“Stay lying down, Mr. Cross. You’re doing very well.”
“Good thing Dr. Boyd was here,” Jess told his friend. “You’re going to be just fine.” Jess gave her a nod.
“What is the Army doing in Cowboy Creek?” Marlys asked.
“Delivering food to the Cheyenne.”
She paused her work on her patient’s foot momentarily. “Nearby?”
“To the south.”
“I read General Sherman had ordered provisions until a more permanent arrangement could be made by the peace commissioner.” She continued her effort to massage blood upward. “Have you seen their camp?”
He nodded. “Saw it last time we were through. They’re doin’ some farming.”
That made sense, since the tribes didn’t have freedom to travel, and their hunting was limited. The settlers would claim they had rights to the land if the Indians weren’t going to farm it. “Could you give me directions to get there?”
“Respectfully, Doctor, it’s not safe for you to ride into their camp alone.”
“I want to help them.”
“They don’t know that. Do you speak Cheyenne?”
She shook her head. “I don’t, but I can speak other languages, and there might be someone to interpret until I pick it up.”
He cast her a doubtful glance. “All the same, not a wise idea.”
“Perhaps you could take me with you.”
“I’m afraid not, ma’am. These distributions have to be handled delicately. Our orders are to send in as few men as possible while guarding the perimeter, deliver our parcels peaceably and leave. Taking a woman along would land us in hot water.”
“Of course.” She didn’t want to get the soldiers in trouble. But she wasn’t going to give up on the idea, either. I’ll just have to find an escort.
Enoch arrived with ice. The sound of additional boots on the floor in the waiting area caught her attention. “Are there patients arriving?”
“No, ma’am,” Enoch said. “I mentioned Ben’s treatment when I was at the café, and some of the men wanted to see what was going on.”
She blinked, gathering her thoughts. “What exactly do they want to see?”
“This here hot and cold treatment.”
“I carried ice!” someone called from the other room.
“Watch Mr. Cross a moment,” she said to Jess. “I’ll be right back.” Enoch followed her out of the exam room.
It had begun to snow, and four cowboys hung dripping dusters on hooks inside the door. “I’ll wipe that up,” one of them told her. “Wanted to see the soldier’s foot.”
She’d never had an audience before, and she didn’t know what to make of this one. She looked from face to face, seeing only sincere curiosity. “If Ben doesn’t mind, I’ll allow you in, two at a time.”
Enoch accompanied her back to the room, where he relieved Jess, and within minutes Jess was relaying what he’d witnessed to the group of cowboys.
Ben shrugged his acquiescence, and she had no lack of help chipping and dumping ice into a tub. She wrapped Ben’s foot in a wet cloth and instructed him to lower it into the tub. He winced and cursed inventively. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“Would you like another dose of the pain medicine?”
“Yes’m, please.”
She diluted and administered the herbal mixture, and it didn’t take long for her patient to relax.
The observers were surprisingly quiet, occasionally whispering among themselves. Soon she asked Ben to remove his foot from the tub. “We’re going to do hot water mineral therapy again and then one more round of ice. Are you doing all right?”
“Ben, your ankle is already half the size it was when we brought you in,” Jess told him. More men clambered to get a look as Marlys dried it off and rubbed oil into the flesh.
“Would this treatment work if a horse stepped on ya?” one of the men asked.
“I need more water heated, if a couple of you don’t mind,” she said. “There are kettles on the stove. I’ll answer your question when the water is ready.”
Within minutes her helpers had emptied the deep bucket and replaced it with steaming water. Collective silence ensued as she added oils and Epsom salt. With her damp sleeves pushed up over elbows she began the massage.
“What good does that rubbing do?” one of the men asked.
“It works the blood back toward his heart and supplies oxygen to his injured muscles and tissues. I first made certain he had no broken bones or cuts that needed treatment,” she explained. “If he had, I’d have cared for those first and then assessed whether or not this procedure was safe. Since I believed there were no underlying problems, I felt it was harmless to treat the crushed area.”
“And what did you add to the water?”
“My own mixture of oils. The smell helped him be more calm, and the oils contain healing properties.”
“Will he be able to walk on that foot?”
“He’ll need to keep it elevated and rest until the bruising goes away, but I believe he’ll be just fine.”
“Are ya done gawking?” Ben asked.
“I’m going to go clean up your floor,” the man who’d promised told her. “Glad you’re going to be all right, soldier. Thank you, ma’am.”
“I’ll let Sergeant Calhoun know about Ben,” Enoch said as he left.
The few remaining men departed until only Jess remained.
“Where is the rest of your regiment?” she asked.
“Camped outside town.”
“Mr. Cross can stay here as long as needed,” she told Jess. “I have passable quarters set up in the rear, so I can stay and check on him during the night.”
* * *
The next morning brought the Army sergeant, who thanked her and paid her generously for her services. He arranged to have meals for the soldier sent from the Cattleman Hotel. Several new patients ventured in with various complaints, from foot fungus to stomach aches and coughs. She suspected one or two were there merely to see the recovering soldier, but she treated them anyway.
By the end of the day it was clear that if business continued at this pace, she was going to need help. Just running the dirty laundry out and picking it up left her waiting room unattended. She needed time to restock supplies and clean, as well. But despite the difficulties, her day had been exhilarating. Obviously this influx of patients was a result of yesterday’s news, so it could slack off at any time, but while the surge lasted, she was relieved to use her skills.
She hadn’t had time to return to the newspaper, so at the end of the week she wrote out her advertisements, made certain Ben was settled, and trudged along the snowy street. Her research about Kansas had revealed freezing temperatures and snow any time in late October, but she hadn’t learned about the wind until she’d climbed down from the train and chased her hat across the platform. She got a firm hold of the Herald’s doorknob and pushed, so she didn’t lose hold of it, and entered.
The interior was warm and smelled of oil and ink. The desks and filing cabinets had been organized and arranged, and it looked like a place ready for business. Sam stood from where he’d been seated at a desk and motioned for her to come behind the divider. “Dr. Boyd.”
“Mr. Mason.” She removed her wool mittens, unbuttoned her coat and took the papers from her skirt pocket, unfolding them and joining him to spread them flat on his desk. “How much for these two advertisements?”
“May I take your coat and get you a cup of coffee?”
“I won’t be staying long. I have to get right back. One of my placements is a request for an assistant.”
“Sounds like you’ve already been busy. I heard talk about the soldier you’re treating.” His deep blue eyes still held a measure of reserve.
“How much d
o I owe?”
“I charge by the word as a rule.” He took a pencil from behind his ear and quickly calculated the words on her two notices, then gave her a price.
She paid him. “When can I expect these to run?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll be printing five issues a week to start. Would you like your advertisements in consecutive issues, as well? As long as I have the type set, I’m happy to do that for free for, say, another week? Or until you find your assistant, if it takes less time than that.”
She blinked in surprise. “Yes, thank you.”
He wrote her a receipt and handed it to her. “My pleasure.”
“Also,” she said, “you’ve probably met more townspeople than I have since you’re gathering news. Would you know of a guide or anyone who would be willing to escort me on a short trip outside of town?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“There’s a Cheyenne encampment to the south. I want to visit them.”
“Visit the Cheyenne?” Lines formed between his brows when he frowned. “Tensions are high between the Army and the Indians. There’s only a tenuous balance of peace. I don’t know that that’s wise.”
Her determined gaze locked with his, and she hoped he could see that she would not be dissuaded. “I’m going.”
Chapter Three
“The soldiers are unable to accompany me,” she continued. “They said I’d need an escort.”
“Indeed you will if you persist with this plan. If you don’t mind me asking, why do you want to go there?”
“I want to see if they need medical attention.”
“They’re Cheyenne, Marlys. They have their own medicine.”
His use of her given name startled her, and she looked at him more closely. His ebony hair had a disheveled look, as though he’d run a hand through it recently. His furrowed brow showed only concern. He had a half-inch-long curved scar on his cheekbone under his left eye that she hadn’t noticed before. It was still pink, as though it was fairly new.
“That’s another of my reasons for wanting to meet them,” she admitted, tucking the receipt into her pocket.
He nodded, but his look of censure remained. “It wouldn’t be safe. Relations between the Army, the settlers and the Indians are touchy. There are entire regiments assigned to protection when those provisions are delivered. It’s not unusual for the Sioux to try to steal goods from the Cheyenne.”
“I don’t have anything to steal, and they have no reason to fear me.”
“That’s naive thinking, doctor. You don’t want to land yourself right in the middle of unexpected danger.”
She gave her head a little shake. “You’re entitled to your opinion.”
“You’re a bullheaded woman.”
“Which is why I will ask for a guide at the hotel and the sheriff’s office if you don’t have any better suggestions.”
“You’ve made up your mind you’re going.”
“I have.”
“I’ll find a scout and go with you, then.”
“You?”
“Is that so hard to imagine? I spent the whole of the war in the Army. How about you? Do you ride well?”
“I do.”
“When would you like to go?”
“Thursday?”
“I’ll meet you here at seven, then.”
* * *
Ben’s sergeant was with him when Marlys returned. “Is Private Cross able to be moved to the hotel?” he asked. “I will engage another private to stay with him.”
“Mr. Cross should be fine as long as he keeps his weight off that foot for at least another few days. I have crutches he can borrow until then, so he can get around unassisted. I’ve learned they have two small rooms on the ground floor, so ask for one of those.”
“I have to admit I wouldn’t have believed how good his foot looks in only a few days if I hadn’t seen the difference myself.”
“He was fortunate,” Marlys replied. “Nothing was broken, and his friends got him here quickly.”
“He was fortunate you were the doctor they brought him to.” He took bills from a flat purse on his belt and handed them to her.
“You already paid me,” she said.
“Even this amount is inadequate for your services. He will be back with the regiment soon. He may have been forced to leave the Army had you not healed his foot.”
“God created the body to do the healing itself. I simply treat the symptoms in a manner that best advances the process.” She accepted the payment. “Thank you.” She gathered Ben’s belongings and ushered them to the door.
A minute later, she patted the cash in her pocket. She now had the time and the funds to have some additional work done to her office. First thing she would do was find someone to install a secure lock on her medicine pantry. Many of her tinctures and oils could be harmful if used improperly. She gathered the laundry and headed out. After dropping off yet another heavy bag, she paid to have it delivered, then carried her clean clothing items to the boardinghouse. After putting them away in her temporary room, she found Aunt Mae bustling about the kitchen.
“Hello, dear,” the short, round woman said with an easy smile. “There’s certainly a lot of talk in town today, and you’re the topic of one choice tidbit.”
“The soldier’s injury, I presume,” she said.
“Yes, that.” She sliced two loaves of bread in deft strokes. “How is the fellow doing?”
“Quite well. His sergeant just took him to the hotel to finish recuperating.”
“And have you heard all the talk about Quincy Davis’s mail-order bride?”
Marlys puzzled over that one. “Wasn’t he the previous sheriff who was killed?”
“Precisely. But unbeknownst to everyone, he’d sent for an Austrian bride, and she arrived ready to give birth. Leah, the midwife—do you know her?—attended to her, and the blacksmith married her on the spot so her baby would have a name and a father.”
That seemed like a hasty decision, but she addressed the medical aspect. “Is she faring well?”
“Seems it was touch and go for a long while. Doc Fletcher couldn’t be reached.”
“Someone should have sent for me.”
“Leah’s a competent midwife.”
“I’m sure she is.”
“Stay for lunch as long as you’re here. I made a hearty soup and this warm bread. You skip too many meals, and they’re included in your rent.”
“Thank you.” She carried the basket of bread to the dining room, where the boarders were just settling into their places.
Old Horace was probably in his seventies, and wore his long gray hair in a tail down his back. Gus Russell had a white beard and was probably about the same age. In summer the two of them played horseshoes in the lot behind Booker & Son. Sunny days in winter afforded them afternoons on a bench in front of the mercantile. They knew all the comings and goings of the residents and newcomers. Though they often contradicted each other, their friendship was obvious.
“Howdy, Doc Boyd. Heard about the little German baby born last night?” Horace asked.
“He ain’t German. He’s Austrian,” Gus corrected.
“Same thing, ain’t it?”
“Same language, but different countries,” Marlys said. “There are different inflections in their dialects.”
Gus licked his lips at the steaming bowl Aunt Mae sat before him. “You speak German?”
“I do. I’m looking for someone to teach me Cheyenne.”
Gus squinted at her.
She seated herself and thanked the proprietress. She tasted the hearty soup. “I’m also looking for someone to install a lock on a storage pantry. Is there a local locksmith?”
“The farrier does locks,” Horace
told her. “Colton Werner’s his name.”
“He’s the blacksmith who married the Austrian woman,” Aunt Mae explained.
“So, I’d find him at the livery to the north on this same street?”
“That’s the one,” the woman replied. “Speaking of newcomers, we have a new boarder. Georgia Morris is her name. She’s here to make a marriage, so she won’t last long.” She eyed Marlys. “Are you making friends in Cowboy Creek?”
Sam had asked the same question. Why did everyone want to know? While she wasn’t averse to having friends, she had simply never had the time. “I haven’t been here long enough.”
“Maybe, but you’ve stayed to yourself for the most part. There’s church service on Sundays, and this week there’s a gathering afterward. You should go. Just meet people. They’ll be more likely to trust you with their medical concerns if you’ve made their acquaintance.”
Marlys studied the older woman thoughtfully. As a doctor, she had a lot working against her, to be honest. She was a woman in a man’s profession in a man’s land. She didn’t practice conventional medicine. She had never been outgoing or personable. She didn’t care about fitting in, but perhaps giving the appearance of fitting in would make her more appealing and earn trust. Aunt Mae was genial and well-meaning, and she had no lack of helpful opinions. Marlys appreciated learning, so perhaps there was something to be learned from this woman everyone liked.
Marlys finished her lunch and thanked her landlady.
The blacksmith was a large man with a nice face and scarred hands. He listened to her explain what she needed, and told her he’d be able to do the work the following day.
She stopped at Godwin’s boot and shoe shop, and a thin brown-haired woman wearing a print dress and a white apron greeted her. “Good afternoon. I’m Opal Godwin. Can I help you?”
Marlys removed her scarf. “I hope so. My boots get wet so often, they’re never dry by the next time I go out. I need another pair.”
“It’s going to be a long winter,” the woman said with a smile. “Have a seat and I’ll draw your foot for my husband.” She knelt and unlaced Marlys’s boots. “Are you Miss Morris?”
“No, I’m Dr. Boyd.”
Cowboy Creek Christmas Page 3
