Moving from Maryland

by Christine Sterling

  Fish was one of her favorite meals. Especially the striped bass with its mild taste and flaky texture. Ma would make a butter cream sauce to go with it. Since Gracie could never master the delicate sauce, she would wait for Ma to return before attempting to prepare it.

  It wasn’t long before Ma and Millie returned, and dinner was finished and placed on the table. Everyone sat around the long wooden table and held hands while Charlie said the blessing. The gentle chorus of amens was heard and they dug into the wonderful feast.

  Gracie gave a small moan. It had been so long since she had fresh seafood – nearly three years. College fare normally consisted of stews and casseroles due to the large number of students.

  She devoured every bite, including a second serving and when she was done, she leaned back in her chair. “That was the best meal I’ve had in months.”

  “I’m so glad you are home now,” her mother, Carolyn, said, reaching out to grasp Gracie’s hand. “We missed you while you were gone.”

  “Well, I didn’t miss you,” giggled Millie. “I am used to having my own room now!”

  Gracie laughed and ruffled Millie’s hair. Her younger sister just turned seventeen, so Gracie knew how important privacy was at that age. “You’ll just have to make do, won’t you?” Millie gave her a quick hug.

  “I’m sure I can manage. Did you see the Petersons?”

  Gracie suppressed the shudder as she thought about her interaction with Greg Peterson earlier. He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at her… she dismissed the feelings from her mind. “Greg was with his father when they came off the boat.”

  “Stay away from him, Gracie Rose,” Boone warned.

  “Why’s that?”

  “He just got out of prison.”

  “Prison? Whatever for?” That would explain the sunken cheeks and eyes.

  “Attacking a young lady.” Gracie gasped. “Just stay away from him, Gracie Rose. I heard he drinks more than necessary.”

  “I can take care of myself, Boone.”

  Boone raised an eyebrow. “Can you, Gracie? I just don’t want to see you get hurt. And Greg Peterson has a trail of hurt following behind him.”

  “Boone!” Carolyn banged her hand against the table. “Stop talking like that, Boone. I will not have you bringing that talk to the dinner table.”

  “Sorry, Ma.” Boone looked a little sheepish.

  “Gracie isn’t a child. She’s all grown up now. Imagine!” Carolyn gave a little sigh and tilted her head, “We have our own doctor right here in the family.”

  “How about those jobs, Gracie?” Josiah encouraged.

  “I’ve sent out several applications. I’m hoping to hear something in the following months.”

  “Where have you applied to?” Millie inquired.

  Gracie looked at her and raised an eyebrow in mock indignation. “You ready for me to leave already?”

  “Well…” Millie replied. “I do like the extra space.”

  Gracie stood and started to clean the dishes from the table. “I’ve applied to the hospital in Baltimore. A clinic in Tennessee and even as far away as New York! Imagine working in a busy city like New York?” She started stacking the dishes in the wet sink.

  “I don’t like the thought of you being so far away. Even Baltimore is too far and that is in Maryland. Can’t you set up something here? Or even Salisbury? That isn’t too far.”

  “Ma, it isn’t too far. Besides, Crisfield is so small that we don’t need a second doctor.” Gracie looked around the great room. “I really do need to branch out on my own.”

  “You should settle down and get married,” her mother said. Boone and Josiah snorted, earning them a silent reprimand from their father.

  “I’m not ready yet. Besides, if I meet the right person then I might consider it.” She stopped pumping water into the dish trough. “Only if he is all right with me continuing my doctoring. I’m not ready to be a mother.”

  “No one mentioned anything about you being a mother, Gracie,” her father observed.

  “But wouldn’t it be lovely? I can’t wait to have grandchildren.” Carolyn gave Boone a glare. “I can’t count on my sons to get married, and Millie is way too young.”

  Boone hid behind his cup of coffee. “Pickings are slim here, Ma.”

  “Besides, who wants to marry someone that smells like fish?” Gracie teased.

  “Well I’m going to get married,” Millie announced. The room went silent as the family turned to look at her. Millie shrugged her shoulders. “Well not right now. But I want to be a wife and a mother.”

  “And you’ll make a good one, dear,” Carolyn said. “But take your time, and only marry for love.”

  “I will, Momma.”

  “Are you going to see Doc tomorrow?” Josiah asked.

  “I’ll stop by in the morning. I don’t know what his schedule is like.”

  “Good,” her brother said. “I want you to stay here.”

  She had been working at Doc Weston’s office for nearly six weeks, when he came in with the paper. It wasn’t the regular small circulation paper that made its rounds through the Eastern Shore. Instead, it was the Richmond Dispatch.

  “I found something interesting in here, I think you should read.”

  Gracie stopped cleaning the surgical instruments on the tray in front of her to look at the country doctor. “What’s that?”

  “There was an advertisement for a physician needed for a growing town.”

  Gracie nearly dropped the clamp in her hand. She placed it on the tray and went over to where Doc was seated at the table flipping through the pages. “A small town in Virginia? Is it Richmond? Or even Washington, D.C.?”

  “Let me find it. Do you think you can make a pot of coffee? I need it after being outside.”

  Gracie nodded and quickly went to heat the water. She was grateful that Doc allowed her to work at the clinic with him. It gave her the hours she needed to keep her license active, plus she manned the clinic while Doc made his rounds outside of town.

  She still hadn’t heard anything from the jobs she applied to. She figured that the competition was fierce as most colleges finished their semesters in either December or May. She knew she was competing against all the other recently graduated medical professionals; and most of them were men.

  It didn’t take long for her to make the coffee and take a seat across from Doc.

  The man peered over his glasses and looked at her. “How was today?”

  “Not too much happened. Mrs. Williams stopped by. Her boy took a fall, so I taped up his arm and sent them along their way. Nothing was broken. Then Mrs. Bailey came by. Needed a refill on her medication.”

  “Sounds like it was a busy morning.”

  Gracie shrugged. She was very interested in what Doc read in the paper and not so much about discussing the patients.

  Doc ran his finger down the column of classified advertisements. “Ah, here it is. Wanted, able-bodied physician, formal schooling preferred for small town, pop. approx. 1,000.” He looked at Gracie. “That would be the perfect size for you. Not too big, not too small.” He resumed reading. “Must have good character, temperament and be knowledgeable in surgery and healing arts.”

  “I have those. I should apply.”

  “Wait, Gracie,” Doc said as he continued to skim.

  “Wait for what? It sounds wonderful.”

  “But Gracie...”

  Gracie stood up and twirled around the room. “Imagine, a town in Virginia needing a doctor for its 1,000 residents.” She stopped and ran to the desk to grab paper, pen and the inkwell. “I should write to them immediately.”

  “Gracie. Would you listen to me?” Gracie stopped and looked at the doctor. “It says here they want references. Can you get those?”

  “Well, are you able to write one?” Gracie mused.

  “Yes, but you’ll need one from one of the doctors at your school.”

  Gracie nodded. “I have a letter from D
octor Edith Louis that I can send.”

  “Most women didn’t get surgical training in school. Did you have hospital time?”

  Gracie shook her head, disappointed at the question. “Most hospitals were closed to women. I was able to observe a few surgeries though. Not many students were able to participate. Do you think that will disqualify me?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “I might as well not apply then. It would just be another rejection letter in my pile.” Gracie sighed and sipped her coffee. “I might as well have never gone to medical school for all the good it is doing me.”

  “Gracie, one day, your medical skills are going to be needed more than you can ever imagine. It will be, God willing, at the right time and place where you can be the most help.”

  “I know. I would just love to be a resident doctor in a small clinic, like this.” She waved her hands around the room.

  “As we discussed, Gracie, most practices go from father to son. So, unless someone dies, or just leaves, the chances of finding a position in a small town are pretty much… well they aren’t much.” Doc removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose before placing the spectacles back on. “It appears that really the only thing holding you back is that you are a woman. You are perfectly capable of managing an office. You understand medicine and healing.”

  “Well, I can’t change my gender.” Gracie heard the frustration coming through in her voice. She didn’t mean to be snappish with the old doctor.

  “How about, if we write a letter and maybe not use your name, you might have a better chance of being selected.”

  “Not use my name?”

  “I think you should use your initials instead. That way your credentials stand on their own merit.”

  “What a fabulous idea! I can do that this evening.”

  “One more thing, Gracie.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The position is in a little town called Rattlesnake Ridge, Nevada?”

  “Nevada?” Gracie felt the disappointment come up from her belly. “Like out West?”

  Doc nodded.

  If her mother had issues with her going to Baltimore, how would she ever tell them about this?

  Chapter 2

  Rattlesnake Ridge, NV

  April 1872

  Barrett Wright looked at his three sons and tried not to crack a smile. This was a serious matter. Mrs. Daisy Rockford did not look amused.

  “Which one of you decided to put worms in the teacher’s desk?”

  The boys looked at each other and then back to their father, large eyes blinking at him and mouths open in an ‘O’.

  Barrett’s heart clenched. They looked just like his wife. Each of them with dirty blond hair and blue eyes, but that is where the resemblance ended.

  George, named after Eliza’s father, was his first born. At 12, he was the quiet son. Tall and lanky; caught somewhere between a boy and a man. His muscles bulged underneath his shirt and Barrett could swear there was the light fuzz of a beard coming in on his chin. He was always studying. Talking about college and the like. Barrett couldn’t see George digging worms. When did his son grow up?

  Samuel was the middle child at 9. He was quick to anger but wouldn’t think twice of jumping in a fight to defend someone less fortunate. Samuel, however, loved to prank the workers on the ranch. Barrett looked at his middle son. No, he didn’t think Sam had anything to do with the worms in Mrs. Daisy’s desk. This time.

  So, his gaze went to John, his youngest at 7 years old. John looked everywhere but at him. Barrett saw his head turn and pretend interest in something on the far wall. Barrett cleared his throat and John’s gaze snapped to him.

  Barrett took a step forward, cupping John’s chin in his hand. He turned his son’s face from side to side before releasing him with a harrumph.

  “You have dirt on your face,” Barrett told him. John tried to wipe the dirt from his cheek, allowing Barrett to grab his hand and examine his fingertips. “And you didn’t do a good job of washing your hands, did you?”

  Dried mud appeared under John’s fingernails and around his knuckles. John shook his head but didn’t say a word. Barrett turned his son around and had him face the desk. “Mrs. Daisy, I believe my son has something to say to you.”

  Mrs. Daisy sat straight up in her chair, her hands in her lap. “Yes, John?”

  John fidgeted, so Barrett gave him a nudge on his shoulder. The small boy looked at his father and then back at the teacher. “Sorry, Miz Daisy.”

  “Sorry for what?” Barrett prompted. John mumbled under his breath. “What was that?”

  “Sorry for putting the stupid worms in your desk,” he blurted. He turned back to Barrett. “Can I go now?”

  “No, you can’t. You are going to stay here and clean Mrs. Daisy’s desk until she is satisfied there aren’t any more worms in there. Then you’ll do whatever else she decides as punishment.”

  “Ah, Pa! Whitey Carmichael dared me!”

  “And you were caught. So, the punishment is yours.”

  John eyed his teacher skeptically. “What are you gonna make me do?”

  Mrs. Daisy looked around the room, before returning her gaze to John. “I think an afternoon of washing off the slates would do you good.”

  “Awwww…,” John kicked his foot along the ground. “That is woman’s work.”

  “Be quiet,” Sam whispered to his brother through clenched teeth.

  “Well then, John,” Barrett said thoughtfully. “I suppose you can clean the desk and then we can go home, and you can be punished there.”

  John’s hands immediately went to the seat of his dungarees as if trying to protect his posterior. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  “That’s my boy. We’ll talk about your attitude when we get home.” He turned to the teacher. “Miss Daisy, I have to go over to City Hall. They want me to look at the responses for the doctor advertisement. You okay with John here, or do I need to stay?”

  “I’m sure we will be fine,” Daisy said, standing to take John’s hand. “Why don’t we go get the bucket so you can take those worms back outdoors.”

  “Do I hafta? We could go fishin’ with those worms.”

  Daisy laughed. “I don’t think you are going fishing anytime soon.”

  Barrett could still hear the conversation as he and the other two boys left the small schoolhouse.

  “Are you gonna thrash him?” Sam asked.

  Barrett sighed. “No, I’m not.”

  “We didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

  Barrett stopped and looked at his son. “We? What do you mean we?”

  “Nothin’. I didn’t mean nothing.” There was no use trying to get information from Sam.

  “George, do you know anything?”

  “No, sir.” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his overalls, pulling the fabric down so the straps were tight against his shoulders. “I was reading, so I didn’t see everything that happened.”

  “You were reading poetry to Ellie Mae,” Sam teased, sticking his tongue out at his brother.

  “Why you, little…” George started to reach for his brother. Sam danced out of his brother’s grasp.

  “Stop it!” Barrett commanded. “Both of you, right now, get back to the ranch and start cleaning out the stalls. Then you can get your lessons done.”

  “But, Pa!” they said in unison.

  “Don’t ‘but, Pa,’ me. George, you can take the wagon. Tie Poe to the hitching post in front of the sheriff’s office.”

  George took off for the wagon with Sam racing behind him. He could hear Sam yelling to his older brother to slow down.

  He shook his head and stopped in the mercantile to drop off a letter. Olivia Handley was dusting canned goods as Barrett placed the letter on the counter.

  Barrett silently groaned. He was hoping that Mr. Handley would be working, as he wasn’t in the mood to field any of the questions Mrs. Handley might ask. She was a town busybody and gossip. The last t
hing he wanted was his private business being broadcast through the streets. It was bad enough that his boys were the topic of gossip because of their behavior. He was hoping this letter would correct that.

  Mrs. Handley stepped off the stool and picked up the letter, glancing at the address. “Mr. Wright, I don’t believe we’ve seen you in here for the longest time. You always send your man into town. Oh, what is his name?”

  “Jasper. Yes, he runs errands for me.”

  She tapped the letter against the counter. “That’s right.” She paused and looked at the letter again. “But you brought this yourself. It must be important.”

  “Mrs. Handley, I need to get to City Hall. Can I get enough postage to send that to South Carolina?”

  Mrs. Handley ignored him and read the address out loud. “Louisa Abernathy? Isn’t that Eliza’s sister?”

  “Yes,” Barrett didn’t want to answer any questions as to why he might be writing his wife’s sister.

  Since Eliza died five years ago, it had been hard enough to raise three boys on his own. He thought it would be good for the boys to get to know their kin. When a telegram arrived from Louisa, hinting at making a visit out, Barrett decided to extend the invitation to stay with him and the boys.

  He hoped she would arrive sometime in the summer. That way the boys could entertain her since school would be on a short break.

  “I said you should consider getting married again. Those boys need a mother. Why just last week I was telling…”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Handley, but I don’t have any intention of falling in love.”

  Mrs. Handley looked at him. Her lips were pursed and her brow tight. “Who said anything about love, Mr. Wright? Convenience is what I’m talking about. It isn’t right.” She pointed her finger in the air. “You are raising those boys all by yourself.”

  “I’m not prepared to discuss it. My boys are just fine.”

  “Are they? They probably wouldn’t get into so much trouble if they had a mother looking after them.”