Once inside the large bedroom, Olivia noted the window was open to allow for fresh air. Matthew Corson, Sr. sat propped up in the bed, his lean face alert, but drawn.
Mrs. Corson cleared items from a side table for Olivia then stood near the window, her eyes locked on her husband.
The ill man looked to his wife and then Olivia. “I’d like to talk to Olivia alone, Denise.” He coughed into a rag. Then he took a deep breath and fell back onto the pillows. “Go get a cup of coffee, rest a bit.” The warmth in his eyes when he smiled at his wife melted Olivia’s heart. It would be very difficult for Matt’s mother if Mr. Corson died.
Denise Corson huffed at her husband. “Fine. But I’m going to needle her until she tells me what you two speak about.” With a resigned sigh, she went to the bed and leaned over her husband, kissing his forehead.
Once she left the room, the sick man released a breath and closed his eyes. Tight lines of pain etched across his face and Olivia wondered how much he hid from his wife. “Mr. Corson, putting up a brave front isn’t good for you.” She placed her bag on a side table and opened it. “If you’re in a lot of pain, ask for medication more often.”
“It’s my chest, so tired of the coughing.” The man lay back onto his pillows. His keen gaze met hers. “I won’t be medicated more than necessary. Don’t want to spend my last days in a haze. I want to be aware of the time, the conversations with my wife and son.” He moaned slightly and coughed again, and she wondered if he was glad for the respite of not having to hide his pain.
With brisk, practiced movements she set about checking his vitals. Puzzled, she rechecked everything again. Then prompted him to open his mouth and placed two drops of laudanum under his tongue. He frowned, but didn’t protest.
“Why did you ask Mrs. Corson to leave?”
He sighed and looked toward the window, his clear eyes taking in the sight with piercing concentration. “I wanted to ask how long I have. This sickness, it’s gone on too long. If I’m going to get worse, which I suspect I am, then I’d like to know when and what to expect.” He pinned her with a hard look. “And don’t sugarcoat it.”
Olivia pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat. “I’m puzzled to be honest. Your condition remains the same, if not better than when I last examined you.” She pondered whether to speak freely, but then recognized the man needed to hear the truth.
“Six months ago, when your illness worsened, my father and I thought you wouldn’t live through winter.” She paused and considered if she should tell any more or wait until she discussed everything with her father. “Consumption doesn’t always kill, and you may be one of the lucky ones. You’ve made it this long. Let’s just plan for you to live, Mr. Corson. How about that?” She smiled at him.
He kept his gaze on his hands and she saw that they trembled. “I may live?” When his eyes met hers they were shiny and a corner of his mouth lifted. “Well I’ll be darned.”
“I am going to speak to your wife and recommend she start feeding you rich stews with hearty meats and green vegetables. The weak broths we recommended before are keeping you frail.”
Mr. Corson stared at her for a few minutes. “Are you really sayin’ I’m not dyin’?”
“I don’t believe so. No.”
He coughed again, this time the rag against his mouth barely covering the loud rasps. Olivia reached for the rag and took it from him to inspect. “How long has it been since you stopped coughing up blood?”
A surprised look sharpened his face and she saw the resemblance of the handsome man to his son. “I don’t know.” His eyes went to the rag. “I suppose I just assumed it was there. Denise tosses them into the fireplace daily.”
She nodded. “Mrs. Corson has done an amazing job of containing the disease and ensuring you stayed in a clean, fresh environment.” She motioned to the open window. “The constant fresh air and continued cleaning of linens and such.”
He frowned down at his hands, seeming at a loss for words. “I’d already prepared for dying, Olivia. I am not sure what to think.”
“You are still quite ill, Mr. Corson. But from the clarity of your lungs and the lack of blood when you cough, I will say the pain is mostly due to coughing in your weakened state and lack of mobility.” She held out her hands. “Let’s attempt to stand you up. I want to see what you can do.”
Half an hour later, she left him sitting in a chair by the window. Mr. Corson asked to be left alone. He needed some time to process what she’d told him and Olivia understood.
Matt stood in the front room, his eyes flying to her when she walked in then over her shoulder to the hallway. “How’s Pa?”
“Where’s your mother?”
“In the kitchen. Fixing you some tea. And getting supper ready.”
“I prefer to talk to you both together then.” She walked in front of him to the large, bright kitchen and found Mrs. Corson setting the table. The woman’s wide, shiny eyes met hers and she turned away to wipe a tear that escaped.
“Please sit, Mrs. Corson. I want to talk to you and Matt.” Olivia motioned to a chair and they sat. It was unnerving to have the rapt attention of the two people. Their hopes and fears hanging on what she would say. Olivia wondered if it would get easier over time. Probably not.
She spoke without prelude. “I believe Mr. Corson is on his way to recovering fully.”
The air stilled, no one moved or said a word. Both Matt and his mother continued to stare at her, waiting for her to say something else. “His lungs are clear and he’s no longer coughing up blood. I found no signs of fever or infection.”
Mrs. Corson spoke first. “Do you mean to tell us that Matthew is going to live?”
“I believe so, yes.”
Matt got up and left the room. Olivia suspected he was overcome and did not want to display his emotions in front of her. His mother jumped from her chair and hugged Olivia. “Thank you, Jesus!” Her tears fell unabashed. “Can I see him?”
“I believe he needs a few minutes to become accustomed to the idea,” Olivia replied. “Let’s have some tea and talk. I need to give you instructions for his meals.”
Dinner was a comfortable time. She and Matt remained quiet listening to Mrs. Corson telling and retelling her feelings about the good news. Olivia remained in the kitchen with Matt when his mother went to spend time with her husband, carrying a tray laden with a rich stew and newly baked bread. Olivia noticed she’d stood straighter, her face bright with happiness.
Matt stood and refilled his coffee cup. Olivia attempted to make conversation, but found herself, once again, at a loss for words. It irritated her that she never felt at ease around Matt. He was a pleasant enough man, but she felt awkward and uncomfortable when alone with him. “Matt, why do you want to marry me?”
His shrug made her want to slap him. “I ’spose because I want to have a family. It’s time for me to settle down. And now, if Pa gets better, then it frees me up to build my own place. Start my life. So…” He sat and didn’t finish the thought. Instead, he studied the cup. “I know I’m not good at explaining myself.” He frowned.
“Our parents seem to think we are a good fit.” She watched to see his reaction.
He met her eyes and his cheeks reddened, just enough for her to know his thoughts. “Yeah, they do. I do as well. You don’t agree?”
“How do you feel about me continuing to practice medicine?”
From his risen eyebrows, she could tell he’d not given it any thought. “I don’t know how you could. When would you have the time? You won’t be able to do it. Not with keeping a house and all.”
It took several deep breaths to keep from yelling at him that he should consider her feelings on the subject. “I assumed you understood that I plan to take over my father’s practice one day. I help him daily now and with all the new people coming to town, he can’t possibly keep up without me.” She realized her voice lifted and lowered it before continuing to plead her case. “With the miners alone, we have three
or four coming through every week with injuries, ailments and such.”
“I am not sure I like the idea of my wife treating strange men.”
It took a lot of concentration not to grab Matt by the shoulders and shake him. “I am a physician. I heal people. It’s what I was born to do.”
He leaned back into the chair, the coffee before him growing cold. “I plan to build our house farther from here, Olivia. Our home will be too far from town for you to go back and forth every day. Your father should find a male physician to help him.” He left no room for argument and stood. “It’s starting to snow. Maybe Ol’ Man Grimes was right. I need to escort you home.”
Olivia spun to the window. Fat flakes fell in a steady succession. “I prefer to go alone. It’s only a short distance. I’ll be fine.” Truly, at the moment, she needed time to consider her options. The gall of the man to assume a final say in a matter so important to her without more than a passing thought. It was obvious Matt had no intention of allowing her to practice medicine.
In the end, Matt escorted her to town. At the outskirts of town, he finally turned his horse and went back home. Olivia couldn’t believe how hard the snow was now falling and how Matt left without so much as a tip of his hat. The man was as unaware of courting as they came.
The matter of her marrying Matt Corson was not settled. And now it was apparent they were not suited at all. Surely her father would see her way of thinking after explaining Matt’s reservations on her practicing medicine.
Or would he?
Chapter Five
“Whoa! Whoa!” Bronson screamed at the top of his lungs and swung his rope at the cows, forcing them to move. His horse trotted in circles urging the cattle towards the safety of the corrals. The snow fell heavier now and he squinted to see his brothers. Grayson and Ashley seemed to have the rest of the herd headed in the right direction.
“Get the two over to your right, Grayson,” he called to his long-haired twin. Gray raced towards the stragglers.
“This is some crazy weather,” Josiah McClintock, the ranch hand, came near, his light brown eyes scanning the area for any stragglers, and circled closer to Bronson. “Seems like nature’s confused.”
“Winter always wants to get one last lick in before leaving,” Bronson replied. “It’s just not always so sneaky about it.”
Josiah nodded and galloped off to get more cows in line.
Bronson did the same and an hour later, all the cows were corralled. The calves were separated from the herd and taken to the barn to wait out the worst of the snowstorm.
His brothers started for their homes and Bronson waved them off. “I’m gonna check to make sure none are left behind.”
“I’ll come with you,” Josiah said.
Bronson whistled to his brothers and made a sign to let them know he and Josiah were leaving. Both signaled back.
The cowboys pulled their hats lower to cover their faces and they raced away to where they’d started. Soon it would be too hard to see through the blizzard. The snow was already accumulating on the ground and they didn’t have much time. If any calves were missed and the weather continued on track, they’d die before morning. It was imperative they were found soon.
At reaching a hill, they slowed and scanned the area. “It’s rocky around here, be careful,” Josiah told him. “I don’t see any critters. Do you?”
“Nope.” Bronson squinted into the distance and pulled up his collar. “I thought I heard something though.”
They remained silent, listening for any mewls from a lost calf. It was eerily silent. Bronson turned his horse in a circle. “Maybe not. I reckon we should head back. I don’t think we’ll find anything.”
Josiah pointed through the trees to his left. “The old cabin your Pa let me live in when I first arrived is near here. If you want, we can stay there instead of riding back. The snow is getting heavier.”
Bronson shook his head. “Nah. I think we should head back. It’s not that far. You can stay if you want, but I have a feeling you’ll be trapped. I rather be home and within reach of Ma’s cookin’.”
Movement out of the corner of his eyes made him jerk around. His horse whinnied, obviously seeing whatever it was. The horse bucked, lifting his forelegs high off the ground and Bronson lost his grip on the reins and tumbled off backwards.
*****
Wolves appeared through the trees. The small pack snarled, their eyes pinned to him and the horse. Josiah tried to comprehend what had happened. He couldn’t see Bronson. His horse moved around nervously and he fought to keep the animal under control. Through the heavily falling snow, he saw Bronson’s horse race off without a rider. Not sure where Bronson was, he shot twice into the air and the wolves darted off, disappearing into the trees.
He scanned the ground until spotting an unconscious Bronson on the ground. Without haste, he dismounted and went to his friend’s aid.
Bronson was passed clean out. It looked like he’d hit his head on a rock. Blood seeped from his temple, the trickle running down the side of his face.
Josiah lifted Bronson’s head and felt around, but didn’t find any other injury. After tearing the bottom of his shirt, he wrapped it around the unconscious man’s head. Then he lifted Bronson and placed him over the back of his horse. He’d take him to the cabin and then find help.
Both the ranch and town were too far away to ride in the now pelting, freezing snowfall with an injured man. He didn’t want to chance another scare to the horse. Josiah knew from experience that with head injuries it was best not to move the person too much.
The choice was obvious. It was only a few minutes to his cabin, down a path in the woods.
The horse trudged forward as Josiah tried to keep Bronson as still as possible. He had pulled Bronson up to a halfway sitting position against him.
Once arriving, he managed to carry Bronson into the small cabin.
Thankfully, the linens on the bed were clean. He hurried to lay his burden down. “Bronson.” He shook the man’s shoulder. “Bronson, wake up.”
There was no response, but he was reassured noting Bronson breathed evenly and his heartbeat remained strong. Maybe he’d just knocked himself out and would come to any minute. Maybe it was best if he waited to see if Bronson woke and not leave.
After lighting a fire in the fireplace and a lantern, which he placed on the table beside the bed, Josiah studied the unconscious man. Once again, he shook Bronson’s shoulder. It was apparent he’d not come to.
It was best to fetch someone. He wrote a quick note and placed it on the ill man’s chest then left.
Just as his horse reached the edge of the woods, it occurred to Josiah that it would be closer to head towards town. A doctor would be better than a family member. After all, if Bronson didn’t come to, Doctor Dougherty would know what to do. He waited for a few moments weighing the decision then spurred his horse forward.
Chapter Six
Olivia had barely made it home from the clinic when Josiah McClintock arrived with news that Bronson was injured and unconscious.
It was early evening, but already her father slept soundly in front of the fireplace and she didn’t have the heart to wake him.
“Go ahead and go, dear,” her mother urged. “I will tell him when he awakens.” She walked with Olivia to the door. “The weather is horrible. If it doesn’t get any better, just stay where you’re at. It won’t be on the ground for long.” Her mother frowned past her at the falling snow. “I put a hairbrush and fresh chemise in your bag.”
As always, after being married to a physician for so many years, her mother knew just what to do. In one hand she held Olivia’s medical bag, in the other her heavy cloak.
Olivia kissed her mother’s cheek and allowed Josiah to assist her atop his horse, as it would be easier to travel on horseback than in a wagon through the snowstorm.
Although in close proximity to Josiah, she didn’t feel uncomfortable. Of course, the frigid weather made it difficult to think
of much else other than finding warmer shelter. Since arriving at Alder Gulch some five years earlier, Josiah had worked at the Coles’ as a ranch hand. The tall, broad-shouldered man stayed away from town for the most part. Solitary, he kept to himself. It was a rare occasion that he came into town and when he did, it was usually to run an errand for the Coles. With midnight hair and eyes the color of whiskey, he was striking. But at the same time, he was easy company.
It took less than an hour to arrive at their destination, although the now glacial temperatures made it seem longer. Josiah dismounted and helped a shivering Olivia from the horse and she took in the small, but well kept, cabin.
Surely it was warmer inside. She hurried toward the door. Josiah followed with her medical bag.
Olivia allowed him to hold the door open and she rushed past him into the warm, open space of the cabin. “Who lives here?”
“I do. Most of the time it sits empty.” Josiah looked to the bed where Bronson lay then went to the fireplace and added a log to the fire. “I come here about once a month to check on it for Mr. Cole. Stay for a couple days.”
It took all her willpower to force herself to remove her coat before rushing to the bed. Instead, she removed her covering and went to the fire to warm her half frozen hands.
Finally she neared and looked down at Bronson. He seemed to be asleep, his chest rising steadily. She shook his shoulder. “Bronson?”
He didn’t react. She placed her fingers on the side of his neck and noted the pulse was steady. “Josiah, what exactly happened to him?”
The man took his hat off and frowned. “Wolves came out of the trees and spooked his horse. It bucked and Bronson fell. He landed wrong. His head got knocked pretty good on some rocks.”
He neared the bed and looked down at Bronson. “I didn’t think it was bad, only a cut on his temple, but when he wouldn’t come to, I figured it was best to get help.”
Every Blue Moon Page 3