Sawbones

by Melissa Lenhardt

  The wooden platform bed creaked under my weight as I sat down. The room smelled of freshly lumbered wood and I wondered how long Kindle had lived in these quarters. Had he and his men built this small house? It would have been a cozy place to live if it wasn’t marooned in the middle of the prairie and surrounded by heathens.

  I picked up the cork stopper and remembered with chagrin the night before. Sleep was kept at bay by visions of the attack and morbid fantasies of the exposed fort being overrun by an army of thousands of Indians. My mind also drifted to Anna. The thought of her being raped repeatedly and mercilessly finally drove me to my medical bag and the bottle of laudanum now sitting innocently, and half-empty, on my bedside table.

  My racing heart beat with every throb of my head. The temptation to banish my vivid visions with more laudanum so I could get through the day was seductive. I lifted the bottle and to drink deeply when the image of my father, lying in a crude wooden coffin, coins covering his eyes, stayed my hand. My wonderful, honorable father had spent the last few months of his life behind the same haze I yearned for. The bottle reminded me of my humiliation at the man he became, and how I, in my youthful hubris, scorned his justifications and excuses.

  Slowly, I replaced the cork stopper and dropped the bottle into my medical bag. As appealing as the idea was, I couldn’t afford to be pulled into insensibility. Sherman had given me the opportunity to turn this tragedy into a positive and I was determined to succeed.

  Resolved, I pinched my cheeks, patted my hair into place, and left the room.

  Kindle was propped up in bed and looking much better than I had expected, due in no small part to the half-eaten plate of bacon and eggs he balanced on his lap. In the kitchen, Caro hummed an unfamiliar tune and periodically had brief conversations with herself about her tasks. The scene was an unpleasant reminder of the happy days of my childhood when my father would read the paper at the kitchen table, eating the breakfast Maureen served, while she puttered around the kitchen, singing Irish tunes and admonishing me to mind my manners. Another memory to file away for later.

  “You look well enough to, dare I say, ride a horse?”

  “I believe I am,” Kindle replied. “Though I am under strict instructions to play the invalid for at least another day.”

  “Two days.”

  “We shall see.”

  “You’re dressed,” I said, noting his blue breeches, shirt, and unbuttoned waistcoat.

  “Yes, Caro helped me this morning while you were having a lie-in.”

  I bristled. “A lie-in?”

  “A much-needed rest.”

  “Please, Captain, don’t mind my vanity. Abuse my outward appearance as much as you like.”

  “I doubt you have a vain bone in your body. I, on the other hand, am quite a dandy. I must be presentable for the hordes of well-wishers who are sure to visit me.”

  “I understand, though your garments will make it difficult to check your wounds.”

  Caro walked in from the kitchen, holding a metal coffeepot. “I checked the bandages before getting him dressed, ma’am. No infection.”

  A resisted a sharp retort with difficulty and forced myself to relax and smile. My recent testiness was not a typical characteristic of mine and was even grating on my nerves. “Wonderful. Thank you, Caro.”

  “You’re welcome. I made coffee. I’ll bring your breakfast.”

  “Thank you.”

  With no professional tasks to distract me I stood in the middle of the drawing room floor—though to call it a drawing room was generous in the extreme—acutely embarrassed, as if I was standing in the bedroom of a man and not a patient. Turning my back on Kindle, I took in the view of the wide-open prairie out the back window of the room. “Why does this fort not have walls?”

  “It’s believed walls offer a false sense of security. Without them, we are always vigilant.” He paused before continuing. “It’s not in the Indian’s nature to assault a fixed position, such as a fort. They prefer to raid homesteads and small groups where they have the advantage of numbers and surprise.”

  “Like wagon trains.”

  He was saved the necessity of answering by the return of Caro with two cups of coffee. I thanked her, forced it down, and marveled at the lack of disgust on Kindle’s face after taking a large gulp. “I’ve had worse,” he said.

  I walked across the room to the front window. Every soldier had a task and was performing it, if not exactly with enthusiasm, at least with a languid purpose. Kindle’s quarters, along with the other officers’ quarters, made up the southern boundary of the fort, affording me a view of half the buildings on the eastern “border,” the hospital to the west, and straight ahead, a row of picket-style buildings.

  “Those are quarters for the enlisted men,” Kindle said.

  I pushed away the uneasiness his clairvoyance gave me and asked him about the buildings to the right.

  “Adjutant’s office, reading room, quartermaster’s office, bank quarters. Just out of sight, near the corral, is the sutler’s store.”

  “Reading room?”

  “It was the pet project of the first commander’s wife. Harriet—Miss Mackenzie—teaches the children there in the mornings. You’re welcome to borrow any book that interests you.”

  “Is it used by the men?”

  “Not as much as I would like, but some. Behind the barracks are mess halls for the men and on the far side of the fort are the stables and corral.”

  “North of the hospital?”

  “Bakery, ordnance store, magazine, guardhouse.”

  Caro entered the room and placed the plate on the table. Kindle thanked her and complimented her cooking. “The eggs were perfect, Caro. Thank you.”

  Kindle, finished with his breakfast, watched me eat. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” I asked.

  “I’m waiting on you to take me on a turn around the room. You promised me one or two today. I have been looking forward to it for hours.”

  I shook my head and hid a smile. What an inveterate flirt. “How did you sleep, Captain?”

  “A dreamless sleep of a baby. You?”

  “The same.”

  For a moment, I thought he was going to call me on my lie, as I had him the night before. Instead, he said, “You may call me William, you know. Or Kindle, if my Christian name is too familiar.”

  “I’m not sure it’s appropriate, especially in light of my conversation with Harriet Mackenzie.”

  “We’re alone and I won’t tell,” he whispered.

  The bacon was so crisp and perfectly cooked it crumbled in my mouth, a hazard when I laughed and almost choked.

  He moved to help me but I held out my hand for him to stop and coughed a few times. Caro came to my rescue, slapping me forcefully on the back, which didn’t help much.

  “Thank you,” I croaked, and waved my hand at her. She retrieved a glass of water, which settled the matter. When she was back in the kitchen and humming, I chastised Kindle.

  “You need to stop flirting with me.”

  “Am I?”

  He looked so shocked at the notion it made me wonder.

  “Aren’t you?”

  His laugh was musical, as dissonant to his appearance and chosen career as his unblemished hands and flirtatious manner. I tried to be offended but his laugh was infectious.

  I laughed as well. “You are incorrigible.”

  “Precisely what my mother always said.”

  I folded my hands together and stayed as far away from him as possible. “I know what you’re doing.”

  “Flirting?”

  “Yes, as a way to distract me from my grief. I appreciate it, more than you know.” My throat closed with emotion. I coughed and continued. “I can tell it is taking a great effort for you to keep my spirits up.”

  “I am trying to keep your spirits up?”

  “Most assuredly.”

  “It cannot be because I find you lovely and want to get to know you better?”

  M
y stomach gave a pleasant little flutter. How my body could betray my mind at this moment, I didn’t know. I kept my voice light, though part of me wanted to cry. “I’ve seen my reflection in your rather small, broken mirror. Lovely is not the adjective that comes to mind.”

  “Maybe it’s your conversation.”

  “Do you remember them?”

  “I would remember more but my doctor insists on dosing me with laudanum.” He put his plate aside. “It’s heartening to know you think my motives are so noble. However, I must confess I am flirting with you for two selfish reasons. One, it keeps my mind off my pain.”

  “Oh. Yes, of course,” I said, slightly disappointed.

  “Two, you become charmingly flushed when I flirt with you. I am not in so much pain I don’t receive satisfaction from making a beautiful woman blush.”

  It would have been easy to bask in his attention. He was charming, handsome, and easy to talk to. It would have been nothing to let Kindle harmlessly flirt with me while he recovered and shake his hand with an affectionate good-bye when I continued on my journey. But I knew to let him have too much control would be dangerous.

  I dropped my eyes to the floor and said in a small voice, “If you are not careful, Captain, you will have me falling in love with you.”

  I let the silence stretch before looking up at him with a mischievous smile. The expression on his face in the moment before he realized I was teasing him was a disturbing mixture of astonishment, expectation, and desire, the latter of which confirmed my suspicion that Captain Kindle was, indeed, a quick healer.

  “I must warn you, Captain. I spent my youth among some of the most shameless flirts in England. I escaped with my heart intact and, dare I say, impervious to cheeky men who wish to toy with my emotions.”

  “I would never dream of toying with your…emotions.”

  I stood and walked to the window. I held my hand to my fluttering stomach. I shouldn’t be this happy. Why shouldn’t I be this happy?

  Maureen. Anna. Cornelius. The children.

  My hand massaged my thickening throat and tears burned my eyes. How could I feel so much pleasure so soon after Maureen’s death? After witnessing Amos burned alive? What kind of horrible, selfish person was I?

  “I’m sorry, Laura,” Kindle said. “It is insensitive of me to act as if we are not where we are, and you haven’t been through what you have.”

  I turned abruptly to him to rebuke him for using my Christian name without permission and to agree with him on his insensitivity, to portion out to him some of the guilt I had for enjoying his company so much. Instead, the sound of light footsteps on the front porch stopped me. After a perfunctory knock, Harriet Mackenzie walked in. She ignored me and went straight to Kindle’s bedside.

  “Captain Kindle, I’m thrilled to see you in such great spirits.”

  “Thank you, Miss Mackenzie. You have Dr. Elliston to thank for it.”

  “Indeed?” Harriet replied. Still, she refused to acknowledge I was in the room.

  I stepped forward. “Hello, Miss Mackenzie.” She acknowledged me with a thin smile. “Don’t let him give me too much credit. I am sure his robust constitution is to thank for his appearance and good mood.”

  “I come from hearty stock,” Kindle agreed.

  “Hearty stock or not, you need your rest,” I said. “Would you like another dose of laudanum?”

  “I think I will try whisky instead. I don’t like the way laudanum makes me feel.”

  “I will leave some for Caro in case you change your mind.” I took in Harriet’s hat, gloves, and reticule and asked, “Where are you off to, Miss Mackenzie?”

  “To town and thought I would see if there is anything the captain needed.”

  “No, I am right as a trivet. But thank you for thinking of me.”

  She nodded at Kindle, then posed the same question for me.

  “I’m not sure, to be honest. I want to get settled a bit more, in the hospital and here, before I go on a shopping spree.”

  Harriet laughed. “Jacksboro’s offerings will hardly support a spree. I will be happy to take you on a tour of the town in a couple of days.”

  The offer surprised me. “How kind of you.”

  “If you need anything before, the sutler’s store might have it,” she said. A moment of silence ensued. “Well, I must be going. Can I walk you to the hospital?”

  “Yes, thank you. I am not even sure what time my rounds are.”

  “Eleven fifteen,” Harriet and Kindle said in unison. They laughed. “Fort life is the same everywhere,” Harriet said.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Ten o’clock,” Kindle answered.

  “Do you not have a watch?” Harriet asked.

  I thought of my father’s watch. “No. Most of my possessions…” I cleared my throat as the vision of the devastated wagon train came to mind. “I do not suppose there is any chance of recovery?” I asked Kindle.

  He looked down at his injured arm. “No, it’s most likely been looted by now.”

  “Then a watch will be at the top of my list for our shopping spree,” I said with false enthusiasm. I grasped my medical bag, gave Kindle instructions to rest, and promised to check on him at dinnertime.

  While struggling to sleep the night before, my behavior toward Harriet had weighed on my mind. Though always pushing against the role society wanted me to play, I always understood how to play the role within the bounds of propriety. With Harriet, I had failed spectacularly and risked alienating her unless I was contrite. I also didn’t know what kind of influence she exerted over Lieutenant Colonel Foster. The thought of the letter of recommendation waiting for me spurred me on.

  “Miss Mackenzie, I’d like to apologize if my behavior yesterday was offensive.” Harriet raised her eyebrows. “There is no if,” I amended. “It was offensive. I do not apologize for the sentiments, but I do apologize for the way in which I delivered them.”

  “I was not in the least offended by your delivery. I have ample experience in dealing with personalities affected by…events. Short tempers do not discombobulate me. Your attitude about your living arrangements does concern me and will continue to do so. Our differences do not have to preclude a civil acquaintance, do they?”

  “They do not.”

  I stopped at the foot of the hospital porch steps. Harriet walked a few feet away and turned. “I thought you would agree. You strike me as a pragmatic woman.”

  “I like to think so.”

  “May I ask, what made you want to become a doctor?”

  “My father was a surgeon.”

  “He supported your endeavor?”

  “He wanted me to marry and have children. When he died, I had no one left to object.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Died when I was five years old.”

  “Where exactly did you study, again?”

  “In London.”

  “What college?”

  “I studied with a surgeon. An apprentice, I suppose you could say.”

  She nodded, as if I’d confirmed her suspicion I wasn’t a real doctor.

  “I suppose Sherman didn’t care. That you don’t have a degree.”

  “I suppose my performance saving Captain Kindle’s life was enough qualification.”

  “Not for my brother, however. Before he left, he asked me to investigate your background.”

  I swallowed my panic, and for the first time, thanked God for the remoteness of Fort Richardson. “I will happily give you my mentor’s name. If you will wait an hour, I will walk to the telegraph office with you. To ensure it is directed to the correct person.”

  Harriet pursed her lips. “The telegraph does not reach Jacksboro. Only Fort Worth and Fort Sill.”

  I tried to hide my relief behind calm disinterest and confidence. “Wait here and I will write the name and address down for you.”

  I went into the hospital office, wrote down a name and address, and returned. I handed it to Harri
et, secure in the knowledge that by the time a message got to England and back, I would be well free of Fort Richardson.

  Harriet folded the paper and put it in her reticule without reading it. She wore a black dress for the second day in a row. While the color was flattering with her olive complexion and dark hair, I suspected she chose her attire for a different reason. “Did you lose someone in the war?”

  Her lips tightened very slightly before she answered. “My fiancé. He died at Gettysburg.”

  “My condolences. The cost of war never ends.”

  Harriet dropped her eyes to her hands. “No.” She sniffed and glanced up at the hospital. “Good luck today. I know how much is riding on your success.” She nodded to me and turned toward town, but not before I saw grief shadow her face.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I watched Harriet walk away with pity, which I suspect she would have loathed. She was a woman with no place, save by her brother’s side. Unmarried and without a profession, she most likely relied on the charity of her brother or surviving parents. Reliance meant subordination. She could not be her own person and would naturally resent a woman like me who could.

  I spent the hour before rounds reading the hospital logs, discovering drunkenness, venereal disease, and dysentery were the most common ailments. Most of the few fighting wounds that were treated resulted in gangrene and amputation, solidifying my theory the hospital was a breeding ground for the infection. I was pondering ways to combat this when the bugle sounded, signaling hospital rounds. I added brief comments about Kindle’s surgery and the previous day’s examinations, noted my theory about the infection and steps to alleviate it, and rose to attend my patients.