The Doctor's Lady (25 page)

Finally, they spotted the log stockade of Snake Fort in the distance on the northern side of the Snake River, not far from the mouth of the Boise River.

The weary travelers gave a cheerful cry, but Eli stared ahead and forced back the sudden swell of grateful relief that stung his eyes.

With each passing day in the hot wagon, Priscilla had wilted into a drooping flower. She didn’t eat enough and continued to have recurring stomach pain.

To make the situation worse, one of the axles had cracked. Thankfully, for the past day their route had been more level, over sandy plains. But he knew it was just a matter of time before the axle gave way altogether.

He glanced over his shoulder to the wagon bed, where Priscilla was reclining in the shade of the canvas covering.

He’d hoped that once they reached the fort, she would have a few days to recuperate and that he’d be able to fix the wagon. McLeod had been more considerate than Squire had ever been. Eli prayed the man’s goodwill would hold out awhile longer.

He nodded to Richard, riding silently behind the wagon. But the boy glanced into the distance and refused to meet his gaze. Richard hadn’t talked to him since the day they’d dug the hole in the ground and put John into it.

Pain sat with guilt on Eli’s shoulder and whispered into his ear. Why had he let John die? Could he have done more to save the boy’s life? Could he have tried harder?

“Welcome, welcome.” A short, well-dressed man with a British accent called to them.

“Got a spare room for a couple of ladies?” McLeod asked as he swung down from his mount and shook the man’s hand.

“Ladies?”
The man’s eyes combed eagerly over the weary travelers. “You have real ladies?”

Eli jumped from the wagon seat and made his way to the back. Priscilla was already attempting to climb out. “Hang on. I’ll get you.” He reached for her, and she batted his hands away.

“I can do this myself.” But he could see she hardly had the strength to stand, let alone climb out of the wagon. He steadied her as her feet touched the ground.

She’d forgotten to pull up her bonnet, and the heat had plastered strands of damp hair to her forehead.

“Looks like the owner of this fort is a fancy English gentleman,” Eli said, tapping her bonnet.

She fumbled for it and situated it over her hair, tucking loose strands out of sight. Then she brushed at the helplessly dusty folds of her skirt. “I’m a mess. Completely and utterly filthy. I’m in no condition to meet someone who’s civilized.”

He usually didn’t care a whole lot about his own appearance, but he had to admit he was more than ready for a dip in the nearby Big Wood River. “We’re all filthy.”

She gave a huff. “You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

He couldn’t hold back his grin. “I guess I should have said you look like a queen about to enter her castle?”

She wiped her sleeve over her face as if she could somehow free it from the grime. But she only managed to add to the streaks smudged on her cheeks.

“The truth is, no matter how dirty you get, nothing can hide how pretty you are.” He rubbed his thumb against one of the smudges.

At his touch, she sucked in her breath and took a step back. She swayed and reached out to grab the wagon.

He didn’t bother asking for permission to help her. Instead, he scooped her into his arms like a baby.

“Put me down.” Her voice was weak. “You know how much I dislike causing a scene.”

“And you know how much I like making them.”

He was relieved when she didn’t fight him. Instead, she gave a soft, almost contented sigh.

When Mr. Kay introduced himself and fawned over her, she could only manage a weak smile. Eli carried her and followed Mr. Kay upstairs, where he settled her on the bed in one of the cool windowless rooms.

The buildings were made of hewed logs, and the roofs and chimneys were covered with mud bricks. The fort wasn’t anything fancy, but it was a break from the blazing desert heat and the constant motion of the wagon. If he could convince McLeod to let them stay for a few days, Priscilla would have a chance to get stronger before they moved on.

Mr. Kay brought the ladies bread, stewed serviceberries, and tea. “I hope you don’t mind if I watch them enjoy the luxury,” he said, settling himself beside Priscilla’s bed on one of the stools.

Mabel sat on the other stool, and Eli leaned against the wall near the door. The bright sunshine spilling in the doorway provided the room’s only light, enough that he could see the way Mr. Kay was eyeing Priscilla. He wished the man would just go about his business. But flour was a rare commodity and had likely been brought in from Fort Vancouver. How could he refuse Mr. Kay when he was sacrificing of his provisions and providing such important sustenance to the women?

“Thank you, Mr. Kay.” Eli pushed aside his pride. “You’re kind to share this food.”

“If only I could teach the staff to make the bread right.” Mr. Kay smiled at Priscilla. “They’re mixing it with water and frying it in buffalo grease.”

“It’s the best bread I can remember ever eating.” Mabel took another bite.

Eli’s stomach growled. It had been too long since all of them had enjoyed a decent meal.

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything from our vegetable garden,” Mr. Kay continued. “When I built the fort two years ago, I hired Hawaiians from the western coast to help me. We finally attempted the garden and cornfield this spring. But there was not a man among us who knew what we were doing. The corn did well until a frost in early June completely prostrated it.”

Mabel and Priscilla gave appropriate murmurs.

“So you see, that’s why I need to get married.” His voice was playful. “We men are good for nothing without wives to order us around.”

Soft laughter followed his statement.

Jealousy pricked Eli’s spine, and he straightened. How had Mr. Kay managed to tease a laugh from Priscilla? And why? Was he planning to try to steal her away from him the same way Squire had?

“Not only are we men completely inept without women, we’re also absolute bores.” Mr. Kay winked at Priscilla. “I do believe we have quite forgotten how to have any fun.”

Eli’s muscles tightened with the urge to pick Mr. Kay up by his trousers and boot him out of the room. The man was flirting with his wife, in broad view of him, likely knowing that there was no way Eli would chastise him and chance losing the food he was sharing.

“I know just the thing for you,” Mabel chimed in. “We shall have Sister Ernest sing for us. She has the most beautiful singing voice you’ve ever heard.”

Priscilla gave a soft gasp of protest.

Mr. Kay smiled. “How absolutely delightful. I can’t imagine anything I’d like to hear more.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Please indulge me.” Mr. Kay reached for one of her hands and took it between his. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve enjoyed the company of two lovely ladies.”

Eli started forward. How dare the man touch his wife?

She quickly pulled her hand away, but a pink blush blossomed in her thin, pale cheeks.

“She’s too weak,” Eli said in a hard voice, holding himself back. “She needs her rest—”

“Actually”—Priscilla’s eyes flashed with a sudden spark—“I would love to sing for you, Mr. Kay.”

Eli settled his shoulder back against the doorframe.

She sat quietly for a moment and then began singing “O God Our Help in Ages Past.”

Her voice was soft at first. But by the second stanza, it rose until the sweet song filtered into every pore of his skin, seeped into his blood, and pulsed through his body.

As with her smile, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her sing. He watched her lips form the words and had the deep overwhelming need to see her smile again—but this time at him.

When was the last time she’d given one to him?

Now, watching her with Mr. Kay, he realized he loathed the thought of her smiling at any other man but him. The very thought of her in any other man’s arms stirred him to something akin to fear.

He couldn’t deny that he wanted her for himself.

And he couldn’t deny that during the days and nights of trying to save her life, the panic that had driven him had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced before—especially after he’d lost John. In all his years of tending to patients, he’d been able to distance himself, to know that death was just an inevitable part of the process of doctoring.

But with her, a quiet desperation had plagued him, and still did.

“Beautiful,” Mr. Kay murmured at the last strains of her song.

Eli clamped his mouth shut to keep from saying something he’d regret.

“Will you sing another?” Mr. Kay asked. “Please?”

“Hate to break up the lovely singing,” McLeod said from behind Eli, “but I’m thinking we all have some serious talking to do.”

Eli stepped aside. As McLeod strode into the small room, dread coiled in the pit of Eli’s stomach.

“Two days,” Eli started quickly. “Give us two days to rest here at the fort. And we’ll be ready.” But even as he said the words, deep inside he knew they couldn’t afford two days.

“I’m sorry, Doc.” McLeod leaned against the wall. “We can’t delay. Not even one day. We’re behind where we need to be, and the wagon has slowed us down even more.”

“I’m gonna need a little time to fix the axle—”

“Probably isn’t worth fixing at this point. Once we cross into the Blue Mountains, you’d have to leave the wagon behind anyhow. The trail would be impassable for it.”

“And what will we do with our supplies?”

“You’ll have to pack what you absolutely need onto your mules and leave the rest.”

The women gasped.

What would they be able to do without? Clothes? Blankets? The tent? The cooking utensils? Priscilla’s trunk?

“And you may want to consider leaving behind your weakest cattle,” McLeod continued. “Trade for them now while you have the chance.”

Eli’s shoulders slumped. “But what about Priscilla? We need the wagon for her. She’s not strong enough to travel by horse yet.”

A shadow fell across McLeod’s face. “Mr. Kay told me she could stay at the fort until she recovers.”

Mr. Kay’s head bobbed up and down. “It would be my pleasure to shelter Mrs. Ernest until she’s sufficiently recuperated.”

McLeod leveled Eli an honest look. “You know as well as I do, she’d have to spend the winter here. Then late spring or early summer, once the trails in the Blue Mountains are passable, you could come get her.”

Eli couldn’t get a breath past the constriction of his chest. How could he leave Priscilla here that long? But how could he transport her without the wagon? She wasn’t strong enough to ride alone. He could have her ride in front of him, but how long would his horse be able to withstand the extra weight before growing too weary?

“I’m sorry, Doc.” McLeod’s eyes radiated regret. “We’ve got about two hundred fifty miles to go to Fort Walla Walla. We can’t jeopardize the safety of the whole group for one person.”

Eli didn’t dare look at Priscilla. Even if he figured out a way to take her, she’d still slow them down, and he’d end up putting everyone in danger, including her. He rubbed a hand across his mouth and chin. “I’m gonna need some time to think on all this—”

“I don’t need time.” Priscilla’s voice rang clear and decisive in the small room. “I’ve already made up my mind. I’m going to stay at Snake Fort.”

I
’m staying.” Priscilla folded her hands in her lap.

“Let’s not rush into a decision.” Eli shoved away from the wall. “Listen, everybody. Give me and Priscilla a few minutes to talk this through.”

She leaned her head back against the cool adobe wall and closed her eyes. She’d made up her mind. And now her heart ached as much as her tired head.

Within a few moments, everyone left the room. It grew so quiet she began to wonder if Eli had departed with them. But then his boots clunked across the floor, the stool scraped next to the bed, and he gave a long sigh as he lowered himself.

She waited for him to say something—anything. But he sat silently.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that he’d taken off his hat, rested his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.

Her heart pinched. Was this decision hard for him? She would have guessed that he’d rejoice over the opportunity to be rid of her, especially now that she was slowing him down so much.

His scraggly hair fell across his forehead, and she wanted to smooth it back, to tell him she finally understood, and that everything would be all right. God’s call upon him was strong. She’d witnessed his love for the natives, his heartbreak over losing John, his skill in doctoring people, and his determination in leading them. He wasn’t perfect, but he was
the perfect man
for the job of starting the mission in the West.

“You must go on without me,” she said softly. “You have to make it all the way. The Indians need you. Need your doctoring. Need the gospel. Besides, you can build the house you told me about. And then in the spring, everything will be ready for my coming.”

He lifted his head, revealing the turbulent storm raging inside him.

“I don’t want to be the cause of your failure to fulfill your dreams and plans. I want you to make it and to do all that God has called you to do.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, as if trying to peer into her soul and test the truth of her words.

“I can wait here.” She tentatively reached her fingers toward the hair hanging above his eyes. “This mission was your dream. You’ve worked so hard to accomplish it. And I want you to succeed.” She brushed her fingers through his strands and tried to push aside her doubts—doubts about her own calling and purpose.

When she eventually made it over the Blue Mountains in the spring, if Eli decided to send her home, God could still use her
anywhere.
Wasn’t that what she’d told herself so many months ago when she’d made the decision to come?

“I swore to protect you, and if I leave you here . . .” He groaned and reached for her hand with both of his. He cupped her fingers against his cheek and buried his face again, this time against her hand.

The scruff of his unshaven skin tickled her palm, and the warmth of his breath caressed the pulse in her wrist. Her heart squeezed with the sudden knowledge of how much she would miss him, how much she wanted to be with him.

“Oh, Priscilla,” he whispered, sliding her hand to his mouth and pressing his lips into the soft spot in the middle of her palm.

The heat of his touch shimmied over her skin, making her suddenly hot with the longing for him to press his lips somewhere else instead.

But with a growl, he let go of her and pushed away from the bed. He stood and the stool hit the floor with a clatter. “You’re coming with me.” He towered over her.

Her heart stopped beating.

“I won’t leave you behind.” His expression hardened. “We’ve come this far, and we’re not giving up now.”

She couldn’t breathe.

He spun away and stalked to the door. “I don’t care what anyone else says. You’re coming with me. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.”

“Time to march!” McLeod’s voice came from the head of the caravan the next morning.

Against the outer stockade wall, Priscilla leaned against Mabel, hardly able to hold herself upright.

The early morning air had only a hint of coolness that would evaporate once the scorching August sun rose higher.

Eli strapped a bundle to the back of one of the mules.

She glanced to the other animals and the mounds piled upon each of them, and her heart lurched. How would she travel without the wagon? And where was her trunk?

Mr. Kay strode through the stockade gate and approached them. “You don’t mean to leave without saying good-bye, do you?”

“Oh, Mr. Kay,” Mabel said, “we can’t thank you enough for your gracious hospitality.”

“It’s been my great pleasure.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Eli crossing toward them.

“If you change your mind, you are always welcome here,” Mr. Kay said. “It would be an absolute delight to have you stay with us as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” Priscilla murmured. “You’re too kind.” Should she insist on staying? Eli had said he’d wanted her to go. But how could she go, knowing she would slow the group down and quite possibly put them in danger?

“Are you ready?” Eli asked as he reached her side.

She hesitated.

Mr. Kay straightened the brim of his hat. “I was just urging Mrs. Ernest to stay here at the fort until she is stronger.”

“Perhaps it’s for the best. . . .” Priscilla said weakly.

“I was thinking you could try riding your horse for a while. Until you get tired.” Eli reached for her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “We’ll get along all right.”

Did he mean it?

She looked deep into his eyes. The blue was clear and true all the way to the bottom of his heart.

“When you get tired, you can ride with me.”

“We’ll all help you, Sister Ernest,” Mabel added.

The braying of the animals and the calls of McLeod’s trappers floated around her.

She swallowed the protest she knew she should utter and allowed Eli to lead her toward her horse.

“And where is my trunk?” she asked as he assisted her into her saddle.

For a long moment he didn’t move. Then finally he shifted his gaze to their abandoned wagon, perched at an angle in the dry grass. Her trunk sat next to it, open and empty.

“Then we must leave my trunk here?” she asked, her voice wobbling.

“I packed your wearing apparel, writing desk, and other personal items in a bundle—”

“I had hoped we could find a way to transport it.”

“We can’t carry it any further.”

“But it belonged to my sister.” Her chest constricted. “I hate to discard something I treasure like it’s a piece of garbage.”

“At this point, there are other things that are more critical to our survival—like food.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Priscilla. This is as far as it’s coming.”

Quick tears pooled in her eyes, and she shifted in her saddle so she didn’t have to look at him. He cleared his throat as if he would say something more. But then he gave a soft sigh and left her alone.

Through blurry eyes, she glanced to the deserted chest. The spiraling pattern of brass dots stared back at her, dull from the dust of their travel.

It was silly, she knew, to get so sad over a trunk. But she hadn’t been able to bring much from home in the first place. And now she was losing the little she had, the last connection to her family and home.

Losing David had been hard enough. And then John. And now this too?

Ahead of her, Henry helped Mabel onto her horse. He situated her carefully, as if she would break, his attention fixed upon her rounded belly.

If only Priscilla had the hope of having a family of her own, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much to sever the last ties to the family she’d left behind.

Priscilla shifted to face the Indian tepees scattered around the stockade and willed her eyes to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. All the while she reminded herself that following God’s calling wasn’t supposed to be easy. In fact, it was turning out to be excruciatingly difficult.

She tried to hold her head high, but by midmorning she could hardly keep from sliding off her horse in exhaustion. When they stopped beside the Snake River to prepare for the crossing, she was beyond ready for a break.

Among the rushes, they discovered a canoe made of sticks and willows that the local Indians used for fishing. She squeezed into it next to Mabel. Richard, on horseback, towed them over with ropes attached to the canoe. With his somber face and stooped shoulders, she could only guess how much he was missing his brother.

After all the river crossings they’d made, Priscilla had shed her fear of the water. But relief overwhelmed her when they made it to the other side and she was finally able to lower herself into the shade of a boulder and lean her head back.

Mabel plopped down next to her. “Our bundles will all be wet after this crossing.”

Priscilla couldn’t find the strength to care or the ability to offer a word of comfort to Richard before he plunged into the river to collect the cows to drive them across next. Henry and Eli had finished tying their goods to the tallest horses and had waded in.

“I suppose it was a good thing I had to leave most of my books behind at the fort,” Mabel said, her voice wistful. “They’ve been wet one too many times. I’m sure this crossing would have been their ruination.”

Priscilla closed her eyes against the thought of her trunk, discarded and alone, left for the ravaging of the Indians.

“Dr. Ernest tried to secure your trunk on the back of one of the mules,” Mabel said, as if reading her mind.

Priscilla sat up and stared at Eli. “He did?” With his battered hat pulled low, he drove his horse and the mules into the rushing water.

“I’ve never seen him so frustrated,” Mabel continued. “He was determined to bring it along, but he couldn’t get it strapped tightly enough, and Mr. McLeod insisted he leave it with the wagon.”

The angry snorting and braying of the mules rose above the rushing of the water. Eli rode behind them, driving them with the flick of his whip. Priscilla’s heart gave a funny dip.

“You’re blessed,” Mabel said. “Dr. Ernest made arrangements with Mr. Kay to keep the trunk until he could come back for it.”

“He never made mention of it to me.”

“I heard him speaking to Mr. Kay about it before we left.”

Her heart dipped again, this time deeper. She couldn’t fault him for his kindness to her.

Priscilla watched Eli’s shirt strain across his shoulders and noticed the gaping hole at one of the shoulder seams. Perhaps she should offer to mend it for him after they made camp.

At the tickle upon the back of her neck, she scratched her skin, only to find two fleas on her hand. A shiver of disgust shimmied up her back.

“Ouch!” Mabel slapped at her ear.

Priscilla glanced at her lap and recoiled. Thousands of black dots were swarming over her skirt. They skittered into the folds of the linen and made haste for the bare flesh of her hands and wrists.

She jumped to her feet and screamed. Frantic, she brushed at the fleas. They clung to her and laid siege to her neck and ears.

Mabel was on her feet beating her dress and stomping like an Indian woman doing a war dance.

Priscilla screamed again and this time couldn’t stop. She slapped at her neck and her face, but the creatures swarmed over her.

She fought them off her skin, her screams growing shriller. This was it. She was going to die, devoured by fleas.

“What’s wrong?” Dripping and breathless, Eli stumbled before her.

She couldn’t speak.

“Oh! You sat in a colony of fleas.” He wiped the water out of his eyes and swatted at the biting insects teeming over her.

He brushed at her skirt and arms and neck.

Eli dragged her toward the river away from the fleas, and Henry did the same with Mabel.

“It’s okay,” Eli said, trying to soothe her.

Everything around her spun in a dizzying haze. “I’m not suitable for the West.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please, just take me back to Snake Fort. I don’t want to go on.”

She was so tired, and her heart couldn’t hold another disappointment. It was too full of pain for one more thing. Why would God allow her to suffer more, after everything she’d already borne?

Eli brushed as fast as he could. “We’ll make it, Priscilla. Just wait and see.” His breath was ragged.

She shook her head. Surely she’d been mistaken to think God had wanted her to make the trip. And Eli had warned her, tried to tell her a lady like her wouldn’t survive. “You were right all along. I’m too weak. I’m not made for this.”

“No. Don’t say that.” His hands smoothed over her neck and ears.

“I shouldn’t have come.” She beat against her skirt. “And now I just want to go home. If I ever make it to Oregon Country, you can put me on the first ship. You can give me an annulment. And I won’t care.”

Her world unraveled before her, and she couldn’t stop herself from spinning out of control. She knew she was making a scene in front of everyone, especially in front of Henry and Mabel. She wasn’t the gracious, proper lady she was supposed to be. But at that moment, she couldn’t find the reserves to care.

Even after the men rushed to set up the tent so that Mabel and she could change out of their infested clothes, her broken sobs shook her.