Her Healing Ways. Lyn Cote

cause of the cholera. Only time would tell.

      The last victim of the cholera epidemic died seven days after Mercy and Indigo came to town. When people had begun recovering and going home, the few remaining sick had been moved to one of the small churches in town after it had been scrubbed mercilessly clean. And the vacated saloon was dealt with in the same way. The townspeople doing the cleaning complained about the work, but they did it.

      Eight days after getting off the wagon train, Mercy stood in the church doorway. She gazed out at the sunny day, her body aching with fatigue. She had slept only a few hours each day for the past week, and her mind and body didn’t appreciate that treatment. Only three patients lingered, lying on pallets around the church pulpit.

      The new mayor came striding up the path to the church. “The saloon is clean and back in business.”

      She gazed at him. Even though she was glad there was no longer a need for a large hospital area, did he expect her to say that the saloon being back in business was a good thing?

      “I took up a collection from the people you helped.” He drew out an envelope and handed it to her. “When do you think you’ll be leaving town?”

      Mercy made him wait for her answer. She opened the envelope and counted out four dollars and thirty-five cents. Four dollars and thirty-five cents for saving half the lives in this town of over a thousand. She wasn’t surprised at this paltry amount. After all, she was a female doctor, not a “real” doctor.

      Mercy stared into the man’s eyes. “I have no plans to leave.” She had thought of going on to Boise, but then had decided to stay where she had shown that she knew something about doctoring. Many would discount her efforts to end the epidemic, but others wouldn’t—she hoped. “And, friend, if this town doesn’t want a recurrence of cholera, thee should have all the people inspect their wells and streams.”

      The mayor made a harrumphing sound. “We’re grateful for the nursing you’ve done, but we still believe what real doctors believe. The cholera came from a bad wind a few weeks ago.”

      Mercy didn’t bother to take offense. There are none so blind as those who will not see. “I am not the only doctor who believes that cholera comes from contaminated water. And thee saw thyself that the McCalls’ well was polluted. Would thee drink water with a dead rat in it?”

      The mayor made the same harrumphing sound and ignored her question. “Again, ma’am, you have our gratitude.” He held out his hand.

      Mercy shook it and watched him walk away.

      “The thankless wretch.”

      She turned toward the familiar voice. Lon Mackey lounged against the corner of the small white clapboard church. He looked different than the first time they’d met. His clothing was laundered and freshly pressed, and his colorful vest was buttoned correctly. He was a handsome man. She chuckled at his comment.

      “It is so predictable.” She drew in a long breath. “I’ve heard it all before. ‘You’re just a woman. What could you possibly know?’ Over and over.”

      “Why do you put up with it?”

      She chuckled again.

      The sound irritated Lon. “I don’t know what’s funny about this. You should be taken seriously. How much did the town pay you?”

      Mercy sighed, handing him the envelope. “Human nature is what’s funny. Even when confronted by the truth about the cause of the epidemic, the average male and most females refuse to believe a woman would know more than a man would.”

      They’d paid her less than five dollars. He voiced his disgust by saying, “But your idea about the cause of cholera is based on what male doctors have discovered, isn’t it?”

      She nodded, tucking the envelope into the small leather purse in her skirt pocket. “But I could have gotten it wrong. I am, after all, just a poor, inferior, weak female who must always defer to men who always know better than women do.”

      Her words grated against his nerves like sandpaper on sensitive skin. Why? Was he guilty of thinking this, too? He found himself moving toward this woman. He shut his mouth. He didn’t want to know more about Dr. Mercy Gabriel. He didn’t want to walk toward her, but she drew him. He offered her his hand to cover how disgruntled and confused he felt by his reaction to her.

      She smiled and shook it. “I thank thee, Lon Mackey. Thee didn’t balk very much at following a woman’s directions.”

      He didn’t know what to say to this. Was she teasing him or scolding him? Or being genuine? He merely smiled and turned away. The saloon was open again and he had to win some money to pay for his keep.

      He would be staying in the saloon almost round the clock for the next few days—he’d seen the men of the town coming back full force. How had he come this far from the life he’d been born to? The answer was the war, of course.

      He walked toward the saloon, hearing voices there louder and rowdier than usual. No doubt watching the wagons carrying people to the cemetery made men want to forget the harsh realities of life with lively conversation and laughter. Nearly seventy people had succumbed to cholera. How many would they have lost if Dr. Mercy Gabriel hadn’t shown up? Was he the only one who wondered this?

      And why wouldn’t the Quaker woman leave his mind?

      Images of Mercy over the past few hectic days popped into his mind over and over again. Mercy kneeling beside a patient and then rising to go to the next, often with a loud, burdened sigh. Mercy speaking softly to a weeping relative. Mercy staggering to a chair and closing her eyes for a short nap and then rising again. He passed a hand over his forehead as if he could wipe away the past week, banish Mercy Gabriel from his mind. But she wasn’t the kind of woman a man could forget easily. But I must.

      Chapter Three

      The morning after the final patient had recovered, Mercy decided it was time to find both a place to live and a place to start her medical practice. She wondered if she should ask Lon Mackey for help.

      As she stood looking down the main street of the town, Indigo said, “Aunt Mercy?”

      Mercy looked into Indigo’s large brown eyes. Indigo had always called her Aunt Mercy—the title of “mother” had never seemed right to either of them. “Yes?”

      “Are we going to stand here all day?” Indigo grinned.

      Mercy leaned her head to the side. “I’m sorry. I was lost in thought.” She didn’t reveal that the thoughts had been about Lon Mackey. He had vanished several days ago, returning to the largest saloon on the town’s one muddy street. His abrupt departure from their daily life left her hollow, blank, somehow weakened.

      Indigo nodded as if she had understood both Mercy’s thoughts and gaze.

      Mercy drew in a deep breath and hoped it would revive her. This was the place she had been called to. Only time would reveal if it would become home. “Let’s pull the trunk along. There must be some rooming houses in a town this size.” The two of them moved to the drier edge of the muddy track through town.

      Mercy’s heart stuttered as she contemplated once again facing a town unsympathetic to a female doctor and a black nurse. Lon Mackey’s withdrawal from her sphere also blunted her mood. As she strode up the unpaved street, she tried to center herself, calm herself. God is a very present help in time of trouble. Lon Mackey helped me and accepted me for what I am—there will surely be others, won’t there?

      A large greenwood building with big hand-painted letters announcing “General Store” loomed before her. Mercy left the trunk on the street with Indigo and entered. Her heart was now skipping beats.

      “Good day!” she greeted a man wearing a white apron standing behind the rough wood-slab counter. “I’m new in town and looking for lodging. Can thee recommend a boardinghouse here?”

      The man squinted at her. “You’re