He snorted. “I don’t know if you know this, Miss Nelson, but your father’s methods are published in many a forum in the East and are a major factor why my sponsor sent me here. I look forward to meeting him.”
“I am sorry that won’t be possible.” She trudged up the few steps to the colonel’s front door and paused on the stoop. Clearing her throat, she fought to summon words she didn’t want to say while battling an onslaught of tears. If she let one go, the floodgates would open. “My father passed on a fortnight ago.”
Clenching her hands into fists, she braced against the sympathy that was sure to follow, for such would be her undoing.
But a gleam brightened the doctor’s green gaze. “You are quite the enigma, Miss Nelson.” He pushed open the door. “After you.”
For a moment, she stood, mouth agape. Was everything about the man unpredictable?
Inside, a makeshift office transformed the foyer. The doctor stepped up to a soldier perched on a stool behind a desk. “Dr. James Clark and Miss Nelson to see Colonel Crooks.”
The man didn’t so much as look up from a stack of papers. “Can’t you see the colonel’s got a mess of murderers out there to deal with?”
“Do you think he’d rather deal with the dysentery and typhoid that are even now infecting every soldier in this fort?” The doctor’s words fired out like a round of grapeshot.
Emmy lifted her hand to her mouth, hiding a smile.
The soldier jerked to attention. “Who’d you say you are?”
“Private!” A muttonchopped man wearing colonel stripes at his shoulder leaned out an open door down the hall. “Just send them in.”
Emmy clenched her skirts. This was it. Meeting with the commanding officer would change the course of her life—and not in a direction Aunt would approve of.
Should she go through with this? Could she? How did one agree to care for a people who’d stolen Daniel from her so long ago?
James strode through the colonel’s door, directly behind Miss Nelson’s swishing skirts. The colonel stood near a hearth, lifting the flaps of his dress coat so the heat warmed his backside. He eyed them upon entrance, yet said nothing, the pull of his sideburns accenting a glower. Except for a gilt-framed painting of the crossing at the Potomac, a clock ticking away on a facing wall, and a mirror opposite a window, the walls were as barren as the man’s manners, for he had yet to acknowledge them personally. James expected a certain lack of etiquette out here in the wild, but was this what military life would be like?
Stretching himself to full height, James executed a salute he’d practiced to perfection back at Cambridge. “Dr. James Clark, reporting for service, sir.”
The colonel dropped his flaps, his boots tapping out a cadence on the wooden floor as he crossed to the window. With one finger, he swept aside a curtain and studied the commotion on the grounds.
And still, the man said nothing.
Miss Nelson exchanged a glance with James, her brows lifting. Clearly she desired him to break the standoff, yet what more should he say? Dr. Stafford had prepared him for many things on this adventure that were “for his own good,” but a taciturn officer wasn’t one of them.
“I’ve been expecting you these past four weeks.” The colonel’s voice ricocheted off the glass. He and Miss Nelson flinched, but the colonel didn’t seem to notice, for he continued, “Though I suppose the route here was a bit … disturbed.”
That put it mildly. A steamship with an unsalvageable boiler. The coach with a broken axel. Dead oxen. Cholera at a wayside. Indeed. Fighting the urge to scratch the stubble on his jaw, he maintained his ramrod stance. “It was a piecemeal journey at that, sir.”
The colonel allowed the curtain to fall then pivoted. His gaze slid from Miss Nelson to him. The clock ticked overloud. Angry voices pelted the building from outside. Yet the colonel held the deadlock of stares. What in the world went on behind those gunmetal eyes? If he intended a dressing-down, then why not have at it?
“I can see more information will not be forthcoming until you are released, so at ease. The both of you.” The colonel swept his arm toward a few empty chairs as he moved behind his desk. “I expect doctors to be boorish at times, but oughtn’t you introduce your wife instead of relegating her to anonymity?”
James choked, glad for the sturdy wooden ladder-back beneath him. Miss Nelson blanched to a fine shade of parchment.
“I am sorry for the misunderstanding, sir.” He shifted in his seat. “But this woman is not my wife.”
Across from him, the colonel’s face darkened. “Then you are worse than boorish. We may be on the edge of civilization, Doctor, but we are neither lawless nor immoral.”
In the chair next to him, Miss Nelson strangled a small cry.
“No! Nothing like that.” Heat crept up his back, his neck, his ears. Sweet mercy, but it was hot in here. “Allow me to explain.”
The colonel sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Fire away.”
James tugged on his collar, coercing words past the embarrassment tightening his throat. He could only imagine the discomfort Miss Nelson felt—for he refused to look at her. “When I arrived just a few hours past, I came upon Miss Nelson caring for a sergeant’s wounded leg.” The colonel pierced the woman with a gaze as sharp as a bayonet. “What the devil?”
Miss Nelson leaned forward. “Two of your soldiers retrieved me from Mendota, sir. I am Dr. Edrith Nelson’s daughter. He’s recently passed on, so I came in his stead, being your doctor had not yet arrived.”
“I see.” The colonel sucked in a breath so large, his chest expanded to the point that he might burst. At last, he stood and rounded the desk, offering his hand to the lady and helping her to her feet. “In that case, I thank you. Your willingness to rally to our aid is appreciated, especially at times such as these.”
James rose, unwilling to have a lady stand while he sat. Whatever the manners might be out here, his would not falter.
Miss Nelson dipped her head. “I am happy to serve anyone in need, Colonel.”
“You are a credit to your father, Miss Nelson. I shall have a lieutenant see you home.”
James snapped to attention. “Sir, I request that Miss Nelson remain, and she’s agreed.”
Dropping the lady’s hand, the colonel swooped over to him like a great bird of prey. “What’s this?”
“I cannot tend both the military and native occupants of this fort single-handedly.” He worked his jaw, for it galled him to have to repeat his earlier words. He’d been beholden to a lady once before. Never again. Still … He set his jaw. “I need Miss Nelson’s help. She’s proven to be a valuable assistant.”
The colonel shook his head. “That may be true, but as I said, this is not a lawless garrison. Only married women or slaves may reside inside these walls.”
Miss Nelson lifted a hand toward the window. “Yet you’re allowing an entire population of females to stay the winter, many of which are neither married nor slave.”
James clenched his teeth, biting back a smirk. Intelligent and plucky? What other qualities did she hide behind those long lashes?
The colonel narrowed his eyes. “They are captives, Miss Nelson. They do not fall into the aforementioned categories.”
James grasped the opening that might be the colonel’s undoing—though insubordination might very well earn him a night’s stay in the brig. “My understanding, sir, is those natives had nothing to do with an uprising and, in many cases, aided the settlers in escaping. You pride yourself on maintaining a lawful camp, yet I ask you, is justice served by locking up those that are as innocent as the victims of the massacre?”
“They will not be locked up, Doctor. They are free to come and go, though it is for their benefit to remain inside the encampment down on the flats.”
“And it is to the fort’s benefit if Miss Nelson remains as well.”
The colonel’s nostrils flared. A bullish snort followed. “It is for the safety of the lady that she be escorted t
o her home.”
“Upon my word, Colonel, I will vouch for the lady’s safety the entire time she’s here.” Immediately he stiffened. That had either been the most noble vow he’d ever given—or the most foolish.
“This is highly irregular!” The commander’s voice bounced from wall to wall.
Yet Miss Nelson gazed quietly out the window. “So is that.” She indicated with the tip of her head.
“My dear.” Once again the colonel reached for her hand, patting it between his. “Life is hard here, and with winter coming on, it will only get worse.”
She lifted her chin, and James couldn’t help but marvel.
“I understand, sir, but is it not true that God doesn’t always call us to the comfortable places?”
With a long sigh, the colonel released her and turned to James. “Keep your eye on this one, Doctor, for she knows her own mind, and quite possibly the mind of God as well. I will hold you fully accountable for her as long as she’s here. Is that clear?”
He nodded, stiff and curt, unsure if he should shout a victory cry or hang his head in defeat. After the death of his parents, he’d been responsible for his hellion of a younger sister, and been glad of it when he finally handed her off to a husband.
Hopefully Miss Nelson would be easier to keep track of.
Chapter Three
A rap on the door startled Emmy awake. Rising, she rubbed a kink in her neck from a fitful first night at the fort then lit the lantern on the nightstand. Guilt had nipped her for displacing the dispensary’s steward, but after sleeping on a mattress that hadn’t been re-ticked in at least a year, she understood his eagerness to leave these quarters and move in with the smithy.
“Five minutes, Miss Nelson.” Dr. Clark’s deep voice seeped through the door. “I’ll await you by the front gate.”
Shivering, she dashed the few steps to her trunk, grudgingly left behind by Jubal. Good thing she’d fallen into bed exhausted last night, for if she’d taken the time to undress, she’d surely be frozen by now. The small hearth had given up its ghost of warmth hours ago. She donned a few more layers then, with a quick snuff of the light, dashed off to meet the doctor.
Outside, a few resolute stars lingered in the predawn sky. The first brittle notes of “Reveille” marched across the compound from a bugle boy atop one of the lookout towers. Emmy drew alongside the doctor where he stood next to the massive fort gates. He snapped shut a pocket watch and tucked it away.
“I hope you won’t make tardiness a practice, Miss Nelson.”
His green eyes bore into hers, but there was a smile at the edges. Picking up his kit, he offered his free hand and aided her through a smaller opening cut into the wooden ingress.
The sentry’s gaze followed their movement, and he shut the door behind them.
Her steps, two to the doctor’s one, crunched on the frozen weeds, flattened by yesterday’s procession. Grey light colored the world and her mood. The closer they drew to the encampment, the slower her pace. Forgiveness was one thing. Forgetting, quite another. It wasn’t this tribe that had taken Daniel’s life, but she still felt somewhat a traitor for tending to the “enemy.”
Shoving down the feeling, she hurried ahead, surprised at how much ground the doctor had gained. “When you said you wanted an early start in the morning, you might’ve told me what time to expect. It will be a wonder if anyone’s even stirring in the camp yet.”
“Which is the best time to make our rounds unhindered, and after making diagnoses, we’ll use the rest of the day to administer treatments.”
The trail skirted the fort’s rock walls, just like her mind circled the doctor’s words, trying to make sense of them. Ahh. Of course. Understanding dawned as bright as the orange band rising on the eastern horizon. She peeked up at him. “I gather you’re accustomed to a hospital setting.”
“I am.” He paused at the apex of a sudden sharp descent in the trail and once again offered her his hand. “It’s a bit treacherous here. Hold on.”
His fingers wrapped around hers, and as they picked their way down to the river flats, he righted her when a rock gave way or her shoe caught in a dip. Each time, the strength in his grasp warmed through her gloves and burned up her arm. A base reaction, surely. His attention couldn’t mean anything, for had he not sworn to the colonel to see to her safety? Even so, she liked the way their fingers entwined so perfectly, the way his arm bumped against hers now and again, solid and reassuring.
La! She sucked in a lungful of frigid air, feeling a traitor to Daniel’s memory twice over. Better to put her mind on other things than the feel of this man’s grip.
“Why are you here, Dr. Clark?” she asked. “You don’t seem the sort of man to—”
She clamped her mouth shut. What had gotten into her to speak so freely?
He glanced down at her. “What sort is that, I wonder?”
The first rays of sun stretched across his clean-shaven jaw. His hat rode neatly atop brown hair, brushed back and trimmed since yesterday. Morning light rode his shoulders like a mantle of power. His step was confident, his manners impeccable. She leaned a bit closer and sniffed. Mixing with the acrid scent of early-morning fires rising from the camp, the spicy fragrance of sandalwood tickled her nose, just as she’d expected.
She smiled up at him. “I should think you are better suited to ballrooms and dinner parties than to a rugged outpost in Minnesota.”
He chuckled. “Indeed. You are perceptive, Miss Nelson, and very correct. My time here is a temporary yet necessary step if I’m to be considered for a fellowship at Harvard. Competition for the position is fierce. Most applicants have only book knowledge. I hope to gain an advantage by field experience.”
The trail evened out, and he released her hand. Cold crept up her arm, and she shivered.
Dr. Clark stepped up to one of the armed guards blocking a crude log gate. Withdrawing a signed pass from the colonel, he handed it over.
The soldier leaned aside and spit then gave the paper back. “Don’t know why you want to tend these animals. Ain’t worth the time, you ask me.”
“I didn’t.” The doctor’s tone lowered. “So open the gate and save your commentary.”
The soldier glowered, his skin pocked and ruddy at the cheeks. Red hair, far too long for regulation, shot out from beneath his cap. For a moment she wondered if he’d comply, but with a snap of his head, the other men set about removing the log.
The doctor turned to her with a boyish jaunt to his step. “And so the experience begins, hmm?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. He could have no idea of the apprehension churning in her stomach. Papa would want her to help; Daniel and Aunt Rosamund wouldn’t.
Still, she’d given her word.
As she looked over the slipshod village of buffalo-hide tepees, her gaze followed the rise of smoke curling out the tops like pleading prayers—and she added one of her own.
Oh Lord, please use this experience to benefit Dr. Clark and bring healing to the Indians—and to my heart.
All the pleasantness of walking with Miss Nelson vanished the moment James stepped into the internment camp. Death was in the air, as tangible as the misty vapor snorted out from the horses they passed. Moaning, coughing, retching … the sounds of suffering nearly drove him to his knees.
Clusters of tepees formed a circle on the patch of cleared ground, bordered on two sides by the confluence of the Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers. Good for fresh water, bad for flooding.
Sharp groans from the tent on his right severed his speculations. He met the eyes of Miss Nelson. “You ready?”
She nodded.
For a moment, he paused at the flap of a door. How exactly did one enter such a shelter? There was no knocker or even something solid to rap against. Ought he call a greeting or—
Another cry of pain and he yanked the flap open and dove in.
The stench inside twisted his gut. Good thing he’d not eaten breakfast. A tiny fire burned at the cen
ter, adding fumes to the noxious stink of dysentery. Beside him, Miss Nelson pressed a hand to her stomach, yet did not gag. Two women and three small children huddled on woolen blankets on one side of the tent. A disheveled elder curled into a ball opposite them, releasing another wail.
Reaching into his greatcoat pocket, he retrieved a small pad of paper and a pencil.
Miss Nelson edged closer to him, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Is that all you’re going to do, scratch a few notes? Will you not examine her first?”
“No need. The odor in here and the way she’s clutching her abdomen says it all. The woman has dysentery. I’ll order clean bedding and plenty of fresh water.”
“You might want to add castor oil and ginger to that water.”
He stifled a huff, anything to keep from breathing more than necessary. “Unconventional, but not dangerous. I suppose it’s worth a try.”
Though doubtful they understood, he mumbled a thank-you to the tent’s inhabitants; then he and Miss Nelson retreated outside to the mercy of fresh air. By now, the sun cleared the horizon, washing the encampment in hope—but not for long. The pathetic bawl of a baby pulled Miss Nelson from his side and into the next tent.
He dashed after her and grabbed her sleeve, holding her back. “Stay next to me. Touch nothing.” He didn’t need to tell her to cover her nose, for she pressed her palm against her face.
The stench of death hung low and heavy, thick as the smoke suspended over the fire at the center. On one blanket, two skeletal girls clung to each other, locked forever in a perverse embrace. Sometime during the night, both had passed on. Across from them, a woman lay, staring up at their entrance, a baby crying in her arms. Both wore the first bloom of a spreading rash. Once again he drew out his notebook.
Miss Nelson wrenched from his grasp and darted ahead, grabbing a dipper of water on her way toward the babe.
His heart skipped a beat. “Miss Nelson! If that woman has smallpox, you’ve just exposed yourself.”
She didn’t so much as acknowledge him, just lifted the water to the woman’s lips while she cooed to settle the baby. He watched, horrified and helpless.
Ladies of Intrigue Page 10