into the fact that Elijah called her “Miss Alice” instead of “Miss Hawthorne”? Flustered, she focused on removing the old dressing. She could hardly correct their impression if they didn’t voice it.
She found the wound was continuing to heal well, and his wife reported there’d been no recurrence of fever. Thank God. Alice quickly redressed the wound and bid them good-night.
* * *
After Elijah returned to the Thornton tent, he found his brothers preparing to retire. “I didn’t want to ask in front of Miss Alice, but what do either of you know about these ‘Security Patrol’ officers riding around Boomer Town, proud as peacocks? One of them was the fellow who was trying to talk Miss Alice into buying that expensive Thoroughbred, but when I came upon him, there were three others.”
“I heard they’re former Confederate cavalry officers who’ve been allowed to rejoin the army,” Gideon said. “Why?”
Elijah sat on the edge of his camp bed, rubbing his chin with his thumb and index finger. “Because it struck me that they all look to be in their forties or so, yet they’re just privates.”
“The word is that there were so many of ’em wanting to get back in the army after Reconstruction,” Clint said, “that the federal government was afraid they’d take over and the war would start all over again. So they stripped them of their ranks before they’d let them rejoin.”
“I see.” Leave it to Clint to always have his ear to the ground, Elijah thought.
“What’s your interest in this, Lije?” Gideon asked, stretching his long legs out on his extralong cot. “Is it because that fellow was pressuring Miss Alice?”
“Yes, partly,” Elijah began, feeling the protective streak rise up in him again as he’d felt when he had seen the way that ginger-haired fellow had looked at her earlier. “I didn’t like the look in his eyes. I don’t think she was quite aware of it, though she assures me that she’s used to holding her own among pushy doctors and the like, but I’m not sure she’s as worldly-wise as she makes out. And it got me thinking of how I’d seen these fellows talking to folks around Boomer Town. They were always with women on their own or foreign immigrants.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to keep our eye on these fellows,” Clint said. “Anyone who looks crosswise at our Miss Alice will have all of us to tangle with.”
“Agreed,” murmured Gideon as he blew out the lamp.
Elijah’s last waking thoughts were thankful ones. He was glad that his brothers were willing to help him watch out for Alice Hawthorne. He was blessed to have two solid, decent brothers who believed in protecting folks like Alice against those who would take advantage of them. Surely those character traits meant that, in time, they would return to the faith they’d been taught at their father’s knee.
Chapter Six
It seemed to Alice, sitting in chapel the next morning, that most of the prayer requests that day had to do with various illnesses and injuries. And something Elijah said in his prayer about using one’s talents in the Lord’s service had her wanting to speak to him afterward.
She waited until nearly everyone else had left, passing the time by chatting with the talkative Ferguson sisters—or rather, Alice murmured “Hmm” and “I see” while they chattered. Then she approached Elijah.
She smiled as she held up her hands. “All right, I surrender, Reverend Thornton,” she said, using his formal title since there were still a few others around. “You’re right. I can see there is a continuing need for someone with medical training here. I’ll do it until the Land Rush.”
Elijah’s smile lit up his serious face and warmed her inside. “Bless you, Miss Alice,” he said, and took her hand between both of his. “You will be rewarded in Heaven, I know.”
His hands felt so warm, as warm as the approval she saw in his eyes. “I’d be perfectly willing to have those who need care to come to my tent,” she went on, “but some of them might not feel up to it or might have trouble finding me. What do you suggest?”
“Why don’t we team up, Miss Alice? I’ve been visiting those I hear about who are ill or needing prayer, mostly in the evenings—unless they need me immediately, of course. Or if no one has made a request, I just walk around and talk to folks who are sitting by their tents or wagons. Why don’t we go together?”
“Like making rounds in the hospital,” she said, remembering the times she’d gone to the wards with the physicians, noting their orders for the patients.
“Exactly. I could pray with them while you treat them.”
Her heart lightened as she smiled up at him. She felt strong and full of purpose. Let’s go together, he’d said. Was it wrong that the words made her think of feelings she’d resolved to abandon in favor of independence?
“Shall we begin tonight, then?” he suggested. “I’ll meet you after supper at your tent.”
“Better yet, why don’t you and your brothers come for an early supper? I’d intended to make stew yesterday, before you so kindly treated me to supper at Mrs. Murphy’s. It’ll just be a simple meal, but you’re all more than welcome. Then we’ll make our rounds.”
* * *
The Thorntons brought more than their appetites when they came to supper. Gideon came leading a black horse whose rump was a blanket of white with black spots—an Appaloosa. When he placed the mare’s lead rope in Alice’s hand, he said, “I think she’ll suit your needs, come the twenty-second, Miss Alice. I’ve tried her, and she’s fast and agile. She can turn on a dime, and she has nice manners. I believe she’d be perfect for you for the Land Rush.”
Alice felt her jaw drop. “Oh, she’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, going to the mare and stroking her neck, and then her soft, velvety muzzle when the horse turned to snuffle her new mistress. “An Indian pony! Where did you get her? How much do I owe you? What’s her name?”
The Thornton brothers laughed at the spate of questions. “I got her from Lars Brinkerhoff, a Danish fellow we’ve met.”
“I’ve met him, too,” she told him. “He and his sister, Katrine, were at the chapel this morning. He didn’t mention the mare, though. He must not have wanted to spoil the surprise.”
Gideon gave her a half smile and went on. “Lars lived with the Cheyenne for a time, and this mare was one of the string of ponies the Indians gave him when he left. He said you could have her for fifty dollars, and that includes a saddle and bridle, but you don’t need to pay him until you decide she’s the right horse for you. And he said her name, but it’s some Cheyenne word, unpronounceable—at least to me—so I reckon you can give her a new name, Miss Alice.”
Still stroking the mare and appreciating the kindness in her eyes, Alice said, “Then I’ll call her Cheyenne. Thank you, Gideon.”
The mare nickered as if she approved.
“You can leave her with our horses until the Land Rush, if you like,” Elijah said. “Shall we ride out to the prairie tomorrow afternoon and try out her paces?”
She nodded, happy at the prospect of an afternoon of riding in Elijah’s
