A Frontier Christmas (20 page)

Max Dingo had an arrangement with Moe Dunaway, the owner of a small store halfway between Hartville and Rawhide Buttes, to provide Dingo and Sidewinder Gorge with provisions from liquor to food, ammunition, and newspapers.

The newspapers weren't merely for idle curiosity. An up-to-date source of news was vital to someone like Dingo. Through the accounts in the paper, he could ascertain if anyone was looking for him or any of his men. It also provided him with windows of opportunity. As he read the story about the shipment of diphtheria antitoxin, he realized that it was just such a window.

“Ha!” Dingo said. “Boys, we just got a Christmas present.”

“What's that?” Jesse Cave asked.

Dingle held out the newspaper and struck it with the back of his hand. “Rawhide Buttes is having a diphtheria epidemic. And that's going to make us rich.”

“How is it going to make us rich?”

“You'll see.”

“My throat hurts,” Cora said. “Oh, Meagan, what if I am coming down with diphtheria?”

“It may just be a case of catarrh,” Meagan said. “Don't get worried yet. Let's go see the doctor.”

“How? We're supposed to stay inside. We're under quarantine, remember?”

“I don't think that's for someone who needs to see the doctor. Come on. I'll go with you.”

When the two women reached the doctor's office, they saw a sign on the front door.
DR. POINDEXTER HAS RELOCATED TO THE CHURCH
.

“Oh, my,” Meagan said. “The situation must be bad if the doctor has to spend all his time in church now.”

Reaching the church a few minutes later, they were surprised by the number of people they saw around it. When they stepped inside, they saw at least a dozen people stretched out on the pews. They were greeted by Reverend Sharkey.

“Good morning, ladies. What seems to be the problem?”

“What's going on? Why are all these people here?” Cora asked.

“The church has been turned into a hospital,” Reverend Sharkey said. “Do either of you need to see the doctor?”

“Cora does.”

“Sore throat? Difficulty in swallowing?” Reverend Sharkey asked.

“Yes,” Cora replied. Her voice was growing hoarse.

Reverend Sharkey nodded. “All right. Have a seat over there. The doctor will come see you as soon as he can.”

As they waited for the doctor, Meagan looked out over the nave, where she counted at least seven children and five adults, all patients. Dr. Poindexter and one woman were being kept busy, attending to them.

“That's Jenny Poindexter,” Cora pointed out. “She is the doctor's wife and nurse.”

“They are really busy,” Meagan said. “It looks like they could use help.”

“Who would do such a thing, though?” Cora asked. “Wouldn't anyone who came to help be exposing themselves to diphtheria? Which reminds me, why don't you leave now, and go back to the shop before you catch it, too?”

“What do you mean, too?”

“I've got it,” Cora said. “I know it, and you know it.”

Meagan didn't reply. She was pretty sure that Cora was right.

Their fears were confirmed a few minutes later when Dr. Poindexter found the time to come over and make an examination.

“Is there anything you can do for it?” Meagan asked.

“Right now, I'm afraid that all we can do is treat it symptomatically,” he said.

“What does that mean?” Cora asked.

“It means your throat is going to swell shut so that you can't breathe. I can fix it so that you will be able to breathe, but that does nothing to cure the disease.”

“Is there no cure?” Meagan asked.

“Yes, there is an antitoxin that will cure it. I've sent for it, but in the meantime, all I can do is keep as many alive as I can until it gets here.”

“How do you do that?”

“That depends on how far along it is. If the disease has advanced to the point that the throat is swollen shut, I have to do a tracheotomy and an intubation. That means I have to cut a hole in their throat so they can breathe. If we catch it early enough, we can treat the throat with a solution that will dissolve the covering of mucus membrane.” Dr. Poindexter smiled at Cora. “Fortunately in your case, Miss Ensor, we seem to have caught it early enough. I'll go prepare the solution.”

A moment later, Dr. Poindexter returned with an atomizer.

“Are you going to spray me with perfume?” Cora asked with a smile.

Dr. Poindexter returned the smile. “I'm glad to see that you still have your sense of humor. But yes, this is very much like a perfume atomizer. I'm going to spray the solution into your throat. I warn you, it is a mixture of water and acid, so it is going to be painful. But it must be done.”

“All right,” Cora said, closing her eyes and preparing herself.

“Doctor! We need a tracheotomy now!” Jenny called.

Dr. Poindexter handed the atomizer to Meagan. “Here, my dear. You can do this. Spray until it is all gone. And Miss Ensor, I encourage you to cough as often and as hard as you can. You need to clear the mucus from building up in your throat.”

Even before Dr. Poindexter left, Meagan began spraying the mixture into Cora's throat. Almost immediately, Cora began to cough.

By the time the solution was exhausted, Cora had coughed up a good deal of yellow pus. She was breathing a bit easier when Dr. Poindexter returned.

“Good, good,” he said, looking at the cloth into which Cora had coughed. “You seem to have gotten rid of a lot of it.”

“Doc!” someone called, coming in through the front door of the church. “It's my wife! She can't breathe!”

As Dr. Poindexter left to tend to the new arrival, Reverend Sharkey came over to speak with Meagan and Cora.

“Miss Ensor, I've got a place for you over here. Unfortunately, we have run out of sheets and blankets.”

“Oh, do I have to stay? Can't I go back home?”

“I'm afraid not. You'll have to have your throat treated again in a couple hours.”

“Cora, I'll go back to your place and get you a sheet and blanket,” Meagan offered.

“I suggest you get the oldest you can find,” Reverend Sharkey said. “They will have to be burned after this.”

“Get the ones off my bed,” Cora said. “You've been my guest, so I gave you the newest.”

“All right.”

There was nobody on the street, and all the stores were empty as Megan hurried back to the dress shop. They had left the front door unlocked, and when Meagan went inside, she saw Sally working with one of the figures in the Christmas display.

“Sally?”

“I didn't feel like staying in the hotel room. Smoke is helping the marshal, and I was all alone. I thought I would come down here and spend some time with you and Cora, but when I found you gone I decided to work on the display.” Sally looked around the store. “You and Cora have done such a wonderful job, it's a shame nobody is going to be able to enjoy it.”

“Cora is sick,” Meagan said. “She has diphtheria.”

“Oh, Meagan, no. Where is she?”

“She's at the church. Dr. Poindexter has turned the church into a hospital. Oh, Sally, you should see it. It is filling up very quickly. I'm here to get some bedsheets, then I'm going back. I'm going to help the doctor.”

“What a wonderful idea. I wonder if he would take my help as well.”

“I'm sure he would. Right now, he is overwhelmed, with so many patients and only he, his wife, and Reverend Sharkey to tend to them.”

When Meagan and Sally returned to the church a few minutes later, they found Cora lying on one of the pews. She appeared to be sleeping, though she was shivering from cold. Quickly, Meagan covered her, then put a pillow under her head.

“Thanks,” Cora murmured.

Even more people were in the converted hospital than there had been when Meaghan left to retrieve the sheet and blanket. Dr. Poindexter was doing another tracheotomy.

“Miss Parker,” Reverend Sharkey said. “Dr. Poindexter asked if you would mind staying around for a while and helping out.”

“Of course I don't mind,” Meagan said. “What does he want me to do?”

“He said that you did a good job in applying the spray mixture to Miss Ensor's throat, that perhaps you could do that with others.”

“All right. Where do I get the mixture?”

“Mrs. Poindexter will keep you supplied. All you'll have to do is administer the spray.”

“I would like to help, as well,” Sally said.

Dr. Poindexter overheard. He finished the surgery and joined the women. “Yes, of course I can use you. But I hope you understand that you will be exposing yourself to the sickness. I can't promise you that you won't come down with the disease.”

“I'll be no more exposed than you, your wife, the reverend, or Meagan,” Sally said.

“The difference is, they have already been exposed in one way or another,” Dr. Poindexter said. “You haven't.”

Sally smiled. “I have now.”

Dr. Poindexter nodded, then grunted what might have been a laugh. “Yeah, I suppose you have.”

“So, what would you have me do?”

“Mostly just mix the acid and water solutions. Mrs. Poindexter will show you how. And spray the applications into the throats of the people as it is needed,” Dr. Poindexter said. “Meagan, you've already done this once. You can show her what to do the first time.”

“All right,” Meagan said.

“Doctor, come quickly!” Reverend Sharkey called. “Mrs. Abernathy has stopped breathing!”

“Jenny, bring the tools. I may have to do a tracheal intubation,” Dr. Poindexter said. “Meagan, you and . . .” he paused, looking for a name.

“Sally.”

“Sally, come with me. You two may as well see what a tracheal intubation is, so that if I need your assistance in one of these procedures, you will at least have some idea of what is going on.”

Meagan and Sally hurried after the doctor, who walked quickly to the other side of the church. Reverend Sharkey was standing there, holding the hand of a middle-aged woman stretched out on the pew. Jenny arrived at about the same time, carrying a tray on which there were several items, one of which was a scalpel.

Dr. Poindexter picked up the scalpel and made in incision in Mrs. Abernathy's neck. Sally and Meagan watched the procedure, including the part where some of the mucus was sucked out.

Meagan felt herself growing very light-headed, and stumbled back a few steps before Sally caught her.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Meagan said weakly. “I just got a little dizzy, is all.”

“Sit down and put your head between your knees,” Dr. Poindexter ordered, and Meagan followed his directions.

“I'll get you a drink of water,” Sally offered. Moving to the water barrel that was set up at the back of the church, she hesitated, wondering if the couple of drinking cups handy had been used by those who had already been stricken with the disease.

Reverend Sharkey came to her assistance. “Here, let me show you something.” He took a clean sheet of paper and folded it into a triangle. Then, after four more folds, he opened it up, forming a perfect cup. That done, he held the cup under the spigot, filled it with water, then handed it to Sally. “Here you go, my dear.”

“Oh, what a marvelous thing to know,” Sally said with a broad smile.

“I learned this during the three years I was a missionary to China,” Sharkey said. “The Chinese are very particular about using community drinking vessels. The only way I could get them to take communion was by providing them with individual cups.”

Sally took the water back to Meagan, who looked very pale.

“I don't blame you for getting a little dizzy there. I was getting a bit woozy myself, watching.”

“That isn't it.” Meagan took the water, drank, then felt the pain in her throat. “Sally, I'm coming down with diphtheria.”

“There are one hundred vials of the serum,” Dr. Taylor said to Deputy Sheriff Gib Crabtree. “Take the buggy. It is seventy-five miles to Rawhide Buttes. I've arranged for you to change teams at Goodwin's Ranch, Davis Ranch, Little Bear, Chugwater, Blue Elder, and Bordeaux. That's every ten miles. You should be able to maintain a steady, ten-mile-per-hour speed, which means you should be to Rawhide Buttes inside of eight hours.”

“Unless I'm held up by weather,” Crabtree said.

“I talked to the stagecoach driver this morning. He said that as of yesterday the roads were clear. And Chugwater and Bordeaux both say there is no snow. I don't foresee any difficulty from the weather. Stop by Lambert's Restaurant before you leave. Norman has fried a chicken to take with you. You can take a bottle of whiskey to help keep you warm and keep up your strength, but don't get drunk.”

“I won't.

When Crabtree came out of Lambert's a few minutes later, he was surprised to see thirty or forty people gathered around the buggy.

“This is a good thing you're doin', Deputy,” said David Friedman, owner of Friedman's Clothing. “I tell you what. When you get back, stop by the store and pick you out a shirt. It'll be on the house.”

“And all the beer you can drink for a week,” added the owner of one of the saloons.

Several other businessmen made similar offers. Someone was holding a sign. G
OD
S
PEED
Y
OU ON
Y
OUR
M
ISSION
, D
EPUTY
C
RABTREE
.

Crabtree thanked everyone, climbed into the buggy, and lashed the back of his team, leaving town at a gallop.