Wanted: Medicine Man (Silverpines Book 5) Page 2

  Robert went to the door and noticed it was slightly ajar. Pushing it in, he called “Good morning, anyone here?” and let himself inside.

  A moan emitted from the room off to the side and a small child, not more than 3 or 4 appeared in from the room. He was dressed in buckskin with no shoes on his feet. Robert could tell this was an Indian child and his heart lurched. He never thought of Hattie being married or having a child. He wouldn't interfere between a man and wife. Then a thought hit him, what if Hattie's husband died during the disaster?

  The night before, he had a dream of being married to Hattie and a yard full of brown-eyed babies with their mother's exotic coloring. He shook the dream off.

  The young boy held up a cup, as if offering it to Robert. Milk, he deduced, by the white foam above his lip.

  The boy grunted something at Robert and pointed again with his cup. “Mama.”

  Hattie entered the building and placed a stack of sheets that weren’t folded. The small child ran past Robert and flung himself into Hattie's arms, covering them both with milk. Hattie murmured something to the child that Robert couldn't understand. It sounded guttural with a series of clicks. The child finished what was left in the cup and scampered down to go up a set of stairs that Robert just noticed.

  “Forgive me for not being here when you arrived.” Hattie placed the cup on the counter, then shook out her skirt, splattering milk on the floor. “I was next door setting up a new bed for Mrs. Potter. She will be moving from the Hotel to next door. I want to keep these rooms available for patients needing care that aren't disaster related.”

  “And the little boy?” Robert pointed up the stairs, “Is he yours?”

  Hattie mopped the milk up from the floor. “For now.” She broached no further discussion as she put the wet towel in a basket off to the side and turned to Robert. “Ready to begin?”

  “Where do you need me?”

  “Well, I need to take Kijab over to Miss Victoria's before we head to the saloon. She is going to watch him until supper time. Once we get to the saloon we'll figure out the best place for you. The worst of the patients are over there - the ones that can't be moved or aren't able to return home or to the care of a loved one.” She proceeded to climb the stairs, ignoring the moaning coming from the room. “Let me gather Kijab's things and then we can be off.”

  Hattie disappeared through a door at the top of the stairs and Robert realized that was where her living quarters were. While she was gone it afforded him an opportunity to look around.

  The apothecary was a large room with a counter area shaped in an L and shelves lining the wall. The shelves contained a mixture of glass and metal containers and smaller jars. Robert walked over and picked one up. The name of an herb and its uses were written on a slip of paper and tucked inside the bracket on the front of the container.

  “Catmint,” he read. “Detoxifies, Helps Nervous System.” He replaced the jar and picked up another “Lady's Ferns. Lack of appetite, fever and cough.” He continued down the row, reading each label and its intended use.

  Robert was fascinated. Some of the herbs he had never heard of, and he had never seen a place like this back in Boston. The smaller jars contained oils - lavender, tarragon, orange, rose, pine and several others, including a few he knew from the Bible - frankincense and myrrh. Hattie must have been wearing the lavender when he first encountered her.

  He recalled Hattie providing the pine oil to the lady at the inn. When he returned from his dinner the room had an earthy clean smell with undertones of pine. Hattie was right, he couldn't tell that there had been a sick person where he was about to sleep.

  He noticed a small scale on the counter with a basket of tins the size of a matchbox. Next to it was a folded piece of paper. He opened the paper, reading its contents.

  ----Western Union Telegram-----

  To: Doctor Harrietta Morningsong Richards, SilverPines Oregon STOP

  Received your request. STOP

  Several candidates in the area. STOP.

  Expect someone by mid-May. STOP

  Sending supplies. STOP

  Would like you to mentor and assist finding a suitable town for new practice. STOP.

  I have faith in you. STOP. Doctor B. Morris STOP

  -----End-----

  He folded the telegram back up and twirled it in his fingers as he continued to look around the room.

  On the other side of the room, chairs lined up against the wall. There was also a small cast iron wood stove with an iron firebox on it. Behind the firebox was a glazed bowl with steam rising from the warm water. As Robert moved closer a sweet smell of floral and pine delighted his senses. It wasn't overpowering, just enough to bring a calming effect.

  Passed the stove with its fragrant steam were two doors. One the little boy had emerged from earlier. Robert peeked into the room. It was an examination room, very similar to those at the hospital. The examining table had been pushed to one side and converted into a makeshift bed. Cots filled every additional space in the room with small paths between the beds.

  The same smell tickled his nostrils but this time the scent of sickness mixed with it. Another moan emitted from the second room, along with a string of curses that would make Robert's mother blush. Robert went to investigate and saw a man of at least fifty-years laying on the examination table converted bed. The man had dirt caked in his hair, and Robert could see it down his neck into the sheets. His leg dangled over the side and Robert gagged at the smell of rotting flesh.

  In the hospital they used menthol or camphor under their noses to disguise the smell. He wondered if Hattie had any in her stores. If this was the odor of one person, Robert didn't know how he would manage en masse.

  “Doc,” the man whispered.

  Robert stepped into the room, forcing his breakfast to remain intact. “I'm here.”

  “Doc,” came a more ragged whisper. “Come here. I need to tell you something.”

  “What is it, old man?” Robert leaned closer to listen to him.

  “That Injun is trying to poison me. Wants to cut into me and drink my blood. You can't let her.”

  “I don't think that is it,” Robert began.

  “Doc! You listen to me. That no good Injun is a savage. She don't give me nothing for my pain, she is starving me. Did you see her ingredients out there? I tell ya, she is trying to poison me! She gave me this terrible brew this morning. And look at my leg. She did that. Made me a cripple with her tending.”

  Robert was furious. Healers, although not medical doctors, still took a responsibility to protect their patients. Why was she letting this man suffer like this? And why was his leg in such horrible shape? He would address it with Hattie as soon as she came down those stairs. This was no way to treat a patient, no matter his age.

  Chapter 2

  Hattie looked at herself in the mirror. She looked tired. Bags were starting to form under her eyes.

  Her memories were divided between before-the-disaster and after-the-disaster. Before the disaster she was looking forward to leaving Silverpines and finding a community of her own to set up a full-fledge doctoring practice. She had completed four years of her five-year mentorship under Dr. Hamilton. He was killed by the murdering son-of-a-biscuit, Charles Little, that had terrorized the town and set his cap for Betsy Pike before the new Marshal arrived and swept her out from underneath Charles' evil plan.

  After-the-disaster, she was now stuck in the town where she had an overabundance of patients that didn't view her as a real physician, yet looked to her as a rescuer from the aftermath of the earthquake. These were the same people that looked at her and shook their heads at the sight of an Indian healer in the town, or looked at her in shame, before the disaster, because they were getting their doctoring from her instead of the real doctor.

  She was a real doctor, but most didn't know it! She went to university just as Dr. Hamilton had done and she completed all her classes with honors. She recalled the excitement of moving West and bei
ng mentored under a respected town physician. She recalled the conversation that morning as she arrived by train and Doc Hamilton met her at the station.

  “Dr. Richards! I must say I was surprised to hear that they were sending a woman out this way!” He looked her up and down as if she was a prized stallion. “It is a savage land out here. Lots of men, lots of drinking, lots of danger for a woman doctor. But I guess, since you are half-savage you'll fit right in.”

  “Pardon me?” Hattie was used to men calling her out on her native heritage, but to hear that from a professional such as the doctor, was unexpected. “I heard you were much respected back at University.” He nodded. “So, what happened? The man I'm seeing before me doesn't appear to be the same man I heard the stories about.”

  Dr. Hamilton reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Hattie noticed him placing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. When he removed the linen, his eyes took on a glassy sheen and he leaned back up against the wall of the railway station for support. He stared at Hattie a moment before letting out a half-bark, half-laugh and grabbing her bag. “You have spunk, Harriet. I gotta give you that. Don't go letting me call you a savage get you all riled up. It is just the way we speak out here.”

  “Doctor, are you inebriated?” Hattie called, trying to keep up with his longer strides. Doc Hamilton turned and raised one eyebrow. Hattie swallowed and wiped her hands on her travelling dress. “It appears that whatever you have on your handkerchief is affecting you.”

  “Don’t you ever question me again, Miss Richards. I am the doctor here.”

  Hattie stood a little taller, meeting the man’s glassy gaze.

  “Doctor. My name is Dr. Richards. I am not a savage, I was raised with a family of missionaries that travelled the Mississippi and shared the good word.”

  “A Christian, eh?” He appeared thoughtful for a moment. Hattie nodded. “That's unexpected, if I do say so.” Resuming his stride, he shrugged his shoulders, “Well, Dr. Richards, you aren't a doctor out here until I say you are a doctor. You must get through five years as my assistant before you can claim that title. The folks out here aren't as open minded as I am. So, it will take a while for them to come around. Until then, no point in confusing 'em. Harriet, it is. And no need to go talking about anything that is none of your business. Do you understand?” Hattie opened her mouth to respond but closed it after the dark look Dr. Hamilton sent her way and gave a slight nod instead.

  “I prefer Hattie, if you please.”

  “I please very much,” he nodded. “Hattie, then. Let's get you settled.”

  Hattie shook off the memory and grabbed a tin of salve from the shelf underneath the mirror, dotting a few dabs under her eyes. It didn't do anything for the dark circles, but it did make her skin brighter. It would have to do.

  Usually she didn't bother to apply creams or such, preferring to leave her skin just washed. What made today different?

  Hattie wasn't fooled. She was doing this because of the handsome doctor downstairs. Definitely: this was an after-the-disaster moment. When she walked into the apothecary and saw him, not a single coherent thought formed in her head. Instead, she scampered upstairs like a rabbit dodging its hunter.

  “Mama.” A voice grabbed her attention and she quickly finished up her toiletry. “Mama,” the tiny voice repeated.

  “No, not Mama. Hat-tea,” Hattie said pointing to herself.

  “No. Mama,” the small child said, pointing to her and motioning to be picked up.

  Hattie sighed. Kijab was very clingy since Alexzander brought him into her office the day after the disaster. He was found in the base of a tree that withstood the sliding mud. He was only found because one of the rescuers heard his cries. His mother's body was curled around him when he was pulled from the debris. Unfortunately, she didn't survive. The rescuers informed Alexzander and he immediately brought the child to Hattie, thinking that someone of similar features to his mother might provide him comfort until they could get word to the surrounding tribes that a small child was found.

  If it gave him some comfort to call her Mama, she wouldn't fight it. There would be plenty of time to correct him later. Hattie knew she was going to have to find his tribe soon. She just wasn't ready.

  As she reached for the child, she was mortified to notice the milk had made her blouse translucent. What must he think? She thought she blotted out most of the moisture, but the milk sugar started to form a ring at the edges of the stain. She sighed and picked up Kijab before gathering the bag she placed his supplies in for the day at Victoria's house. She wasn't angry with the child, he was just happy to see her. It was just setting her tone for the day that had already begun in the early hours before dawn. Kissing the boy on his head, she headed downstairs to continue her day.

  Dr. Childs was nowhere to be seen. As she placed Kijab on the counter and handed him a toy, Hattie noticed her jars askew and the basket of tins disturbed. She felt her pressure rise. This was her sanctuary, her domain. She didn't want anyone, not even a handsome doctor, touching her items. She rearranged the jars back to her liking, and started folding the sheets, placing them in her basket, when she heard him call her from the second examination room. Oh, bother, he had been in with Sneaky Pete, one of the miners that took delight in vexing Hattie.

  “Miss Richards,” Robert greeted her as he came out of the examination room. “May I speak to you about the patient in there?”

  “What is your question, Dr. Childs?”

  “The gentleman in there tells me you are poisoning him and refusing to treat him properly. “

  Hattie shrugged. “Is that what he told you?” Robert nodded in unison with Sneaky Pete. “Then it must be so. Before we make our rounds, let me ask you a question. Did you go through my jars on the shelf?”

  “What of it?”

  “Dr. Childs, this is my office. What you did in Boston is none of my affair. However, when you are in my domain, please respect my things.”

  “Of course,” Robert nodded his agreement. His meek woman had a temper. Woah, he thought. When did he start thinking of Hattie as his woman? Robert knew the moment he first saw her in the picture.

  “Now,” she continued, “if you did go through the jars, then you would have seen that each herb or oil has specific properties for how they heal. This is no different than your fancy medicines in the hospital. These are just given to us by God to use for healing.

  “As for poisoning Mr. Pete, I am not. He simply doesn't like the taste of the bitters.”

  “What about his leg?”

  “What about it? I've cauterized his wounds. The decayed flesh is gone, and he is starting to heal. I am watching it for an infection. Anything else?”

  “It looks like it should have been amputated.”

  “Well, then you should have arrived two weeks ago.” Hattie walked over to the door and peeked in on her sleeping patient. The valerian root was doing what it was supposed to. Mr. Pete's eyes were closed, and his breathing was heavy. Hattie tucked his leg back in under the blanket and left the room. She knew she would have a good four hours before he started to stir. They would have to hurry, as Pete was in rare form today.

  “Let's move,” was all she said as she picked up the boy, his bag, and her basket of vials and jars. Robert attempted to take the basket from her. She refused to budge and after a heartfelt, “please,” she finally acquiesced and let Robert carry her doctoring kit. She noticed he had a worn black leather bag with O. Childs, MD embossed on the latch.

  Hattie locked the door and headed up the road. There was already a sign in the window saying she would be at the saloon until noon and for patients to check back in after that.

  “Where are we headed to first?”

  “After we drop this squirmer off,” she laughed as Kijab tried to wrestle from her grasp, “we will go to the saloon. In the basket there is a small tin of salve you can use under your nose. The smell is rather ripe.” She adjusted Kijab on her hip and continued. “There are
about 30 people still left at the saloon. There are 15 in Doc Hamilton's office, 4 at the hotel. No, actually three, because Mr. Harvey passed yesterday. And that leaves Sneaky Pete Winters at the apothecary. The rest have returned to their homes, if they weren't destroyed, or are staying with a care giver. I check on them when I can.”

  “When do you sleep?”

  “When I can. This is important work, Dr. Childs. The Lord sent me this test and I must follow it through, no matter what. I will sleep when it is time to sleep. There hasn't been much rest for anyone during the aftermath. If they can't rest, why should I? I am fortunate that there are people who have been willing to help, and now you are here, Doctor.”

  “Please call me Robert.”

  “I prefer Dr. Childs. It sets the boundaries for our relationship, don't you think?”

  Robert was taken aback. He had never had anyone want to maximize the boundaries. In fact, back in Boston, there were women trying to push the boundaries of familiarity. It was a refreshing change. “As you prefer.”

  “Tell me, Doctor, did you bring any supplies with you?”

  “No. I brought just what was in my bag. I was under the impression that the current physician's office was fully stocked.”

  “Was, being the appropriate word.” Hattie shifted Kijab from one hip to the other. “Everything was used during the disaster. We ran out of chloroform rather quickly, as the supplies were low to begin with. Now we are down to the last of our bandages and I've gone through almost everything in the apothecary. I thought supplies were being sent.”

  “Perhaps they are still on the train?” Robert offered hopefully. “I know that there wasn't much room on the coaches coming from the train station so quite few trunks were left behind. I just don't recall Dr. Rhodes mentioning an extra trunk.”

  “That would make sense. I'll have Marty go check it out as soon as he can. Who is Dr. Rhodes? I'm not familiar with that name.”

  “The head of Boston Medicine.”

  “Jumpin' grasshoppers! Boston? That is a big city. Much bigger than the small town in Pennsylvania where I'm from. Well I'm lucky to have you here.”