With Autumn's Return (Westward Winds Book #3): A Novel (20 page)

“Is she all right?” From the beginning, Sheila had insisted that her child would be a girl whom she would name Louella.

Elizabeth looked up from the notes she was making in her patient records. “Your baby seems to be healthy,” she told the young mother-to-be, “but I’m concerned that she’s not as big as she should be. Corsets aren’t good for you or your baby. They don’t give her enough room to move.”

Elizabeth had had a long conversation with Charlotte over the subject of corsets when her sister and Barrett had stopped in New York on their way to Massachusetts. When Charlotte had claimed they were essential to give the gowns she created the right lines, Elizabeth had deplored their effect on women’s lungs and ribs. It was true that Elizabeth wore a corset, but she kept it laced far looser than fashion dictated. Sheila’s was cinched as tightly as it could be in an attempt to hide her pregnancy.

“You shouldn’t be wearing a corset at all.” Elizabeth made it a command rather than a suggestion.

Her lower lip trembling, Sheila shook her head. “Phoebe won’t let me loosen them. She says men won’t have nothin’ to do with a girl who’s in the family way.”

Trying to keep her expression impassive, Elizabeth slid her patient notes into an envelope. “I thought you were working in the kitchen.”

“Not yet.” Sheila touched her midsection. Though her pregnancy was obvious when she wore no corset, the whalebone-stiffened garment would hide it for another month or two, perhaps longer if she continued the tight lacing.

“I’ll see what I can do about that.” Descending the stairs, Elizabeth rapped on the door to Phoebe’s suite, entering only when the older woman called to her. Suspecting that Phoebe might be more receptive to her concerns if she accepted the offer of coffee, Elizabeth waited until Phoebe had placed a cup and saucer in front of her before she introduced the subject of Sheila.

“It’s time for her to stop entertaining men,” Elizabeth said, nodding her appreciation of the well-brewed beverage.

“I can’t do that.” Phoebe smiled as if they were discussing nothing more serious than the weather. “Sheila’s one of my best. Men like that dark Irish coloring and her lilt. They call her the Irish rose. Saturday nights, they line up for her.”

Trying to block the images Phoebe’s words conjured, Elizabeth said, “I understand your reasons, but if she continues, she may lose her baby.”

Phoebe shrugged and took a deep swallow of coffee. “Contrary to what you may believe, I am not an unfeeling woman, Dr. Harding, but I do have a business to run. Sheila should
have done what the others did and put an end to it. One or two good doses of ergot and the problem is gone.”

Though it was not the most commonly prescribed medicine in a physician’s pharmacopoeia, since she had come to Cheyenne Elizabeth had heard more references to ergot than she liked. Tabitha Chadwick had demanded a bottle; Laura Seaman was suffering from an overly liberal dosage; now Phoebe was advocating its use.

Elizabeth knew that Dr. Worland had dispensed it in the past, because Tabitha Chadwick had told her so, but Phoebe made it sound as if she had another source.

“Ergot is very dangerous,” Elizabeth said, her voice as stern as an angry schoolmarm’s. “Your girls should not be drinking it.”

A small smile crossed Phoebe’s face, making Elizabeth think she was pleased that she’d managed to anger her. “You’re not going to stop them.”

“Where do they get it? I’ve been to every drugstore in Cheyenne, and no one carries it.”

The smile turned secretive. “Don’t they? Sometimes you need to know how to ask for something. And you needn’t ask me where I get it, because I’m not going to tell you. I’ve got to worry about my business.”

Elizabeth felt as if she and Phoebe had engaged in a sparring match. At this point, there was no winner. Realizing she would learn nothing more today, she nodded. “I understand your concern about your business. I don’t agree with you, but I won’t argue.” If she angered Phoebe too much, the woman might have Dr. Worland resume care of the girls, and that would not be good for either the girls or Elizabeth. “You should know, though, that ergot could kill one of your girls,
and if Sheila continues to entertain in those corsets, you may lose her as well as her baby.”

Phoebe was silent for a moment. Letting out a sigh, she looked Elizabeth in the eye. “All right, Dr. Harding. You’ve won this round.”

“Mr. Nordling?”

Jason nodded at the man who’d entered his office. A couple inches over six feet, he had the broad shoulders and calloused hands of a man accustomed to hard labor. A rancher, Jason surmised. And though his dark brown hair was dusty, his clothing was relatively new and well-made. Unlike some of the farmers who barely survived, it appeared that this man had prospered.

“Call me Jason,” he said as he ushered the man into his consulting room. His professors had stressed the importance of maintaining formality with clients, but they hadn’t practiced law in Wyoming Territory. Life was less formal here. Furthermore, Jason had discovered that a more relaxed atmosphere fostered a greater level of trust, and that was something both he and his clients needed.

“What can I do for you?”

“Harrison Landry told me about you.” As the man started to settle into a chair, he rose again and stuck out his hand. “I’m Kevin Granger, by the way.” When the pleasantries were completed, he took his seat and gazed at Jason. “No point in beating around the bush. I need to make sure my girls are cared for if I die.”

It wasn’t uncommon for a man to ask Jason to prepare a will so that his wife and children would be protected, but
this was the first time a man as young as Kevin Granger had been so blunt. “Are you ill?” There were no visible signs, but Jason knew that some diseases attacked from the inside and weren’t evident until the end was near.

“No, sir,” Kevin said, “but I can’t take any chances. My wife wasn’t ill either. She just dropped dead a month after the baby was born. No warning at all.”

For a second, Jason was transported to the past and the day his father had died. There had been no warning then, either, at least none that Jason had seen. He wondered, though, whether the reverend had had a premonition, for it had been the previous night that he’d told Jason how important it was that the Nordling line continue.

“Lucky I was in the barn,” Kevin continued, wrenching Jason back to the present and the realization that this man was in the same situation the reverend had been: widowed with children. “I heard Ruby scream. When I got there, she was clutching her chest.”

Jason nodded as images of his father’s final moments flooded through him. The reverend had gripped his head, his grimace leaving no doubt that he’d been in excruciating pain. Doc Rollins had claimed that something must have burst inside his brain. This was different. It sounded as if Ruby Granger’s heart just gave out. Heart or brain, the result was the same.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jason said. And he was. It had to be difficult to be a widower with more than one child, for Kevin had said girls, plural. But though he sympathized with the bereaved father, Jason’s heart went out to the children who’d lost their mother. He could only pray that they were not being raised by someone like Mrs. Moran. Biting back his emotions, he nodded again. “What you need is a will.”

“Yes, sir. I don’t want there to be any question that my girls will get the ranch.” Kevin scuffed the floor with the toe of one boot. “Not that it’ll do ’em much good right now. They’re too young.”

“All right. Let’s start at the beginning.” Jason pulled out a clean sheet of paper and prepared to write. “Give me their names and ages.” When he’d noted the information, Jason looked at the man who was trying to raise three girls under six years old. How did he manage?

“I’ve got a woman who cares for them during the day,” Kevin explained. A housekeeper. Jason tried not to shudder. They weren’t all like Mrs. Moran.

“An older woman, sort of a grandmother. She’s not much of a cook, but she’s gentle with the girls.” Unlike Mrs. Moran, who’d delighted in twisting little boys’ ears.

“I can protect the girls’ inheritance,” Jason assured Kevin. “The problem is, you’ll need to appoint a guardian.”

“What’s that?”

“Someone to raise them. Usually it’s a family member. Given their ages, I would recommend an aunt or uncle.”

Kevin’s scowl told Jason his opinion of that recommendation. “I wouldn’t trust my family with them. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“What about close friends? Church members?”

Kevin shook his head. “I haven’t been to church since Ruby died. I figured that if God loved me the way the preacher claimed, he wouldn’t have taken her.”

Jason knew that was a common reaction. He’d been with the reverend on more than one call when he’d tried to comfort bereaved spouses. “Sometimes it’s difficult to understand God’s ways,” Jason said, paraphrasing his father’s words.
“The Bible tells us that God promises to turn even bad to good for us, but it doesn’t always happen the way we would like or as quickly as we think it should.”

Kevin’s scowl deepened. “No offense, sir, but I didn’t come here for a sermon.”

Jason knew when to stop. “That’s true. You didn’t. My father was a minister. I guess more of his preaching rubbed off on me than I realized.” Jason cleared his throat, wishing there were something he could do to help this man and his motherless daughters. “As I said, I can draft a will to protect the assets, but you need to find someone you’d trust to care for your daughters. Most men would marry again.”

“I’ve had a couple widows suggest that. I’ll tell you what I told them: I won’t marry unless I find a woman I love as much as I did Ruby.”

“That’s what my father said when I asked why I didn’t have a stepmother. He told me the housekeeper he’d hired would take care of our needs. She didn’t.”

“I know.” Kevin’s expression was solemn. “That’s why I spend every minute I can with the girls. I reckon I have to be both father and mother to them. That’s what Ruby would have wanted.”

Jason was still considering the subject when he ushered Kevin out of his office, promising to have the will drafted within three days. In one respect, he was more fortunate than Kevin, for he had friends here in Cheyenne. But love? Kevin had the advantage there, for he’d had his Ruby, the woman who’d given him three children and who’d filled his life with so much happiness that he wouldn’t consider replacing her, even to make his daily life easier. It would be wonderful to have a wife like that.

As he closed the door, Elizabeth’s face came to mind. Jason tried to brush it away. It was silly to be thinking about her, no matter how beautiful she was, no matter that her quick wit energized him, no matter that her smile made his heart beat faster. He couldn’t marry Elizabeth, couldn’t even consider it.

 14 

I
t would be childish to slam the door. Elizabeth knew that, and so she closed it carefully, refusing to give in to the temptation to vent her emotions on the front door to her office. She unpinned her hat and placed it on the rack before entering her examining room. She would file patient notes. That was the most boring task she had, and maybe, just maybe, it would release the tension that had been building since she spoke to Phoebe. The contentment Elizabeth had felt on her walk to Phoebe’s was gone, shattered by the knowledge that though Phoebe claimed Elizabeth had won this round, the war still raged. Elizabeth had no doubt that Phoebe would be extra vigilant with her girls, ensuring that if another one developed what she called a “problem,” she’d be given a massive dose of ergot before Elizabeth knew of her condition.

“You look as if you lost your best friend.”

Elizabeth turned, startled to see Jason. Either she’d been so lost in her thoughts that she’d been unaware of his approach
or his steps had been quieter than normal. It was unlike her to not hear either the doorbell or footsteps.

“I’m sorry. I’m a bit out of sorts today.”

“Do you want to talk about whatever’s bothering you?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I can’t.” When Jason nodded, as if he understood, she added, “Let’s just say that I’m concerned about some of my patients.” Though she had tried to convince herself that the situation would have been no better—perhaps worse—if Dr. Worland were treating them, that knowledge did nothing to allay Elizabeth’s concerns. It was unrealistic to think that she’d never lose a patient and that the ones she had would always follow her advice, and yet Elizabeth couldn’t help wishing that were true.

Jason appeared to be studying her as intently as she did a new patient. Gesturing toward the door, he said, “What you need is a change of scenery.” The smile he gave her was as warm as an August sun. “I’m willing to wager that you haven’t left Cheyenne since you arrived.”

Elizabeth was a physician. She knew that hearts weren’t wounded by words or unkind acts and that they couldn’t be mended with a smile, and yet she couldn’t deny that she felt better simply because Jason was at her side. When she’d been a child, her sisters, especially Abigail, had been able to coax her out of a bad mood, but since she’d become an adult, there had been no one to lighten her spirits. No one until Jason. “You’d win that bet,” she told him. “I haven’t ventured outside the city limits.” There were even parts of the city itself that she had not explored.

“Then it’s time. Let’s close up shop and go.”

“Where?”

Jason shook his head. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told
you. I’ll be back in half an hour.” Giving her clothing a quick glance, he said, “You might want a heavier coat. The weather can change quickly at this time of the year.” Or at any time. Elizabeth had seen a sunny July day turn into a thunderstorm that had dropped buckets of rain. An hour later, the sun had returned, evaporating the water so quickly that she’d wondered if she had merely imagined the downpour.

“All right,” she agreed. “Half an hour.” Fortunately, she kept a warm cloak in her office, so there was no need to return to her apartment and explain to Gwen why she was playing hooky.

Twenty-eight minutes later, Elizabeth was seated in Jason’s carriage, heading west on 15th Street.

“I thought we might be going to City Park,” she said, “but it’s the opposite direction.”

A Cheshire grin lit Jason’s face, as if he realized that she had spent the past half hour speculating on their destination. “The park is too civilized. Besides, it’s inside the city, so it wouldn’t accomplish my goal of getting you outside of Cheyenne.” He gestured toward the mountains looming on the horizon southwest of the city. “I wish we had time to go there, but we don’t.”

Perhaps someday she would visit the Rockies. Though their snow caps had melted over the summer, Elizabeth knew it was only a matter of weeks—perhaps days—before the high country had its first snow and the mountains were once more white.

One evening when she’d been in a nostalgic mood, Gwen had regaled Elizabeth with stories of the time she and her husband had gone to the mountains. According to Gwen, they’d been such greenhorns that they hadn’t realized they
might suffer from the altitude. What was supposed to be a romantic interlude had turned into a nightmare filled with nausea and brutal headaches. “If you ever go there,” she’d cautioned Elizabeth, “be sure to drink lots and lots of water. I’ve heard that that helps.”

It was advice Elizabeth had followed during her first weeks in Cheyenne, for although the city wasn’t nearly as high as the mountains, at over 6,000 feet above sea level, Cheyenne was still high enough to cause discomfort to travelers unaccustomed to the thinner air. When both Charlotte and Abigail had warned her of the dangers of altitude, Elizabeth had done some research and discovered a scholarly article touting the therapeutic effects of increased fluids and reduced physical exertion.

“I’d like to visit the mountains someday, but in the meantime, I’m enjoying the carriage ride. Even if we don’t go any further,” she said, gesturing as they passed the train depot, “it’s been a nice break.”

The beautiful red sandstone edifice that had been under construction for over a year appeared to be nearing completion. With its Romanesque arches, this depot was a far cry from the simple wooden building where she’d disembarked more than three months earlier. It was also a fitting companion to the capitol that was being erected eight blocks north. Though very different in both color and architectural styles, the two structures were designed to showcase Cheyenne’s role as the largest city in the territory and one of the wealthiest cities in the country. Passengers leaving the depot would have a fine view of the light gray sandstone building that would boast columns and a dome when finished, and legislators departing the capitol would have no doubt of the railroad’s
importance in Cheyenne, for the Union Pacific depot would dominate their view.

“You need more than a break. You need a change of scenery.”

Elizabeth looked down the street. If she craned her neck, she could see a small range of mountains to the northwest. Though less imposing than the Rockies themselves, they were still beautiful.

“Those mountains would also qualify as a change of scenery,” she told Jason.

“I’m glad you think so, because you’ll see them from where we’re going today.” Jason waved at Nelson Chadwick as they passed the lumberyard. “We don’t have enough time to go all the way to the Laramies, but there won’t be any clients or patients to interrupt us where we are headed.”

There were none. Once they left the city, there was nothing to see but rolling prairie, the short grasses now golden with autumn’s return, and the grayish-blue peaks of the Laramie Mountains on the horizon. Overhead, a hawk drifted on the air currents, perhaps looking for his next meal. Mindful of the danger, a prairie dog barked a warning, sending his neighbors scurrying into their burrows. And above them all was a sky so perfectly blue that it threatened to bring tears to Elizabeth’s eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, not wanting to spoil the moment with loud noises. “And so peaceful.”

Jason stopped the carriage and turned toward her. “I agree. Michigan has its own kind of beauty. There’s nothing quite like the sight or scent of an orchard in bloom. But once I saw Wyoming, I knew there was no other place for me.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not everyone feels the same way. Look
around.” Jason gestured expansively. “The treeless prairie can be intimidating, especially to Easterners. I’ve had some of them ask me where we hid the forests.”

Elizabeth’s smile turned into a grin. “That sounds like my sister Abigail. When she first came here, she thought the land was boring.”

“But you said she plans to move back.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “It didn’t take her long to fall in love with both Wyoming and a special man.”

The look Jason gave her made Elizabeth regret her choice of words. She hadn’t meant to speak of love.

“What about you?”

Deliberately misunderstanding, she said, “I’ll admit there are times when I miss the trees, but not today. The fresh air, the sunshine, and the sheer expanse are wonderful. I feel as if they’re sweeping the cobwebs from my brain.”

Jason’s nod told her the danger had passed. There would be no discussion of love. “So this is what the doctor ordered?”

“It’s what the doctor should have ordered,” she amended, “only I didn’t know it was what I needed.”

“But now you’re here.” He helped her out of the carriage, and they walked silently for a few minutes, her hand on his arm. The grasses crunched underfoot, and when her skirt disturbed a sagebrush, the shrub gave off its distinctive scent, reminding Elizabeth of the stuffing Mama made for Thanksgiving turkeys. Jason was right. This was what Elizabeth had needed, this vast landscape filled with subtle beauty. Seeing the majesty of God’s creation made her realize how small her problems were.

“Do you want to talk about what was wrong?” Jason asked when they turned to head back to the carriage. “The reverend
used to claim that an important part of his ministry was getting people to open up.”

“My father used to say the same thing. When I started to study medicine, I wondered whether talking was like lancing a boil, letting the poison out so that the healing could begin. I don’t feel as if there’s poison inside, and yet . . .” Elizabeth hesitated, knowing she could not breach her patients’ confidentiality. She started to shake her head, then nodded as she rationalized that what she was going to say wouldn’t violate her ethics. “I’m worried that so many of my patients are treating themselves.”

Jason laid his hand on top of hers, his touch as warm as his voice. “People have been doing that forever.”

“And they’ve been dying before their time too.” That was the problem. Medicines—even ergot—could be therapeutic, but only if used judiciously. More often than Elizabeth wanted to accept, patients believed that if a little was good, more would be better, and despite repeated warnings, they took too much.

“You can’t save everyone,” Jason said, tightening his grip on her hand and slowing their pace until they were barely moving.

“I know that, but . . .”

“You want to.”

He understood. The tone of his voice told her that, and it warmed her heart another few degrees. Even her sisters hadn’t completely understood what had driven her to become a doctor.

“Yes. Is that wrong?”

“Of course not. It’s what you must do, at least for now.” He stopped and turned so that he was facing her, his expres
sion enigmatic. Perhaps she’d been mistaken. Perhaps he did not understand.

“You sound as though you don’t believe I’ll be a doctor ten or twenty years from now.”

“People change.” Though Jason’s eyes were warm as they gazed into hers, his words sent a sudden chill down Elizabeth’s spine, making her wish she could shut her ears to whatever he intended to say. “You might decide you want a more settled life, perhaps a husband and children.”

She shouldn’t listen, for his words stirred up emotions best left alone. “Have you been talking to Phoebe?”

“No.” Jason’s reply was instantaneous. “I don’t frequent her establishment, and she’s not a client, so I have no reason to speak with her. Why did you think I did?”

“Because she said almost the same thing this morning.”

Jason was silent for a moment, but his gaze never left Elizabeth’s. “Is that one of the reasons you were upset when you returned?”

“No.” Elizabeth paused, considering the question, not liking the answer that echoed through her brain. “I don’t think so.”