Medicine Wheel (28 page)

“Mama sent me. She said you should be there, and she told me she’s been praying you might help.”

“Tell me about Serena. I want to know her symptoms . . . how she’s acting.”

Elizabeth had composed herself now. “She has the shakes . . . awful chills. And she sweats and sweats and hurts all over. A lot of the time she’s out of her head.”

“Delirious?”

“Yes. That’s the word . . . delirious. And she goes into these trances where she doesn’t hear anybody talking to her. She was like that when I left. Mama called it a coma.”

Thad leaned back in his chair. He should head for the Belmont place right away. He needed something from Smith’s Drug Store, though. He was hesitant to send Elizabeth on the errand. Ebenezer Smith was rumored to be a part of the hierarchy of the local Klan. Thad wasn’t sure what kind of reception a young colored girl might receive there. “Elizabeth, do you know where Kirsten Cavelle lives?”

“The C Bar C? Sure.”

Thad slid the chair over to his desk and pulled out pencil and paper and began to write. When he was finished, he handed a folded sheet to Elizabeth. “I want you to ride over to the C Bar C and tell Miss Cavelle what’s happened and ask her to have Asa take this note to Smith’s Drug Store. I’ve instructed Smith to put the medicine on my account. When he gets the drug I’ve requested, he is to bring it to me at your parents’ house. Can you do that?”

She gave her first smile and nearly leaped from her chair. “Yes, sir. I’m on my way.”

58

W
HEN
T
HAD
ARRIVED
at the Belmont farm, he was met at the door by Rachael, who latched onto his arm and guided him into the parlor. Her face was sober and drawn, and he thought she had aged ten years since he last saw her.

“Thad, I can’t thank you enough for coming. Dr. Robinson gave us no hope. Quincy is crumbling. He’s out back, praying his heart out for a miracle.”

“Elizabeth should be along soon,” he said, “I sent her to relay a message to Kirsten Cavelle. Has Serena’s condition changed since Elizabeth left?”

“Not really. She’s asleep, and I can’t wake her. I can tell she has a terrible fever.”

“Where is she? I’d like to see her.”

“She’s in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Clarissa’s with her.” She moved toward the stairway. “Follow me.”

When they entered the bedroom, an obviously frightened Clarissa slipped out of the bedside chair and, without a word, scurried out of the room. Thad took her place and sat there for some moments, studying the young woman clad only in a sweat-soaked cotton nightdress. The wet fabric clung to her like a second layer of skin and her body shook like a feather fluttering in the wind. Her teeth rattled noisily. He placed his hand on her damp forehead and felt fire. She was teetering on the edge of death. ”Serena,” he said. “Serena.” There was no response.

He turned to Rachael. “We need to fill a tub with fresh well water. Can you get the kids started on that?”

“Of course, we’ve got a large claw-foot bathtub in a closet off the kitchen.” She disappeared from the room,

Thad watched Serena helplessly, wishing he could take back the cold, harsh words he had tossed at her during their meeting at the medicine wheel. They had to pull her out of this crisis. He prayed for a chance to make things right with her. What’s done is done, he decided. Forgiveness purges the bitter soul. They would go forward from here, not likely as a couple, but as a team working for a good life for Ned. If he was right, her condition was mostly about fever. One of his medical school professors had always preached, “treat the symptoms, and let the disease take care of itself.” Thad had always followed that precept in his veterinary practice and had come to accept it as faith.

Soon, Rachael returned. She was nearly breathless. “The tub’s ready. I got Quincy off his knees, and it didn’t take long.”

Thad stood and bent over the bed and lifted Serena’s lifeless form into his arms. In a moment they were in the kitchen where Quincy stood, looking deeply chagrined and helpless. Thad was pleased to see Elizabeth had returned. She could be helpful now. “Elizabeth, did you get the message to Miss Cavelle?”

“Yes, and she took it herself. She was off like the wind before I even started back.”

Thad had asked for Asa because he feared Kirsten, in light of her recent history, might also encounter resistance at the drugstore. On second thought, however, he shrugged off his concerns. How many men or women were tough enough to stand up to Kirsten? Damn few.

He carried Serena over to the tub. “Rachael and Elizabeth, when I let Serena down next to the tub, I need to have you help me slip her out of the nightdress and get her into the tub.”

In a few minutes Serena was submerged to her neck in the cold water. It worried him that her body did not noticeably react to the water. “Elizabeth,” he said, “would you find a washrag and just keep washing your sister’s face with the cool water? We’ll do this for about half an hour and then get her into some dry things and back in bed.”

“Yes, Doctor, I’ll do that right now.” She left the room for a few minutes, returned with a cloth and was soon kneeling next to the tub ministering to her sister. The young woman wanted to be a veterinary surgeon. She had the raw material to make a good one, he thought. Thad watched Serena’s face intently. Her eyes fluttered, and he moved next to the tub and got down on his knees for a closer look.

“I saw it, too,” Elizabeth said. “Her eyes.”

Serena’s eyes blinked several times, but that was the extent of her response. After Thad decided it was time to remove her from the tub, Rachael and Elizabeth dried Serena’s body and maneuvered her into a fresh nightdress, and then he carried her back up the stairs and returned her to the bed. He felt her forehead. Still hot, but not the raging burn. Her shivering seemed more subdued. But she stayed locked in the coma.

“Hi, Doc. I’ve got your medicine.”

Thad started at the sound of Kirsten’s voice and turned to find her only a few feet behind him. “You didn’t waste any time.”

“I rode like a bat out of hell.” She handed him a paper-wrapped bottle. “The magic potion?”

“I hope. But I can’t give it to her while she’s asleep.”

Kirsten stepped to Serena’s bedside. “My grandma was like this once. She had some kind of lung fever where she coughed and hacked and had a terrible fever, and everybody thought she was dying. I was just a little girl and I remember the family gathered around her bed and started to sing hymns to send her on a peaceful trip to the hereafter. She woke up all at once and scared the hell out of some of the singers.” Kirsten pulled a chair up next to the bed. “Any better ideas?” she asked.

Without waiting for an answer, Kirsten sat down and took Serena’s hand in hers. Thad and Rachael stepped back, but Elizabeth continued applying the wet cloth to Serena’s face and forehead. Kirsten began to sing softly and clearly, with a voice that was incredibly beautiful and so unexpected from this tough-talking rancher woman. She sang non-stop for nearly an hour, from time to time squeezing Serena’s hand as if trying to pump life into her body. Her repertoire of songs ran the gamut from “Aura Lea” and “Listen to the Mockingbird” to “Camptown Races” and an inspiring rendition of “Amazing Grace.”

And then Serena’s eyes opened slowly and she turned her head and looked at Kirsten, who still gripped her hand firmly. “Kirsten, what are you doing here?”

Kirsten smiled. “I was just running an errand for Doc here and thought I’d come by and wish you my best.”

It suddenly occurred to Thad that sometime during the singing, Serena’s chills had subsided significantly. “Rachael,” Thad said, “I need a small glass or cup.”

“I have a little cordial glass, but don’t tell Quincy. He’s a teetotaler . . . I’m not. I’ll fetch it.”

 
Thad noticed that Rachael’s mood had lightened quickly with Serena’s return to the living, but he was certain this was simply a brief cease fire in the battle ahead. He moved in next to the bed and looked down at Serena.
 

“We need to talk about your illness. Are you thinking clearly?”

“I’m a little confused about you and Kirsten being here, but I know I’ve been more or less unconscious.”

“More rather than less. I wasn’t sure you’d make it back.”

“I heard music. I thought I was in heaven.”

“Kirsten was your angel. Your mother sent for me. I’m your doctor, if you’ll let me be for a while.”

She gave a weak smile. “You did a good enough job with my ankle one time. Yeah, you can be my doctor.”

Rachael returned with a tiny glass, and Thad unwrapped the druggist’s package and pulled out a large bottle embossed with the drug store name and nearly brim-full with a clear liquid. He plucked the cork from the container and took the glass from Rachael and poured no more than an ounce. He turned back to Serena and observed the perspiration forming on her brow again. She was on the brink of another attack, he thought. With his free arm he reached down and propped her up so she could drink. “I want you to take all of this . . . just sip.”

“What is it?”

“Drink.”

She obeyed, and then he lay her back down. “We need a few more pillows. I don’t want her lying so flat. Her head and upper body should be elevated some. Now, this may make you a little drowsy, and that’s okay. It’s a good sleep. I gave you some quinine.”

“Quinine?”

“It’s a drug that’s been around for a long time. It’s processed from the bark of the Cinchona tree, generally found in South America. It’s used as an antipyretic.”

“Oh my God,” Kirsten chimed in,”how can you go wrong? You’ve got a horse doctor that uses big words.” There was a soft tittering in the room, and even Serena smiled.
 

Thad cast Kirsten an annoyed look. She never let him get too full of himself, he had to admit. “An antipyretic is a drug that fights the fever. It’s very effective, but you have to monitor the dosage and determine just how much it takes to get the results. Your fever was coming back. We’ll wait an hour and probably try some more. It’s the fever that will harm your body and, quite frankly, cause the complications that could be fatal.”

“You know something. Tell me.”

He tossed a look at Kirsten. “Anyone who doesn’t want to listen to a medical lecture, possibly with a few big words, may leave.” Nobody left.

“I don’t
know
something for sure, but I
suspect
something. I think you have malaria. The fever, the chills and the fact it goes into remission and comes back. It’s been called bilious fever, miasmal fever and any number of names. The name comes from Italian words,
mal
and
aria . . .
bad air. There were all kinds of suspected villains over the years, but about five years ago, a French physician discovered that it’s caused by a parasite in the blood.”

“Not a pleasant thought,” Serena said.

“No, I guess not. We don’t know how the parasite gets in your system, but we know that the disease has something to do with the parasites, and they apparently go through different stages and die and then come back again. That’s why you have recurrences.”

“But you can’t get the varmints out?” Kirsten asked.

“That’s the bad news. The good news, Serena, is that this isn’t a death sentence. Control the fever and you control the disease. When the symptoms start to come on, you commence taking quinine and do anything else that helps to reduce the fever. You can head off the disease before you get so ill. That doesn’t mean you won’t have some unpleasant episodes, but you can live a normal life span. I would strongly suggest taking better care of yourself . . . getting more rest and physical activity, for instance. Build up your endurance.”

Tears began streaming down Serena’s cheeks, and Rachael began to sob. Kirsten moved to embrace the ecstatic mother. Elizabeth stayed at her post with the cool washrag and water bucket.

Thad moved closer to the bed and took Serena’s hand. “You’re going to live to see Ned’s children, probably his grandchildren.”

“Yes, thanks to you. And you’re going to see them, too. I’m not changing my plans. I’ll head back to Washington as soon as I can. But I’ll be back. I promise.”

“And I’ll give you the time you asked for. Now go to sleep.”

59

M
YLES
F
RANKLIN
L
OCKE
stared at the sheaf of papers on his desk but saw nothing. His mind was disconnected from the project in front of him—a rare occurrence for a man of his discipline. But he worried about what Thaddeus had in store with the changing events in his life.

His youngest son had just left the office after seeking his counsel about the feasibility of setting up a corporation for the company town he was seeking to establish with his business partner, Kirsten Cavelle. They planned multiple business ventures on a parcel of land adjacent to a projected extension of railroad service to Randolph, lying some twenty miles north of Manhattan. Their project would lie at the midpoint between the two towns, but it would take money, and that would require other investors. Myles had explained that control of a corporation required ownership of fifty-one percent of the shares. Thad could not leverage that much ownership by himself, so he could not acquire sole voting control. He and Kirsten could probably accomplish it together, but there was risk. What if they had a falling out? What was his level of trust that they could maintain their business relationship? Myles had professed his fondness and admiration for Kirsten, but relationships change, he pointed out—sometimes for the better and not uncommonly for the worse, much worse. Regardless, they needed an escape hatch, a contract provision that would set out a mechanism for resolving differences and assuring that one could buy the interest of the other if they determined they could no longer pursue business together.

This was a huge risk for Thad, but risk-takers had built America and would continue to do so for many generations, he hoped. And he thought Thad had an extremely competent partner, but such commercial undertakings between a man and a woman were unheard of. Thad and Kirsten were indeed pioneers.