by Kit Morgan
“You don’t have to do that …”
“I want to. I don’t think this has anything to do with your mind, not the way you think it does.”
“What do you think it is?” he asked and rested one arm on the back of the bench.
“I’m not sure. All I know is that if you’re able to do arithmetic, you should also be able to read. True, you can’t, but it’s because you’re not seeing the letters as other people do. There has to be something that can be done.”
“Or maybe I just got the short end of the stick when I was born.”
She shook her head. “Please don’t berate yourself.”
He leaned against the bench and rested his other arm on the back. “I’m not, Miss Dodge. I’m just speaking the truth. I don’t understand the why or how of it. It’s just always been this way. My eyesight is fine, I talk fine, think fine. I just can’t read.”
“And your parents never took you to a doctor about it?”
He looked at his hand and picked at a fingernail. “Oh, they wanted to, but I left before they got the chance. Besides, a stage stop is a real isolated place – it would take days to get to a doctor, and no matter what people said about him, I don’t know if he could have helped me.”
“Was he a specialist?”
“No,” he said with a small chuckle. “More of a miracle worker, to hear folks tell it. But I was just tired of it all.”
“So you left.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I saw no reason to stay and keep putting my family through the humiliation. When you come from a family of folks that can read and love it, well, when you can’t you stand out like a black sheep.”
“I’m so sorry.” She put a hand on his leg, realized what she’d done and quickly pulled it away.
He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “Don’t be, ma’am. I’ve learned to deal with it.” He shook his head. “It’s other people that are really bothered – like Baxter.”
Hattie fought the urge to fan herself. For Heaven’s sake, why was she touching him? “But what if you didn’t have to deal with it?”
“Well, that’d be nice. But I’ve got more important stuff to worry about. Enough. Lesson’s over.” He stood. “I’ve said too much.”
She sighed in frustration. “No, you haven’t. You’ve explained a lot. I don’t know if the man your parents wanted you to see could have helped – maybe he was just some charlatan.” She stood as well. “But you do need to see someone who understands these things, medically.”
He snorted. “I don’t have time for searching all over creation for the right doctor – I’ve got a ranch to run.”
“I understand. What if I were to find someone?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Why would you?”
“I … I don’t know,” she stammered. “But I guaranteed that I could teach you, and if I can’t, then I want to find someone who can, or at least help you understand what’s happened to you.”
He looked at her and chuckled again. “You’re starting to remind me of a dog I had once.”
She looked at him, aghast. “I beg your pardon?”
He laughed. “Yeah, that pup would get something between her teeth and never let go, no matter how hard you tried to pull it away.” His eyes drifted to the gazebo. “I miss that dog.”
Her jaw dropped, but only for a second before she laughed. “I suppose I am like that. When I want to see something done, I see it through.” Unable to help herself, she drew closer. “And Mr. White, I’d like to see this done.”
“I haven’t time to go running off to some doc.”
“But if I do find someone and he thinks he can help, would you be willing to see him?”
“I just told you, I ain’t got the …”
“Then why would I do this?” she interrupted.
His hands went to his hips and she could tell he was flustered. “Miss Dodge, I don’t know why you’re doing it. You don’t know me. Why bother?”
A good question. She was getting more frustrated by the minute – truth be told, she wanted to smack him every time he said nothing could be done for him. Instead she exhaled and pondered his words. Why did she want to do this? Part of her own frustration was that he had a valid point. “It’s the right thing to do,” was the best she could come up with.
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I’m not paying you to do this. I’ll pay you for yesterday and today’s lessons.”
She stared at the ground, fighting despair – now she was out of a job. “Fine. But I would like to see you again.” She looked at him and ginned up a smile. “I’ll need more information to give to the doctor when I find one.”
He looked away, thinking. For whatever reason, she prayed he’d say yes. Maybe she needed something to believe in, even if that something didn’t belong to her. She certainly needed a purpose, and Mr. White would give her that, if only for a time.
“All right,” Mr. White finally conceded. “We’ll have a few more lessons, as you call them. And yeah, I’ll pay you for them.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Then you can take the information and do with it what you will.”
Hattie smiled. It was something, at least. “Thank you, Mr. White. I’ll do that.”
Chapter Six
“What do you mean you’re quitting?” Baxter asked.
Cooper balanced a board on his knee and nailed it into the fence post. “Like I said, she can’t help me, Bax. I told you she wouldn’t be able to.”
“But she guaranteed her work,” Baxter countered.
“She didn’t have the right to guarantee anything. She doesn’t know me.”
Baxter helped him pick up another board and held it as Cooper nailed it to the post. “She’s pretty.”
“Yeah, what of it?” Cooper pulled more nails out of his shirt pocket.
“You think she’s in the market for a husband?”
Cooper straightened up and looked at him. “If you’re so interested, why don’t you ask her?”
Baxter shrugged. “She’s your tutor, not mine. You’re the one spending all the time with her.”
Cooper rolled his eyes. “Is that why you offered to chaperone?” He hammered in a couple more nails. “I’m not spending much more time with her. She can’t do anything for me except …” He sighed and went back to nailing.
“Except what?”
“Except some fool idea she has about finding a doctor that can tell me what’s wrong.”
“Isn’t that worth something?” Baxter asked and reached for another board.
Cooper walked to the wagon and grabbed more nails from a bucket. “It’s not important anymore. It is what it is. Nothing she does is going to change it.”
“How do you know?” Baxter asked. “Maybe there’s a cure you’ve never heard of. Besides, don’t you at least want to know why you can’t read like everybody else?”
Cooper’s jaw went tight. Why couldn’t Baxter just drop it? “Does it really matter?” he snapped. “I get along fine. It’s not like I’m the only one out there that can’t read, now is it?”
“Whoa.” Baxter held up his hands. “I was only saying it might be nice to know. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
Cooper gazed at the setting sun and sighed. “I gave up being curious years ago. Now I just want to stop hearing about it. Thanks for helping me with the fence.”
Baxter nodded then waited for him to nail the board he held to the post. They were quiet for a while, for which Cooper was glad – he was done with the conversation. It was hard enough to talk about it with Miss Dodge. He’d told her too much about his past.
But maybe Baxter was right, sort of. Part of him didn’t want to know what was wrong. Had that been the real reason he left home? It was bad enough when guests belittled Pa over it, but maybe things would’ve been worse if a doctor diagnosed him as just plain stupid. Then his father might blame himself.
Baxter pulled him from his thoughts. “You hear Tobias Redfern got hitched?”
�
��Are you trying to make conversation?” Cooper asked. “Because we both know he got hitched weeks ago. Lucky him.”
Baxter sighed. “Yeah, and he didn’t even send for a mail-order bride like the rest of us. We get cheated and he gets a wife.”
Cooper tossed his hammer on the ground. “Baxter, you need to get past it. I know it was recent, but there will be other women.”
“Really?” Baxter made a show of looking around. “Because I don’t see any around. And I haven’t heard of any coming to town.”
“You don’t know anything,” Cooper groused. “Help me with a few more boards.”
Baxter wasn’t ready to drop it. “We could always send for more mail-order brides. Real ones this time.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no? Don’t you want to get married?”
Tempted as he was to drop the board in his hands on Baxter’s foot, he needed to finish this fence. “After that D’Arcy woman cheated us, I’m not keen on the idea. But don’t let me stop you.”
Baxter held the board as Cooper nailed it to the next post. “I wonder if Miss Dodge wants to get married?”
Pound, pound, pound. “Why don’t you ask her?” Pound, pound, pound.
“She’s a right pretty thing,” Baxter mused. “Educated, went to college …”
“Ow!”
“You okay?”
Cooper shook his hand, then sucked on his injured finger. He pulled it out of his mouth and shook it again. “Tarnation!”
“Best pay attention to what you’re doing,” Baxter suggested.
Cooper glared at him, then got back to work.
It didn’t take long to finish, and soon they headed back to Cooper’s small ranch house. “You adding on to your place soon?” Baxter asked.
“What for?”
Baxter shrugged, then turned on the wagon seat to look behind them. “Be nice to have some younguns to help you out with the work. I might not be around.”
Cooper groaned. “Stop. Just stop.”
Baxter grinned. “Stop what?”
“Look, I know what you’re doing. If you want to pursue Miss Dodge, go ahead. I don’t care.”
“You don’t?” Baxter asked, eyes bright.
Cooper was about to say, no I don’t, when something stopped him. He didn’t know what, he just couldn’t get the words out. Great Scott, did that mean he was interested? But how could that be? He’d sworn off women after Mrs. D’Arcy’s debacle.
“Well?” Baxter prompted.
Cooper rolled his eyes. “Do what you want,” finally came out, but left an odd feeling in his gut.
“Fine, I will,” Baxter said, still wearing that silly grin.
They reached the house and said their goodbyes. Cooper knew Baxter well enough to know he wanted to pursue Miss Dodge without any interference. After all, if she was tutoring him, he would be spending a lot of time with her, just as Baxter said. But that wouldn’t be the case for long. She’d be off looking for answers to his reading problem while he went on with his life. Let Baxter court her if he wanted – what did he care?
He shook off the strange feeling in his belly and went inside. He stared at the stove, then looked around his tiny abode. It was a man’s home, not a sign of a woman to be had. Good.
Cooper lit the stove, found a can of beans behind his salt and sugar jars and settled in for the evening.
“And you don’t know what it’s called or what sort of treatment there is?” Hattie asked Dr. Thomas. He was a handsome man with dark blue eyes, blonde hair and an upper lip that gave him a permanent half-smile.
The doctor folded his hands on his desk. “I don’t know anyone with that sort of ailment, Miss Dodge, nor have I treated anyone with it. You’re sure his eyesight is okay?”
“Yes, it seems fine,” she said. “He can do arithmetic and seems perfectly normal. He just can’t read.”
The doctor leaned back in his chair. “I could wire a colleague of mine in New York City. If anyone would know about this sort of thing, he would. We small-town docs aren’t as well equipped to deal with special cases like this. We don’t have access to the medical libraries of universities and other learning institutions. But he does – he teaches at P&S, in fact.”
Hattie knew Columbia University’s College of Physicians and Surgeons – P&S, as it was called – was nationally renowned. “And he won’t mind?” she asked, her heart thundering in her chest. Finally, some hope.
“I’m sure he’d be happy to look into it for me. But I can’t guarantee when he’ll answer. He’s a busy man – aside from teaching, he’s got a healthy practice.”
“That’s fine. Any help he can give would be appreciated.”
“I’m happy to assist,” he said with a smile. “But tell me, why are you trying to find this information for Mr. White? Couldn’t he do this on his own?”
“He could, but he won’t.”
“Proud, is he?”
“Worse.” She stood. “Despairing. He’s given up.”
Dr. Thomas slowly stood, nodding in understanding. “I see. I’ll wire my friend first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you, Doctor, very much.”
“He does know you’re doing this, doesn’t he?” Dr. Thomas asked.
“Yes.” She turned toward the door. “Though he doesn’t think I’ll find anything. But I believe he should at least know what’s wrong with him, especially if there’s any sort of treatment for it.”
“You’re quite right. I would want to know if it were me. I am curious, though – why has he given up?”
Her shoulders slumped. “He told me a little, but it’s not my place to say. Thank you again for your help.” She turned and left, breathing a sigh of relief once she was outside. Now she had to concentrate on finding a job. She had a few more lessons with Mr. White, but if he wasn’t going to pay her, she had to do something else.
Unfortunately, much of what she was qualified for meant dealing with the public, which would leave her exposed. She didn’t want that – she’d prefer working in a private house and staying out of sight. Maybe she could put an ad in the paper? She looked up the street. Isla, one of the women working at Hearth and Home, had a sister who ran the local paper with her husband. She could place a “situations wanted” ad for someone needing a tutor or governess or nurse – she could do any of those.
But perhaps she should wait, see how things transpired with Cooper … er, Mr. White. She shook herself – she shouldn’t be thinking of him by his first name. Though considering what she was doing for him, didn’t she have the right? Hers were the actions of a friend, not a stranger. Would he mind?
Hattie headed down the boardwalk, and remembered Millie and Isla talking about the local dry goods store at breakfast. Perhaps she should have a look? She’d been thinking so much about Cooper that she’d neglected to pick up any necessities.
She found Crowther’s Dry Goods at the end of the street and went inside. It wasn’t as grand as the stores back in Boston, but it would carry what she needed. She selected soap, shampoo, a few hair ribbons and a dime novel, took them to the counter and waited for the shopkeeper to total everything. After she paid, she headed back to Hearth and Home, ate an early dinner and retired to her room to think.
When she sat on the bed she had to laugh. Think about what? Asking herself once again why she was doing what she was doing? Couldn’t she find purpose working in a dressmaker shop? She was a fair hand with a needle and thread. No, dressmaker shops were public – anyone could see her and ask questions …
“Bart Sullivan, why did you have to ruin my life?” Not that Bart meant to – she was just part of a business deal, a sad state of affairs rampant among the rich. Though arranged marriages weren’t as prevalent as they used to be, it was still a bother when she was the one being arranged.
She liked Bart – when he was on the other side of town and not in her parlor. Her father liked him because he kept his money in Father’s bank. Her mother liked him because a
ssociation with him made her look good and he complemented her cook’s culinary skills. Hattie had liked him, until she got to know him and found he just considered her another asset to add.
“I’m in Creede, yet I’m still running,” she concluded aloud. Was that the reason she wanted to help Cooper so much?
Hattie stood and picked up the dime novel she’d purchased: A Pirate’s Peril by C.I. Sayer. “This doesn’t look bad.” So long as it makes me forget what I’m doing for a while, she added silently. She went to the bed, fluffed up the pillows and settled down to read. Tomorrow she’d face the frustration of dealing with her so-called student – and the fear that there wasn’t a thing she could do to help him.
“I’m in a pickle, Bob, a real pickle,” Albert said.
Bob cocked his head to the side and peered at him.
“Don’t look at me like that. You know I’m doing my best. Not easy when I’m not allowed to speak …”
Cluck.
“How can you say everything’s going to be all right? You were at Tobias’s first poetry meeting. You said yourself Cooper White was downright hostile.”
Cluck!
“Sorry, didn’t mean to put words in your mouth. But he made it obvious he didn’t want to be there. At least Baxter got him to the last meeting – otherwise how would Cooper and Hattie meet?”
Bob cocked his head the other way.
“Yes, I suppose I’d have thought of something. But the man hardly comes to town – the poetry meeting was my best shot.”
Cluck?
“Yes, yes, I made sure he got the note when we were at his place. You mean to tell me you didn’t see me drop it?”
Bob ruffled his wings.
“And you didn’t have to peck me the way you did. I’d have dropped it eventually!” Albert sighed. “The note was a good idea, by the way. Pity he can’t read it.”
Cluuuuck.
“I know what the plan is,” Albert said dryly, drumming his fingers on the fallen log that was their usual meeting place. “And I still have a lot of work to do, so I’d best get on. It’s just that …”
