Sawbones

by Melissa Lenhardt

  I tossed the bar of soap to him perfectly, making a neat splash of water into his face. “I am not married, and have been quite capable of guarding my own virtue these many years.”

  He shoved the cigar in his mouth and nodded to my gun. “I imagine you are.”

  I executed a low curtsy; too pleased by half with the image the gun gave me. I doubted Maureen considered this particular protection when she forced the gun on me but would be satisfied with the benefit, nonetheless. I picked up the kettle and bucket to leave.

  “Miss Elliston, please allow me to carry the bucket to your wagon. It is the least I can do for your service to me.” He held the soap aloft.

  I inclined my head, set the bucket on the ground, and scrambled up the side of the creek bank with as much grace as I could muster while holding a kettle full of water. A young soldier carrying a clean uniform for the general met me at the top of the bank.

  “Ma’am.”

  I inclined my head and walked toward our wagon, where Maureen stirred an impressive fire. “Where’s the rest?”

  I decided to wait to tell her of Sherman. It would be worth it to see her face if Sherman delivered the bucket of water himself. “It is being carried for me. The bank next to the creek is quite steep.”

  I ground the coffee, spooned it into the kettle, and set it over the fire to brew. I helped Maureen finish the biscuits. When the young soldier arrived with the water, our hands were covered in flour.

  “With the general’s compliments.”

  “Thank you, Private. Please, place it on the end of the wagon and thank the general as well.”

  The young man scurried off in the direction of a military ambulance. Maureen raised her eyebrows. “The general?”

  “You should have fetched the water. You would have gotten the thrill of your life.”

  Maureen’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean!”

  “He was covered, but only just.”

  “How did he look?”

  I leaned close and scanned our surroundings as if I was about to impart important, private information. Maureen moved closer.

  “Like a bare-chested man.”

  “Oh, you!”

  “Hurry down to the creek, Maureen. Maybe you can catch him getting dressed.”

  “I’ll do no such thing!”

  “I know how well you like redheaded men. He might be the only one around for hundreds of miles.”

  “He’s married!”

  “Excellent point. Which is why I’m sure he’d welcome a little harmless flirting.” I motioned at the countryside. “We women are in the minority out here, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “I’ve noticed.” She looked in the direction of Cornelius Warren’s wagon. Cornelius lifted his bowler from his head with a flourish. Maureen scowled and turned to poke the fire. “Coffee’ll be ready in a minute.”

  I waved to Cornelius. “I know I am out of practice, but I do believe Cornelius is wooing you, in his blustering way.”

  “Humph. If this is what the West is going to be like, men always looking out for a woman to make their life easier, well, I’m not gonna like it overmuch.”

  “Do you need my gun for protection?”

  “I can handle myself, thank you.”

  “I am sure once we get settled the offers for your hand will slow from a flood to a steady trickle.”

  Maureen brandished the spoon she was holding. “You aren’t so old I won’t use this on you.”

  I moved out of the way, laughing. “You never did when I was a child and deserved it. Why would you now?”

  She waved her hand at me as if swatting away a pesky fly and stirred the beans. “It’s good to see you laugh again. Even if it is at my expense.”

  “It has been too long, hasn’t it?” We sat on upturned crates with two mugs of coffee, waited for our biscuits to cook, and watched our fellow travelers set up camp.

  The wagon train consisted of ten wagons: six loaded with supplies for the Army forts; a chuck wagon for Amos and his cowboys; ours; Cornelius and Anna’s; and the Schleks’, a German family of six and owners of a trailing menagerie of animals including goats, mules, pigs, and a bitch ready to whelp. Frau Schlek was eight months pregnant. She was so hearty and hale I suspected she could stop, have her baby, and continue without missing a beat. The cowboys had a pool going for which would give birth first, her or her dog; I picked the dog.

  When the wagon train had pulled out of Austin ten days earlier, I told Cornelius we were a sad excuse for a vanguard for a new town. He laughed and assured me the success of Timberline, Colorado, did not rest on our little group entirely. A business partner of his was heading out from Saint Louis with over a one hundred families any day now. I was skeptical of his claims, but held my peace. I needed to get as far from civilization as possible and Cornelius Warren and his overeager optimism was my only option.

  Maureen watched the Warrens through narrowed eyes. Anna Warren tried to work while her father buzzed around her like a hummingbird trying to decide what flower to settle on. I knew Maureen well enough to see she was itching to go over there and take them in hand.

  “You and I make a good team,” I said.

  “Huh?”

  “Beans and biscuits cooking, animals taken care of. We work well together.”

  “That we do.”

  “The farther we get from civilization, the safer I feel.”

  Maureen nodded. “No one in Texas cares about a rich man dying in New York City. They’d probably give you a medal if they found out.”

  “Plenty would turn me in for the reward.”

  “Lucky there’s no mention of yer troubles out here.”

  Maureen would know. She had taken it upon herself to check every Wanted poster in Austin and did not find mine. She suggested more than once that the discovery of the dead woman had killed the scandal before it had the chance to spread too far west. She may have been right, but like today with Sherman, I still saw suspicion in everyone’s eyes. Not for the first time, I wondered if this fear would lurk in the back of my mind for the rest of my life.

  Maureen sipped her coffee, her eyes darting frequently to the Warren’s camp. I was not sure how much of Maureen’s interest in Cornelius was due to the man he was or to the man Maureen wanted to mold him into, but I knew she would never leave me if I did not give her a gentle push. I was an adult; I could survive on my own. Though she would always try to change me, she had molded me as much as she could. She needed to move on to her next project and hopefully find some happiness along the way. It was time to give my blessing.

  “Maureen.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I believe the biscuits are ready.”

  She lifted the lid to the skillet and nodded appreciatively. “So they are. You might make a cook yet, Laura.”

  “I just might. Cornelius and Anna, on the other hand, could use some help.”

  “Anna’s a bright girl. She’ll learn.”

  “Not with Cornelius teaching her. You should take them under your wing.”

  Maureen’s brow furrowed, but her face reddened. “What are you on about, Katie Girl?”

  “Don’t play coy with me. You know very well what I’m on about.” Maureen pressed her lips together and stared into her coffee. I put my mug down and knelt in front of her. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m so very happy for you. You deserve to find love.”

  “Harumph. Love. More like he needs a woman to take care of him.”

  “So what if he does? Taking care of people is what you’re best at. You took care of my father after my mother died. Raised me. Kept me well in hand for the past ten years.”

  “And a more difficult job I’ve never had.”

  “Think how much more compliant Anna will be. It will practically be a vacation for you.”

  Maureen laughed, but tears leaked out of her eyes. “Do you not need me anymore, Katie Girl?”

  “I’ll always need your love and support. But, it is time you and I both step
out on our own a bit.” I squeezed Maureen’s hand. “We will be in the same town, we could even arrange to be next door to each other, if you want. I daresay nothing much about our relationship will change. It’s just you’ll be sharing a bed with Cornelius.”

  Now Maureen’s face reddened so deeply I was afraid she would spontaneously combust. “We’ll not talk about that.”

  I patted her hand and stood. “I’ve read books on the act and picked up some rather interesting tips treating Camille’s girls.”

  Maureen gasped and stood. “Katie!”

  “You really need to stop calling me that.”

  “You need to remember you’re a lady and ladies do not talk about those things. I’m going to check that Cornelius and Anna haven’t burned their beans.”

  I suppressed a smile. I knew raising Maureen’s pique would push her into action.

  “Eat those biscuits before they get cold,” she said, and stalked off to take Cornelius and Anna under her wing.

  CHAPTER SIX

  After supper, everyone gravitated together to talk, listen to the fiddler play his two songs, and if we were lucky, eat a bit of the dessert Frau Schlek always had left over. On most nights dessert was apple crumb, due to the barrel of apples in their wagon, though I contributed wild berries whenever I came across them in my ramblings.

  With shawls wrapped around our shoulders Maureen and I moved to the Schleks’ fire, always the largest blaze thanks to the exuberance their youngest showed in gathering firewood. Frau Schlek was telling Maureen the recipe for her fruit crumble when General Sherman and a young officer approached.

  “May I join you?” the General asked.

  “Of course,” Amos Pike said, with more generosity than I expected. Herr Schlek stood and offered the general his chair.

  “Thank you.”

  Sherman talked to the Schleks about their journey. His young lieutenant stood near me, taking in the entire group. A wispy dark mustache struggled to banish the boyishness of his baby-smooth skin. His clear, callow eyes lingered on Anna Warren, obviously pleased at the sight of a beautiful young girl near his own age. Anna’s face was flushed, whether from the fire or the lieutenant’s gaze I did not know. Since she studiously avoided looking in his direction, I had my suspicions.

  “What is your name, Lieutenant?” I asked.

  He was well bred enough to shift his focus from Anna to me with a polite smile. No doubt he considered his duty as an officer and a gentleman to humor the middle-aged spinster. I suppressed a smile. “Lieutenant Beau Kindle, ma’am.”

  “Lieutenant Kindle is readying to see his uncle for the first time,” Sherman interjected. “How long has it been, Lieutenant?”

  “Eight years, sir.”

  “Long time,” Sherman said. “Most like he won’t be as you remember him, Kindle.”

  “Where is your uncle, Lieutenant Kindle?” I asked.

  “He is stationed at Fort Richardson, ma’am. Captain William Kindle,” he said, as if I would recognize the name.

  “Fought with him at Antietam. He got a bad wound there, if I remember correctly.”

  “Yes, sir, he did.”

  I pulled my shawl closer against the chill the name gave me. Antietam. The worst—and best—day of my life. It was the day my father received the wound that would eventually kill him, the last day of my masquerade as a male orderly, and the day I realized my true calling as a doctor. As Sherman took control of the campfire conversation, I wondered if I helped treat Lieutenant Kindle’s uncle.

  Sherman spent the next hour talking to us, asking where we came from, where we were going, and sharing more than a few stories of his time in California. He was an amiable fireside companion while he was on the subject of the joys of the West and the bright future for the emigrants. When conversation turned to his journey in Texas and what he saw of the Indian problem, the aspect of his personality that expected to be deferred to on every subject and had been polished to a bright shine by years of Army command emerged. I watched Amos while Sherman railed against politicians so concerned with ridding their state of “lying, cheating Yankees” that they would fabricate stories of massacres and raids to divert soldiers from the important task of Reconstruction. Pike, at last, could take no more.

  “Fabricate stories? Are you blind, man?”

  “Blind? I have seen nothing to indicate Indians are raiding up and down the line of settlements.”

  “What do you make of the abandoned homesteads you’ve passed since San Antone? You think those people just up and left? These same salt-of-the-earth immigrants you think are going to make the West great? Somehow the lily-livered ones just happened to settle in a line out here? Those that weren’t killed in their homes and in their fields were scared east. And why? Because your precious Army don’t know how to fight them and because Yankee politicians are more concerned with taking their pound of flesh from us than helping us!”

  Sherman’s face resembled so many New York granite statues. “My army knows how to fight. Have you forgotten the lesson the Army taught you rebels six years ago?”

  “I haven’t forgotten the swath of wasteland you left through Georgia, nor has any other right-minded Southerner. Maybe the reason you don’t see anything alarming out here is because it coincides with your idea of warfare.”

  “From what I hear, it’s as likely to be white men as Indians.” When Pike didn’t immediately answer, Sherman pressed his point. “White men paid by ex-Confederates to murder innocent people to draw us away from Reconstruction.”

  “Reconstruction ended here a year ago,” Cornelius said.

  “Indeed. So why are Rebel gangs still raiding?” Sherman asked. “Because the settlers are easy pickings? Or because there is money in it?”

  “They could be carpetbaggers as easy as Rebels,” Amos said. “And don’t you worry. Those white men will swing for what they’re doing. What we don’t like is the government taking care of Indians, and then the savages turning around and massacarin’ our people.”

  “The peace policy—” Sherman said.

  “The peace policy.” Amos sneered. “That might be the worst-conceived idea the government has ever had, and that’s saying something. Even your Quaker up in Fort Sill thinks it’s a failure. And he’s the one administering it!”

  “These Indian stories are all blown out of proportion.”

  Pike shook his head in wonderment. “You aren’t going to believe it until you see it for yourself. It’s a terrible thing more innocent people are going to have to die brutal deaths to get their government to believe there’s a problem. I only hope the Comanche has the politeness to murder a bunch of farmers when you’re in the neighborhood.”

  “It’s only a matter of time before our men beat them.”

  “How do you propose to do that? Line them up behind a fence and fire on them until time to charge? That ain’t how Indians fight. Never have, never will. You ain’t fighting one army with a bunch of commanders of the same mind. You’re fighting different nations and tribes within the nations. You don’t know where or when they will attack because they don’t think like we do. There is only one way to stop them.”

  “Please, Mr. Pike, tell us.”

  “Kill or hang ’em all.”

  “Even the women and children?”

  “They don’t care about killing our women and children, why should we care about killing theirs?” Amos said.

  “That’s barbaric,” Anna said.

  “It is. Nothing else will stop them.”

  “I know our soldiers, the quality and resilience of the American man, will win in the end,” Sherman said.

  Though I agreed with the sentiment, it was said with such dismissive arrogance even I was offended.

  Amos stood. “I’m glad you have such confidence. I ain’t seen no one since Jack Hayes who could outsmart an Indian.” He walked off.

  Maureen was pale and her hand shook as she lifted her cup to drink. Damn these men for scaring her with their stories. I
changed the subject by addressing a nearby cowboy with his arm in a sling. “Walter, how is your arm?”

  “Fine, Doc. Though it itches a bit.”

  “That’s normal. I’ll remove the cast in a week or two.”

  “Doc?” Sherman interjected.

  My back straightened. My midwife ruse had abruptly ended when I set Walter’s compound fracture. Everyone in the wagon train took it in stride. Sherman didn’t strike me as the type of man who would approve of a female physician. “Yes, General. I am a doctor.”

  “I have heard rumors of female doctors in New York, but I never put much stock in such an outlandish idea. All the more reason to get away from that cesspool, I say.”

  “I trained in London,” I said. Sherman shrugged, as if it was the same to him.

  “She did a fine job on my arm,” Walter said.

  “Hell, son, I can set a broken bone. There’s not much skill in it.”

  “When the bone is sticking up out of the skin, I guess there is,” Frau Schlek said. “I don’t know a man who could have fixed it.”

  “Thank you, Frau Schlek. Do not bother trying to convince General Sherman of my skills. Men rarely believe a woman could be better than a man at a profession such as medicine. Their doubt only makes me more determined to prove them wrong.”

  “Let’s hope you never get the chance,” Sherman laughed.

  “If there are more reckless cowboys out here like Walter, unfortunately I will.”

  “Now, ma’am, I told you my horse got spooked by a snake.”

  “Yeah, the mysterious, disappearin’ snake,” another cowboy said.

  “Did you hear of the female doctor in New York who killed a man?” Beau Kindle said.

  I forced myself to stay relaxed and turned my attention to Lieutenant Kindle. “No.”

  “She killed him out of jealousy,” Beau Kindle said with enthusiasm. At Sherman’s expression of disgust, Beau turned red and clarified without the eagerness in his voice. “My sister wrote to me about it.”