Marry Me (7 page)

Cole slid off the bed. “I know you’re not sleeping,” he said, setting the basin aside. “I need you to be for what I have to do next. Do you understand?”

She didn’t open her eyes, but she did answer him. “I can stand it, whatever it is.”

“But I can’t. If you’ve no pity for yourself, then show some for me.” He didn’t give her an opportunity to argue. “I have an anesthetic vaporizer with me. It’s a kind of mask.” Cole pulled it out of his bag. “Do you want to see it? No? All right. It has two parts, the metal holder that I’ll place around your nose and mouth and the gauze that I’ll stretch across the top and fix to it. I’ll soak the gauze with some liquid ether. It will vaporize and you’ll breathe it in. Slow, deep breaths. When you wake up, I’ll be done.”

He wondered if she would ask him what he meant to do and knew a measure of relief when she didn’t. At no time during his stay at St. John’s were any of the house doctors advised that they should explain themselves to a patient. Rather, they were cautioned to keep their exchanges with the sick to a minimum during rounds and discuss symptoms, diagnoses, and procedures with their colleagues. It was the generally held belief that the patients, even if they could understand what was being said, were not interested. They vested their faith in God and their doctors, and it was all the better, Dr. James Erwin told his interns, if they didn’t know the difference.

Cole was never certain that the chief surgeon knew there was a difference, either. Erwin embraced the notion of his own infallibility. This thought rolled through his mind as he prepared the vaporizer. His hands were steady as he measured out the ether and poured it onto the gauze. He was not immune to uncertainty, even fear, especially when the procedure was one with which he had little experience, but he’d always possessed a talent for turning doubt into further inquiry and caution. He would act, but he would be exacting.

Cole placed the apparatus over Runt’s mouth and nose and held it firmly when she instinctively tried to avoid it. He turned his face toward the open window to avoid breathing the ether fumes and spoke to her in a firm and steady cadence, encouraging her to take deep and even breaths. “Count backward from one hundred,” he told her. By ninety-two, she was asleep.

Cole worked quickly after that. Using a finger splint and most of his own bandages, he fashioned a swab. He poured hot water and whiskey over it and then situated himself between Runt’s raised legs. He carefully inserted the swab into her vagina and pushed until he felt the tip of her cervix. He cleansed her internal wounds by rotating the swab as he slowly withdrew it.

As soon as he was done, he discarded the swab and removed the vaporizer to the windowsill. He lowered Runt’s legs and covered her, then pulled a chair up to the bedside, sat, and waited.

Cole heard the approach of Will’s horse. There was another heated exchange between Judah and the deputy, then the cabin floor shook as Will thumped across the porch. A moment later, he was knocking at the bedroom door.

“Come in,” Cole called.

“How is she?” Will hovered in the doorway. Water from the tails of his wet shirt dripped on the wooden floor. “Did you even wring that out?” “Twice.” He waved more questions about his shirt aside.

“What about her?”

“She’s coming out of the ether now.”

Will’s lightly colored eyebrows lifted. “Glad I wasn’t here then. If you needed that, it must’ve been bad.”

Cole didn’t argue. “What’s her name?”

“Judah tells me we’ve been saying it proper all along, only we didn’t have it right in our minds.”

“How’s that again?”

“It’s spelled R-h-y-n-e. He said it was his wife’s maiden name. Pronounced it like it was R-y-a-n, but with a little bit of a drawl. Rhyne. It’s kinda pretty that way.”

Curious, Cole thought. “When the family performed, did Judah print a playbill?”

“Not sure I remember.” He removed his hat and plowed his pale hair with four fingers. “Reckon he did. Judah liked to be professional.”

“It would be interesting to know how he introduced her.”

“Runt Abbot.”

Will and Cole turned simultaneously. Rhyne’s eyes were still closed, but her lips were parted.

“Rusty, Randy, and Runt Abbot,” she said quietly. “So there would be no mistake.”

Cole dampened the corner of one of the towels and leaned forward to press it against Rhyne’s parched lips. “Will you get her some cool water?” he asked Will. “And bring a couple of empty glasses. I don’t know about you, but I could use a whiskey.”

When Will disappeared, Cole addressed Rhyne. “Are you nauseated? Feel like you have to–”

“I know what it means. Keep a bucket close. We’ll see.”

“Pain?”

“What about it?”

“I can give you something for it.”

She opened one eye, her regard skeptical. “Laudanum? I don’t want it.”

“I can’t give you anything else. I have salicylate, but it will thin your blood. That’s not a good idea right now.”

Rhyne remained skeptical, but she didn’t offer any resistance.

“As soon as I’m certain you’re not going to be sick, I’ll mix the laudanum for you.”

Rhyne opened her other eye, turned her head carefully, and looked around. “Where’s Judah?”

“Outside.” He didn’t mention that her father was tied up.

“He won’t like me being in his room.”

“I don’t understand. Isn’t this where he flailed you?” Cole had not intended to put the question to her so baldly, but he’d told his sister the truth when he said no one had ever mistaken him for being charming. Rhyne Abbot certainly would not misjudge him. What he did not expect, however, was for her to show no reaction. Will’s arrival prevented him from asking further questions.

He held out his hand for the glass of water and edged his chair closer to the bed. Slipping one arm under Rhyne’s head, he pressed the lip of the glass against her dry lips. “Easy. Easy now.” He drew it back when she tried to make him tip it. “Ready?” When she nodded, he allowed her a few more sips before setting the glass on the washstand. “How about that whiskey, Will?”

Will plucked the bottle from beside Cole’s chair and poured each of them a generous shot. “Wasn’t sure you were a drinking man,” Will said. “Sid Walker doesn’t think you are.”

“I’m not in the practice of offering alcohol to my patients, especially when their visit is prompted by that expectation.” He picked up the thermometer from where he’d placed it on the washstand. “Here’s what it’s good for.” He used the thermometer like a stirrer in his whiskey. “It cleans my instruments.” Cole put the thermometer back in his velour-lined bag and tipped his glass at Will before he drained it.

“Will?”

“What is it, Runt?” He flushed. “Rhyne. I mean Rhyne.”

“What’s Judah doing?”

“Last time I saw him, he was pacing the ground and railin’ at me. I’ve got him tethered to a tree by the privy, so you can understand the old bastard’s not in good humor.”

“You won’t be able to let him go,” she said weakly. “He’ll kill you.”

“I’m taking him in. He can cool off in jail. I figure that’s the only way either one of us is safe. The doc isn’t going to want to move you any time soon, and if you’ve got to stay in bed, Judah can’t stay here.”

That no-account Beatty knew what he was about, Cole decided. “It’s a good plan,” he said.

“I thought I’d save you the trouble of explaining it to me.” He finished his whiskey and rolled the glass between his palms as he went on. “I was thinking you’d want to stay here and look after her, but I know you’d have to make arrangements for your sister. I could ask Rose if we could take her in until you get back.”

Cole weighed the needs of his patient against his responsibility to Whitley.

Will made another suggestion when Cole didn’t respond, “Mrs. Cooper or Mrs. Showalter would do it, too, if you’d rather it was one of them.”

Cole realized that by not answering immediately he’d offended Will. He knew all about Mrs. Beatty’s former profession inside of two hours of his arrival. Rose made it a point to tell him. “It’s a generous offer, Will, and I’ll be relieved if Mrs. Beatty agrees. I hesitated because of Whitley. She thinks she’s sufficiently mature to be left alone.” She probably was, he allowed, but that didn’t mean he’d allow it. “I think she’d be pleased to spend time with you and your wife.”

“Good. That’s settled.” He stopped rolling the glass. “The sheriff makes his rounds on Thursdays. If you tell me what you’ll need, I’ll see that you get it. If you need it earlier, I suppose one of us can bring it tomorrow morning.”

“Judah’s about my size. His clothes will do. I’ll want my obstetrical bag on Thursday. Whitley will show you which one it is.”

Will nodded. “The larder’s stocked. I peeked in the root cellar. You sure as hell won’t starve.” He glanced at Rhyne as it occurred to him that maybe he should apologize. “Pardon my language.”

She sneered at him. “Damn you and your apology, Will Beatty. You can’t leave me with him.”

“I can’t leave you with your pa.” “I want my rifle.”

Will looked at Cole, saw the almost imperceptible nod, and agreed. “I brought it back with me when I got my shirt. There’s nothing gained by leaving a fine rifle like your Winchester on the ground. I’ll clean and polish it before I go, and I’ll put it on the rack.”

“I want it here.”

“Bring it in, Will,” said Cole. “She doesn’t know she’s supposed to be too exhausted to argue.”

“Runt never did.” Will realized his mistake, but he didn’t correct himself this time. Rhyne wouldn’t have thanked him for it, but she would have sapped her strength setting him straight.

Will took Cole’s glass with him when he went. He poked his head out the door to check on Judah and got a double fist shaken at him for his interest. Grinning, he ducked back inside, took the glasses to the kitchen, and got the rifle. Rhyne’s Winchester repeater was a well cared for weapon and he was still admiring it as he carried it back into the bedroom. “I don’t mind cleaning it,” he said, approaching the bed.

“Take your time,” Cole told him. “She fell asleep again.”

Will found what he needed in the other room and set to work while Cole took some time to familiarize himself with the cabin. He climbed to the loft where Will told him Rhyne slept and found some relatively clean shirts, a pair of denim trousers, another flannel union suit, and five socks. “She doesn’t own much,” he said, showing Will what he’d found.

“No, I’ve never seen Runt in more than three of four different shirts.”

“What about her stage clothes? Where do you think they might be?”

“Now, there’s a question.” He looked up from cleaning the rifle, a gleam in his eye. “You want me to ask Judah? It’d be a pleasure.”

Cole shook his head. “Let me look around some more.”

“Suit yourself.”

The cabin only had three areas, and Judah’s room was the only one that afforded some privacy. The small loft was open and looked down into the front room. The kitchen and larder took up all of the space under the loft. Cole made his own inspection of the larder, saw that it was as well stocked as Will had said, and wondered if Rhyne was the one who made the preserves and pickled the beets. He chose ajar at random and read the label. The script was small and painstakingly neat:
CHERRY CURRANT JELLY
. The date indicated it was made last summer. Replacing the jar, he moved on, taking note of how precisely the shelves were organized and of how clean they were.

Judah’s influence, he thought, but perhaps not his work. It was difficult to know, and he wasn’t confident that Rhyne would see fit to answer his questions.

The door to the root cellar was set squarely in the middle of the larder. Cole lifted it and peered in. He found a lantern on one of the shelves, lighted it, and then eased through the opening and down the ladder. The smell of the rich, dark earth was pleasant, and Cole breathed deeply, inhaling the layered odors of onions, radishes, and potatoes.

Raising the lantern, Cole glanced around. He almost didn’t see the trunk for the burlap bags piled around it. He didn’t assume the intention was to hide the trunk, but rather that it had come to be hidden as a consequence of its lack of importance.

Cole cleared off the trunk and found that the key was in the lock. He turned it, flipped open a pair of latches, and lifted the lid. He called up to Will, “I found it!” Above him, he heard Will moving around. He looked to the opening and waited for the deputy’s face to appear. “The costumes,”

he said when Will came into view. “There’s a trunk of them here.”

“I’ll be darned.” He leaned the Winchester against the wall. “You want some help?”

It took about twenty minutes for Cole to rummage through the trunk and pass what garments he thought might be useful up to Will. The work could have gone more quickly, but Will had some comment about every piece he examined, usually a vague, highly suspect reminiscence about the play or the role that had employed the particular costume.

“I don’t feel so bad now about chasing after Runt. Seems to me that if I’d been able to catch and kiss him, I would’ve known he was a girl long before now.” He held out a hand to assist Cole coming out of the cellar. “’Course, I don’t know if I’d have really kissed him. Truth is, I was always relieved when he got away.”

“I can imagine,” Cole said dryly. He brushed himself off and looked at the gowns and other garments Will had laid neatly over the backs of two chairs. “We have to talk about that, Will.”

That no-account Beatty boy frowned. “Talk about what? Tryin’ to kiss Rhyne, you mean?”

“Not exactly.” Cole closed the door on the root cellar and motioned Will to follow him into the kitchen. He kept his voice low so there was no chance that he would be overheard. “Have you thought about what you’re going to charge Judah with?”

Will rubbed his chin. “Seems like there should be something. I know he beat Rhyne. She said he walloped her pretty good.”

“That hardly describes what happened to her.” The gravity of Cole’s expression kept Will from interrupting. “What you say to people about bringing Judah in is your prerogative, but I’m hoping you’ll be cautious about what you reveal–and to whom. It’s going to be difficult for Rhyne when people learn Runt Abbot is a girl, but they don’t need to know she was pregnant and lost the child. No one’s health is improved by being the subject of that sort of speculation, and she’s bound to learn of it.”