by Dallis Adams
“It was Uma’s idea. I make Cryptians wait before writing down their complaints. By reading a few pages of a story, many times the person forgets their grievance, or decides it isn’t that big of a deal. Instead, they ask to borrow the novel. I’ve got a sign-up sheet on the wall if you want to borrow one.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea. Uma?” Lala called with a sly slant of her lips. “Will you come over here and read this book? You might forget your grievances with Doc Elroy.”
“Ha! Trying to use my own devices against me?” Hands on hips, Uma frowned at her friend. “Be careful, Lala, or I’ll make you eat dandelions. That ne’er-do-well won’t be off my list until I see his tail between his legs, running into the Redwoods to never return.”
Jack rubbed the side of his face, a sign he was confused. “Why? I’ve known the Doc for years, ever since I was a kid. I’m the reason he’s now a part of Cojocaru’s.”
Doc Elroy? The fact that Jack was calling the reprobate by his first name after the honorary title that the man didn’t deserve wasn’t lost on Uma. “You’ve known him for years? Why haven’t I seen him until now? I’ve been married to you and therefore in Cryptic Cove for five months now and I’ve never run across him until today.”
Jack tilted his head to study her, his eyes intent. “That’s because he’s been on his own circuit. And he was only hired early last winter to be part of the circus.” His gaze bored into hers. “Uma? What is this about?”
“He’s responsible for my stepsister’s death. Eleven years ago was when Tiffany died. She was on her way to recovery after a bout of typhoid fever. But he insisted on dosing her with his elixir, which killed her. He was run out of New York City. Jack, the man doesn’t know what he’s doing, or anything about elixirs or how to use them for cures. He’s a sham.”
He rubbed the bristles that had grown since his shave earlier this morning, a shave she’d given him. “Are you sure? I’m sorry about your stepsister, but typhoid fever is a serious disease. It weakens internal organs. Her heart could have just given out.”
She barely heard him because her ears were roaring. “I’m sure. Why are you defending him? Why are you calling him by his first name? Either you consider him a member of Cryptic Cove and are following law number one, or you are being friendly to an enemy of mine.”
“Enemy of yours? Aren’t you being a little dramatic?”
“Of course I am. You knew this about me … that I’m dramatic, especially about causes. I fight for the downtrodden, for the those who can’t defend themselves. Tiffany was a young defenseless girl. I fought for her and I still am.”
“Of course you are. And I admire you for that. But the situation with your stepsister might have been unavoidable. Most likely nobody could have saved her. All I know is that typhoid fever is hard on the liver, the heart, the lungs. Unfortunately, I’ve known people who have died of typhoid.
“In fact, there is a pond about thirty miles east of here that has a sign to warn travelers not to drink out of it because it has the filth in it that causes the fever. You can’t say with certainty that Doc Elroy caused your stepsister’s death.”
She knew he was probably right. But she wasn’t ready to agree with him. More to the point, she wasn’t ready to let go of the old grudge. “It was just too coincidental that shortly after he gave her his so-called remedy that she died. Besides, have you ever seen him take his own medicines?”
“Yes, and it made him sprout longer nose hairs, and turn green.”
“What?”
She realized he was holding back a grin. She wasn’t in the mood to be cajoled, to hear jests. “Where are your scissors?” she asked, even as she spied them on his desk where he’d been cutting out news clippings of the latest bank robbery. She began unwinding her hair from her coiffure.
“Why do you want scissors?” Jack asked, curious.
“Because I’m going to cut off my hair.”
“What! Why? I love your hair. I love wrapping it over my wrist when we’re wrestling in bed.”
“No more,” she told him, heart in her throat. “I’m in mourning. My husband is in cahoots with my worst enemy. So I’m going to show my sorrow like the gypsies do.” She took a hunk of hair in one hand, and held the scissors about ten inches from the end of the lock.
“Don’t you dare.” Eyes wide, he quickly snatched the hand that held the scissors. With his other hand, he plucked the tool away from her grasp. With a deliberate move, he opened the drawer to his desk and slipped the scissors inside before closing it with a thump.
She heard Lala sputtering from where she sat against the brick wall, obviously trying to keep from laughing.
“I blame you and Orchilo for teaching Uma your infernal gypsy traditions,” Jack said, shaking his finger at Lala. “Uma. Come here.”
Before she knew what he was going to do he’d wrapped his arms around her, and hugged her tightly. Then he kissed her temple and nibbled a trail to the edge of her mouth. His warm breath and moist lips combined with tiny nibbles of teeth caused all thoughts of nefarious doctors to fly away. “I love you, Uma.”
“Well, I don’t know if I love you. At least, not today,” she replied in a tone a little too breathless for her liking. Why couldn’t she hold onto her anger when he started getting intimate? Was it because the kissing and petting was new? No, she didn’t think she would ever get used to the feelings he invoked in her.
How plain her life had been until Jack stepped into her world. The past several months had been bliss for Uma. She’d never known the intimacies shared with a husband could open up a whole new realm of emotions that would make her fall even more in love with him. Every day was filled with new experiences with Jack in her bed. She blushed even thinking about what they’d done together in the privacy of their chambers earlier that morning. How he’d kissed her … there.
“I knew Jack would cause all of your ire for Doc Elroy to fly away,” Lala murmured with a laugh.
Her words brought Uma back to the present. “Lala? Shut up.”
Lala sighed and then leaned back on the ladder back chair. She retrieved a Beadle and Adams dime novel.
Uma pushed Jack from her. “So,” she said, remembering her question. “Why haven’t I seen … Elroy until today?”
“Because he doesn’t stay with the carnies in Cryptic Cove throughout the off-season.” He nibbled on the soft, sensitive lobe of her ear, then dipped his tongue inside, causing rivulets of shivers to course down her spine.
What was she saying? His nearness intoxicated her, more than any morphine or whiskey concoction that the doctor could make. That thought jolted her to awareness. “So he isn’t a member of Cryptic Cove.”
“Nope.”
“Then why are you calling him Doc Elroy? How do you know him? And why on earth would you recommend him to Spiridon Smith?”
He ran his hands down her arms. “Doc Elroy has been in and out of Cryptic Cove for years, for as long as I can remember. I got better acquainted with him a few years ago when he came to see my father. And you know what? He talked a lot about your mother.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve seen him off and on throughout recent years. I even met up with him when I went to Silverberry, Montana. Both of us wanted to purchase mustangs from the Blooms. The family is reputed to raising the best mustangs.” He blew in her ear and nibbled on the sensitive shell.
“If this kissing session is going to get more intense, I recommend that you take it to your bedroom.” Lala said, humor lacing her tone.
Heat rose to Uma’s face. “Jack! Stop it. This is important.”
“So is spooning.” When he looked up, he must have read her determined expression because he sighed and stepped back, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck. “What do you want me to do about Doc Elroy?”
“Make him leave. He’s taking advantage of Cryptians by promising he can stimulated good health. In other words, making false claims.”
“Did he treat somebody recently? And did that person
die?”
“If you consider ten years recent.” She scowled, irritated that Jack didn’t immediately jump on the bandwagon. “Like I said, Tiffany had been on the mend. She was weak but she was recovering. However, when Doctor Traver, which was the name he’d been going by at the time, talked Madam Wigg into using his elixir to speed up her recovery, she had a negative reaction to the stuff and died shortly afterward. Wiggie managed to get the New York mayor at the time to exile Traver-Now-Hancock from New York City. I thought that was the end of his practice. But the reprobate simply moved out here and continued his duplicitous ways.”
“I’m sorry about your sister,” Jack repeated and rubbed her back in soothing, circular motions, making her sigh.
“Me, too. That was why Tillie moved in with Rebecca, Sally and me. Tiffany had been our roommate. I was lucky to have Tillie share a bed with me after losing Tiffany.”
“That’s horrible to have to have gone through the loss of your stepsister.” Lala’s expressive eyes darkened.
“Ah, Uma, sweetheart,” Jack murmured. “That must have been difficult to watch your dear stepsister die like that.” Jack tucked a lock of hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear.
“It was. And I don’t want anybody in Cryptic Cove to experience the same thing.”
“Honestly, I don’t know if we can do anything about it.”
Uma blinked at him, not understanding. “You’re jesting. You have inane laws about kissing and courting and Cryptians calling each other by their given names. Why not something important, like protecting Cryptians from taking medicine that will do harm?”
“Because there isn’t proof that the medicines are harmful.”
“Laudanum is mixed with whiskey, or at least that was what Hancock was doing ten years ago in New York City.” She stepped back so she could think without Jack distracting her, and shook her finger. “And if you know anybody who uses laudanum, you’ll recognize the unnatural craving the users have. Mixing it with whiskey, well, the person is bound to have problems, especially if said person uses it regularly. The well-known British physician, Thomas Trotter, wrote an essay about excessive alcoholic consumption being a disease because of its addictive qualities that some people can’t tolerate. Never mind opium or laudanum. It’s simply ridiculous for anybody to consider alcohol, laudanum, opium or other such mind-altering drugs to have healing qualities. Oh! And don’t get me started on morphine. It is highly addictive.”
“Still. There’s no proof your sister died from his ministrations.”
“The proof is when Cryptians keep coming back for more and more bottles of the stuff, even when their ailments are gone.”
Jack’s gaze softened. “You are so smart. You’ve studied this a lot.”
“Tiffany’s death motivated me to find out what I could about drugs.”
“I’ll do what I can. I’ll keep a close watch on Doc.”
“Thank you.”
He nibbled a trail of kisses down the side of her neck, causing her thoughts to scatter. What else was she going to tell him?
“Oh!” she said as she remembered, moving away from him, at least as far as he would let her since he still had his arm wrapped around her waist. “And did you know that he offered to take care of my feminine hysteria? What a nincompoop. Fobbing off women’s opinions as hysteria.”
“I love your feminine hysteria,” Jack murmured as he nuzzled her ear with his warm lips, sending sparks of awareness down the side of her neck.
“Good. Because I’m not sure I like your masculine hysteria.”
“Men don’t have hysteria.”
She thought she saw a glint of humor in his eyes, which caused a burning in her chest. “Are you teasing me?”
“No. I’m serious. Men are much more grounded than women.”
“Excuse me? What do you call the episode when Luther ran down main street, screaming his head off when he thought he saw his mother’s ghost?”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that little stunt Orchilo played on him.”
Uma shared Jack’s grin as she remembered how Orchilo dressed as a ghost, painting white-wash on her face and wearing strips of white sheets. Luther hadn’t gotten along with his mother when she was alive. Uma supposed his relationship with her would be even worse in death. If one believed in ghosts.
“Or when Orlando Cruz went crazy because Zada painted hearts on his favorite trousers? Or when Harlan threw a fit because he thought Rick cheated him at cards?” She scoffed. “Men have hysterics worse than women.”
“It’s true. They do.” Lala said.
“Some men,” Jack agreed.
Just then nine-year-old Rush Ludermann pushed open the door to the sheriff’s office. Face red, blue eyes wide, he ran toward Jack. “Sheriff Jack! You gotta come! Mr. Orlando is beating the heck out of Doc Elroy. The Doc’s minions are whacking Mr. Orlando with sticks.”
Four
“Gentle, charming Orlando Cruz?” Uma exclaimed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without a smile on his face, even when Rosia is trying to get a rise out of him.”
Appalled, worried, Uma charged past Rush, with Jack and Lala at her heels. When she reached the crowd, she pushed her way through only to see Doc Elroy dodging Orlando’s swinging fists.
Angela Wicket was hitting Orlando on the back with a broom, although her actions hadn’t seemed to slow Orlando down any. Another fellow who was obviously with the doc’s medicine company — if his waistcoat with the words Hancock’s Cures embroidered on the back was any indication — thumped Orlando with a walking stick. He was the one who’d said Angela was beautiful after her spiel.
Uma stepped forward to stop the melee, getting ready to use her years of training to subdue the combatants, but Jack wrapped his hands around her waist, stopping her forward movement.
“Whoa, Tiger. I’ll do the honors of diffusing this.”
“But, Jack. He’s much bigger than you. You’ll get hurt.”
“And you won’t?” he asked, his voice rising nearly an octave.
“I’m much shorter, which is an advantage because I can get inside his fists and stomp on his instep.”
He gave her an incredulous look. “You aren’t doing anything of the kind. We’ve had this discussion, and since I’m the Sheriff and your husband, it is my job to protect not only this city but you, as my wife.” With his large hands anchored around her waist, he gently pushed her aside.
She growled in irritation. When was Jack going to accept that she wasn’t a wilting flower in need of protection?
Just as Hancock employee lifted his walking stick, Jack snatched it from his grasp and tossed it away. Then, he moved in front of Doctor Hancock. Orlando took another swing at the doctor. Jack hooked his thumb under Orlando’s and clamped down on the meaty part of Orlando’s thumb, below the joint. He twisted the enraged man’s thumb inward while grabbing his elbow. Continuing to twist his thumb, Orlando cried out and crumpled to his knees.
Now, why hadn’t she known about that particular move? She promised herself she would learn it for herself.
“Dejame ir,” Orlando said in Spanish through gritted teeth. “Let me go.”
“Not until you’ve calmed down,” Jack replied, keeping the pressure on the panting man’s thumb.
I’ll only calm down after I’ve bashed in his face,” Orlando retorted. “That so-called doctor reached up Rosia’s skirts and touched her, well in a place only a husband should touch.”
“Orlando, querido,” Rosia Cruz called out from where she stood in the crowd. “Elroy Hancock is a doctor. He was helping me with my feminine hysteria.”
“Why are you allowing him to treat you?” Uma asked as she stepped in front of Rosia to address her. “Catalina is more knowledgeable in herbs and natural remedies than Traver.”
“Who is Traver?”
“Him.” She pointed at the man who now went by Hancock. “His name used to be Elroy Traver. Which begs the question. Why would he change his name unless he had s
omething to hide?”
“What’s in a name?” Doc asked. “A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet. I changed my name because Hancock sounds more distinguished. Traver just didn’t have a ring to it.”
I’m certain she can help you with any feminine problems you might have.” Catalina Navarra was Nelson’s and Devlin’s mother. Five months ago, before Uma and Jack had married, Catalina had made a salve for Uma’s burns she’d gotten on her first day of teaching.
And the previous month, when Uma had particularly bad menstrual cramps, Catalina knew just what to do to allieve them. She gave Uma chamomile tea leaves, and made an elixir with dill and cinnamon for Uma to drink several times a day. The dill mixture had also helped with her blues and crabbiness.
“I will not go to that bruja,” Rosia grumbled. “She will only cause me harm because she wants me out of the way. You see, she lusts after my Orlando.”
Again, Uma was thankful for her education from the orphanage. Because of that education, Uma knew that bruja meant witch. Catalina did seem to have an uncanny way of healing people and many of the Cryptians believed in the supernatural. But Uma wouldn’t call her a witch. Because that meant there was such a thing as magic. And Uma didn’t believe in the metaphysical or supernatural. There was always a scientific explanation for things that happened.
Now, that didn’t necessarily mean that everything could be explained through science. It just meant that the phenomenon hadn’t been scientifically discovered yet.
And as far as Catalina lusting after Orlando? No, she didn’t believe that either. Catalina was beautiful, kind and incredibly gifted in healing. Cryptians admired Cat for her uncanny ways with herbal remedies, and Rosia was only jealous.
“Just like Doctor Hancock lusts after you,” Orlando retorted from where he knelt at Jack’s feet as Jack continued to apply pressure to Orlando’s thumb.
“Maybe you’ll think twice when you consider casting your attentions toward the bruja Catalina,” Rosia snapped back at him.