Chapter 13
“MOVE ON, ANGEL.” Dodge nudged the mare’s flank and guided her back through the herd, watching for signs of illness.
After discovering two sickly cows that morning, he’d sent for Doc Wyatt.
Despite his unease, he told himself the dread pressing in his chest came from knowing he still had to break the news to Bethie after school—and nothing else.
“Seein’ anything over there, boss?” Jake hollered from across the pasture.
Dodge shook his head. “You?”
“No, sir. Not a one.”
“Maybe it’s just the two we found.”
“You think they’re gonna make it?”
“We’ll see what Doc says. I’m heading in. Come find me if anything else turns up.” Dodge spurred Angel into a canter toward the lower barn, Jessie racing alongside.
Sawyer, the newest—and youngest—farmhand, ran out to meet him, eager as ever. At twelve, the boy reminded Dodge of himself. Maybe that was why he’d hired him two weeks earlier when Sawyer came asking for work, saying he’d do anything if he could just learn to be a cattleman.
“Let me take Angel for you, sir!”
“Thanks, Sawyer. Rub her down good.”
“You bet I will. Maybe give her extra oats?”
The boy’s exuberance coaxed a smile. “A little won’t hurt. Doc inside?”
“Yes, sir. With them sickly ones.”
Dodge found Doc Wyatt kneeling in a stall, glasses riding low on his nose. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”
“Afraid it doesn’t look good. I’m glad you culled these two when you did.”
“What do you think it is?”
“While I’m not certain, my best guess would be—”
“Texas fever,” Dodge said quietly.
Doc glanced back. “You already knew . . .”
“More like suspected.” Dodge removed his hat and raked a hand through his hair.
“Any cattleman worth his salt has heard of it.” He studied the cows collapsed in the hay.
“Weakness in the limbs. Blood in the urine. They were stumbling and groaning when I found them. But if it’s Texas fever wouldn’t you find—”
Doc Wyatt held up a dingy white kerchief splotched with blood—and containing numerous enlarged ticks. “These were still alive when I pulled them off.”
Dread hardened Dodge’s stomach. “What about the seventy-five steers ready for market? We’re driving them to Tullahoma today.”
Doc shook his head. “Not with this, you’re not. If it is the fever, you’ll be shut down for weeks. Maybe months.”
Dodge let that sink in, hearing the money he’d hoped to earn drain away. “No sales to national markets. No local buyers either. The lost revenue will be sizable.”
“I’m afraid it might be a lot worse than that, Dodge.
Because the fever tick—if that’s what it is—isn’t your usual cattle tick.
After mating, the females don’t drop off after each molt like usual.
They stay attached, feeding until their life cycle’s nearly spent.
Then they drop off, lay thousands of eggs, and die.
The larvae live in the grass until other animals happen along and—”
“It starts all over again.” Dodge glanced out the open door of the barn. “So you’re telling me I not only have a pasture full of sick cows, but that a whole slew of tick eggs are in field grass ready to hatch?”
“I’m afraid that’s the big and small of it. But remember, I don’t know for sure yet that it is Texas fever.”
“Don’t you, though, Doc?”
The older man hesitated. “If we’re right, and I hope we’re not .
. . the sick ones won’t last long. Emaciation, fever, anemia, blood in the urine, then death follows fast. That’ll pretty much answer the question.
I’ll send these ticks to a colleague who works for the Department of Agriculture in DC.
See what he says. But I don’t know of any medicine able to treat this. ” He started to stand, then faltered.
Dodge grabbed his arm. “You okay there, Doc?”
The older man straightened and rubbed his lower back. “I’m fine. Just old as these hills, that’s all.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You’ll need to check the entire herd. Horses too. Quarantine anything showing symptoms. And don’t move the cows from that pasture.”
Dodge nodded. “How long does a field stay infected?”
“Weeks. Sometimes months. All depends on the vitality of the young ticks. Dead of winter is a struggle for them. But spring . . .”
“Can people get it?” Dodge pictured Bethie riding Ginger Snap all over that field the previous afternoon.
“I don’t know, but best to take precautions until we do.”
They walked to Doc Wyatt’s wagon.
“I appreciate you coming so fast, Doc. I’ll let Uncle Jack know.”
“Hopefully things won’t go as bad as I’ve laid out.”
“In all the years I’ve known you, Doc, I don’t ever recall you being wrong.”
The older man laughed. “That’s because you weren’t around in my early days. I made plenty of mistakes. The secret, I learned early on, is always learning from them. Never waste a hurt, as my dear Lucille used to say.”
Dodge sobered. “How’re you getting along, sir? I know you still miss her. It’s been what? Two years?”
“Two years, two months, and four days.” Doc’s gaze drifted to the hills. “But we had sixty-one wonderful years together. Well, most of them were good anyway.” He winked, then sighed. “I always thought I’d go first. What with my heart condition. But God had other plans.”
“He often does,” Dodge said softly.
“Oh to be young again like you, Dodge, with your whole life stretching out before you.” He gripped Dodge’s shoulder.
“You and Bethie will be sorely missed. I still can’t picture this distillery, this holler, without you all in it.
Won’t be the same. There’ve been Coburns here since before Lynchburg became a real town.
And despite what you’ve always said, I still held out hope you might take my place one day once I’m gone. ”
“I’m a cattleman, sir. Not a doctor.”
Doc laughed. “That’s not what Dr. Salmon used to say. He claimed you devoured every medical book in his library, and kept coming back for more.”
Dodge didn’t answer immediately. “I know what I was born to do. And once a man knows that . . . nothing else compares.” He glanced around, lowering his voice.
“Please keep this between us for now, but . . . I’ve decided not to go to Wyoming.
I can’t take Bethie out there alone. It was different when Kathleen was alive.
I’ve known for a while now it wasn’t going to work.
Just took me some time to accept it, I guess. ”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Dodge. Sorry as I can be. How’d Bethie take it?”
“I haven’t told her yet.”
Doc whistled low. “I don’t envy you that talk.
She’s a handful, just like her mother was, God rest her.
” He smiled faintly. “I don’t see dandelions but what I don’t think of Kathleen.
She made the best dandelion wine I ever had.
And I’ve had my share.” Doc Wyatt glanced in the direction of the distillery.
“I know this isn’t what you wanted for your life. At least, not for the rest of it.”
“But it’s a good life,” Dodge said a little too quickly. “And Uncle Jack’s been real good to me.”
“As well he should. You’ve helped make him a very rich man.
And I’m not talking about just being his cattle foreman.
I heard what happened yesterday with Hackett and Cartwright.
Nobody else could’ve handled that like you did.
You’re respected. Even by men hoping to take your job.
” Doc climbed up to the buckboard. “I’ll send word the minute I hear from DC. ”
Dodge gathered his supervisors, ordered quarantine signs posted, then headed back down to the distillery, Jessie on his heels. School would let out soon and he wanted to be there to meet Bethie. He’d take her for candy at the mercantile then once they got home, he’d break the news.
But first, he needed to talk to Uncle Jack.
The office was empty, but Jack’s suit coat still hung on the coat tree. Dodge penned a note and started to leave it atop the desk, then saw the chaos of paperwork and left it on his chair instead. He’d swing back by on their way home.
Josephine closed the front door of the boarding house behind her and hurried to the street, later than planned.
Turning right, she followed the directions Miss Mary had left in a note on the kitchen table before heading to an afternoon appointment.
The town square lay a short walk ahead and, judging by the wagons and foot traffic, business was brisk.
Calla had heated water for a bath, and Josephine had nearly cried when she sank into the soothing warmth, her aching muscles finally yielding.
At Calla’s urging she washed her hair, then sat out back in the sunshine, towel-drying it before sweeping the curls up with borrowed pins and a comb.
For a brief moment she almost felt like a new woman—until she caught her reflection in a mirror.
She looked every inch a battered wife and would keep to that story, ring or no ring, though losing her mother’s ring still stung. She could tell Miss Mary didn’t fully believe her anyway. The woman had an uncanny intuition and a bluntness both admirable and unnerving.
At the square, a handsome courthouse sat in the center, and Josephine paused to reread the note.
Cross the square and turn right at the mercantile.
Continue past the blacksmith and dry goods store.
That road leads from town. After a fair piece, you’ll see a white-framed house with a front porch on your right.
You can’t miss it. Don’t worry about knocking.
That’s Mr. Daniel’s office. Go on in and introduce yourself, and give him the envelope.
Mrs. Dunham, please be mindful of the skirt and blouse I’ve made loan to you.
They belonged to a dear friend who passed away last year. So your care is greatly appreciated.