He helped the boy from the table. “And tell her to keep the wound clean.”
“Thank you.” The older boy slipped an arm around his brother. He hobbled with him to the door, stopped, and looked back. “Oh, Doctor, if you need a real good woman, you won’t find a better lady than our teacher.”
“That so?”
“Yep. Teacher . . . well, she really cares for us. And I just know she’d make a great ma someday.”
“Thank you, son.”
The boy nodded solemnly, as if he’d just done Eli the greatest of favors.
Dr. Baldwin coughed. And once the boys were gone, Eli turned to look at his old friend. “What?”
“Oh, nothing.”
Eli dipped his hands into the basin on the bureau near the examining table. The ice cold water rushed over the calluses he’d gained during the past year and reminded him of the mountain springs he’d washed in not many months past.
He scrubbed at the blood on his fingers and glanced around at the dark paneled walls of Dr. Baldwin’s office. Was this to be his fate? A tiny office? And the never-ending bumps and bruises of the neighborhood children?
Keen longing flashed through him. What he wouldn’t give for a ceiling of blue skies and four walls of endless mountains. And the beautiful brown eyes of the natives who were still open to the gospel and untouched by the hate of the whites.
“You might want to take the boy up on his advice,” Dr. Baldwin said.
Eli took a deep breath of the stuffy, tobacco-spiced air. What he wouldn’t give for just a whiff of the fresh, wind-tossed air of the prairies.
“She’s one of the best young women I know,” Dr. Baldwin continued.
“Who?”
“The teacher.”
Eli’s stomach pinched. “I just don’t want a wife.”
“Eli, now, we’ve been over this before, and you know as well as I do that most of the single missionaries we’ve sent out have ended up fornicating with the native women or marrying among them.”
He nodded. He couldn’t fault the Board’s logic. After many long months traveling with the fur trappers, he’d seen enough abuse of the native women to realize the depths to which a man could sink when he was lonely.
He shook the water off his hands and reached for the towel. But still, the Board could have given him the benefit of the doubt, especially after all the work he’d already put into planning for the mission.
Frustration contracted the muscles in his chest.
He wiped his hands and tossed the towel onto the table. He knew it would do him no good to argue about the matter any further. The American Board of Missions had made their decision. He must find a wife or he couldn’t go.
The trouble was, he only had four weeks left before he needed to be in Pittsburgh, where he’d arranged to meet the missionary couple that would be joining him.
“You want some help finding a wife?” Dr. Baldwin peered at him through narrowed eyes. “Or are you going to let a little pride stand in the way of your plans?”
Eli read the kindness in the depths of the man’s gaze. “Apparently you’ve got the perfect woman picked out for me.”
He shrugged. “Of course no one is perfect. Not even you.”
Eli stared at the doctor, then finally sighed. “All right. Take me to meet this teacher.”
“I’m headed to her house right now.” Dr. Baldwin sat forward in his chair. “Why don’t you come with me?”
“It had better not be Miss White.”
“And what exactly is wrong with Priscilla White?”
With a growl, Eli reached for his leather roll-up surgical case. “Come on, Doctor. If I have to take a wife, I want a strong one. Not a woman who’ll blow away like tumbleweed at the first hard gust.” He wiped the blood from the scissors and stuffed them into the case. “I won’t take a woman like her—not after what happened to Dr. Newell.”
“Priscilla White is a hard worker.” Dr. Baldwin tapped his pipe in the ashtray on the side table. “There’s no other young woman who works the way Miss White does. Every time the church opens its door for a prayer meeting or a revival, she’s the first there, helping however she can.”
“Then let her stay here and do her part for missions on the home front.” Eli stuffed the silk thread into his surgical case and folded it together.
Dr. Baldwin pushed himself out of his chair. “Eli Ernest, you’re exasperating me.”
He grinned. “I’ve been told that’s one of my best qualities.”
“You mean worst.”
“That too.”
Dr. Baldwin finally smiled. “Let’s go, then. We’ll speak to Priscilla together. The two of you can get married. And you’ll both be able to fulfill your callings.”
Eli stared at his friend and wished it were that easy. Even if she’d been the right type of woman to handle the rigors of missionary life, it was obvious they were worlds apart. “Her mother already turned up her nose at me. And now you expect that woman to agree to let her precious daughter marry me once she finds out I’ve got nothing but the hard-earned shirt on my back?”
“She’ll come around.”
Eli could only imagine the humiliation he’d have to suffer first. “No thanks.”
“I guarantee it.”
Something in the doctor’s tone stopped Eli.
Dr. Baldwin lowered his voice. “Priscilla White had a severe case of mumps a few years ago.”
Suddenly Eli knew what the older doctor was telling him, even before the words were out.
“She lost her monthly courses, and she’s been infertile ever since.” Dr. Baldwin’s brows drooped. “I’ve done everything I can for the poor girl. But the fact of the matter is, she very likely can’t—won’t—ever be able to have children.”
Eli stared at his friend, surprised at the weight that pressed on his chest.
“I’m telling you with the understanding you’ll keep this confidential, one doctor to another.”
“’Course I will.”
“No one in this community knows except me. And they want to keep it that way. They don’t want the disgrace of their oldest daughter becoming known as the barren wife of the community or the town’s old spinster.”
Eli shook his head. “There’s no disgrace in not being able to have children—”
“You know as well as I do the stigma that follows women who can’t conceive.” Dr. Baldwin pinned him with a sharp glance.
“So she’s using mission work as an escape from embarrassment?”
“See? There you go.” The older doctor pursed his lips. “Exasperating me again.”
“Doesn’t seem like the right motivation for getting involved in missions.”
“Priscilla has always had an interest in missions. Her family has encouraged her. And when she learned of her infertility, it served to strengthen her resolve toward the high calling already placed upon her heart.”
“Priscilla White might have good intentions,” Eli said, “but she’d never last a day on the trip west.”
Dr. Baldwin heaved a rattling sigh. “I take it that means no, you won’t marry her?”
Eli hesitated. He didn’t want to ruin his chances of going west, but he wasn’t so desperate that he’d willingly marry the wrong woman.
“Dr. Baldwin, I’m sorry to let you down. . . . I’m not partial to sending wives back in coffins. So I’ll just keep praying the Almighty finds me a better option . . . and soon.”
“You must go back to the Board and convince them of their mistake.”
Priscilla cringed at her mother’s demand.
“They won’t be swayed.” Dr. Baldwin squirmed in his high-backed chair by the parlor door.
“I’ll go with you.” Mother paced in front of the wide fireplace. The high flames crackled but couldn’t bring warmth to Priscilla’s fingers. “And Priscilla will come too.”
“Now, Mrs. White, that’s enough.” Her father rubbed his mustache, circling his fingers around his chin.
> “We’ll leave on the morrow.” Mother didn’t bother to look at Father. “Once they see Priscilla and hear from her, they won’t be able to say no.”
“Mrs. White, I said that’s enough.” Father’s voice boomed. Even though the room had bright green molding and vibrant gold wallpaper with pink florets, the shadows were dismal in the late winter afternoon. “Sit down and listen to what the man is saying. For once.”
Priscilla plucked at the braided trim of the settee and wished she were still small enough to crawl underneath and hide.
Mother glared at Father. “Mr. White, am I to understand that you don’t care what becomes of our daughter?”
“Listen to the doctor. He’s told you a hundred times now that the Board won’t change their decision.”
“Judge White is right.” Dr. Baldwin pulled at the top button of his double-breasted waistcoat. “Everyone has agreed she’s an ideal candidate. And they’ll willingly send her anywhere. But . . . she must get married first.”
Priscilla clutched her hands in her lap. “Doctor, that’s precisely the problem—”
“I have in mind a missionary who is in desperate need of a wife. If you marry him, you’ll both get what you want. It’s the perfect situation.”
Mother stopped pacing. “Who?”
“He’s an adventurous, hardworking, resourceful fellow. If I were going to the mission field, I’d want a man just like him by my side.”
“And just who is this fellow?” Mother asked, her brow disappearing into her hairline.
Dr. Baldwin cleared his throat. “Dr. Eli Ernest.”
“Absolutely not!” Priscilla’s rejection came just as quickly as Mother’s. “We’re headed to opposite ends of the earth.”
“My daughter will never marry a man like that,” Mother said. “It’s obvious he is of the lowest rank and would be unsuitable for her.”
“There you go putting on airs again.” Father rolled his eyes. “You’re not the Queen of England. Your father was a chair maker. And I was only a carpenter when we got married.”
Priscilla had only a vague memory of the log cabin she’d lived in as a little girl when Allegany County had been considered New York’s western frontier. Father hadn’t had anything but his enterprising spirit. He’d staked out a claim of eighty acres. Over the years, he’d steadily acquired more land and wealth until he’d moved the family to a fine wood-framed house, only a half mile from the center of town, in the better part of Angelica.
Father continued. “I’m sure the doctor is about as decent a man as our daughter can find.”
“He studied at the College of Physicians and Surgeons in New York, which is where I met him,” Dr. Baldwin added. “He got a real degree.”
“See, Mrs. White. That’s more book learning than I ever got.” Father smoothed a hand over his bulging stomach. His title of judge had come only after the townspeople had elected him to various local offices, certainly not because he’d earned a law degree.
Mother only shook her head. “If we are going to consider marriage for Priscilla, then we need to find a man devoted to the ministry.”
“But I’m not considering—”
“I said if.” Mother shot her a censuring glare.
Dr. Baldwin studied Mother. “Very well, Mrs. White. I understand the prestige associated with the ministry. But if you pass up this opportunity for Priscilla to marry Dr. Ernest, you will miss even greater prestige.”
“How so?”
Dr. Baldwin stood and situated his black top hat onto his head. “I think the woman Dr. Ernest marries will easily become the most famous American woman of this generation.”
Mother straightened. “Famous? What do you mean?”
Father snorted. “You got her attention now, Doctor.”
“The woman who travels to the far West with Dr. Ernest will be the first white woman ever to make the overland trip to Oregon Country and cross the Continental Divide. I have no doubt the eyes of every single person in this country will be watching her with great interest.”
A light fanned to life in Mother’s eyes—a light that made Priscilla’s heart thud with despair.
Dr. Baldwin sidled around his chair and exited into the front hallway. “It’s too bad you aren’t willing to consider him,” he called. He appeared back in the doorway, having retrieved his greatcoat from the coat stand.
“Now, wait a minute, Dr. Baldwin.” Mother stepped after him. “You’ve misunderstood me. He may not be the ideal candidate for marriage, but we are still willing to consider him.”
Priscilla jumped from the settee. She couldn’t sit back and listen to any more. “Dr. Baldwin, I’m sorry. But I can’t possibly consider going to Oregon Country with Dr. Ernest. It’s out of the question. I’m going to India.”
“I realize you had your heart set on India,” Dr. Baldwin said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “But the far West is in need of teachers too.”
“Even if I agreed to go to the wilderness of Oregon Country—which I won’t—I think everyone is forgetting something very important here.” She took a deep breath to ease the strain in her back. “I can’t get married. I’m unable to . . .”
She couldn’t get the words past the tightness of her throat.
Mother was quiet for a moment. “We don’t need to tell him,” she finally said.
Priscilla gasped. “Mother!” They’d agreed those many years ago on that fateful day that they would never deceive a suitor, that it was their Christian duty to inform a prospective spouse of her condition before marriage.
Once they’d made their decision, they’d also resolved that she would remain single, that it was too risky to share the news with any man. They couldn’t chance his spurning her and then spreading rumors about her and ruining her reputation.
Dr. Baldwin cleared his throat. “You won’t need to tell Dr. Ernest anything.”
Her gaze, like her parents’, swung to the old man.
The sympathy in his eyes reached out to touch her. “You won’t need to tell him, because . . . I already have.”
“You have?” A strange tremor of anticipation rippled through her. “You told him about . . . that I can’t . . . ?”
The doctor nodded.
“And what did he say?”
“Well . . .” He fidgeted with the brim of his hat. “Let’s just say I got the impression your infertility was the least of his concerns.”
“Then he’ll marry our Priscilla, even though he knows of her condition?” The hope in Mother’s voice fanned the anticipation flickering inside Priscilla.
Dr. Baldwin’s brow crinkled.
His hesitation was just enough to snuff out her glimmer of hope. She rubbed her arms, suddenly cold, as if a frigid breeze had blown through the cracks in the big parlor windows.
“He didn’t exactly say he would marry Priscilla,” the doctor said.
This was ridiculous. She refused to marry Dr. Ernest, and she had absolutely no inclination to go west. What kind of ministry could she have there compared to what she’d have in India? She started to shake her head, but Mother’s fingers dug into her shoulder and squeezed her rebuttal to the back of her throat.
“Let’s not be so dramatic about it.” Her mother smiled. “If God has ordained our Priscilla to become one of the first women to cross to the West in her quest to serve Him and save the heathen, then He’ll most certainly protect and provide for her each step of the way.”
Father shook his head. “Doctor, I’m amazed at how quickly and smoothly you convinced this woman to marry off our daughter.”
Dr. Baldwin gave a faint smile, but the light in his eyes wavered.
Priscilla tried not to squirm under her mother’s grip. “He may have convinced Mother. But there’s just one very major problem.”
“Of course there’s no problem,” Mother said quickly.
“Yes, Mother, there is.” She pushed aside that familiar helplessness—as if she were caught in a river current, trying to swim f
or the shore but never quite making it. “The problem is that Dr. Ernest hasn’t agreed to marry me. And I most certainly haven’t agreed to the union either.”
“He’ll be at the prayer meeting tonight, won’t he, Dr. Baldwin?” Mother’s tone was less of a question and more of a command.
“Yes,” the doctor replied, stuffing his arms into his heavy coat. “I’ll do my best to see that he comes.”
Mother bent over and looked Priscilla in the eyes. “Then we’ll dress our Priscilla up and fix her hair becomingly. All she’ll need to do is be her usual charming self.” The sternness in the depths of Mother’s gaze warned her not to disobey.
“No man has ever been able to resist Priscilla,” her mother said. “And I’m sure if she makes a little effort to win Dr. Ernest, he won’t be able to resist her either.”
Chapter
3
Eli had known Priscilla was pretty, but he hadn’t realized she was captivatingly beautiful.
His gaze slid across the meetinghouse to the side where she stood and attempted to converse with the Nez Perce boys, John and Richard. Her shimmering gown unfolded around her like the petals of a rose. The pink matched the bloom in her cheeks, almost as if she had planned it that way.
“Our Miss White certainly is fetching, isn’t she?” Dr. Baldwin patted Eli on the back.
Elaborate golden ringlets framed her face. She’d swept the rest of her hair into a swirl at the back of her head, leaving exposed a long stretch of creamy skin from her ear to her shoulder blade.
“What? Who?” Her bodice, though modest, couldn’t hide her shapely figure, one he guessed was textbook perfect.
“Miss White. She’s a beautiful young woman,” Dr. Baldwin repeated.
Eli dragged his attention away from her, back to Dr. Baldwin and the other gentleman who had stopped him with questions after the closing of the prayer meeting. Eli rubbed a hand across the scruff on his face, hoping to hide his embarrassment at being caught staring at the woman. He’d never made a practice of gawking at women and had always told himself that inner beauty mattered much more than outer.
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