Glancing around, she tried to find the source of the sound. The scream erupted again. The entire room grew quiet save for that gut-wrenching screaming. Sarah realized it was coming from upstairs. Lucy!
Moving toward the stairs, she saw the man come out of the room and barrel down the stairs. He pushed past her and headed out into the street. Grabbing the railing, she flew up the stairs. As she burst into the room, she saw a naked Lucy sitting on the floor. Her right arm was hanging at an odd angle and her wrist bone protruded through the skin.
Rushing into the room, she grabbed the stained white sheet and pulled it around the other woman. The screams had subsided to loud sobs and she was shaking uncontrollably.
"Stay right here. I will go get help," Sarah said as she rose and rushed back downstairs. She skidded to a stop when she found the bartender. "I need help to get her to the carriage and back to the boarding house."
With his help, she got Lucy downstairs still wrapped in a sheet. The men playing cards watched but never said a word. Anger burned inside her as she watched them sit in silence. Of course, none of them good God-fearing men would dirty their hands helping a saloon girl. But dirty their hands they would when they came looking for companionship. The Lord she worshipped would not have sat there; He would have helped a young girl like Lucy. Turning her back to the men, she held the door for the bartender as he carried Lucy out to the carriage. Casting one last look back at the building, she shook her head. No, the spirit of the Lord rest in no one inside that den of inequity. He didn't even rest in her anymore.
At the boarding house, she did her best to help Lucy out of the carriage. The driver refused to get down and help. So much for counting on him, she thought as she stumbled back under Lucy's weight. Catching her balance, she led the girl up the walkway and through the front door.
"Doris!" She balanced a still sobbing Lucy as she shut the door. "Doris!"
Doris came running into the foyer, her eyes wide and her face pale of color. "What is it? What happened?"
"A man at the saloon . . .. He hurt her bad. Help me get her to bed."
Together they got Lucy up the stairs with minimal fuss. Occasionally, she would scream out. The sound of her screams cut through Sarah. No one deserved to be hurt like this, no one, least of all someone as sweet and gentle as Lucy. The poor girl had answered the same ad for a mail-order bride for a wealthy man. Falling for the same lie that had lured so many of them here.
"I will get the doctor." Sarah turned to leave the room when Doris grabbed her arm. "She needs a doctor."
"I know she does. It is not Saturday though. No doctor except on Saturday."
"Maybe he will be different than the other doctors. Maybe he might actual care." She wanted to believe he would be different. She remembered how kind his eyes were when he first arrived. He talked to them like he cared. In fact the way he followed her into the main room at church after Jacob’s outburst and sat with her told her he was different.
"Sarah, help me wrap her arm and we will give her some laudanum for the pain." Doris let go of her arm and looked back at Lucy, who was lying on the bed. "It is all we can do, dear, until Saturday."
“No I will go get the doctor. He is different.”
“No doctors except on Saturday. Even if he was different, Mr. Washington would bring hell down on us.”
She knew Doris was right as she went to find the bandages. They were on their own and it was up to them to take care of each other. Carrying the bandages back, she watched Doris hold the bottle of laudanum up to Lucy's lips. When the medicine appeared to have worked, she set about helping Doris wrap the woman's broken wrist and arm. If they could make it where she couldn't move it that should at least help with the pain until Saturday. They were accustomed to tending to their own injuries and illnesses. The doctors of this town didn’t venture to the boarding house, it didn’t matter if it was urgent or not. All that mattered was the day of the week, and many a girl had suffered because they had the misfortune to fall to injury or illness much too early in the week. There were murmurs of girls not making it to see the doctors, but Mr. Washington never spoke about those instances.
"You should head back to the saloon," Doris said after they had finished with the bandages.
"I am not leaving her. Unless I can go get the doctor."
"Mr. Washington will be very angry about that. You know that, Sarah. Remember . . . remember what happened last time. His driver will report you."
"That man wouldn't even get down from his seat and help me get her into the house. I don't care one whit what he does or says." She stormed across the room and yanked back the curtain. Sure enough, the arrogant man sat up there high on the carriage seat. He was watching the house. Let him watch. She wasn't coming back out. One day she would find a way to escape this place and this miserable town.
Chapter 6
Matthew spent the week dealing with minor issues from patients, and luckily, nothing as life-threatening as the young boy with the infected wound. A couple patients paid in actual coins while others paid in bartering. A couple home-cooked meals and laundry service saw him taken care of. This was why he became a doctor. To help those who desperately needed it but couldn't afford the luxury. Smiling, he put a few necessities into his black bag and headed out to the boarding house.
He knew his services wouldn't be welcome today any more than they were the first day. However, he was required as part of his duties to see to the women there. One day maybe he would be lucky enough to win over their trust. He just had to be patient and continue to show up. Let them see that he truly cared and wouldn't go away.
Raising his hand to knock, the door swung open. His fist raised in the air, he quickly dropped it. Sarah stood in the open doorway, her features pinched and dark circles ringed her eyes. She looked about ready to fall out right there on the spot. His heart dropped as a thousand scenarios that would cause her to lose sleep played in rapid fire in his mind.
"We have an issue. Come quick," she said with a hushed voice before she turned from the door.
She rushed to the stairs and left him to follow behind her. Pushing the door shut, he followed her up the stairs. Inside a bedroom, he saw a young woman lying on the bed. Her arm bandaged up. He tried to recall her name but couldn't remember.
"Her wrist is broken. We bandaged the best we could and kept her on laudanum for the pain."
He moved over to inspect the young woman. Sitting in the chair beside the bed, he gently removed the bandage. Once he had the arm completely unwrapped, he noted that her shoulder had been dislocated. His gaze trailed down her arm. Horror filled him when he saw her wrist bone protruding through the skin. The wound was oozing, the skin was a mottled mixture of black, purple, blue, and gray.
"How long ago did this happen?"
"Monday night. She fell down the stairs."
His heart sank as he thought about the agony this woman suffered through for five days. "Monday night?" He glared at her. "Why didn't someone ring for me?"
"It was not Saturday." She met his hard gaze without flinching, her tone even.
"What does that have to do with anything?" His voice raised and he saw Sarah flinch and step back from him. "The wound is infected. You should have gotten me as soon as it happened," he said forcing his tone to remain gentle. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her.
"Like I said, it was not Saturday. The doctor only comes on Saturday."
"Well, from now on, the doctor comes any time there is an emergency." He rose and stepped toward her. Placing his hands gently on her shoulders, he stared into her eyes. "No more waiting. When one of you needs assistance, come get me."
Sarah looked away and blinked. He couldn’t tell if she believed his promise that he would come if there was an emergency. How many others had failed these girls? She turned to him and softly asked, "Will she be alright?"
"I need to clean the wound and set the bone. Then I need to put her shoulder back in place. It will be painful. Can you help m
e?"
She nodded and he instructed her to get him what he needed to help the young woman. While she was gone, he took the time to look at the injuries. He wasn't sure a fall down the stairs could do this kind of damage, yet stranger things have happened. He had seen women with injuries like this in Chicago and more often than not, they were the result of a husband who had been drinking too much. Yet this young woman didn't have a husband nor a father around. Could a potential suitor have done this? Or one of the women boarding here?
Sarah returned with the supplies he needed and sat them on the dresser. He got started with washing the wound. The young woman moaned but otherwise didn't stir from her drug-induced state. When he was satisfied it had been cleaned, he instructed Sarah to hold her as he reset the bone. The young woman screamed, Sarah pushed down harder to hold her still, and he shoved the bone back into place. With the woman still restrained by Sarah, he sewed the wound shut.
Without wasting time, he shoved her dislocated shoulder back into place. At the dresser he mixed the ingredients then applied the mustard poultice to the wound. Using the bandages Sarah brought, he rewrapped her arm. It would have been easier had he been able to tend the injuries when they had happened—five days after the fact made things much more difficult.
"The wound will need to be cleaned again in a couple of days. Apply the mustard poultice again and wrap with clean bandages."
"Will she be alright though?"
"Hard to say. She has an infection and if a fever sets in, then she risks losing the arm. I doubt she will ever be able to use the arm as good as before." He wished he could offer them both better news. At least the young woman was not awake to hear that she may have lost the full use of her arm.
"Thank you for helping her."
"No thanks needed. What I need to know is the truth. She didn't fall down the stairs." He watched a flood of emotions play across Sarah's face. For one brief moment he thought she was going to tell him the truth, but then her face went blank and she turned and left him alone with his patient. He was used to people not trusting doctors or medicine; however, the women here went beyond that. He remembered what Jacob had said that day in church. Was there any credit to the man's accusations?
Assured that none of the other women needed his assistance, he left the boarding house. He needed to find Jacob but didn't want any of the townspeople to know he was looking for the man. It presented a conundrum he wasn't sure how to get out of. Heading toward the stagecoach company, he decided to grab lunch and see if the man was there. Entering the building, he saw the sheriff and a couple of men sitting and enjoying their coffee. Taking a seat, he ordered a plate.
"You settling in good there, doc?" the sheriff asked.
"I am. This is a nice little community here." He nodded as the waitress sat a cup of steaming black coffee in front of him.
"Well, glad to have you here, doc. I am sure the townsfolk are grateful to have a doctor who takes care of them, even when they can't pay."
"I ain’t had one patient yet that ain’t paid me. I find those good home-cooked meals or even a bit of clean laundry to be plenty payment enough."
"See that right there is what this town needs. A man who don't see coins and paper but other ways of being paid," an older gentleman sitting with the sheriff commented.
Pride swelled in him for a moment. He liked being needed. It seemed he found his place in the world here in this small town. The waitress smiled at him as she sat the plate of beans and cornbread down. It didn't hurt that there were pretty women living here. Not that he was in need of a wife, but a man could appreciate looking at pretty women. Eating his food, he commented on how good the cook was. Rising, he left enough on the table to cover the meal and a little extra for the waitress.
As he headed toward home, he scanned the streets looking for Jacob. The man was nowhere to be seen. He would just have to bide his time and eventually, the man would surface again. Approaching the front of his home, he saw Mr. Washington's driver standing on the wooden sidewalk leaning against the outside wall.
"Mr. Washington wanted me to inform you that you have an invite to dinner tonight." Pushing off the wall, the man turned and entered the saloon.
It irked him that the man had not waited for a response. He just assumed that because he told Matthew that Mr. Washington wanted him at dinner, then Matthew would just comply. Well, Matthew didn't like being ordered about at someone else's whim. Storming through the door, he headed upstairs to his private living quarters. His head was reeling from all the questions forming. Sitting on the sofa, he propped his feet up on the table and closed his eyes. He needed a nap, then he would map out a way to locate Jacob.
That evening he dressed and headed out to have dinner with Mr. Washington. During the walk there, he tried to keep his temper under control. The man had given him the chance to have his own practice, and he couldn't afford to offend the man. That was the mental reminder he gave himself as he stood in the drawing room, waiting for his host to join him. As before, the man came in and fixed them both a drink. They engaged in idle chit-chat before heading to the dining room.
Just like the first time he dined here, Amelia wasn't present. Instead, she came rushing in a few moments after they were seated. Dressed in the fashion of a Southern belle, she was a vision of beauty. Her blonde hair was curled and pinned so the curls cascaded down her back. Those very curls bobbed about as she took her seat. He took his seat without taking his eyes off her.
The maid came out and served fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans with bacon. Looking down at his plate, ordered or not, he was glad to be here. Food like this could lift a man's spirits. Maybe he could find a way to not offend his host and benefactor, yet ensure that he was truly invited and not ordered to dinner.
"Easter is coming up soon. Will you be attending the sunrise service?" Amelia asked.
"I am not sure. I guess it depends on how the services are conducted."
"On how they are conducted? Surely that shouldn't matter," Amelia protested.
"As a Catholic, trust me when I say, it does matter to me." He sat his fork down and looked across the table at her. "I am not saying how you celebrate is wrong. I am just saying that I may or may not participate."
She smiled and nodded as if she understood what he was saying. Truth be told, he just didn't want to encourage her to find a way to spend time with him outside these forced occasions by her father's dinner invites. She was lovely; he couldn't fault her that. She even came across as a sweet soul. He just didn't have an interest in a wife, and she gave all the signs of very much wanting a husband.
Sunday morning, found him standing at the wash basin before dawn. He had debated attending ever since Amelia had brought the subject up. In the end he figured it wouldn’t do for him to offend the good townsfolk by not being in attendance. He finished up shaving his face, then combed his hair in the small mirror. Sunrise services would begin in about half an hour. He gave himself one last look then headed out to make the walk to the church in time.
When he arrived he saw the congregation all crowded around outside. Several chairs were placed up towards the front near where the reverend stood, so though who couldn’t stand for long had a place to rest. He made his way to the crowd. Sheriff Jameson saw him and motioned him over.
“I wasn’t sure you would come today,” the sheriff said.
“I wasn’t sure I would come either. But it is Easter and one should worship the Lord on such a holy day.”
They talked for a bit more on issues within the town, then the reverend took his spot in front of the crowd and all talk died down. While the Easter service was delivered differently than what he had grown up with within the Catholic church, he still found it lifted his spirits. He loved hearing the story of Easter. The hope it gave to the world and all those who were lost within it.
“While I have your attention everyone I must put forth some town business before we go about our Easter celebrations.” Reverend Mitchell look
ed around to make sure everyone was still listening. “The town is growing and so many new people are starting ranches on the outskirts of town. It has been discussed that a new bigger pavilion would come in handy for social events. The thing is we need to raise money for it to happen.”
“Why do we need to raise money? I got the lumber I could donate,” a gentleman called out.
“All the men could come together and help build it. No need to hire some outside place to do it,” another gentleman hollered. “I doubt with the war and everything we could get outside help even if we could afford it.”
“Thank you gentlemen. That would surely lower the costs. But there will still be other stuff that need to be purchased. We can pass a hat around and everyone give what they can afford. That way we all have a part in our little town’s growth,” Reverend Mitchell said.
“I don’t think that would be fair,” Jenny Bennett called out. “After all some can afford to give more than others. Some can’t afford anything at all.”
“Do you have a better idea Mrs. Bennett?” Reverend Mitchell asked.
“Well one thing we did back East was what was called a box lunch. The ladies would all prepare a meal, place it in a decorative basket and then the men would purchase the lunch.” She moved just outside the front of the crowd and turned to face them all. “The idea is that no one knows what basket belongs to what lady. They just purchase it and get to have lunch with the lady the basket belongs too.”
“That sounds scandalous. Leave it to the Yankees back East to do things,” an elderly woman called out.
“Oh no nothing scandalous. The lunch takes place in view of everyone. No different than our potlucks.” Jenny Bennett said.
“I like the idea. It sounds very unique and fun,” Reverend Mitchell said. “Since it was your idea Mrs. Bennett you can organize it and we can have the box lunch next Sunday in place of our pot luck.”
When everyone had finished discusses the new development of the pavilion, Matthew headed back to his office. He went about inventorying all his equipment and medicines. As he did he kept a list of things that would need to be picked up so he could give to Mr. Washington’s man when he went to get supplies next week. He had assured Mr. Washington many times that he didn’t mind making the trip himself to get supplies. The other man had refused and insisted that Matthew remain in town at all times. He didn’t question it as he figured that the other man worried what would happen if someone needed a doctor during that time.
The Devil's Bride Page 3