The Doctor's Lady (23 page)

Northwest of Green River Valley

E
li tried to swallow the lump in his throat—the one that had been lodged there all day. He plucked another handful of half-ripe gooseberries and added them to the pile in his hat.

His gaze strayed again to Priscilla. With her back propped against the wagon wheel, she sat unmoving in the same spot to which she’d dropped when they’d stopped to make camp for the evening.

They’d only made ten miles, not as far as they needed. But with each step away from the Rendezvous, his heart had urged him to go back and fight Squire for the baby.

He stood and brushed a sleeve against his dripping forehead.

Had he given up too easily? Could he have done more to fight against Squire? The questions had haunted him all day.

Eli’s intestines still twisted into a clump every time he thought about Squire’s underhanded attempt to lure Priscilla away from him. He had no doubt the man had wanted Priscilla and not the baby.

Even if they hadn’t been on a race against time and had the luxury of going back, he’d only have gotten himself shot, maybe even killed if he’d tried to go after the boy.

Squire was right. The baby was his. He could do whatever he wanted, and no one could find fault in that. No one could make the trapper give the child to Priscilla, even if that’s what Running Feet had wanted, even if Squire knew that the boy belonged with Priscilla and she’d provide a much better home and life for the boy than he ever could.

The trapper had gambled . . . and lost. Unfortunately, his gamble had cost Priscilla the most.

Eli should have paid attention to that place deep inside him that had warned him Priscilla had gotten too close to the baby. He should have cautioned her against getting attached.

He sighed. It was too late now for that.

With hesitant steps, he crossed toward her. He stopped in front of her, but she didn’t look up.

“You’ve got to eat something.”

Her shoulders had lost their usual poise, and she stared at the impending mountain range as though in a daze.

He knelt and held the hat out to her. “I’ve picked some gooseberries for you.”

She didn’t answer.

“They’re a little sour but still mighty good.”

Something sparked in her eyes, but she still didn’t look at him.

“I’m really sorry about the baby. I know it was hard to give him up. And I wish there was more I could have done to keep Squire from taking him.”

She pressed her lips together.

“I trusted Squire—maybe more than I should have.”

“And I trusted you more than I should have.” She spat the words.

He sat back on his heels and rubbed a hand across the scruff on his chin. “I said I’m sorry—”

“I made it abundantly clear that I wanted to keep the conditions of our marriage partnership private.” Her flashing eyes turned toward him.

“I didn’t need to say a word. He figured it out on his own.”

“You didn’t have to acknowledge his crudeness.”

“Don’t you think everyone would have found out about us eventually? Besides, don’t you get tired of pretending all the time? What’s wrong with being open about the way things really are?”

“Don’t talk to me about living openly.” Her voice was hot. “You’ve wanted to keep your past private.”

His gaze dropped to his hands, to the skeletal pattern of white scars. “Some things aren’t anybody else’s business.”

“Exactly.”

The thin lines gave way to memories . . . of peering into the dirty window, of struggling to see through the thick layer of swirling smoke, of finally seeing his pa on the bed. . . . The flames had danced higher. But the door had been locked, and no amount of pounding or slamming against it had awakened the man from his drunken stupor. In his panic, Eli had done the only thing he’d known to do—he’d smashed his hands through the window.

“This is crazy.” He pushed his hat with the gooseberries onto her lap and then stood. “You need to eat.”

She looked away.

He straightened to his full height and blew out a breath. For a long awful moment that morning, he’d almost believed she would accept Squire’s offer. And it had frightened him more than he wanted to acknowledge.

He was surprised to admit how relieved he was that she was still with him, that she’d chosen to continue. Of course, he hadn’t wanted her to go with Squire—he
wouldn’t
have let her go with the weasel. He’d vowed to keep her safe—and he’d have fought Squire to keep Priscilla from going.

But it wasn’t just for her safety that he was glad she was still with them. Could it be that he had wanted her along—truly desired for her to be there? After all his resistance to the idea of bringing a wife, what was happening to him?

And when it came right down to it, would he really be able to give her an annulment and put her on a ship back home?

Over the next two days, the terrain grew steadily steeper and rockier as they left the fertile river valley and started on a northwest course through the desert toward Fort Hall. They made twelve miles one day and fifteen the following. But they couldn’t travel fast enough or far enough to suit Kentuc.

And Eli couldn’t stop worrying either. He didn’t want to blame the women for slowing them down. Instead, he kicked the wagon.

“Maybe we should just leave the wagon behind,” he said to Richard and John as they shoved the tent into the wagon bed. In the light of the early morning, everyone was working quickly to pack so they could get a head start on the day’s travel.

The boys shrugged. It was another one of those times when he had the feeling the Indian boys thought he was a fool. And maybe he was.

He was more than ready for an excuse to give up the wagon seat for good and have a break from the constant jostling. The hired hands had ridden only as far as the Rendezvous and were returning east with the caravan. Now Eli had to drive the wagon himself. He certainly didn’t trust Henry to manage it. The paths winding up some of the steep hillsides had been narrow the day before, and the wagon had skidded too close to the edge more than once.

“Eat up, boys.” Mabel handed John and Richard their carefully rationed slices of dried buffalo meat. Priscilla followed behind, giving them both a dipper of their diminishing water supply.

Eli glanced to the pink-tinged cloudless sky. Dust had settled in the cracks of his lips and textured his tongue with grainy grit. They’d need rain soon. The longer they went without fresh water, the more they’d have to resort to using the murky pools and creeks that sufficed for their cattle but would only bring trouble to the rest of them.

“Dr. Ernest.” Mabel offered him a thin slab of the meat. The stale odor was enough to dampen any appetite, but he reached for his portion.

Just then Richard handed his slice to John. The younger brother protested, but Richard grunted his insistence before turning to grab another crate.

Eli pushed his piece back into Mabel’s hands. “Give mine to Richard.”

Mabel’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“I’ll be fine.” His stomach growled with the pangs of hunger. “I can wait until nooning.”

He turned away and reached for his bedroll. He’d have to convince Kentuc to let them stop early to hunt that evening. What good would it do them to travel hard only to grow weak from hunger and exhaustion?

“Eli?” Priscilla’s voice was soft behind him.

Was she finally forgiving him? He spun so fast he nearly tripped over his boots. She’d hardly spoken with him since they’d left the Rendezvous, and he was more than ready to see something in her eyes besides anger.

She held out the dipper. “Your turn.”

He searched her face for something, for anything that would give him the slightest hope that she didn’t hate him.

She pushed the dipper at him. Her eyes were clouded but void of the flashes of lightning.

He took the ladle and lifted it to his lips for a drink that was altogether too short. Then he handed the dipper back to her. “Thank you.”

She lowered it back into the pail. “You were kind to give Richard your portion.”

“I was holding out for pemmican.”

Her lips twitched with the beginning of a smile.

A grin of his own pushed for release, but the concern for her that had been weighing him down made its way to the surface first. “How are you—I mean—are you doing all right—without the baby?”

The clouds in her eyes darkened and any hint of a smile disappeared. “I’ll survive.” She turned and rushed to catch up with Mabel.

He watched the frayed edges of her dress swish in the dust and wanted to pound himself over the head. Why had he expected that she’d want to talk about the baby with him?

“Has anyone seen Kentuc?” Henry called.

Eli tipped up the brim of his hat and peered around the camp, noticing for the first time that Kentuc and his horse were gone. Dread pinched the back of his neck and raised the hairs there.

After only a matter of minutes, it was clear that Kentuc was nowhere in sight and had likely snuck off sometime during the dark of night.

Kentuc gone? What would they do now?

With growing despair, Eli stared ahead at the rocky hills spotted with sage and gnarled yellowed brush. The ground was riddled with cracks like a maze of dry capillaries.

How could they possibly navigate through the wilderness without a guide? As much as he wanted to manage without help, he knew he’d be a fool to risk it. They’d get lost, run out of food, and chance danger at the hands of the elements and hostile Blackfeet.

“Guess we’ll need to turn around, head back to the Rendezvous,” he said, “and look for another guide.” That meant he’d have to take the wagon back along the treacherous paths they’d already crossed. And worse than that, they’d lose precious time.

“What if everyone is gone by the time we get back to Green River?” Henry asked.

“We’ll have to push hard to make it and pray there are a few stragglers left who can help us.”

“And waste days of travel time.” Accusation laced Henry’s voice.

Eli could only shake his head. “I’m just as upset as you.”

“But you’re the one who insisted we hire Kentuc and travel this way. We should have taken the offer of the Nez Perce chiefs to travel with them as I’d suggested.”

“How was I to know that something would happen to Kentuc?”

“We knew it was the riskier option.” Henry brushed the dust off his trousers.

Eli pressed his hand against his chest, against Parker’s crinkled letter tucked in the pocket inside his vest. He’d tried to decipher it several times without any luck. At medical school he’d had a hard enough time keeping the printed words in his textbooks from getting twisted around. Dr. Baldwin had assisted him, but mostly he’d had to rely upon his own hard-earned efforts.

And the scrawled, messy handwriting in the letter made reading—already difficult—impossible.

He’d taken the letter out on several occasions, ready to hand it over to Henry, but he’d only had to imagine the humiliation he’d suffer, and he’d tucked it back into his pocket.

But what if he’d made a life-threatening mistake? What if in all his efforts to shoulder everything on his own, he’d put Priscilla’s life—all of their lives—in the greatest danger yet?

He glanced to where she stood next to Mabel. She trusted him to keep her safe. His heart constricted with new fear. After keeping her alive this long, he couldn’t let his pride be the cause of her demise.

He pulled out the letter. “Here.” He held it out.

Henry arched his brow.

“Take it.” He needed Henry to grab it before he lost his resolve.

“What is it?”

“Just read it.”

Henry took the paper and unfolded it. “It’s from Parker.”

Mabel gasped.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d gotten a letter from him?” Henry asked.

“Kentuc gave it to me.”

“You’ve had this all along and you didn’t share it with me?”

Eli nodded.

“I thought we were a team, working together. I thought I could trust you.” Henry’s voice was laced with disappointment. “Now I find out you’ve been holding back information?”

“I’m sorry, Henry. I only did it because—because I couldn’t read the letter.”

“You couldn’t read the letter?”

Eli stiffened and prepared himself for the humiliation that was sure to come.

Henry flapped open the sheet and began to read. “‘Dr. Ernest, I regret to inform you that after nearly two years away from home, I am inclined to return . . .’” Henry paused and slanted a gaze at Eli. “It appears perfectly legible to me. What about the letter couldn’t you read?”

“Reading is sometimes difficult for me.” He had to choke the words out and was more than ready for the conversation to be over.

“Do you need spectacles, Doctor?”

“No.”

Henry stared at him for a long moment.

“Just read the letter,” Eli growled, “and tell us what it says.” He swallowed the bitterness of having to rely upon someone else. But at this point, he had no other choice.

Henry bent his head over the letter for a few minutes and read silently. The camp grew so quiet that they could’ve heard Eli’s stammering heartbeat if they’d listened closely enough.