“It is so predictable. 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?” Lon asked. “You should be taken seriously.”
Mercy sighed. “Human nature is 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.”
“But your idea about the cause of cholera is based on what male doctors have discovered, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “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? How many people would they have lost if Dr. Mercy Gabriel hadn’t shown up? Was he the only one who wondered this?
He found himself moving toward this woman. 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 confused he felt by his own reaction to her….
LYN COTE
and her husband, her real-life hero, became in-laws recently when their son married his true love. Lyn already loves her daughter-in-law and enjoys this new adventure in family stretching. Lyn and her husband still live on the lake in the north woods, where they watch a bald eagle and its young soar and swoop overhead throughout the year. She wishes the best to all her readers. You may email Lyn at [email protected] or write her at P.O. Box 864, Woodruff WI 54548. And drop by her blog, www.strongwomenbravestories.blogspot.com, to read stories of strong women in real life and in true-to-life fiction. “Every woman has a story. Share yours.”
Her Healing Ways
Lyn Cote
MILLS & BOON
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There is no difference between Jews and Gentiles, between slaves and free men, between men and women; you are all one in union with Christ.
—Galatians 3:28
Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?
Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.
—Ecclesiastes 4:11, 12
To Irene, Gail, Lenora, Patt, Carol, Kate, Val, Lois and Marty! Thanks for being my friends.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Idaho Territory, September 1868
High on the board seat, Mercy Gabriel sat beside the wagon master on the lead Conestoga. The line of the supply train slowed, pulling into the mining town Idaho Bend. Panicky-looking people ran toward it with bags and valises in hand. What was happening here? Like a cold, wet finger, alarm slid up Mercy’s spine.
She reached down and urged her adopted daughter Indigo up onto the seat beside her, away from the onrushing people. Though almost sixteen now, Indigo shrank against Mercy, her darker face tight with concern. “Don’t worry,” Mercy whispered as confidently as she could.
She looked down at a forceful man who had pushed his way to the front. He was without a coat, his shirt-sleeves rolled up and his colorfully embroidered vest buttoned askew. From the flamboyant vest, she guessed he must be a gambler. What would he want with them?
With one sweeping glance, he quelled the people shoving each other to get closer to the wagons. A commanding gambler. In her opinion, an unusual combination.
“Are there any medical supplies on this train?” he asked in a calm tone at odds with the mood of the people crowding around. “Two days ago, we telegraphed to Boise, asking for a doctor to come. But no one has. We’ve got cholera.”
The dreaded word drenched the brave, brawny wagoners; they visibly shrank back from the man. It set off the crowd clamoring again.
Mercy’s pulse raced. No, not cholera. Yet she hesitated only a second before revealing the truth about herself. Until this moment, she’d just been another traveler, not an object of mirth, puzzlement or derision. She braced herself for the inevitable reactions and rose. “I am a qualified physician.”
Startled, the frantic crowd stopped pushing. As usual, every head swiveled, every face gawked at her.
“You?” the gambler challenged. “You’re a woman.”
Mercy swallowed a number of sardonic responses to this silly comment. She said, “I am a recent graduate of the Female Medical College of Pennsylvania. I also worked alongside Clara Barton as a nurse throughout the Civil War.”
“You nursed in the war?” The gambler studied her, a quizzical expression on his face.
“Yes.” Leaning forward, she held out her gloved hand. “I am Dr. Mercy Gabriel. And this is my assistant, Nurse Indigo.”
He hesitated only a moment. Then, reaching up, he grasped her hand for a firm, brief handshake. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m Lon Mackey. Will you come and help us?”
She wondered fleetingly why a gambler was taking charge here. She would have expected a mayor or—
Renewed commotion from the crowd, almost a mob now, grabbed her attention. People were trying to climb aboard the supply wagons. “Get us out of this town!” one of them shouted.
No, that would be disastrous! “Stop them,” Mercy ordered, flinging up a hand. “No one from this town should be allowed to leave. They could infect everyone on the supply train and spread the disease to other towns.”
At this, the wagoners rose and shouted, “Keep back! Quarantine! Quarantine!”
This only spurred the people of the mining town to try harder.
The head wagoner put out an arm, keeping Mercy and Indigo from getting down.