“Gut,” he grunted. Another paroxysm convulsed him.
Letty tried to form a picture of the man’s symptoms. “The pain comes in spasms, right?”
He nodded.
She turned to her bag and opened the top. Withdrawing a vial with a dropping tube in its top, she asked, “Does it feel as if someone’s wringing your insides?”
He gave another jerky assent.
“Has it happened before?”
“Not this bad.”
“What did you eat last night?”
Her patient described a meal that counted bacon, eggs, biscuits with butter, and a cream-pudding pie—very rich fare. “Colocynthis, for digestive distress with cramping, is the best remedy for you,” she murmured. “Help me, please. I need you to hold your head still while I place the remedy under your tongue. You should feel better after your body absorbs it.”
Despite his pain, the man fought to hold still. When he opened his mouth and moved his tongue aside, Letty counted out the medicated drops and prayed for swift relief.
She looked around for a familiar face but found none. “Can someone take him home? In a buggy?”
“Yes, ma’am,” answered the youth who’d fetched her. “I brought Pa’s cart today for supplies. I’ll take Harry.”
“Thank you. Although Colocynthis works fast on troubled gallbladders, he’ll be exhausted from the pain. He needs rest.” She turned to Harry. “Only simple, soft foods now. Nothing heavy or highly seasoned, either, and you’ll have to take to bed for the remainder of the day.”
The workman nodded. Then another cramp hit, and he gritted his teeth. When it passed, he conceded, “That one weren’t so bad. Thank you, ma’am.”
Letty stood and shook bits of dirt from her skirt. She turned to the youth who’d fetched her. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll give you more pellets for him to take later on. I’m sure he’ll feel better by the time you get back here, and then you can take him home.”
With the young man at her side, Letty walked home. A chorus of admiring comments followed, and a satisfied smile curved her lips.
Still puzzling over the Swartleys’ possible backers, Eric strode down Main Street toward the livery. Surely not someone local, was it? If so, who stood to gain? Hart had all he could manage with his mine, yet Eric knew the Swartleys had ordered mining gear—costly indeed.
They’d made their intentions clear, as clear as the cost of the proposition. Then there was the money they paid busted claim holders. True, each sum was negligible, but when he studied the entire picture, he saw a pattern of greed and wealth. Greed the Swartleys had; wealth, they lacked. So who had it?
“Eric! Eric Wagner. You wait right there, young man.”
Setting aside his concerns over the Swartleys, Eric turned toward the summons. Despite a generous girth, Dr. Mortimer Henry Medford stomped toward him, his cow-handled cane rapping furiously.
Each time Eric saw the walking stick, he had to fight a chuckle. The successful surgeon spent his time away from medicine seeking new ways to pamper himself. The cane, absurd though it was, had cost a small fortune, for the cow head was of African ivory and the stick of Oriental teak.
Dr. Medford nearly bowled Eric over. “You simply must do something, Eric Wagner. It’s all your fault.”
The fury in the doctor’s puffy red features took him aback. Calling on his interviewing experience, he corralled his irritation. “Since I have no idea what you say I’ve done, I need you to tell me what you’ve taken exception to.”
Dr. Medford wagged the stick at Eric. “Why, that woman, of course. Who does she think she is?”
“If you would name her,” he said, even though his knotted innards told him who’d angered the surgeon, “then perhaps I could tell you who she thinks she is.”
“That accursed Dr. Morgan is who. And you’re the one who set her loose on Hartville. Why, now she’s stealing my patients.”
What had Letty done? Dreading the answer, Eric spoke again. “If you’d start at the beginning, perhaps I’d understand.”
Another shake of the cane threatened Eric’s hat. He backed away.
“She’s taken to treating men,” the fleshy gent said. “It was bad enough you brought a woman doctor to town, and an archaic homeopath at that, but you insisted she’d treat women and children. Mostly, she’d deliver babies, you said. Now, the creature is dosing workmen. For free!”
Dr. Medford raised his arms as if to emphasize his outrage at Letty’s dastardly behavior. Eric fought the urge to laugh.
The beefy sawbones went on. “We will not tolerate such a thing. You caused it, you handle it, young man. Or you’ll force the men of Hartville to take action.”
The surgeon stormed away.
How was Eric going to handle this development? He had yet to get Letty to look out for herself, and each time he’d tried to take care of her, to protect her, she’d invoked her adulthood. Well, he was an adult, too, and she was facing disaster. Somehow he had to stop her before she did herself permanent harm.
Across the country, physicians who opposed the simple methods and modest cost of homeopathic care had banded together and formed the American Medical Association. The rivalry was fierce, and Eric knew of cases in which homeopaths had been run out of town. With her staunch convictions, Letty had already incurred Dr. Medford’s wrath.
“Evening, Mr. Wagner.” The schoolmarm’s pruned-up face boded ill.
Eric answered warily. “Evening, Miss Whitehall.”
“I must say, sir, that’s a fine sort of doctor you brought us. Why, she’s mighty cozy with those . . . those floozies from Bessie Brown’s horrid place. Twice, sir, twice, I’ve seen painted women leave her house. To think I wasted time to welcome one of her sort to town.”
Eric clenched his jaw. A vicious gossip, Emmaline wouldn’t stop until she’d made Letty miserable, especially with the fuel she had.
He retorted, “A medical emergency, I’m sure.”
Emmaline’s nose rose higher in the air, her stiff lace collar tight around her skinny neck. “Humph! If that is so, then the tart deserved it. The wages of sin, you know.”
Her self-righteousness was as repulsive as the women she’d condemned. Eric’s annoyance with Emmaline grew. “Anyone who needs doctoring ought to seek a physician.”
Emmaline pursed her lips. “The physician needn’t treat just anyone,” she argued. “Our upstanding surgeon doesn’t treat strumpets. Why should our lady doctor do so?”
Precisely my contention, he almost said, but he caught himself before betraying Letty. “Perhaps an overly developed sense of duty is at the root of what you saw.”
The schoolmarm clutched her black handbag tighter and tapped her umbrella on the sidewalk. “Maybe, maybe not. Still, it hardly suits.”
Eric couldn’t stand to hear more. “Good day, Miss Whitehall.” He then changed direction and set off after the indomitable Dr. Morgan.
The thought of Letty losing her patients, bearing the anger of the menfolk, or becoming the subject of Medford’s greed was more than Eric could stomach. Fear filled him, manifesting itself as rage.
Letty answered his knock immediately. Without waiting for an invitation, he marched past her. “Tell me, won’t you, what you’re trying to do,” he demanded. “I’ve warned you and warned you, and you’ve ignored me each time. Well, as I expected, the situation has worsened. I can’t even walk to the livery for my mares without folks running to me with complaints about the confounded woman doctor.
“I told you to avoid the prostitutes. No one in their right mind wants their womenfolk treated by the same physician who treats strumpets. Who knows what you might pick up from them and pass on to your other patients.”
Anger flashed silver in Letty’s eyes, but he was determined to have his say. If she persisted, it would be in total defiance of his directive. “Vice destroys innocent people. You will not treat those women again. You can’t afford to do so. The rest of the town’s women and children need you. H
ave I made myself clear?”
Eyes flashing, lips tight, cheeks red with wrath, Letty glared back. “How dare you tell me what I can and can’t do, Eric Wagner! You have no right to interfere with my work.”
A blade of pain sliced through him. Her words reminded him how much he wished he had the right to make his opinion count for her.
“I’m an adult,” she added, slamming both fists on her hips.
“True, but are you a wise one?”
She tipped up her chin. “Depends on whose wisdom you prefer.”
“What do you mean?
She paused and closed her eyes. “I mean,” she said, “I prefer God’s wisdom to that of men.”
Eric shook his head. “You can’t count on God. I did, and see what He left me? Two graves. Yes, He’s out there somewhere in heaven, but He doesn’t listen to regular folks like you and me.”
The tear that slid down her cheek bewildered him.
“Oh, Eric,” she murmured, a look of compassion on her face. “I’m so sorry you feel that way. God listens—always—but only answers in His way and in His time, not necessarily ours. I’ll pray for Him to show you that He has reasons for acting as well as for not doing a thing. We may never fully understand it, but His remains the wisdom that passes all understanding.”
“His wisdom has certainly passed my understanding. I’ll never understand why He didn’t keep me from failing Martina and our son.”
11
Although the sun shone through Letty’s window the next morning, she saw only the clouds cast by Eric’s rejection of God.
After he’d left, she’d closed her front door and fed the chickens. Unable to muster an appetite, she’d gone to her room and cried herself to sleep. Her damp pillow now bore testimony to a night of heartache.
What should she do? As she looked around the pink and white room, she knew discouragement for the first time in a long time.
She sat up, gathered her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her legs. She felt more alone than she had the night of Mrs. Forrest’s wake, but she could no more betray her convictions than she could stop loving Eric.
The Father had called her to serve, and serve she would.
Why did Eric so oppose her efforts to help Daisy and Mim? She’d made herself clear, and even though her interest in the Pattersons irritated him, Eric hadn’t erupted like last night’s volcano when she’d helped them.
How could she love a man who wouldn’t understand her? One who discounted God and His calling on her life? How could she yearn for someone who wanted to cage her with his expectations? She loved Eric, but she couldn’t capitulate to his demands. To do so, she’d have to turn her back on the Lord. Letty simply couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that.
She was a physician. She’d sacrificed much to become one, and no one, not even the man she loved, was going to stop her from using her God-given gift. As a healer, she would continue to treat those who ailed, those who needed her.
She got dressed, then took care of the mundane morning chores. She ate, and as she washed the oatmeal off the bowl, she made a mental list of patients she’d visit today. Before she’d finished counting them all, Daisy burst into the kitchen.
“Morning, Doc. Can I practice typewriting for a spell?”
Satisfaction warmed Letty’s heart. She couldn’t give up on this girl. Thank you, Lord. I know there’s much to do, but with your help, I can do this, too. In spite of Eric.
She hugged Daisy. “Why, certainly, dear. I was just lamenting the prospects for a dull morning. Your visit is the remedy this doctor needs.”
Was his weakness around lovely women congenital? Eric couldn’t otherwise explain his actions of the past few weeks. How could he have felt such rage? How could he have vented it on Letty? How could he have kissed her yet again?
He didn’t know how he’d face her. He’d lost all semblance of control of his temper and his desire.
She welcomed your kisses, his weak side taunted.
Still, she was an innocent. He, on the other hand, knew where his actions could lead. A man with a past like his knew better than to love a woman like Letty. He would keep her from loving him back.
A woman of principle never shared kisses as intense as theirs unless she loved the man in question. Letty was no trollop. A man could cherish her, knowing she’d never lead him to destruction like the floozies at Bessie’s did. Knowing that Letty loved him made Eric want to run to her side, clasp her in his arms, and never let her go. Reason, however, told him she deserved a better man, a whole man, one without guilt.
He left for the office, barely noting the sunshine. Spring had arrived, but as far as Eric was concerned, winter could just as easily have stayed. He didn’t want to breathe the fragrance of promise each day. He didn’t want to hear birds woo their mates or watch them build their nests. He didn’t want to see new life in flower beds or tree branches. He didn’t dare feel hope in the world around him. He was a failed man, and his heart held only pain.
At the livery, he grunted at Amos. Amos returned a full-bellied laugh. Eric cast a glare at his friend and saw wisdom in his eyes as he left.
He walked faster, but when he neared Silver Creek Church at Willow and Main, his pace began to slow. His heart yearned for the woman who brought sunshine with her. A movement in the winter-nude shrubs around Letty’s home caught Eric’s attention, a flash of marigold and black, unusually bright for this time of year. He tucked his portfolio under his arm and went to investigate.
As he approached, he saw the young blond tart Letty had helped the night of Slosh’s debacle with Bessie Brown. The girl opened Letty’s back door and ran in as if she owned the place.
An oath ripped past his lips. The woman brought sunshine with her, but she also brought more trouble than a dozen women should.
Angry again, he stalked on to his office, determined to put an end to the mess. And the only way to end it was to redouble his efforts to rid Hartville of its more squalid element.
Letty’s progress with Daisy provided her with renewed zest, so the rest of the day flew by. No problems arose. By early afternoon, Randy Carlson was her only patient.
“You look lovely, Mama,” Letty said as her friend walked in.
Randy rolled her eyes. “My skirts are too tight around the waist.”
A pang of yearning struck Letty, and she had to clear her throat. “How do you feel? Any problems?”
Randy sank into the chair in front of Letty’s desk. “Well, no. I came to see you because I’ve heard the oddest rumors, and I wanted to discuss them with you.” Her green eyes dodged Letty’s gaze. “Emma—”
“Emma—”
The women exchanged awkward smiles. Letty tried again. “To be fair, the bare facts are as Emmaline must be painting them. I have indeed taken two of the girls from Bessie’s place under my wing.”
Randy gasped, her eyes wide as the sky.
“I hope I don’t offend you,” Letty continued, “but I must speak frankly. Those two girls—for that’s all they are—were beaten by patrons of Bessie’s Barn. I couldn’t in good conscience let them go untreated. I came to Hartville to treat women and children in particular. Daisy and Mim are, unfortunately, both.”
Randy blanched.
“You should also know,” Letty added, “that Pastor and Mrs. Stone took Mim home with them. I’ve been treating her injuries, and she’s on the mend now. She’s only thirteen years old. Could you turn your back on a misused child?”
“Thirteen?”
“Thirteen.”
“Obscene.”
“Indeed. So are you asking me to reject them?”
“No . . . I can’t say I am.” Randy paused. “How can I help you? Them?”
“Do you know what you’re asking?”
Randy paused again. “Yes.”
“Douglas won’t be pleased,” Letty warned.
“Just let him try to stop me,” Randy said, narrowing her eyes. “Think of the self-righteous men who have wa
rned their wives to stay away from you since Emmaline began spreading rumors. Many of them use the girls.”
“That hasn’t escaped me. If they had no patrons, the girls would find other means of support. The men perpetuate the problem.”
Randy tapped her shoe against the floor, mulling over Letty’s words. “I guess,” she said, “but one can also argue that if the women weren’t there, the men wouldn’t be tempted. Does that make sense?”
Letty took a deep breath. “The Lord did promise He would never let us be tempted beyond our defenses. Rejecting the women and chasing them from town isn’t the answer. Jesus never shunned prostitutes or other sinners. He came to save them. If we’re to follow His example, then we must help them, too.”
Randy had the grace to blush. “You’re right. What do we do next?”
Glad to disembark from the same carousel of contention she’d already ridden with Eric, Letty said, “We probably should discuss this with Pastor and Mrs. Stone sometime soon. After all, they have Mim.”
“That’s an excellent idea. Since I’m anxious to help, I hope you’ll let me go with you.”
The women headed for the door, each with separate business to attend to, but both thinking of cast-off youngsters. The conversation had reminded Letty of her argument with Eric, and she decided to meet him on his own territory. Certain matters needed clarification, and she feared her cozy home might permit a recurrence of anger or passion.
“Let me come partway with you,” she told Randy. “I need to stop by the newspaper.” As soon as she spoke, Letty recognized her mistake.
Randy grinned mischievously. “You want to see Eric? Anything interesting to discuss?”
Letty fastened the black frog tie at the collar of her gray cape and gave Randy a reproving glare. “Certainly. I need to discuss the girls with Mr. Wagner.”
“Oh.”
Letty almost laughed at her friend’s deflated expression. Were it not for the pain of last night’s argument, she might have told Randy of her feelings for Eric. He had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t ready to love again. Letty had nothing to tell.
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