Chapter 7
Matt was looking better now that he was resting comfortably in a soft bed. Mrs. Sparks had brought him some chicken soup, which he had eaten with enthusiasm, and then he had gone to sleep.
Diane worked out that she would have about four hours before he needed another dose of the tinctures she had prescribed him.
They were mostly for fighting off any infection that might be lingering—one never knew with bullet wounds—and for pain.
She would need to keep a close eye on him because blood poisoning could spring up at any time if she hadn’t cleaned the wound well enough before stitching it shut.
It took time to come on, and Diane would need to monitor Matt closely.
Not that there would be much she could do if he did start showing signs. Modern medicine was still sadly deficient in many areas like that one.
She went downstairs and found Ben and Ethan in the dining room.
There were several gentlemen who had taken up station on sofas and comfy chairs by the roaring fire.
Other patrons sat at the bar or at the little tables that were scattered around the room.
It was a pleasant place, full of lively chatter.
Diane found Ben and Ethan at a table by the window. The day was turning cloudier and grayer, and folks seemed intent on getting out of the wind, which was blowing fiercely.
“How is Matt?” Ethan asked as Diane took a seat beside him at the table.
“He’s resting comfortably,” Diane said.
“We were working on a plan to get everything done,” Ethan said. “We only have a few hours and a lot to do.”
“Since tomorrow’s Sunday, we don’t have that as an option,” Ben said.
Diane considered their words. “I don’t understand. What’s the problem? Surely we can get to the market and the apothecary before everything closes?”
“There’s usually a long delay at the market,” Ben said.
“Mr. Fry’s establishment deals with all the precious metals in the area,” Ethan said. “He’s very busy.”
“All right, then drop me off at the apothecary and you two go to the market,” Diane said.
“But then you’re alone,” Ethan said. “San Antonio looks calm and civilized, but it isn’t always the case. There are unruly elements here too.”
That’s so sweet; he’s worried about me.
“Ethan, I’ve been on my own in cities, towns, and backwater slums for years. I can take care of myself,” Diane said with a smile.
“I’m sure you can, but …” his voice trailed off.
She looked at him inquiringly. “But?”
He sighed. “I invited you out here, and I am therefore responsible for your safety. So, I think I should accompany you to the apothecary, and then you can come with me to the bank. We’ve got to fit that in as well.”
“After the market?” Diane asked.
Ethan nodded.
“We’ll never get it all done,” she said.
It was silly. They could drop her off where she needed to be, and she could find her way back on her own. Ethan was being ridiculous, and she took pains to tell him in a very loving manner that he was making things a lot more complicated than they needed to be.
“Fine,” he said eventually. “Gosh, do you always talk at someone until you get your way?”
She considered his question. “Only when they’re being adorably pigheaded,” she said with a smile.
“Fine, we’ll take you to the apothecary and then go about our business,” Ethan said. “Are you happy?”
Diane nodded. “Now, let’s get something to eat and get going.”
They had a quick lunch and set off in their buckboard again. When they stopped outside the apothecary store, Ethan once again tried to convince Diane that he should stay with her.
“I would love to have you with me,” she said. “But it’s not practical. You have things you need to do, and so do I. Let’s meet up somewhere when we’re done.”
“There’s a coffee house down the street,” Ethan said. “I think it’s called Mrs. Pettifleur’s. We’ll come and find you there.”
Diane beamed. “Great, see you soon.”
She walked up the steps to the apothecary store and opened the door.
The smell of tinctures, dried herbs, strong alcohol, and soap made her feel right at home as it wafted over her.
There was something so soothing about all of those smells and the familiar layout of the place with the long counter and the shelves arranged behind it.
Each shelf was packed with smoked glass bottles containing potent liquids.
A young man stood behind the counter and eyed her with interest.
“Afternoon,” he said.
“Afternoon,” she replied. “I have a long list of herbal preparations I need. Would you be able to help me?”
“Ah, sure,” he said. “What do you need them for?”
“You know the mining town nearby?” Diane asked.
“Unity? Yeah, sure, we all know about it. It’s behind a barricade like a medieval town,” he said, grinning.
Diane smiled. “Well, I’m from there. I’m the new nurse, and the clinic needs a whole lot of things.”
“You’re working with Mrs. Carter?”
Diane nodded.
He smiled. “She always comes to get supplies.” He had a dreamy look in his eyes, which told Diane this young man had a bit of an infatuation with Julie. That might be useful in getting some help.
Taking her list from her pocket, Diane stepped up to the counter. “Well, all of this is for her,” she said. “We’re battling a terrible influenza outbreak in the town, so … Hopefully you have what we need.”
The young man’s name was Trevor, and he had recently started working at the apothecary after completing two years of study. He was twenty-one but looked about five years younger.
He talked a lot as he moved about the shelves, looking for the bottles, jars, and bags that held what Diane needed.
Often he would stand staring up at the labels, talking away, looking for something that Diane had spotted minutes earlier.
She was dying to jump over the counter and retrieve all of the things herself.
However, Trevor was trying his best and she had to learn some patience.
As the items began to line up on the counter with Trevor carefully placing each bottle down when he had it, Diane started to realize she might not be able to carry all of this out of the store with her. It was a lot.
“I can pack it in crates for you,” Trevor said. “Then, when your friends come back with the buckboard, they can load it up.”
“That would be wonderful,” Diane said. “Thank you so much, Trevor. You’ve been a huge help. Julie will be so grateful for the way you’ve assisted me.”
Trevor blushed right up to the roots of his blond hair and turned quickly away.
She helped him to pack everything into crates and stack them at the end of the counter. There were four crates in total and two brown hessian sacks of other dried herbs as well. Then there was a linen bag of rolled bandages and gauze and other odds and ends.
Diane paid partly with the money Julie had given her from the store and partly with her own money. Some of the items she had bought weren’t strictly on Julie’s list, but Diane felt they needed them. If the flu kept getting worse, then they would need the extra things she’d bought.
After thanking Trevor again and promising to be back for her things before long, she stepped out onto the street.
San Antonio was larger than Unity but smaller than Boston.
It was bustling and alive with people going about their business.
Everyone seemed to have places to be and things to do, except for one man.
He stood at the corner of the street, his graying hair blown up from his head, making it stand straight up.
Wrapped in a coat, he looked lost, and a little perplexed, perhaps.
Diane, always a nurse first and foremost, walked down the street toward him. As she got closer to him, his gaze fixed on her.
“Afternoon. Are you all right, sir?”
“Sir?” he asked in a grave, low voice. “No one’s called me that in a while.”
She smiled. “Would you prefer me to call you by your name?”
He considered that. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I have enemies.” He nodded as though to emphasize his words. “A lot of them, and I’m not sure who to trust.” Then he frowned, and his intense blue eyes fixed properly on her. “Who are you?”
“I’m Diane Hart. I’m a nurse,” she said in a kind voice. She’d dealt with patients like this before. Sometimes folks lost their grasp on reality, and they started to think that everyone was out to get them, that no one was on their side, and the world was pitted against them.
One of the doctors she had worked with had called it “dissociating.” He said it happened when someone suffered a terrible shock they couldn’t deal with, so reality slipped through their fingers until they could perhaps be coaxed back.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asked. “I’m buying.”
At that, he brightened up.
“I have a lot of money,” he said.
“Well, then you can buy,” she said and then looked around. “I don’t know where to go. Do you?”
He looked around as though getting his bearings. “This way.” He gestured with a large hand.
They walked down the street. He was an imposing fellow, tall and broad-shouldered, and seemed more oriented to time and place than Diane had expected him to be.
Mrs. Pettifleur’s was a large store that opened onto a shaded area in the back. Diane was certain that in summer, courting couples would sit under the trees at little tables and whisper sweet nothings in each other’s ears.
In the throes of a cold snap, the garden was empty, and the tables inside were packed. Diane and her mystery companion bought coffee at the counter and then found a spot.
Sitting at a table, Diane turned to her companion. “So, what do I call you?”
He thought for a moment. “Douglas,” he said.
“Douglas,” she said. “Where are you from? Not from here, judging by your accent.”
“No, not here,” he agreed. “You’re not from here either.”
“True,” she said. “Are you visiting?”
“I’m looking for allies,” Douglas said. “I’ve got enemies, you know.”
“You mentioned that. Who are these enemies?”
“Powerful men. I think they’ve infiltrated my friends’ stronghold, and I don’t know who I can trust.”