Moving from Maryland

by Christine Sterling

  “George, why don’t you help me with this part? Can you pour about half of the liquid from the coffee pot into this small pitcher?”

  George nodded, happy to help. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around the handle. He gently poured the cooling wax into the pewter pitcher. He looked inside the pitcher and then poured a bit more. “Now what, Gracie?” he asked.

  “Can you place it back on the stove and then crumble those yellow flowers into the mixture?”

  “About this much, Gracie?” George said, holding out a handful of the dried blossoms.

  Gracie nodded and turned to the other two children. She lifted the cheesecloth from the pitcher, which removed the dried flower stems and any particles that didn’t disintegrate. “Okay, John, you can go first. Let’s pour this into the tin.” She pushed the tin closer to John and put her hand over his smaller one to help him guide the liquid into the tin.

  “Okay, Sam, your turn.” She repeated the process with Sam. “Now, let’s leave those there until they harden.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to just purchase that? I know the mercantile has something like that for sale.” Louisa said.

  “I’m sure you would know everything that is sold there,” Mrs. Parker said under her breath.

  Gracie tried not to giggle. She wasn’t about to tell Louisa that she was the one making the salves for sale at the mercantile. It brought in a little extra money, since most of her patients still paid her in crops, wood, chickens or eggs.

  Louisa looked at Mrs. Parker. “Is my toast nearly ready?”

  “I could smell the coffee from all the way in the bunkhouse,” Jasper said, entering the kitchen. “What’s going on here?”

  John leaned over the table and blew on the tins for a few minutes. Grace laughed. It would take a lot more than John blowing on the salve for it to solidify. The boy looked up at Jasper. “We’re helping Gracie make stuff for Pa. Aunt Louisa is complainin’ an awful lot, and Mrs. Parker is making her something to eat.”

  “I am not,” Louisa said. Suddenly, she placed her hand over her mouth and ran from the room. They heard the sound of her bedroom door closing and then retching from behind the wooden door.

  “I wonder what that is all about?” Jasper said.

  “Probably all the excitement from yesterday.”

  Jasper looked at her but didn’t say anything. He scratched his head then shrugged his shoulders.

  Gracie saw Mrs. Parker looking at her. The older woman shook her head and turned back to the stove. “I don’t think Miss Louisa is going to be eating this bacon, so I wonder if there is anyone who might like it?”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice,” Jasper said, turning the chair around and straddling it.

  “How many times have I told you not to do that, Jasper Williams?”

  “Too many to count, ma’am. And you’ll probably have to tell me again.”

  The boys were busy fussing over breakfast, so Gracie strained and packaged the rest of the salve.

  “I went in to see Barrett. He is still asleep,” Jasper said between bites of the bacon. “Is there anything I can do for you today, Gracie?”

  “I don’t think so. If you wanted to take the boys to the creek, I know they would like it and I think it would make the house a bit quieter.”

  Sam stared at Gracie in deep thought. “Why don’t you get mad at us, Gracie? Aunt Louisa always seems mad.”

  Gracie gave him a little side hug. “It is probably because I grew up in a house with brothers, so I know what young boys are like.”

  “How about we go fishing today?” Jasper said, draining his coffee cup. The boys yelled their excitement.

  “Hoorah!” they said in unison.

  “Go get on your old clothes. John? Are you in charge of getting the worms?”

  John nodded and ran out of the room. His brothers soon followed.

  Jasper handed Mrs. Parker his cup. “We’ll be back later. Maybe we can even catch enough fish for dinner tonight.” He gave Mrs. Parker a quick peck on the cheek and was gone.

  “He certainly is good with those boys,” Mrs. Parker said.

  “Hmmm,” Gracie agreed. “Do we have some hot water? I think I need to make Louisa that tea.” Gracie added dried ginger to a cup along with some honey and mixed it with the hot water. I’m going to go check back on Barrett. Is it alright if I leave these tins here to continue to cool?”

  “Of course. I’ll be making bread shortly, where do you want me to put them? I’ll be using the table.”

  “They’ll be hard in about 5 minutes. I’ll come back and grab them.” Gracie went down the hallway with the cup of ginger tea. Louisa wasn’t in her bedroom.

  She heard the sound of crying coming from Barrett’s room. Louisa was seated next to the bed, holding Barrett’s hand.

  “I brought you some ginger tea,” Gracie said. Placing the cup on the table next to the bed. “It will help settle your stomach.”

  “I bet you are judging me. I come all the way out here to marry Barrett and look at me.” She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “I’m crying at the drop of a hat. I’m retching before I’ve had anything to eat. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  Gracie rubbed her back gently. She didn’t want to ask, but she felt she had to. “How far along are you?”

  Louisa looked at her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “It may make you feel better,” Gracie gently offered.

  “No, it won’t. This the only family I have left, and I won’t do anything to lose it.” Louisa got up and headed towards the door. “Make sure he gets well, Doctor.”

  Chapter 11

  The boys were in rare form that evening. They came back from fishing with Jasper and managed to drip creek water from the door to the kitchen.

  The flopped the fish on the table until Mrs. Parker demanded that they be taken outside and cleaned. Even when they were eating the delicate trout they caught in the stream, it was like they had one speed and one volume.

  Gracie was happy when they finally settled down to get washed for the evening and head to bed. Gracie reveled in the silence. Living alone, she was grateful for the boys visiting. Being with them around the clock, she decided she would need to find a compromise if she was to continue staying there.

  Who was she kidding?

  As soon as Barrett woke up, she’d be returning to the clinic. Louisa wouldn’t let anything come between her and Barrett getting married.

  There was something that just didn’t add up about Louisa’s pregnancy. Louisa most definitely had a small belly. She was complaining that she couldn’t fit into her corsets anymore.

  Gracie read that most women didn’t start showing until further along in the pregnancy. Like around 12 weeks or so. Of course, those statistics were written by men, who had never carried a baby. What would they know about it? thought Gracie.

  Twelve weeks… Louisa arrived in July. That meant she had only been in town for no more than seven weeks. It was impossible that Barrett could be the father of her child.

  Gracie wondered what Louisa’s story was.

  Perhaps something happened back East, and she was running away from it. Either way, Gracie knew that trying to get information out of Louisa would be fruitless.

  Gracie decided to make up the chaise into a bed again. She had to ask Mrs. Parker for additional linens and a pillow since she used hers to prop up Barrett’s legs. She was exhausted.

  Spending most of the previous night awake to watch Barrett, meant she had minimal sleep.

  Spending most of the day dealing with Louisa sulking and the children being children, meant she was feeling rather cranky.

  After making the bed, she checked Barrett’s feet to make sure the blood wasn’t pooling in his feet. She would wait until Jasper was available to check Barrett’s backside.

  Gracie prided herself on what she called her two brains. The clinical brain, which thought of Barrett as nothing more than a patient, and the emotional bra
in which saw him as a man.

  Right now, she was Clinical Gracie, where all she was concerned about was his health. Emotional Gracie could come later.

  She learned to compartmentalize when she was a doctor. It made it easier to deal with the people around her – pushy professors, sick patients, men who blatantly disregarded her as a doctor.

  Gracie looked back at Barrett. Time was moving very slowly. She checked his breathing and his pulse and palpated his belly. He didn’t seem to display any injuries Gracie hadn’t noticed before. If there was something happening internally, outward appearances would have displayed symptoms by now.

  Gracie tried to stay optimistic about him waking up. She recalled reading that when a body underwent extreme trauma, the brain would shut off most systems in the body to concentrate on healing. She read of cases that lasted 24 hours to one that lasted two years.

  She was more concerned about what would happen when Barrett woke up. Would he be able to walk? Would he know who everyone was? Gracie sighed and picked up a tin of the salve she and the boys made earlier that day.

  She dug her fingers into the soft wax and rubbed it between her hands. She started with Barrett’s foot and legs and began to rub the salve into his skin. Arnica was one of the mountain herbs she learned about in school.

  Gracie felt fortunate that Dr. Wicks kept a full apothecary. She also found several medical catalogs so she could replace the herbs as she needed them.

  When she was done with one leg, she moved to the other. She didn’t want the muscles to weaken. Barrett was in top shape, physically, so he had that in favor of his recovery.

  As she massaged the salve into his skin, she started softly singing a song. It was the same song that her mother sang to her when she was a child.

  Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears; While we all sup sorrow with the poor; There's a song that will linger forever in our ears; Oh! Hard times come again no more.

  When she reached the chorus, she let her voice sound a little louder. 'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary, Hard times, hard times, come again no more.

  When she was done, she went back to humming the tune while she finished up applying the salve to his shoulders and face. She went to go wipe her hands and saw John standing by the doorway.

  “You sure can sing awful pretty, Gracie,” he said.

  Gracie wiped her fingers off on a towel she had at the foot of the bed. When she was done, she tossed it over her shoulder. “Thank you. My mother would sing it to us when we were little.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “The song? It’s called “Hard Times Come Again No More.” It is by a famous composer named Stephen Foster.”

  “What’s a composer?” Sam appeared from behind the door and stood next to his brother.

  “It is a man that writes music.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Gracie thought for a moment. “I guess so people can really enjoy it. Like how you enjoyed me singing it. The music tells a story.” She went and turned both John and Sam around so they could head down to their room to bed. George was in the hallway, already heading towards their room.

  She knew the boys had already said goodnight to Barrett. They stood around him and rubbed his hands, telling him all about trout fishing with Jasper.

  “You should be in bed by now.” Gracie said. Honestly, she wanted them in bed. She knew she was going to fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillows.

  “Can you tell me a story?” he asked, his eyes opening wide.

  “I told you one earlier,” Gracie said. She spent part of the afternoon telling them about a little girl named Alice that fell down a rabbit hole and went on grand adventures. John was mesmerized by every word she spoke.

  “How about a story with fights?”

  “Fights?”

  “Like where two people fight over the pretty lady?”

  “Yes, please, Gracie.” Sam and George joined in the pleading.

  She looked at the chaise. It was way too small for all of them. “Let’s go to your room, and I’ll tell you a story there.”

  Gracie made the boys get into bed with the covers tucked around them. Then she sat on a wooden chair between John and Sam’s bed.

  “How about I tell you a story of a French man and the adventures he had trying to make his way in the world.”

  “Is there fighting?”

  “There is plenty of fighting, John,” Gracie laughed. “So, we begin in the city of Paris, France, where the young master d'Artagnan tried to join the elite squad of King’s Guards.”

  The boys sat there listening to Gracie tell the story of d'Artagnan and how he met the Three Musketeers. “Athos, Aramis and Porthos,” John repeated back to her.

  “That’s right.”

  “Were they brothers?”

  “They could have been. They were the best of friends.”

  “Like us!” Sam exclaimed.

  “Yes. Quite a bit like you.”

  Gracie continued with the story and it wasn’t long before the boys were asleep in their beds. Gracie tucked them back under the covers and blew out the light. She said a little prayer for the boys on her way to Barrett’s room.

  When she got to the room, she noticed that Barrett wasn’t in the same position as when she left him to go to the boys’ room.

  “Barrett,” she said, leaning over him. “Can you hear me?” He didn’t respond. Gracie gently shook his shoulder. “Wake up, Barrett.” His arm had definitely moved. Gracie laid it on top of his chest when she was done tending to his bruises. She knew that involuntary muscle spasms could have caused the arm to fall to his side, but not to fall and point outwards.

  “Please, God,” she pleaded. “Please help him pull through this. You are the Almighty Healer. Please heal him.” Gracie felt tears rolling down her face as she pleaded out loud. “I relinquish everything. Louisa can have it all, if you just let him live.”

  It was too late to get Jasper and tell him what happened, so she pulled the chaise closer to the bed and sat on it. She reached out and took Barrett’s hand in hers. “I wish I knew you could hear me, Barrett.”

  She leaned into the arm of the chaise, not letting go of his hand. If she needed to sleep like that, so be it. She felt his fingers squeeze her hand. It was ever so slight. She thought she imagined it at first.

  Gracie breathed a sigh of relief. She knew he would recover.

  Barrett still hadn’t awakened. It had been three days from the time he fell off his horse. He didn’t squeeze her fingers again and he started running a fever.

  Gracie’s only positive was that she hadn’t seen Louisa in a few days. She had taken to her bed, according to Mrs. Parker.

  Gracie went through the items that were left from her doctoring bag. She was out of morphine, syringes and herbs. She was going to have to go to the clinic and get more supplies. But first she’d have to deal with the fever. Gracie found Jasper in the kitchen with a stack of papers in front of him.

  “What’s that?” Gracie asked seating herself across from him and the children.

  “Just some papers for the ranch. I can’t make heads or tails of them.”

  “Are you looking for something in particular?”

  “A bill of sale for one of the bulls. Tuck and Smithy are going to deliver it to a ranch, but I don’t know where.”

  “How about I help you find it. Do you need it right now?”

  “They’re not leaving for a few more days.”

  “Okay, we can go through them this evening. I came in to ask if we have any more ice. I need to bring the fever down. Is there any more left in the ice house?” Ice house wasn’t a true description of it. It was more of a big hole filled with sawdust and ice with a small shed on top.

  “There might be a little, how much do you need?”

  “As much as possible. We are going to pack it around him. I’m worried that something I can’t see is happening to him.”

  “George, come with
me and we’ll get the ice. I’ll have the boys help carry as much as we can get.” He patted George on the back, and they headed out towards the barn.

  “How about you boys help me find some bags, so we can put the ice in it?” The boys nodded and followed her back into the bedroom. Gracie looked around for something she could use to set the ice up against Barrett without it injuring his skin.

  Pillowcases.

  They were just the right size and she could form them to his shape. “Can you go and grab as many pillowcases as you can find? We are going to need at least 6.”

  “Can we take them off the pillows?”

  “Yes, please. And bring them right back here.”

  The boys nodded and were off like a shot.

  It didn’t take long for Jasper to come back to the house carrying a bucket of ice. He was followed by several other ranch hands and George. One of the men had a full block of ice he carried using a tool that looked like metal picks.

  “Start filling those pillowcases with ice,” she directed. The man with the picks, she learned his name was Tuck, broke the block into manageable chunks so Gracie could put them in the linen covers. She gently placed them on his sides, tucked under his arms. She used a small one to put under his neck.

  Once all the bags were filled and placed along Barrett, there was nothing to do but wait.

  “I think your Pa would like it if you talked to him.”

  “Can we rub his hands again?”

  “Of course.”

  The boys sat around him, careful of the ice that was melting into the mattress. They told him about their day – helping Gracie tear linens and make salve, feeding Poe, the horse; baking cookies with Mrs. Parker.

  Apart from a few finger movements, Barrett was still non-responsive.

  Gracie soon felt the fever subsiding, so she gathered up the ice bags and put them in the buckets left behind. She hoped that she wouldn’t need to use them again but was glad to have them there if she did.

  Barrett appeared to be resting again. He didn’t have any twitching of his eyes or jerking of his hand. Gracie went to the kitchen in search of Jasper.