When Samuel pointed at the mirror hanging on the far wall, Fannie took it down and handed it over, then held up a lamp so he could see himself. Between the rainbow of color splayed across one side of his face, the swelling, and the stitches, he looked … monstrous.
“Do you remember anything after the horse threw you?” the doctor asked.
Sam held his thumb and forefinger apart. A little. He remembered being in a tepee. He thought someone had given him some water. He must have passed out when they moved him. He didn’t remember a thing about a wagon ride. How long had he been here? He pretended to scribble on his palm. When the doctor produced paper and a pencil, he managed to write the words How long.
“I don’t know how long it will take. Only God knows.”
Sam shook his head and gestured around the room again, then tapped the paper.
The doctor’s eyes lit with understanding. “You’ve been here a week, floating in and out. If you don’t remember, consider it part of God’s gift of healing. There’s very little to remember but pain.”
Sam turned his head to look at Lamar, surprised at how much it hurt. With a grimace, he pointed at his friend.
“Don’t worry about me, son. I’m old, but I’m tough.” Lamar put a hand on the sling around his neck. “My arm’s broke. The doc says to be glad the bone didn’t break the skin. He thinks I’ll be all right.” He grinned. “One thing good about it, I haven’t thought to complain about my knees in a while.”
Samuel nodded … and then he fell asleep.
Abe sent soup over from the boarding house the next evening, along with a message that he wouldn’t need any help serving supper. Samuel had spent a painful amount of time throughout the morning trying to talk and managing only unintelligible sounds. Fannie could see his mood slipping toward despair with every passing hour. Finally, he gave up. He hadn’t uttered a sound for the rest of the day. Over supper, she peppered Edmund with questions. “He wants to be a preacher. He has to be able to talk. There must be something you can do.”
“I’ve pored over every medical book in the clinic, and all I can tell you is what I already have. Sometimes the healing is remarkable. Sometimes the damage is permanent.”
“It hasn’t been that long,” Edie offered. “I know it’s hard, but … we all have to be patient.”
Fannie shook her head. “That’s not good enough.” She glanced toward the river, feeling her frustration grow. “Are there specialists? Is there someone else?” She knew she was practically yelling but was too frustrated to care. “Should we take him downriver?”
Edmund took a deep breath. “If you’re asking me if there are doctors who know more than I do about aphasia, the answer is yes. There’s likely a doctor who knows more than me about just about everything.” He pulled the napkin out of where it had been tucked into his collar and, folding it, laid it beside his soup bowl. “I’ve told you everything I know about it, Fannie. I don’t know if Sam will talk again. I think he will, but I don’t know. Unfortunately, God doesn’t visit me at night and discuss my patients’ prognoses.”
He stood up. “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you. You’re welcome to read my medical books if you think I’ve missed something.” He took a step toward the clinic, then paused. “It isn’t much, but I do know one thing. Hauling Sam Beck aboard a steamer is a terrible idea. He’s stuck with the best I can do.” He disappeared into the darkened clinic.
Awkward silence at the table made Fannie feel self-conscious. She pulled her piece of bread apart and dropped the fragments into her soup bowl to soak up the last bit of broth, then realized she had no appetite. She got up to refill her coffee mug.
Patrick broke the silence. “Don’t worry, Fannie. Sam’s going to be all right. Pa will take good care of him.”
Fannie crossed back to the table and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I know he will. I don’t know why I said those things.”
“It’s because you’re scared,” Patrick said.
Fannie agreed. “I’m scared for Sam. He loves God so much … and telling other people about him … he loves doing that. What will happen if he can’t preach?”
“But that’s not why you yelled at Pa,” Patrick said. “You yelled because the last steamboat is at the levee and you don’t want to leave, but you’re scared of staying here all winter.” He reached for her hand. “You don’t have to be scared, Fannie. Winter’s not so bad if you have stuff to do and enough to eat. You and I can play checkers. Pa has a lot of books you can read. Abe likes having you at the boarding house. Sure, it gets cold, but you won’t freeze. We’ll be all right.” He turned as if looking at Edie as he said, “Edie wants you to stay, too.”
Fannie glanced at Edie, but the older woman was concentrating on spreading butter on a slice of bread and didn’t seem to have heard a word. “Why do you say that?” she asked.
Patrick mulled the question for a moment. “When you can’t see faces, you listen better. Sometimes listening lets a person see in a better way.”
Fannie couldn’t suppress a smile. Minette had an amazing sensitivity to nuances that sighted people often missed, but she’d been taught much of it at school. Apparently Patrick had a natural intuition. “Tell me, Patrick, what do you ‘see’ when you listen?”
The boy sighed. “Well … like I said. Edie likes you. So does Abe.” He smiled. “And of course, Pa.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Fannie said. “Because what I just said to him was unkind.” She got up and, retrieving the coffeepot from the stovetop, poured both herself and Edmund another cup. “I think I’ll go in the other room and apologize. I just hope he’ll hear me out.”
“Of course he will,” Patrick said. “Don’t you hear it when he talks to you? He keeps liking you more all the time.”
Fannie hugged him. “And I keep liking you more all the time, Patrick LaMotte.” She kissed him on the cheek.
“I’ll clean up here,” Edie said quietly. “Patrick and I have a date with the Greeks.” She pointed to a book on the reading table by Edmund’s rocker.
Patrick nodded. “We’re almost to the part where Jason finds the fleece.”
Fannie grabbed the two coffee mugs and stepped into the clinic.
Edmund had lit the shaded kerosene lamp at his desk and was seated, his head bowed over yet another medical tome. He didn’t look up when Fannie came in, just murmured that Samuel and Lamar were both asleep and kept reading.
Fannie went to him and set the coffee down. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Patrick just gave me a lesson in listening. Sometimes I think he’s better at understanding people than those of us who have our sight.” She paused. “He said that you like me, and that you’d forgive me for what I said just now.” She crouched down beside him and put a hand on his arm. “Please, Edmund. Forgive me. You’re a wonderful doctor and I know you’re doing everything you can.”
He looked down at her. “Do you really believe that?”
“I do.” She glanced toward Samuel. Shook her head. “I just hate to see him suffer. He didn’t find his sister, but he seemed to have found his calling in life. And then …” She shrugged. “It seems so unfair.”
Edmund agreed even as he thanked her for apologizing. He got up and, retrieving a chair, set it next to him at the desk. Fannie sat down and he showed her a diagram of the human brain and began to explain what he thought was going on with Samuel. “The truth is, we don’t know a lot about how the brain works. There’s disagreement over even the most basic things, like where, exactly, the capacity for speech resides. From the cut on Sam’s scalp, it would seem most likely that that’s the part of the brain where speech resides. But there’s just as much evidence from others that it’s not there at all.” He paused. “Obviously, someone like me who practices in a remote area—” He broke off. “I haven’t exactly kept up with the latest findings. So you’re probably right. There are probably all kinds of doctors who know more than I do about any of this.”
“Please,�
� Fannie said, putting a hand on his arm, “stop.” She reached for her coffee mug and cupped it in her palms, gazing down at the golden arc from the lamp reflected in the surface of her coffee. “Just now, Patrick said that I was really upset because I don’t want to leave, but I’m afraid to stay.” She forced a smile. “He said I shouldn’t be afraid.” She took a sip of coffee. “When I left St. Charles this spring, I expected to be back by fall. And then …” She shook her head. “Patrick’s right. It’s not just that I don’t want to leave. I can’t imagine it. I’ve just found the reason I came. Edie isn’t at all what I’d envisioned, but she’s all the family I have. As for Sam and Lamar … I know they’ll be fine. They don’t need me—but I can’t imagine being cut off from knowing how they are.”
Edmund reached over and took her coffee mug out of her hands and set it on the desk. Taking her hands in his, he lifted them to his lips and deposited a kiss on the back of each one. “We do need you,” he said. He released one and, tracing the line of her jaw, lifted her chin so that she met his gaze. “Please, Fannie. Stay.”
And suddenly … it wasn’t such a difficult decision after all.
The doc had turned down his lamp and he and Patrick had retired long ago. By now, Fannie was asleep over at the boarding house. Edie had taken to keeping watch at night. She was in the kitchen now. Every once in a while, Samuel heard a quiet footstep or a creak as she got up to get another cup of coffee and then settled back into the doctor’s rocker. She’d asked Samuel if he minded if she read his mother’s Bible. He’d smiled and she’d teased him, “If I’d known you had such a pretty smile, Parson, I’d have asked to read the Good Book as soon as you woke up.”
Samuel lay on his side staring at the square of pale light on the board floor where moonlight shone in the window by the doc’s desk. Praying for a miracle. Praying to heal so he could return to the gold camps before snow closed the trail. Wishing he hadn’t heard the doc begging Fannie to stay. Wishing he hadn’t seen how easy it was for her to say yes … to him. Doing his best to believe that in that space between what he knew to be true and what he didn’t understand … that somewhere in that empty space … he’d have the faith to be happy for Fannie and Dr. LaMotte … and to hold on to hope for himself.
Dear Minette,
There is so much to say—so much to explain—and I haven’t nearly as much time as I need. I want to write pages and pages, but the steamboat departs this morning and this letter has to be in the mailbag on board, because I won’t be. Too much has happened for me to leave now.
Oh, Minette, I’ve finally found Aunt Edith! And while at first she seemed less than happy to have been found, now we are spending time together. We’ve just begun to get acquainted, and I don’t want to put our relationship at the mercy of either the river or a mailbag.
The next reason I need to stay is for Samuel’s sake. He has not found his sister, but he and Lamar were headed back to Fort Benton when they were caught up in an Indian skirmish. They were helped into Fort Benton and are recovering, except for the fact that Samuel cannot speak. He makes noises, he can swallow, he can understand, but he can’t form words. Yet. Dr. LaMotte is hopeful, but I can see the fear in Samuel’s eyes. He is my dear friend, and I cannot abandon him.
Lastly, I want to stay for Patrick and Edmund LaMotte. Patrick is a dear. He reminds me of you in that he has a sixth sense about people. He told me that listening carefully sometimes helps him see. I can’t explain it all, but suffice it to say that Patrick helped me to see that I cannot leave yet.
And so, dear Minette, I will be spending a winter in the northernmost trading outpost of the Missouri River. Abe’s boarding house is nearly empty, and so there is little work to be done, but he assures me I am welcome to stay, even though I am bereft of a way to pay him. Which leads me to another topic.
I am enclosing a letter to Mr. Vandekamp. It is essential that both your father and Daniel read it before it is delivered.
I hope this finds you well. I am fine, although changed in ways I don’t quite understand myself. I have always believed in God, but I’ve needed my faith more since leaving home. It is as if a seedling is sprouting stems and leaves. Perhaps by the time I see you again it will be in full bloom. I know that I will never be the same because of Fort Benton and all it represents.
Please know that my devotion to you remains as strong as ever. I love you, dear friend. In the midst of the shock this letter will undoubtedly cause, I pray that you can still find it in your heart to love me as well as ever.
Always yours,
Fannie
Dear Mr. Vandekamp,
Having received your letter, I find it necessary to express my deep disappointment at your taking advantage of my situation in order to follow the letter of the law rather than its spirit. In the absence of your goodwill, God has seen fit to provide for me in other ways. I send this letter in care of friends who will see that it is delivered and my wishes executed without the disappointing taint of the vengeful spirit evidenced in your communiqué.
At her request, I forward greetings from Miss Edith LeClerc … my own Aunt Edie.
Sincerely,
Fannie LeClerc Rousseau
Fannie folded the note to Mr. Vandekamp and reread the accompanying document that would hopefully provide Daniel Hennessey and Mr. Beauvais everything they needed to manage her affairs. She couldn’t help but feel what was probably a sinful bit of satisfaction as she envisioned the effect the document would have on Mr. Vandekamp. Those two bright spots of color would have already appeared on his face when he read her note. But, as he stood in the presence of Daniel Hennessey and Mr. Beauvais and read the document, his entire face would burn bright with rage. The only person he had to blame was himself. And now … now Fannie could face the winter knowing that things in St. Charles would be all right until she returned in the spring. Faith was the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen, and as she sealed the envelope, Fannie realized that she was at peace with her decision to stay … and hope … and see.
To all parties involved in businesses and private matters related to the estate of the late Mr. and Mrs. Louis Rousseau of St. Charles, Missouri:
As the sole heir of the parties herein mentioned, I, Fannie LeClerc Rousseau, wish it to be known that in my absence from St. Charles, Missouri, however long that may be, and until further written notice from me or by verbal instruction from my own person, Mr. Daniel Hennessey and Mr. Claude Beauvais are my appointed agents. Their decisions are to be considered final and binding on all parties concerned. I hereby instruct Mr. Hubert Vandekamp to make available to the aforementioned gentlemen any and all financial records, accounts, etc., necessary in order for Mr. Hennessey and Mr. Beauvais to conduct matters in such a way as they see fit.
Regarding the property on Main Street, which I understand was damaged in a fire in my absence, I request that everything possible be done to prevent further damage to both the house and its contents until I return to inspect the property. Mr. Amos Walker has my full confidence in the matter of upkeep and, along with his assistant, Tommy Cooper, should be paid for his services in that regard. If Mr. Walker sees fit, he is to take up residence in the carriage house apartment. If he does not wish to do so, appropriate measures should be taken so that a trustworthy watchman remains on the premises. Nothing is to be disposed of unless this is deemed necessary by Mr. Hennessey and Mr. Beauvais, who have my utmost confidence and trust.
Hereto I assign my signature on this twentieth day of October, 1869.
Fannie LeClerc Rousseau
Witness: Edmund LaMotte, M.D. Fort Benton, Montana Territory, U.S.A.
Witness: Abraham Valley, Proprietor of the Fort Benton Hostelry, Montana Territory, U.S.A.
In whom we have redemption through his blood,
the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of his grace.
EPHESIANS 1:7
As October waned and the prairie browned, Fannie saw Fort Benton transformed. Only
a few crates and barrels remained on the once bustling levee. The last bull train left for the gold camps, and with that, many of the saloons closed down to wait for spring. While business didn’t completely die, the nights were no longer punctuated with music and gunfire.
Lame Bear and his sons rode into town one day in a display of feathers and finery that took Fannie’s breath away. They were headed to their winter camp, but Lame Bear wanted to see how Lamar and Samuel were doing, and now that White Sparrow was going to stay the winter, he thought she might change her mind about riding Smoke. After an impressive speech, he waved at Owl, who jumped off his pony and presented Fannie with a beautifully tooled sidesaddle.
Even as she ran her hand over the burnished leather, Fannie protested. “We’re the ones who should be giving gifts. They saved Samuel’s life. In fact … I’m ashamed I haven’t done so.”
When Edmund translated the message, Lame Bear smiled at her and gestured to his sons. Edmund laughed. “He’s willing to accept you into the clan if you’d care to go into winter camp with them.”
Fannie shook her head even as she smiled at Lame Bear. “I see the smile around your eyes. You’re teasing.” Putting her hand to her heart, she nodded her thanks to the three braves. The men returned the gesture and then, in a whirl of color and a chorus of yells, charged out of town toward the north.
Fannie looked down at the saddle. “Do I dare wonder how on earth they came up with this?”
Edie deadpanned, “There’s a saddler right up the street. I imagine they stopped in and bought it right before they had tea at the mercantile.” She laughed. “If you know what’s good for you, Miss Rousseau, by the time spring rolls around and Lame Bear comes back this way, you’ll be ready to demonstrate how well you can ride that gray horse he gave you.”
“But I sold Smoke to Edmund.”
“Did you, now?” Hands on hips, Edie glared at Edmund. “For cash?”
“For perpetual medical care,” Edmund said. “A fair trade.”
Edie nudged Fannie. “Take the horse back, honey. A woman who has to wait on a man to go where she wants to go is a woman who spends far too much of her life waiting.” She tilted her head. “Now that I think about it, we need to teach you how to shoot. Then you’ll be all set.”
A Most Unsuitable Match Page 22