Handful Of Flowers

by Hake, Cathy Marie

I’ve never used it to treat a headache, either. I recall my grandmother borrowing it for a maid, but I’m not about to confess that. They need to have confidence in this. Sometimes it’s not the treatment but just the belief that it will work. Eric nodded to Lovejoy. “Oil of peppermint is known to work for both stomach ache and headache.”

  “You got a fine touch. The carin’ shows.”

  The candy-sweet fragrance of peppermint filled the air as he uncapped the bottle. Eric removed the compress only long enough to rub oil on Polly’s temples and forehead. The texture of her skin was soft as her hair, but tension pulled it taut. He could literally feel the ache. Eric capped the bottle, set it aside, and murmured, “Do you want anything, Polly?”

  No.

  “Precious Lord Jesus, hold my Polly.” Lovejoy smoothed the blankets and continued to pray under her breath.

  Prayer. On that, they agreed.

  ❧

  Polly closed her Bible and took another sip of tea. Though the migraine finally eased off last night, her stomach still felt tipsy. Oftentimes after a headache, her stomach stayed unsettled for a day or so—but she secretly wondered if part of it might be butterflies. After all, Dr. Walcott hadn’t just checked in on her the day he was here buying a horse. He’d also come back again late this morning.

  “So now that you’re done with devotions, tell me,” Kate said as she sat down beside Polly and leaned close, “wasn’t it thrilling to have the doctor come pay you a visit?”

  “It was a medical call, not a visit,” Polly replied.

  “Of course it was,” Laurel agreed, far too fast. Her huge smile and the tightness at the corners of that smile labeled her as a patent liar. “I’m sure if it were any of the boys who complained of a sick headache, Dr. Walcott would have been just as concerned and would have taken their hand in his for minutes on end.”

  “He was taking Polly’s pulse,” April snapped.

  He had taken her pulse for a long while. Just the memory set those butterflies into flurries again. Steadying herself with a deep breath, Polly warned herself, Don’t be a fool and imagine something stupid. It was merely professional concern. Long ago Mama taught her to be careful about this very issue—folks felt grateful and vulnerable when sick and newly healed. Sometimes they mixed up the appreciation with attraction. He came for my headache, not for me, Polly told herself firmly. Then she looked at her cousins and said that very thing.

  “Are you coming to supper?” Laurel stood by the stove, exchanging the sadirons so she could press their Sunday dresses.

  “I think I’ll stay here.” The notion of some quiet time felt good. Polly had a lot of thinking and praying to do.

  “I’m thinking perhaps I ought to skip supper myself,” Laurel confessed. “I want to be able to cinch in my waist tomorrow.”

  “You don’t need to,” Polly said. “A man could span your waist with his hands.”

  “I have to keep it that way.”

  “Oh, stop being so vain,” April moped. “Every man in the county is after you. It’s not as if you can’t capture whomever you set out to attract.”

  “I already know who I want.” Laurel giggled. “I’m trying to keep his attention.”

  “You won’t see him ’til tomorrow at church,” April said. She handed the hairbrush off to Kate and started to towel her wet hair. “And if you help me put my hair up in rags tonight, I’ll even polish your shoes.”

  “I’d help you curl your hair anyway.” Laurel leaned forward and whispered loudly to Polly, “I think she’s still hoping to have the new doctor take notice of her.”

  April headed out the door. “So what if I am?” She shut the door before her cousins could react.

  “What got into her?” Kate set down the hairbrush and took up her mending. Awkwardly mending a hole in her petticoat, she said, “We’re both sixteen, and I’m smart enough to know a woman doesn’t chase a man. Why doesn’t she? Polly, you’d better sit her down and talk sense into her.”

  “That’s Aunt Miriam’s place. I’ll give April my opinion if she asks, and when we’re around the doctor, I’ll try to help her so she doesn’t make a ninny of herself.”

  “Oh, she’s sure to do that. Ouch!” Kate jerked back her hand, dropped the mending, and popped her finger into her mouth.

  Polly sighed. “If she brings up the topic, we need to be direct but gentle. Her feelings are running high. Honesty is essential, and we’d be failing her if we pretended it would be a sound match, but I don’t want either of you teasing her. If you do, she’ll dig in her heels, and it’ll be a mess.”

  Laurel swept the iron back and forth, navigating ruffles with great skill. “Polly, why don’t you set your cap for the doctor? You’d make a fine pair, I’m sure.”

  “I agree!” Kate bravely picked up the needle once again. “Think of all the help you could give one another.”

  “When the time comes for me to marry, I want a man who loves me as a wife—not someone who’s looking to get a nurse for free.”

  “Of course you do,” Laurel said. “I was just trying to point out that the two of you have a lot in common. That always makes for a happy home.”

  “We barely know each other. Snap judgments like that are bound to be fraught with danger. To my way of thinking, the home we need to concern ourselves with is this one. One of us chasing after a man is one too many.”

  “Well, I’m just saying you need to keep your eyes open to the men God puts in your life.” Laurel set down the iron, lifted her midnight blue gown from the ironing board, and gave it a pleased shake. As she pretended to waltz across the plank floor, she shot Polly a coy glance. “I don’t intend to be mean, but you’re getting old.”

  “Old?” Polly gave her cousin an offended look.

  “Now don’t get all fussy on me. I’m trying hard to make sure you’ll be happy in the future.”

  “Pastor Abe always tells us not to worry about tomorrow.”

  Laurel hung her dress in the wardrobe. “All right. So let’s look at that entire verse in Philippians 4: ‘Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.’ I’m saying we need to be praying about a husband for you.”

  “Oh, no,” Polly heaved an impatient breath. “Keep going. Verse 7: ‘And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.’ I’ve a peace about this. When the time comes, the man will come.”

  “I agree.” Laurel gave her a sweet smile, then singsonged, “Verse 8: ‘Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.’ I’m telling you it’s time for you to think on those things.”

  “What I’m thinking about is we’re going to have a bunch of hungry Chances banging on our door if we don’t go to supper!”

  “Oh, so you’re going now?” Kate hopped up.

  Polly rubbed her forehead. “Why not?”

  Polly thought she’d managed to hold her own with Laurel’s matchmaking conversation until they cleaned up after supper. Laurel dropped a handful of silverware into the sink. “Aunt Lovejoy, it occurs to me that we ought to invite the new doctor to Sunday supper.”

  “There’s a right fine notion.” Mama Lovejoy bobbed her head. “Poor feller’s on his lonesome. Hope he’ll come to worship. Mayhap Dan’l can give him the invite.”

  “Yes. That’s a wonderful idea,” Laurel enthused. She shot Polly a sideways glance and grinned.

  “Man likely doesn’t know a soul. He jest moved here.”

  “That’s true.” Laurel’s tone set Polly’s nerves jangling. “It’s the way of the world for all of us to grow up and move on. Why, one of these days, Polly will marry and move away. Most of us will—though not as soon.”

  Polly tamped down the urge to serve Laurel
a secret little kick.

  Mama turned to her. “You got yore eye on somebody, Polly-mine?”

  “When I fall in love, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Dread snaked through Polly. She knew that look in Mama’s eyes. It said, This topic isn’t over yet. Just as soon as dishes were finished, Mama walked outside and steered her off to the side. “So what’s this ’bout you marryin’ up and movin’ on?”

  “Laurel’s being silly. She’s wanting someone to pay court to her, and I think she’s afraid I’m supposed to be married first.”

  Mama nodded sagely. She peeled bark from an oak with economical movements for a few seconds, then cast away the shreds. “What do you think?”

  “The bark was too damp.”

  “I’m not askin’ ’bout the bark, and well you know it.”

  Polly smiled. “I’m in no hurry to get married. All three of the girls could marry before me, and I wouldn’t be upset. You always told me to wait for the man who set my heart afire. Until he comes along and kindles the flame, I’m content to wait.”

  Five

  “Hey, Doc?” A slick-looking man strode into the boarding-house. “How ’bout you grab your bag and follow me?”

  “Jake’s got trouble at the saloon again,” one of the men muttered. He gave Eric a telling look.

  “Go on ahead,” Bob said. “I’ll ask them to keep some supper in the warmer for you.”

  “Thanks.” Eric hastened upstairs, grabbed his bag, and followed the saloon keeper. “What sort of difficulty will I be treating?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The brightness of the street gave way to the dank atmosphere of the saloon. Eric followed Jake up the crimson-carpeted stairs. Jake motioned him into a room, then shut the door. A painted woman sat by an iron bed, murmuring softly to a sweat-soaked younger girl who was curled up tightly on her side. She looked up at him, spied his bag, and sighed.

  “Jake found out she was carryin’. He gave her something, and now she’s crampin’ something fierce. No doubt, she’ll lose the babe, but she’s in a bad way. I told Jake to fetch your help, or we’d lose her, too.”

  Everything within Eric revolted. Just yesterday, he’d wanted to try to pull a mother and child through, and he’d been rebuffed. Now his first case was to salvage the life of a soiled dove whose child was not to be. Lord, why?

  He set down his bag and rolled up his sleeves.

  ❧

  “Gideon, I thought you invited the doctor to church,” Aunt Miriam said after the service.

  “I did.” Uncle Gideon helped Aunt Miriam into the buck-board, then lifted in their youngest sons.

  “I heard him,” Polly heard Daddy say as he lifted Mama Lovejoy in. He then swiped little Troy from Alisa, gave him to Mama, and lifted Alisa in.

  Mama gave Aunt Daisy a look that bordered on frazzled. “But neither of them thought to ask the man to supper.”

  Daddy and Uncle Gideon didn’t look the least bit chastened. Uncle Gideon leaned over and kissed Aunt Miriam’s temple. “Everyone for miles around knows they’re always welcome at our table.”

  “Everyone for miles around,” Aunt Alisa pointed out, “has lived here for years. The doctor is new.”

  “Supper or not, it still woulda been nice for him to show up and let us know if he’s happy with that new gelding,” Calvin grumbled. “He’s had it a few days now. I spent a lot of time taming and training that mount.”

  “It would have been nice to have the doctor come for worship,” Aunt Miriam corrected her son.

  “There was a time I didn’t want to worship, either,” Aunt Delilah confessed.

  As the family chattered and loaded the smaller children into the buckboard, Kate, Laurel, and April all piled into the MacPhersons’ rig. Polly still hadn’t decided where she’d spend her Sunday afternoon. The notion of having the cabin to herself held some appeal. She didn’t regret inviting the girls to move in with her, but the continual chatter when she was accustomed to silence and precious solitude did wear on her some of the time—especially when she suffered the aftermath of a migraine.

  Complicating the matter even more, Kate and Laurel managed to pair her up with the doctor in their conversations. April bristled over that fact until Polly finally sat up in bed last night and told them all to stop acting like a flock of gossipy, pecky hens. They’d apologized to one another, said a bedtime prayer, and slipped off to sleep.

  Only Polly hadn’t slept. If I go home, I can be alone—even take a nap—without anyone bothering me.

  Uncle Bryce mounted his sorrel gelding and nosed him toward Polly. He reached a hand toward her. “Ride with me.”

  She rode pillion. None of the other girls did—they always rode ahead of a man on his horse, but Mama Lovejoy always rode pillion with Daddy, and Polly followed her example.

  The older cousins and men rode horses to and from worship; the women and smaller children took two buckboards. Only now Bryce didn’t take the usual path back to the ranch. He turned south and rode along the fence.

  “Gotta talk,” he finally said.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  He squinted ahead and cleared his throat. “If you plan to meet with the doc or work with him, make sure your ma’s with you.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Might be.”

  Polly poked him. “Stop being so cryptic.”

  “I don’t ask you ’bout the calls you pay on folks and what ails them.”

  “That’s because they deserve their dignity and privacy. What does that have to do with the doctor?”

  Uncle Bryce heaved a sigh. “Do you have to be so difficult?”

  She laughed. “When haven’t I been difficult?”

  He chuckled. “You got a point there.”

  Polly waited. He didn’t say anything more, so she prodded, “Well?”

  “Can’t tell you how I know what I know. I just know it.”

  “Okay, Uncle Bryce, so what do you know?”

  “Doc spent half the night at the Nugget.” He paused and tacked on, “He wasn’t downstairs.”

  “I see.”

  Her uncle turned in the saddle and gave her a sour look. “I don’t want you around that man.”

  “This isn’t like you, Uncle Bryce. You don’t make snap judgments.”

  “I’m not leaping to any conclusions. I know what I know, and I’ve told you as much as you need to know. I’m keepin’ this just ’tween the both of us because I won’t go blackening a man’s name—but I’m not going to have your reputation sullied by association.”

  Polly took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll do my best.”

  He nodded, then turned toward home.

  They’d traveled about fifty yards when she tugged on his shirt. “Stop here. I’ll gather some of this lupine as an excuse for us to have come by this way.”

  “We just left church—do I have to remind you that it’s Sunday?”

  Polly wasn’t sure if he meant that she’d be walking a fine line in regard to being truthful or if he referred to the fact that unless a dire need for a particular herb existed, gathering on Sunday simply wasn’t done. “I won’t get in trouble. We need fresh flowers on the tables.”

  “Next thing you’ll tell me is that you have your bag with you.”

  She laughed. Polly rarely went anywhere without her gathering knife or a bag to collect the plants, bark, or twigs that caught her fancy.

  “That sounded like a guilty laugh.”

  Polly slid off the horse. “Turn your head.” He muttered something under his breath, but he dismounted and complied. Polly yanked up the right side of her skirts and bent down to take the knife from the small sheath she’d buckled atop her ankle boots.

  “Are you going to take all day? I’m hungry.”

  “You could help me.”

  Uncle Bryce turned around and let out a snort.

  “Then make yourself useful and hang on to this.” Polly handed him the bag, which he h
eld open. In a few short minutes, she cut checkerbloom, lupine, and hound’s-tongue. “There. That ought to do.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” Polly impulsively gave her uncle a hug. He was the youngest of her uncles and the last to get married. Aunt Miriam said he’d taken a special shine to Polly from way back, but the year diphtheria took his little stepson Jamie and her sister Ginny Mae, they’d mourned and comforted one another. Often she thought of him as being more like a cousin than an uncle. More than once, he’d stood up for her when the boys didn’t understand why she was different. Bringing her out here for this conversation was another example of how he cared. “Thank you. I’ll be mindful of what you told me.”

  He nodded. “You do that.”

  ❧

  Much to Eric’s regret, he’d slept straight through the church bells chiming. He’d been up late into the night tending that soiled dove and nearly lost her. It wasn’t until the wee hours of the morning that she stabilized.

  During his hours at the bordello, he’d managed to pass the word to the older painted woman that he had connections. In the future, if one of the “girls” found herself “in trouble,” he could send her away where she’d be placed with a family and leave the baby for adoption. To his relief, she’d promised to whisper that possibility to everyone.

  But his heart still weighed heavy. Wanting time alone with the Lord this morning, he’d grabbed his Bible and walked out of town. This spot seemed perfect for devotions—serene, beautiful, private. Unfortunately, he’d barely opened the Word when the couple rode by. He recognized Polly at once. He’d not yet seen the man before.

  Unwilling to be present at a tryst, Eric closed his Bible and rose to leave. For some reason, he couldn’t quite set his feet in motion. To his surprise, the couple didn’t linger at all. Less than five minutes after they rode up, they rode off again. Judging from the hug, they were probably courting.

  A smile chased across Eric’s face. The day he’d bought his horse, he’d determined if Polly married, she’d have her hands full with helping her husband and rearing children. An older husband would be especially good for her—settle her down. And she’d looked at that man with a lot of tenderness.