by Donna Steele
“Can you tell me what happened?” She sat him in a chair near the window.
“I fell out of a tree. Is my arm broke?”
“No, I don’t think so. What you did was pop your shoulder out of joint. Once I put the joint back where it belongs, most of the pain will be gone and I’ll make you a cool sling to wear.”
“How will the sling stay cool?”
“Uh, I mean the sling will make you look very brave.”
“Oh.” He looked a little confused but didn’t correct her.
“Let’s get your shirt off. Try to relax, okay?”
He tried to smile again, tears gone. “O-Okay.”
At least this “man” wasn’t concerned about her clothing. In fact, he seemed fascinated by her. He allowed her to ease the long sleeved linen shirt carefully from his injured shoulder. Carved buttons held the fabric together. Were they made of bone? The shirt had neat, hand-sewn stitches, and his pants were short, like knickers. They had no zipper, only a button fly. These clothes fit in with what she’d observed around here.
If I think about it too deeply I’ll go nuts. Rather than dwell further on clothing, Dee focused again on her patient. “Now, what’s your name?” she asked.
“I’m Joseph Pickerson.”
“Like the mayor?”
The boy nodded, glancing at the door again.
“How old are you?”
“I turned eight two weeks ago.”
“You’re tall for your age,” she commented admiringly. “And you have strong bones for falling out of trees, but I don’t recommend doing it often. Is the mayor your father?”
“Yes, ma’am. Josiah is probably in trouble. He was keeping an eye on me, ‘cause he’s the oldest. It’s not his fault I fell,” he added quickly.
“Don’t worry about them. I want you to try to relax and let me check you out better.”
Dee finished her examination as the door opened. Apparently someone finally remembered the boy, following whatever scolding the mayor decided to mete out.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Mayor Pickerson asked at once.
“Examining your son’s shoulder,” Dee replied. “When he fell out of the tree, he dislocated the joint.”
“He broke his arm?”
“No. He popped the shoulder out of joint. I’m preparing to pop it into place.” The mayor’s face paled. “Don’t worry. This is not a difficult procedure and Joseph will feel much better. Dusty?”
Dusty moved around the table, ready to do whatever she wanted. Being her orderly was apparently preferable to dealing with this crowd.
“Wait. Are you sure?” Mr. Pickerson didn’t move closer but Dee could feel his ambivalence.
“I’ve done this many times. You’re welcome to watch.”
The mayor went even whiter, as Josiah leaned around him eagerly. Dee bit her lip to keep from smiling. Then she dismissed everyone else from her mind. “Dusty, please hold him here and here. Joseph, take a deep breath and . . .” The procedure was complete before the rest of the occupants of the room could react.
Joseph gazed up at her with wonder and more than a little love in his eyes.
“There. Now I want to bind your arm, so you won’t move the shoulder for a while and reinjure it. Okay?”
“Okay,” the boy repeated, smiling as Dee quickly immobilized the arm.
~ ~ ~
While Dee finished up with Joseph, Dusty stepped over to Mayor Pickerson. “May I have a word with you, sir?”
“What? Oh, of course.” He glanced at his younger son. “You did well there, Joseph.”
“Thank you, sir,” Joseph replied. He didn’t take his eyes off Dee.
Dusty, Pickerson, and Caleb stepped out into the foyer while Millie remained at Daphne’s side. Dusty wasted no time. “Have you been able to locate a doctor for this community yet?”
“No, Doc Tillman only died a few days ago, quite unexpectedly. We haven’t had the time.”
“Then may I offer a proposition? My wife and I are stranded here until we can arrange for new transportation. I propose Doc Stevens act as doctor for the town temporarily. At least until you find someone you think is more suited to the task. I believe the circumstances have already demonstrated you can’t go for too long without someone in the position.”
“She’s a woman. My town will not accept—”
Dusty interrupted bluntly. “I believe Caleb here would, and your son. I’m not suggesting a permanent arrangement. However, since we are here and you need someone . . .”
“There’s the matter of compensation. It would not be proper for a woman—”
“What about a compromise?” Dusty didn’t let him finish. “Since no one else is living here, I assume we could reside here temporarily and Dee can lend the town her services in exchange.”
For an instant the mayor glanced over at Caleb, as though seeking advice, then must have realized his lapse. He returned his attention to Dusty. “That might be a possibility. I will have to consult with the town council.”
“I understand. Until then, do you think Doc Tillman’s heirs would mind if we remained here in his home?”
“Doc Tillman had no heirs,” Caleb piped up.
The Mayor shot a glare at him, but admitted, “That is true. I suppose you could stay here at least tonight. You and your wife have been a help today.”
“Thank you.”
Joseph, Josiah, and their friend came out of the examining room, and Dusty had to hide a grin at the slight jealousy the older boy revealed. Dee followed them, along with the other women, her hand helping to steady Daphne, still a bit groggy.
“Dee, we’ve been invited to stay here in Doctor Tillman’s home until other arrangements for a town physician can be made and we can arrange transportation home.” Dusty held himself still until she met his eyes directly.
“That would be very nice. Thank you.” She didn’t extend her hand for a shake this time, but instead followed his lead.
“Stay here? Why, that’s not—” Dusty had forgotten the older woman who joined them, her color high.
“Miz Masters, I believe the good lady has shown how she could support the community until a proper doctor can be persuaded to take up the position.” Mayor Pickerson stopped her, one hand raised as he pontificated.
Dusty winced at the “proper doctor” but kept quiet. He still needed to get Dee alone and discuss this whole thing.
Mrs. Masters turned away muttering, as Mrs. Douglas stepped up. “Why don’t we check upstairs to see if any of Miz Tillman’s clothing might fit you?”
Mrs. Masters whirled around to argue, then gave Dee another of those thorough looks and huffed. “Yes, at least you should be adequately, and decently, clothed if you are going to be staying here.” She stomped up the staircase, and Mrs. Douglas gave Dee a shy smile.
Dusty watched Dee manage to return the smile before glancing over at him. He wanted to take her in his arms, at least give her some reassurance, but not in front of these people. “I believe it would be best if I go get the rest of our things and bring them here. Will you be all right?”
Chapter 8
The idea of Dusty being so far away physically in this situation was positively terrifying, a feeling Dee was not used to, yet she saw no choice other than to accept. “I believe I’ll be busy getting properly attired. Please hurry.” She hadn’t meant to say that last out loud.
“Promise.” Dusty wanted to kiss her, she saw it in his eyes. She longed for that, too, but there were too many people in attendance who would be scandalized at such an action.
“Boys, you go along with Mister Stevens, help him with his things.” The mayor motioned to Josiah, Joseph, and the still unnamed boy who accompanied them.
“Yes, sir.” All
three came to attention and Dusty chuckled. With a final, long look at Dee, he followed the boys outside. Dee felt the buzz fade with distance but forced herself from taking a step to follow him.
“I need to get to the store.” Caleb and the mayor, discussing the situation, followed them. That left Dee in the custody of Mrs. Masters, who had disappeared upstairs. Daphne and her mother stood in the foyer.
What the hell was going on? Dee’s mood dipped. She didn’t feel whole without Dusty near her; incomplete in a way she couldn’t articulate.
“Miz Tillman was about your size, I believe,” Mrs. Douglas said tentatively. “At least we could alter some of her things to fit you.”
“Thank you.” None of her clothing was in the car. Dusty had the clothes he’d packed for his trip. She’d gotten out of bed and thrown on jeans. She didn’t even have a change of underwear with her.
She followed Daphne and her mother upstairs.
Mrs. Masters stood in the first bedroom on the left, laying dresses and some skirts out on a bed. “Miz Tillman was a very modest woman. Her clothing would be much more appropriate.”
Dee sighed. Mrs. Masters might not have been in agreement at the bottom of the stairs, but the project had obviously become her idea by the time they arrived at the top.
Dr. Tillman must have been prosperous. The large room held a lovely four-poster bed, with a matching armoire centered between the two generous windows. A smaller lady’s bureau with an oval mirror stood beside the door. The wallpaper, slightly too feminine for Dee’s taste, was composed of lilac and rose stripes, and the faint scent of lilacs still hovered in the room. Had the doctor slept in here with no changes after his wife died?
Dee stalled, staring with distaste at the clothing Mrs. Masters draped across the bed. She didn’t wear especially short skirts, but these were ankle length and mostly black. Dee reluctantly chose one of the skirts and held the long garment to her waist.
It could be more hideous, I suppose.
“Yes, this was one of Miz Tillman’s favorite everyday skirts. She wore it with this lovely blouse most of the time.”
The “lovely blouse,” white with an extremely high collar and long sleeves, bore a touch of frilly lace down the front.
Nuns don’t wear this much!
“Go ahead, take off those . . . things and we’ll see how this fits.” Mrs. Masters, apparently used to getting her way, had disdain oozing from every pore.
“How long has Miz Tillman been gone?” Dee continued to stall for time.
“Nearly two years. The poor doctor missed her so. Come along now.”
With a sigh, Dee lifted the T-shirt over her head, exposing her bra. If Dusty guessed right, she now stood trapped in the age of ladies’ maids. Since she had none with her, these women were here to assist her.
“What is that? Where are your stays?”
Dee stopped, holding the T-shirt in front of her. “My bra? I don’t wear stays.”
“Every proper woman wears stays. You might not mind being so immodest. However, such actions will not be so in this house.”
Mrs. Douglas, with the men gone, had recovered her courage and spoke. “That looks so comfortable. It must be French.”
“Yes. This is a brassiere or bra for short. It takes the place of stays and is much cooler in the summer.” Thank God she hadn’t worn a thong this morning. Her panties were going to cause a frenzy but there didn’t seem to be any place to hide in this room. And no one seemed inclined to leave. Good Lord, was there indoor plumbing in the house?
Dee slipped on the blouse. The fit, more than a little roomy around the waist, was a bit tight through the bust.
“I can do the alternations for you,” Mrs. Douglas offered.
“Thank you, Miz Douglas. I’m not very good with a needle in cloth.” She winked at Daphne who appeared startled, then laughed.
“Please, call me Millie, Doctor Stevens.”
“I’m Dee.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“You’re standing here watching me change clothes. I think a first name basis would be fine.”
The woman’s cheeks took on a rosy hue even as Mrs. Masters huffed and stared pointedly at the offending jeans. If she thinks she’s offended now . . . Dee slid down the zipper.
The zipper caused a great deal of excitement and had to be demonstrated several times. Had the zipper even been invented by now? Dee had no one to ask.
Her dark blue bikini underwear drew a derisive sniff from Mrs. Masters, and a look of scandalized delight from Daphne. Dee decided to ignore both and stepped into the skirt. This was also too large around the waist though certainly long enough, yards too long in Dee’s opinion.
“I can have these fixed up in no time,” Millie offered. “You keep those and I’ll take some home to alter right now.”
“I’m sure you’re too busy to—”
“You fixed up my girl. Don’t you bother yourself with thinking about this. I’ll alter what you’re wearing now after I return these. This won’t take any time at all. The hemming is what would have taken the longest and that doesn’t need any work.”
“Should be longer, in my opinion,” Mrs. Masters sniffed.
If you want me to trip over the damn thing, sure.
“What about shoes?” Mrs. Masters asked, interested in spite of herself.
With trepidation Dee studied the black, high-buttoned shoes sitting beside the bed. “I don’t believe those will fit me. I’ll have to make do with these.” Her running shoes weren’t going to be fashionable, but those things Mrs. Tillman had worn looked more like torture devices than shoes. Had the doctor not gotten rid of anything when his wife died?
Millie and Daphne left shortly, taking a bundle of clothing despite Dee’s admonition that she probably would not be in residence long. Hopefully not!
Unfortunately, Mrs. Masters did not leave, though she did retreat to the kitchen. Dee escaped into the doctor’s office once more, leaving her jeans in the bedroom after eliciting a promise from the older woman not to throw them out.
Mrs. Tillman’s stays still lay abandoned on the bed as far as Dee knew. They could remain there for all she cared. That was one battle Mrs. Masters would not win.
Chapter 9
Trudging back to the car with three curious boys in tow, Dusty had no idea how to explain such a futuristic vehicle to them. Dwelling on the problem wouldn’t help. Besides, his mood from the previous evening had returned with the fading of the buzz he hadn’t realized still surrounded them. That couldn’t be from the lack of Dee at his side, could it? He had no choice right now.
Josiah introduced him to his friend Charles as they headed out of town. The boys were a font of information.
“Miss Everett is our teacher, but she’s sick again,” Josiah reported. “That’s why we’re out of school today.”
“She’s been sick a lot since school took back up. I think she’s gettin’ worse,” Joseph offered.
“Mister Cutter, he lives on the west side of town, purchased a gas-powered tractor. Since we had a free day, we wanted to get a look at it. It’s all anybody wants to talk about.”
Dusty listened, keeping quiet. Anything he said would probably be too much. Besides, he needed to figure out a few things. Beyond the obvious, the ‘when’ of 1891 and the ‘where,’ close to the D.C. area, the other urgent question remained—
How?
The boys slowed, then stopped altogether at the sight of the Prius with the front end smashed.
“What is it?” Josiah finally asked.
“Um, our car.” Dusty watched them take in the information.
“Car?”
“Automobile,” Dusty hastily corrected.
“You have an automobile? You must be really rich,” Charles blurted
out before Josiah jabbed him in the ribs.
“I’ve never seen anything like this. The automobiles I’ve seen were black and . . . square,” Josiah marveled.
“Yes, well, where we live they’re beginning to paint them colors, like this green. And make them more aerodynamic for speed.”
“Air-o what?”
“Never mind, it’s a science thing.”
“Are you a scientist?” Josiah asked eagerly. “Is that why you let your wife be a doctor?”
“I don’t let Dee be anything. She’s a grown woman and has a mind of her own. She chose to be a doctor.”
All three boys gaped at him over those words. “A mind of her own? Don’t let Father hear you say that,” Joseph blurted quickly. “The Bible says the man is the head of the house and makes all the decisions.”
“Your father decides how much flour your mother buys when she goes to the store?”
“No, but that’s women’s work. On important things—”
“I think we better get my suitcase and head back. Do you know of anyone who could tow the car into town?”
“Tow?”
“Pull the car into town. The tires are still good.”
“Mister Ferguson has a couple of mules.” Charles pointed to the west. “His farm is over there.”
“What do you think he’d charge me?”
All three boys looked blank at the question. Dusty had money. Hell, he had a small fortune in his wallet for what people earned in these times, but all the bills had impossible dates printed on them. He’d gone to the ATM prior to his trip, so the bills were new and crisp. Not the strongest regarding American History, even he knew paper money was scarce until after 1900.