"Then the war came." Myles's voice changed, becoming flat and toneless. "Chance died at Manassas. Beau got typhoid in a federal prison camp and died there three months before the war ended. Pa was killed at Gettysburg. Mama wasn't really a strong woman, she'd always been pampered, had her servants and her men folk to protect and care for her. She retreated into a kind of dream world after the war, couldn't face up to the way things really were." He shifted to his back, settling her head more squarely on his shoulder. "I tried to get the plantation back to some kind of working order when I came home, but it was pretty well hopeless. Part of the house was still standing, but the fields were ruined, and I didn't have the time, the money, or the inclination to set it right. I was busy, there was a shortage of doctors after the war. Ma never got over losing Pa and the boys and the plantation. She died of heart failure the year after Beth and I were married." His voice sounded weary. "We'd about given up on the idea of a family by the time Beth got pregnant, and she was happier than I'd ever seen her when she found out she was carrying our baby. To me, that baby seemed like a fresh start, a new generation of Baldwins, something good in the aftermath of all that horror."
He was silent so long Paige thought perhaps he'd drifted off to sleep, but after a long while he began to speak again. "I haven't ever really talked about this to anyone but you. It's hard to put into words. After Beth was gone, it seemed that everything in me died too. Nothing seemed important anymore. I didn't bother going to the hospital each day the way I'd always done. I started drinking to stop the pain, and liquor became my reason for getting up in the morning. For months, I kept a bottle of bourbon always within reach. Then one afternoon I was called on to treat a neighbor, an old man I'd known all my life. He'd cut his foot nearly off with a scythe. I tried, but I was simply too drunk, couldn't even apply a tourniquet to control the bleeding. He came near to death before they could transport him to the hospital."
Paige winced, aware of the self-loathing in his voice.
"And that's when you stopped drinking?"
"Yes, ma'am. I looked in a mirror and saw myself and what I'd become, and I didn't like it much. I sold the land and left Charleston, traveling west, nowhere in particular. I wanted to get as far away from the South as I could."
"How did you start to practice medicine again?"
He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them. "As you know so well, darling, work usually finds a doctor. I treated frontiersmen and settlers in one small settlement after another. Eventually I heard of the formation of the North West Mounted in Canada, and I volunteered my services as a surgeon. The Canadian frontier and the nomadic life of a mounted policeman suit me fine."
"It must seem like another world, all this snow and ice, and the Indians." She was thinking of what it had been like for her, the total culture shock she'd experienced.
But Myles disagreed. "It's not as different as you might think," he insisted. "People get sick, accidents happen, and I find people everywhere are basically alike, good and bad, weak and strong."
He seemed to make a conscious effort to shrug off the somber mood that had sprung up between them, rolling over all of a sudden and covering her with his body, his voice teasing.
"And the women are warm and willing...."
She punched him in the ribs, and they ended up in a wrestling match, which ended, inevitably, with loving. She never did get around to telling him about Rob's proposal of marriage.
The Christmas season in Battleford was a lighthearted time, a time for parties, sleigh rides, dances, and concerts, many of which were organized by the men at the Mounted Police post and held at the fort. Attendance wasn't by invitation; it was simply expected that every single resident who could possibly manage it would turn up at these festivities— and almost everyone always did.
Feeling affluent with the income from her patients, Paige splurged and bought herself two new dresses from the emporium, one in a green shade that matched her eyes, and the other a deep, dramatic crimson. For the first time, she found herself actually thinking that the voluminous, fussy styles of the day were romantic and very feminine—as long as she could trade them for her jeans when the party ended. She was almost embarrassingly popular at these events. Myles escorted her to many, but Paige insisted on going by herself to others, to avoid the very wagging tongues he'd warned against.
The first time Myles became visibly jealous when she danced once too often with some handsome policeman, Paige was astonished, and although it embarrassed her to admit it, she was also flattered.
No one had ever been jealous of her before; but then, she'd never been the belle of the ball before, either. She reminded herself sternly that her popularity had everything to do with the shortage of available women in Battleford, and the numbers of single young policemen and settlers.
The one person who didn't ask her to dance at any of the functions was Rob Cameron. He greeted her with stiff politeness when they happened to meet, but he kept his distance.
Paige tried several times to talk to him, to recapture the easy camaraderie they'd shared, but it was clear that Rob wasn't comfortable in her presence. She finally gave up trying, sorry to lose his friendship.
For Christmas, Myles presented her with an elaborately scrolled hand carved sign for her front door that read, Paige Randolph, M.D., Specialty Women's Medicine. Another, smaller notice, said Walk In on one side and a firm Closed, Come Again on the other. He also gave her a bottle of exquisite rose-scented perfume with a French label.
She presented him with Levi's that matched her own.
At six one morning, near the end of January, Paige was shoveling out Minnie's stall before she put fresh hay down. Myles had spent the evening and a good part of the night. Whenever his duties allowed, they were together, and this morning her body ached pleasantly from their loving the night before.
Puffing with exertion, she went to the stable door to clear her nose of the acrid smell of horse dung and urine. It had been cold and overcast for several days, but this morning the sky was clear, a few stars still showing on the eastern horizon. She drew in deep gulps of cold air, relishing the way her lungs burned a little.
Down in the town there were lanterns lit and smoke pouring from chimneys as housewives got fires stirred up and breakfasts going. From the direction of the fort came the sound of a bugle playing reveille, the clear, haunting notes floating, pure and sweet, in the frosty air.
An unfamiliar feeling crept over Paige, a tightness in her chest that brought tears to her eyes. There was a sense of lightness in her body and in her mind, a sense of being one with her surroundings. It took several moments to figure out just what the strange sensation was, and when she identified it, it amazed her.
The feeling was happiness, a deep and total happiness and contentment with herself and her life that she couldn't ever remember feeling before.
She examined it, putting together the pieces as if they were a puzzle.
She was doing work she enjoyed, she had a house of her own, she was financially secure, she was madly in love with a man who loved her equally as much, and for the first time in her life she had women friends—Clara, Abigail— and she'd promised herself she was also going to get to know Tahnancoa Quinlan.
She'd thought of Tahnancoa often since the day she and Myles had visited, but she hadn't yet gone out by herself to visit, the way she'd planned to. Myles was leaving the following day, Friday, to inspect two outposts where there'd been consistent reports of illness. He'd be gone the better part of a week. She'd miss him, but she decided that she'd also take advantage of his absence to ride out alone on Sunday to visit Tahnancoa.
Now and Then: Chapter Thirteen
Paige left home early Sunday morning, and the solitary ride across the half-frozen prairie was exhilarating.
When she rode into the Quinlans' yard, Tahnancoa came running out of the cabin to greet her.
Paige slid down from Minnie's back, put her arms around the other woman, and gave her an impetu
ous hug.
"Hi, Tahnancoa. Hope you don't mind me dropping in this way. There wasn't any way to let you know I was coming."
"You are welcome, Paige Randolph." Tahnancoa's black eyes sparkled, her smile just as wide as Paige's own. "Come inside. Dennis is off hunting a wolf that's made off with one of our calves. He won't be back until late tonight, and I'm making soap. It's a perfect time for us to talk."
Paige had never seen anyone make soap, although she knew most of the settler women made their own supply.
The process provided for easy conversation with Tahnancoa. Paige asked endless questions, and Tahnancoa described the process for her. "The ashes from poplar fires are best. I collect them all summer. Then I boil them, stirring all the time. I did that yesterday. This morning I strained the liquid, which is very powerful, it burns if it gets on your skin. I mixed it with fat—I raised some geese, we ate them at Christmas, and I saved their grease—that kind of fat is best for the soap we use on our skin, and now I'm boiling it all down again."
Paige helped by stirring the smelly concoction with a wooden paddle. When Tahnancoa considered it done, the women carried the soap kettle into the lean-to attached to the back of the cabin, and carefully poured it into shallow wooden molds Dennis had made for this purpose.
"When it's cool, I'll cut it into bars, and we'll have enough soap for the rest of the winter," Tahnancoa said with satisfaction. "Thank you for helping."
Paige admired a row of small woven baskets lined up on a long shelf, and Tahnancoa opened several to show Paige a collection of dried herbs.
"My grandmother, Lame Owl, is a mighty shaman among our people," she explained. "Before Dennis and I married, I was her apprentice." A shadow passed over Tahnancoa's face. "She's angry with me for leaving my tribe, for marrying Dennis. She's refused to continue with the training, but I keep hoping she'll change her mind. From the time I was a small child, she taught me to gather and use the medicines from the earth."
Paige was entranced. Myles had given her some of his favorite native remedies, but most of them were useful only for such things as gunshot wounds or infection; he'd admitted he didn't know of many for women's ailments.
"What's this one for?" Paige touched a finger to a dark, shredded mass inside a straw basket.
"Headache, or aching limbs. It's the bark from the willow tree. I steep it and then make a tea."
"And this?" Paige touched another. "Wild black cherry. For the pain of childbirth, or in a smaller dose, to ease women's monthly cramps."
Paige questioned Tahnancoa at length, determining that the herbal remedies had been in use for centuries among the Indians, and their effectiveness, proven many times over, was now taken for granted. She grew more and more excited as she examined one basket after another.
"This, Tahnancoa?"
"I don't know the English word for that. When it's mixed into a paste and put on burns, the burn heals quickly without blistering. Also, we use it on the rash babies get." Tahnancoa put a few dried red berries on Paige's palm. "These are wild rose hips. Made into tea, they soothe colds or winter flu."
Of course, the original source of vitamin C.
Paige was fascinated. As she examined each basket, Tahnancoa listed the uses of the herbal concoction within.
Wild wintergreen, for colds. Catnip leaves, for colic. White pine bark, for coughs.
Paige was totally intrigued; the medicines that Myles had supplied her with were woefully inadequate for many of the common problems her female patients and their children complained of. Paige felt these remedies would be every bit as trustworthy and effective as some of the medications currently in use by the medical profession.
"I don't suppose you could sell me some of these herbal remedies to treat my patients?" Paige asked tentatively. "Many of them dose themselves with patent medicines, like Lydia Pinkham's, and this stuff called Perry Davis Vegetable Pain Killer—God, it's almost pure alcohol, with staggering amounts of opium added. What d'you think, could you sell me a stock of your medications and instruct me in how to use them?"
Tahnancoa was surprised, and flattered as well. She readily agreed to supply Paige with some of the herbal preparations. "A few I don't have a good supply of," she explained. "And others will need careful instruction in how to prepare them, but I can teach you. In the spring and summer, I will gather and prepare a good supply, if you find them effective."
Deftly, she packaged a number of the remedies she had, and Paige carefully labeled them along with the dosages and instructions Tahnancoa gave her. Pricing was difficult; they worked out a system that took into account the availability of the herb and the ease of gathering it.
Tahnancoa was excited at the prospect of earning some money of her own. "There is a special knife Dennis has wanted, a skinning knife. I will save this money and surprise him," she confided.
Paige smiled at her new friend, aware of how deep the bond was between this extraordinary couple, grateful that she'd found a similar bond with Myles.
As they worked with the herbs, Tahnancoa was eager to know about Paige's work as a doctor, both now and what she called simply "before."
She asked intelligent questions about how Paige treated certain ailments, explaining how her grandmother might deal with a similar problem.
As they talked, Paige expressed some of the concerns she had for the patients she treated, needing to vent some of her frustrations to another woman. "This horrible practice of putting on a corset and lacing it up so tight breathing is nearly impossible and all the inner organs are compressed is one of the reasons women are having the problems they do with childbirth and menstruation. It's a barbaric custom."
Tahnancoa nodded. "When I lived at the fort with Dennis, one of the other wives told me I must wear a corset and lace it tight, that it was considered indecent not to. I tried, but it made me sick. I burned it."
"Smart move." Paige told Tahnancoa of her first visit to the ladies' emporium, and the pandemonium she'd created by refusing to wear one. They giggled together, and the bond between them grew stronger. At last Paige felt comfortable enough to ask Tahnancoa about the ceremony she'd mentioned, when her people walked between the worlds.
"Only special female shamans are allowed to do this thing," Tahnancoa explained. "They are caretakers for the earth spirits, special guardians appointed to make certain no lasting harm comes to Mother Earth because of man."
Paige thought of the environmental devastation in her own time. She asked Tahnancoa what these travelers might make of it.
"They travel into the Beyond and look, and when they come back again they make powerful magic to counteract any damage they have seen."
Paige had a million questions. "Can they pick a certain time, a certain year in the future, for instance, and go there?"
"I don't know. There are many things I don't know about this ceremony. It's very secret, even among the shamans. I was never allowed to be present. There are few shamans now who even know the ritual, the old ways are dying out. Lame Owl is one of the last who have the special knowledge. That is why she was so disappointed in me, she wanted me to learn all that she knows so I too could help the guardians on their way and bring them back again."
"Does your grandmother conduct these ceremonies often?"
Tahnancoa shook her head. "I don't think so. I haven't seen her for many months now, but when the weather is better, I will visit."
"When you do, could you ask her if there's any chance of me traveling in this way, back to my own time?"
"I will ask, but I doubt that she will answer. She is a very obstinate old woman."
It sounded as though the chances were slim, Paige mused, surprised that it bothered her as little as it did. She really ought to be feeling more discouraged about it. Falling in love with Myles had changed her, no doubt about it.
Tahnancoa served dinner early in the afternoon, a stew made from prairie chicken and freshly made bannock. The conversation skipped along, from medicine to clothing to food.
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Paige amused Tahnancoa with tales of modern day fast food, burgers and pizzas and milkshakes, and how people had adopted food of different cultures: Chinese, Greek, Italian.
"There was even a very famous restaurant in Vancouver that served traditional West Coast Indian food: bannock—not half as good as yours—smoked salmon, saskatoon pie," she recalled. She listed the prices that were charged for the dishes, and Tahnancoa's jaw dropped in astonishment. She pressed both hands to her lips and giggled. "I will remember this each time I cook, how much my food is worth. It will make it easier at times when I don't feel like cooking at all."
Curious, Paige questioned Tahnancoa about the traditional food her Indian people had eaten before the coming of the white man.
Tahnancoa listed an impressive array of natural dishes: wild rice, bush cranberries, wild strawberries, a tuberous root she called prairie turnip, and of course, most important, the buffalo.
"My people are deeply troubled now because the buffalo are disappearing," she told Paige, her lovely face sobering.
"Why is this happening?" Myles had mentioned the same problem, but Paige hadn't paid much attention at the time.
"My people hunted for many years with bow and arrow," Tahnancoa explained, "killing only what they needed to eat. With the coming of the white man and rapid-fire guns, buffalo began to be slaughtered by the thousands, for sport instead of for food. Now there aren't enough left for us to hunt, and the problem is serious, because to us, the buffalo isn't only food. We use the hides for clothing, for sleeping robes, and for our tipis, we sew hides into sacks to carry pemmican, the bones we crush and cook to extract marrow fat, which is stored in the buffalo's bladder after we clean it and blow it up to dry. The sinews are used for sewing, the horns are hollowed out to carry powder."
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