by Al Lacy
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
BELOVED PHYSICIAN
published by Multnomah Books
A division of Random House, Inc.
© 2004 by ALJO PRODUCTIONS, INC.
International Standard Book Number: 1-59052-313-X
Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture quotations are from:
The Holy Bible, King James Version
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Lacy, Al.
Beloved physician / by Al and JoAnna Lacy.
p. cm. — (Frontier doctor trilogy; bk. 2)
ISBN 1-59052-313-X (pbk.)
eBook ISBN: 978-0-307-56397-2
1. Denver (Colo.)—Fiction. 2. Married people—Fiction. 3. Physicians—Fiction. 4. Nurses—Fiction. I. Lacy, JoAnna. II. Title.
PS3562.A256B46 2004
813’.54—dc22
2003022088
v3.1
We wish to dedicate this book to our good friend
and family physician, Dr. Terry Wade.
We also wish to express our heartfelt appreciation for the expert
medical advice he furnished for this book.
He is indeed our own beloved physician.
3 John 2
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
PROLOGUE
When the challenge of the Western frontier began luring men and women westward from the eastern, northern, southern, and midwestern states in the middle of the nineteenth century, they found a land that was beyond what they had imagined. From the wide Missouri River to the white-foamed shore of the Pacific Ocean, wherever they settled, they clung to the hope of a bright new beginning for their lives.
Often their hopes were dashed by fierce opposition from the Indians who had inhabited the land long before them. At times there was also struggle for survival against the hard winters and the loneliness of the vast frontier.
Those determined pioneers who braved the elements, the loneliness, and the attacks of the Indians, proved themselves to be a hardy lot and were unknowingly entering upon a struggle that would ultimately give their descendants control of half a continent.
In his book The Winning of the West, Theodore Roosevelt said, “The borderers who thronged across the mountains, the restless hunters, the hard, dogged frontier ranchers and farmers, were led by no one commander. They were not carrying out the plans of any far-sighted leader. In obedience to the instincts working half-blindly within their hearts, they made in the wilderness homes for their children.”
These commendable accomplishments, however, were not without tremendous cost of life. Of all the perils confronting the settlers of the Wild West, serious illness, injuries from mishaps of countless number, and wounds from battles with Indians and outlaws were the most dreaded. The lack of proper medical care resulted in thousands of deaths.
The scarcity of medical doctors on the Frontier in those early years made life extremely difficult and sometimes unbearable. As towns were being established in the West, little by little, medical practitioners east of the wide Missouri caught the challenge of the Frontier and headed that direction.
Communities that grew around army posts and forts had the military doctors to care for them. But many towns had no doctors at all. However, as time passed, this improved. By the mid-1870s, towns of any size at all had at least one doctor. The larger towns had clinics, and a few even had hospitals.
Often the frontier doctor had to travel long distances at any hour—by day or night—in all kinds of weather. Time and again the doctors own life was in jeopardy. He might ride on horseback or drive his buggy thirty miles or more to a distant home in the mountains, to a home in a small settlement on the prairie, or to a ranch or farm where he would care for a patient. He would perform surgery when needed, set broken bones, deliver a baby, or administer necessary medicines. Most of the time, he would sit with his patient for hours before leaving his or her side, then sleep on the return trip while his horse found the way home.
Quite often the frontier doctor’s only remuneration consisted of fresh vegetables from a garden, maybe a jar or two of canned corn or beans, a plucked chicken, or a chunk of beef cut from a recently slaughtered steer. The successful frontier doctor was not only a hardy man, but was obviously dedicated to his profession.
In our third book of the Orphan Trains Trilogy, Whispers in the Wind, we introduced teenagers Dane Weston and Tharyn Myers, who were orphans living on the streets of New York City in the spring of 1871. After a period of separation, Dane and Tharyn eventually find each other again and decide to marry, and the story of the extraordinary events leading up to their wedding is told in One More Sunrise, book one of the Frontier Doctor trilogy.
“Luke, the beloved physician, and Demas, greet you.”
Colossians 4:14
ONE
In Denver, Colorado, the sun shone down from a crystal blue sky on Saturday, June 25, 1881. It was two o’clock in the afternoon.
To the west stood the magnificent Rocky Mountains with their snowcapped peaks and the restful green of pine and fir trees amid the cool gray of their stony crags. These mountain features seemed distant, yet were companionably close.
Puffy white clouds drifted on the summer breeze, and birds chirped in the branches of the tall cottonwoods and evergreens outside the white frame church building.
Inside, the pump organ was playing softly in accompaniment to Dottie Carroll as she sang a special wedding song. Dottie was the wife of Dr. Matthew Carroll, chief administrator of Denver’s Mile High Hospital, and sister to Breanna Brockman, a longtime nurse at the hospital and wife of the best man.
Pastor Nathan Blandford stood on the platform, Bible in hand, and smiled at the happy faces in the packed sanctuary. He then looked down at Dr. Dane Logan, who stood on the floor to his left, sided by his best man, Chief United States Marshal John Brockman.
The pastor saw the nervousness in Dane Logan that grooms always experienced when the bridal procession was about to appear.
Dane’s heart was pounding in his chest as he fixed his gaze on those closed doors, and suddenly his mind flashed back just thirty-six days, to S
aturday, May 21, when he stood on that very spot, expecting to see the bridal procession come through the doors any second.
His mouth went dry as he envisioned that awful moment when suddenly Tharyn’s father, David Tabor, burst through the doors and ran into the auditorium, announcing that Tharyn had been abducted by four outlaws who left the message behind that they were going to kill her. Dane thought of how Tharyn had escaped the outlaws’ hideout by the hand of God, and recalled the sweet reunion with her in Denver.
Suddenly, Dane was brought back to the present as the organist began playing the wedding march. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and focused once again on the doors at the rear of the auditorium, just as they were coming open.
He watched, a slight smile on his handsome face, as the wedding party wended its way forward, and told himself one would hardly guess that the first bridesmaid, Leanne Ross, was blind. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead and her hand was placed in the crook of the groomsman’s arm. Her serene face was a joy to behold. The groomsman was Kenny Ross, her adoptive brother. They had both been adopted by the Ross family in Denver, who had also adopted other handicapped children. Kenny limped slightly on his wooden leg, but carefully guided his sister slowly down the aisle.
Leanne’s dress was powder blue organza that dipped and swayed with each step. It had a square neck, trimmed with a satin ribbon that was a shade darker than the dress.
A few steps behind Leanne and Kenny were the second bridesmaid, Melinda Scott Kenyon, and her fiancé and second groomsman, Dr. Tim Braden. Melinda’s dress was a copy of Leanne’s, and a smile of delight was on the lips of both young women.
Standing close to the groom, the tall, dark John Brockman uttered a small gasp when his wife stepped through the doorway a few steps behind Tim and Melinda. She was even more beautiful than the day he had married her in that same church building ten years ago.
Breanna Brockman was Tharyn’s matron of honor. Her organza dress was a light periwinkle blue with satin trim a shade darker around the neckline. Her blond hair was a shining halo on top of her head, and Johns heart skipped a beat as he watched her move down the aisle, smiling at him.
Walking very carefully several steps behind Breanna were her two children. Eight-year-old Paul gingerly held a white satin pillow with the brides ring tied securely to it with blue ribbons. He had been tutored many times over about his duty as ring bearer. His six-year-old sister, Ginny, walked at his side, strewing pink rose petals down the aisle.
Ginny was a small version of her lovely mother, both in looks and the dress she was wearing. When Breanna drew up to her place before the altar, she turned and looked at Paul and Ginny. She and John both smiled as they observed their precious children. A small sigh escaped Breanna’s lips when both children reached the front without any mishaps.
When each person in the procession was in place, the organist raised the volume to announce the presence of the bride.
In the second row of pews, Kitty Tabor rose from her seat and looked back up the aisle. The crowd followed.
Tharyn and her father moved into the doorway, silhouetted against the bright sunlight that flowed through the vestibule windows.
In the brides left hand was a bouquet of spring cut flowers. She held onto her fathers arm with the other hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. David Tabor looked at his beloved daughter, bent down, and placed a soft kiss on her cheek through her veil. “I love you, sweetheart. Thank you for coming into our home. From the moment we chose you off that orphan train, you have always been a source of joy to your mother and me.”
Tharyn’s eyes brimmed with tears. She smiled. “I love you too, Papa. You and Mama have given me such a special life. I will never forget what the two of you have done for me.”
Father and daughter turned with nervous smiles gracing their faces and began their slow walk down the aisle.
Standing at the foot of the platform, Dane Logan was struck anew with Tharyn’s beauty: both her outward physical beauty and, even more important, her inward spiritual beauty.
Tharyn was radiant in her white gown of organza over taffeta. A wide band of lace cupped her chin and edged the long, elegant sleeves. Her delicate veil of the same exquisite lace fell gracefully over her shoulders and down her slender back, ending in a small train.
Kitty was blinking at her tears and it was quite evident that her husband was also having a difficult time with his emotions.
With the sound of the organ filling the auditorium, Tharyn looked down the aisle and riveted her gaze on the young man she had loved for so long.
Dane’s heart was pounding when his eyes met Tharyn’s. He had come so close to losing his bride in the hands of the outlaws on what was supposed to be their wedding day, but this time nothing would prevent the marriage from taking place.
As Tharyn and her father drew closer, Dane breathed a prayer of thanks to the Lord for protecting her and delivering her from the outlaws.
When the bride and her father drew up, the organ stopped.
Pastor Nathan Blandford smiled down at father and daughter. “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
David’s throat was a bit constricted with emotion, but he managed to say, “Her mother and I.”
Tharyn lifted the veil with her free hand and planted a tender kiss on his cheek.
David then placed Tharyn’s hand in that of the groom. He gave a loving look to both of them, turned, and made his way toward Kitty.
Dane squeezed his bride’s hand, let go of it, and offered her his arm. As they moved toward the platform steps, they smiled at each other, each knowing the other’s thoughts: At last, we are about to become husband and wife!
TWO
At the reception in the church’s fellowship hall, the bride and groom cut their wedding cake in front of the smiling crowd, fed each other a piece; then the guests began filing by slowly.
First in line were the groom’s parents from Cheyenne, Dr. and Mrs. Jacob Logan, who exchanged hugs and kisses with Dane and Tharyn.
The well wishers took their time, speaking to the bride and groom as they came by.
Dane and Tharyn were pleased to see Pastor Mark Shane and his wife, Peggy. Shane pastored the church in Central City. He and Peggy knew that Dr. Dane and Tharyn would be transferring their membership to their church as soon as they returned from their honeymoon in Colorado Springs.
When everyone else had passed by, elderly Dr. Robert Fraser stepped up, his wife Esther at his side. With them was Nadine Wahl, the widow who had worked for Dr. Fraser for many years as his nurse and receptionist.
Nadine talked to them about her retirement when Tharyn would take over in her place after the Logans returned to Central City. Both Dr. Fraser and Nadine assured the newlyweds that they would fill in for them when they were needed, just as Dr. Fraser had done for Dr. Dane since he took over the practice.
The Frasers and Nadine also talked to the newlyweds about the house Dr. Dane had bought in Central City prior to the first wedding attempt, without Tharyn knowing it. They discussed how even though Dr. Dane wanted to surprise her, after her abduction and return to Denver, he felt he should tell her about it.
When Tharyn heard about the house, she immediately wanted to see it, so Dane took her to Central City and showed it to her, as well as introduced her to the Frasers and Nadine.
Soon the newlyweds changed clothes in separate Sunday school rooms, then in a hail of rice drove away in Dane’s buggy—which had been all fixed up by some of the people with bright-colored paper streamers and a sign on the rear that said JUST MARRIED—and headed for the railroad station.
On Thursday, June 30, Dr. Dane Logan and his bride rode to Denver from Colorado Springs by train, then hopped in his buggy at the stable where horse and vehicle had been kept and headed west toward Central City.
As the buggy bounced along the road that climbed into higher country, Tharyn held onto her husband’s arm and thought about her beautiful house
in Central City. Suddenly time rolled back in her mind, and she was reliving that day she first saw the house …
When Dane turned off Main onto Spruce Street, she glanced at the sign and said, “Is this the street the house is on, or will we turn onto another one?”
Dane smiled at her. “This is the street, sweetheart. When we become husband and wife, well be living at 212 Spruce Street.”
Tharyn watched the numbers on the houses, and when she spotted 212 up ahead, her heart picked up pace. When he pulled the buggy to a halt in the driveway, she sat speechless, just staring at the awesome house.
Seeing her eyes open wide but not hearing a comment, Dane was afraid he had made the wrong choice. Dropping the reins, he looked at her questioningly. “Wh-what’s the matter, honey? Don’t you like the house?”
His bride-to-be turned to him with tears in her eyes.
Dane swallowed hard. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Oh, darling, there’s nothing wrong! I—I’m just in awe of it! What a beautiful house you have provided for us! I never dreamed it was anything like this!” She sniffed and shook her head. “See these? These are happy, happy tears!”
Dane let out a big sigh of relief. “Boy, you had me worried, little lady. I sure didn’t want to do anything to disappoint you!”
Tharyn cupped his face in her hands and kissed him soundly. “You, my dear, are wonderful! I already love this house. Take me inside. I want to see it.”
When Dane lifted his bride-to-be out of the buggy, she stood gazing at the house, memorizing each detail. “It isn’t very old, is it?”
“No. Just five years old. As you can see, the people who owned it previously took very good care of it.”
“That’s for sure,” she said, still running her gaze from side to side and top to bottom.
The frame house was painted a soft gray with brilliant white trim. The many mullioned windows sparkled in the late spring sunshine.
