Ruth only nodded in acknowledgment, and, satisfied, Win turned away, his mind filled with the image of Ellie’s form beneath the quilt. Her eyes closed in slumber, her hands in Ruth’s, she was safe, at least for now. And how he could be so certain of that was a puzzle he set aside to ponder after his immediate work was done.
The boy’s leg was a simple fracture, and Win splinted it, wrapping it firmly, then gave instructions for his care to the anxious father, who hovered over the boy as though he would take the pain upon himself. Jeremiah was ten years old, a winsome child, determined to be brave in the face of the unknown, and Win’s heart was captured by the freckled face and fiery head of hair.
“You’ll be fine, son,” he said firmly, his hand seeking the boy’s shoulder for a final squeeze. “Your pa will carry you to the wagon, and I’ll warrant your mother will be waiting for you at the door.”
“She was scared, Doc,” Jeremiah confided quietly. “She told me she’d make me some cookies, and we’re gonna put a cot in the kitchen for me to stay on, so I don’t have to be alone upstairs during the day.”
Win could not suppress a chuckle. “I’d say she has it all figured out. You’ll be spoiled rotten inside of a week.”
“And I can’t go to school, can I?” Hope lit his eyes as the boy waited for Win’s reply.
“I think you need to stay off that leg for a month,” Win said. “But if I know Miss Kate, she’ll send you enough lessons to keep you busy. And no doubt your mother will be happy to see to it you work at it every day.”
Crestfallen, Jeremiah sighed. “I was thinking I was too bad hurt to be doing school work.”
Win relented. “No school work for three days, Mr. Madison.” He exchanged a look with the father, and understanding lit Clive’s eyes. “In the meantime, I’ll tell Mrs. Kincaid about your injury, Jeremiah,” Win told him. “She can put together a package to be delivered to you.”
“My sister will probably bring it home from school,” the boy said glumly. And then he brightened. “But I get cookies when we get home, don’t I, Pa?”
Win watched as the father lifted his son, careful to support the injury, opening the outer door for them, then following as the boy was tucked into the back of the wagon. “He’s going to be hurting for a few days,” Win told the father quietly, passing a bottle into the man’s hand. “Give him a dose of this in the evening. It’ll help him sleep.”
Before the wagon had turned in the road, Win was back in the house, shivering from the cold air, welcoming the warmth of the kitchen stove that permeated his living quarters…eager to return to Ellie.
He met Ruth at the bedroom door, and looked past her to where Ellie’s still form lay curled up on his bed. One hand tucked beneath her cheek, she slept. Her breathing seemed normal, her face not unduly flushed, and he drew a shuddering breath. “Is her fever down?” he asked, knowing the answer even as he posed the query.
“She’s resting,” Ruth said quietly. “I think the herbs have helped. But she’s very sick, Doc. My guess is she won’t be up and about for several days.”
His gaze left Ellie reluctantly to focus on the woman before him. “Will you come back?” he asked, feeling humbled by the woman’s serene strength. “I won’t even ask what you did, Ruth. I don’t need to know. If it helped my wife, that’s all that matters.”
Ruth’s mouth twitched and humor lit her eyes. “There are no magic chants or ancient formulas in my healing,” she told him. “I only use methods that have come to me over the years from my ancestors. The healing must come from within, and Ellie has strength we don’t recognize.” She looked back at her patient.
“I would like you to use the steam if you think it helps. I’ve left several packets of dried herbs beside the bed. Ethel knows what to do with them.” Ruth’s hand touched Win’s arm, and again he was aware of a strange, potent force that delivered its silent message in a way he could not comprehend.
“I’ll do anything you ask,” he told her. “Contrary to what my medical books tell me, I know there are forces within each of us that continue to confound the higher learning we teach in universities and medical schools.”
“You must send for me if she does not respond well in the next day or so,” Ruth said. “I would be careful of using anything to sedate her. The child she carries is strong, but susceptible to whatever we use to treat Ellie.”
Win nodded, feeling almost as incompetent as he had in those long past days when he’d first encountered a professor in medical school. There was no doubt in his mind that Ruth truly deserved the reputation of a true healer. He’d seen evidence of her talent, heard stories of her quiet ministry. Now he looked to where Ellie lay asleep, not stretched out in unnatural stillness, but curled in simple slumber.
“Thank you,” he said, almost beneath his breath, blinking back a mist that blurred his vision. Ruth’s hand left his arm and she stepped around him, the soft leather of her shoes silent on the wooden floor. In moments, he heard the murmur of voices in the kitchen, Ethel’s raised in inquiry, Ruth’s a soft assurance.
His strides were long as he crossed his bedroom floor, dropping to his knees beside Ellie, fearful of disturbing her rest, yet needing to be near her. One hand touched her brow, unable to believe his eyes as he observed the natural color of her skin. No trace of fever met his fingertips, only the warmth he was familiar with, the scent of womanly flesh he associated with Ellie.
His mind closed to all else save this moment, when his wife and child were deeply involved in the healing process. He brushed aside a tendril of hair that teased his fingers, and was rewarded by a faint smile, lifting Ellie’s lips and bringing to life a small dimple in her cheek.
“Win.” She whispered the single syllable, turning her head to seek his hand, sighing as her temple settled against his palm. “The baby?” Spoken so softly, he might have missed her concern had he not seen her lips move, the question tore at his heart. And yet he rejoiced that he could ease her fear.
“The baby’s fine, sweetheart. Just rest now.”
And she did, falling deeply into slumber, her mouth open a bit, her lips soft, her breath sweet. No scent of fever defiled the air; yet he knew, without a doubt, she was not through with her ordeal. For now, it was enough that she rested, gaining strength before the rising of internal heat would once more sap her life force.
“How’s the missus?” Standing in the hotel doorway, Amos Carlton called out to Win. “John told me she’s pretty sick.”
Win halted midway across the road and waved. “She’s doing better. Thanks for asking, Amos. She’s sitting up in bed this morning, eating scrambled eggs that Ethel cooked for her.”
“Well, that’s good news,” Harry Talbert said, leaning on his broom, as he joined the conversation. “Ethel told me she was spending the morning at your house.”
“I’m on my way to the mercantile,” Win said. “I don’t like leaving Ellie alone yet. I suppose she’d be fine for a while by herself, but I appreciate Ethel taking hold the way she has.”
“We think a lot of the girl,” Harry told him. “She’s made herself a nest there, hasn’t she? Even got the weeds pulled in your yard. Said she’s plannin’ on plantin’ flowers, come spring.” His grin was wide. “Ethel says she’s quite a cook, too.”
“Don’t know what I ever did without her,” Win admitted. “Never thought I’d get married, even with Ruth and Tess lining up the women for me to look over.”
“Well, you couldn’t have done better if you’d tried,” James said, joining the men as they gathered in the middle of the street. “Kate’s quite taken with her, you know. She’s been worried sick that tromping around at night in the cold air would weaken Ellie’s lungs. Do you suppose she’ll come out of this all right, Doc?”
Win nodded. “Whatever Ruth put in the steam she used seemed to do the trick. I was steaming her, but Ruth brought some Indian remedy along and it worked pretty well.” He thought of the night just past. “She’s still coughing, but she needs to b
ring all the congestion up, get her lungs cleared out. It about wears her out, and then she sleeps it off.”
He’d changed the bed early in the morning, then helped her into her second gown. “I’m on my way to the mercantile. Need to get some things for Ellie.”
“I’ll walk over with you,” James said, sauntering beside Win as the other men went back to their places of business, Harry wielding his broom on the last bit of wooden walkway in front of his store. “I want to talk to you, Doc.”
“Something wrong?” Win asked. “Is Kate all right? And the baby?”
James waved away the words, shaking his head. “They’re fine. I just wanted you to know that I put Marie and Tommy on a train yesterday morning, heading back East. And then I went out and brought George into town. He’s in jail.”
Win halted before the mercantile. “He is? Doesn’t seem right that the instigators in this whole mess are heading for home and George is holding the short end of the stick. You know, I’d forgotten Tommy and his mother. I’d downright put them and their shenanigans out of my mind. I’ll be…” He shook his head. “Was there trouble?”
“No, not unless you count the hollering old George is doing, sitting in a cell. I think Marie was glad to hightail it out of town and leave that mess behind. Once she got the idea that all her plotting was a fizzle, she cut her losses and hauled buggy back to Pennsylvania.” He grinned and tilted his hat back, leaning against an upright post. “Of course, the fact that some highfalutin lawyer showed up at the hotel might have had something to do with it.”
“A lawyer?” Win repeated James’s words and looked up the street toward Amos’s hotel. “Is he still there?”
“Yeah, he’s having breakfast in the dining room. He told me that he’d be by to see you this morning.” James lifted a brow. “The name Gregory Gray mean anything to you?”
Win nodded slowly. “He’s my uncle, my father’s brother. There’s four of them in all, every man Jack of them a lawyer. Uncle Gregory’s the eldest.” He hesitated and grinned. “My favorite, to tell the truth. I might have known he’d be the one to come.”
“Yeah,” James said with a chuckle. “I heard about the one who went to Washington, the senator from Pennsylvania. Well, your uncle Gregory spent a while in a private parlor at the hotel with Marie and Tommy. And after he got through with them they didn’t offer much of a fuss when I suggested politely that they might want to leave town before I found a spot for them in the jail.”
“My uncle’s at the hotel?” Win was having a problem digesting James’s story. He’d been so involved in the sickroom with Ellie that anything beyond the walls of his home held no interest. But now, if he’d heard James correctly, his uncle Gregory was just a hundred feet away, eating breakfast in Whitehorn’s fanciest hotel.
“Yup, that’s what I said.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before? I’d have paid him a visit.”
James eyed him dubiously. “Would you? With Ellie so sick? I heard from Ethel that you haven’t even made a house call since we found Ellie. I figured the man could walk to your place and meet your wife.”
“I’ll pay him a visit, as soon as I stop here and do a little shopping,” Win said, opening wide the front door of the mercantile. Tess greeted him from the back of the store and he waved in reply.
“How’s Ellie today?” She bustled out from behind the counter, greeting him halfway across the floor, reaching to pat his cheek. “You’ve had a tough row to hoe, Doc. It’s got to be hard, watching your own wife just layin’ there, and you not able to offer any miracle cure.”
“She’s doing better, Tess. Did you know Ruth came by day before yesterday? She’s coming back, probably today or tomorrow, and I think she’ll be pleased at Ellie’s progress.”
“You let her work her magic, did you?” Tess eyed him dubiously. “I wasn’t sure you’d turn her loose on Ellie, being a doctor yourself, and all.”
“I’ll take all the help I can get,” Win declared firmly. “And whatever Ruth did, it helped. I’ll never turn my back on someone who offers a hand, whether it be someone from a medical school or a natural born healer. And I’d say Ruth falls into that category. She worked a miracle of sorts, with some herbs and who knows what all. I just closed the door and left her alone to do what she came for.”
“She has the touch, that’s for sure,” Tess said. “There’s folks who’d do well to acknowledge the fact, instead of looking down their noses at her. Of course, being a Kincaid helps a lot, but when her name was Ruth Whitefeather, she took a lot of guff.”
“She’s welcome in my home any day of the week,” Win said quietly. “I’ve never paid much mind to skin color. Never saw many Native Americans back East anyway, at least not in Saint Louis.”
“Now, what are you lookin’ for this mornin’, Doc?” she asked brightly. “Got a grocery list for me?”
“Mostly I need a couple of new nightgowns for Ellie. She’s going through them lickety-split. Every time I turn around, I’m changing her. Her fever goes up and we end up with another set of sheets for Ethel to wash, along with her nightgown.”
“I’ll pick out a couple for you,” Tess told him, rounding the counter and pulling a wooden box from the shelf. “How many you want?” She held up three, fancy gowns to his way of thinking, with lace and ruffles and bitty little buttons marching up the front.
“Those will do,” he said. “Put together some cheese and a dozen or so eggs and a slab of bacon for me. Canned fruit if you have any, and coffee. I’ll pick it up in a while. I’m making a stop at the hotel. James tells me my uncle is in town.”
Tess nodded. “I heard he sent Marie packin’. You lettin’ her get away with causin’ a fuss?”
“She’s gone, and good riddance,” Win said fervently. “Ellie’s pa is the one I blame. If he wasn’t so ornery, none of this would have come about. He could have put a bug in Marie’s ear right off the bat, and she wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on. All her talk about an annulment went kaflooey once her lawyer heard the whole story.”
James stuck his head in the door. “You about ready to head for the hotel, Doc?”
Win nodded. “Yeah, I’m on my way.” He tipped his hat to Tess and stepped across the floor to where James waited. “Let’s go, Sheriff. It’s been a couple of years since I saw my uncle Gregory. He might not recognize me.”
The staid, sober lawyer who rose at Win’s appearance seemed to have no difficulty knowing his nephew at first glance. “My boy,” he said heartily, crossing the dining room with hand outstretched. Win’s fingers were buried within the huge palm and Gregory Gray’s grip was strong. Then, with a muttered word that made Win smile, the older man reached for his nephew and held him in an embrace that threatened to crush the breath from him.
“You’re missed, my boy,” Gregory said bluntly. “Your aunt Elmira and I have wondered for months on end where you were and what you were doing. And then I get a message that you need the services of a good lawyer. I told you having the law in your background would be your salvation one of these days.”
“So you did,” Win answered, disentangling himself with effort. “It’s good to see you, sir. Won’t you come to my home, and spend some time with me.”
Gregory’s eyes were sharp beneath bushy brows. “Several folks have filled my ears with stories about your new bride, son. I’m eager to meet the young woman.”
Win hesitated. “That might present a problem. Ellie’s quite ill, still abed for that matter. She’s recovering from pneumonia.”
“I heard that from your sheriff. A fine fella, that one.” He looked over Win’s shoulder and his smile flashed. “There’s the man now,” he said, waving a hand at James.
He hadn’t changed, Win decided. As bluff and hearty as ever, the direct opposite of his brother. That thought made Win think of his sire. “How is my father?” he asked politely. “And mother?”
“Ornery as ever,” Gregory said bluntly. “Well, if I’m not to meet your wife this morni
ng, come on over to my table and drink some coffee while I eat the rest of my breakfast.”
“Join us, James,” Win said, but was met with an uplifted hand and a quick shake of his head as James refused the offer.
“I’ve got to check on my prisoner, Doc, and then trot over to the school to give Kate a hand. She’s up to her neck with students, the baby’s fussy this morning.”
“Baby?” Gregory looked intrigued at that revelation. “What’s all that about?”
“Sit down,” Win told him, “and I’ll fill you in while you eat.”
Ellie was not a good patient. And he didn’t have it in him to be harsh with her, Win decided as she pouted at his decision to keep her in bed the next morning. “You still have just a touch of congestion in your lungs, sweetheart,” he explained for the third time. “You need to rest. You had a low fever again last night, and I can hear rattles all the way to the bottom of your lungs.”
He pulled her gown back down to cover her back, his fingers caressing the straight line of her spine, appreciating the soft skin of his patient. No other woman had appealed to him as she did, and at that thought, he recognized anew the degree of emotion she managed to elicit from him. He, whose claim to matter-of-fact attention to the sick had made him clearheaded and analytical in his diagnoses over the past years, was now totally at the mercy of feelings he could not control.
No wonder the medical profession decreed that a doctor should not treat his own family. And if he’d stayed in Saint Louis, he probably would have called in a consultant. Or more likely, would have put Ellie in a hospital where she would get the best care available. He thought of Ruth Kincaid, and smiled. Her brand of healing would not be accepted where he came from. Perhaps, for Ellie’s sake, it was a mercy that this was not Saint Louis, but rather the frontier.
“Win?” Ellie watched him warily. “When can I get up? I want to be dressed when I meet your uncle. He’s the first of your family to be welcomed into your home, and I’m not going to greet him from my bed.” Indignantly, she made her claim, and Win sighed, aware that she had a valid point.
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