Klondike Medicine Woman. Linda Ford
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but they are outdated. There are better, safer ways of treating the sick and injured.”
“Then teach me them.”
“You must first be willing to abandon your old ways.”
She considered the options and shook her head. “How can I, when I know they work?”
“Doc? Come on.”
Jacob made a rough sound of exasperation and followed the man.
Jacob Calloway returned to the rough wooden sidewalk and stomped the mud from his boots. This place was a disaster. In the few days he’d been here, he’d seen nothing but mud and ignorance. The woman he’d visited needed a better diet to relieve some of the symptoms responsible for her pain. He guessed her biggest problem was she really wanted to go home.
His boots thudded on the plank sidewalk fronting the row of businesses, though from all appearances, one would conclude most of the transactions were conducted on the rowdy beach. Which is where Burns Morgan had disappeared. The boy had attached himself to Jacob on the ship, and seemed in no hurry to join the climb over the mountain toward Dawson City and the gold fields. Only sixteen years old, he doubtless liked the idea of adventure more than the reality of it. Jacob didn’t mind in the least, providing a bit of guidance and protection to the boy.
Jacob could have used him to watch the patient he’d sewn together a short time ago. Instead, he’d been forced to accept the only volunteer. That Indian woman.
She was not what he expected at all. A dusky-skinned beauty with big, dark eyes that seemed to delve into the deep recesses of one’s mind. Her flawless skin reminded him of silk and satin. No—something warmer. Alive. He shook his head to stop his foolish thoughts, but they immediately returned to recounting each detail of that moment on the trail.
She had twin braids which seemed to be traditional. Every native woman he’d seen wore her hair in exactly the same fashion. Only, on her it looked vibrant. He’d been surprised by the warmth and weight of them.
His steps slowed. Why was he giving her so much thought?
He intended to discourage further contact. If only someone had intervened when his brother was injured… forbidden the native to treat him… It was too late to save Aaron, but he intended to do his best to save others from the same fate—death by ignorance and superstitious ritual.
Despite his insistence Teena only watch the patient, he had no assurance she wouldn’t do some little dance, wave a rattle over him and sprinkle him with ashes and blood as soon as Jacob turned his back. He picked up his pace. His patient would be in need of pain medication by now. And nauseated from the ether.
He had come to fulfill a promise to his dying mother. Not that she would know if he kept his word or not. But he would know, and his conscience would give him no peace until he got on a boat from Seattle to Alaska. He intended to set up a medical clinic, train a nurse or two to care for patients and advertise for a doctor to take his place. Many doctors had left their practices to chase after Klondike gold. Surely, one would be wanting to return to medicine. When he accomplished all this, he would return to his practice in Seattle.
Jacob was close enough now to see the patient and the woman. She was taking something from her pack. Or was she putting something back? He broke into a run. “Stop. Get away.”
She turned, a smile beaming from her.
He almost stumbled. A giant invisible fist slammed into his solar plexus. What would it be like to have such a smile greet him every day? He scrubbed the back of his hand across his forehead, forced his senses into order and closed the remaining twenty feet between them. He glowered down at her, but couldn’t remember what he meant to say.
Good grief. He was thirty-two years old and acting like Burns, simply because a woman—a very young woman—had smiled at him. Why, she couldn’t be much older than Burns.
His insides churned at his stupidity.
“I told you not to give him any of your superstitious concoctions.” His frustration made him speak more harshly then he meant to. He dropped to his knees, flipped open his bag and reached for the laudanum to provide the man pain relief. Then he realized his patient rested quietly. No complaint of pain. No retching. “What did you give him?” He checked the man’s pulse and reactions, but apart from being comfortable, he detected nothing amiss.
His patient opened his eyes and focused on Jacob. “Hi, you must be the doctor. Teena here told me how you sewed me up without me feeling a thing.”
Teena. For some reason, the name suited her. She seemed keenly interested in medicine. If only she would agree to abandon her old-fashioned ways, based on superstition and tradition rather than science, he might consider training her as a nurse. But she’d been very clear she didn’t intend to. He did his best to ignore her, and instead spoke to his patient. “What’s your name?”
“Donald Freed. Thanks for fixing me up, Doc.”
“Did this woman give you something?”
Donald’s smile was mellow to say the least. “Whatever it was, it took away the pain.”
Anger roared through Jacob like a raging storm, destroying everything in its path. His brother had died not far from here, with a native caring for him. If Aaron had received proper medical care he would likely still be alive. Instead he’d been deprived of modern medicine, and worse, poisoned. He jolted to his feet and grabbed the young woman by the arm. “What did you give him?”
Her eyes widened but she showed no fear. Perhaps it was compassion filling her expression with such warmth.
Ashamed of his behavior, he dropped her arm and stepped back. “Tell me what it is so I can know how to counteract it.” He feared the ignorant cures of these people would poison Donald as it had Aaron. “Tell me before it makes him sick.”
Teena smiled, gentle and reproving. “It is only all-heal root. It will not make him sick. It will make him comfortable. Happy.”
“Doc, I feel great. Happy, like she says.”
Who knew what Teena had fed the man? Or the consequence. Frustration twisted with Jacob’s anger. How was he to combat ignorance if men like this encouraged it? His only hope was to insist Teena stay away from the clinic. He leaned closer to Teena, making sure she heard and understood every word. “I want you to stay away from the sick people. I will treat them.”
She didn’t move an inch. Her eyes didn’t so much as flicker. “You need my help. I need yours. I have prayed for a chance to learn the white man’s ways of healing. You will help me and I will help you.”
“Not in this lifetime,” he vowed.
She smiled and calmly walked away. “We will see each other again.”
He groaned. Was this some kind of punishment for an unknown omission of his? Was God testing him to see if he would falter?
I will not fail in keeping my word to Mother. I will do my best to bring proper care to these people who are seeking their fortune in gold. Then I will return to my pleasant life in Seattle.
His resolve strengthened, he again checked Donald, who rested comfortably. Then he pulled out paper and pencil and started a list of what he needed.
A little while later he entered the general store and spoke to Mack Tanner. “I’ll need these supplies to build the clinic. And I need to hire someone to construct it for me.”
Mack was the founder and mayor of the town. He had strict regulations against saloons and dance halls. He’d built a church in the center of town to signify that, in this place, God was honored. Knowing Treasure Creek was established on moral principles had been the reason Jacob had chosen this particular location to set up a new practice. Plus, the letter informing them of Aaron’s death had stated that Aaron was buried here.
Mack took the list and nodded. “I have the building material at hand. I’ll have it delivered to the site.”