Medicine Wheel

by Ron Schwab

  Her dark eyes fastened on his like they were trying to bore into his soul. “Thad, you have a son. You and I have a son.”

  What in the hell was she babbling about? He tried in vain to sort out her words, to make some sense out of what she had said.

  “That’s not possible. How?”

  “Good God, Thad, you’re a doctor. Do I have to draw you a picture?”

  She was irritating him now, but he subdued his anger. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he said evenly. “Just explain.”

  “Our son is ten years old. He was conceived right where you and I are sitting.”

  He could feel his heart racing and a mix of emotions—anger, regret, sadness and, yes, joy stirring in his mind. “And you’ve never told me during all of these years. I can’t believe it. Did your parents know?”

  “Yes, Mama begged me to tell you, threatened to do it herself, but I told her she had no right. But I wronged her, too. She’s carried the burden of a silent lie all of these years. It hurt her terribly to keep this from you.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me? I had responsibilities. I would have met them. I loved you. There’s no way I wouldn’t have been there for you both, even if I had to move back east. I would have married you in the blink of an eye. You know that. I asked you to marry me before you left.”

  “That’s precisely why I didn’t tell you. I loved you then, Thad, but you didn’t fit into the life I was driven to, and Aunt Clara was there to help me raise a child. Besides, you would have hated it in the East. You probably wouldn’t have got your education. This is where you belong, doing exactly what you do.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that somehow I could have been a part of his life all of these years.”

  “I know. I’m sick about what I’ve done.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Edward Thaddeus Locke. He goes by ‘Ned.’”

  “He carries the Locke name?”

  “Yes. I asked Mama to enter it that way in the family Bible. I was going to tell you, but each year it got harder and harder.”

  “And if you hadn’t determined you are dying, I would have never known about my son?”

  “That’s not true. He’s been asking too many questions about his father. I had decided I couldn’t wait any longer. I was going to bring him back to meet you and then we would talk about how you would see each other.”

  “I have no doubt you intended to do that, but pardon me if I’m skeptical that this would have ever happened if you hadn’t been concerned about your health.”

  “I can’t blame you for thinking that.”

  “What does he know about me?”

  “I’ve told him where you live and about your family. For years I told him that you couldn’t come see him because you were so far away and so busy. He seemed to accept that since he had never known a life with a man in the house. But then a year ago he started to hammer me with questions and demanded I take him to see you. It was then I told him the truth . . . that you didn’t even know about him. He became very angry and belligerent, and then he turned sullen and quiet. This normally loving and enthusiastic boy grew distant and wouldn’t open up to me anymore. When I left on my speaking tour on my way to Kansas a month ago, I told him I was going to tell you about him and that we would probably be moving to the Flint Hills to be near his father and his grandparents. He was thrilled but, understandably, a bit disbelieving.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  “Well, he’s got the Locke gray eyes. Very tall for his age. I guess, by the standards that prevail, he’d be considered colored, but he’s even lighter-skinned than I am. He has a beautiful, friendly smile. Sometimes, he’s too serious. A very kind boy. His teachers tell me he’s smart as a whip, and he reads all the time.”

  It stung Thad that he had missed out on this boy’s life, and thoughts of the things they could have shared flashed through his mind. He was nearly overwhelmed by a black melancholy. He stood up and extended his hand to assist Serena to her feet. “I don’t think we have much else to say to each other about this,” he said. “I need to think.”

  Serena faced him, “I understand.”

  “I want to see him soon.”

  “We’ll be back within six months, probably sooner.”

  “I can travel to Washington and spend a week or so. We can get acquainted.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t come. I’m afraid it would be disruptive. School’s starting, and I have my affairs to wind up there. Please, give me this time to prepare him. I know I don’t deserve your consideration, but, please, let me do this my way. When we return, I promise I’ll do everything I can to bring him into your life.”

  “But I’ve already missed all these years.”

  “Please.”

  “I’ll have to think about it,” he said noncommittally. “Now you’d better be on your way. Do you need help getting down the trail?”

  “I’ll be fine. But there’s one other thing you should know. I had your father make out my will. Everything goes to Ned. Your father is executor, and I’ve named you Ned’s personal guardian. You and your father will be co-trustees of a trust to handle Ned’s money until he’s twenty-one.”

  “The Judge knows about Ned?”

  “Yes, I put him in a very difficult position. He insisted I tell you immediately. I convinced him to wait until the trial was over. Besides, at that point he was bound by attorney-client confidentiality. He and Vedette are the only persons outside my family who know about Ned.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. A will. She did believe she was dying. She didn’t look well, but this had been a difficult reunion for both of them. What more could he say, though? She had made it clear she wasn’t interested in his medical opinions.

  Serena looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to respond. He did not, and she turned away and walked unsteadily toward the trailhead.

  57

  HENRY, WHO HAD not yet returned to the home of his mistress, woke Thad up when he leaped on his chest and began to give his nose love nips, a clear signal it was time for breakfast. That meant it was precisely five-thirty this Monday morning, for Henry was as reliable as the best timepiece. Thad tossed back his covers and reluctantly climbed out of bed. He had just pulled on his trousers and boots, when he heard a feeble tapping at the exterior door of his office at the opposite end of his small residence. He slipped into a shirt and buttoned it on his way to the single-room office area.

  When he opened the door, he was surprised to find Elizabeth Belmont standing there, her eyes wide and glistening with tears. “Elizabeth,” he said, waving her into the room, “come in. What’s the matter? More trouble with the hogs?”

  She began sobbing, stopping intermittently and taking deep breaths as she spilled out her story. “It’s Serena. She’s dying. She’s been sick since Saturday night and keeps getting worse. Old Doc Robinson came out yesterday afternoon and said she was dying. He left laudanum to help with the pain.”

  Thad was struck by a wave of regret about the cold parting he and Serena had experienced Saturday. Her illness had remained very much on his mind, however, and he had spent most of the afternoon and evening searching his limited medical books and journals to ferret out fragments of information that might help.

  “Sit down, Elizabeth,” he said calmly, offering her one of the captain’s chairs before he pulled up another and sat down facing her. “Tell me, why did you come here?”

  “Mama sent me. She said you should be there, and she told me she’s been praying you might help.”

  “Tell me about Serena. I want to know her symptoms . . . how she’s acting.”

  Elizabeth had composed herself now. “She has the shakes . . . awful chills. And she sweats and sweats and hurts all over. A lot of the time she’s out of her head.”

  “Delirious?”

  “Yes. That’s the word . . . delirious. And she goes into these trances where she doesn’t hear anybody talking to her
. She was like that when I left. Mama called it a coma.”

  Thad leaned back in his chair. He should head for the Belmont place right away. He needed something from Smith’s Drug Store, though. He was hesitant to send Elizabeth on the errand. Ebenezer Smith was rumored to be a part of the hierarchy of the local Klan. Thad wasn’t sure what kind of reception a young colored girl might receive there. “Elizabeth, do you know where Kirsten Cavelle lives?”

  “The C Bar C? Sure.”

  Thad slid the chair over to his desk and pulled out pencil and paper and began to write. When he was finished, he handed a folded sheet to Elizabeth. “I want you to ride over to the C Bar C and tell Miss Cavelle what’s happened and ask her to have Asa take this note to Smith’s Drug Store. I’ve instructed Smith to put the medicine on my account. When he gets the drug I’ve requested, he is to bring it to me at your parents’ house. Can you do that?”

  She gave her first smile and nearly leaped from her chair. “Yes, sir. I’m on my way.”

  58

  WHEN THAD ARRIVED at the Belmont farm, he was met at the door by Rachael, who latched onto his arm and guided him into the parlor. Her face was sober and drawn, and he thought she had aged ten years since he last saw her.

  “Thad, I can’t thank you enough for coming. Dr. Robinson gave us no hope. Quincy is crumbling. He’s out back, praying his heart out for a miracle.”

  “Elizabeth should be along soon,” he said, “I sent her to relay a message to Kirsten Cavelle. Has Serena’s condition changed since Elizabeth left?”

  “Not really. She’s asleep, and I can’t wake her. I can tell she has a terrible fever.”

  “Where is she? I’d like to see her.”

  “She’s in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Clarissa’s with her.” She moved toward the stairway. “Follow me.”

  When they entered the bedroom, an obviously frightened Clarissa slipped out of the bedside chair and, without a word, scurried out of the room. Thad took her place and sat there for some moments, studying the young woman clad only in a sweat-soaked cotton nightdress. The wet fabric clung to her like a second layer of skin and her body shook like a feather fluttering in the wind. Her teeth rattled noisily. He placed his hand on her damp forehead and felt fire. She was teetering on the edge of death. ”Serena,” he said. “Serena.” There was no response.

  He turned to Rachael. “We need to fill a tub with fresh well water. Can you get the kids started on that?”

  “Of course, we’ve got a large claw-foot bathtub in a closet off the kitchen.” She disappeared from the room,

  Thad watched Serena helplessly, wishing he could take back the cold, harsh words he had tossed at her during their meeting at the medicine wheel. They had to pull her out of this crisis. He prayed for a chance to make things right with her. What’s done is done, he decided. Forgiveness purges the bitter soul. They would go forward from here, not likely as a couple, but as a team working for a good life for Ned. If he was right, her condition was mostly about fever. One of his medical school professors had always preached, “treat the symptoms, and let the disease take care of itself.” Thad had always followed that precept in his veterinary practice and had come to accept it as faith.

  Soon, Rachael returned. She was nearly breathless. “The tub’s ready. I got Quincy off his knees, and it didn’t take long.”

  Thad stood and bent over the bed and lifted Serena’s lifeless form into his arms. In a moment they were in the kitchen where Quincy stood, looking deeply chagrined and helpless. Thad was pleased to see Elizabeth had returned. She could be helpful now. “Elizabeth, did you get the message to Miss Cavelle?”

  “Yes, and she took it herself. She was off like the wind before I even started back.”

  Thad had asked for Asa because he feared Kirsten, in light of her recent history, might also encounter resistance at the drugstore. On second thought, however, he shrugged off his concerns. How many men or women were tough enough to stand up to Kirsten? Damn few.

  He carried Serena over to the tub. “Rachael and Elizabeth, when I let Serena down next to the tub, I need to have you help me slip her out of the nightdress and get her into the tub.”

  In a few minutes Serena was submerged to her neck in the cold water. It worried him that her body did not noticeably react to the water. “Elizabeth,” he said, “would you find a washrag and just keep washing your sister’s face with the cool water? We’ll do this for about half an hour and then get her into some dry things and back in bed.”

  “Yes, Doctor, I’ll do that right now.” She left the room for a few minutes, returned with a cloth and was soon kneeling next to the tub ministering to her sister. The young woman wanted to be a veterinary surgeon. She had the raw material to make a good one, he thought. Thad watched Serena’s face intently. Her eyes fluttered, and he moved next to the tub and got down on his knees for a closer look.

  “I saw it, too,” Elizabeth said. “Her eyes.”

  Serena’s eyes blinked several times, but that was the extent of her response. After Thad decided it was time to remove her from the tub, Rachael and Elizabeth dried Serena’s body and maneuvered her into a fresh nightdress, and then he carried her back up the stairs and returned her to the bed. He felt her forehead. Still hot, but not the raging burn. Her shivering seemed more subdued. But she stayed locked in the coma.

  “Hi, Doc. I’ve got your medicine.”

  Thad started at the sound of Kirsten’s voice and turned to find her only a few feet behind him. “You didn’t waste any time.”

  “I rode like a bat out of hell.” She handed him a paper-wrapped bottle. “The magic potion?”

  “I hope. But I can’t give it to her while she’s asleep.”

  Kirsten stepped to Serena’s bedside. “My grandma was like this once. She had some kind of lung fever where she coughed and hacked and had a terrible fever, and everybody thought she was dying. I was just a little girl and I remember the family gathered around her bed and started to sing hymns to send her on a peaceful trip to the hereafter. She woke up all at once and scared the hell out of some of the singers.” Kirsten pulled a chair up next to the bed. “Any better ideas?” she asked.

  Without waiting for an answer, Kirsten sat down and took Serena’s hand in hers. Thad and Rachael stepped back, but Elizabeth continued applying the wet cloth to Serena’s face and forehead. Kirsten began to sing softly and clearly, with a voice that was incredibly beautiful and so unexpected from this tough-talking rancher woman. She sang non-stop for nearly an hour, from time to time squeezing Serena’s hand as if trying to pump life into her body. Her repertoire of songs ran the gamut from “Aura Lea” and “Listen to the Mockingbird” to “Camptown Races” and an inspiring rendition of “Amazing Grace.”

  And then Serena’s eyes opened slowly and she turned her head and looked at Kirsten, who still gripped her hand firmly. “Kirsten, what are you doing here?”

  Kirsten smiled. “I was just running an errand for Doc here and thought I’d come by and wish you my best.”

  It suddenly occurred to Thad that sometime during the singing, Serena’s chills had subsided significantly. “Rachael,” Thad said, “I need a small glass or cup.”

  “I have a little cordial glass, but don’t tell Quincy. He’s a teetotaler . . . I’m not. I’ll fetch it.”

  Thad noticed that Rachael’s mood had lightened quickly with Serena’s return to the living, but he was certain this was simply a brief cease fire in the battle ahead. He moved in next to the bed and looked down at Serena.

  “We need to talk about your illness. Are you thinking clearly?”

  “I’m a little confused about you and Kirsten being here, but I know I’ve been more or less unconscious.”

  “More rather than less. I wasn’t sure you’d make it back.”

  “I heard music. I thought I was in heaven.”

  “Kirsten was your angel. Your mother sent for me. I’m your doctor, if you’ll let me be for a while.”

  She gave a wea
k smile. “You did a good enough job with my ankle one time. Yeah, you can be my doctor.”

  Rachael returned with a tiny glass, and Thad unwrapped the druggist’s package and pulled out a large bottle embossed with the drug store name and nearly brim-full with a clear liquid. He plucked the cork from the container and took the glass from Rachael and poured no more than an ounce. He turned back to Serena and observed the perspiration forming on her brow again. She was on the brink of another attack, he thought. With his free arm he reached down and propped her up so she could drink. “I want you to take all of this . . . just sip.”

  “What is it?”

  “Drink.”

  She obeyed, and then he lay her back down. “We need a few more pillows. I don’t want her lying so flat. Her head and upper body should be elevated some. Now, this may make you a little drowsy, and that’s okay. It’s a good sleep. I gave you some quinine.”

  “Quinine?”

  “It’s a drug that’s been around for a long time. It’s processed from the bark of the Cinchona tree, generally found in South America. It’s used as an antipyretic.”

  “Oh my God,” Kirsten chimed in,”how can you go wrong? You’ve got a horse doctor that uses big words.” There was a soft tittering in the room, and even Serena smiled.

  Thad cast Kirsten an annoyed look. She never let him get too full of himself, he had to admit. “An antipyretic is a drug that fights the fever. It’s very effective, but you have to monitor the dosage and determine just how much it takes to get the results. Your fever was coming back. We’ll wait an hour and probably try some more. It’s the fever that will harm your body and, quite frankly, cause the complications that could be fatal.”

  “You know something. Tell me.”

  He tossed a look at Kirsten. “Anyone who doesn’t want to listen to a medical lecture, possibly with a few big words, may leave.” Nobody left.

  “I don’t know something for sure, but I suspect something. I think you have malaria. The fever, the chills and the fact it goes into remission and comes back. It’s been called bilious fever, miasmal fever and any number of names. The name comes from Italian words, mal and aria . . . bad air. There were all kinds of suspected villains over the years, but about five years ago, a French physician discovered that it’s caused by a parasite in the blood.”