The hospital could manage without him for another hour or two. He urged his horse in the direction of Quinlan's cabin.
"Myles, you old son of a gun, am I glad to see you." Dennis mopped sweat from his forehead and grinned up at his friend, his white teeth gleaming through the layer of grime on his face and neck. "I was praying something'd come along to drag me away from this confounded job." Dennis was digging stumps out of a field, tying a rope to them, and then urging his horse to uproot them. "Farming's rotten, backbreaking work, Myles. You're a smart man to stay with broken arms and carbuncles."
Myles grinned. "Seems to agree with you, though. No trace left of that paunch you were developing before you quit the force."
Dennis laughed and unhooked the rope he'd attached to his horse's harness. In one graceful leap he mounted the animal and led the way toward a log cabin surrounded by willow trees a short distance from a stream. "Let's go see if Tahny's got any coffee brewin'. She'll be delighted to see you. I know she gets fed up with lookin' at my ugly mug all the time." He winked at Myles, his irrepressible grin flashing. "Not that yours is all that appetizing either, Dr. Baldwin. But at least it's a change for the poor girl."
Two years ago, Dennis, an officer in the NWMP, had fallen in love with and married a beautiful Indian woman, a highborn member of the Cree nation, and brought her with him to live at the fort. It soon became apparent that the other officers' wives would never accept Tahnancoa, and worse, were going out of their way to make things difficult for her.
Dennis was enraged. He resigned his position in the force and homesteaded this isolated piece of land, planning to buy stock and raise beef to supply to the fort and Battleford.
"Honey, look who's here." Dennis ushered Myles into the modest cabin.
"Myles Baldwin, welcome." Tahnancoa came hurrying to greet him, her oval face glowing with pleasure, her soft, dark eyes and her beautiful smile conveying how pleased she was to see him.
He was one of their few white visitors, and Tahnancoa greeted him like a brother, taking his hand in hers and leading him to the hand-hewn pine table in the middle of the cabin's large, multipurpose main room. She poured Myles and Dennis mugs of coffee, placing a jar of strawberry preserves and gigantic slabs of fresh cornbread in front of each of them.
Myles watched her as she moved from stove to table and back again. He was convinced that Tahnancoa's startling beauty was the primary reason many of the officers' wives were cruel to her.
Tall and slender, she moved like a proud forest animal. Her long, shining black hair hung in thick braids which reached past her waist. She often wore her traditional native buckskin, but now she had on a red cotton housedress that set off her smooth brown skin and huge, liquid, dark eyes.
She gave her husband and Myles a wide, bashful smile, and he saw the way Dennis's gaze followed her. They were very much in love.
For some reason, Myles found himself thinking again of Paige Randolph.
Paige, too, was a beautiful woman. Her dark hair was only a few shades lighter than Tahnancoa's ebony tresses, wildly curly instead of satin smooth, cropped short. Paige's creamy skin was lightly tanned, with a few freckles scattered across her nose. She, like Tahnancoa, was also tall and slender and graceful. He'd noticed her hands today particularly, long fingered, amazingly strong, adept at her tasks.
And, Myles concluded, that's where any similarity between Dennis's wife and Paige ended—with physical appearance.
Tahny was gentle, sweet natured, shy, soft-spoken.
Paige Randolph was loud, brassy, and ornery. She was stubborn as a mule, and he'd bet he'd already been in more fights with her in the few days he'd known her than Dennis and Tahnancoa had ever endured.
"So, my friend, what's new at the fort?" Dennis interrupted his musings, and Myles was relieved.
"Eighteen new cases of malarial fever, if you want the medical report. Apart from that, not much out of the usual. Jenson and Jerry Potts caught the bandits who robbed that mail shipment last month, a couple of escaped jailbirds from the east." He paused, and to his chagrin, Paige Randolph was again in his thoughts. "A peculiar thing occurred a week ago," he said slowly. He realized that he wanted to talk about Paige; he wanted his friends' reactions to the whole story.
"Rob Cameron was escorting some settlers in to the fort, and he came across a young woman unconscious on the prairie." He told Dennis and Tahny how Paige had reacted when she arrived at the fort, and her outrageous story about being a medical doctor from another time. "I have to admit the doctor part was true," Myles went on, describing what had happened that morning. "No one could have done what she did unless they'd had extensive medical knowledge."
Tahnancoa had sat down at the table with the men, and she was paying close attention as Myles talked. There was a silence when he finished.
"Where does she say her home is, this woman?" Tahnancoa inquired. "Besides another time, what place does she say she's from?"
"From the Pacific province of British Columbia," Myles said. "A town called Vancouver."
"I hear this new province is threatening to join the United States if Sir John doesn't make good his promise of a railroad that links them with Ontario and the Maritimes." Dennis loved discussing politics.
For the next half-hour, the men talked about the proposed railroad and the ensuing fight over land expropriation that had already caused hardship and bad feelings between the Métis, their relatives, the Indians, and the government of Canada.
Myles and the Quinlans were in total agreement about the matter; they knew that the native people had been unfairly treated by the government, their land stolen from them, and with it, their livelihood. In addition, the settlers that swarmed across the prairies had all but destroyed the buffalo, which the natives had relied on for food and clothing and shelter.
The trouble was, none of them knew what to do to rectify the injustice.
After several more cups of coffee and two huge slabs of Tahnancoa's corn bread spread with homemade strawberry preserves, Myles reluctantly said goodbye and rode back to the fort.
The demons of memory and pain that tormented him were quiet now and he could enjoy the still, hot ride across the rolling meadows. He thought of the Randolph woman only once, when a scarlet jay started and took flight in front of his horse. The bird's plumage was the same dramatic color as the scraps of clothing she'd been wearing when Cameron found her.
Myles was exasperated when he realized that he'd spent several miles imagining just how she'd look in those skimpy garments.
His arousal had nothing whatsoever to do with any particular woman, he told himself. It was biological, plain and simple. It had been too long a time since he'd lain with a woman.
"Please, ma'am, my husband said I was to give it to you, to pay for Billy's operation and all. The police doctor gets paid by the government, but if it hadn't been for you, our Billy mighta died. And my Jim don't want to be beholden to anybody, ye see." Mary Wiggens pressed the crumpled five-dollar bill into Paige's hand.
It was the day after the accident, and Paige was relieved and delighted to find that Billy's arm seemed to be healing nicely, without the redness and swelling she'd been afraid would indicate infection. Perhaps Baldwin's dreadful carbolic had done the job after all; certainly there was no faulting the neat and efficient job they'd both done on the reconstruction of the arm itself.
Paige didn't want to take the money from Mary Wiggens; it was obvious from their house and threadbare clothing that the family didn't have money to spare.
But there was also the matter of pride; she could see it was important for these people to feel they'd paid their debts. And Lord knew, Paige needed the money. Lulu Leiberman hadn't yet asked for the next week's rent, but she certainly would any moment now.
"Thank you, but my fee is three dollars, Mary, not five," she improvised, trading the five dollar bill for three equally crumpled singles.
Three dollars would pay for the next week's board and room at Leiberman's,
and Paige knew from the relief on Mary's face that the family would put the two dollars' change to good use.
Guess what, Sam Harris? she silently addressed her partner at the clinic who was a stickler for proper bookkeeping and billing procedures. I just billed three whole dollars for an emergency operation and who knows how many home visits, what'ya think of that?
The thought of Sam brought a heavy sadness that seemed to lodge in her chest like a rock, and she forced herself back to here and now. As the days slid by, her chances of going home seemed to become more and more flimsy.
Last night, however, she'd had an idea that just might allow her to earn a living wage for a few weeks—at least, she hoped it might. It would depend on the North West Mounted Police and their attitude toward hiring women.
"It's very irregular, Chief Surgeon Baldwin. The force doesn't hire females in any capacity, you know that, and a woman who claims to be a doctor? Absurd. Questionable moral character, if you ask me, a woman even wanting to be a doctor. I feel quite certain the commissioner wouldn't approve." Inspector Morris frowned at Myles and twirled the ends of his handlebar mustache.
Myles stood his ground. "I'm satisfied that Dr. Randolph's a good physician, sir, and the fact is I need trained help immediately and she's available. Considering the fact that I've sent two urgent requisitions to headquarters for an assistant surgeon at this post and had no reply, it seems I must take matters into my own hands." Myles had fully expected the inspector to object to his suggestion that the force hire Dr. Randolph to assist him during the fever outbreak that was now threatening to become an epidemic.
Myles would never have considered it himself if he weren't exhausted from tending day and night to the ever increasing numbers of victims from both the post and the town.
The truth was, he'd never thought of it at all if Dr. Randolph hadn't brazenly proposed it to him. And once she had, he couldn't see any reason it shouldn't work.
"Do you have any objection to me personally taking Dr. Randolph on for the duration of this outbreak, Inspector? I'll pay her salary out of my own wages, of course. If that's not acceptable, sir, then I must insist you spare me another four men immediately to act as ward attendants."
Inspector Morris's bushy eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Four more men—now, Surgeon Baldwin, be reasonable. As you well know, the epidemic has left me seriously shorthanded. I've had to cancel several patrols, and the work on the new barracks has been postponed until God knows when"—His voice rose to a bellow—"and every day there's more blasted men on sick parade."
He slammed his hand down on the desk, making papers flutter. "Assigning another four of my able bodied men to hospital duty is quite out of the question. Quite out of the question."
"Then I take it you suggest I should make a private arrangement with Dr. Randolph, is that right, sir? The fever is spreading rapidly to the civilian population, and I must have help."
Morris's face was purple. Myles thought the old boy might be going to have a stroke one day soon, considering his temper.
"Do what you feel you must do, Surgeon Baldwin, and don't bother me with the details," he finally sputtered.
Myles snapped off a salute and concealed a weary but triumphant smile. "Thank you, sir. Good day to you, sir."
There'd been three new cases of fever among the enlisted men yesterday, and this morning another four showed up at sick parade. He had another dozen patients sick in their homes in the town, whom he had to visit.
The young constables who'd been assigned hospital duty were next to useless around sick men.
"You can't possibly give adequate medical attention to all the patients by yourself," Miss Randolph had pronounced in that irritating tone of hers. "I suggest you give serious thought to hiring me, Dr. Baldwin. I'm an absolute bargain."
Her green eyes had sparkled with sarcastic amusement. "My fee is eight dollars per week, based on an eight hour day, which for a doctor with my experience is a joke. However, I need the job as much as you need my help. You can reach me at Mrs. Leiberman's."
The woman's insufferable attitude infuriated him, but after he'd spent most of last night tending to chronically sick patients, he had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that her suggestion made sense.
As soon as he left the inspector's office, Myles sent a boy with a curt note agreeing to her terms and telling her to come to the infirmary as soon as possible.
Within a single hour of her arrival, however, he was sorry he'd ever been desperate enough to hire her.
"First of all, open every window in this building," she instructed Armand LeClerc and two constables. "And after that, we'll begin scrubbing every single thing in the room with that nasty carbolic solution you people use as a disinfectant. I can't believe you're putting new cases in beds that haven't been disinfected. The men's blankets will have to be laundered and hung out in the sunshine to dry. And each one of you is to scrub your hands thoroughly every single time you touch one of these patients."
Myles swore under his breath and strode over to where she was already preparing a basin of carbolic solution.
"What I wouldn't give for some decent antiseptic and a few dozen vials of ampicillin," she was muttering. "Not to mention some trained nurses and a couple of decent orderlies and…."
She glanced over her shoulder at Myles, interpreted the look on his face, and whirled around to face him, arms folded across her chest, chin high, ready for battle.
"Madam," he began, clenching his teeth against the outrage he felt at her peremptory takeover of his hospital, "Madam, I don't believe you fully understand the nature of this particular fever."
He hadn't intended to sound quite so pompous, but the devil take the woman, she brought out the very worst in him. "We're very familiar with this malady, Dr. Randolph. We call it mountain fever, or malarial typhoid. We believe it to be non contagious. It's caused by bad air from the low level of water in the river, which accounts for our keeping the windows and doors firmly closed. We treat it with quinine, medical comforts, stimulants, beef tea and milk, and—"
"And it's spreading like wildfire." Her hands were on her hips now, and her green eyes flashed defiantly. "Spare me the outdated medical hogwash, Doctor. Typhoid, if I remember correctly, is caused by bacteria and usually transmitted by insects, water, food, or carriers. Without antibiotics to cure it, the best thing we can do is try to prevent its spread. We boil all the water before drinking it, scrub everything, most especially our hands, in this blasted, stinking, harsh carbolic, and we allow fresh air and sunshine into this dungeon. Quinine's okay, I guess, but I'd cut out the milk—milk makes diarrhea worse, and we certainly don't need that, do we?"
She gave him a saccharine smile.
Myles glared at her. "Madam, may I remind you that I'm the surgeon in charge here—"
"How many deaths have you had from this fever, Dr. Baldwin?"
He scowled at her, but she wouldn't back down. "Five in two months," he snapped. "Which is minimal considering—"
"Which is ridiculous, considering that hygiene and some fresh air and sunshine might just work wonders and prevent any more."
They stood, green eyes challenging gray, and neither would back down.
Finally, she heaved a sigh and said in a more conciliatory tone, "Look, your methods haven't worked all that well. Why not give mine a try? Washing everything down and letting some air in here isn't exactly insurrection, Doctor." She gazed around the room and rolled her eyes. "It's bloody hard work, is what it is, considering the lack of every modern convenience, such as washing machines and dishwashers and sterilizers." She gave him a challenging look. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a little hard work, Doctor?"
Hard work didn't begin to describe the controlled chaos that ensued during the following week. Soon there were row after row of clotheslines out back of the hospital strung with wet blankets, and the constables on laundry duty complained bitterly about their raw hands and the dozens more blankets waiting to be washed. From daybreak until
after dark, cauldrons of water stood steaming over open fires, and the pervasive smell of carbolic made everyone's eyes stream.
All the constables on hospital duty had come in for tongue-lashings from Paige for neglecting to wash their hands after touching patients, and all had complained at length to Myles, outraged at having to take orders from a female.
The only person besides the patients who accepted Paige without reservation was Armand LeClerc, which infuriated Myles, because Armand had always been his own staunchest supporter. Having the old Métis change allegiance was unsettling.
During the first week she worked at the fort, there was one new case of fever. The second week saw no new cases, and by the third, many of the sick had recovered. There were no more deaths.
Paige arrived at the fort at dawn and often it was past dark by the time she left again, usually escorted back to the boardinghouse by Rob Cameron; it seemed decent women didn't walk the streets of Battleford alone after dark. Aching with weariness, she crept up to her room, washed in icy water, slid the nightshirt Myles had given her over her head, and fell into bed.
During those first hectic days, the two doctors worked nonstop, taking little time even to eat. They clashed with monotonous regularity on the finer points of patient care, but soon they were both too tired to even argue with much energy, and they began to work together as a team.
By the end of the second week, however, things had slowed enough so that even an occasional regular mealtime was possible.
Armand rigged a makeshift table out on the small back porch and served them their meals there.
Myles Baldwin, Paige found during those breaks, was scrupulously formal and unfailingly polite, with the exquisite manners of a southern gentleman—as long as the two of them didn't get into some heated argument about medical techniques.
He was also remote and impersonal; his conversation mostly centered around the weather and the patients, until she rebelled one evening over a hasty dinner they were sharing.
Now and Forever: Time Travel Romance Superbundle Page 10