin for stitches. Bled like a head wound, though. That certainly wasn’t the worst of it. No telling how long she’d been out in the snow without shoes or a coat, nothing more than a thin cotton calico, as far as I could tell.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, leaving it standing in spikes.
“So what’d you do?”
“Shot the mountain lion first, then got her inside and doctored as best I could.” As Bryan told the tale of how he tried to convince the woman to come down the mountain with him, he put enough of a humorous spin to his efforts to bring on a chuckle from Alex. But Cathleen couldn’t push away the images her mind conjured of a frail old woman—like great-aunt Arlene had been—half frozen to death and bleeding, alone in a remote mountain cabin.
She gripped the arms of her chair and scooted to the edge. The urge to do something to help swelled inside her. “She doesn’t have any family left?”
Bryan’s mouth sobered, and worry lines took their usual place at the corners of his eyes. “We buried her husband two months ago. They have a son, but he’s some kind of wild, mountain man. O’Hennessy is the nearest neighbor, about an hour’s ride east, but he doesn’t know how to find the son. I’m hoping someone here in town does.”
An image of a wild-eyed man formed in her mind, full beard matching the fur hanging from his clothing. Maybe missing a tooth or two. Poor Mrs. Scott. Even if her son showed up, how could a man like that do anything to help her condition?
Bryan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied Alex. “Think there’s a nurse we can send up there in the next couple days?”
Alex frowned. “The nurses we’ve used before are all married women. Most with children. There’s no way they could leave town to go half a day’s ride into the mountains.” He squinted. “Maybe Mrs. Walker if she took her twins with her.”
Bryan shook his head. “I’d hate to see what those twins would do to this woman’s nerves. She didn’t know who I was most of the time. Thought I was her son, I think. And she didn’t seem to remember her husband had passed either.”
As Cathleen watched the volley between her brothers, an idea took shape in her mind. Leaving the poor woman up there alone even another day was unacceptable. She cleared her throat to get their attention. “I can care for her.”
Alex frowned. “You can’t stay alone in the mountains.”
She fought down a flare of frustration. “Of course, I can. And I wouldn’t be alone, I’d be helping Mrs. Scott. You were just talking about sending a woman up there with a pair of five-year-old twins. You think I’d be worse off than her?”
“Cathy, I don’t think you understand what the conditions are like in those mountain homesteads.” Alex set his coffee on the side table. “It’s primitive in the worst way. There’s danger from all kinds of wild animals. No stores to shop at like you’re accustomed to. You have to make do with the food and supplies on hand, or else make your own. And the creeks are probably frozen over, so who knows where she’s getting water from. Some of the mountain trails are impassible when it snows. What if you were stranded up there and needed help? It’s nothing like the life you were used to back home. Not even half as civilized as it is here in Butte.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. Alex had been smelling to much chloroform if he thought the words civilized and Butte should be used in the same sentence.
But she’d done just fine adjusting to life here in this rough, western mining town, where they didn’t have decent baking supplies and not enough of a fabric selection to clothe a pauper. And she’d do just as well in the mountains. She’d read books about primitive life. What she didn’t know, Mrs. Scott could probably remember. How hard could it be to clean a rooster for supper?
She turned to Bryan and gave him one of those looks he should remember well. The one that said she’d made up her mind but would give him a little bit of time to get used to the idea. “Think about it, Bryan. The woman’s obviously in a bad way. And your wife doesn’t need me so much around here anymore. I can ride up first thing tomorrow. Whenever her son can be found, he can take over. But until then, I’m needed. There’s no one else for the job.”
Bryan let out a longsuffering sigh. “Cathy, don’t be pigheaded about this.”
She leaned back in her chair. She was pretty sure she’d made her point, but if Bryan didn’t come around by dinnertime, he’d find out what pigheaded looked like. Somewhere, even now, a woman wandered around in the mountains—hurt, confused, and maybe even dying. That simply wouldn’t do.
Cathleen Donaghue didn’t turn her back on someone in need.
~ ~ ~
“SO I’LL LEAVE in the morning to go care for Mrs. Scott?” Cathleen set a plate of dried apple pie on the table in front of Bryan that evening, then another before Claire. They’d just finished dinner, and the darkness outside made Claire’s kitchen feel like a cozy haven. She loved the round dark wood table in the center of the room, large enough for several families to gather around.
But now it was just the three of them—four, if you counted little Amanda whom Claire nursed while they talked.
“What do you mean?” Claire looked up, her fork hovering over the pie crust.
Cathleen started to answer, but Bryan spoke first.
“Cathy, I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” Bryan looked like he might be considering whether physical restraint would be necessary. He’d obviously read her earlier determination. Perhaps he thought he might ship her back home to Boston, no matter if the river was frozen or not.
She plopped into her chair at the table and leaned forward. “You know this is the only way, Bryan. And besides, it actually makes sense. I’m not needed here anymore.” She motioned toward Claire and the baby. “Claire has everything under control. But Mrs. Scott is injured and alone. I’ll only stay there until her son comes to take over, then I’ll be right back here, safe and sound where you won’t have to worry about me.”
“I do still need you, Cathleen.” Claire’s voice held a hint of a motherly tone. “I don’t know what we would have done these past few months without you. There’s some days it seems Amanda thinks you’re her mother and I’m the auntie.”
Cathleen couldn’t help a smile at her sweet sister-in-law and the baby. Claire had such a charitable personality and had become a dear friend through these past months. Surely she could understand why she had to help Mrs. Scott.
She turned back to her over-protective brother. “Just let me try it, Bryan. If things don’t work out, I’ll come back to Butte straightaway.”
As he looked at her, his brown eyes turned liquid. Pleading. “Cathy, if I let you go up there and something happens, Dad would have me brought before the Inquisition. You know he sent you here into my care. They can’t handle losing another daughter.”
A stab of familiar pain tightened her chest. None of their family had been the same after her big sister, Britt, died at the tender age of eight. The last thing she wanted to do was bring that kind of grief on her parents. But this was entirely different. Britt had a lung condition from birth, and it had only been a matter of time until she succumbed. Cathleen was strong and capable, and a feeble old la
dy needed her somewhere in those mountains.
She gave Bryan her most earnest expression. “I’ll be careful. If there’s any hint of danger, I’ll come right back. Maybe I can even get Mrs. Scott to come with me.”
Releasing a long breath, he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “All right. But let the record state that I do not agree that this is a good idea.”
The relief that flowed through her left behind a solid sense of rightness as she squeezed her brother’s big, calloused hand. She was fulfilling her calling.
Lord, help me help Mrs. Scott.
Chapter Two
AS THEY RODE into the little mountain clearing, Cathleen took in the sight of the log cabin with smoke drifting up through a stovepipe in the roof. A porch spanned the front of the building, and an outhouse peeked out from behind. A low lean-to on the side of the house held a thin layer of firewood, but the covering hadn’t done much to protect the wood from the snow. Only the logs on one end had the white powder brushed from their surface.
Bryan reined his horse to a stop in front of the house, and her own mount followed suit. He dismounted, and Cathleen scanned the cabin again while she waited for his assistance. She’d only ridden side-saddle during all her years in Boston, but a few trips into the countryside around Butte had taught her how to ride astride. And the five hours they’d been on the trail this morning had certainly finished the job. Between the cold and the length of time in the same position, she couldn’t feel her feet. There was a good chance they might not support her weight once she asked it of them.
Bryan gripped her waist and lowered her to the ground, and she clutched the saddle as needles stabbed her ankles. A flicker in the window to the left of the door caught her attention, offering a welcome distraction from the prickles. The panes were covered with some kind of solid fabric, but a corner of the material had definitely moved.
“Let’s get inside.” She turned a smile on her brother as she loosened one hand from its death-grip on the saddle.
He tied both horses to the rail on the front porch. “We’ll see what we’re up against first. Then I’ll come back out and settle these two and get the supplies unloaded.”
They ascended the steps, and Bryan slid his coat hood from his head, then knocked on the door. Cathleen glanced behind her at the view from the porch. She caught her breath. Through a break in the trees, a distant mountain peak rose high above them, majestic with its snowy cap and regal bearing. “Look, Bryan.”
But before he could obey, the cabin door opened, letting out a rush of warm, stale air. Cathleen turned toward the opening and shared her brightest smile with the gray-haired woman who peered out.
“Mrs. Scott. It’s Doc Bryan from town. How are you today, ma’am?”
She squinted at them, still half-hiding behind the door frame. Only one hand showed, and from the lack of a scar, it must not be the injured one. “Oh. Just fine.” The hesitation in her voice sounded like she couldn’t quite place him, even though he’d just said his name and had visited only a couple days before.
“I’m glad to hear it. I’d like to introduce you to my sister, Miss Cathleen Donaghue.” Bryan touched her elbow, and Cathleen stepped forward.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Scott.”
The woman turned confused eyes on Cathleen but didn’t say anything.
Bryan cleared his throat. “Would you mind if we come in for a minute?”
Mrs. Scott turned her attention back to him slowly, as if she struggled to keep up with what was happening. “I suppose.” Shuffling backward, she pulled the door wide and hobbled toward the stove. “I’ll put some coffee on to warm you. Quinn should be back anytime now.”
Cathleen glanced at Bryan and mouthed the husband? Bryan had only referred to the man as Mr. Scott when he’d shared his knowledge of the family on their long ride up.
He nodded, mouth pinched. Looking up at the older woman, he raised his voice a bit louder than usual. “No need for coffee, ma’am. But I’d like to check your injuries from the other day. Can we sit here at the table?”
Cathleen reached to unfasten the buttons on her coat. Bryan had said not to trust anything the woman cooked, so that must be his way of skirting the topic. Hot coffee would be perfect right now, though.
She scanned the dark room around them. What she’d thought was a cloth curtain over the window now looked like some kind of animal skin. An elaborate beadwork design spanned the edges, and fringe hung from the bottom. Other skins lined the walls, some with the fur intact, others more like buckskin. A large fur hung over the fireplace, a striking brown and tan spotted pattern marking the hair. She’d seen the men in Butte wear buckskins on occasion, but never furs like these. And she’d never seen so many hides in one place.
Noises from the stove snagged her attention, and she glanced over as Mrs. Scott shifted pots around on its surface. There didn’t seem to be a reason behind her actions though. She just slid a pan here, then another where the first had been, finally sliding the first pot to a new burner.
A wash of sympathy slid through Cathleen, and she stopped unfastening her coat to step forward. “Here, Mrs. Scott. How about if I make coffee while you let the doctor check your bandage.” She slipped a hand around the woman’s thin shoulders. There was even less substance there than her brown wool dress made it appear.
The woman allowed Cathleen to guide her to a chair at the table, and Bryan settled into the one beside it. She raised the bandaged arm to the table’s surface. The cloth that had surely been white when Bryan put it on two days ago was now a speckled brown with splashes of darker colors that could have been blood—or some other substance Cathleen didn’t want to consider. The smells of human odors tinged the air around the older woman.
She turned to the stove as Bryan started his ministrations. Now for coffee. One of the pots did hold what looked to be water. The other two were empty. Should she trust the water here? She scanned the work counter, then peered into the dry sink. A bucket on the floor looked like it also held water, although the liquid there had bits of food particles floating in it. It was possible they were food, but she wasn’t about to chance it.
With a glance back at the pair, she picked up the bucket handle and squared her shoulders. “I’m going to get fresh water.”
Bryan peered so intently under Mrs. Scott’s bandage, he only murmured “All right” when she passed.
Cathleen pulled her coat tighter around herself as she stepped out the door into the whipping wind. She should have grabbed her gloves on the way out. Next time, she’d remember.
She scanned the yard for a well. A barn stood about thirty feet to the left, and beside it a shed of some kind. Maybe a chicken house, judging by the noises emanating from the wooden plank siding. She stepped down the porch stairs and patted their horses as she made her way around them. Another small building behind the house must be the outhouse. So where was the well?
Something Bryan had said flickered through her mind. Sometimes these mountain farms used streams instead of digging wells. It made sense if the ground underneath was mostly rock. She scanned the area again. No sign of a stream in the clearing. But there was a trail of footprints in the snow leading toward the trees on one side. She headed that direction.
~ ~ ~
IT WAS OVER an hour later by the time Cathleen had located an icy stream, steeped the coffee, and fixed a simple meal of boiled potatoes and some kind of jerked meat she found in the root cellar. She hadn’t taken time to unpack the supplies she and Bryan brought, but there was no doubt they’d come in handy later.
As they ate at the kitchen table, she and Bryan tried to draw Mrs. Scott into conversation. The woman downed the food like she hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks.
Which she probably hadn’t.
A fresh bandage wrapped her left hand, although the smell of human odor still clung to her. As soon as Bryan left, they’d be looking for a bath tub.
“The bandages weren’t on her feet anymore.” Bryan spoke
in a low, conversational tone. Cathleen still wasn’t sure whether Mrs. Scott had trouble hearing or just struggled to focus on the conversation. A glance at the woman showed her intent on gathering a soft potato onto her spoon.
She looked back at her brother as he continued. “But the right sole had blistered, so I rewrapped it. They seem to be giving her a bit of pain still. I hope that lessens in the next few days, but we’ll see.”
“What should I do to help?”
“Keep her warm. I wouldn’t make her walk too much, especially until that blister goes away. Propping her feet should help, and maybe soak them in warm water.” He shrugged. “That’s about all you can do. I’ll leave a stronger medicine to use if the pain gets bad, but I’d save it for a last resort. Willow bark would be easier on her system. You have a full kit of herbals in the supplies we brought.”
Cathleen nodded. In his apothecary shop, Dad had taught them all to use herbs whenever possible instead of the medical tonics. Too many questionable ingredients in the man-made stuff, and often the most plentiful was a substantial dose of alcohol.
Bryan turned to the older woman and raised his voice a bit. “Mrs. Scott, would it be all right if my sister stays with you for a while? She can help around the farm until you’re feeling better.”
The older woman looked up at Bryan, her eyes sharpening more than they had yet. Then she glanced at Cathleen and her expression softened. “I feel fine, but if she needs a place to stay, she’s welcome. Quinn and me always have a shelter ready for one o’ God’s lambs.”
Cathleen returned her smile. If she had to pretend to be a charity case for the woman to accept her, she could do that. “Thank you, ma’am.”
~ ~ ~
“I’M NOT SURE I should leave you here, Cathy.”
The Lady and the Mountain Call (Mountain Dreams Series Book 5) Page 2
