“I thought I heard the front— Well, who have we here?” an older man inquired as he approached Harvey and Thomas.
“This is Thomas . . .”
“Grayson. Thomas Grayson. Is you the doctor?”
“Indeed I am.”
“I come to see if I could fetch you back to Nicodemus, Dr. Boyle. We got us a situation and we need help. One of our women, Nellie Harris . . . well, it’s her time, but the baby ain’t turned right and she’s in terrible pain, and the midwife ain’t been doin’ nothing to help and they sent me to get you and then—”
Dr. Boyle held out his hands, palms forward. “Slow down and catch your breath. Here, come sit by the fire.”
“I . . . I can’t. My britches is wet an’ dirty an’ . . .”
Ignoring his protests, the man led him to a high-backed wooden chair. Once he’d warmed a little, Thomas told his story with clarity and speed, stopping only to take sips of the coffee and bites of the biscuit and ham Dr. Boyle’s daughter had brought him. When he was finished, he stood and walked anxiously toward the door. “You ready to head out?”
The doctor grabbed his black medical bag as Harvey brought the sleigh up next to the front steps.
“I hope my father is able to help your wife,” the doctor’s daughter said.
“Oh . . . no, it . . . uh, ain’t my wife what’s having the baby. I jest volunteered to come get the doctor so’s Nellie’s husband could stay with her. I ain’t got no wife.”
The girl gave him a gentle smile. “Then it was most kind of you to come out in this terrible weather to help someone else. Not many folks would be willing to place their life in danger for another. The Bible says that’s the greatest of all gifts—to lay down your life for another.”
Thomas held the collar of his jacket closed and mumbled hasty words of thanks, but he silently wondered how she’d gotten the wrong idea about him. He hadn’t been trying to die for anybody, and he didn’t want this lady to think he was some kind of saint. He surely wasn’t.
W
hile the sleigh moved toward Nicodemus, Harvey talked nonstop. He told Thomas about Georgetown and their move to Hill City, and he even repentantly related a few instances of his disorderly behavior while living in Kentucky. Thomas was stunned by Harvey’s revelations. Harvey didn’t seem the type of young man who shirked responsibility or disobeyed his parents. He had swiftly offered his assistance out in the blizzard and had even insisted upon feeding Thomas’s horse. Harvey admitted he was a changed man. While Harvey attributed the influence of Jeb Malone for the changes in his life, Dr. Boyle gave full credit to God. Either way, Thomas was thankful he’d met Harvey Boyle after he’d moved to Kansas rather than before.
As they reached the outskirts of Nicodemus, they could see smoke rising from the low-lying hillocks that made up the small settlement.
Thomas pointed to the right, and Dr. Boyle turned the horses without hesitation. “That’s the Harris place over there,” Thomas directed.
Harvey edged forward on the seat. “I thought you said they lived in town.”
“This here
is
the town. It’s all we got right now. Over dere is Zach King’s place.” The words
King’s Emporium
had been carved into a thin piece of wood that was attached to the door. “Zach put up some shelves right inside his dugout door—calls it a general store, but it’s the home where he lives with his fambly. He ain’t got nothin’ on the shelves ceptin’ a few jugs of molasses and a little cornmeal he brought from Kentucky, but he says he’s gonna have the finest general store in town one day. I figure he’ll be usin’ that molasses and cornmeal to feed his young’uns afore much longer—if he ain’t already. Miss Hattie says Zach’s got him a general store that’s generally out of everything.” Thomas laughed. “But there ain’t nobody in Nicodemus doubting that ol’ Zach’s gonna have him a fine business one day.”
Dr. Boyle pulled back on the reins, and the horses came to a halt in front of the Harris dugout. Thomas jumped down from the sleigh. “This here is Calvin and Nellie’s place. I’ll take ya in and introduce ya, Dr. Boyle, and then I’ll be on my way. I don’ wanna be in there, what with the baby coming and such.”
Harvey’s eyes widened at the remark. “Me neither. I’ll wait out here in the sleigh.”
“You can come over to the Harban dugout with me ’til after the birthing if ya like,” Thomas told him with a grin. “Jest wait right here.”
Harvey propelled his head up and down as if he were priming a pump and settled back in the wagon while Thomas knocked on the door of the dugout. Calvin opened the door, his eyes shining with fear as he waved Dr. Boyle forward. Jarena stood up to greet the two men.
“How’s the patient doing?” Dr. Boyle asked Jarena.
“Not so good. I’m scared she might not make it. She’s weak, and Miss Hattie here is afraid the baby might be dead.” She tilted her head toward the old woman, who sat on a rocking chair near Nellie’s bed. “Oh, Thomas, it’s been horrible waiting for the doctor to get here.”
His head dropped to his chest. “I did my best to get back as fast as I could, but the blizzard slowed me down more’n you can imagine.”
“I know you did everything possible, Thomas,” she said, grasping his sleeve. “Please don’t think I was condemning you. We’re all grateful you went—truly.”
He nodded. “I best be gettin’ out of here so the doctor can tend to Nellie. I’m takin’ his son Harvey over to your place until his pappy’s done here. Ya might point the way when he’s ready to leave.”
“Of course. And thank you for everything, Thomas. You’ll have to tell me about your journey this evening.”
Samuel Boyle neared Nellie Harris’s bedside. The girl had obviously been drugged, for she remained in a semi-conscious state during his preliminary examination. He turned toward Miss Hattie and arched his brows. “Laudanum?”
“Midwife give it to her—had to do somethin’ to ease the pain. Only thing we got.”
He nodded. He wouldn’t condemn. Folks had to do whatever they could in dire circumstances such as these. And there was little doubt Nellie needed relief from the pain. Thomas had told him the girl was young and strong, but she couldn’t physically endure days of birthing pains without something to relieve the agony. However, he hoped the dosage hadn’t been enough to harm the infant. The midwife’s assessment had been correct. Although Nellie was in labor, the baby hadn’t turned properly. The infant’s shoulder had lodged and now blocked the birth canal.
With Nellie relaxed from the drug, Samuel knew what he must do. He cast an apologetic gaze at Calvin and then placed his large hands across Nellie’s abdomen. Using enough brute strength to force the child into position, he manipulated with a twisting motion that transported Nellie into a screaming wakefulness. Her earsplitting pleas shattered the room and sent Calvin racing outdoors.
Dr. Boyle leaned over Nellie and took her face between his hands. “I’m not going to do that again, Nellie. The baby is turned, but you must now push as hard as you can. Your baby’s life depends upon you. Can you hear me?”
She panted for breath. Beads of perspiration dotted her upper lip. “I’ll do my best.”
Dr. Boyle smiled. “I know you will. I’m likely going to have to use forceps to help the baby down the birth canal. I apologize, but it’s going to hurt. The thing is, we’ve got to move quickly.”
Samuel was correct. The birth was painful, but the baby boy gave a lusty cry as he entered the world. It was a good sign that the child would survive; he could only hope Nellie would do the same. The girl had suffered terribly, and she would need time to recuperate.
Jarena handed Dr. Boyle a cup of weak coffee as the family began to discuss a proper name for the infant. The tenseness in his shoulders eased as he finally relaxed in a chair by the fireplace and took in his surroundings. He couldn’t be absolutely certain in the dim light, but the interior of the dugout appeared to be no more than sixteen by twenty feet. From what he could see, it looked as if the dwelling had been thoughtfully constructed using as much of the hillside as possible and then building up the sides with sod bricks so that under the eaves the height was about six feet. The fireplace took up one end of the room, and the remainder was filled to capacity with two beds, Miss Hattie’s rocker, a makeshift table and chairs, and several trunks. Shelves and pegs had been lodged into the walls and were laden with clothing and sundry belongings. The room was tidy, though Samuel wondered where the baby would find room to play once he began to toddle about. They’ll enlarge their dwelling by that time, he told himself as he downed the last of his coffee.
He stood up and handed his empty cup to Jarena. “Decided upon a name?”
Nellie gave him a weary smile. “We decided on Nathan Samuel Harris. We don’ want him to ever ferget the man who helped bring him into dis world.”
“I’m honored. Now, you must all promise that Nellie will stay in bed and rest. I plan to return and check on both her and little Nathan very soon. However, I believe I best find my own son and head home.”
Jarena jumped to her feet. “He’s gone to our house. I’ll show you the way, Dr. Boyle.”
After leaving further instructions for Nellie’s care, Samuel donned his coat. He knew the family would do their best, but with so little food, Samuel wondered if Nellie would gain enough strength to rebound from her ordeal. She’d lost a great deal of blood, and he worried she might not recover. He’d have to find some way to help.
Harvey’s silence was unsettling. Though the boy wasn’t given to intellectual conversation, he had remained unusually quiet throughout their return to Hill City. “Feels good to be home, doesn’t it?” Samuel asked as they pulled up in front of the house.
Harvey gave a somber nod. “Never thought I’d be glad to see this house, but I am.”
Samuel patted his son on the back and chuckled. “Amazing how much more we appreciate what we have once we realize there are others with much less, isn’t it?”
“I’m not certain that’s the answer,” he said, his brow furrowed. “I knew most of the coloreds in Kentucky didn’t live as well as we did, but it didn’t bother me. Why is
this
so different?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps because you’ve never before been confronted by so many people in dire circumstances. Or perhaps because you’re beginning to mature and think of others rather than yourself.”
“They need help, Father.”
Samuel nodded as he opened the front door. “You’re right, but the matter needs more thought than I care to give it out here in the cold. Let’s go inside.”
Margaret fluttered to greet them and immediately announced supper was waiting, though Samuel noted she was massaging the back of her neck. Likely she was suffering another of her headaches, which would probably lead to several days in bed. He wondered if his wife sometimes used her headaches and melancholy to escape dealing with life. She’d certainly taken to her bed more frequently since settling in Kansas. The thought caused him a twinge of guilt, especially since he was a doctor and had been able to do nothing to ease her spells.
“Take off your coats and come sit down. I’ve a hearty stew and freshly baked bread. Both Macia and I are anxious to hear all the details of your mission of mercy. We can eat as soon as I dish up the stew.”
While they ate their supper, Samuel detailed their journey and the birth of the child, stopping to answer his wife’s occasional questions and listen to her words of praise for his ministrations. Once he’d answered all her questions concerning the birth, Margaret insisted upon details about the small community.
Harvey wiped his mouth and placed his napkin by his plate. “They don’t even have enough food to feed themselves.”
“It’s a tragic situation,” Samuel agreed. “I don’t know how those folks are going to make it through the winter. Unfortunately, the information we received at the Ellis train station proved to be correct. The town they were promised is not there.”
Leaning forward in his chair, Harvey captured his mother’s attention. “Many of them have feelings of deep hostility toward Mr. Hill.”
Samuel took a sip of his coffee and thought of the weak brew he’d been served in the Harris dugout. “And rightfully so. He deceived all of them and has left their group in a situation that would test even the most adept frontiersman.”
“It appears Mr. Hill is not a man to be trusted, yet I would like to believe he will return and give some justification for his behavior.” Margaret poured a dollop of cream into her coffee and began to stir. “I don’t want to believe that he would callously leave people in dire straits merely to promote his own financial gain.”
“He didn’t exactly tell
us
the truth about Hill City, either,” Macia remarked. “At least I
hope
Father didn’t bring us to this desolate place knowing in advance what we would find here.”
“Rest assured that I expected much more. However, I think your brother will attest to the fact that you would be most happy with this house once you saw the conditions in Nicodemus.”
Margaret gave her husband a look of concern. “Tell me, what can we do to help?”
Samuel brightened at the question. Perhaps Margaret would take hold out here in the West if she had something other than housework to pique her interest. After all, she had maintained a busy schedule of charity and church work back in Kentucky.
He patted her hand. “I plan to return to Nicodemus in the next week or two to see about Nellie’s progress. Perhaps we could go to the general store and purchase a few provisions that I could take along. The men did tell me they have sent out a representative to seek assistance from larger cities back east. They’re holding out hope they’ll receive at least some supplies through that process. When I return, I’ll ask if there’s any specific help that we can provide.”
Once again, Margaret began to massage the back of her neck. “Well, it’s just all too horrid! For the life of me, I don’t understand why any of you men think living out on the frontier is such a wondrous concept. And those poor women over in Nicodemus are likely wondering the same thing!”
Macia scooted to the edge of her chair. “Could I go with you when you return to Nicodemus?”