Sawbones (17 page)

“Mr. Franklin? I hope…I don't know quite how to ask you this.”

“Ask me anything.”

“The items on this table”—I motioned to the table to my right—“I believe they are mine. I am sure it is a misunderstanding.” I roamed my eyes over the items I suspected came from our wagon train, clothes and small household items. I wondered what had become of the larger items he couldn't sell in the sutler's store, such as tables, chairs, and iron stoves. They were valuable and would not have been left for another looter if he could make a profit.

“Yes,” he said. “A grave misunderstanding. I assumed the possessions you wanted to keep were taken with you.”

“On the contrary, I left a wagon full of items. It was more important we get Captain Kindle to Fort Richardson quickly.”

“Please, take what is yours.”

I sighed theatrically. “They have such horrible associations with them now.” I picked up a bonnet Maureen had bought in Austin and sniffed. It smelled like smoke and burning flesh.

“I can understand.”

“Could I…? No, I couldn't ask it of you.” I turned away as if under high emotion and sniffed dramatically.

“What is it, Dr. Elliston?”

“I…” I turned back to him. “Would you be willing to take these things off of my hands? For a small price. Maybe a hundred dollars?”

Franklin laughed. “That's no small price. I won't be able to get half as much for your items.”

“You sold my blanket for five.”

His eyes narrowed. He realized I was playing him. “I will give you fifty.”

I picked up a silver pocket watch and opened it. In the front was a picture of my father and mother on their wedding day. It was easily the most valuable item on the table. “Seventy-five and you will supply Corporal Martin with the materials he needs to build shelves in the hospital kitchen.”

“Ain't a good deal for me.”

“I hoped we would be able to work this out ourselves.” I sighed again before smiling at the sutler. “People have been so nice to me here. Like Henry Pope. Do you know him?”

“The newspaperman.”

“Yes. He wants to do a big story on me. I demurred, of course. But, now that I think of it, I would greatly enjoy telling of my experience. Every facet of it.”

He took the hint. Franklin smirked. “Seventy-five dollars and shelves is a reasonable price.”

I shook his hand. “Thank you.” I lifted the pocket watch. “I cannot part with this. It is a family heirloom. You understand.”

“Perfectly.”

I smiled. “I'll take cash.”

He moved behind the counter and took seventy-five dollars from his till and handed it to me with a forced smile.

“Nice doing business with you,” I said.

“It is the least I can do for the woman who saved Captain Kindle's life.”

“Captain Kindle is universally respected?”

“He is highly thought of in many quarters.”

“I must do what I can to make sure he regains his health. Good day.”

I went straight to Foster's office. I wondered how the Army could let a man like Franklin openly deal in the goods of the dead, the people the Army was here to protect.

“Ah, Dr. Elliston.” Foster stood when I entered his office. “I was coming to find you.”

“Were you?”

“Yes. Harriet Mackenzie came to see me. It appears the two of you have gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“That is putting it mildly.”

“I understand your point of view.”

“How do you know my point of view?”

“Harriet told me you were examining the laundresses in the hospital in an effort to stave off”—he coughed—“you know.”

“Does the Army have a problem with that?”

“No. It's the second most-common complaint of our soldiers.”

“What is the first?”

“Drunkenness, unfortunately. As to the other, it is an admirable idea and a good one. Since women are the cause of it they should be responsible for stopping it…”

“I don't think…”

“But, I do agree with Miss Mackenzie that it's inappropriate for you to examine these women in the post hospital. In the officers' room, no less!”

“Where do you suggest I examine them?”

“In their quarters.” He gestured vaguely. “They are on the road to Jacksboro somewhere.”

“Where would you like for me to examine the officers' wives and children?”

“In the hospital, naturally.”

“I don't see the difference between one civilian and the other.”

“Don't be obtuse, Doctor. You know there is a difference.”

“I suppose I must treat the enlisted men's wives with medicines from my own stores?”

“You have stores of medicine?”

“Yes. A trunkful that was, thankfully, brought with me to the fort. Otherwise, Tom Franklin's inventory of medicine would be fatter.”

“What are you saying?”

“I find it curious the Army is short-supplied but the sutler's shelves are almost overflowing with medicine.”

“His is a private business. It has nothing to do with the Army.”

“It is on your fort. Why don't you requisition the items you need from Franklin and pay him back when the supply train arrives?”

“He charges exorbitant prices.”

“Which you allow?”

“Again, it is a private business.”

“Here at the Army's discretion. Threaten to revoke his permission unless he loans you what material you need.”

“The arrangement doesn't work that way, Miss Elliston. If it became common practice for the Army to steal goods and services from the people who support the fort we would never be able to contract with another sutler. He may charge too much, but the men rely on his store for items the Army does not supply. Our supply problems should be remedied when the new surgeon arrives from Sill with the supply train and payroll.”

“The shortage is severe. As far as I can tell, what items you are receiving, which are always fewer than ordered, are not making it into storage. I believe they are on Franklin's shelves.”

“That is a harsh accusation! How do you suppose he is getting our supplies?”

I did not want to accuse Waterman without proof, which I did not have. “I do not know.”

“I won't even try to illustrate for you how difficult it is to supply remote forts such as Richardson. Flooding from this rain isn't helping. There are thieves all over Texas, mostly lawless, Godless Confederates who look for any chance to take from the government, and there are more than enough wagon trains and supply trains to choose from. Really, Dr. Elliston, I appreciate your concern but this isn't something you need to worry about. What I need you to do is to take care of the soldiers who come to you with complaints, figure out whose sickness is genuine and whose isn't, and treat them. Leave supplying the fort to me. What's in your hand?”

“My father's watch.”

“A nice heirloom to give to your son one day.” Foster was shifting papers around on his desk and losing interest in my complaints and me.

“Imagine my surprise when I discovered it on a table in Tom Franklin's store, along with most of my other possessions.”

Foster was still focused on his papers, distracted. “Hmm.” He stacked the papers, straightened them and looked up with a smile. “Is there anything else?”

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“Yes, Miss Elliston, I did. It is a lovely watch and will make a wonderful heirloom.”

“Franklin was selling this watch—my father's watch that was given to him by his father—in his store. I have already gotten a lesson on soldiers looting from Captain Kindle in the aftermath of the massacre. As reprehensible as it was, I overlooked it because these soldiers have little of their own. Am I to understand it's normal for merchants to loot the abandoned possessions of unfortunate victims and sell them for a profit?”

“The key word there is abandoned, Miss Elliston.”

“It is
Doctor
Elliston. They were abandoned because their owners were brutally murdered. For someone to take their possessions and sell them without regard to respect for the dead beggars belief.”

“What would you have the alternative be, Dr. Elliston? Leave these perfectly good items in the middle of the plains for the next set of settlers, or cowboys on a drive to loot? Because make no mistake, there will be little left before long. Anything useful will be taken. Those poor dead people have no need for candles or coffeepots six feet under the ground.”

“It is reprehensible he is selling these items.”

“You think he should give them away?” Foster laughed.

“Or leave them for other settlers, yes.”

“It is nice to see a woman such as you—”

“A woman such as me?”

“—have such charitable feminine instincts but what you propose had no place in the hardscrabble environment on the frontier. Living here is hard and people try to make their way any way they can. Now, I don't mean to be rude but—”

“You will be anyway.”

“In case you haven't noticed, which would be ironic considering what you've been through, we are in the middle of a war. I receive reports daily about Indian attacks on innocent settlers. They are raiding up and down the Texas frontier, even into Mexico. We have patrols leaving and returning daily and new regiments arriving from across Texas. The fort commander is off hunting the Kiowas who massacared your wagon train. One of my best officers is incapacitated. I have too many other more important matters to deal with and don't have the time, patience, or inclination to listen to soft-hearted pleading from a woman about a subject she is wholly ignorant of.”

“Tell me, Colonel, what is
your
cut of the sutler's business?”

Foster's complexion, already flushed, turned a mottled red. He pulled an envelope from beneath a stack of papers and tapped it in his hand. My name was clearly distinguishable on the front. I swallowed the bile in my throat and wished I could take my accusation back.

Foster's voice dropped to a whisper. “I should kick you off this fort this instant and throw this letter in the fire. I told Sherman you wouldn't be up to the task. Fortunately, the new surgeon should be here within the week. Until then, you are restricted to treating the patients you currently have and any women and children who don't question your credentials or abilities. Waterman will take care of the administration of the hospital. As soon as the surgeon steps foot on Richardson, you will be required to leave, finding your own way to wherever you were bound before fate thrust you on the Army's charity. I do not want to see or hear from you again, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Nauseated and shaking with anger, I left.

Though my anger—at Pope, Franklin, Foster, but mostly myself—had diminished to a glowing ember by the time I entered Kindle's quarters that evening, seeing Harriet Mackenzie sitting at his bedside fanned the flames of my temper.

“What are you doing here?”

“Watching over Captain Kindle.”

I envied Kindle's peaceful, drug-induced sleep. “Where is Caro?”

“I sent her away.”

God, the woman was insufferable. “You had
no right
to do that.”

“As a friend of the captain's I want to help in his recovery however I can. Surely you will not let your animosity toward me cloud your judgment in regards to the captain's health?”

The physical pains the day's events had pushed from my consciousness surged forward on a wave of exhaustion. A headache lurked behind my eyes, throbbed in my temples, and threatened to travel to the base of my skull. The constant dull pain in my shoulder intensified and my mouth took on the tangy, metallic taste that was a precursor to vomiting. I had no energy to spar with Harriet and the small part of me resistant to doing whatever was expected of me, the pinprick of my essence that would never leave me, wanted to disappoint Harriet's ploy to bait me. Mostly, though, I wanted to be alone.

“No. I will not.” I leaned the cane against the table next to Kindle's bed and placed my medical bag, the peppermints, and a book next to the almost empty bottle of laudanum. I took Kindle's pulse, touched his forehead, listened to his breathing, and ignored Harriet Mackenzie.

“
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall
,” Harriet said. “Did you get this from the reading room?”

After leaving Foster's, I had gone to the reading room to calm down and to wait for the women and children who wished to be examined. None showed.

“Yes.”

“I have never read it. Should I?”

“When I finish it, I will tell you.” I buckled my bag. “Caro and I arranged between each other and another nurse for eight-hour shifts. Caro's ends at midnight. Wake me then. Help yourself to the peppermints.”

It was a lie but Harriet didn't know it. With the book and my bag, I headed for the stairs.

“Laura.”

“Yes.” Exhaustion was pulling me further and further into its comforting embrace.

Harriet stood and turned to me. “I want to apologize. For not accepting your apology this morning with more grace.”

“Thank you.”

“Also, for implying your interaction with Captain Kindle is anything other than professional.”

I nodded and climbed the stairs. Harriet's voice stopped me again.

“Is there anything I should know about Captain Kindle's care? Anything I should do?”

“If he wakes and is in pain, give him a dose of laudanum in whisky.”

Harriet nodded. “Sleep as long as you need. You look exhausted.”

“I am.”

I undressed to the sound of a bugler playing taps, signaling the end of my second day at Fort Richardson. By any measure it was horrid. A soldier dead, a child pregnant, a crooked sutler, a curious newspaperman, and an angry fort commander. I sat on the side of the bed and stared at nothing, listening to the plaintive notes of the bugle, remembering the times I had heard it honor fallen soldiers during the war. The final note wavered and slowly died, leaving sadness in its wake. Tomorrow I would hear it twice.