Neil looked at him, nodded, and asked, "What's that?"
"I went back to the...the place...you know," he said, in a low voice. "And, I found this beneath some leaves. It might have been on the blanket, and fallen off earlier when I picked it up. There appears to be some writing on it...but I can't really make anything out. There's just so much blood."
Stratton held out his hand. When Frank gave him the paper, he held it up, squinted his eyes, and studied it. "I think the first letter is a 'B' and maybe an 'r', but after that, your guess is as good as mine."
He offered it back to the sheriff, who shook his head and pointed to the edge of the porch. Frank didn't want to touch it again, if he could help it.
Then, Neil said, "Come on. Help me put the poor child in the coffin. Then we can set it back underneath the porch again."
Kit and the doctor walked around the corner. "Wait," the doctor said, "I want to look at her once more, so I can make notes for the judge."
They set the open coffin down on the ground and stepped back. Victoria bent and began unbuttoning the girl's shirtwaist, as she asked Kit, "Please bring me something to wrap her in. I think we need to keep the dress."
Frank blanched, and asked, "Is that necessary? Really?"
"Yes," the doctor stated, "Something bothered me earlier, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I realized, this dress is the same style as the other girl's. I'm also fairly certain it's made from the same fabric. It might help us connect things later. And, it's already stiff with blood. We don't want it contaminated with more fluids from decomposition."
She looked at the sheriff and added, "I've asked Neil to make a small crate, after he'd finished the coffin. That way it's made from new wood, and won't be tainted by anything it might have previously contained. We'll put her dress, the blanket, and the knitting needle in there, along with my sketches and all our notes. I'm not sure who should keep it. Probably you, since you are the sheriff. But, you might prefer Gus keep it—so it isn't discovered by anyone."
Meg had stepped onto the porch, looked at them, and said, "If the box isn't huge, I can store it. Gus built a hiding place in the house. No one will stumble across it there."
Frank smiled up at her, and asked, "Are you feeling better, Miss Meg?"
"Yes, thank you," wearing a wan smile, she answered.
"I'm very glad of that," Frank said. "Although, I have to admit, I felt ill, as well. I just can't believe that this is happening—here, in Manchester. We've never had such happenings. Never!"
*****
Dr. Thorne sat with her arms on the table in the tiny kitchen in the surgery, with her head on her arms, silently weeping.
This was bad. Very bad.
Even though the sheriff had agreed to keep today's incident a secret—at least until the judge arrived, later in the week—everything would get out. It was bound to. Once the second girl's death became common knowledge, Victoria was sure she would be finished as Manchester's doctor.
Neil entered through the front door of the office and wandered into the kitchen. However, when he found her crying, he pulled a chair close to her, sat down, and in a soft voice, asked, "Why are you crying? Has something else happened?"
"Lord! I hope not," she responded, as she tried to sit up and dry her eyes. She looked at him and asked, "Is it done? Is she...buried?"
He merely nodded his answer. Then he repeated, "Why are you crying?"
"Another girl has died—of a self-induced abortion. There's a very good chance she would eventually have died from the syphilis. She most probably would have infected the child. Things like this don't happen in small, close communities like Manchester." She shook her head, and continued, "I'm the new person in town. I'm the one people will be most likely to attribute all these awful things to. I'm very much afraid I won't be here to have you build my new surgery."
"Why?"
"Oh, Neil...the young woman died of an abortion. Don't you see?"
"But, you said she'd done it herself."
"She did, but it won't matter."
"Why?"
She stared at him and realized he really didn't understand. She took a deep breath and answered, "Throughout the ages, women who acted as apothecaries or pseudo-physicians have been seen as abortionists. Just as until the last twenty years or so, nurses were perceived as prostitutes. No one will believe she performed the abortion on herself. And, I'll be lucky if I'm not tarred and feathered, before I'm run out of town on a rail."
"Don't be silly," Neil insisted. "No one who knows you could think ill of you."
"While I appreciate your confidence, I can't believe it's true. The story will get out—another young woman has died. And, whoever could think someone could do that to herself.
"No, they might not come right out and accuse me—at first. But, they'll start talking about how outlandish the story is. After a while, they'll remember about the other girl, and how I was the first person who saw her. Eventually, they'll begin talking about how nothing like this happened in Manchester—before I came here.
"First people will talk behind my back. Then, they'll gossip right in front of me—merely lowering their voices. But, they'll keep glancing at me. They'll make it quite clear who they're talking about. And then finally, they'll point their fingers at me, outright. They'll be most out-spoken about the 'unnatural woman' who had trained to be a doctor; and how once she came to town young women began dying."
She felt herself sag further down in the chair, and fought to keep from beginning to sob again.
Neil Stratton reached out for her hand, and taking hold of it, said, "Dr. Thorne...Victoria...Rose..."
At Rose, she lifted her head and stared at him. "See, I was sure you could hear me," Neil told her, in a light tone. "Now, I am going to repeat what I just said, and I want you to listen to me very carefully. And then, I want you to believe it. No one who's met you will ever think such awful things. No one!"
"If only I could be as certain as you are," she sighed. "I like Manchester, but it's more than me being forced to move on. I've made a commitment to you. Why, I practically talked you into giving up your farm and change occupations. You changed your life, based on my hiring you to build my new surgery. What will you do, if I'm forced to leave?"
"If it should come to that," Neil began, in a very serious voice, "and I still don't believe that could ever happen—but if it should—then I'll leave town with you. We'll pack up the surgery equipment and my mother's bedroom suite, and anything else we want in my wagon and go to find a new town. A town even nicer than this."
"Neil, please don't say such truck," the doctor told him, but she was smiling.
"I'm serious, Rose. I hope you know I'm a man of my word."
Flushing red, the doctor replied, "Of course I do. I never meant...it's just..."
"Listen, I wouldn't have the use of my hand, if not for you. I know I was wary of you at first—skeptical of a woman doctor. But, when I'm wrong, I'm not ashamed to say I'm wrong. You are the best doctor I've ever had treat me.
"I've had stitches before, but no one ever was so neat, and no one's ever been so strict about keeping me immobilized. And, I've never known a doctor to check on the stitches, and even take out a few to clean out the wound and redo them.
"I saw the way you treated that dead girl—with such reverence and sorrow. You are one of the best people I've ever known. Not just doctor, but person. Should you feel you need to leave Manchester, I will move with you. And then, when we find a new place, I will build you your new surgery."
"Neil..."
"I mean it, Rose. I can I call you Rose, can't I? I know you aren't particularly fond of it. But it suits you. And, I like it."
"Yes," she acquiesced, "I suppose."
"Good." After a few moments he said, "You know, I hear the women in Montana are treated as equals. They're even allowed to vote. And, it's supposed to become a state this year, or next. Maybe that's the place for us."
The doctor looked at him with a wan s
mile.
*****
Frank entered the hotel, carrying a small wooden crate, and asked to see the judge. Joe left the desk, and returned after several minutes, accompanied by Mr. Stuart, the judge's clerk.
"I understand you need to speak to the judge, sheriff?" the clerk asked. "He's almost through for the day. Could you wait for him? I don't believe it will be more than twenty minutes or so."
"Yes. I'll wait. If I'm not here, I must have been called out on official duty. Thank you."
"Well, hello, Frank. How are you?" Judge Preston asked. "Jim said you wanted to speak to me."
"Yes, sir. I...we...have a problem—here in Manchester." He thrust out the box, and said, "The information is all in here. We've all...the ones who've been involved...written out our own version of the first incident, for you to review. If you are free for dinner later, I'll come and take you to Miss Strong's. You remember Miss Strong, don't you?"
"Of course, I do." He gave Frank a penetrating stare and asked, "You are seriously worried over this...whatever it is, aren't you? All of you?"
"Yes, we are judge. But, we'll speak about it over dinner. You need to go through these first. I'll be back for you about six, all right?"
Chapter Sixteen
"Well, Miss Strong, it is nice to see you again," Judge Preston said as he climbed the steps to where Meg waited for him, just outside the back door. "And, looking so very well. I guess Manchester agrees with you."
"Yes," she answered, "It's a wonderful community. Or, at least, it was..."
"Yes, so I've been reading. And, I have the uncomfortable feeling that I'm not here for a lovely dinner. I'm going to find out even more unpleasantness, am I not?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so. But please, come in, and let me introduce you to a few people who are new to Manchester. And, Miranda Hendriksen. I don't believe you've met her before."
"No, I haven't had that pleasure," he said. From the way he looked at her, as he said it, she knew Frank had told him the truth about Charles and Carl Hendriksens' deaths.
"Miranda, this is Judge Preston. Judge, this is Miranda Hendriksen," Meg said as she began the introductions. "And this," she said, pointing to Victoria, "is our new town physician, Dr. Victoria Thorne. The gentleman standing beside Gus, wearing the sling, is Neil Stratton. Who's planning on beginning a carpentry business, as soon as his hand is completely healed."
"Well, Dr. Thorne," the judge said, as he grasped her hand in both of his and shook it firmly, "I'm very happy to meet you. My daughter will be so pleased I've actually met a lady doctor. She's very involved with Women's Rights. Why," he continued, "I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't make a trip here, herself, just to meet you. But, I better warn you, she'll be after you to join the movement. At the very least, she'll try and get you to come and speak at one of her suffragettes' meeting."
Finally, he released the doctor's hand, and turned to Neil. "And, it's nice to meet you. I only hope your hand is better very soon."
"Oh, it's coming along very well. Dr. Thorne is an excellent doctor. I'd even go as far as saying," as he took the judge's hand, "she's one of the best physicians I've ever met."
Victoria blushed and busied herself with shifting things on the table, while Gus came forward. "I know you met Mrs. Swenson, but I don't think you've met her daughter, Eva. And, the other young lady is Kit. She helps in the doctor's office. Grew up there."
"Miss Eva. Miss Kit," the judge said, with a tiny bow in their directions.
"Well, now that everyone has been introduced, shall we sit down and have some dinner?" Meg asked. "Why don't you sit here, Judge Preston? Victoria, Miranda, why don't you sit on either side of him. And, then Gus and Neil, and Eva and Kit. I'll sit at the end here, near the stove and icebox, just in case we've forgotten something."
*****
Once everyone was seated and served, and the judge said how good the food tasted, he cleared his throat and began, "I read through all your...ah...reports. And, I do find it not only strange, but disturbing that no one came forward about the girl's identity. However, I'm not sure how I can help. And, I was confused by the other things in the crate—by the sketches, blanket, dress, knitting needle, and the bloody scrap of paper."
"The thing is," Dr. Thorne said, setting her knife and fork down, leaned forward, and continued, "that something else, even more evil and distressing has happened. And, I'm very much afraid we have placed the sheriff in an extremely awkward position."
"Why don't you tell me what's going on?" the judge said, as he reached for another muffin.
By the time they'd finished telling Judge Preston all that had happened a few days before, no one really cared about dessert. Eva put on coffee and water to make tea while Kit cleared the table. Once the coffee and tea were finished and set on the table, the two younger girls went to the scullery to do the dishes, leaving the others to discuss the situation.
"While I understand why you've all acted as you did," the judge finally said, "it's all highly unorthodox, and very possibly illegal, somehow. Although, for the life of me, I can't think of any actual charges—other than the hiding of the girl's death, and burying her. And, in truth, I'm not even sure of any real criminal charges, off-hand. I mean, if you'd found the young woman on the open prairie, you would have buried her, brought in her possessions and anything else you found, and turned them into the local authorities.
"Still," the judge insisted, "it's all most unusual."
"I take full responsibility for insisting the girl be buried, Your Honor," Victoria stated firmly. "And that was for the safety of the public's health."
"Yes, I understand that. And, you think the two girls were related?"
"I'm afraid so, sir," Victoria answered.
"Do any of you have an idea as to what is going on? I mean, aside from someone running a secret brothel, that is. Is there anyone you suspect?"
Meg gave Gus a severe look, but it didn't do any good, because he blurted out, "Well, I have a suspect. This man, Brumbell, bought a number of properties recently. And, he's taken over the running of the saloon—which has become rowdier than ever before."
"Now, Gus..." Margaret said, "You know you have absolutely no proof to validate your suspicions."
"What about the bloody bit of paper? It had 'Br' on it. Remember?"
"I don't think that proves anything," Meg argued.
"Perhaps, not," he insisted, "except he immediately went to the doctor and threatened her, after she complained to Frank about the noise from his saloon."
"He what?" the judge asked.
"Brumbell burst into the surgery," Neil said, "to tell her he wasn't going to honor her lease. And when she asked what he'd do if she fought him, he made some veiled threat about 'something might happen to force her out' earlier. He didn't know I was staying upstairs. And, he backed down once I appeared. Although, he did give the doctor a very lewd look, along with an equally insulting innuendo."
"Well, I can have Mr. Stuart do a bit of checking on him. But, I'm afraid it will take time. Now, what about these girls? Clearly you all believe they're being forced to work in a brothel. Any idea where it is?" Judge Preston asked.
"Absolutely," Gus said. "Isn't it obvious? It must be in the saloon!"
"I knew you thought that," Frank said. "I admit it—I thought so, too. But, I've had my deputies paying special attention to the saloon. And, I am very sorry to report that they have noticed nothing out of the ordinary—other than a bit more noise and fist fights—while they're open for business."
"I've seen a man," Neil added, "several times. He comes down the alley beside the saloon from the back."
"Yes," Frank answered, "my men have seen him, as well. They've even stopped him once or twice because of the late hour. But, he's a cleaner. They're also ordered to circle the building numerous times a night—every night. And they've never found anything. There aren't even any lights on anywhere."
Miranda set her tea cup onto its saucer and said, "But, if there is...a...a b
rothel, mustn't it have patrons? There wouldn't be any point if there weren't. Can't you or your deputies discover who is...ah...availing themselves of the offered services?"
"My men know my feelings about such things," Gus stated flatly. "If any of them are patronizing the establishment, they wouldn't let anyone know—except other customers."
"The problem," Judge Preston began, "is that no one wants to be associated with such places. So, the men who go to them will do all they can to conceal the fact."
"Yes, of course," Meg agreed. "But, there has to be a way to find the place. It just can't be invisible."
"How do the patrons find it?" Victoria asked.
"How do criminals find other criminals?" Frank said, "They just do."
"Perhaps," the doctor began, "we're approaching this from the wrong direction. These girls are obtained from somewhere. Maybe there's some way we could find where they're coming from?"
"But, we don't even know who they are," Frank countered.
"All right," Victoria said, "not them specifically. But, what if we queried some orphanages—in a big city, like Chicago? Find out if they are willing to farm out young women—to work in factories or as domestics? They might provide us with a list of other institutions also willing to supply workers."
"You know," Gus said, "that might not be a bad notion. What if I send a telegram to my attorney, asking if he can find such an institution?"
"But why Chicago?" the judge asked.
"Because, I think we would have heard of girls missing from other surrounding towns. If nothing else, you, Judge, would have been notified. Chicago is so big, people and things are easier to hide."
"True. True," Judge Preston conceded. Then, he pushed himself away from the table, announcing, "Well, I will stay in touch with you. I'll make sure Jim leaves you with the schedule of where I'll be and when. I'm most sorry about the reason we met, ladies. However, I'm very glad to have done so. But, now, if you'll excuse me, I have a train to catch in the morning."
"Just a second," Gus said. He rose, went to the desk, and retrieved a set of papers. "We had hoped you could finalize the transfer of some property from Mrs. Hendriksen to the doctor."
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