The Doctor's Lady (20 page)

The pained lines in Running Feet’s face had disappeared. With her eyes closed and her breathing calmer than it had been in days, Priscilla wanted to believe the woman was merely asleep.

But when Running Feet’s eyes opened and fixed on her, a shiver of fear prickled Priscilla’s skin. She grasped the cloth in the washbasin, wrung it out, and pressed it against Running Feet’s forehead.

Eli burst into the room, crossed to the bed, and knelt next to her. He reached for Running Feet’s wrist, his fingers ready to check her pulse.

The woman pulled away from Eli and instead grabbed Priscilla’s hand. “I go now.”

Priscilla shook her head. “No. You’re getting better.”

The woman’s grip tightened. “I go.” Running Feet’s words were softer. “You keep promise.”

She took Priscilla’s hand and placed it on David’s head. Then she moved her own hand on top of Priscilla’s.

The silkiness of David’s hair and the warmth of his baby skin roused the longing deep inside of her. Did she dare think—hope—this sweet baby could be hers?

“Promise.” The breathless word out of Running Feet’s mouth was not a question.

Priscilla met the woman’s gaze.

The dark hollowness was fading. Her grip was weakening.

“Promise,” she whispered again.

Sudden tears burned in Priscilla’s eyes. “I promise.”

Running Feet gave an imperceptible nod and then closed her eyes.

Eli reached for his medical kit and began unraveling it. “This isn’t looking good,” he mumbled.

“Can you save her, Doc?” Squire stopped his pacing to stare at Running Feet.

“I’ll try bleeding her again.”

Running Feet’s hand on top of hers grew heavy.

David squirmed.

At the slight movement, Running Feet’s hand fell off of hers and slid into an awkward angle against the mattress.

Priscilla’s body tensed.

David’s eyes flashed open, and he gave a loud whimper.

Eli rummaged through his case. “I can’t think of anything more to do to help her. We’ve already tried everything.”

Priscilla tried to speak but couldn’t get words past the ache in her throat. Instead she laid her hand on Eli’s arm.

His gaze jerked to the Indian woman. In an instant his shoulders drooped, and he let the scalpel slip from his fingers. “I’m sorry, Squire.”

The big man stared at Running Feet’s face. He ran a hand down the length of his long beard.

She waited for a flicker of emotion to cross his features, for sorrow to pool in his eyes. But he spun toward the door and stalked from the room without a word.

As much as she disliked Squire, she couldn’t prevent an ache from rolling down her throat into her chest. Had he loved Running Feet? Surely he would grieve her loss in his heart, even if he didn’t express it.

David’s whimper changed into a wail. He pushed himself up and held his arms toward Priscilla.

She reached for him and he leaned into her embrace, eager for her—almost as if he’d heard the promise she’d just made to his mother. “Oh, you poor, sweet motherless baby.” He’d lost the most important person in his life, the woman who’d loved him more than anyone else.

Priscilla swallowed past the tightness in her throat. Could she really take this child as her own? What hope did David have to survive now, unless she kept her word to Running Feet?

She wrapped her arms around him in a fierce embrace.

His cries faded, and he curled against her.

She kissed the top of his head and rested her chin there. Would her heart and arms ever widen enough to make a home for this child?

July 4, 1836
Continental Divide

M
rs. Doc! Mrs. Doc!” The excitement in Richard’s voice roused her.

Even with both ends of the covered wagon open, the faint breeze could not find its way under the canvas dome. The heat, along with the bumping and rocking, had lulled her to a drowsy half sleep.

Richard’s voice propelled her up, and she realized they’d stopped.

Her fingers grazed the rounded cheek of the baby next to her. He stirred, his skin hot to her touch. His hair stuck to his forehead, and she combed it back.

His lips puckered in his sleep, and he sighed softly.

Her heart squeezed with a new protectiveness, a realization that she’d do anything to keep David safe and content.

She turned to peer out the back of the wagon to the same landscape they’d had for days—broad, gently sloping hills covered with dry sage and yellowed weeds growing from the hard-packed earth.

The blue sky against the eastern horizon was broken only by the gentle puffs of a scattering of clouds.

It was hard to believe it had been only four months since she’d left home—it felt like four years. And in the scorching heat of July, the frigidness of the early part of their trip was like a distant dream.

“Mrs. Doc!” Richard bounded up the end of the wagon. His wide smile greeted her, and his ebony eyes glowed. “Come see.”

“Why have we stopped?” She reached for David, ready to wake him to take advantage of any opportunity to get out of the wagon. After they’d buried Running Feet and left Fort William a week ago, she’d had no choice but to travel in the confines of the wagon with the baby. She wasn’t adept in wearing the cradleboard and riding a horse the way Running Feet had been.

Even though Mabel had offered to share in the care of the infant, Priscilla hadn’t wanted to relinquish him. She kept him with her all the time, and thankfully no one had questioned her, not even Black Squire. From what she could tell, he’d lost all interest in the baby the day Running Feet had died. At least she hoped so.

David’s eyes opened. At the sight of Priscilla’s face, he gave her a slow, sleepy smile.

Her heart dipped, and she smiled back. “There he is. My little sunshine.”

His smile widened, and he held out his arms to her.

She lifted him and breathed in the sweetness of his baby skin. The breath she exhaled left her with a new and strange contentment.

Richard helped her down from the wagon and steadied her as her feet touched the ground. “Mrs. Doc make good mother.” He tousled David’s hair.

The baby giggled.

“Thank you, Richard.” She tickled the baby’s belly and earned another giggle. The soft sound bubbled through her heart, making it float.

“David like you.”

“He’s a sweet baby.”

Richard’s eyes were round with admiration. “Mrs. Doc mother to many children—some day.”

Her heart rolled over and then toppled to a crashing fall inside her stomach. “No. Actually, I won’t be a mother to many.”

She dropped her chin to stare at the brittle sagebrush, which had become their staple fuel on the barren plains in their endless travel to reach the Rendezvous.

Richard was silent for a moment. “Doc no give Mrs. Doc children?”

She gasped, and mortification spilled over her. Had he figured out that Eli wasn’t her husband in the truest sense of the word? Eli had taken to sleeping outside the tent at night, telling everyone that he liked sleeping in the open under the stars.

But Priscilla knew differently, and she had the feeling Henry did too. But she’d prayed no one else would suspect the true nature of her relationship with Eli.

“Hurry, Sister Ernest, hurry.” Mabel’s call came from the front of the wagon.

“What is it?”

Priscilla hefted David onto her hip and started toward the others who had congregated at the front of the wagons.

“Come celebrate with us, Sister Ernest.” Mabel rushed toward her, her pale face alight with a smile. Even though the dried buffalo meat made Mabel weak and sick, her stomach continued to swell with her growing child. “We’ve officially crossed the Continental Divide through South Pass.”

“We have?” Priscilla peered over the rolling hills. Nothing had changed. The same dry brush and dusty earth stretched before them. This was it? The history-making moment? The event Mother had believed would make her the most important woman of her generation? Had she and Mabel truly now become the first white women to travel overland this far west?

Mabel threw her arms around Priscilla and squeezed her in a hug. “Congratulations, my dear.”

David squealed with delight.

Priscilla pulled back. “This is it? Really? I thought the Continental Divide would be high in the Rocky Mountains, in some narrow, snowy pass.”

Mabel chuckled. “Believe it or not, this is it. When the trappers discovered this low valley through the Rockies, it was a miracle crossing compared to the dangerous passes they’d had to travel previously.”

Priscilla took a deep breath of the hot, dry air and let her gaze drift with growing satisfaction. Far in the distance to the north and the south, the hills of the Rocky Mountains rose up. “We’re indeed getting the adventure of a lifetime, aren’t we, Sister Spalding?”

For a long moment they stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing to the west. Priscilla slipped her arm through Mabel’s. “I couldn’t have asked the Lord for a better woman to share these adventures with.”

Mabel patted her hand. “Me either, dear.”

Henry motioned to them. “Let’s gather together for a prayer. On this fourth day of July, we have much for which to give thanks.”

Priscilla joined the circle and found herself jostled next to Eli. He grinned like the others, and for the first time, his forehead was void of the anxious grooves that had cut deeper with each step of their journey.

Every day brought them nearer to the Green River and the Rendezvous. They were close enough that two days ago Captain Fitzpatrick had sent out a man to ride ahead of them and alert the camp that they were almost there.

Of course, the Green River Valley was only their halfway point in the overland part of the journey. There they would meet Samuel Parker, who would lead them the rest of the way, with the hope of guiding them into Oregon Country by September, before the mountain passes in eastern Oregon became impassable with the first snowfall.

Even so, with all the obstacles they’d overcome so far, she didn’t begrudge Eli his joy. If not for his hard work and determination, they wouldn’t have made it nearly as far as they had.

Mabel intertwined her hand with Henry’s and gave him a wide smile. Henry returned the smile.

Priscilla’s heart pinched with a shard of jealousy. It wasn’t that she wished she was married to Henry. Compared to the rugged, vibrant Eli, Henry was only a shadow. Rather, she was envious of Henry’s relationship with Mabel—the way he showered her with affection. She wished that Eli might do the same with her.

She glanced sideways at Eli, to the excitement sparkling in his eyes, knowing he was thinking of the mission and the plans he had for it. If only she could share the excitement of the moment with him, hold his hand, and have him direct one of his smiles at her.

“Let’s bow our heads,” Henry said, taking off his hat.

Eli and the other men followed suit.

And she swallowed her longings, reprimanding herself. She would only get hurt again if she didn’t guard her heart more carefully.

Eli sank his teeth into the juicy flesh of the roasted prairie hen and savored the sweet tenderness, a fine change from the endless days of buffalo meat.

The first shadows of twilight had settled over their camp, and he rested his back against a crate.

They’d made good progress out of South Pass after crossing over the Continental Divide. Only twenty miles later they’d found a fertile camp along the Pacific Springs. From now on, all the rivers would flow west, leading them to their new home and eventually to the Pacific Ocean.

He let his gaze linger upon the wide open sky and the peaks of the Wind River Mountain Range on the horizon. The majesty of it was a feast to his hungry soul. Anticipation burned through him. Each day brought them one step closer to the West and the Nez Perce. If they continued to make good timing, he’d be able to get a home built before winter and make a room for a clinic.

Of course he planned to visit the Nez Perce at their winter camps too. But he already had sketched a diagram of the house in his mind. Nothing fancy. But still a place where he could meet with the Indians.

He took a deep breath of the warm, smoky air. The chatter of the others around the campfire was soft, almost as if everyone was overcome with the same awe.

Priscilla spoke in hushed tones with Mabel, drinking in the view of the mountains in the distance. The sparkle in her eyes reflected the exhilaration rushing through his blood.

As much as he wanted to deny his longing, he couldn’t. He wanted to sit next to her and share the thrilling moment together. He’d worked to keep his distance, but he missed hearing her curious questions and seeing the wonder in her face at each new stretch of their journey.

He tore another chunk of meat from the bone.

Suddenly the distant whoop of Indian cries and the crack of gunfire echoed in the evening air.

Eli scrambled to his feet and grabbed his rifle. His heart slammed into his ribs. Were the Blackfeet attacking? They were a vicious, warring tribe that inhabited the area to the north. Trappers captured by the Blackfeet were lucky to escape alive. Once, they’d set trapper John Colter free, but only because they’d wanted to hunt him down like an animal. They’d stripped him naked, took all his possessions and weapons, and then chased after him in a human hunt. Colter had survived the deadly game. But barely.

Eli didn’t want to begin to think about what the Blackfeet would do to the women if they captured them. The pounding of horses’ hooves drew nearer, and the gunshots grew louder. The Indian calls were shrill and sent chills over his hot skin.

He started toward Black Squire’s campfire. “Stay here and protect the women,” he called to Henry.

“Where are you going?” Henry shouldered his rifle.

“Just watch over the women,” Eli shouted.

He trotted toward Squire, who wielded a long knife in one hand and his gun in the other. “Take aim!” he roared to the others who’d gathered around him.

Eli lifted his rifle and stared down the long barrel.

The horses were galloping full speed at them, kicking up the dust into swirling clouds.

He cocked his head and closed one eye, getting an Indian into his line of vision. Setting his jaw with cold determination, he fingered the trigger. He was a doctor and wanted to save lives. And he’d wanted to befriend the natives, to be God’s voice of hope and peace. But at that moment he wanted nothing more than to take down anyone who dared to threaten his camp.

“Wait!” one of the trappers shouted. “One of ’em has a white flag on his gun.”

“Hold your fire!” Squire yelled.

Eli kept his gun trained on the Indian at whom he’d taken aim.

When they reared their horses in front of the caravan, Squire spat on the ground and swore. Then he grinned. “Tackensuatis.”

The lead Indian jumped off his horse.

He spoke to Squire in the Nez Perce language.

Squire replied in the brave’s native tongue, but they spoke too fast for Eli to understand.

John and Richard lowered their guns and smiled.

Another Indian dismounted and started toward Eli. The smooth face of the brave was a familiar one. “Kentuc?” Eli relaxed his hold on his gun.

The tall Nez Perce brave grinned.

The tension eased from Eli’s shoulders, and he chanced a smile.

“It’s good to see you.” He nodded at Kentuc, the strong, stealthy young man he’d met on the journey west last summer. “Where’s Parker?”

Kentuc shot off a stream of words in his native language.

Eli glanced beyond the Indian to the others, more braves and a few women. “John.” Eli nodded at the boy. “Come translate for me.”

The young Indian boy trotted over to him.

“Ask him about Parker,” Eli said.

John nodded and then conversed with Kentuc. The brave shrugged his shoulders and pointed toward the west.

Eli watched the exchange, picking up only a few words of their conversation. His body tensed. “What happened?”

“Kentuc at Rendezvous,” John explained. “Come to meet us here. Excited to see white women.”

“But where is Parker? Ask him to tell us where Parker is.”

Kentuc stared beyond the trappers to the missionary camp.

John spoke to him again.

Kentuc finally spoke in English. “Parker go home.”

Eli’s heart skidded to a halt. “When? Why?” He looked to John for the translation.

“He left after thaw for Fort Vancouver,” John said. “He sail home by sea.”

Eli’s mind reeled, and for a moment he couldn’t comprehend the news.

Kentuc dug into a leather pouch at his hip and pulled out a wrinkled letter. “From Parker.”

Eli took the sheet and scrambled to make sense of what had happened. Parker had left and was returning to the States by sailing around the continent.