Stone Dreaming Woman (15 page)

Another of the ubiquitous little railroad stoves kept the anteroom warm. Shane helped her take off Mavis’s fox jacket and hung it on the hall tree. She folded the fascinator and laid it on the seat, along with two of the three sweaters. As he was unbuttoning his own parka, they heard Angus MacBride’s voice down the hall.

“I’ll be there directly,” he called.

“It’s me. This is a social call,” Shane responded.

“Well, then, you can indulge an old man and come back to my study. So why have you so graciously condescended to come calling on such a fine day?” The gravelly, disembodied voice carried a rough undertone of sarcasm.

“Careful, Angus. There’s a lady with me.” He directed Jenny past the stairs and down the short right-hand hallway that led to the doctor’s study.

At first she was almost afraid to raise her eyes. The big room looked like the den of a mad scientist straight from the pages of Mary Shelly. To the right stood a fireplace flanked by two windows. Solid bookcases covered the rest of the walls. In one corner the doctor had placed a round table with a binocular microscope and a globe of the world on it; in the other hung a fully articulated human skeleton. The small pelvis and the large nuchal crest marked it male. Finally she looked at the good doctor himself. He stood behind a large walnut desk full of papers, books, and other oddments.

“Well, Miss Weston! Welcome to my lair. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” She gave him her best cane-syrup Brisbane smile. From church she remembered the large, broad-shouldered man with thinning white hair and blue eyes that regarded the world levelly. Right now they calmly studied her over a pair of Ben Franklin reading glasses. Mutely she handed over a small leather case roughly the size of a wallet. He raised his eyebrows.

“Go ahead. Look at what’s inside,” she prompted. It contained miniatures of both her diplomas and her licenses to practice medicine in Virginia and New York.

“Sit down, won’t you please?” he offered, ignoring the case for the moment. Shane seated her in a large maroon leather wing chair and took another for himself. Angus’s face remained neutral as he perused each document in turn. “My, my, my! Summa cum laude, too! What an achievement, Doctor Weston. You’ve every right to be proud of yourself. I won’t say it doesn’t surprise me, though, since Richard never said a word about it.”

“Thank you, Doctor MacBride. And I asked my uncle not to tell anyone. I didn’t want to come here and be regarded as some sort of sideshow freak.”

“So, before I ring for Madame Dubois to bring tea for us, may I inquire as to the purpose of your visit?”

“My immediate purpose? Yesterday I answered an emergency up at North Village. Traumatic amputation. A boy stepped in a leg-hold trap. I gave him a stump that will bear his weight as soon as he has a good prosthesis, but I’m out of supplies. I need to borrow some dressing and bandage material and a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, and I need to know what supply house you order from.”

“Easily done.” Angus summoned his housekeeper and asked her to bring them tea. She whisked off into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a tray. Graciously Angus poured for them. Jenny declined sugar and took her cup delicately, while the ornate Vienna Regulator on the wall rained a painful shower of seconds on the room.

“Thank you for the tea. It’s certainly welcome on such a cold morning.”

“You’re more than welcome. But it looks like there’s something more behind your visit today.”

“In a way, perhaps. You see, I’ve been looking for a post for quite a while, but no hospital wants a woman doctor, and I couldn’t find a practice to buy into. That’s why I came to visit Uncle Richard—to rest and regroup, if you will.”

“Had you thought of practicing here?”

“Not really, until last night, that is. Shane has told me you’re spread rather thin. Have you ever given a thought to an associate?”

“Many times, Doctor Weston. I’m sixty-eight and I have osteoarthritis in both hips. I can’t ride anymore, and there are places where a buggy simply won’t go. North Village is one of them. And I’ll have to admit I’ve seldom seen credentials as stellar as yours.” He paused to sip his tea; his ancient moustache cup amused Jenny to no end. She tensed, knowing what was coming.

“And the fact that I’m a woman?” She nearly held her breath in anticipation of his answer. She felt like a turtle that had stuck its neck out a very long way.

“So what? You’re probably more intelligent than I am. I only graduated in the middle of my class. Although I daresay I probably devoted rather more time to perfecting the fine art of ale consumption than you did.” He paused for the expected chuckle, but she only smiled politely. “So, are you truly interested in frontier medicine? It’s rough hereabouts, both the country and some of the people.”

“It doesn’t come much rougher than yesterday,” Shane interjected. “She breezed through it like it was a Sunday picnic, while I’ll admit I almost got sick.”

Jenny went to his rescue. “Admittedly, it was rather ugly. A couple inches of the tibia and fibula were degloved, but Sergeant Adair had controlled the bleeding well. After that, it was a textbook transtibial amputation. It’s medicine, with a capital M, Doctor MacBride. It’s what I was meant for.”

He nodded. “I know just how you feel, lass. And let’s be on a first-name basis or we’ll be doctoring each other to death.” His white moustache stirred as he smiled. “Would you like to try practicing with me for a few months and you can see how you like it? I’ll warn you, you get all the house calls outside of Elk Gap, especially North Village, because I can’t make that trip any longer. But can you handle the language problem with those Indians?”

“I speak French, Doctor…ah…Angus. I can get by even if Shane can’t be there to translate for me.”

“And either Paul or I will escort her until she’s familiar with the country,” Shane volunteered.

“But will your patients accept me?”

Angus gave a snort. “They’ll have no choice. Oh, there may be a few holdouts at first, but I’ll sort them out in short order.” She felt like hanging onto her breastbone to keep her heart in place. She was actually going to practice medicine, the very thing she had longed for since she was old enough to understand what medicine meant to her father. She would be able to help people, to alleviate pain and cure illness, to see babies born, to ease passing, to dedicate her life to life itself! She wanted to jump up, run out in the street, and shout it to the rooftops. At the very least she wanted to hug someone. However, behind his huge desk Angus MacBride was not a candidate, and even as unconventional as she could sometimes be, she did not want to hug Shane in front of anyone else just yet. Instead she sat there, holding her teacup in shaking hands, smiling until her face hurt.

“I told her I’d help her with a work visa and with the boards here. I think she has a year or until the expiration of the later of her United States licenses, but I’d have to check,” Shane informed them.

“Well, then, Jenny, welcome to my practice.” Doctor MacBride stood up, leaned over, and held out his hand. She met it firmly, a whole galaxy of stars materializing in her eyes. “Now come back to the clinic and let’s get you some supplies. The first of my patients is due in a few minutes.” As if on cue, the front door opened, and when they came past the waiting room, a very pregnant thirtyish woman was taking off her wrap.

“Ah! Mrs. Mattson! You’re just in time to meet my new associate. Doctor Weston, this is Mrs. Edith Mattson. Mrs. Mattson, Doctor Jennifer Weston. She is going to join my practice for a while and see if Elk Gap agrees with her.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Mattson,” Jenny said very properly.

“My pleasure entirely, Doctor Weston. Welcome to Elk Gap. I do hope you decide to stay.”

“Thank you. So far it seems like a cordial place.”

“Well, Mrs. Mattson, if you want to go to the first examination room on the right, Doctor Weston and I have a little business, and then I’ll be right in.” Angus took them to the supply pantry at the end of the hall. As he was doling out the supplies Jenny needed, he kept up a running medical history of the patient. “Edith and her husband Roy have a farm northwest of town. In fact, their land almost abuts your uncle’s place. There’s only one other farm in between. They do pretty well, cattle and the like. She’s due about the first of May. I make it a girl by the fetal heart rate, but you know how often you can go wrong on that score. Twenty-eight years old, gravida four, para three. Two boys and a girl, all surviving. All her pregnancies have been uneventful and the deliveries unremarkable. I don’t anticipate anything else this time, except she’s probably going to deliver very quickly. It may even be precipitous, so if you get a call, don’t dawdle. Last time it was less than three hours from the onset of labor. The Good Lord put that lady on earth to be a mother. There. That’s everything you ought to need. Come back if it’s not enough. And don’t bother with ordering supplies yourself. I’m sending off tomorrow, and I’ll include a little extra of everything I routinely use. Then we can discuss it later. But is there anything specific you’d like me to order for you?”

“No. Not really. I may run low on suture silk, but I’m not there yet.”

“All right, then. Shall I see you Monday morning?”

“Bright and early!” she agreed with a sunny smile.

As Shane stowed her supplies in his saddlebags, he looked as happy as she felt. She relieved him of guilt about not helping her to the saddle when she led Fleur around to a raised corner of the board sidewalk and used it as a mounting block. Then they rode side by side out of town. Shane was beaming.

“I swear, you’re happier than I am,” she observed.

He looked at her. “It means you’re staying, at least for a while. And I intend to take every opportunity to persuade you to make it permanent.” It was on the tip of her tongue to make some remark about flattery, but she realized he was completely sincere.

Chapter Nine

A few days later, a quiet snow was falling when Shane, looking like a ghost with the snow on his parka, came through the gloom. He handed Midnight off to Toby, then jumped up and down on the porch to shake the snow from his furs. Mavis opened the door before he had a chance to knock.

“Mail,” he caroled, his voice chipper.

“Hello, Shane,” Jenny replied, laying her dust rag aside and coming out of the parlor.

“I have Richard’s mail. And I’ve brought you something. But wait a minute.” He set a few letters and a package down, hung up his parka, hat, and gun belt, then stuffed his gauntlets down one sleeve of the parka.

“Tea?” Mavis asked, handing him the Blue Willow mug.

“Thank you, yes. I needn’t say it’s cold out there.” He set the mug on the table and untied the string around the blanket-wrapped bundle. “All right, Jenny. Close your eyes.” She obeyed, screwing up her face appealingly. He set the blanket aside and shook out a parka much like his own, save that the fur was a sleek silvery brown and the lining was white. Similar bands of beadwork decorated it, but instead of swirly geometric patterns Jenny’s bore depictions of wild roses. “All right. You can look now.”

Jenny’s screech of surprise made him wince. “Oh, Shane! That’s beautiful! It’s incredible!” Her voice dropped to a whisper with shock. She reached out and touched the sleek fur. “What’s it made of?”

“River otter,” he replied. “Better than mine, even. It’s virtually waterproof. And the lining is winter-trapped marten fur. They turn brown in summer. Here. Try it on. I told them you and Helen Richardson are about the same size, so they measured it on her.”

“Good. Now I can have my jacket back,” Mavis said dryly. He held the parka out, and Jenny slipped it on. It came properly a fraction below her hips and the sleeves were just the right length.

“Oh, look! It couldn’t fit better. I have to go look in the mirror!” She flew upstairs, with Shane close behind her. He showed her how to fasten the double-buttoned storm closure, and she stood before the cheval glass, admiring the beautiful parka. She examined the beadwork, stroked the satiny fur of the left sleeve, and even went so far as to take up her hand mirror and pirouette carefully to look at the back. Then she turned to him.

“Shane, thank you so much. This is a…a work of art. It’s almost too beautiful to wear.”

“Don’t thank me. The North Village women made it for you, to thank you for saving Jimmy Richardson’s life.” She turned slowly before the mirror. Then reluctantly she took off the parka and hung it in her armoire.

“But I do need to thank you. You did help me, after all. And I love the parka.”

“I’m glad. Even though it’s snowing a little, it’s not all that bad outside if you’re dressed for it. Perhaps you’d like to ride with me and try it out?”

“I was beginning to think you’d never ask. Go downstairs and drink your tea while I change my clothes.” Gently she shooed him out of her bedroom and reached into the armoire for her riding skirt. Then, mischievously, she put it back and took out her daringly snug jodhpurs, which she much preferred.

After Shane escorted her home, she examined her mail. One letter bore the return address of her cousin Elizabeth in Arlington. The second came from the prosthetist detailing the measurements he needed and instructions on how to make a cast of Jimmy’s stump. She took the reply upstairs and slid it into her medical bag, then decided to answer Elizabeth’s letter while she had time. As she was sitting at the kitchen table with pen and paper, the telephone rang. It was such an uncommon occurrence that she flinched and scribbled on the page. With a disgusted sigh she capped her fountain pen and set it down, then rose to pick up the earpiece of the telephone.

“Richard Weston’s residence. Jenny Weston speaking.”

“Jenny?”

“Shane! What…”

“When I came in, there was a message for me from Superintendent Shepherd. They want me in River Bend tomorrow, so I’ll be leaving on the 5:30 train. You know what that means.” She could hear the worry in his voice. However, long ago she had learned that the telephone was not always completely private. She had to speak in code.