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“Boot
blacking, coffee, cornmeal, flour, soap. Put it on your tab?”
“Thank
you kindly.” The suggestion would, in fact, save him some embarrassment. His
patients had lately been paying in roast chickens, bacon, cream, potatoes, even
horseshoes — all welcome and useful items, but it left him short of coin.
“And
you’ve got a letter.”
This would take some juggling. Joshua
picked up the envelope first, opening it and extracting the letter, tucking the
envelope into his vest and laying the letter on the counter. Next, he grabbed
the sack full of supplies in his left hand and picked up the letter in his
right. That left him without a way to tip his hat, so he nodded his goodbye and
walked out, glancing at the letter as he went. Major, idling in the street,
jumped up to follow.
Joshua knew he had not been a satisfactory correspondent.
The last letter to his mother in which he had mentioned anything of actual
importance had been the letter he sent on his way west, trying to explain why
he had felt compelled to leave his family and his home so far behind. Even as
he sent that letter on its way, he had known it would fail in its mission. What
he had been unable to say to her face, he had been equally unable to put into
words on paper. Either would have required that he call to mind, and then stain
her memory forever by recounting, the life he had lived as a soldier and a
medic. Without that understanding, how could she understand how unreal and
hollow the civilized life of Philadelphia had become for him?
His mother still wrote every two weeks,
however, and he’d
been awaiting her latest for several days. Now he saw what had kept her busy.
His middle sister’s baby had come — except it was twins! A boy and a girl. He
could imagine his younger and oldest sisters knitting madly to deal with the
surprise.
As for his father — what? He was writing a
book?
Joshua had been paying just enough
attention to where he was going that he didn’t trip on the planks in the street or walk
in front of any horses. But not enough, it turned out, to avoid walking smack
into someone. He started backward, dropping his sack, and stammered apologies,
while Major added to the confusion by circling the scene and barking loudly.
His victim, Joshua realized, was the tall
green-eyed woman he had seen in the street the day he first met Mrs. Blum. She
had managed to stay on her feet and now stooped to help him retrieve his
groceries, whisking them away from Major’s investigative sniffing. Her hands looked
strong, with long fingers; it took her almost no time to fill his sack again.
She stood up, neither smiling nor frowning, and handed him the sack. “I hope
that isn’t bad news in your hand.”
He tried to pull himself together enough to
answer her. “Uh,
no, not bad news. Just news. Babies. Two of them. That is, my sister just had
twins.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Congratulations to your
sister! I’m sure she’ll cope splendidly.”
An interesting way to put it. Was she
speaking from experience, and if so, her own or someone else’s?
Manners! What would his mother — or for
that matter, Freida Blum — say? “I beg your pardon. I’m Joshua Gibbs.”
The woman tilted her head slightly and
nodded in what might, unlikely as it seemed, be approval. “The doctor. I’ve heard
of you. People speak well of you.”
Did they? He supposed they might. The
comment left him feeling absurdly pleased. With some difficulty, he suppressed
a foolish grin.
He was becoming curious about the woman’s identity, but
accidental assault was hardly the basis for him to ask about it. She took pity
on him and volunteered the information. “My name is Clara Brook. We’re recent
arrivals. Our farm is a little over four miles to the southwest.” He was not
that good at accents, but thought she might have grown up in or near Kentucky.
Joshua had about an hour before he needed
to be back for his afternoon office hours. How much money did he have on him?
He’d
grabbed a few coins in case he needed them at the general store. It should be enough, at least if he held himself to a single scoop
without toppings. “May
I buy you an ice cream? As an apology for my inexcusable carelessness?”
Miss Brook looked at him gravely. “Hardly inexcusable. I’ve
seen —” She cut off the comment and said instead, “Thank you. That would be
very nice.” Not a fan of hyperbole, it seemed, in others or in her own speech.
Joshua led the way, in case Miss Brook had not yet learned the ice cream
parlor’s location. Major had apparently decided to adopt her, trotting by her
side rather than his master’s. When they reached their destination, Miss Brook
paused and gestured toward the dog. “Does he accompany us or no?”
Joshua shook his head, having decided
previously that ice cream was unlikely to be a good addition to Major’s diet. Miss Brook then
startled Joshua by snapping her fingers toward Major and pointing to a position
near the window. Major immediately sat.
The clerk at the ice cream parlor looked at
Joshua with some surprise as they entered. Joshua asked Miss Brook’s preference, ordered
her single scoop of strawberry along with his own vanilla, paid — narrowly
escaping the embarrassment of coming up short — and carried both plates to the
little table next to the window.
Now what? Well, she knew he had sisters,
one of them with new additions to her family. Surely he could ask after similar
details, at least indirectly. “How have you and your . . . your family been finding Cowbird
Creek? Is it what you hoped, when you decided to settle here?”
Somehow it failed to surprise him when she
avoided a conventional response. “I wouldn’t say we know enough, yet, to
answer that question. Or perhaps I should say we didn’t have very specific
expectations. My parents wanted to buy land, to leave my brother someday, and
there was land for purchase here. It’s a deal of work for the four of us, but
we’re used to work.”
A brother, but no sisters — at least none
still at home. It was unlikely she’d lost sisters in the War of Rebellion,
but she might have had more brothers before that long and bloody nightmare. All
through his childhood, he had wished he had brothers instead of, or in addition
to, three sisters. That wish, too, had died in the war.
It was Joshua’s turn to say something, but nothing came
to mind. Miss Brook did not seem to be one of those women who could set a man
to talking. Or maybe she chose not to do so. He could think of only one inane
question. “What are you growing, or raising?”
Her left eyebrow twitched upward. “The usual, I suppose.
Corn, oats. I have some interest in planting winter wheat, but my father has
not yet agreed. I have a vegetable garden, though I’m still getting accustomed
to the weather and how it affects what I can grow. We raise hogs — and
chickens, of course, but mainly for our own eggs and our own pot.”
He might be carrying home some of those
eggs, some day. They would be good eggs, he’d wager — he guessed she took good care of
the hens.
Before he could come up with some other
conversational gambit, she asked him, “What’s the most surprising thing about
Cowbird Creek? Something we wouldn’t have had a chance to learn yet?”
There was a question he hadn’t heard before. “Hmm.
Let me think.” Madam Mamie’s establishment was tonier than some, but even if
that counted as surprising, he could hardly mention it. And the presence of a
Jewish widow was unusual, but he doubted Mrs. Blum would appreciate being held
up as a local oddity. “Our Chinese laundryman struck it rich — well, maybe not
rich, but close — in the California gold fields.”
Miss Brook smiled, the first smile he’d seen from her, but
quickly went grave again. “I don’t think I’ll mention it to my brother. He used
to hanker after the gold fields himself, and I’d be sorry to remind him.”
She had finished her ice cream, and he
needed to be back for any patients needing him. He took a final spoonful of his
own and stood up. “Miss
Brook, it’s been a pleasure, despite my regrettable way of introducing myself.
I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”
That eyebrow twitched again. “I agree. Though I hope
it won’t be in your professional capacity.”
Cursing his clumsy tongue, he bowed and
escaped back to territory where he was less likely to put a foot wrong.
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Here, as usual, is the preorder link.
