Cherry Ames 22 Rural Nurse (15 page)

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old farmhouse and how it had vanished, seemingly into the wall. Could there be a hidden room in the old farmhouse?

And the blockaded cave! The cave had seemed to hold a passageway, blocked by a pile of dirt.
Was
there a passageway or secret route? Did it, by any chance, lead from the cave to the nearby old farmhouse? If so, to where in the farmhouse?

Cherry wanted to go fi rst thing tomorrow to the old farm and explore. But with the two strangers from St. Louis in the vicinity, would that be too dangerous?

She asked her aunt to wait a few minutes on Dr. Clark’s porch while she stopped by to tell Dr. Hal what she had learned.

“I’m not sure you’ve really learned anything,” Hal said kindly. “Don’t get your hopes up too high. Local lore might be factual, or it might not.”

“If I could ever get mad at you, Hal Miller, it would be now!” Cherry said.

“Well, I notice your old Mr. Marquette couldn’t show you a map, or name names or locations,” Hal said.

“Hmm. Still—listening to him talk makes the old hiding places awfully real. Hal, do you suppose there’s a secret route near that farm?”

“Cherry! All you have is a hypothesis.”

“My dear Mr. Scientist, do you suppose Floyd and the others are making some special use of the house and cave for their Nature’s Herb Cure racket?”

“It’s possible. I’ll tell you this,” Hal said, “I’d rather not enter the cave or farmhouse again if we can avoid it.” 140
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AMES,

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NURSE

“S-sh!” Cherry said. “Aunt Cora is outside on the porch, and I don’t want her to hear and worry.” Cherry and Hal exchanged good nights, and Cherry went out to her aunt.

“You’re so patient to wait for me,” Cherry said. “You must be half starved by now. I know I am.”

“Well, yes,” Aunt Cora confessed. “Let’s go to Smith’s Restaurant. It’s never too late to go there.” It was growing close to ten p.m., which in a little farming town like Sauk was very late indeed. Most people were in bed by now, because they rose at sunup.

The few blocks to the town’s only restaurant were dark and deserted.

The lunch counter at the front of Smith’s was serving all-night truck drivers. Cherry and her aunt went on into the back dining room, where they sat down in one of the booths. It seemed empty here, as usual.

The waitress came and they gave their order. At fi rst Cherry thought she and Aunt Cora were the only patrons. Then she heard a low murmur of men’s voices. She looked over her shoulder and saw them.

Floyd Barker and the two hard-looking strangers were sitting almost out of sight in the farthest booth. They had their heads together, talking in low, urgent voices.

“Aunt Cora,” Cherry whispered, “don’t call me by name in here.” She slid into the corner of the booth.

“Please! Let’s keep quiet.”

Aunt Cora was astonished, but cooperated. Cherry did not want Floyd and the St. Louis men to see her—

to see that she had observed them together, to realize
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that now she would link the three of them in her fi ght against the fake drug. That would force them into stronger, more devious tactics.

Cherry half rose to go, to hurry out. Or was it safer to sit tight and be inconspicuous?

The waitress came with the fi rst of their food. That settled it. If she and Aunt Cora walked out leaving their food untouched, and the waitress asked questions,
that
would be noticeable.

Cherry, somehow, got through a miserable meal.

Floyd and the two strangers left fi rst. They walked rapidly through the room looking straight ahead, not talking. Had they seen her? Cherry thought they had. She heard a car start out in the street.

“Now can you tell me what’s wrong?” Aunt Cora asked. She looked terribly worried.

Cherry slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry, Aunt Cora.

Not yet. Soon, though—”

That Wednesday night Cherry’s dreams were troubled. She woke up far too early, impatient for a decent hour to telephone Dr. Hal. She told him about the inci-dent in Smith’s Restaurant.

He was as alarmed as she was. “I’ll tell Mr. Short and the sheriff,” he said. “I’ll probably see them before you do, today.”

“Yes, I’m going right out on nursing calls this morning,” Cherry said.

“I’d better tell them, too, about those stories of caves and hiding places that you heard last evening from old Mr. Marquette,” Hal said. “No, on second thought, 142
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I won’t. They’re vague, and anyway, Mr. Steeley is bound to know all the local hearsay.” There was a pause in their conversation. In the face of last night’s ugly development, neither of them knew what to say.

“Well, Cherry,” Hal said, “keep your eyes open on your visits for a sample—just in case Snell tricks us this afternoon.”

“I will. See you late this afternoon. I wish us luck.” Cherry hung up, conscious of her aunt trying not to overhear, but worried all the same.

Cherry paid quick visits to six trustworthy former patients. Every one of them, acting on her and Dr. Hal’s earlier instructions, had thrown away Nature’s Herb Cure. No sample there for Mr. Short to collect. Nor had these persons seen the old pedlar. They thought he must have changed his route.

At noon Dr. Hal notifi ed Cherry at her offi ce that he had driven across the river to Missouri that morning, and talked with the Swaybills’ cousins. Neither they nor their neighbors had kept any of the fake remedy.

They had not seen the old pedlar, either. No other pedlar sold the stuff.

Cherry heard something interesting from one of the other doctors in the county when she called him to report on one of his patients. Dr. Boudineau, who travelled all over the county, said he had not observed ginseng growing anywhere except on the abandoned farm.

And he told her that the pedlar had been seen in Red Oaks two or three days ago. It was a small town in an
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area where, so far, Cherry had no patients. Old Snell had tried to persuade a druggist there to stock and sell Nature’s Herb Cure, and had offered profi table terms.

The druggist would have nothing to do with the plan.

So the pedlar was trying to expand the racket in several new places! He was changing locations in order to evade her and Hal’s public warnings!

Unfortunately, her afternoon’s schedule took her not to individual patients who might have a sample of the stuff, but to one of the county’s rural high schools, in a far corner of the county. Dr. Rand, one of the county’s physicians, had asked her to assist in giving inocula-tions against typhoid.

Cherry assisted with the immunization clinic at the rural high school. Her work took up most of the early afternoon. Afterward, she spent a few more precious minutes talking to the teenage boys and girls.

Many of them belonged to the 4-H Club, sponsored by the United States Department of Agriculture, and told Cherry they hoped to win awards at the fair. The boys were raising fi ne bulls, hogs, colts, and were growing prize corn and vegetables, here in the richest soil in the nation. The girls grew fl owers of all kinds, did fi ne baking, breadmaking, canning, and preserving, and sewed everything from clothing to curtains and quilts.

The girls asked Cherry whether she would head a 4-H Club project for them in health, nursing, and fi rst aid. A good many of the boys wanted to take part in that, too. Cherry was happy to say yes. She left it to them to decide, and notify her, when and where they 144
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AMES,

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would hold their meetings. It was all she could do to break away from these friendly boys and girls.

Cherry left the school building and started back toward Sauk. On the way she stopped at a highway telephone booth and called Jane Fraser. Both Hal and Mr. Short wanted to learn from Jane where Floyd was today.

“Between this party line and that talkative parrot, I’ll have to choose my words carefully,” Cherry thought.

She listened to the operator ringing the Barkers’ number and hoped Floyd would not answer.

Jane’s voice came on. In a kind of double talk, Cherry conveyed her question. All Jane was able to reply guardedly was: “I don’t know for certain. I think our friend went rabbit hunting.”

Rabbit hunting in the woods? Near Snell’s shack?

Cherry said, “I’ll be in touch with you soon again. Right now I have an appointment with a patient.” She wished she could tell Jane that the “patient” was herself.

c h a p t e r x i i

The Old Pedlar Reappears

phoebe grisbee was as good as her word. she had ready several coats and scarfs for Cherry to choose from, and a box of pale face powder to tone down her rosy cheeks. Working together, they managed to make Cherry resemble a wan country cousin. Cherry hid her dark hair under a scarf and added a pair of dark glasses.

Even so, she wasn’t sure the pedlar would not recognize her as the county nurse.

“Talk in a high-pitched voice,” Phoebe Grisbee advised. “Drawl, like the Missourians do.” Cherry tried it and thought she wouldn’t fool a soul.

She’d better say very little. She still didn’t look sick; she made herself slump and droop.

“You look almost as miserable as Henry feels.” Phoebe Grisbee chuckled. “A joke on us, pretending you’re the patient. Hope I drive all right, excited as I am.” 145

146
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AMES,

RURAL

NURSE

They went out to the Grisbee’s garage. Getting into the car, Cherry discovered that Dr. Hal, Mr. Short, and Mr. Steeley, the sheriff, were already on the fl oor in the back of the car. They must have slipped in under cover of gathering dusk. Hal grinned at her; he was so tall, he had to crouch. Sheriff Steeley carried a revolver in a holster. Cherry saw the bump it made under his jacket.

“All right,” said the sheriff, “let’s be on our way. We have the warrant of arrest. Ladies, stay in the car while you talk to the pedlar.
Don’t
go into the shack. If there’s a fi ght, get down on the car seat or fl oor. Is that understood, ladies?”

They said yes. Paul Short had instructed Cherry yesterday what she must say to the pedlar.

Mrs. Grisbee backed the car out of the garage and drove out of Sauk along a back street. Sweat stood out on her round face by the time she drove within sight of the woods. No one in the car spoke. The palms of Cherry’s hands grew clammy. She watched but saw no other cars.

They entered the woods. Mrs. Grisbee evidently had come to the pedlar’s shack before, for she knew the trail to follow. They passed Snell’s ramshackle car, parked in a clearing. When the shack hove into view, Cherry saw that this time it had a light in it.

“Park as close to the shack as you can,” Mr. Steeley muttered from the back of the car. “Leave your head-lights off.”

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147

Cherry was glad of that, and of the half-dark of the forest; the hazy dimness aided her disguise. Mrs. Grisbee parked the car and called out:

“Oh, Snell! Sne-ell! It’s Mrs. Grisbee.” They waited. Was the pedlar suspicious of the girl with her? Cherry heard Phoebe’s heavy breathing. The door of the shack creaked. Old Snell came toward them.

For the fi rst time Cherry had a close look at him.

He was like a fi gure out of an old folk tale, or out of a disturbing dream—odd, uncouth, like no one she had ever seen before. It was no wonder some people cred-ited him with almost magical powers. Except, Cherry thought, that his strangeness was part of a carefully calculated act.

“Hi, Mis’ Grisbee,” he said in a cracked voice. “How’s yer husband today? Feelin’ better after that herb cure I gave ye?”

“Yes, thanks, Snell, he’s better,” Phoebe Grisbee lied.

“Your medicine is good stuff.”

“I told ye ’t’was. I know a thing or two about herbs and nat’ral cures. Who’s that ye got with ye?”

“My cousin, Hettie Grisbee. She’s from Missouri—

Leaderville—on the other side of the river. She came over today to visit me.”

Cherry nodded to the pedlar, not trusting herself to speak yet. He said “Howdy” and stared at her.

“I guess our Iowa air don’t agree with Hettie,” Mrs. Grisbee said. “She’s feeling poorly today.” 148
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AMES,

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NURSE

The old pedlar walked closer to the car, so close to Cherry that she could have reached out and touched his faded garments.

“Got a headache?” he croaked at Cherry. “Stomach bother ye?”

She nodded and said in a high, thin voice, “I feel hot and cold all over and dizzy.”

“Hah! Then I know what’s the matter with ye and what’ll cure ye. If ye don’t object to some old-time doctorin’?” he asked sharply.

“We-ell—” Cherry pretended to hesitate, as the Food and Drug man had coached her. “Cousin Phoebe thinks you can help me.”

“Yes, that’s right!” Mrs. Grisbee picked up the cue.

Her voice was too loud. It rang out in these lonely woods. “I told Hettie I was coming over here to get more of that Nature’s Herb Cure for myself, and maybe it’d help her, too. I thought maybe we’d each buy a jar from you.”

“I—I don’t like to dose myself with a lot of medicines,” Cherry said for the pedlar’s benefi t. She tried to drawl, like a Missourian. “When I go back home to Leaderville tonight, I’ll just sleep off this sick feeling.” The pedlar was not one to miss out on a sale. “Now looky here, Miss Hettie,” he said. “Why’n’t you listen to Mis’ Grisbee and me? I ain’t a quack. Why go on sufferin’ all the way back to Leaderville and all night—

when my Nature’s Herb Cure’ll fi x you up in a jiffy?”

“It’s good, Hettie.” Mrs. Grisbee pretended to urge her. “I can testify to that.”

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149

“Sure it’s good,” Old Snell said. “There ain’t hardly an ache or fever or sickness that this here medicine won’t help. That’s because,” he explained, “only the purest, strongest, nat’ral herbs are in the makin’s. I don’t claim it’ll cure ye if ye’re half dead already with lung trouble or somethin’ dire. No, ma’am, I wouldn’t be honest with ye if I claimed that. But go ask Mis’ Grisbee’s neighbors, and they’ll tell you by the dozens that it got them over a lot of sickness. Without foolin’ around with a doctor and all his newfangled ideas and a big fat bill, neither. These here herbs cured my parents and my grandparents before them, and what
they
taught me’ll cure you, too, Miss Hettie.”