The Heart Remembers (3 page)

At the doctor’s office in Central City, it was almost three in the afternoon. Tharyn Logan had several patients sitting in the waiting area. As a certified medical nurse, she had taken care of those patients who had come in during the day that she could, but at the moment, everyone in the office needed a doctor’s attention, and Dr. Robert Fraser was out of town for the day.

Tharyn was concerned that Dane had not yet returned from the Drummond ranch. She wondered if there had been unexpected complications in the delivery of Sherrie Drummond’s baby.

At three o’clock, Tharyn left her desk and moved to the waiting area. Three mothers were holding small children who were crying and fussing. All others were adults.

“Folks,” said Tharyn, “I feel sure that Dr. Logan will be here very soon. I’ve done everything I know to do to make you and these hurting children as comfortable as possible.”

“We know that, dear,” said an elderly woman, who was suffering from a problem in her abdomen.

“We realize your husband would be here now if he could, Mrs. Logan,” said a young mother. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“I appreciate your patience,” Tharyn said softly. “It sure helps to have patient patients.”

There were smiles and a few chuckles.

The sunny September day had turned quite cold by the time Dane and Melinda topped a rise and the town of Central City spread out below them. The wind off the mountains was stronger yet.

Dane saw Melinda shiver and rub her arms beneath the shawl. “We’re finally here,” he said. “I’ll have you at the house shortly.”

He took the pocket watch out of his vest pocket and saw that
it was almost three-thirty. “Tharyn may have left a fire burning at the house when she was home for lunch. If not, I’ll build one. You can rest comfortably while I go send those telegrams to your parents and Tim.”

“Thank you for being so kind to me, Dane.”

He patted her arm. “My pleasure. It’s just so good to know you’re alive. I’ll go directly to the office after I send the telegrams, but I’m not going to tell Tharyn about you. I’ll let it be a surprise when we come home after closing the office at five o’clock.”

“Oh, Dane, you’re sneaky!” Melinda felt goose bumps cover her skin. She turned her head and spoke over her shoulder. “I’m thrilled about seeing Tharyn. And I’m so glad that Tim and my parents will soon learn that I’m alive and safe.”

Soon they entered the town, with some of the people on the street waving at the young doctor. Dane waved back each time, and soon he turned off of Main Street. Moments later, he guided Pal into the yard of their home and hauled up at the back porch.

Dane slid off the horse’s back, then raised his arms and said, “Okay, Melinda. Let me help you down.”

When Dane eased her down and her feet touched ground, her knees threatened to give way. He grasped her arms and said, “Let me help you up the steps.”

Melinda’s breathing was coming in short spurts as he helped her up the porch steps and into the bright kitchen. It was warm, and a sweet aroma filled the air.

“Oh my,” said Melinda. “Something sure smells good.”

Dane guided her toward the kitchen table. “Tharyn must have put supper in the oven to cook when she was home for lunch.” He pulled a chair from the table. “Here, little gal. You seem pretty shaky. Sit down, and I’ll make you a cup of tea. Won’t take long, since the stove is already hot.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said as she eased onto the chair.
“Maybe some nice hot tea will help to drive the chill out of my bones.” Still wearing the shawl, she ran her hands briskly up and down her cold arms.

Again she sniffed the air. “Whatever’s cooking sure smells good.”

Dane grinned. “Smells like roast chicken and sage dressing to me. We’ll enjoy it this evening, I’ll tell you that much. That sweet little spouse of mine is an excellent cook.”

Dane picked up the teakettle, already full of water, and set it on the stove. Then he opened the stove top and tossed in another log. Next, he opened the cupboard and took out a blue and white teapot, dropping in tea leaves from a metal can. He took from the cupboard a cup and saucer the same color and design as the teapot, and set them on the table in front of his guest.

Melinda was still shaking from the chill that the wind had driven into her bones. Dane pulled one of Tharyn’s shawls from a peg by the back door and draped it around her shoulders. “There. That should help.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him.

While Melinda was warming up under both shawls, Dane went to the water bucket, used the dipper to pour some water into a pan, and washed his face and hands. By the time he had dried himself, the teakettle began to whistle. Picking it up, he poured the steaming water over the tea leaves in the teapot. While she kept her eyes on the steaming pot, Dane poured the tea into her cup.

She smiled at her host. “Mm-mm. This will surely hit the spot.”

As she began sipping the hot tea, Dane reached again into the cupboard and brought out a brown sack and a small dish of butter. Taking bread from the sack, he placed it on a small plate, took a table knife from a drawer, and set them in front of her. “I’m sure you’re hungry, so help yourself. I’ve got to go now. The guest room is the first door on the right at the top of the stairs. Please make
yourself at home. There are plenty of covers on the bed. Try to take yourself a little nap. Tharyn and I should be home shortly after five, barring some unforeseen emergency, and we’ll see you then. Boy, is she ever going to be surprised!”

Tears misted Melinda’s eyes as she looked up at him. “Dane, how can I ever thank you for what you did today?”

Dane chuckled and said, “All in a day’s work. Now please drink your tea and eat the bread and butter. Get that nap, too, and you’ll feel better real soon. I need to go now. I’m sure Tharyn must be wondering what’s keeping me.”

The doctor hurried out the door, and Melinda soon heard him put Pal to a trot.

Melinda sat quietly sipping her tea and nibbling at a piece of brown bread she had spread with butter. Soon her head began to droop and her eyelids became very heavy. She drained the cup, carried the dishes to the cupboard, then went into the hall and toward the front of the house. When she reached the staircase, she let her eyes run up to the top. Her knees still felt a bit shaky, and the distance to the top of the staircase just seemed too far.

She turned and looked into the beautiful parlor. There was a soft-looking sofa near the fireplace, which had no fire. But on a chair near the sofa two folded blankets lay. There was a pillow at each end of the sofa. Using both shawls to help keep her warm, she lay down on the sofa, spread the blankets over her, and soon she was fast asleep.

TWO
 

J
ust before four that afternoon at Denver’s Mile High Hospital, young Dr. Tim Braden walked out of the surgical ward washroom, having just finished assisting the hospital’s superintendent, Dr. Matthew Carroll, with a difficult lung operation.

Two nurses were passing along the hall, and stopped, asking how the surgery went.

Tim smiled. “Dr. Carroll says we did a good job. Mrs. Lankenshire will live.”

“That’s wonderful,” said one of the nurses. “I have an idea that when you finish your internship next May, Dr. Carroll and the other doctors around here are going to miss you.”

“No doubt about that,” put in the other nurse. “Every time you work with one of the other doctors in surgery, they always say how good you are.”

Tim blushed. “Well, I’m glad they feel that way.”

As the nurses walked away, Tim’s attention was drawn to one of the hospital’s orderlies, who was waving a yellow envelope while hurrying up the hall toward him.

Tim moved in that direction, and as the orderly drew up, he said, “Dr. Braden, this telegram just came in for you down at the receptionist’s desk, and Rosie O’Brien said I should run it up to
you, since the Western Union agent said it was very important.”

“Thanks, Bernie.” Tim stepped into a shallow alcove out of the way of people moving up and down the hall, and opened the envelope.

As his eyes fell on the printed words, his throat went dry. His breath was coming in gasps as he stared at the telegram, his mouth working silently.

Dr. Matt Carroll—having spent a little longer in the surgical washroom—came up behind him, stepped around in front of him, and with a frown, asked, “Dr. Braden, are you all right?”

“Dr. Carroll! I just got this telegram from Dr. Dane Logan in Central City, and—and—”

“Yes?”

“Melin—Melinda is alive! Dr. Logan found her in a Ute village being held as a captive. He has her at his home right now! She’s alive! She’s alive!”

By this time, other hospital doctors, nurses, and employees were collecting at the spot. All of them, of course, were aware that Dr. Tim Braden’s fiancée had presumably drowned in the South Platte River, though her body had never been found. Tim’s loud words of elation had them all rejoicing, and he had to repeat the message of the telegram over and over as new people gathered.

Wiping tears, Tim said, “Dr. Carroll, I need to go to Melinda’s parents. In the telegram, Dr. Logan said he had wired them, too. I need to be with them.”

“Sure,” said Carroll. “You go ahead. I’m sure all three of you will be heading for Central City tomorrow morning.”

“Without a doubt, sir!”

“Keep me posted, okay?”

“Sure will, sir,” said Tim, and hurried down the hall. Seconds later, he ran past the receptionist’s desk in the lobby, telling her that Melinda was alive, and bolted out the door.

Rosie O’Brien smiled and started to call out her joy at the
news to him, but he was through the door before she could do so.

As Tim ran toward his horse and buggy, he spotted a buggy pulling into the lot. In the buggy were George and Hattie Kenyon, Melinda’s adoptive parents. Their faces were bright with elation as George waved a yellow envelope at him.

It was just after four o’clock in Central City as Tharyn Logan was sitting at her desk, trying to keep the remaining three patients calm while waiting for her husband to return. The rest of them had gone home, saying they would return tomorrow morning. One middle-aged woman was complaining about the pain she was experiencing from a broken bone in her right hand. Tharyn’s attention was drawn to the large window as she saw Dane ride up to the hitch rail outside.

She jumped out of her chair and cried, “He’s here! It’s okay, folks. He’s here!” With that, she bolted out the door to meet him.

Dane was on the ground, lifting his medical bag from the pommel of the saddle when he saw the young woman with the long auburn hair dashing across the boardwalk. He smiled as she threw her arms around him.

Holding him tight, Tharyn asked, “Honey, were there complications in Sherrie’s giving birth to her baby?”

“No complications,” he breathed into her ear. “Sherrie and her baby boy are doing just fine.”

Tharyn eased back and set her quizzical blue eyes on him.

“But, honey, I expected you back long before now. Most of the patients gave up and left for home, saying they would be back tomorrow morning. We’ve still got three in there who very much need your attention. What kept you?”

“Well, for now let me say that what kept me longer than expected was that a band of Utes came onto the Drummond ranch while I was there, and bullets were flying.”

Tharyn’s eyes widened and her jaw slacked. “Oh no! You seem all right. Were any of the Drummonds hit?”

“No. I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now let’s get in there to those patients.”

Dane began with the woman with the broken hand, and had taken care of the other two patients by the usual closing time—five o’clock. They closed the office and stepped up to Pal, who whinnied a greeting to Tharyn. Dane hoisted her up into the saddle, then swung up behind her and put Pal into motion.

“Tell me now, darling, about the Indians at the Drummond ranch,” Tharyn said.

While they rode toward home, Dane told her of Chief Tando’s son being shot; of the rest of the Ute band being chased by the patrol from Fort Junction, of his caring for Latawga’s wound, and of taking him home to the Ute village.

Dane went on to tell Tharyn of Chief Tando’s change of heart about white people because of the compassion he had shown to Latawga; of Chief Ouray coming to Tando’s village in four days and that he was going with Chief Tando and Chief Ouray to Fort Junction so Tando could make peace with Colonel Perry Smith, sign a peace treaty, and try to get his captured warriors released.

Tharyn hipped around in the saddle, smiled at her husband, and said, “Oh, Dane, I’m so happy to hear this! I hope this will cause the rest of the renegade Ute chiefs to make peace, too!”

“Wouldn’t that be great?” he said with a wide smile.

As they turned off Main Street, Tharyn said over her shoulder, “Dane …?”

“What, honey?”

“Something really strange.”

“What?”

“Well, today, I’ve had Melinda on my mind so much in spite of trying to keep all those patients comfortable while waiting for you to arrive.”

“Well, sweetie, that doesn’t surprise me. You’ve told me all along that she is still in your thoughts every day.”