by Lyn Cote
She looked directly into his eyes—as she always did. He read the concern for him there and looked away. This isn’t about me, Mercy.
“Lon, I believe I am wanted here. I have been accepted as a doctor by most of the people in town. Why should I let one foolish word soaped on my window and one nasty, ill-natured man make me turn tail and run?” Her voice strengthened with each word. “I am not a coward. And neither are thee.”
He ignored her last sentence. “Of course you’re not a coward. But we could be happy in California—”
She gave up trying to control her hair, her hands dropping to her lap. “I suppose,” she said, looking up at him and speaking in a wry tone, “thee will spend thy nights gambling and I will practice medicine?”
“Of course not.” Her words and sarcasm tightened his forehead. He rubbed it, trying to ward off a head ache. “I’ll find gainful employment. I’m educated. I could read law there.”
“Why can thee not do that here in the Idaho Territory?”
Her cool question drew the headache nearer. “I’ve had it with this place.” He struck his open palm with his other hand. “I was stabbed here. Now this doctor is harassing you. Let’s go. Start fresh in California.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “I will not run.”
He wanted to lift her out of her chair and shake her. “It isn’t worth the fight. Now some of these townspeople accept you. But wait and see—if a male doctor comes to town, they’ll drop you like a hot rock. You can’t count on them. The people here will let you down.”
“I don’t think so,” she said slowly.
“You don’t know that for sure. And there’s worse coming. Have you considered Indigo? Do you want to put her through the indignity of a trial? To make her go through that public humiliation?”
“I hope it won’t come to that.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“What’s going to stop it from coming to that— I’ve just proposed marriage to you. Isn’t that of more importance to you than Dr. Drinkwater?”
Mercy gazed at him, mouth open and wordless.
“Do you love me or not?” Lon asked.
“Thee has not spoken of love—”
“I will,” he cut her off, enjoying the sensation of at last leaving her without much to say, “if that will persuade you to leave with me. Do you love me?”
Mercy fussed with papers on her desk.
The door opened and Ma Bailey walked in. “Oh!” she exclaimed, looking back and forth between the two of them with palpable curiosity and glee. She must have seen him heading here and followed him.
“What can I do for thee, Ma Bailey?” Mercy asked in a colorless voice, blushing.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything…private,” Ma said, thick innuendo layering her words.
“No, we were discussing this business with Indigo,” Mercy responded with aplomb and a lift of her chin.
“That Boise doctor sure has his nerve,” the older woman agreed, her face darkening. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know my daughter and her man arrived in town today.”
Lon gritted his teeth to keep from sending the woman away with a few choice, pithy words he’d long wanted to unleash upon her.
“Well, that is good news.” Mercy smiled. “I’m sure thee is glad to have her safely here with thee.”
“I am.” Ma glanced at both of them. Her eyes spoke volumes of nosiness.
Lon paced again, sure that this private tête-à-tête would be broadcast through the community within hours. The headache began throbbing right under one eyebrow.
“I’ll leave you two alone then.” The older woman left with a wave and a self-satisfied grin.
Lon halted in front of Mercy and leaned toward her. “If for nothing else, come with me and get away from that snooping, meddlesome woman.”
Mercy grinned but then grew somber. “No matter where we would go—” she reached up and touched his hair, smoothing it back from his face, soothing the pounding of his headache “—there would be a Ma Bailey there, too.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and hovered over Mercy, willing her to agree with him. “I want to leave this town. And I want you and Indigo to go with me.”
She gazed up at him with maddening calm. “I must not leave till I know that is what God wants me to do. Until then I will stay and fight.”
Lon gritted his teeth. When was this woman going to realize that their lives were their lives and they must live them their own way? He tried to put this into persuasive words.
He couldn’t. He made a sound of disgust and walked out into the brisk evening. Why couldn’t she see that she was setting herself and Indigo up for indignity and scorn? Could he bear to stand by and watch?
Mercy woke to a knock on her door. “Who is it?” she called.
“It’s me, Sunny. My time’s come.”
Mercy quickly opened the door. “Come in. How long has thee been having contractions?”
Groaning, Sunny entered and halted, clutching the back of a chair. “For most of the night. I finally decided—” Sunny paused, wincing “—I didn’t want to have the baby in my room over the saloon so…I decided to come here.”
Mercy reached for her robe on the end of the bed. Indigo sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Indigo, Sunny will need the bed. Will thee prepare it for her?” Indigo yawned and nodded, rising.
Mercy helped Sunny sit on the chair. Then she turned to hang the full iron kettle on the hook over the fire. She added some more wood to the fire and stirred the coals. Soon Indigo had the bed ready. And then Mercy started walking Sunny. The contractions came closer and closer and stronger and stronger.
Dawn was just breaking at its fullest when Mercy helped Sunny’s little girl into the world. The exhausted woman wept and laughed, touching her little one gently.
Watching Sunny hold her newborn daughter brought tears to Mercy’s eyes. Every baby was a gift from God. Would she ever hold a newborn of her own? It was a startling idea—one she’d never had before. Lon, of course, or kissing Lon was what had put this in her mind. How would this all turn out in the end? She knew she didn’t have the power to change Lon’s mind and heart. Only God could heal the pain of the past. Then Mercy noticed tears streaming in Indigo’s eyes. Because Pierre had not returned.
Mercy drew in breath, pushing all these concerns aside. She’d received a letter from Felicity saying that she would send someone by train to get the child. But Mercy hadn’t heard from her parents, who lived so much farther east.
She decided she would telegraph them today. She couldn’t leave Sunny to bring her child—though unwillingly—into the life Sunny had been born into. Sunny obviously didn’t want that. And Mercy was absolutely certain God didn’t want that, either.
Later the next day, Mercy stood at the front of the church for her latest venture in teaching public health practices. On the table beside her were the items needed for smallpox vaccinations. The scent of freshly sprayed carbolic acid hung over them. Seven mothers had lined up to receive the vaccinations. Mercy tried to keep her mind on this—not on Sunny, who was recovering in her cabin, not on the troublesome Boise doctor, and absolutely not on Lon Mackey.
Mercy smiled, hoping to reassure the women; each looked back at her very anxiously. “Now, Indigo is going to allow thee to see her smallpox mark so thee will know what to expect after the vaccination. Please go one by one behind the screen—” Mercy pointed to the screen set up behind her “—and Indigo will show thee.”
The women took turns. As Mercy watched this procession, Lon Mackey’s words ribboned through her mind. His visit to her office had tangled her emotions into a terrible knot. She knew she could do little to alter her feelings for Lon. What a predicament she was in.
Lon had changed so much over the past few months that she had let herself hope that he would at last put the past behind him and find peace with God again. And, yes, that they might have a life together. She admitted this to herself now. Lon was angry, and she knew
that it had to do with what he’d gone through in the war. He was angry at himself, and at God.
The four bloody years had been dreadful enough to live through. Why would someone as intelligent as Lon hold on to the horror and grief and regret? Of course, perhaps Lon didn’t see it that way. Perhaps he didn’t believe he had the right or the power to release the past. How could he expect her to leave with him when his life and his faith were so unresolved?
Finally, all seven mothers had seen the vaccination mark on Indigo’s upper left arm. Most of them looked determined. A few looked frightened. Mercy took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand. “Now, if thee is not certain that thee wants to do this, thee doesn’t have to.”
“This really will protect us from smallpox?” Ellen asked, gazing at the needles and the small brown bottle of vaccine.
“Yes, it will,” Mercy said firmly. “But remember that thee may experience redness and swelling at the site of the vaccination. Thee may run a slight fever for a few days. Thee might actually get some of the symptoms of the disease, such as a mild rash. When I was a child, my parents had all of their daughters vaccinated in Philadelphia. Each of us had a combination of those side effects, except for my sister, Felicity, who had none. But we were fine after a few days.”
Her mind kept calling up the image of Lon pacing in her office. Had she made the right decision, not accepting Lon’s proposal? The answer came quickly: she couldn’t say yes to Lon until he had broken free of the past. Until he’d allowed God to make him whole again, and had acknowledged God once more. If she consented to become one with him before that had taken place, it could stunt his healing and leave him wounded longer still. She felt this unpalatable truth like a stiff rod up her spine.
Mercy cleared her throat. “These vaccinations have been given for the past seventy-some years. And I know that they do work. I myself was exposed to smallpox several times during the war and did not fall ill.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Ellen unbuttoned her starched white cuff and rolled up her left sleeve. “I’m ready.”
Mercy smiled and began the process of pricking Ellen’s arms and introducing the vaccine solution. Maybe Mercy should seek Lon out later and help him see that she was right, that they had to stay and fight—
The double doors of the church flapped open. Ma Bailey hurried inside, shutting the doors against the stiff November wind. “Sorry I’m late!” she exclaimed, sounding breathless and hurrying down the aisle. “I want to see this.” She halted and stared at Mercy and Ellen. “I don’t see how sticking a needle over and over into Ellen Dunfield’s arm is going to keep her from getting smallpox.”
Mercy didn’t turn. “I have explained it—”
“Did you know that the gambler just left town on a supply wagon heading for Boise?” Ma gazed at Mercy with avid interest.
Mercy’s breath caught in her throat. Despair and shock washed over her in debilitating waves. Nonetheless, her training stood up to the challenge; her hands didn’t falter in their work. She went on pricking Ellen’s skin and infusing the vaccine.
It was good that her hands knew their work because her mind had whirled away from her, her stomach churning with acid. Lon Mackey had gone to Boise. And without a word of farewell to her. What had she done? And would she ever see him again?
When Lon climbed down from the supply wagon’s bench near dark, he was chilled to the marrow and stiff. He needed to buy a warmer hat and some gloves. Still aching from the hard bench, he limped slightly, heading toward the brightly lit saloon. His spirits limped along, too. He’d left Mercy behind. He’d finally decided that the only way to make her see sense was to leave. But how long would it take for her to come to her senses and follow him here? He didn’t like to think of her facing Indigo’s trial alone, but that might force her to leave Idaho Bend.
Putting this from his mind, he kept walking. He’d warm up in the nearest saloon and see if they had a gambler already. He needed to get started making money again. He walked into a large saloon, saw the stove against the back wall and walked straight to it. He stood with his back to it, letting the fire warm him as he viewed the gathering of men.
He observed that a professional gambler was already plying his trade. When Lon was completely thawed, he tipped his hat to the gambler and headed outside to find the next saloon. Boise was twice as big as Idaho Bend and had more than twice the saloons.
At the third saloon he visited, he sat down in his favorite spot in the middle of the room, but near the back wall with his face toward the door. He took off his heavy wool coat and began to shuffle the cards. He suppressed the feeling that he didn’t really want to be here doing this.
When Mercy came to her senses and was forced to leave Idaho, he’d keep his promise and find a more genteel way to make a living. Through the yellow cigar smoke, two well-dressed men and a man who obviously worked with his hands sat down at his table. Lon grinned. He broke the seal on a new deck of cards, shuffled them and asked the first man who’d sat down to cut the deck. Then he dealt the first hand, the cards slipping, whispering expertly through his palms.
Yet something strange was happening. Lon had the oddest sensation, as if he were outside his body watching himself, as if he were acting a part in a play. It was as if he’d split himself in two and only one part was aware of this. He shook off the odd impression. Leaving Mercy behind so she would wake up and realize that he was right must be causing havoc with his mind.
He’d left her a letter, which he’d read and reread so many times he’d memorized it.
Dear Mercy,
When you come to your senses, I will be in Boise waiting for you. I think it’s wrong to put Indigo up on public display in a court of law and allow her to be humiliated before the common herd. Come to Boise. We’ll marry and the three of us will move to California. I’ll give up gambling and pursue some sort of work. And you can start your practice again.
Now he forced himself to think only of the cards and the faces of the players sitting across from him.
In the middle of the third game of the night, Lon heard the swinging doors open and looked up. Lightning flashed, sizzling through him. He almost leaped to his feet. His heart thudded in his chest. But he retained enough sense to make no outward sign that the man now standing in the doorway was the very man who had stabbed him. Lon held this all inside as the game proceeded. How should he handle this? Why wasn’t the sheriff around when he was needed?
At the end of another hand, Lon saw his quarry turn to leave. That decided him. He leaped to his feet. “Stop that man!” he shouted. “He’s a wanted man!” His shouts stirred up confusion. The men in the saloon looked around, exclaiming, questioning.
Lon shoved his way through the crowd in time to see the small mustachioed man hurrying out the doors. Lon burst through after him, drawing his pistol from his vest pocket. “Halt! Or I’ll shoot!”
Chapter Thirteen
Still grieving Lon’s desertion, Mercy froze in her tracks on Main Street. Four men had ridden into town—one was the unwelcome doctor and the other three were strangers, but they all wore black suits and tall stovepipe hats, the sign of professional men. The judge perhaps? Another deputy? A lawyer? She could practically feel her stomach sliding down toward her toes.
Digger had said the territorial circuit court judge wasn’t due until next week. I might be jumping to conclusions. Mercy’s beleaguered mind slipped away from Main Street. Lon, I want you here. Why did you leave me? The raw ache over Lon’s leaving Idaho Bend throbbed throughout her whole being, physical and emotional. Her spirit whispered, Isn’t God sufficient for thee?
“You think that’s the judge?”
Mercy jerked and turned to Ma Bailey who had appeared at her elbow.
“I don’t know.” The four men tied up their horses and stopped at the door of the new hotel that had opened last week. The doctor was now pointing her out to the other three and sneering.
As Mercy grappled with what this mig
ht mean, she didn’t relish the prospect of a conversation with this intrusive woman. Yet she smiled politely, if not sincerely. “Is thee enjoying having thy daughter and son-in-law with thee?”
“Yes,” Ma said in a sad voice, twisting the apron she wore over her faded brown dress and shawl. “But my son-in-law says he won’t have no woman doctor tend his wife when her time comes. I told him you’re a good doc, but he forbid it.”
Irritation crackled through Mercy. For a moment the urge to snap at the woman nearly overwhelmed her better sense. Then she looked into the older woman’s deep brown eyes, now filling with tears.
As always, Ma had said exactly what she meant to say without much consideration of another’s feelings. Sometimes that was good and sometimes that was bad. But a person always knew where she stood with Ma.
Now Mercy read in Ma’s tear-filled eyes worry for her daughter’s safety. This son-in-law’s verdict against Mercy was an untimely and unnecessary reminder of how the world at large judged her. It nearly triggered her own tears. She inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Maybe he’ll change his mind,” Ma offered, the lines in her face trembling as she fought against weeping.
Her words echoed in Mercy’s mind and shifted her thoughts to Lon. The thought didn’t ease the pain of Lon’s desertion, but it did put it into perspective. Lon was a man and he’d made a mistake. But if he wanted to turn back, he could change his mind.
“Maybe.” Mercy put an arm around Ma’s shoulders, offering sympathy. “Maybe he will.”
Ma lifted the hem of her apron and wiped her eyes, whispering, “I don’t want anything to happen to my girl.”
Mercy stood there, comforting this rough woman who had a good heart buried deep inside her crusty exterior and nosy ways. Resting her head heavily on Mercy’s shoulder, Ma wept without making a sound.