Marry Me (6 page)

Cole didn’t find the deputy’s answer surprising. He rolled Runt’s sock back up, loosely closed her trousers, and tugged on the stained tails of her shirt to give her some protection as Will drew near with the litter. “What about the sheriff? He was insistent that I come out here.”

Will set the litter down as close to Runt as he could. “Are you asking me if Wyatt Cooper could have fathered Runt’s baby? ‘Cause if you are, that makes you about as thick as day-old porridge.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of the sheriff suspecting that Runt was carrying a child.”

“Then he had to have suspicioned Runt was a girl.”

“That’s right.”

“He never said anything.”

Clearly, that troubled Will. Cole said, “Maybe he thought you’d laugh at him.”

“I probably would have.” He considered what Wyatt could have possibly known. “Wyatt’s got an eye for things, better than most folks, I’ve always thought. He started lugging his camera and equipment outdoors again, making photographs the way he used to before he became sheriff. His wife sorta insisted on it. She doesn’t like him underfoot when she’s working.”

As a member of the search committee, and a woman of considerable influence in Reidsville, Mrs. Cooper was among those who greeted his train at the station platform. He knew she owned half of the town’s mining operation outright, and all of the Calico Spur, but he learned these things later from others. She’d simply introduced herself to him as a dressmaker.

“Has Mrs. Cooper ever come out this way with her husband?” he asked, gesturing to Will to support Runt’s shoulders and back again.

Will moved into position as Cole did the same. They easily lifted Runt and laid her on the litter. “She’s met all the outliers at one time or another.”

Cole nodded but kept his own counsel. “Do you want to get your shirt before we leave?”

“Later. Once Runt’s back in the cabin.” He regarded Cole questioningly. “Unless you’ll need me then.”

“No. What I have to do is better done alone. Will the horses follow?”

Will put two fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. His mount tossed his head and turned in their direction. “Dolly will come by and by.”

Cole decided to place his unopened bag near Runt’s feet rather than trust either of the horses to carry it back. “Will you lead? I need to be able to watch her.” Once Will agreed, they bent and raised the poles together, testing the strength of the litter before they straightened completely. It was more difficult for Will because of the awkwardness of gripping the poles slightly at his back, and Cole waited until he was certain Will had a good grasp and balance before he indicated they could set out.

Their progress was slow but steady, and they only halted once when Cole saw Runt’s eyes flutter open. Her stare was blank at first, then so sharp with pain and accusation that Cole felt the edge of both. He thought she might have grimaced, but the dirt and blood smearing her lips could also have accounted for the misshapen curl of it.

Judah appeared in the doorway as soon as they reached the porch steps. He didn’t move aside. His clear intention was to block their entrance. He thrust the tip of the walking stick at Will’s chest, poking him hard. “You can’t bring Runt in here.”

“Move aside, Judah, or I swear I’ll pick your teeth clean with that stick.”

“You think I can’t keep you out?” He gave the stick a flourish. “Do not underestimate my skill, Deputy. I honed my talents for the stage, but they’re real enough. You have seen my Tybalt. He lays Mercutio out. And my Hamlet? The rapier is but an extension of my hand.” Judah parried with his stick, jabbing Will in the abdomen. “You’re not carrying a gun, I noticed. Just the rifle, and I think I can get to it first, what with you having to hold the litter the way you do.” He looked past Will’s shoulder at Cole. “You have something to say, Dr. Monroe?”

“Have you no compassion, Mr. Abbot? None? For your daughter?”

“So you know that now. Do you think it makes a difference? Should I keep company with a whore just because she’s my daughter?”

Will’s knuckles whitened on the litter. “Put down that damn stick, old man.”

Judah made a circling motion with the tip and lunged, driving the breath from Will’s lungs with the sharpness of the blow. Will staggered, lost his footing in the loose gravel at the base of the steps, and bobbled the litter. Behind him, he felt Cole’s grip change and thought they were losing Runt. It took him a moment to realize that Cole was lowering his end to the ground. The piercing whistle that followed made Will instinctively raise his shoulders to shield his ears. He noticed that the sound also halted Judah in his tracks and stayed his hand.

Will’s horse trotted up and sidled close. Cole had Will’s rifle out of the scabbard before Judah realized there was any danger. Sidestepping the horse, the litter, and the loose gravel, Cole raised the rifle and cocked it. His arm was steady, his aim true.

“You might find comfort in the fact that I know exactly where to fire a mortal round. There would be some pain but not much. I suspect you would be dead before you felt it.” He paused, his eyes fixed on Judah’s. “Now, move off the porch, Mr. Abbot, or I’ll shoot you in the knee where you’ll feel it the rest of your life.”

Judah Abbot’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. He offered no response, however, and gradually lowered the walking stick. He used it to support himself as he moved sideways to the left lip of the porch.

“Go on,” Cole said. “Jump.” It was only a few feet, but Cole knew enough about the stiffness in Judah’s hip to know the jolt would be painful and keep him from moving too quickly. As soon as Judah leapt, Cole laid the rifle beside Runt and picked up his end of the litter.

Will nudged the door open with his boot and went inside. “Judah’s bedroom is over there,” Will said, jerking his chin to the right.

“Where I got the sheets. Runt and his brothers slept in the loft.”

“Judah’s room it is.”

With some careful maneuvering, they were able to set the litter on Judah’s iron rail bed. The springs creaked and mattress dipped alarmingly as Cole placed one knee on the edge to position Runt better. “We’ll leave her on the litter for now. Fire up the stove and put some water on for me, then you can go get your shirt. Take the rifle and find a leash for that mad dog. Don’t let him poke you with that stick again, and see if you can’t get Runt’s proper name out of him.”

That no-account Beatty boy had an urge to salute smartly. He held himself in check, but only just. “Anything else?”

“Not now. Check with me when you get back.”

Will nodded and started to go, pausing in the doorway to look back once. “That was some good thinking, Doc. You looked real comfortable handling that rifle.”

Cole was brushing back a black shock of badly cropped hair from Runt’s forehead. He looked up and caught the deputy’s eye. “Perhaps I was.” His gaze dropped away as he opened his bag, “Then again, perhaps I was acting.”

“That’s all right,” Will said. “I like a puzzle.” With that,

he closed the door quietly and went about his business.

In preparation of this morning’s visit to the Abbots, Cole had taken the time to pack his medical bag carefully. He wished now he’d known it would require a magician’s skill to pull whatever he needed out of it. He owned three satchels: surgical, obstetrical, and one that Whitley called the kitchen sink. Believing that his goal today was to learn about his patients and provide evaluation and consultation, he brought the third bag for its general usefulness. It contained a mercury thermometer, a couple of scalpels and probes, one pair of scissors, sutures and a curved needle for suturing, tweezers, a razor, a binaural stethoscope, hand soap, a notebook and pencil, finger splints and a bandage roll, cotton pads, and five small cobalt blue bottles containing common medicines like pepsin and aconite tincture that had wide application. Almost as an afterthought, he’d added a saw and anesthetic vaporizer from his surgical bag. It never once occurred to him that he’d need any of his obstetrical instruments. “It’ll have to do,” he told his patient. “I’ll have to make it do.”

Cole heard Will leave the house. Almost immediately there was a volley of expletives leveled at Will’s head. Cole ignored Judah’s colorful curses and accusations, confident the deputy could handle it, and began preparing his patient for a thorough examination by first removing the clothes that he could easily and cutting away the rest. The rest included the wide strips of linen wound around her chest like swaddling cloths. Cole’s only response to making this discovery was to shake his head.

He carefully removed the bloody wadding from between her thighs and pushed a pillow under her hips to keep her pelvis on an incline. He covered her with a clean sheet.

The lack of good light in the room frustrated him. Drawing back the curtains revealed another window in need of a thorough scrubbing. Cole propped it open and examined the wadding. There appeared to be little new blood; most of it was in some stage of drying. This was borne out when he raised the sheet and glanced at the pillow under her buttocks. He was encouraged to see that bright crimson stains were minimal.

Cole tossed out water from the basin on the washstand and poured fresh from the pitcher. He found a stack of linen towels folded in the cupboard and removed one. Taking the soap from his bag, he made a good lather and washed his hands before he applied himself to the further care of his patient.

He retrieved his thermometer and slipped it under Runt’s armpit, then he removed his pocket watch and observed her respiration for a full minute. After recording it, he checked her pulse. It was stronger than it had been when he’d first come upon her but not as steady as he would have liked. Cole took out his stethoscope and fixed the ivory earpieces in place. He lowered the sheet to uncover Runt’s left breast and rested the ebonized wood bell over her heart. He listened carefully to the rhythmic contractions of the chambers, the rush of blood, and its smooth passage through the valves.

Runt stirred, moaned, and offered a modicum of resistance when he turned her on her side to listen to her lungs. After assuring himself that they were clear, Cole allowed her to lie on her back. He removed the thermometer from her armpit and read it. She had a slight fever. He set the thermometer on the washstand and recorded the temperature in his book as 100.4°

Cole put away his stethoscope and turned down Runt’s sheet to the level of her waist. He tapped on her abdomen, carefully avoiding the welts, then pressed harder in the areas of the major organs, watching her face all the while for some reaction. None of her distress seemed to be associated with anything other than her pelvic region. He covered her up to her neck with the sheet and relocated himself closer to the foot of the bed.

Cole raised Runt’s knees and pushed the hem of the sheet over them. He separated her thighs and pressed her heels into the feather tick until they found purchase. It was a stretch to reach the basin and towels, but he managed it and set them on the bed beside him. In order to learn the extent of her beating, he wiped away every vestige of blood. The labia majora were bruised and there were thin lacerations on the inner lips. Without a vaginal speculum, Cole could not make as complete an examination as he would have liked. He probed her vagina gently with two fingers, feeling for tearing and abrasions and believed he found both, suggesting the insertion of a foreign object.

Cole rinsed off his hands and rose from the bed with the basin in his arms. He emptied the basin out the window for the second time, then left Runt alone while he checked on the water Will was supposed to have left for him on the stove. It was boiling when he got there. At their current altitude boiling didn’t necessarily mean it was hot enough for sterilization, but he decided it would serve his purpose.

He found some whiskey in the larder and tucked the bottle under his arm, and then carried it and the kettle back to the bedroom. He rinsed the basin with hot water, tossed it, and added more hot water. When it was tolerable to dip his hands in, he washed them again.

Situating himself at Runt’s side, he replaced the pillow with two folded towels. Laying his warm palms over her lower abdomen, he massaged and manipulated the flesh in aid of expelling any placental tissue still trapped in her uterus. He worked for several minutes and kept a close eye on the bloody effusion that stained the towels.

When he was satisfied that the procedure had been as effective as it could be, he straightened and rolled his shoulders, loosening the hard knots between his blades. He reached for the towels, his glance swiveling sideways toward Runt as he did so. He knew a moment’s hesitation when he saw she was watching him.

This was a lucid gaze. There was pain, certainly, but her slate gray eyes were not dull with it. There was cognition and comprehension. She held his stare unblinkingly but with none of the defiance he had glimpsed earlier. It required effort for her to speak. Cole would have only been surprised if she hadn’t made it. Her voice was breathy, edged with a soft rasp that came from deep in her throat.

“Is it gone?” she asked.

Cole nodded.

She closed her eyes. “That’s good, then.” “You’re in a better place to judge than I am.” “God judges.”

Cole did not disagree. He studied her face, the only part of her that he hadn’t spared the time to clean. Looking past the smears of dirt to the structure of her face, Cole could see that she’d been given certain features that helped her hide her true nature. There was strong definition to her jaw and a natural thrust to her chin. Her mouth was a bold slash, the lips marked by beads of blood and scored from the biting pressure of her teeth. She had a nose that had actually been broken–perhaps more than once. If it had ever been delicate, it wasn’t now, but the slight asymmetrical bent simply made her face more interesting, not necessarily more masculine. Her eyes were a tad widely spaced, and while she had thick lashes, they were also stubby. In the strictest sense, her most feminine feature was the absence of an Adam’s apple, although Cole could imagine that cleaned up and given the proper application of stage cosmetics, she had favorably impressed her audiences as Portia, Juliet, and Desdemona. The heart-shaped face alone might account for it.