eyes followed his every movement. He was so intent on what he did. So sure. His fingers steady. Healing hands. She could barely take her gaze from them, but spared a quick glance at his face. His expression led her to think he was both concerned about the man and determined to fix him. Teena understood the feeling of wanting to overcome injury and illness. She also knew the frustration of failing.
Jacob finished and put on a spotless white piece of cloth, then turned his attention to stitching the man’s foot. An axe, they had said, but the foot was torn badly and looked more like the man had caught his foot in something powerful. Besides, how would he accidentally cut his stomach with an ax? It made her wonder if he’d been in a fight with another man brandishing a weapon of some sort. She’d often enough noted how the white man could turn on his friends and try to destroy them. This man looked as if someone had tried to tear him apart.
Dr. Calloway finished and straightened. “He’ll live and likely walk again.”
The crowd cheered.
At the doctor’s signal, the man stopped letting the liquid drop to the mask.
“Did I hear there was a doctor here?” A voice called from the back, and a burly man pushed forward. “You a doctor?”
“I am.”
“My wife is in poor shape. Come and help her.”
Dr. Jacob glanced around the crowd. “I need someone to stay with him until he comes out of the anesthesia. Who will help?”
Anesthesia. Teena had never heard of it. Was that what he did to make the man sleep through being sewn together?
The crowd melted away amidst murmurs of having work to do. Soon there was only the impatient man who sought Jacob’s help, Teena, Jacob and Wiley, a wizened old man who had spent too much time lost on the mountain and now rambled nonsense. Someone had brought him down the trail a little while ago. Mack’s kindness kept him alive.
“I can help,” Teena murmured.
Jacob acted as if he hadn’t heard. “You, mister, can you watch this man?”
“His name is Wiley,” Teena offered. “He left his mind on the mountain.”
Jacob gave her a quick glance, then shifted his attention back to Wiley. “Wiley, can you help?”
Wiley looked far away, as if seeing his many days lost and alone. “It’s cold. The wind fair tears at a man’s soul.” Wiley shuddered. He brought his gaze back to Dr. Jacob. “It stole mine. It did.” He turned and shuffled away, mumbling about finding his lost soul.
“Doc, hurry. My wife needs you now.”
“I will stay with him.” Teena stepped forward. “Or I could go with—” She indicated the pacing man.
Jacob looked as if he would about as soon cut off his own foot. He glanced at the sleeping man. “I don’t seem to have much choice. He will likely vomit when he comes to. Make sure he doesn’t choke.” He bent to plant his face a few inches from Teena’s. “You are not to give him any of your stuff.” He indicated the bag slung over her back. “Do you understand me?” His words were quiet, meant only for her ears.
“I am not deaf,” she muttered.
“None of your superstitious rituals, you hear?”
Teena turned her back and squatted by the injured man. She would not agree to anything she didn’t want to, and this was one of those things. He might know about his kind of medicine, but she knew about her kind.
“I would not let him suffer if I could help.”
Jacob squatted at her side. “Listen to me. I expect you are only following the practices that have been handed down through generations, but they are outdated. There are better, safer ways of treating the sick and injured.”
“Then teach me them.”
“You must first be willing to abandon your old ways.”
She considered the options and shook her head. “How can I, when I know they work?”
“Doc? Come on.”
Jacob made a rough sound of exasperation and followed the man.
Jacob Calloway returned to the rough wooden sidewalk and stomped the mud from his boots. This place was a disaster. In the few days he’d been here, he’d seen nothing but mud and ignorance. The woman he’d visited needed a better diet to relieve some of the symptoms responsible for her pain. He guessed her biggest problem was she really wanted to go home.
His boots thudded on the plank sidewalk fronting the row of businesses, though from all appearances, one would conclude most of the transactions were conducted on the rowdy beach. Which is where Burns Morgan had disappeared. The boy had attached himself to Jacob on the ship, and seemed in no hurry to join the climb over the mountain toward Dawson City and the gold fields. Only sixteen years old, he doubtless liked the idea of adventure more than the reality of it. Jacob didn’t mind in the least, providing a bit of guidance and protection to the boy.
Jacob could have used him to watch the patient he’d sewn together a short time ago. Instead, he’d been forced to accept the only volunteer. That Indian woman.
She was not what he expected at all. A dusky-skinned beauty with big, dark eyes that seemed to delve into the deep recesses of one’s mind. Her flawless skin reminded him of silk and satin. No—something warmer. Alive. He shook his head to stop his foolish thoughts, but they immediately returned to recounting each detail of that moment on the trail.
She had twin braids which seemed to be traditional. Every native woman he’d seen wore her hair in exactly the same fashion. Only, on her it looked vibrant. He’d been surprised by the warmth and weight of them.
His steps slowed. Why was he giving her so much thought?
He intended to discourage further contact. If only someone had intervened when his brother was injured… forbidden the native to treat him… It was too late to save Aaron, but he intended to do his best to save others from the same fate—death by ignorance and superstitious ritual.
Despite his insistence Teena only watch the patient, he had no assurance she wouldn’t do some little dance, wave a rattle over him and sprinkle him with ashes and blood as soon as Jacob turned his back. He picked up his pace. His patient would be in need of pain medication by now. And nauseated from the ether.
He had come to fulfill a promise to his dying mother. Not that she would know if he kept his word or not. But he would know, and his conscience would give him no peace until he got on a boat from Seattle to Alaska. He intended to set up a medical clinic, train a nurse or two to care for patients and advertise for a doctor to take his place. Many doctors had left their practices to chase after Klondike gold. Surely, one would be wanting to return to medicine. When he accomplished all this, he would return to his practice in Seattle.
Jacob was close enough now to see the patient and the woman. She was taking something from her pack. Or was she putting something back? He broke into a run. “Stop. Get away.”
She turned, a smile beaming from her.
He almost stumbled. A giant invisible
