Santa Fe Woman

by Gilbert, Morris

  Mark looked down at his sister. He, too, could see the wound and had no hope. He put his hand on her shoulder but could think of nothing to say. He looked down at Carleen and saw that her eyes were wide with shock. Kneeling down, he put his arm around her.

  “It’ll be all right, little sister,” he said. But he knew in his heart that it would not.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  A RISING FLOOD OF clear and brilliant sunshine touched the prairie, and for a time, it seemed to Kate, the world was bathed in morning’s freshness. She had learned to love this time of day, the “cobwebby time” she sometimes called it, and now she stood peering to the east, longing to see the sign of someone coming. For a long time she stood there watching the gray blades of light slice away at the darkness and glancing up at the stars. She thought that they seemed cold and brilliant and somehow ominous. A strange feeling came to her, and a faint distant memory had its way with her for a moment.

  “I guess I could have one of those biscuits if you can spare it.”

  Kate turned to look at Leland, who was standing with his tin plate in his hand. He looked worn and tired in the early morning light, and when she gave him another biscuit he nibbled it without much sign of appetite. “I keep thinking I need to go look for them.”

  “That wouldn’t do, Leland. What good would you be? You couldn’t track anything more than I could.”

  “I know it, but I want to do something!”

  “We all do, but our job right now is to hold on here.” She moved closer and put her hand on Leland’s arm. “Waiting’s the hardest thing to do. Always easier to be doing something, but right now we just have to seek God and pray and believe.”

  Leland gave her a faint smile. “I was never very good at waiting.”

  “No, you were always good at doing things.”

  “It’s a lot easier to do religious things than it is to be religious.”

  “What a strange thing to say!”

  “Well, it’s true enough. You just think about it. Remember when the Harrisons’ house burned down? That poor family that lived on the other side of town. Members of our church, you remember.”

  “Yes, I do. What about them?”

  “Why, the whole church was galvanized into action. Everybody was there. You brought two of the children to stay with us for a few days until we could find another house for them. People were bringing food and finding a place for them to live.” He took another bite of the biscuit and shook his head saying mournfully, “It’s a shame that the church’s finest hour has to be when somebody’s house burns down. But that’s the way it is. You try to get everybody to come and pray all night. See how many volunteers you get. I never could understand how people could pray all night. Why, I could pray for everybody I know in thirty minutes, then I’d just be repeating myself.”

  “I don’t pray like that, Leland.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why, some prayers are pretty formal. We put them into words. ‘Lord, help me to get that piece of property I want.’ We can say it again, or we can say it ten times, but I think the things I really prayed for I didn’t put into words more than once perhaps.”

  “What’d you do the rest of the time?” Leland was interested. He seemed to forget the biscuit and stared at her. “How’d you pray if not in words?”

  “I think it’s just being aware that God is there, that we said our prayers.” She smiled faintly and said, “I think it’s kind of like a mother that has a young baby although I’ve never had one. But they tell me they’re always conscious of that baby even if they’re not thinking directly about it. There’s part of them that’s always in that crib no matter what they’re doing—washing dishes, washing clothes. Their mind is always open and they never really forget it. That’s the way it is with me when I’m really praying for something. God knows our prayers, and He knows we care, and we’ve got to keep telling Him that we love Him and we trust Him.”

  Leland’s voice was shaded with admiration. “I admire you, Kate, I truly do. You’ve been the one that held the family together after we lost your sister.”

  They were interrupted when Callie came up saying, “Could I have some of the grits and bacon and a biscuit or two?”

  “There’s plenty.”

  “I thought I’d take them to Paul. He’s been standing guard all night. I know he’s hungry.”

  “Here, I’ll fix you up a plate.” Kate filled the plate and then watched the girl as she left. “I don’t know what’ll become of Callie. She has nobody. God will just have to look out for her.”

  * * *

  PAUL TURNED AND SAW Callie as she came with a plate in her hand. She carried a cup of coffee in the other hand. “Here, I brought your breakfast.”

  “That sounds good,” he said. He laid the rifle down on the ground, took the plate and the coffee, and sat down cross-legged. He began to eat, and she sat down beside him. Silence seemed to flood the earth at this early morning hour. They could hear the restless movements of the mules, and one of them gave a hoarse cry that split the silence. Finally Callie said, “They’ve just got to come back, Paul, they just have to!”

  Molitor took a swallow of the coffee, then he shook his head in a slight movement of disbelief. “Good things don’t happen too often, Callie.”

  “But sometimes they do.”

  Molitor studied the girl. She had taken off her hat, and now the early sun touched her hair. It was as black as the blackest thing in nature. As he studied her, her lips made a small change at the corners as something touched her mind. She made a little gesture with her shoulders then turned to look at him. “Don’t you think Rocklin will get them?”

  “If it can be done, he’ll do it.”

  Callie reached down and pulled up a blade of grass. She brushed across it with the tips of her fingers and said, “I’ve had a lot of bad things happen in my life, but I still hope. I still believe God can do anything.”

  “I’m glad you feel like that, Callie,” Paul said. “It’s the way a person ought to feel, but then I—”

  “Listen,” Callie said, springing to her feet. She was looking toward the east, and after staring, she cried, “It’s them! I see the Indians!”

  The two immediately ran and joined the others, who were coming together in a rush.

  Kate had been talking to Good News when he heard a shout, and whirling she saw the party coming across the prairie. “It’s them!” she said. “Praise God, it’s them! Come on!”

  They rushed out and were joined by Leland and several of the teamsters.

  Leland outdistanced her, running and crying out the names of his daughters. They ran to him and collided, hanging onto each other. Leland was laughing and crying at the same time. “You’re all right—you’re all right! I can’t believe it. Praise the Lord.”

  Kate stood back, letting them have their moment. Mark came to stand beside his father. He looked pale in the morning light and somehow seemed more mature.

  “Where’s Rocklin?” Kate asked.

  “He’s been hurt,” Mark said. He turned and waved toward a travois. “The Indians made that stretcher thing that’s hooked onto the horse.”

  Jori broke away from her father, and when she embraced Kate, she said, “He’s hurt so bad, Aunt Kate. I’m afraid for him.”

  Jori moved toward the travois, and as Kate followed her, she saw that both of the Indians had bloody scalps on strips of rawhide tied around their horses’ necks. Kicking Bird looked at her and laughed aloud and held up the string of scalps. “Plenty scalps.”

  Kate ignored him and knelt down beside Chad and looked into his face. He was utterly still, and his mouth was open as he breathed heavily. “It’s his head right on top. You see? He got hit by a club.”

  Kate bent forward and peered at the skull. She saw that there was an indentation there. “His color’s not good.”

  “No, he’s worse than when we started, but we didn’t know what to do,” Jori said.

  “Bring
him into the camp. I’ll go make a bed up for him. Be careful how you move him.”

  Mark nodded as Kate whirled and ran away. “I knew it was dangerous, Father, but we didn’t know what else to do.”

  “I want to hear all about it, but we’d better take care of Chad first.”

  Fifteen minutes later Chad Rocklin was lying on his back. Blankets were under him and over him. He was in the shade of the wagon, and Jori was kneeling down and looking at the wound. “Can’t you do something, Aunt Kate?”

  Kate heard the frantic quality of Jori’s voice and said reluctantly, “There’s nothing I can do with a wound like that.”

  * * *

  SOON THE WHOLE TRAIN was buzzing with the news. The teamsters all wanted to know the details, and Mark told them as best he could.

  Herendeen listened and said, “What about Rocklin? Is he gonna make it?”

  “I don’t think so, Grat. It’s pretty bad.”

  “Too bad,” Herendeen shook his head.

  “What do you care? He beat the tar out of you,” Stuffy McGinnis said.

  “That don’t mean he’s not a good man. Shut your fool mouth, Stuffy!”

  Callie had stayed on the outskirts of the area where Rocklin lay under the blankets. She watched as Kate and Jori went to him, trying to think of something to make him more comfortable, but she had seen enough life to know that there was little hope. Finally she heard Leland Hayden exclaim, “If we only had a doctor here, he could do something!”

  At those words Callie suddenly straightened up. A thought had come to her, and she turned at once and glanced around the circle. She was looking for Molitor, but he was not there. She tried to think when she had seen him. Everybody had come when the party had returned, but there was no sign of Paul. She thought, He’s probably taking care of the animals. She got up and went to where the herd was staked out and asked Pedro, who merely shook his head. “Haven’t seen him,” he muttered.

  Callie began to circle the camp. He wasn’t with any of the wagons. He wasn’t with the animals. They had stopped beside a small stream where the water had been sufficient for the animals and for their own use. Now she ran quickly and almost at once found Molitor standing between two spindly cottonwoods. He turned as she came up to him, and his eyes seemed sunk in his head. “Is he dead?” he asked almost harshly.

  “No, he’s alive, but he needs help.”

  Molitor turned and looked back down into the small stream. His shoulders were slumped, and a silence wrapped itself around him.

  “You can help him like you helped me with my shoulder,” Callie said. She came to where she could look up into his face, and she saw the bleakest expression she had ever seen on Molitor’s features. “You can help him, Paul.”

  “This is a lot different from putting a dislocated shoulder back.” He suddenly lifted a flask she had not seen and took a drink.

  She smelled the raw odor of whiskey and said quickly, “Getting drunk won’t help, Paul.”

  He swallowed the alcohol, shuddered as it hit his stomach, and then turned to face her. “Neither will killing a patient. I’ve done that once.”

  For one moment Callie did not understand what he was saying, and then it came to her. “Patient? You’ve had patients? That means you’re a doctor.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Callie caught his arm. “You are a doctor, aren’t you?”

  “A long time ago. Now leave me alone, Callie.”

  “Paul, you can’t let him die. None of us know what to do. You’re the only one who can help.”

  “I can’t help anyone—not even myself. Now leave me alone.” Suddenly Molitor tore his arm free from her grasp and walked across the creek. The water splashed, and he emerged on the other side.

  Callie stood watching him, then called out, “Paul, you can do it. You’ve got to do it!” He did not answer, and she turned slowly and made her way back to the camp. She was thinking all the time, What can I do? Finally she knew she had to tell someone. When she got to the camp, she saw Jori kneeling beside Rocklin and Kate standing at his feet watching the pair. For a moment Callie hesitated, then she said, “I just talked to Paul. He’s a doctor.”

  Both women looked at her, and Jori’s eyes flew open. “What do you mean?”

  “He told me. He used to be a doctor.”

  “Well, why isn’t he here?” Kate cried. “We need him.”

  “He says he used to be a doctor but he’s not anymore.”

  Jori got to her feet. “I’ve got to find him.”

  “He waded across the creek. He was headed out on the prairie.”

  “Wait a minute,” Kate said. “It sounds like he’s got a problem. I’ve always known there was something in that man. He’s not like most of the men we see.”

  “He told me he got drunk and killed a patient when he operated. He said after that he couldn’t be a doctor anymore.”

  “Well, we’ve got to pray that he will. It’s Chad’s only hope,” Kate said. “So, just start praying, and then we’ll see.”

  * * *

  MOLITOR HAD FLED THE camp. He could hear only faintly the sounds of voices now. He walked upstream aimlessly. Finally he was as miserable as he had ever been in his life. He drank the rest of the liquor in the small bottle and threw it away with one swift, vicious motion. It hit an outcropping of rock and shattered.

  “Paul, are you there?”

  Paul Molitor turned quickly and saw Jori Hayden coming toward him. He knew at once that Callie had told her what he had said, and now he braced himself for what he knew was coming.

  Jori stopped immediately in front of him and said, “You’ve got to help Chad, Paul. You just have to. There’s nobody else.”

  “You don’t understand, Jori. I’m no better than a murderer. I got drunk, and I tried to operate and killed a woman. She’s dead, in her grave, because of me.”

  “That was a terrible thing, but, don’t you see, this could somehow make up for that. You can’t bring her back to life, but you could save Rocklin’s life.”

  “No, I couldn’t. Look at my hands. They tremble just thinking about operating on someone, and an operation like he would need would take a skilled surgeon in a hospital somewhere.”

  Jori’s eyes were fixed on Molitor’s face. “While the Indians had me, I had just about given up hope. And then in the middle of the night I began to talk to God. I didn’t make any promises except to follow Jesus, but I know somehow he heard that prayer, and he brought Chad and the others to save Carleen and me. You need to be saved, Paul, just like I did. God has given you a gift, and you’re throwing it away.”

  “I can’t do it, Jori, I just can’t!”

  “Yes, you can. I can’t make you do it. No one can. But I want you to know that no one would hold you accountable if the operation didn’t save Rocklin. He’s going to die. He looks worse every minute. What kind of operation would it be?”

  “It’s called a trephine. The bones of his skull have been crushed. It needs to be lifted and maybe a steel plate put in there. It’s a very delicate operation, and look at me—I’m nothing but a drunk.”

  “I believe God’s put you here for a purpose. That was the way it was with Esther. She was in the one place at the one time that her people were all going to be killed, but she was in the palace and had the king’s ear. That’s when her relative told her, ‘Thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this.’ I think you are in this wagon train for that purpose, Paul.”

  Paul Molitor stood there, his head bowed and his eyes almost closed, trying to shut out what Jori was saying. She continued to speak softly but firmly and urgently. Finally he heard her say, “This is your chance, Paul. You can do your best. That’s all any man can do, or any woman. Will you try?”

  Paul Molitor stood in the morning air. It was as if he were on a high wall about to fall either to the right or to the left. Which way he fell would be the way he would be for the rest of his life. He thought back over the bitterness of the years when he
had left the practice. What a painful and miserable life it had been. He thought of the joy that he had had when he was a young man just beginning to practice medicine. He felt then that life was good, but since the day that he had lost Marie Anders, there had been no happiness. Suddenly a resolve came to him. It was a resolve born of desperation. He straightened up, pulled his shoulders back, and looked down at his hands. “Jori, I don’t think I can help him, but I’ll try.”

  Jori let out a glad cry and threw her arms around him. “Thank God!” she exclaimed. “You’ll have to tell us what to do. I’ll help.”

  * * *

  “YOU KNOW WHAT THAT fella’s gonna do?” Stuffy McGinnis was staring over at the scene in the center of the wagons. Charlie Reuschel and Jesse Burkett had constructed a table, of sorts, using whatever material they could. Rocklin was lying on the table with a blanket over him, and Jori and Kate stood close.

  “He’s gonna cut the top of his head off and mix his brains all up until they’re fixed.”

  “That won’t ride. That’ll kill that fella,” Eddie Plank said with astonishment. “I never heard of such a thing.”

  “Come on. I wanna see this,” Stuffy said.

  He moved forward, but he was met by Herendeen, who said, “You keep out of there. Let Molitor do what he can.”

  The men all obeyed Herendeen, but they could see and they could hear very clearly everything that was said.

  * * *

  MOLITOR LOOKED AROUND THE circle and said, “We’re going to have to have a plate. When that bone comes out, I’ll have to put something in.”

  “What kind of a plate, boss?” Addie Joss was standing there.

  “Something about this big, about the size of a silver dollar, very thin. Better if it were made out of silver.”

  “I can do that!” Addie Joss exclaimed at once. “I can take this silver dollar and beat it out.”

  “Do it now, Addie.”

  As Joss left, Molitor looked around the circle. His black bag, which he had carried all the years since he had left practice, he had brought with him. He never could understand why, since he never used it, but it was the one tie to his old life and, perhaps, a symbol of what might happen one day. Now it was happening, and Paul Molitor looked around at the faces. They were all hopeful, and he said, “I’ll say this again. I don’t think this will work.”