by Donna Steele
Mrs. Cannon sank into her chair and sighed. “I do, and much good Doc Tillman did me, for all he was a man and knew everything, like Barty. Think you can do anything about it, missy?”
“I’d like to examine your leg and try.”
Dee propped the leg on a stool and began to unwrap it. A linen bandage, crusted and dirty, covered the palm size ulcer. Dee removed the used bandage and examined the wound. “Is the sore larger than a month ago?”
“Yes, but not much. Blasted thing just won’t go away.”
“Do you have diabetes?”
“What’s that?”
“Does too much sugar make you feel bad?”
“Oh yes, I have problems with sugar. ‘Course I am eighty years old, so I have problems with lots of things.”
Dee grinned at the woman’s forthrightness. “I think I can help you with this one. Did Doctor Tillman give you a diet to follow?”
“He tried.” Mrs. Cannon sniffed. “Old coot wouldn’t follow a diet himself. I wasn’t all that surprised when he had a heart attack. The old bugger wanted me to change my ways.”
Dee coughed to hide her amusement. “I’d like to see what he asked you to eat and I want to try something on your leg.”
“Go ahead, if you say you’re a doctor. Nothing has worked so far.”
Dee fought the urge to gawk at this situation. The house had been unlocked, Dee had walked in at an elderly woman’s call, and this same old woman was going to allow what amounted to experimental treatment to her leg by a virtual stranger. Where did this kind of belief and trust in other people exist in the future?
Such acceptance humbled her and she would not abuse the trust she’d received.
Dee helped Mrs. Cannon to her bedroom, leaving the sore open for a few minutes to the air. Someone must be helping out around the house, because the place was immaculate and this woman could barely hobble. “Who lives here with you?”
“My daughter-in-law. Why?”
“Would you like me to show someone how to change the bandage on your leg?”
Mrs. Cannon sniffed. “No, I don’t want her touching my person. She does enough touching of everything around here without my consent.”
“Okay,” Dee agreed as she assisted the woman onto the bed and opened her basket. “This may sting a little.”
“It’ll probably hurt like hell. That’s what Doc Tillman always did.”
With a faint smile, Dee cleaned the wound as gently as possible. The ulcer extended directly above the knee and up her thigh. If she could get the wound to heal, she could try to check out a root cause later.
“You doing okay?” Dee asked Mrs. Cannon.
“Call me Sybil. You have a much gentler touch than the doc ever did.”
Dee bit her lip, not looking up from her hands. She would go with her tried and true method of honey for wound care and gave thanks again for the non-traditional classes she’d taken on the side.
“Now I’m going to cover the wound with honey.”
“Honey? Are you serious?”
“Yes. The honey acts like an extra bandage and gives the wound a chance to heal. I want to leave the honey in place for three days, then I’ll check.”
“You’ve had this work on someone before?”
“Yes, and I used the same thing on Daphne’s wound. Caleb Douglas’ daughter?”
“I don’t get out like I used to. What happened to Daphne?”
Dee brought Sybil up to date on the town gossip she knew as she applied the honey and bandaged the leg. Sybil cackled aloud at Dee’s run-in with Mayor Pickerson, when a woman walked in without knocking.
“Mother? Who are you talking to?” The other woman, taller than Sybil with hair also fully gray, stood inside the door watching them.
“Martha, this is Doc Stevens. She’s taking Doc Tillman’s place. She came to work on my leg.”
Martha, whoever she was, gasped.
For some reason, that proved to be the last straw. Dee turned to the woman. “Yes, I am a fully trained and licensed physician. I don’t have my diploma with me and I am filling the position temporarily until the town fathers find someone with a proper penis to replace me.”
Her words drew another gasp from Martha and a hearty laugh from Sybil.
Dee immediately regretted her outburst but damn it all, this was maddening.
“Martha is my daughter-in-law, Doc. She lives here with me.”
Dee nodded to the woman. “I’m sorry. I should not have been so blunt in my speech but I am getting so tired of everyone questioning my credentials and abilities.”
Still blinking, Martha tried to take everything in.
Sybil snorted. “Martha, close your mouth and stop staring at the doctor. She has a gentle touch and is going to do a better job on this sore than Doc Tillman ever did. Why don’t you get us some refreshments?”
Chapter 17
Dee headed to the kitchen for some tea. Updating the medical journal for her last several patients was top of her priorities, but she stopped when a faint knock sounded from the back door. Glancing around, but not finding Mrs. Masters, Dee headed that way.
She opened the door to a man holding a badly injured, bloody hand to his breast, a dingy piece of cloth wrapped around it.
“My goodness. Come in.”
“Are you the doctor?”
“I am. Let me see what’s happened.” Dee caught hold of the man’s elbow, drawing him into the house. He seemed less than steady on his feet and she questioned how much blood he’d lost.
“I went over to Mister Gussler’s but he was away on a call.”
“Mister Gussler? No, that can wait. Come on in the examining room. Elizabeth?” Dee called.
The man resisted her for a moment. “It’s okay, that I come here?”
“Why would . . .” Then it hit her. This man was black. She hadn’t seen any black patients and hadn’t given it any thought. Why had she not noticed? Who did the black population see for medical attention?
“Elizabeth!”
“Here.” The woman appeared from the front of the house.
“Help me get—I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t ask your name.”
“Uh, Mister Dula, Samson Dula. They call me Sam.”
“Mister Dula, I’m Doctor Stevens. Let’s get you in the examining room.”
Glancing at Dee, Elizabeth didn’t hesitate to take Sam’s other arm as he lurched the next step.
“Elizabeth, once we get Mister Dula settled, please see if Cook has any broth. We need to push fluids and something with protein would be best.”
“Yes, ma’am.” They got him seated and Dee began to unwind the makeshift bandage from his hand. She faced a bad cut and the bleeding started again with the removal of the crusted cloth.
“What happened?” Already cleaning the wound, Dee vaguely noted Elizabeth’s return.
“Cook will be here shortly,” she murmured as she prepared the instruments.
“Thanks.” Dee blew out a breath. “This is deep, Mister Dula.”
“I was sharpening the plow blade and it slipped. The blade and the stone got me.”
“When did this happen?” The cut wasn’t as fresh as she’d first hoped.
“First thing this morning. I started walkin’ into town but Mister Gussler wasn’t ta home and his wife didn’t know when he’d be returnin’.”
“Who is Mister Gussler?”
“He’s the veterinarian here in Braddock’s Crossing,” Elizabeth replied.
“The veterinarian?” Shocked, Dee met Sam’s eyes. “Why didn’t you come here?”
“Doc Tillman didn’t treat . . . I mean, we always go to Mister Gussler.”
“I see. Well, you’re my patient now.” Dee patte
d his shoulder reassuringly. “Let’s save this hand.”
~ ~ ~
As Dee leaned back to stretch and give both herself and Sam a break, he cleared his throat.
“Thank you.” His voice was soft.
“We’re not through yet.”
“Thank you anyway, Doctor Stevens. I figured I’d already lost the hand before I got here. Thought you’d be amputatin’ it.”
“I can’t tell you everything will be like it was before, but no need for amputation. You won’t be using it for several weeks.”
“It’s okay, my boy can help me. He’s good and strong.”
Dee smiled. “Drink some more of the broth. Has it gotten cold?”
“It’s fine, ma’am. Thank you.”
“I want you to come here for any treatment. I’ll need to keep an eye out for infection and to make sure everything’s working right.”
He didn’t meet her eyes.
“Mister Dula?”
“Sam, please. Are you sure?”
“I most certainly am. If it’s too far, I can come to you on my rounds.”
“Oh, no ma’am. I’ll come in.”
“Make sure you do and any of your family needing a doctor’s care. I treat everyone in Braddock’s Crossing.”
Sam glanced over at Elizabeth but her nurse only nodded.
Dee finished the stitching and wrapped the hand thoroughly in linen bandages after applying the honey. She rose and turned to her small supply of emergency penicillin, which wasn’t going to last long. Thank goodness, she hadn’t given it all to Connie.
Trying to grow her own would have to be a priority. “Sam, I’m going to give you an injection.”
“‘Scuse me?”
“A shot. Your hand was exposed to the air a long time before you got here and the blade wasn’t clean. I need to make sure you don’t develop a fever.” She had retrieved a hypodermic needle from her own medical bag. Normally it would be for a single-use injection, but this one would have to be sterilized and reused.
Dee swiped his arm with alcohol. “After I give you the shot, I want you to sit here and rest for a little while, maybe have another cup of broth so I can see if you have any reaction to the medicine.”
It wasn’t until after she had assured herself there was no negative reaction to the penicillin that she realized Sam’s son sat out front in a cart. He hadn’t come to the door as far as she knew, nor had he been asked to wait inside. That was going to change.
Dee helped Sam up into the cart and spoke with the man’s son, giving him some instructions on how to treat the injury and to return if a fever developed.
Once they were gone, she turned to Elizabeth. “The veterinarian? Are you serious?”
“Doc Tillman didn’t treat—”
“I don’t want to hear it. Doctor Tillman was barely above a snake oil salesman. He had actual bottles of “Microbe Killer” in his storage. That’s only a dilute solution of sulfuric acid colored with what seems to be red wine. While I’m the doctor, I’m the doctor. Questions?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, ma’am.”
Chapter 18
Only Dee and Dusty were at the house for dinner. Elizabeth had helped Connie with a light meal, then gone to her own home. Dee would check on their patient tonight. Cook—Dee had finally met her—fixed a Yankee pot roast with fresh vegetables, which had Dee taking a third helping.
Knowing better than to try clearing the table, she let Dusty take her hand and lead her from the dining room. “I want to show you something.” Dusty started to pull her down the hall.
Dee made a quick detour to ensure Connie still slept, then followed Dusty into an unfamiliar room. With Mrs. Masters around, she hadn’t explored much besides the office.
She knew Dusty tried to get her mind off her afternoon. He’d figured out she chastised herself for not realizing earlier that a large population of the town had been ignored. Even Mrs. Masters had made no comment when she’d laid down the law on all future patients.
Dusty led her to what was obviously the formal parlor, filled with dark, beautifully carved and upholstered furniture. “I believe we’re in Miz Tillman’s sitting room.”
Dee nodded and took a seat on the red velvet sofa. “What do you think Miz Masters will do to us if she catches us in here?” She drew out the woman’s name teasingly.
“You made a lasting impression with Connie’s surgery.”
She sobered fast. “I probably lost points for this afternoon.”
“I’m not sure. I think she’s backing off some.” Dusty took the seat beside her. “Tell me about the rest of your day.”
“So different from Georgetown, but a lot of the injuries remain the same. Splinters, broken bones.” She reported on Mrs. Cannon and a couple of walk-ins with minor complaints, some seen by Elizabeth while she treated Sam Dula. No need to go into any detail on treatments.
With a deep breath, she changed the subject. “Tell me about teaching.”
“Interesting and in my case, so different from the lab. The kids listened to me and asked questions after they warmed up. I know I’m an anomaly right now but if I can get them to hear, maybe I can get them to learn some new things. This is not like talking to the clients of my company.”
Dee heard the surprise in his voice that teaching school had gone well. “You’re not going to tell me you’re not good with people again, are you?”
“I’m not?”
“Pickerson? Miz Masters? Come on, Dusty.”
He grew quiet for moment. “I did that because they were going after you.”
“Me?”
“The jeans, that pesky ‘being a woman with brains’ thing. I wouldn’t have done anything otherwise.”
“My knight in shining armor.”
He huffed. “You don’t need the protection. You’re more than capable of looking after yourself, it just . . . came out.”
“I’m glad. At least you knew what was going on. I’m the one who would have screwed everything up. I still might.”
“No, you won’t.” Dusty caressed her fingers. “There’s a kid in the class I’m worried about.”
“In what way?”
“Abuse. I didn’t see any bullying going on today, but I was the freak show and everyone focused on me. This kid had bruises he tried to hide with his clothes. I’d swear he’d been strapped. Looked hungry, too.”
Dusty sighed, then abruptly switched gears to something more critical. “Okay, time travel. Considering my studies, and according to everything I was taught, time travel cannot be accomplished, except of course we’re here. In all the science fiction I’ve read, the warning is you shouldn’t do anything to change the timeline. There could be disastrous consequences in the future. We’ve blundered in and changed things left and right.”
“I suppose we have, but what else could we do?”
“I’m not sure. You couldn’t let Daphne bleed to death, or Connie die. These people have seen you in jeans. They saw the Prius as the damned thing was pulled into town. I changed the seating arrangement at school to plain alphabetical, instead of separating the boys and the girls. I’m trying to imagine what the consequences might be.”
“Well, as for mixing the boys and girls together, I can only think that’s a good thing. I’m so tired of everyone staring at me like I’m a freak because I have a man’s job. Talk about a second-class citizen.”
“I agree, but that’s emotional, not scientific.”
She huffed impatiently. “I know. This is not something I’ve ever given any consideration to. Maybe while I watched ‘Star Trek,’ but never seriously. I’m not going to stop helping these people when I can. You obviously aren’t either, if you’re already worried about a student.”
“No, I don’t wan
t to do that. But I wonder what’s happening at home.”
Dee let her head fall onto the back of the sofa. “Do you mean will I still be born in the future if I take a splinter out of a farmer’s arm today?”
“Yeah. Butterfly Effect. The thing is, we’d already changed things before we even knew what was happening.”
“I’m still stuck on how this is theoretically impossible. And that makes me feel off balance,” Dee admitted.
“I know. When I stop to think about it, my mind reels.” Dusty picked up her hand again and laced his fingers with hers. “Thank you for taking me to the airport, or trying to.”
She chuckled. “Anytime, literally.” Her expression grew serious. “We still don’t know each other. Tell me something about you.”
“I’m not interesting.”
“Don’t pull that one on me again. Or tell me you’re not good with people. I’ve already seen it’s bullshit. You were on target with the way you talked to the mayor, Caleb. Everyone. You were the perfect combination of being in charge yet showing deference. You haven’t been in a ‘lab’ since this started, but look at you. Miz Masters deferred to you over dinner tonight. And those boys who went with you to the car have already started a fan club. I saw you with them.”
“I told you, it’s because of you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t see what I see.”
Before he could demur again, she jumped in. “Tell me about your family. If I’m going to play the part of your wife, I need some information.”
~ ~ ~
For an instant, Dusty felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him. He’d eased into this world because of her. He’d honestly forgotten she wasn’t his wife. Her statement was an unseen blow, staggering him. Play the part of your wife.
What a fucking idiot he was. Of course she felt that way. She had friends and probably a man waiting for her at home he knew nothing about.
“Play?” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Being with him wasn’t real for her, not like it had become for him. His voice sounded strangled even to him.