Klondike Medicine Woman. Linda Ford
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“He will teach you?”
She sighed inwardly, not wanting Jimmy to know what Jacob had said. “God has sent him. He will teach me.”
“Let us hope you can learn what our people need.”
“Let us so pray.”
“I have to get back to work. There’s no end of people willing to pay for someone to take their goods up the mountain.” Jimmy’s voice grew strong with pride. Day after day, he packed a hundred-pound burden up the trail in return for gold.
“I notice you don’t mind taking the white man’s gold.”
“It is in our land. It is our gold.”
“Can you eat it? Can you wear it to keep you warm? Can it cure a dying child?”
Jimmy took a few steps away, then turned to face her. “Trading with the white man takes gold. Did you not say we have to change?” He strode toward the waterfront, found the man he sought amidst the confusion and shouldered a heavy pack.
Yes, they had to change. Learn new ways.
She turned her attention back to Jacob. He stood on the boardwalk and stared around him.
She saw his careful assessment. Then his gaze rested on her. Again she felt a quickening of her heart. As if the future held a thousand unspoken promises. As if she had set foot on a bridge over a deep valley—a bridge between two worlds. As if God had heard and answered her prayer, just like Mr. McIntyre had said He would.
Jacob continued to study her.
Her skin grew warm and prickly. Perhaps now was not the best time to try to explain why she must learn his ways. Let him get used to the idea first. She turned and retraced her steps to the edge of town. She passed the dwelling place of Viola Goddard and paused to consider how anyone could abandon an infant. It was unthinkable. Her people protected their young, knowing the future lay with them. Yet someone had simply left a baby on Miss Goddard’s doorstep, with some gold nuggets to provide for her care. As if gold could make up for family, a clan. How strange these people were. Yet learning some of their ways was essential for her people to survive.
She resumed her journey, following the trail through the trees to her village.
Jimmy came home later in the day. “I thought you would be with the doctor. They brought a man down from the mountain who almost cut his foot off with an axe.”
Teena sprang to her feet. This was her opportunity to help, to watch and learn. “I will go now.”
Her father coughed. Did the white man have a cure for this troubling affliction of her father’s? He’d once been so strong and proud. He was still proud and strong in his mind, but his skin hung on his body and he moved like an old man. “Teena, daughter, do not think you can become white.”
She stopped and slowly turned. “Father, I only want to learn what we need to survive.”
“Perhaps you are right.” He waved her away, coughing with the effort.
She scurried from the winter house. Normally, they would have all moved to the fishing camps, but this year only a handful had gone. Only a handful were well enough. Jimmy stayed to work for the gold hunters. Father had survived the pox, but it had left him too weak to hunt or fish. Teena remained behind to care for him and learn the white ways, so she would know how to help him get better. She trotted noiselessly to Treasure Creek. A crowd gathered on the walk before the place where she had last seen Dr. Calloway, and she guessed they had a reason to be hanging about.
She pushed through them to observe.
A miner held a mask over the man’s nose and dripped some sort of liquid to it. Not only was his foot torn, his stomach was ripped deeply.
She groaned inwardly. A man did not survive that kind of injury.
But Jacob sewed the layers back together. The man didn’t move, though she couldn’t imagine the depth of his pain.
Teena edged closer, but, at a warning glance from the doctor, went no farther. She could see from where she stood. What had Jacob used to render the man so motionless? If not for the way his chest rose and fell, Teena might have thought him dead. The white doctor had a powerful medicine for pain.
Her eyes followed his every movement. He was so intent on what he did. So sure. His fingers steady. Healing hands. She could barely take her gaze from them, but spared a quick glance at his face. His expression led her to think he was both concerned about the man and determined to fix him. Teena understood the feeling of wanting to overcome injury and illness. She also knew the frustration of failing.
Jacob finished and put on a spotless white piece of cloth, then turned his attention to stitching the man’s foot. An axe, they had said, but the foot was torn badly and looked more like the man had caught his foot in something powerful. Besides, how would he accidentally cut his stomach with an ax? It made her wonder if he’d been in a fight with another man brandishing a weapon of some sort. She’d often enough noted how the white man could turn on his friends and try to destroy them. This man looked as if someone had tried to tear him apart.
Dr. Calloway finished and straightened. “He’ll live and likely walk again.”
The crowd cheered.
At the doctor’s signal, the man stopped letting the liquid drop to the mask.
“Did I hear there was a doctor here?” A voice called from the back, and a burly man pushed forward. “You a doctor?”
“I am.”
“My wife is in poor shape. Come and help her.”
Dr. Jacob glanced around the crowd. “I need someone to stay with him until he comes out of the anesthesia. Who will help?”
Anesthesia. Teena had never heard of it. Was that what he did to make the man sleep through being sewn together?
The crowd melted away amidst murmurs of having work to do. Soon there was only the impatient man who sought Jacob’s help, Teena, Jacob and Wiley, a wizened old man who had spent too much time lost on the mountain and now rambled nonsense. Someone had brought him down the trail a little while ago. Mack’s kindness kept him alive.
“I can help,” Teena murmured.
Jacob acted as if he hadn’t heard. “You, mister, can you watch this man?”
“His name is Wiley,” Teena offered. “He left his mind on the mountain.”
Jacob gave her a quick glance, then shifted his attention back to Wiley. “Wiley, can you help?”
Wiley looked far away, as if seeing his many days lost and alone. “It’s cold. The wind fair tears at a man’s soul.” Wiley shuddered. He brought his gaze back to Dr. Jacob. “It stole mine. It did.” He turned and shuffled away, mumbling about finding his lost soul.
“Doc, hurry. My wife needs you now.”
“I will stay with him.” Teena stepped forward. “Or I could go with—” She indicated the pacing man.
Jacob looked as if he would about as soon cut off his own foot. He glanced at the sleeping man. “I don’t seem to have much choice. He will likely vomit when he comes to. Make sure he doesn’t choke.” He bent to plant his face a few inches from Teena’s. “You are not to give him any of your stuff.” He indicated the bag slung over her back. “Do you understand me?” His words were quiet, meant only for her ears.
“I am not deaf,” she muttered.
“None of your superstitious rituals, you hear?”
Teena turned her back and squatted by the injured man. She would not agree to anything she didn’t want to, and this was one of those things. He might know about his kind of medicine, but she knew about her kind.
“I would not let him suffer if I could help.”
Jacob