Erin

by Rachel Wesson

  “You aren't totally happy with him, are you?” Mrs. Grey asked her quietly.

  “How did you know?”

  “I take it you don't make a habit of frowning at your patients.”

  Erin rubbed her face. “I am not sure what it is. He seems to be recovering but...”

  “You trust your instinct. It's what differentiates good doctors. I will stay here with you so you can rest more.”

  Mrs. Grey insisted Erin went for a nap in the other examination room. She promised to call her if anything changed. It didn’t but, still, Erin couldn’t rest easy.

  The next afternoon, Mr. Hofmeister was well enough to see his wife and son. They had been waiting in the clinic since they'd heard of the accident. Erin was worried about Mrs. Hofmeister as she was heavily pregnant but the lady insisted she wanted to be near her husband. Mrs. Grey arranged for them to sleep upstairs at the clinic.

  Mr. Hofmeister was very thankful to Erin and Mrs. Grey for saving his life. He didn't seem to realize his arm was gone. He kept talking about how good it would be to get out of the hospital and back to work. He had a lot of big orders on his books and he couldn’t afford to lose the customers. There was another mill in the next town so his customers had an alternative.

  Erin couldn’t understand a word of German but she saw how Mrs. Hofmeister reassured her husband. She bravely pushed aside her own concerns, smiling brightly at her husband, telling him all would be well. It was only when her gaze met Erin’s, that Erin saw the unmasked fear for a couple of seconds. It was quickly replaced by a look of steely determination. Erin sighed. These two people obviously loved each other deeply.

  Chapter 10

  Erin made her way back to the boarding house to get changed. One of the boys from the orphanage showed her the way. He was tickled pink when she gave him a coin for his trouble. She went inside hoping to have a hot bath. Mrs. Sullivan came out of the drawing room just as she closed the front door.

  “Miss Brennan, I have been hearing so much about you. Congratulations on saving Mr. Hofmeister. He hasn’t lived here long. He is a lovely man and his wife is such a dear. She is due soon too.”

  Erin didn’t say anything but let Mrs. Sullivan chatter on. She was so tired she couldn’t think of a response. Plus, she couldn’t tell the lady it was too early to feel such confidence.

  “Mrs. Sullivan, I wondered if I could have a bath.”

  “Yes, of course, dear. Mick Quinn dropped off your bags earlier and Mrs. Grey sent one of the boys ahead to tell us you were coming back for a break. You will find everything you need in your room.”

  “Mrs. Grey is so nice to me.”

  She wondered at the look Mrs. Sullivan gave her, but she didn’t waste time worrying about it. She wanted a bath and then bed.

  Finally feeling clean, she put on a fresh nightdress and got into bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow her mind woke up. She couldn’t sleep for thoughts of what she could have done, should have done, might have done. After a couple of hours tossing and turning, she gave up, got dressed, and made her way downstairs. She followed some delicious smells finding herself in the kitchen where Mrs. Sullivan was stirring something on the stove.

  “Up already? I thought you might sleep for a few hours. Mrs. Grey will be cross.”

  “Mrs. Sullivan, why was there a rock in my bed?”

  “To warm it up for you, love. Haven’t you heard of that before?”

  Erin shook her head. She didn’t want to tell the lovely woman she'd been used to the luxury of indoor plumbing and heating back in New York.

  “We call it the spinsters friend. No offense meant, only it warms up your legs.”

  The rock did a good job. She smiled at the name. If only they knew.

  “So why didn’t you sleep?” Mrs. Sullivan asked her.

  “I couldn’t relax.”

  “Is there something wrong with the bed? Do you not feel comfortable?”

  “No, it’s not that at all,” Erin said hastily. “It was more my thoughts. I was thinking about what happened and...” Her voice drained away.

  “Doc Brennan, if you weren’t here, Hans would have died. By acting as you did, you gave him a chance. Will he live? That's in God's hands now. You have done your best.”

  “But you weren’t even there. Were you?” Erin asked.

  “No, but Mrs. Grey doesn’t give out praise lightly. According to her, you did a fine job.”

  Erin sat down at the table forgetting to ask if she could. Mrs. Sullivan placed a hot cup of coffee and some oat and raisin cookies in front of her.

  “Your parents must be very proud of you. To have a daughter who is a doctor.”

  “Mam was. Da died years back, before I finished school.”

  “Sorry to hear that. So what brings you to Clover Springs?”

  “Husband hunting if the gossip is anything to go by.” Erin smiled in response to the look on Mrs. Sullivan's face. “I am teasing, Mrs. Sullivan. I think the men at the station mistook me for somebody else.”

  “Yes, I believe they did. We weren’t expecting a doctor.”

  “Especially a lady one, although I have to say, I haven’t seen any real resistance to the idea of a lady doctor.”

  “You will.”

  Erin laughed. “You don’t beat about the bush, Mrs. Sullivan.”

  “No point dear. In this life, some men are still trying to get around to the idea that women have a working brain. You just have to get on with it. But I didn't know we had advertised for a doctor. Is our town doc retiring and didn’t tell anyone?”

  “Not that I know of. My visit here is only temporary. I have to give something to someone and then I will be moving on. I have some job interviews lined up in Denver.”

  “Job interviews. So you haven’t secured employment as such.”

  “Not yet, no.” Erin wasn’t about to admit her chances of securing employment were rather low.

  “What's the attraction in Denver?” Mrs. Sullivan asked after a couple of minutes of silence had passed comfortably.

  “Attraction? Well, none really. I need a job and they have a lot of hospitals and medical facilities.”

  “What about your mam? Didn’t she want you to stay close to where she lives? I hate my Elizabeth living miles outside town. If I get to see her once a month, I am lucky.”

  “Mam went back to Ireland. She said it was Daddy's wish and she wanted to fulfill it. I don’t think she could bear living here without him.”

  “I never thought I would see the day when people were leaving America to go back home. Things seem to have improved back there a lot.”

  “Maybe. I think in Mam's case, it wouldn’t really matter. She has enough to live on and her brother, who owns a large farm, has offered her a home. I miss them but it’s nice to see them out of the slums of New York.”

  “I heard it's bad there.” Mrs. Sullivan said.

  “It's worse than you could ever imagine. All those people living on top of one another. There are so many people arriving every day seeking the pavements made out of gold. Often they find they are worse off than they were back in their own countries. At least there they could speak the language and knew the customs. A lot of fights break out over misunderstandings and cultural differences.”

  Chapter 11

  Mick rode back into town, his mind filling with images. They wouldn’t go away. Not until he had drunk enough whiskey. He thought of young Max. He'd been his age when he'd left home, forced to fight in a war he didn't agree with. His pa had died and his regiment needed new men. Times were different then. If Hans died, nobody would send his child off to war.

  Mick tied his horse to the hitching rail. Pushing open the doors of the saloon he was hit by the smell of sawdust. Dickinson must have put fresh down to cover up the old smells. Unfortunately, the stale tobacco and cheap perfume weren't enough to cover the other odors. Not looking left or right he strode up to the bar.

  The barkeep poured him a shot of whiskey.

 
“Leave the bottle,” Mick said. The barkeep gave him a look but didn’t say anything. He picked up a cloth and started polishing glasses. Mick hit the shot back in one, poured another and another, but it wasn’t working. It seemed with every glass the images in his mind became clearer. He sensed someone at his elbow.

  Surprised he found himself looking into the face of a young woman. Women weren’t allowed into the saloon at least they weren’t in Gary’s day.

  “My name’s Mollie. You look like you need some company stranger.” Mollie smiled but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Under all the gaudy clothes and makeup she was only a kid. How did she end up in a place like this?

  “Go away, Mollie.”

  The smile fell from her face. She sidled closer. “Aw, don’t be like that, Mick. You’re real good looking.”

  “You say that to all the boys.”

  “Sure I do, but I only mean it when I say it to you.”

  For a second Mick was tempted to take her upstairs but the thought disappeared as soon as it came.

  “Mick, are you coming or not?” Mollie was tugging on his arm, her eyes filled with terror. He looked in the mirror to see what was causing that. Dickie stood at the bottom of the stairs, he seemed to be smiling but, he had a cold calculating look in his eyes.

  “Please, Mick, I'll do anything you want. But don't say no.” Although she spoke very softly, he couldn’t miss the note of desperation in her voice.

  Grabbing the bottle with his other hand, Mick allowed Mollie to lead him upstairs. He ignored the whistles from Trigger and the other Sullivan ranch hands. They must have followed him into town. He did notice the exchange between Mollie and Dickie. Mollie looked like an abused dog he had adopted years ago. Terrified her owner would beat her yet begging for acknowledgement.

  They got to Mollie’s room or, at least, the room she pretended was hers. Mick very much doubted Dickie kept his girls in this much luxury. She sat on the bed, waiting, he guessed, for him to ask for something.

  “Mollie, why do you work here?”

  Mollie looked astonished to be asked. A flush spread over her neck and upward to her face.

  “Why? What's it got to do with you?”

  Mick walked over to the chair by the bed. He sat down, putting his feet up on the bed. He threw a few coins on the cover. Mollie picked them up greedily.

  “I was just curious. You seem so young.”

  “I ain’t never been young,” Mollie said before straightening her shoulders. “I am plenty old enough.”

  “Ain't you ever wanted to be something else?”

  The hard mask slipped once more, and he saw she was even younger than he had first thought.

  “I wanted to be a teacher once. You know like Miss Ellen from the orphanage. I was good at school. I know you’ll probably laugh.”

  “I ain’t laughing.”

  Mollie looked at him to check he wasn’t making a fool of her. Satisfied he was genuine, she continued with a little more enthusiasm. “I was good. I got an apple from the teacher more than once. But then Ma died and Pa, well he...he wasn’t the same after Ma went. He started drinking. One drink became a bottle and...”

  Mick knew the rest of the story without hearing it. It was a similar one to the one he had heard over and over searching for his sisters.

  “So are you, you know?” Mollie gestured toward the bed. She looked extremely uncomfortable, or was she nervous?

  “Why are you frightened?”

  “I'm not afraid of anything.” Mollie’s defensive tone would have made him smile as she sounded like a child caught doing something wrong. But for the fact they were sitting in a bedroom over a saloon.

  “Easy, Mollie, I paid for the time. Nobody but you and I are going to know what happens in here.”

  “You mean you just going to sit there.”

  “Yup.”

  “The whole time?”

  “Yup.”

  Mollie eyed him curiously. He watched as the curiosity was replaced by doubt. “Do you not like girls?” She edged toward the door.

  He laughed. “I like girls just fine. I'm tired and I suspect you are too. I thought we could just spend a while relaxing, maybe chat a bit.”

  “Chat? You mean you want to talk to me? Ain’t you got any friends?” Mollie moved back toward the bed, picking at the bedspread.

  Mick pondered the question. Had he any friends? Davy was a good boss but were they friends? Cookie, he was his friend. He was more than a friend, he was like family. But otherwise there was no one.

  “I guess not. Do you?”

  Mollie shrugged. “The girls here are nice. I guess.”

  “What about home? Anyone left there?”

  The shutters came down immediately. “Nope.”

  She was lying but Mick wasn’t about to ask why.

  “About Dickie. Does he beat you?”

  Mollie stared at some point above his head. “I don’t want to say nothing about Dickie.”

  “All right. You look tired, why don't you have a nap.”

  “Go to sleep. On this bed?” Mollie looked at the bed with longing in her eyes.

  “Yes, get into bed and go to sleep. I will wake you in time, don't worry.”

  “But Dickie.”

  “He would expect the bed to be used.”

  Mollie flushed before turning her back to him. He closed his eyes as she slid under the covers and lay facing him. She was asleep seconds after her head hit the pillow. He stared at her face, so much younger looking now. He wanted to pull the covers around her and take her away from here. But there was nowhere for them to go.

  You're going soft Mick Quinn. He pushed his hat down over his eyes and settled back for a nap.

  A while later, loud knocking woke him. He scrambled to the door, opening it a fraction.

  “Your time is up, fella.”

  “How much for the night.”

  “Three dollars.”

  Mick flinched, he knew the rate wasn’t that high but he paid it anyway. He could look out for Mollie for one night. He handed over three dollars fifty cents. “Give the barkeep the rest. I owe him for some whiskey. Don't disturb us again.”

  He caught the dirty grin on Dickie’s face but shut the door. He didn't want to antagonize anyone. Not now. He had to come up with a plan. Now that he had met Mollie he had to find a way to get her out of here.

  Dawn broke just as he woke Mollie. She sat up with a start clutching the bed clothes to her.

  “I stayed here all night?”

  “It's all right. I paid Dickie. He's happy. I have to go now but I will be back again. If you ever need anything, Mollie, you send someone for me.”

  He saw by her face she wouldn't. She didn’t trust anyone. He couldn’t blame her.

  “I mean it, Mollie.”

  “I don’t know anything about you. I just heard the barkeep call you Mick one night.”

  “Why did you pick me last night then?”

  “You looked decent.” Her soft voice made him pause. He glanced in the mirror at his old clothes, his bearded face and too long hair. Decent wasn’t a word that came to mind.

  “I work out on the Sullivan ranch. If you can't find me go to Wilma. She's at the orphanage.”

  Mollie’s face brightened. “I like Wilma. She's kind to me. She says hello when she's passin’.”

  “Well, go to Wilma. Promise?”

  A long silence lingered. Mick tried not to show his impatience but if he didn’t get moving fast, he would be late to the ranch. He didn’t mind the ribbing from the hands, but he didn’t want to be on Davy's bad side.

  “I will.”

  On impulse, Mick leaned forward. He stopped as she shrunk back from him.

  “Mollie, I ain’t ever hit no woman and I ain’t about to start now. You take care, you hear.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead before pushing down his hat. Closing the door behind him, he hoped he wouldn’t meet Dickie on the stairs. That was one man who he wouldn’t mind giving the full for
ce of his hand.

  Chapter 12

  Erin knew the minute she walked into the clinic, there was something wrong. The smell told her. She washed her hands hurriedly before joining Mrs. Grey at Hans’ bedside. The look the other woman gave her confirmed her suspicions.

  “Gangrene?”

  “Certainly smells like it and I thought he was getting so much better,” Mrs. Grey spoke in a whisper.

  “We will have to operate again.”

  “But how? You already cut close to the shoulder.” Mrs. Grey seemed to realize what she had said. “Sorry, Doctor, I shouldn’t have questioned you.”

  “No, you are quite right. It will be difficult and I am not sure he will survive the operation. Even if he does, his chances of survival are grim. I have never seen a patient recover after losing so much blood. The operation took too long.”

  “You did the best you could. You don’t go thinking anything else.”

  “Where's the doctor? I wouldn’t mind his opinion.” Erin said, wishing she was back in the New York hospital.

  “He was called out earlier but he had already suggested if it was his patient he wouldn’t operate again. No point in raising false hope he said.” Mrs. Grey looked at the patient sadly.

  Erin wavered. She could see his point but then there was Mrs. Hofmeister and their young boy, Max. What would they do without a husband and a father?

  “Excuse me, Doctor, can I speak to you please?”

  Erin looked up to find herself staring at Mrs. Hofmeister. She hadn’t realized the woman was in the room. She wouldn’t have spoken so plainly if she had.

  “I am glad I hear you speak frankly. My Hans would not want to be cripple. He did not come all this way to be a burden. Please not cut him again. But can you give him something so he is not in pain.”

  Erin nodded, she had a frog in her throat and couldn’t speak. She caught Mrs. Grey brush a tear from her face too. The bravery of the young foreign woman was astonishing. She loved her husband so much it was written all over her face.