He kept grinning as he untied her medical bag from the horn of his saddle.
Van ran up the steps of the house and started to plow into the door when it swung open. The man in the doorway caught Van by the shoulders to steady him, though he looked unsteady himself.
"About time you got back."
"How’s Kurt?”
"Bad."
Rebekah took her bag from Jimmy and climbed the steps in the light from the lamp shining through the doorway. The man in the doorway jerked back and eyed her up and down. It was always surprising for people to see a woman doctor. But she'd never had to overcome this prejudice in her night robe, and with a man who was hitting the bottle hard. That never helped any situation.
"I understand you have an injured man here."
The man looked between her and Van, his jaw shifting in disbelief and, if Rebekah read him right, boiling anger barely contained. His eyes were bloodshot from the whiskey she smelled on him.
Van spoke fast. “Clem, this is the doc you wanted me to bring back. Doc Beck.”
Clem glared at him. "I didn't tell you to bring a woman here. And a Mexican woman at that." Clem stared at her. “Or something. What are you, anyway?"
“I’m a doctor."
"She has a funny last name," Van said.
Clem’s dark brown eyes were tinged with red, like smoldering coal. He opened his mouth to say something, but a yell behind him cut him off. It sounded like a wounded animal, but Rebekah knew from her years of practicing medicine that this was a human in pain.
A voice came from inside the house, “Hold still, Kurt! Stop trying to get up.”
“Where’s Clem?” A trembling voice croaked.
Rebekah knew it was her patient, and that she was capable of helping him. But she held herself from forcing her way inside.
Clem looked behind him toward the voices, then back at Rebekah. It wouldn't be the first time someone refused to allow her to treat their loved one.
Rebekah calmly gestured to her medical bag. “I’m ready to do what I’m qualified for, if you’ll permit it.”
Another yelp sounded and a door in the room directly behind Clem jerked open and another man stood there, hair mussed.
"Clem! Is that Van back with the doctor?"
Clem glared at Rebekah again, his face granite.
"Yeah, Woodrow. It is."
Once she crossed the threshold into the ranch house, Rebekah blocked out Clem’s drunken fury, Van’s unsteadiness, and Woodrow’s shocked expression and focused on getting into the room with the injured man as quickly as possible.
It turned out to be a bedroom that had once seen a woman's touch. Blue floral damask wallpaper was peeling and there was a rip in the matching curtains. A red velvet wingback chair sat next to a full-size bed situated in the middle of the back wall.
A young man lay on his side, his back arched, face whiter than the pillow beneath his head. It looked as though the sheets hadn't been washed for sometime, either.
Rebekah went to the side of the bed and noted the nightstand with an uncorked whiskey bottle and shot glass. She knocked the shot glass onto the floor, causing a clattering sound through the room amidst the cries of the young man. She set her medical bag on the table and began rolling up the sleeves of her robe.
Gaze still on her new patient, she asked, “What's his name?"
While Clem, Van, and Jimmy stayed close to the door, Woodrow came around the other side of the bed.
"Kurt." His voice sounded strained and tired.
Rebekah put her hand on the young man's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Kurt, I'm Doc Beck. I'm here to help."
He let out a long sigh. Rebekah ran her hands along his spine, pressing once. He jerked away, squeezing his eyes shut. She put a soft hand on his shoulder and glanced up at Woodrow. "What happened?"
Clem took two long strides into the room and gripped the frame at the end of the bed, shaking it. "Don't matter, lady. You just fix him up, and right now."
It wasn't the first time she'd heard this kind of demand. These men were doing something wrong when the injury occurred. Judging from the rips in Kurt’s clothing and the gray dust, she guessed it was from being dragged by a horse. Or falling off a cliff. She would probably never know the full story. Getting Kurt to a place where he was out of pain and on the way to healing was her primary goal.
Rebekah turned to her bag and pulled out a packet of the newly formulated aspirin. She squared herself with Clem as he stayed hunched over the bed frame, watching her.
“What has to be done will take a steady hand, something none of you seem to possess. Please leave.” She nodded at Jimmy. “Except him. I need him to hold the lamp close.”
Clem didn't break eye contact, leaning in as though to intimidate her by sheer force of will.
Rebekah held his gaze. “Please leave.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Woodrow clench and unclench his fists. But he said nothing. Rebekah was sure Clem flicked a glance at him, then said to her, “All right, lady doctor. You just see to it my brother walks out of here."
Clem released the frame with a shove, shaking the bed as he stepped back. He jerked his head at Van and Woodrow, gave Jimmy a hard look, and exited.
Once the three were out, Rebekah nodded at the door, telling Jimmy, “Close it.”
Chapter Three
Rebekah had seen this sort of injury before. It crippled many cowboys for life and it could very well do the same with this young man. Under normal circumstances, there would be very little she could do other than recommend he be taken to a hospital back east at the cost of thousands of dollars for specialty treatments and surgeries.
She highly doubted the oldest Baxter boy was interested in hearing about it in the middle of the night out in the Texas Panhandle. She did have another solution. It was risky and experimental and there were those with far more knowledge and experience than she had, but they weren't around. It wasn't something she could talk to Clem about. That left her with getting the patient’s permission before proceeding.
Since she said she needed the boy, Jimmy, to stay in there with her, she put him to use. “Take that lamp off the wall and bring it over here. I need better light."
While Jimmy complied, she leaned over Kurt and gripped him by the shoulder again. He moaned and her heart ached with its usual compassion at seeing someone in pain.
"Kurt, your back is severely out of alignment. I know maneuvers that can possibly straighten it out. It's risky, but there's no other way I can get you out of pain and walking again. Do you want me to try?”
Kurt cracked his eyes open just a touch to reveal the same brown color as his brothers, and red. Not from tears. They’d given him too much whiskey.
His eyes darted around. Jimmy leaned over him with the lamp and Kurt spotted him. He stammered, "Where…where's Clem?”
“He's right outside. He told me to get you well. I'm going to do the very best I can. All right with you?"
Kurt closed his eyes again and gave a short nod. "Whatever Clem says."
Rebekah took a deep breath and motioned at Jimmy. “Hold that lamp up just above him so that I can see his entire body."
Rebekah carefully rolled Kurt onto his stomach. She’d practiced a chiropractic adjustment with the doctor who had studied the science behind it. She wasn’t an expert but confident enough in her knowledge of the human body to do maneuvers to realign Kurt’s spine.
She started with a massage, feeling the popped out vertebra. She crossed her hands over one another, took a breath, and push down quickly. A pop sounded and Jimmy mumbled, “Ouch.”
After massaging another one back into place, Rebekah noted Kurt was breathing easier and his body finally relaxed. She rolled him flat on his back and cleaned the cuts and bruises on his face.
“You should be able to walk in a few days.” Unfortunalty, she wouldn’t be around to see Kurt get out of that bed. She had a train to catch in the afternoon.
Jimmy looked reli
eved when she told him he could set the lamp back on the wall. He gave a little whistle. "You sure did a good job, ma'am. Just like a regular doctor."
Rebekah chuckled. People had said worse things about her as a female physician. “You are a flatterer, young man."
She glanced toward the closed door, knowing the Baxter boys would want word about their brother, but she was going to take these precious few moments to do what she had intended when she retained the boy. Jimmy was different than the Baxters, and she wanted to know how deep his loyalty ran in case she needed it.
The Baxters were a tough lot, especially Clem and Van, but she didn’t fear them. Few things frightened her. Her mind was simply on leaving this place as soon as she could to get on with her mission. This boy might help with that.
She moved her bag to the dresser close to Jimmy and took her time recapping the alcohol bottle she’d used to clean the cuts.
Rebekah chose her words carefully. "How did a nice young man like you end up with the Baxters?"
Jimmy peeked into her bag, curious, and shrugged.
“Honestly, ma'am, I’d planned to leave the ranch sometime ago. But I had this nagging feeling that God wanted me to stay. Now I know why. " He looked at her with a smile as though she should understand.
Rebekah cocked her head. “Why is that?”
"He wanted me here to help you."
Rebekah started to chuckle, but the seriousness of Jimmy's face held her in check. He took his faith to heart, a rarity in this sort of setting. She didn't want to mock it, even if she didn't share it.
"I see. You've been a valuable help, Mr. Jimmy.”
He gave her a wide grin. "Thank you, Doc Beck…What did you say your name was?"
“Dr. Rebekah LaRoche.”
“La what?”
“I’m part French.”
“You don’t sound French.”
“Parlez-vous français?”
He gulped. “I’ll stick with calling you Doc Beck.”
She put the bottle in her bag and patted his arm.
“Miss Rebekah will suffice.”
“You speaking French again?”
Rebekah chuckled. He was intelligent, if not well educated. “‘Suffice’ does have its roots in Old French but it’s purely English. It means calling me Miss Rebekah is just fine.”
She headed for the door. “It’s time to tell Mr. Baxter that his brother will sleep well tonight.”
In the sitting area that she originally come through to the bedroom, the three Baxter brothers came to their feet. Woodrow asked, "Kurt going to be all right?"
Rebekah nodded. "Everything went well, but he should remain in bed for the next two days. Please see that he doesn't move around. I'll keep watch over him tonight, and then I must leave in the morning. I have a train to catch in Amarillo. Goodnight."
Without waiting for Clem or anyone to give her permission, Rebekah went back into the bedroom, dismissed Jimmy, and curled herself up to sleep in the red velvet wingback chair next to the bed. She’d slept in worse conditions before.
Chapter Four
Before dawn, Rebekah was awoken by the bedroom door being opened. She jerked and watched Clem Baxter bend over his sleeping brother in the darkness, a stream of light coming in from the lamp in the sitting room.
"He doing all right?"
Clem looked haggard. Rebekah wasn’t sure if he was hungover or had continued drinking all night. Either way, she didn’t want him disturbing her patient.
Rebekah held in a stretch, remaining in the chair, hoping he would quietly leave. She said softly, “He slept fine, but he needs more rest.”
Thankfully, Clem left with little noise, leaving the door open. Rebekah caught the smell of bacon sizzling on a stove. But she didn't care to take breakfast with these men, nor wait for daylight to leave.
She stood, stretched, and shook out her robe still secured over her nightgown. She checked on her patient who was sleeping soundly, then repacked her medical bag and snapped it closed, catching sight of herself in the mirror over the vanity by the wall.
What a fright. Her long sable brown hair was a tangled mess from the night ride, her eyes swollen from lack of sleep. She had her father’s eyes, brown with a hint of gold. Her skin was the same shade as his, leading Clem to mistake her for Mexican until he looked close.
Rebekah quickly did what she could to her hair, knowing it would be wrecked again on the ride back into Amarillo, especially if she were transported the same way she got there. She checked her pocket watch. 5a.m.
There was little hope of reaching the Garland home before dawn. She resigned herself to being gawked at when arriving in town in her nightgown and robe. At least she was leaving Amarillo and wouldn’t return, unless her sponsor sent her there.
But he had sent her on another mission and it was time she got to it.
Rebekah picked up her heavy bag and went into the sitting room. To the right was an alcove with a kitchen and long table where the Baxter boys were gathered around with platters of bacon and biscuits. It looked like Woodrow was the cook. He shoveled scrambled eggs from the skillet onto plates in front of Van and Clem.
Woodrow, tall and lean, glanced up and nodded at her. "Clem says Kurt is going to be all right."
Rebekah stifled another yawn. “He does need to stay in bed and should be seen by another doctor in two days. But yes, I believe he will make a full recovery."
Woodrow motioned with the skillet toward an empty chair at the table. “Sit down and have a bite, Doc.”
"I would prefer to go on back to town now. I can take breakfast there and sleep until my train. Do you have a buggy or wagon that Jimmy could take me there in?"
Van started shoveling the hearty breakfast in, but Clem sat hunch over his plate, staring at it. He said, "You're staying here until my brother gets out of that bed."
Rebekah kept her expression neutral, not entirely surprised by the cold words. Still, her stomach tightened. “As much as I wish that were possible, Mr. Baxter, I have a train to catch. My services are needed in Zapata, New Mexico Territory and I must leave on this afternoon’s train."
Clem rose from his chair, giving his plate of bacon and eggs a shove. Woodrow halted by the stove, iron skillet still in hand as he looked between his brother and Rebekah.
Clem spoke slowly, accentuating his long draw. "I said you're staying here, lady. And what I say goes in this house."
Rebekah weighed her options. Would he physically force her to stay if she walked out the door? The look in his eyes gave her the answer.
Woodrow shifted, putting him a foot closer to his brother, skillet in his right hand and held a little higher.
"Clem, you can't keep this woman here against her will. If she wants to leave—”
Clem turned on his brother, drawing his six gun and cocking it. Van halted, fork midway to his mouth. Woodrow didn't move and Rebekah recognized an intense battle in his eyes. She held her breath.
Woodrow glanced at her, then back at Clem before taking a slow step back to the stove and settling the skillet on it. He stared at it as Clem said, “Don't you ever do that again, Woodrow Baxter."
Rebekah backed toward the bedroom door, keeping her movements even. Clem jerked his head to glare at her, gun still out. He was hungover, but she had a feeling he could shoot what he aimed at.
She stepped carefully across the threshold, not looking at it. Clem barked, “Van, you keep an eye on her. Don't let her go anywhere without you knowing."
There was no argument and moments later, Van appeared in the doorway with his plate of bacon and eggs, giving her a look that said he blamed her for interrupting his hot breakfast.
Rebekah turned back to the bed where Kurt was still asleep, oblivious to his brothers’ conflict. Just as well. Rebekah felt Kurt was a sensitive soul, dying to please his brothers. She wondered how he survived in a family like this.
***
After the confrontation at breakfast, Rebekah had dozed off in the wing back c
hair. The room was lit with dawn when approaching steps alerted her.
Jimmy came through the door, arms and hands full as he sidestepped Van who didn’t stir from where he’d dozed off in a chair he dragged in from the sitting room. Kurt was still asleep.
Rebekah scrambled to her feet, blinking as Jimmy approached without his grin. He must have heard what happened with Clem and Woodrow, but he made an effort to sound cheerful as he held up his load.
"Thought you might want some breakfast, ma’am, and fresh clothes."
In his arms was a bundle of clothes and in his hands, he balanced a plate of bacon and biscuits and a tin cup of coffee.
Rebekah quickly took the food and cup before he made a mess. "You're very kind, Mr. Jimmy.”
"Oh, no ma'am, it's just Jimmy. No mister to it.”
“Well, Just Jimmy. Thank you.”
He grinned. “‘Just Jimmy.’ I like that, Doc. I want to be known as a fair and just man.”
“A very fine ambition.” Unfortunately, he wouldn't see it modeled on the Baxter ranch.
When Jimmy left, Rebekah used the closet to change into the men’s clothing. The closet was larger than she thought it would be, and over half empty. No women’s clothes, only two trousers and shirts hung on hooks and a musty smelling brown coat.
Rebekah slipped out of her robe and nightgown to pull on the clean white shirt that looked about Jimmy’s size, along with a pair of his trousers. He must only have possessed one belt, because her outfit included a short rope to hold the tan trousers up. She hardly needed it. Jimmy was as slender as she was.
It was wholly improper for her to wear trousers and she felt ridiculous, but they were practical.
The afternoon passed slowly. Kurt woke, but said little, his expression miserable. Rebekah had a feeling it wasn’t from pain, especially since she gave him more aspirin. Likely, he feared the coming displeasure of his brother for doing whatever he’d done that caused his injury.
Van moved into the sitting room, though he ordered her to stay in his line of sight at all times. That limited Rebekah to moving between checking on her patient and the wing back chair. She insisted on going to the outhouse without accompaniment, to Van’s grumbling.
Canyon War Page 2