Radclyffe - Promising Hearts

  "I'd say that's very smart." At 4 p.m., Mae was not yet dressed for the evening in her silk finery, but wore a smart, simple dark blue linen dress and matching shoes. The neckline, although scooped, was modest compared to her working attire. She sipped her tea, her expression contemplative. "You know, some would see a woman walking about alone as an invitation for trouble."

  "I know that, but I can hardly let such ridiculous notions make me a prisoner. Jessie is often out on the range all day, and unless I want to remain at home alone, I'll have to be free to move about independently."

  "Have you talked to Jessie about this?" Mae asked, one eyebrow quirked in anticipation of Kate's response. She smiled faintly when she was not disappointed.

  Kate sat up straighter, a frown forming between her brilliant dark eyes. "I certainly hope you're not going to start sounding like my mother."

  "Heavens, save me from that!"

  "I'm not in the habit of asking Jessie's permission to come and go, nor would she--"

  "Lord, I know that by now." Laughing, Mae set her tea aside. "But I expect she'll have something to say about you gallivanting around the countryside on your own." Her expression grew serious. "And truth be told, Kate, it is dangerous. Not just out on the range, but here in town, too."

  "I know that, and I don't intend to do anything foolish. But if Vance and Jessie can--"

  "Things are different for them--"

  "Why?" Agitated, Kate paced to the window that overlooked the street, watching the people, mostly men, come and go. She spun back.

  "Because they wear pants and carry guns?"

  "Well, yes. Mostly."

  "Well, as much as I like the way they both look in them, I'm not planning on wearing pants just so I won't be bothered when I walk down the street." She grinned. "The gun, however, is another matter."

  "Well, I won't say I've never seen a woman in a dress carrying a sidearm," Mae said, walking to her bureau. She opened the top drawer and withdrew a pearl-handled Derringer, the twin to the one she carried.

  She held it out to Kate. "But this is much less likely to draw attention, and that's what you want."

  Kate took it and examined it enthusiastically. It felt wonderful in her hand, smooth and substantial. It made her feel stronger, and even more importantly, it made her feel free. "Will you show me how to use it? I've only ever shot the Winchester."

  "Come here," Mae said, returning to the settee. "First, let me show you how to load it."

  Kate was an apt student and within a few moments had grasped the mechanics of how to load and fire the weapon. "Oh, I want to go outside right now and find something to shoot at."

  "Well, we could most likely go downstairs to the saloon and find you a target or two."

  Kate's reply was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  "Hold on, let me see who wants something now," Mae said, rising with a sigh. Her expression of annoyance changed to one of pleasure when she opened the door and saw Vance. "Hello. You're early." She indicated her dress. "And I'm unprepared."

  "You look lovely, as always," Vance said. She looked past Mae and smiled at Kate. "Good afternoon."

  Hastily, Kate began gathering her things. "I should be leaving."

  "No, I'm interrupting," Vance said, taking a step back. "I merely stopped to say that I was going to look in on Lettie."

  "We've been keeping her in bed, just like you said," Mae informed her.

  "Good. Well, I'll just see to her, then."

  "Do you need any help?" Mae asked quietly.

  "I can manage, thank you," Vance replied gently. "But Lettie might like it if you were there."

  "Of course. I'll be right--"

  Annie came out of a room across the hall and hurried to Mae's door. "Mae, Sophie says her best black shoes are missing, and I think someone's been going through our things."

  "All right," Mae said, "I'll be there in a few minutes."

  Kate touched Mae's shoulder. "I can go with Vance, Mae, if you want to see what that's all about."

  "I'd better, before they start accusing one another of stealing each other's things. Probably some visitor decided to make a present of those shoes to his wife and stuffed them in his saddle bag."

  Mae disappeared into Sophie's room as Vance and Kate went down the hall.

  "I've been meaning to ask Caleb who the midwife is in town,"

  Vance said. "Would you happen to know?"

  Kate frowned. "As far as I know, there isn't one."

  "Really?" Vance stopped outside Lettie's door. "With a population this size, I would imagine there are quite a few births. That must mean a great number of women are delivering without any trained assistants, since I'm sure Caleb can't see to all of them."

  "I never thought of that," Kate murmured. "Back in Boston, such things really weren't discussed very much. They just seemed to...

  happen."

  Vance laughed softly. "Yes, conception and the practical aspects of delivery do tend to remain a mystery in polite society. But I can assure you, very few women would attempt delivery without a midwife present."

  "What is it, exactly, that the midwife does?"

  Leaning a shoulder against the wall, Vance said, "Well, in the early stages, the midwife monitors the progression of the pregnancy, checking on the general health of the mother and things of that nature.

  Closer to delivery, she performs the routine examinations to judge the position of the child and determines whether everything is on schedule.

  Then of course, during the delivery, she aids the mother up to and through the time of birth."

  "It sounds very important."

  "Oh, it is. Most physicians never arrive for the delivery until almost the last minute. The midwives perform an invaluable service."

  Vance straightened. "Let's go see Lettie."

  Once in the room, Kate watched closely as Vance questioned the young girl as to her health and carefully examined her abdomen.

  Occasionally, Kate would ask a question which Vance answered thoroughly and unhurriedly.

  "Here," Vance said, reaching for Kate's hand. She drew it to Lettie's belly and covered Kate's fingers with hers. Pressing lightly on Kate's fingers she said, "Feel here. That's the head."

  Kate held her breath, trying to see through her fingertips as Vance slowly moved her hand over Lettie's pregnant abdomen.

  "And here, that's probably the baby's rump."

  "Oh," Kate gasped, amazed. She jumped when she felt a thump under her fingers. Eyes wide, she stared at Vance. "She moved."

  Vance grinned. "She, or he, did indeed. At this stage, which I judge to be a little over seven months, the baby's very active." Vance looked up at Lettie. "Isn't that true?"

  Lettie nodded vigorously, unused to having anyone pay her quite so much attention. "Sometimes it keeps me awake at night."

  "How can you tell how far along she is?" Kate didn't think she'd ever felt anything quite as miraculous and, at that moment, didn't think she'd ever met anyone, other than Jessie, quite as thrilling as Vance Phelps.

  "There are number of things," Vance said, standing. "If you'd like, I'll go over them with you once we're finished here."

  "Yes," Kate said instantly. "Yes. I'd like that very much."

  Delicately, Vance covered Lettie with the sheet. "You're doing fine. Another day or two, and if there's no more bleeding, you can start moving around again. But no lifting. All right?"

  "Yes. You'll come back again?" Lettie asked.

  "I will, in two days' time." She turned, surprised to find Kate holding out her coat. She slid her arm into the sleeve and waited, a bit self-consciously, as Kate drew it up her shoulders and settled it into place. "Thank you."

  "It is I who should thank you," Kate said as they walked to the door. "That was the most exciting, wonderful, amazing--" She broke off, laughing. "You must think me ridiculous."

  "Not at all." Vance smiled herself. "I remember just how excited I was the first time I felt something like that. I--"
She stopped abruptly at the sound of hurried footsteps ascending the stairs at the far end of the hall. Mae suddenly appeared, her skirts held up in both hands as she rushed toward them. Urgently, Vance said, "What is it?"

  "The doc..." Mae pressed a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath. It wasn't the running, but the panic, that had stolen the air from her lungs. "The Doc sent a message for you to come quick. Says he needs you straightaway."

  "All right." Vance hesitated only a second. "You're fine?"

  "Yes, yes. I'm coming with you. I've helped him with this kind of thing before."

  "What kind of thing?" Kate said, hurrying along beside them, a terrible fear rising in her throat. When Mae didn't answer immediately, Kate grasped her arm to slow her headlong rush. "Mae, what kind of thing?"

  "Someone's been shot." Mae took Kate's hand. "Someone from the Rising Star. That's all I know, honey."

  No. No no no. Not again. This can't be happening again. With fierce determination, Kate ran.

  * * *

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Kate cursed the dark, the uneven rut-strewn street, her shoes with the short square heels as she hurried toward Doc Melbourne's office. A light flickered in the window from the oil lamp, and a shadow passed back and forth within, splintering the shaft of light that escaped. Despite her horribly slow pace, she was well ahead of Mae and Vance when she reached the wooden porch in front of the building. Even as she pushed through the door she was calling Jessie's name.

  Jessie turned at the sound of the door slamming open. Blood streaked the right side of her face. Her shirt was soaked with sweat, caked with dirt, and a large stain over her left side looked frighteningly like blood.

  Kate flung herself into Jessie's arms. "Oh my darling...are you hurt?" Frantically, she patted Jessie's shoulders, her chest, her face.

  "You are. You're hurt. Oh...sit down. Where's the doctor? He must look at you."

  "Kate," Jessie said gently, catching her hands, stilling her motion.

  "I'm all right. It's nothing. Just some scratches." Then she wrapped her arms around Kate and buried her face against Kate's neck. Her voice was muffled as she choked out, "It's Jed, Kate. Lord. He's been shot."

  Vance strode through the door followed immediately by Mae. In her rush toward the closed inner door that led to the treatment room, she spared Kate and Jessie a brief glance. It took a second for her to register that the cowboy holding Kate, or being held by her, was a woman. She put her surprise away and looked at Mae. "Can you help?"

  "Yes, of course. I've done it before."

  "And so can I, if you need me," Kate said firmly.

  "It wouldn't hurt." Vance disappeared through the inner door with Mae.

  Tenderly, Kate disengaged from Jessie's embrace and stroked her cheek. "He'll be all right, darling. Sit now. I'll be out very soon."

  Not knowing what else to do, Jessie slumped into a chair, her hands dangling uselessly between her legs. "Please, Kate." Her eyes were deep pools of misery. "Please don't let him die."

  "Vance and Dr. Melbourne will take care of him." Heart aching, hating to leave her but wanting desperately to do something, Kate kissed Jessie swiftly, then hurried away. Not even thinking about what awaited her, she rushed into the next room, only to halt abruptly just inside the door. Shocked, she stared at the sight of Jed lying facedown on the table. He was shirtless and his back was awash with blood. Doc Melbourne leaned over him, pressing a square of white cloth between his shoulder blades.

  "Why, Kate, what are you doing here?" Caleb Melbourne glanced quickly from Kate to Vance.

  "I thought we could use the help," Vance said.

  "Might be right," he said. "Kate, we won't have time for the smelling salts."

  She took two steady steps forward. "I won't faint. Just tell me what to do."

  "Get some more of these bandages from the case over there," he said with a tip of his head. Over his shoulder, he said to Vance, "He's got a bullet in his back and he's lost a lot of blood. We need to get it out, and we need to get it out fast. I'd say you'd be the best one to do that."

  Vance didn't bother examining Jed but took Caleb at his word.

  She shrugged out of her coat and pulled her surgical kit from the closet where she had stored it upon her arrival in New Hope. She hefted it onto a nearby table and jerked open the flaps. It was not the same kit she had used that last morning at Appomattox, but a spare she had brought from home after hers was lost. For one brief second, the shining instruments looked completely foreign. She gripped a gleaming silver probe, and at the first touch of the cold steel against her fingers, everything came back to her. She felt the ground shake with the thunder of the cannons, smelled the cordite and blood in the air, shuddered beneath the weight of the dying.

  Mae covered Vance's hand with hers. "Why don't you tell me which ones of these you need, and I'll lay them out while you see to Jed."

  Vance stared at Mae's hand, stunned as the warmth cut through the chill that entombed her. Mae's voice was so soft, and yet it penetrated the barrage of sounds that bombarded her. Her voice barely a whisper, she said, "Thank you."

  "Nothing to thank me for," Mae said briskly, relieved to see a bit of color return to Vance's face. When she'd reached into the leather satchel, she'd turned chalk white and her eyes had gone flat, as if her body was still there but her soul had disappeared. It was about the most terrifying thing Mae had ever seen. The only thing she could think to do was touch her and try to pull her back from whatever hell she'd slid into. "Which ones, Doc?"

  "All of...the probes. And the forceps...those are the clamps...

  there." Vance cleared her throat, her voice stronger. "If you could open that canister...Yes, that one...and pour some of the carbolic over my hand. And my sleeve...could you roll it up, please."

  Swiftly, Mae took care of Vance's shirt and then unscrewed the metal top from the pint-sized canister. At the first whiff, she drew back in disgust. "Lord. You want that on your skin?"

  "It won't hurt me," Vance said, holding her hand over a nearby basin. "Go ahead and pour it."

  "Whiskey will do just as good," Caleb remarked.

  Vance nodded. "You might be right." She shook her hand free of the liquid and walked up to the table. "Let me see."

  Gingerly, Caleb moved the poultice aside, and blood immediately welled up from the hole adjacent to Jed's shoulder blade. He slapped the compress back down, his expression grave. "The bleeding might stop if I hold this on here long enough, but the bullet will still be in there."

  Vance and Caleb both knew that leaving the bullet in place would lead to infection and certain death. Unfortunately, at the rate the wound was bleeding, Jed was likely to bleed to death before they could get the bullet out.

  "Have you given him anything?" Vance asked.

  "I didn't have to. He doesn't know anything that's happening."

  Caleb tossed the crimson-soaked bandage aside and held out a bloodied hand to Kate. "Could you hand me another, my dear. Just keep one ready at all times."

  "Here you are." Kate extended the cloth, careful not to look at Jed's face. She'd discovered very quickly that if she just concentrated on the injury and what needed to be done, she could keep her fear and horror at bay. If she thought that this helpless man on the table was Jed, the kindhearted and gentle man who had welcomed her to the Rising Star as if she had been family, she thought that she might break down in tears. She couldn't even contemplate the terrible loss it would be for Jessie if Jed died. She could not think of those things and be of any assistance. And she was determined that she would help save this man she cared for and who meant so much to her Jessie.

  "Caleb," Vance said, carefully pressing her fingers over the thick muscles along Jed's spine. "If you will steady the probe once I locate the bullet, I'll follow it down with the forceps and extract it."

  "You just get me in the right spot," Caleb grunted. "Kate, you be ready to swab the blood, because we're not going to be able to see a damn thing.
Mae, you'll be handing us the instruments."

  Both women murmured their assent. Mae watched as Vance selected a silver probe ten inches long and as thick around as her small finger. It narrowed into a blunt rounded tip at each end. Vance's hand was steady, her face calm but determined. Despite the terrible circumstances, Mae couldn't help but think how beautiful she was. Her eyes met Vance's and held. "Just tell me what you need."

  "This may be too thick. Have the next size down ready."

  "Yes." Mae searched it out as Vance leaned over Jed.

  "Ready?" Vance said to Caleb.

  "Let's get this done."

  The instant Caleb removed the bandage, blood gushed forth.

  Unperturbed, Vance inserted the end of the probe into the bullet wound, balancing it delicately across her fingers and angling it with slight pressure from her thumb until it naturally found the angle of the bullet track. Then she guided it forward with a gentle massaging motion, avoiding trauma to the surrounding tissues. She was unaware of time passing or of the swift intake of breath beside her. The air grew very still, the sounds of battle receded, and there was only the rush of blood through Jed's body, the pump of his heart, the ebb and flow of his life that rested now in her hands. When the steel probe touched the ball of lead lodged in the paraspinous muscles, she said without looking up, "Caleb, hold this just as it is. Don't push forward or change the angle."

  Without looking away from the wound, Vance waited until Caleb placed his fingers next to hers on the probe. She noted absently that his hand was shaking. She repositioned the instrument slightly. "Do you have it?"

  "Yes," Caleb said, the tension making his voice thin and tight.

  Vance let go of the probe and opened her hand. "Mae. The forceps.

  Kate, very gently swab the blood away from the bullet site, but don't move the probe."

  The smooth handle fit perfectly in her palm. Without needing to look at it, Vance slid her thumb and fourth finger through the grips. Had she had her left hand, she would be holding the probe and, together, one hand would have guided the other, a delicate danse à deux . She was partially blind because she could not feel the bullet or the probe as she pushed the forceps into the wound. Nevertheless, the track the probe had followed was imprinted on her mind, and she guided the forceps effortlessly. When she judged she was an inch away from the end of the probe, she said, "Now pull it back slowly. Slowly."