Beloved Physician

by Al Lacy

  Hattie stopped at the bottom of the steps, her eyes following her daughter.

  As Melinda approached the gelding, he began to whinny excitedly and toss his head. Melinda looked at her mother and smiled. “See? He’s been waiting with great anticipation. I sure wouldn’t want him disappointed.”

  Hattie laughed. “That’s for sure, honey.”

  Melinda stepped up to Abe, stroked his long neck. “Good morning, boy. You ready for our ride?”

  Again, Abe tossed his head and whinnied.

  Melinda tucked her slicker under the back side of the saddle and mounted up.

  Hattie looked up at the dark sky, then at her daughter. “Hurry, honey. And please do as you told your daddy. Just ride to the river and back.”

  The pretty blonde smiled. “I won’t do any more than that, Mama.” With that, she put Abe to a gallop and rode in the direction of the South Platte River.

  Hattie watched her go, and Melinda was no more than a half-mile away when Hattie felt small drops of rain hit her face. She turned and moved up onto the porch where she was sheltered from the fine mist of rain, but did not take her eyes off Melinda and Abe.

  Hattie bit her lower lip, willing Melinda to turn around and head for home and refuge from the storm that was about to break.

  She watched until horse and rider vanished from sight. Her voice quivered as she said, “Hurry, honey. I don’t want you out there in a bad storm.”

  Hattie waited a few more seconds in the wind and the cool air, then turned and reluctantly entered the house with a prayer on her lips for the safety of her only child.

  When she stepped inside and closed the door, a slight chill slithered down her spine and a deep sense of foreboding filled her heart.

  NINETEEN

  Melinda Scott Kenyon wiped tiny raindrops from her face as the wind lifted her bonnet, making it flap on her head.

  Feeling the thrill of riding, Melinda smiled as she looked up at the swirling, dark clouds. “We’ll be back before it gets bad, Abe! Hah-h-h-h! Faster, boy! Faster!”

  Cattle in the fields lifted their heads and stared at the galloping bay gelding as he raced past them in the direction of the South Platte River with Melinda bent forward on his back. Exhilarated with the wind and the rain in her face and the feel of the big muscular body beneath her, Melinda kept Abe at a full gallop.

  Within a few minutes, she blinked against the rain in her eyes and saw the South Platte ahead and the trees on the other side bending with the wind.

  Across the river, Chief Tando and his twenty mounted warriors had just crossed through the swift four- to five-foot depth of the South Platte on their way back home.

  They were now stopped for a moment some fifty or sixty feet from the riverbank in the dark timber, and under Chief Tando’s directions, had formed a circle with their horses. They were deep enough in the shadows to be out of Melinda’s view as she galloped their direction.

  There was a white flash of lightning farther toward the mountains and the clap of thunder.

  Tando looked at the subchief next to him. “All right, Nandano, what is it that you wanted to say to us?”

  Nandano’s dark features were streaked with rain. “I want to speak to you first, Chief Tando.”

  “Yes?”

  “I want to tell you that I am in full agreement with your words to Red Arrow. We must make the whites pay for stealing our land!”

  A thin, ominous smile crept onto Tando’s lips.

  Nandano ran his gaze over the faces of the warriors in the circle. He raised his rifle over his head. “To you, my brothers, I say we must shed white men’s blood! Kill! Kill! Kill!”

  Lightning flashed overhead and thunder rolled as the other nineteen warriors raised their rifles and shouted their agreement, loudly chorusing the word “Kill!”

  Tando’s smile broadened at the strong show of agreement from those particular warriors. He knew the adamant attitude they displayed regarding their war against the whites would fire up the greater amount of his warriors, who were back at the village. They must continue their war against the white intruders.

  Just as the chorusing of the warriors faded away, Latawga, who was facing the river, noticed a horse galloping their direction in the open field just beyond it, carrying a rider with a bright yellow bonnet and hair of about the same color.

  Melinda tugged back on the rein as Abe drew near the river on the ground already made muddy by the falling rain. She had not allowed for the condition of the ground beneath the horse’s hooves, and realized they were drawing up on the bank of the river much too fast.

  She leaned back in the saddle, pushed her feet hard into the stirrups, and yanked back on the rein. “Whoa! Whoa!”

  Abe stiffened his forelegs at her command, but found himself sliding swiftly as he skidded toward the edge of the steep path that rose from the riverbank.

  Melinda was anxiously trying to turn him parallel with the river just as a bolt of lightning lashed out of the sky directly overhead with a loud cracking sound.

  Frightened by the sudden noise, Abe jumped, whinnied, and helplessly slid closer to the edge of the steep path that led between the grasses down to the swift current of the river.

  At the same instant, Melinda saw that she must get out of the saddle before Abe plunged down the path. Suddenly there was a tension pounding behind her temples. Desperation seized her. She slipped her feet from the stirrups, ready to slide out of the saddle to the ground, when Abe’s forelegs buckled and he hit the ground on his knees with bone-shuddering force, coming to a sudden stop at the very edge of the path.

  Melinda sailed off his back. Her bonnet came loose and was carried by the wind into some tall grass right next to the path. She splashed into the swift, churning current of the river.

  The bay gelding whinnied in pain, rose up on his legs, and wheeled about. The slicker that had been tucked underneath the back part of the saddle fell to the ground.

  Abe limped on his right foreleg, moving slowly in a circle. When he looked down at the river, he saw no sign of Melinda, for at the moment, she was holding her breath and struggling beneath the surface, trying to lift her head above the water.

  The horse looked to the right, and to the left, then back to the river. His mistress was nowhere to be seen, so he turned around and began limping in the direction of home.

  In the churning water, Melinda was being carried downstream.

  Finally, after struggling for what seemed an eternity, she was able to lift her face out of the water and take a deep breath. With her heart thudding wildly in her chest, she gasped as she splashed about, trying to paddle her way toward the bank. But the swift-moving water was too strong, and it carried her farther out toward the middle of the river.

  On the other side of the river, Latawga, his father, and the other warriors were all on their horses at the edge of the west bank, watching the young white woman being carried helplessly downstream. She kept plunging beneath the surface, then splashing desperately up.

  One of the warriors said, “White woman will be drained of strength soon and drown.”

  “She is getting what she deserves for being on Indian land like all other white invaders.”

  “Good,” Nandano said. “She drowns, and we have one less white person to antagonize us.”

  Others were speaking their agreement when Latawga turned and looked at his father. “It is not the white women who shoot at us with repeater rifles and Gatling guns, Father. It is the white men. Should we let her drown?”

  This caught the attention of the other warriors.

  Chief Tando said, “We have been needing another white slave girl to take Joyces place as servant to your mother and the other squaws, my son.”

  Latwaga’s eyes lit up. “Does my father want me to dive in and save the white girl’s life?”

  Tando motioned toward the struggling figure in the river. “Go, Latawga!”

  As Latawga slid off his horse’s back, the warriors exchanged glances. L
atawga’s desire to save the girl from drowning had been a weight on their minds. The chief’s reason for saving the young white woman’s life made them feel better.

  The chief and his warriors watched as Latawga ran as fast as he could along the riverbank, stumbling at times on the rocks that lined the bank. When he had passed the white girl by several yards, he dived in.

  The swift current battled Latawga as if to keep him from reaching the girl. But he battled back fiercely, swimming for all he was worth. Just ahead, there were large rocks sticking up out of the water in the middle of the stream. The current struck the rocks with a drenching spray.

  Latawga knew he must reach the girl before the rapid stream would slam her into the rocks.

  Chief Tando and his warriors watched the scene downstream as Latawga swam even harder to reach the girl. He was getting close when they saw her finally run out of strength and lose her battle with the river. She flung her arms in desperation, then sank limply beneath the surface.

  The Indians saw Latawga plunge beneath the surface and come up quickly with the girl in his arms.

  Holding her head out of the water with one arm, he paddled vigorously toward the west bank with the other.

  Tando put his horse to a trot, hurrying to meet his son on the bank. The others followed, with one of them leading Latawga’s horse.

  Lightning lashed out of the dark sky in a jagged bolt of fire, and seconds later, thunder rocked the air with its loud, explosive roar.

  Tando and his warriors reached the spot on the bank where Latawga was headed just seconds before he reached the shoreline. Nandano and another warrior slid off their horses, and were there, waiting for Latawga as he came closer to the bank. They stepped into the river and took hold of him to help him out of the water with the weight of the unconscious girl in his arms.

  Just as they laid her down on the bank to try to revive her, the falling rain became a heavy downpour.

  By this time, all the Indians were off their horses, and Tando moved up and stood over Latawga and the other two, who were bent over the girl.

  Nandano pumped on Melinda’s chest with the heels of his hands, driving water from her lungs while the rain splashed in her face. Latawga and the other warrior watched closely for some sign of life. Concerned that it might be too late to revive her, Tando kept his gaze riveted on her. After about two minutes, Melinda began rolling her head back and forth while coughing and gasping as Nandano continued pumping.

  Tando’s taut features relaxed.

  Nandano removed his hands when Melinda opened her eyes, blinking against the hard rain. When she focused on the dark, copper-skinned men around her in the downpour, a look of horror etched itself on her face. Shock registered clear to the marrow of her bones, and terror riffled through her. A strangled moan escaped her lips as if someone was choking her from the inside. Her breath was coming fast now, irregular, rasping.

  Her face was a mask of anguish, and her mouth shaped into the open curl of a sounded cry, but nothing came out. Eyes wild, she threw her head back and forth and finally let out a wild scream. She was making an attempt to scramble to her feet, when Tando knelt down beside her, laid a hand on her shoulder, and prevented her from getting up. She looked at him with fearful eyes and let out one scream after another.

  When she ran out of breath and the screaming stopped, Tando said, “Listen to me, young woman.”

  Melinda blinked, and feeling weak from all the exertion she had made in the river, she relaxed.

  Tando patted her shoulder. “I am Chief Tando of the Ute tribe. We are not going to harm you. It was my son, Latawga, who dived into the river and pulled you out.”

  She worked her lips, trying to form words, and finally was able to say, “Chief Tando?”

  “Yes.”

  Melinda had heard of Chief Tando, that he and his people were renegade Utes, and that they continued to prey on white people and kill them in spite of Chief Ouray’s pleas to the contrary.

  Horror came over her afresh, but she had no strength to resist him.

  Tando patted her shoulder again. “We will take you to our village.”

  With that, he slid his arms beneath her, hoisted her into a cradled position, then stood up. A feeling of panic ran through Melinda.

  The chief spoke to the others. “Mount up. Even though it is raining hard, we must go home.” He carried Melinda to his horse, hoisted her up on the animal’s back, then swung up behind her.

  Melinda prayed as she rode with the chief on his horse. O dear Lord, I beg of You! Please deliver me from the hands of these Indians. I don’t believe they will not harm me, in spite of what Tando says. They hate white people. Why wouldn’t they harm me? Or even kill me?

  The thought of her plight tightened her nerves and sent her heart pounding.

  There was no conversation between Chief Tando and Melinda as they rode west and climbed into the towering Rocky Mountains beneath the dark sky with the wind slapping against them. They, as well as the twenty warriors, bowed their heads against the drive of the rain.

  Melinda noticed a herd of deer dash across the path in front of them some fifty yards away. They quickly disappeared in the dense forest that led up to higher ground.

  For the next hour the trail grew steeper and the rain whirled down from the clouds overhead. Then it began to dissipate, and after another twenty minutes, the rain stopped completely. The clouds were breaking up and soon the sun was shining down from a clear blue sky.

  Nandano rode on one side of the chief and Latawga rode on the other side. Latawga ventured a glance at the blond white woman sitting in front of his father and saw a strained, somber expression. He started to say something that might ease her fear, but decided to remain silent.

  For Melinda, the time seemed to drag by, but finally, as they reached the village, the sun had set and only its glow from the western sky showed Melinda the long rows of tepees. Many cook fires were in front of them, with wisps of smoke lifting skyward. There was a gathering group of Indians who were looking at her with curiosity written on their faces.

  Melinda looked them over with a candid eye. There were many young men, whom she decided were more of Tando’s warriors. There were also a good number of young women, whom she thought might be the squaws of the warriors. Some of them carried papooses on their backs and in their arms. She also saw several children that she guessed ran from two and three years old up into their teens. There were many men and women in middle age and a good number were silver-haired, deeply wrinkled, and moved with a shuffling walk.

  Tando rode his horse up to his tepee, where Leela stood, looking questioningly at the blond white woman sitting in front of her husband. Two older squaws stood beside her.

  The other warriors drew their horses to a halt just behind the chief. Latawga dismounted, glanced at his puzzled mother, and stepped up beside his fathers horse. He looked up at the young white woman, whose eyes were wide with fear in the ashen pallor of her skin.

  Raising his hands toward her, Latawga said, “I do not know your name. What is your name?”

  Her lips quivered and her voice trembled. “M-Melinda.”

  Latawga almost smiled. “I will help you down, Melinda.”

  Feeling very weak, Melinda leaned toward him, and felt Tando firmly grip her arms: Tando eased her into his sons grasp. Latawga lowered Melinda into his arms, then stood her on her feet.

  A crowd had gathered by this time and from his horse’s back, Chief Tando ran his gaze over the curious faces and said, “After we met with Chief Red Arrow, we crossed the South Platte River to come home. We stopped for a short time in the forest to talk about Red Arrows refusal to join us in making war with the whites.” A scowl formed on his face for a moment.

  The people exchanged glances.

  Tando went on. “While we were talking about Red Arrow, we saw this young white woman fall from her horse into the river from the opposite bank. She was alone and was being carried swiftly and helplessly downstream. I ordered
Latawga to dive in and rescue her, which as you can see … he did.”

  At this point, the chief slipped off his horses back and stood beside Latawga and the young woman. “Since our other white woman servant, Joyce, is dead from the fever, I will have this young white woman take her place.”

  Melinda’s heart was pounding at those words, and it only got worse when Tando turned to her with a deep frown on his brow. “I heard you tell my son your name is Melinda. Did I understand correctly?”

  “Yes,” she said timidly.

  “Melinda, you will now be servant, first to my squaw, Leela, then to other squaws as Leela directs you.” He pointed to Leela as he spoke and stepped back.

  Leela took a couple of steps toward her.

  Melinda flinched and moved back a pace, only to run into Tando. He gripped both of her upper arms, not grasping them hard, just letting her know there was no place to run.

  Suddenly, Melinda’s eyes filled with tears. She turned and looked at the chief. “Please, sir. Please let me go home! I beg of you to let me go home! Please!”

  The tears began to spill down her cheeks.

  Leela stepped up to her, laid a hand on her shoulder, and said in a soft tone, “If Melinda obeys Chief Tando and Leela she will not be mistreated, but the chief has spoken. She will not be allowed to go home. But Melinda should be glad that our son saved her from drowning.”

  Through her tears, Melinda gazed at Leela. Even in her distraught state, she noted that the chief’s squaw was quite lovely. She was petite, and there was a grace in her shoulders and shining beauty in her tender eyes. Her copper skin glowed from the reflected light of the cook fire, and two long, lustrous braids hung down her back.

  Tando moved up beside Leela and set his dark eyes on Melinda. “You must dry your tears. As my squaw has said, if you obey us, you will not be harmed. But you are now Leela’s servant and will serve other squaws as she directs you. You will live in the tepee next to ours with two widows of our warriors. Please do not try to escape. We will only catch you, and you will be punished.”