Midnight Rescue / The Proposal / Christy's Choice (22 page)

“I take it all's well at the schoolhouse?”

David grinned. “The children are on their way home, and the hogs are back where they belong. I just stopped by to see how Christy was doing.”

“Well, she's no longer covered in mud, if that's what you mean.” The doctor grinned, then added, “And I don't see any reason why we need
you
along on the trip, Reverend.”

Christy exchanged a knowing glance with Miss Alice. The doctor and David were both “sweet on” Christy, as Ruby Mae liked to say.

“The doctor and the preacher are like two hungry old coon dogs, circling around one bone,” she'd told Christy once.

Christy wasn't sure she liked being compared to a bone. But she supposed there was some truth to what Ruby Mae said. In fact, David made no secret of his affections. He had even proposed marriage. Christy had turned down his offer, but with the understanding that she might reconsider at a later time. David was very special to her.

As for Neil MacNeill, well, he clearly didn't want her to marry David, but most of the time it was hard for Christy to know what was going on in
his
mind. Her feelings toward him were usually equal parts affection and annoyance.

“I'll be going to Asheville on mission business,” David said. “I've been invited many times to visit some of the churches there and tell them about our work at the mission.” He looked at Miss Alice. “I know we never ask for contributions, but if I were to go to Asheville and tell the people there about our work, and if they happened to want to help us . . .”

“We would never decline help,” Miss Alice agreed. “As long as it's freely given, from the heart.”

“I see,” Doctor MacNeill said skeptically.

“All of a sudden, just because Christy is going to Asheville, you are moved by an urgent need to visit your fellow preachers? Isn't that just a bit of a coincidence?”

“I have as much right to go to Asheville as—” David began.

Miss Alice interrupted him. “Gentlemen, gentlemen. Please. I don't believe Christy has even agreed to go.”

“Oh, she'll go,” said the doctor. “If I am not mistaken, she is already seeing visions in her head of clean sheets and cozy fires and meals that do not involve possum stew.”

Christy started, jerked out of her daydream.

It was very annoying, the way Neil could sometimes read her mind.

“I'll go to see my family,” Christy said frostily. “And to help Bessie. She's the only thing that's really important here.
Not
because I'm thinking of those other things, Neil.”

“There is still one problem,” the doctor said. “As I mentioned, I haven't yet obtained permission from Kyle and Lety Coburn to perform the operation on Bessie.”

“But why would they object?” Christy questioned in surprise.

The doctor shrugged. “I suppose it's a combination of things,” he said. “Fear of losing their daughter. I've admitted to the Coburns that no operation is ever one hundred percent safe. And then, there's the usual problem—the Coburns are a very traditional clan. Kyle Coburn still believes in the old ways, the mountain cures.”

“So Bessie might have to suffer?” Christy was outraged. She had tried to learn to respect the traditions of the mountain people, but to turn away from modern medicine at a time like this was simply foolish.

“Don't worry,” David said. “I'm sure Kyle Coburn will come around, in the end.”

“Yes, I'm sure you're right, Reverend,” the doctor said. Then, with a sly grin at Christy, he added, “You'll get your trip to the city yet, Christy.”

“Let me make this clear, Neil,” Christy said.

“My only concern is for Bessie. I just want her to get better. The fact that the hospital happens to be in Asheville is unimportant.”

She stood up. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.”

She grabbed the basket of muddy, hog-smelling clothes. What she'd told the doctor was true—Bessie was all that really mattered to her. Still, she thought as she wrinkled her nose at the smell, it wouldn't really
hurt
to enjoy a few nights in her old room.

After she had cleaned the hog smell out of her dress, Christy decided to go visit Bessie and see how she was doing. Perhaps she would get an opportunity to talk some sense into Kyle Coburn.

“Can I come along?” Ruby Mae asked. “I ain't seen Bessie since yesterday.”

“Sure, Ruby Mae. That is, if Miss Ida doesn't need you.”

“No, Miz Christy. I tried to help her with her cooking, but she said I was just chitter-chattering so she couldn't hardly hear herself think. That's what she said.”

Christy smiled. Ruby Mae did have a tendency to talk constantly, while Miss Ida preferred peace and quiet.

“All right, Ruby Mae, I'd be pleased if you'd come along with me.”

It was late in the afternoon, but now that it was practically summer, the days lasted longer.

Christy hoped to make it to the Coburn cabin and get back before it was dark, in plenty of time for dinner.

It was a pleasant walk. The day was warm, and wildflowers were blooming yellow and blue and pink in the grassy meadows.

Christy was long-since accustomed to Ruby Mae's stream of chatter. She listened with one ear to Ruby Mae, and with the other to the songs of the birds that were arriving back in the mountains after their winter escape to warmer southern climates.

They were close to the Coburn cabin when something Ruby Mae said seemed to jump out at her.

“What was that you just said, Ruby Mae?”

Christy asked.

“I was just sayin' as how when we're in Asheville it would be fine if we could look into some of those shops where you get your citified clothing.”

“When
we
are in Asheville?” Christy repeated.

“Yes, Miz Christy. Didn't you know? I'm a-goin', too.”

“Who says
you're
going? Did Doctor MacNeill ask you to go along?”

Ruby Mae looked thoughtful. “I don't recollect rightly if it was the doctor. I just know I'm a-goin'.”

“Ruby Mae, I don't think—” Christy began.

Suddenly there came a low, sad moan, carried on the wind.

Christy pointed. “It's coming from the Coburn's cabin!”

“That's Bessie!” Ruby Mae cried.

“Ooooh, it hurts,” the girl groaned. “Somebody help me, please!”

Three

C
hristy ran toward the cabin, with Ruby Mae right behind her.

“Oooh, it hurts,” the voice wailed.

Christy stumbled up the uneven wooden steps and burst in the door.

Inside, Bessie lay on a simple cot. Her blond hair was matted and tangled. Strands of it were glued to her forehead by sweat.

“Bessie, what's wrong?” Christy cried.

Bessie's mother suddenly appeared in the doorway behind them. She had an armful of small branches and twigs. She ignored Christy and Bessie and ran to her daughter. “Is it bad again?” she asked.

“Yes, Ma, it hurts somethin' fierce.”

Mrs. Coburn dropped the wood near the fireplace. Close by was a small, handmade cupboard. A table, three crude chairs, and the one cot were the only other furnishings. The cabin was orderly and clean enough, but still smelled of smoke and cooking odors. The only light filtered through a single window, which was covered with oiled paper instead of glass.

Mrs. Coburn went to the little cupboard and pulled out a bottle and a spoon.

“Here you go, sweetie,” she said. She poured a spoonful from the bottle and gave it to Bessie.

Christy cleared her throat. She felt awkward, having just barged uninvited into the Coburns' cabin. “I'm sorry to come in uninvited, Mrs. Coburn,” she said, “but we heard Bessie crying out for help.”

“You're welcome here anytime, Miz Christy,” Mrs. Coburn said wearily. “I was out gathering wood for the fire. The nights are still cold.”

“Is that some kind of medicine in the bottle?” Ruby Mae asked. She eyed the bottle suspiciously. “Does it taste just awful, Bessie?”

“It do,” Bessie acknowledged in a gasping voice. “Only it sort of dulls the hurtin', too. So I reckon I don't mind the taste.”

“Doctor says she should take a bit, but only when the pain gets to be considerable,” Mrs. Coburn explained. “He says it's laudanum, and it makes folk get a craving if'n they ain't careful.”

Christy was shocked. Laudanum was a very powerful drug. Bessie must be in terrible pain for Doctor MacNeill to have prescribed it.

Christy pulled Mrs. Coburn aside. “Mrs. Coburn, has Doctor MacNeill told you that he wants to take Bessie to Asheville for an operation?” she asked in a low voice.

“Yes'm, he talked about that to me and Kyle.” Mrs. Coburn bit her lip and looked worried. “Kyle, he don't take no stock in all this medicine of the doctor's. He says if'n it's the Lord's will to take Bessie, then there ain't nothing that folks can do, and it'd be a sin to try.”

“But Mrs. Coburn, the Lord also gives us our intelligence, so that we can help ourselves.”

She nodded. “That's what I told Kyle. Only he don't take easy to newfangled ideas and such. He says he reckons he'll stick to the old ways.”

Christy felt her anger rising. It was difficult to keep it in check sometimes. The mountain people resisted even the things that would clearly help them.

“But your husband can't just let Bessie lie there in pain!” Christy argued.

The mountain woman raised a hand. “Don't you be a frettin', Miz Christy. That man can't stand no argufyin', so he went off to hunt up some meat to help Bessie get her strength back. Generally, if I keeps at him, he comes around.”

“Are you saying you think he'll let Bessie go for the operation?”

“Well, I reckon as how there'll be a bit more argufyin' and thrashin' out, but yes'm, he'll end up by letting her go.” She smiled at her daughter. “Leastways, he would if'n Bessie herself was to ask him. He's a stubborn old coot, but he does love his little girl.” Her eyes darkened. “Unless he was to start to drinkin' tonight. He gets right ornery and stubborn as a mule when he's been at the jug.”

Christy took a deep breath to steady her emotions. So Bessie could probably have the operation—but only if her father stayed sober.

Patience, Christy ordered herself. Patience. Miss Alice had warned her, ever so gently, of course, that too much pushing and prodding would just create greater resistance. The mountain people had lived alone, without help from the world outside for many, many years. It was only natural that they were suspicious of outsiders, and set in their own ways.

Unfortunately, their own ways included bootleg liquor and ignorant superstitions.

“Doctor MacNeill has asked if I will go along to Asheville with him,” Christy said. “And Reverend Grantland may be coming, too.”

“I'd be much obliged to you,” Mrs. Coburn said. “It's fittin' that a woman would take care of my Bessie. It pains me mightily 'cause I cain't be going with Bessie myself. But our new baby will be comin' most any time now. Besides, plantin' season came late this year, and we have to get our corn in.”

“Of course,” Christy said. She knew that a family that didn't plant its crops in spring would starve in winter. Life in the mountains was harsh and unforgiving.

“Don't you worry none, Mrs. Coburn,” Ruby Mae said. “Me and Miz Christy will see to Bessie.”

“Are you going, too, Ruby Mae?” Bessie cried.

“Sure I am,” Ruby Mae said.

“No, she's not,” Christy said at the same instant.

“But I got to go, Miz Christy,” Ruby Mae pleaded. “Who's Bessie gonna talk to?”

“Who am I gonna talk to, Miz Christy?” Bessie echoed.

“What do you mean, who's she going to talk to?” Christy said. “Why, to me, of course. And to the doctor and Reverend Grantland.”

Bessie and Ruby Mae exchanged a look.

“Miz Christy, it ain't the same,” Ruby Mae pointed out. “You bein' a teacher and all.”

“I don't reckon I could even go all the way to Asheville, less'n I had Ruby Mae to keep company with,” Bessie agreed solemnly. “I don't even reckon I could ask my pa to let me go, unless . . .” Bessie gave Christy a sideways look.

Christy almost laughed. Bessie was blackmailing her! She was threatening not to have the operation unless Ruby Mae could go, too. The laudanum had obviously relieved Bessie's pain enough to allow her to instantly fall in with Ruby Mae's plan.

“Bessie would be all alone in the big city, with not a single friend,” Ruby Mae added in a pleading voice.

“Powerful lonely is what I'd be,” Bessie agreed. “I don't reckon a person can mend properly, if they's all lonely and such.”

“You hear that, Miz Christy?” Ruby Mae wailed. “Bessie could just up and die if'n I ain't with her.”

Christy rolled her eyes. “I have the distinct feeling,” she said with a sigh, “that I'm outnumbered.”

That night as she lay in bed, Christy couldn't fall asleep. The wind had picked up as night fell, and now it whistled through every chink in the mission house. A loose board rattled and banged.

Rain began to fall. On the tin roof, it made a sound like gravel being thrown against a drum. She knew that in a few seconds, if the rain kept up, it would find its way through the roof and begin leaking from the ceiling.

She thought of the Coburns' cabin, so much rougher and cruder even than the mission house. Surely there, the wind was even more of a problem. Surely there, and in all the simple cabins of the poor mountain folk, the rain was pouring from a dozen leaks.

Christy knew she should be grateful for all she had. But at the same time, she kept recalling her room in her parents' house back in Asheville. So quiet, even in the midst of a spring storm. So warm. So clean. The bed so soft.