It still took a great deal of coaxing before Helen finally agreed to remove her pantaloons and climb up on the makeshift table so Paige could examine her. She was bleeding heavily, but as far as Paige could determine, there weren't any obvious tumors or abnormalities. The elementary procedures available to examine and treat Helen's problem made Paige grit her teeth in utter frustration.
No Pap smears, no ultrasound, no hormone replacement therapy, no blood or urine analysis. Certainly no hospital available where a hysterectomy could be performed if it was needed.
If the bleeding persisted, all she could do was attempt a D and C.
Was dilation and curettage a procedure even in use at this time, she wondered?
Well, if it wasn't, she was about to introduce it, Paige decided with grim determination. Helen was becoming seriously anemic from blood loss, and it was quite conceivable that she could die from it, because iron replacement by intravenous methods wasn't yet an option. What the hell was used to treat anemia in these times, anyhow?
Paige explained to Helen the dangers of hemorrhaging. "I want you to come back and see me in two days, Helen. I'm going to perform a very minor operation to stop the bleeding."
She explained to Helen as simply and clearly as she could what the procedure consisted of.
The thought of performing a D and C here in her tiny office was daunting, but it could be done. She'd need help, though.
Paige thought of Abigail Gordon. She'd ask her to assist.
Helen agreed to come back, but she looked frightened. Well, Paige mused, she had a right; Paige was scared half to death herself, but there wasn't any other option that she could see.
As Helen finished dressing, an idea came to Paige about the problem of anemia.
"I want you to take a tablespoon of blackstrap molasses in a cup of hot water every morning and evening," Paige instructed. Molasses was high in iron, and also readily available here. "And do you have iron cookware?"
Helen nodded. "It's so heavy, though, that I've been using enamel lately."
"Use the iron. It'll put significant amounts of usable iron in your system."
The moment the Gillespies left, Paige scribbled a hasty note to Abigail Gordon, asking for her assistance.
The second note took much longer, and she tore up three pieces of paper before she finally settled on what to say.
"Dear Myles," she finally wrote, "From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for this treasure trove you've given me. Also thanks to you, I've just seen my first patient, Helen Gillespie. I'm sorry we quarreled the other day. I miss you and value your friendship. Hope to see you soon—Paige."
She shoved more wood on her fires, grabbed a coat, and went off in search of a boy to deliver her mail, hoping that Myles would recognize and accept her attempt at making peace between them.
Two days later, Paige could feel the sweat collecting on her forehead as she bent over Helen Gillespie's unconscious form.
It would have helped so much to have stirrups, and a proper table. This one was much too low. Her back felt as if it were breaking.
She'd brought three lanterns in and hung them above the table, so at least the light wasn't bad. The trouble was, the heat from the lanterns made the tiny room into an oven, and the fumes from the ether even more powerful.
Both Abigail and Paige were sweltering. They were swathed in enveloping aprons that Paige had cut from linen sheets and then sterilized in the oven to approximate operating room gowns, and they both wore the masks Paige had improvised from gauze.
"Watch her breathing, Abigail. We need to keep her nicely under so she doesn't struggle," she said now. "And try to keep her legs steady for me if you can. They seem to weigh a ton when a patient's unconscious."
Abigail Gordon was a godsend. Steady and utterly reliable, she seemed to instinctively know what Paige required of her, monitoring the patient's pulse, handing Paige sponges when they were needed.
Paige's eyes were glued to the slight undulations of Helen's abdomen as she blindly guided the curette inside the uterus. In her mind's eye, she visualized the technique she'd performed so many times before, praying that it would be successful under these difficult conditions.
There was no point in agonizing over what she didn't have. She had to work with what was available here, Paige reminded herself for the thousandth time that morning.
She had to forget that there was no drip in Helen's arm to administer drugs if they were needed, no crew of nurses, no anesthetist, not even a tray of tapered dilators when she needed them.
She didn't dare think of hemorrhage, or heart failure, or the dozens of other life threatening things that could happen here this morning.
There was just her, and Helen, and Abigail—three women, dealing with women's problems as best they could in a stifling little room lit by gas lanterns.
"That's about got it." Paige sighed in relief. "Now, we can use that sterile cotton to swab with, and then we're done."
"How do you know when it's enough, Doctor? The scraping, I mean. When you can't see what you're doing." Abigail had paid rapt attention to the entire procedure.
"You continue scraping until there's a gritty feeling to the entire lining of the uterus. It's called the 'cry of the uterus.' It's something you learn by experience."
Abigail nodded. "I see. There's lots of things has to be learned by experience, aren't there, Doctor? That's how I learned about midwifery, too."
Together, they removed the sterile cloths Paige had draped around her patient's hips and thighs.
"Bleeding's stopped already," Abigail confirmed. "You figure her monthlies will stop altogether now, and the poor woman will start feeling better?" Abigail was helping Paige with their patient, making her tidy and comfortable.
"It often happens that way after a D and C." Paige didn't add that no one was really sure why; it was one of medicine's unexplained mysteries. The important thing was that it worked in a great percentage of cases.
Helen was still deeply asleep, breathing in heavy sighs, and Paige put her stethoscope to her patient's chest, reassured by the steady, strong beat of Helen's heart.
Ether used as anesthetic scared her spitless. She'd spent half the previous night checking and rechecking all the information she had on how to use it to anesthetize a patient. When she'd memorized every bit of information she could find, she found herself wishing desperately, at two in the morning, that she could consult with Myles.
The two women washed again in carbolic solution and then stripped off their voluminous aprons, watching the patient closely. "There we are, she's starting to come around now," Abigail announced several moments later as Helen moaned and muttered something unintelligible.
Thank God. Oh, thank you, God. Paige felt overwhelming relief as Helen's eyelashes fluttered.
"If you don't need me here, Doctor, I'll go and make us all a cup of strong tea," Abigail said, bustling out the door.
"We could all use one. I expect that poor Mr. Gillespie's let the kitchen range out by now; he was beside himself when he brought Mrs. Gillespie in this morning, he sure won't remember to put wood on the fire. I'll just go tell him his wife's right as rain and get him to chop some kindling, should I, Doctor?"
Paige grinned at Abigail. "Get him to chop a lot while he's in a good mood. Tell him Helen's right as rain, for sure," she confirmed, feeling jubilant.
Helen stirred just then and Paige took her hand, smiling at her as she struggled to regain full consciousness.
"Everything went well, Helen. I think you're going to be just fine from now on. We'll move you in a few minutes to a more comfortable bed in the spare room, and by tomorrow morning you should feel well enough to go home."
Helen rewarded her with a weak smile. "Thank you, Doctor," she whispered, and Paige felt the familiar rush she always experienced after a successful treatment.
Lord, she'd missed this so much, this job she'd chosen as her life's work. She suddenly wished that telephones were in use. She'd love t
o pick one up and call Myles this instant, and tell him her first operation was a smashing success.
She imagined herself describing the procedure in detail, the questions she'd ask him about medications.
Damn it, she missed him.
Two days later Paige was coming out of the Hudson's Bay Company store, her arms loaded with supplies. An icy wind was blowing, and Walker had just warned her that they were in for a bad snowstorm. The Indians had told him, he said, and they were never wrong.
"Paige, good afternoon."
The deep, slow drawl rippled through her every nerve ending, and she felt considerably warmer than she had a moment before.
"Hello, Myles." He'd hitched his horse to the railing in front of the store, and now he came over to stand beside her, a smile tilting his long mouth upward.
She hoped he noted that she was wearing a skirt today.
"Can I be of help with those packages?"
"Thanks. I'm going to try to fit them all in Minnie's saddlebags."
He took the heaviest of them, a bag of flour, and followed her over to where she'd tied the horse. Together, they stowed the groceries away.
She felt tongue-tied all of a sudden. What the hell was wrong with her? She'd spent hours having imaginary conversations with this man, and now that she was with him, she couldn't think of anything to say.
"It's going to snow," she blurted out.
Brilliant, Randolph.
He nodded. "Usually happens about this time of year."
She felt a hysterical urge to giggle. Either they fought like cats and dogs, or they were as polite as bankers to one another. Unless, of course, he was kissing her.
She stole a glance at him. Did he even remember that day out on the prairie?
"Mrs. Gillespie came to consult me. I performed a minor operation, and I think she's going to be fine. I appreciate the referral, Myles."
He nodded his head. "I'm pleased it turned out well. You charged a fair sum, I hope?"
She grinned. "Actually, Mr. Gillespie paid me on the spot, without me having to bill. Twenty dollars, which is how I come to be at the store, buying them out of supplies. I feel rich."
"That sounds about right."
"I hope it is. I'm afraid I really don't have much idea what to charge."
She was hoping he'd offer to come home with her so they could talk about it, but he didn't.
She stood a moment longer, racking her brain for something else to say, her heart sinking as the moments dragged on in silence. "Well, I really should be getting back home or my fires will all be out...."
"Would you care to come for a ride with me some afternoon when the weather's a bit warmer, Paige?"
The brusque invitation took her by surprise.
"Sure," she stammered. "Yes, anytime. Yes, absolutely, I'd like that."
He untied Minnie's reins from the hitching post and stroked the horse's nose. Minnie whinnied and snuffled at his pocket. It was obvious she knew him well.
"No apples today, old girl, sorry." His smile was directed at Paige as well as the horse. "I have friends who live a few miles out of town. I'd like you to meet them. They don't get much company, especially this time of year."
He steadied the animal as Paige stepped into the stirrup and up, curling her leg around the saddle horn and arranging the clumsy bulk of material in her skirt in what she hoped was a suitably modest manner.
As soon as she was away from the town, of course, she'd ride astride, but she wanted him to see that she'd taken his warning to heart. There was no point in alienating people for no good reason, even though this awkward riding position put her in danger of breaking her damned neck.
"As soon as this coming storm dies down, I'll come by," he promised, giving her that little salute of his.
Paige rode demurely through the town, nodding at several people she passed. When there was no one to see her, she slipped her leg over Minnie's back and into the stirrup, giving a whoop of joy that startled the poor horse.
"Minnie, you won't believe this, but I've actually got what amounts to a date with our elusive Dr. Baldwin," she crowed.
The mare's ears flicked, and she danced and picked up her hooves as if Paige's excitement were contagious.
The storm lasted three days, cold winds and icy snow blowing against the windows and howling down the chimney. Paige was grateful for the generous woodpile Walker had provided. She kept her fires stoked. She'd learned the hard way to get up in the night and put more wood on the stoves so the house would stay warm.
The fourth morning, Paige awoke to brilliant white light streaming through the small window in her bedroom. The storm was over, and blinding sunshine had turned the snowy world outside into silver brilliance. She hurried into her jeans and warm coat and went out to give Minnie hay and a cupful of oats, pausing to look out over the town below.
Smoke rose from chimneys, curling up like commas against the intense blue of the winter sky. Everything looked virginal, blanketed with snow. Paige loaded wood into a basket and carried it into the house, going back outside to pump a pail of water from the well.
Her outside chores done, she stoked her fires and had her morning bath in front of the stove, a procedure involving two basins: one for washing, one for rinsing. She dressed in long underwear and then a skirt and plain shirtwaist blouse, with a shawl over her shoulders, and made porridge for breakfast, remembering with a pang of nostalgia electric toasters and boxes of cold cereal.
She was washing the sticky pot in a basin of hot water when Myles appeared at the back door, stamping snow from his high boots, knocking his wide brimmed hat against his leg when she opened the door.
His thick golden hair was flat where the brim of his hat had been. He wore a buffalo coat over his uniform, and it made him look immense. The fine wrinkles around his gray eyes deepened when he smiled at her.
"Morning, Paige. It's a fine day, cold but clear. Care to come visiting with me?"
"I'd love to." She couldn't seem to stop smiling.
"Good. I'll go out and saddle Minnie for you while you get ready."
The ride out along the riverbank and then along a trail that cut across the frozen prairie was breathtaking. Everything shimmered, jewel-like, in the sunshine, and the clear, cold bite of the winter air in Paige's lungs was exhilarating. It was slow going; the horses often had to struggle to break a trail through the snow. Myles was quiet for the first part of the ride, but as they grew nearer to their destination he told Paige a little about Dennis Quinlan and his Indian wife, Tahnancoa, the young couple they were going to visit.
"Dennis was the youngest son of a well-to-do banker in Toronto, and he told me his entire family was horrified when he joined the North West Mounted rather than making banking his career," Myles began. "Dennis was an exceptional policeman and he soon was made a sergeant in the force. Two years ago, he was investigating a murder that involved one of the young Indians from Poundmaker's reserve, and that's how he met Tahnancoa. She's Poundmaker's niece. Dennis fell in love with her, and they married."
"I'll bet that caused a near riot." Paige knew enough about the strict and narrow moral code of the times to guess at the reaction to intermarriage.
"Actually, the North West Mounted didn't object," Myles said. "Dennis was an officer, free to marry whomever he chose, and the force is well aware of the scarcity of young white women in the West. It was Tahnancoa's people who put up the most resistance. You see, the native people are losing respect for the whites. There's growing discontent with the promises made to the Indians by politicians in Ottawa. Those promises are never kept, and the Indians feel betrayed."
How little things had really changed between her own decade and this one, Paige mused. In her own time, it wasn't only the native people who felt betrayed by politics. The entire populace of was disillusioned with politicians and their broken promises.
"Dennis and Tahnancoa lived at the fort at first," Myles was saying, "in married officers' quarters. But the other officers'
wives and some of the good women of Battleford made Tahnancoa's life miserable."
Paige felt a rush of sympathy for the young woman. She knew from personal experience how it felt to be lonely.
"Dennis resigned from the force and bought a section of land out here. He bought cattle, and he's trying to establish a business supplying beef to the North West Mounted and to the town."
"Is he making a living at it?"
"I believe so. Dennis is a hard worker, and Tahnancoa works right along beside him. She's a fine woman. Good looking, too."
"They sound like great people. I can't wait to meet them."
Tahnancoa had just finished rolling biscuits to go with the soup she'd made for lunch when the dog began barking.
Dennis was still out in the barn, shoveling hay from the loft down to the cattle. Curious, Tahnancoa went to the window, astounded to see Myles helping a woman wearing a blue coat and a woolen hat down from her horse. The woman was smiling at Myles, and his hands were around her waist.
Tahnancoa could feel nervous apprehension turn her stomach sour.
A white woman. How could Myles Baldwin bring a white woman here, to Tahnancoa's home? A woman from the town, with a smile on her lips and contempt in her eyes for Dennis Quinlan's Indian wife.
They were walking across the yard now, toward the house.
Tahnancoa stepped back from the window, her heart thumping. If there'd been a back door, she would have slipped out, leapt on the back of her pony, and ridden far away.
But there was no back door. She peeped out the window again, relieved to see Dennis loping across the yard now from the barn.
He called something to Myles, and Tahnancoa watched through the narrow window as Myles and the woman paused, waiting until Dennis was near. There were smiles and nods and handshakes, and then all three of them turned once more toward the house.
There was no escape. Tahnancoa raised trembling hands and smoothed the single black braid that hung down her back. She took off her apron, brushing flour from her checkered blouse, her plain dark skirt, and took a deep breath, straightening her spine and standing tall and still, chin tilted high, as the door opened.
Now and Forever: Time Travel Romance Superbundle Page 16