Chapter Twenty-Three
The doctor bent over Lisa, gently placing his stethoscope against her chest and listening to her breathe. It looked more like a musical instrument than a medical device, made of brass and resembling a trumpet.
Perhaps he can play a cavalry charge on it and frighten her illness into submission, she mused, and nearly laughed aloud.
All humor in her quickly dried up as Dr. Bruin’s red brows drew together.
He was of indeterminate age, older than herself but not nearly in his dotage; he seemed permanently reddened by the sun, his skin blending into his shock of red hair.
A pair of bushy sideburns seemed almost an extension of his face, like mandibles.
The doctor repositioned himself, eyes closing as he listened to Lisa breathe. He frowned, and Alexandra’s stomach grew heavy as lead in response.
“Well,” he said at last, straightening, “it’s not good news.”
Alexandra felt her head go light, and she immediately grasped the back of the chair next to Lisa’s bed. The doctor reached for her and took her arm reassuringly.
“Don’t lose hope,” he said, his words tinted by a brogue that Alexandra couldn’t quite place. He smiled, his sun-chapped lips stretching. “It’s pneumonia, but not the worst case I’ve seen, not by half.”
“What do you recommend for a treatment?” Alexandra asked, loosening her grip on the chair slightly.
The doctor frowned down at Lisa, who was dozing lightly, her breathing shallow and laborious.
He bent down and touched her wrist, pulling back the sleeve on her nightrail.
Alexandra stiffened when he did so; she knew that bleeding had been the common treatment for pneumonia for ages, but it was quickly falling out of favor with the more enlightened physicians back east.
To her relief, the doctor seemed merely to be taking her pulse, his face thoughtful. His gray and ginger brows drew together. “Heart’s strong and regular. That’s the best news I’ll give you tonight.” He straightened. “I imagine she’s quite active when she’s well, isn’t she?”
“Oh, yes,” Alexandra agreed with a smile. “She’s hard to keep indoors.”
“Mm,” Dr. Bruin hummed, placing a hand on Lisa’s forehead. “It’s the lungs that have been at her a good while, then. How long?”
“Since the war,” Alexandra confirmed. “Pleurisy. She nursed in Philadelphia.”
“Ach, pity that,” he tutted. “And you’ve been feeding her tea and broth?”
“Yes, sir, beef tea and tea with ginger in it. I’d heard that ginger can help with maladies of the lungs,” Alexandra explained.
“Good girl,” the doctor said approvingly.
“Try to get her to take some eggs as well for strength. If y’can, find some sage that grows in the desert--wee little purple flowers, hardy green stems. It can also help ease her illness.
Keep giving her warm plasters as much as she can stand, and I’ll leave you with some ipecac if she gets worse; it may be necessary for her to purge this illness. ”
He paused with his hand on the satchel. “And mind me on one thing. When she starts to feel well, she’ll want to be up and doing. Don’t let her. A second bout comes on faster than the first, and it takes more with it. I’ve buried folk who thought they were over it.”
Alexandra nodded, accepting the little brown bottle that the doctor handed her from his bag. He snapped the leather satchel closed. He put his hand on Alexandra’s shoulder and squeezed it.
“Take heart,” he said, smiling again. “She’s a strong lass, and you’ve taken good care of her. The night isn’t so bleak yet.”
Alexandra nodded and managed a small smile. He had a genial bedside manner that she imagined comforted his patients’ families as much as his patients.
Dr. Bruin paused on his way to the bedroom door and turned back around.
“I feel I also must offer my apologies, Madam,” he said, his face truly contrite.
“Myself and the missus would have liked to have called on ye to pay our respects sooner, but to tell the truth of it, we weren’t sure if you all would still be deep in yer mourning. ”
“Oh,” Alexandra murmured. “No, no apologies necessary. I suppose we’ve not really been observing a formal mourning period.
It didn’t seem like it would be good for the children.
” She had told Aidan the neighbors stayed away because of his manners.
They had stayed away out of respect for his brother.
“Aye,” he said thoughtfully, scratching at one of his prodigious sideburns. “I don’t imagine it would be. I firmly believe that what every young person needs is fresh air, exercise, and good food. A loving family will help shield them from the worst of it.”
“I admit I have grown rather fond of them,” she admitted.
Dr. Bruin grinned at her. “Well, then you’re doing just fine by them. I’ll tell the missus that you’re not ill-disposed toward company. That is, when your aunt is on the mend,” he added.
Alexandra thanked him, and he saw himself out after a polite little bow. The door didn’t close fully behind him, leaving a small gap.
Through the gap she could hear Aidan’s deep voice, the words indistinct. Alexandra crept closer to the door.
“…no cause for complete alarm just now,” Dr. Bruin was saying in plummy tones. “She’s a good head on her shoulders, your wife has, and she’s doing right by her aunt. We must wait and see now.”
“Thank you for coming out on such short notice,” Aidan said, his words a little clearer. “About your bill—”
“I won’t hear of it,” Dr. Bruin objected. “I know how hard things are just now, and you’ve three little ones to boot.”
“You’ve got to eat too,” Aidan said plainly.
“Well, the wife might tell you differently on that score,” the doctor said with a merry chuckle. “Consider this a late wedding present.”
Aidan grumbled deep in his chest, a sound Alexandra knew well by now. She could see his face in her mind’s eye: dark brows pulled in together, jaw set tightly, mouth turned down at the corners.
“If you insist,” he said at last. With that, there was the sound of footsteps retreating.
Alexandra turned back to her aunt. There was something about the discussion that nagged at her, but she couldn’t quite place it. Whatever it was, it was driven from her mind by another round of hacking coughs from Lisa. Alexandra went to her, helped her upright, and rubbed her back soothingly.
Whatever the doctor’s reassurances, she knew good and well how dangerous pneumonia could turn. As she held that shivering, coughing body, Alexandra closed her eyes and prayed that this wouldn’t be the last memory she would make of her.
***
Alexandra pushed an errant curl back from her forehead as she kneaded the day’s bread.
She had gotten a late start on the baking; between the doctor’s visit and tending to Lisa, she wasn’t really underway until midmorning.
The children had been dispatched to fetch eggs and tend the garden, which let her keep an eye on them from the back door and the window above the wash basin.
She buried her fists into the dough, over and over again. It let her mind wander. It was quiet, almost serene at the house: the kitchen smelled of baking, the children were getting along nicely, and Lisa had at last stilled and was sleeping peacefully.
She mulled over Dr. Bruin’s advice and his clandestine conversation with Aidan.
She couldn’t prove it, but she suspected the fiscal situation at the ranch was not as smooth as Aidan’s ad had led her to believe.
There had been a lot of animals leaving the ranch, and there were no hands to speak of other than the redoubtable Mr. Byrne.
She bit her lip, folding the bread dough and pressing it down again.
If she was correct, she couldn’t really ask Aidan to keep running into town to buy plasters and other medicines for her aunt—she’d have to make do on her own.
She’d sewn up pockets for plasters as a young lady during the war, while her aunt was away nursing, so that wasn’t a problem.
She might even be able to procure mustard seeds more cheaply in town.
There was also the sage. She resolved to go out and scout for it if the moment arose.
She looked glumly around the kitchen, at the bread that still needed baking, the mountain of dishes that needed washing, and the pile of laundry that was beginning to overtake the basket.
It would be difficult to find a spare moment to take a breath, never mind gallivanting off up in the hills to look for cures.
I could ask Mr. Byrne, she thought, smiling. I bet he’d do it for Lisa in a trice.
Her merry thoughts were disrupted by a knock at the front door. She looked up, frowning. The only people who’d knocked on the door thus far were the doctor and Mr. Byrne. It didn’t seem likely to be Mr. Byrne, as it was the middle of the workday.
Perhaps Dr. Bruin’s horse threw a shoe, she thought. Wiping her hands on her apron, she made her way through the house.
Later, she would blame her fatigue for not looking out the window first. As it was, she pulled the door open wide, expecting to see a friendly face. Instead, a stranger was standing there, a gaunt scarecrow of a man dressed in all black.
Alexandra took an unconscious step back, angling her body partially behind the door. The man, as if sensing her unease, took off his hat and offered her an oily smile.
“Can I help you?” Alexandra asked cautiously.
“I sure hope so, ma’am,” he said, all polite manners.
“I’m looking for Mr. Rawlins, Mr. Aidan Rawlins.
I do believe that you’re his lovely new wife.
Might I say, you looked a right picture at your wedding.
Why, I half-wished that I could have put you up on my cabinet door like those fancy cards so I could take you out and look at you whenever I wanted. ”
Alexandra bristled at the familiarity. She did her best to hide her revulsion, not wanting to offend a customer or acquaintance of Aidan’s.
“You were at the wedding,” she stated flatly. “You were standing at the back of the church.”