the sisters silently assessed each other, as if wondering what experience helping her father constituted.
Margie nodded. “I ’spect you can do as well as any man. We accept.”
“Thank you.” She looked about her. What did they want her to do?
Margie didn’t let her wait long to find out. “Grab that board and haul it over here, will you?”
Teena did as instructed, and in a few minutes was wielding a hammer and driving home nails. She giggled softly. Driving them home was perhaps a bit of exaggeration. She missed as often as she hit the nail.
Frankie let out a hearty laugh. “You’ll catch on soon enough. Ain’t nothing a woman can’t learn to do, so far as I can tell.”
Teena grabbed the hammer with both hands and aimed at the nail, giggling when she again missed.
Margie moved to her side. “Hold the hammer like so.” She pulled Teena’s hand lower on the handle. “Swing with your arm.”
Teena did as instructed and soon had the nail in place. “There.”
Margie chuckled. “You’ll do just fine.”
Teena felt Dr. Jacob’s presence, and without turning, knew he had stepped from the tent. All the while she banged on the nail she’d been acutely aware of him. Between blows to the wood, she heard his murmurs as he dealt with the two injured men. But she dared not tiptoe closer to listen.
“Margie,” he called, his voice soft but insistent. “May I speak to you?” He tipped his head toward the other side of the tent, indicating she should join him there.
Margie didn’t move. “Ain’t nothing you need to say in private.”
Dr. Jacob considered the three women, then nodded. “Very well.” He cleared his throat. “I’m a medical doctor—”
“Yeah. We know.”
He went on as if Margie hadn’t interrupted him. “I believe in science. Superstition is not only ignorant but harmful.”
Teena knew he meant her. Nevertheless, she stood her ground. Whether or not he liked it, and even if he denied it and fought against it, she was determined to learn his ways of healing. If that meant learning to hammer a nail and build a white man’s house, she would do that, too. But she would not give up.
Margie and Frankie now stood side by side. “Say what you mean, Doc.” It was obvious Margie spoke for both of them.
“I told you, I don’t want a shaman near my patients.”
Margie and Frankie dropped their tools and looked about ready to get mad.
Teena started to back away.
“You’re not leaving.” Margie’s words stopped Teena’s intended escape. Margie hadn’t shifted her gaze from Dr. Jacob. “Seems to me, if you’re interested in getting this here clinic built in a timely fashion, you can’t be so all-fired concerned about who does the work. So long as it’s getting done.” Although her voice was low, Teena knew it held a load of anger.
She didn’t dare breathe, feeling as if her life hung in the weight of Margie’s deceptively soft words. Neither Margie nor Frankie moved, awaiting Dr. Jacob’s decision. Teena knew the Tucker sisters well enough to know they would leave in the blink of an eye if Dr. Jacob pushed them the wrong way.
She watched the doctor as he assessed the sisters, knew he understood their silent ultimatum and was considering how to best deal with it.
When Jacob sucked in air like a drowning man rescued from the waters, she knew he realized his limited options. “I have no problem with her helping you.”
He gently emphasized the word you, making it clear she could help them but not him. His words clawed into the secret depths of her heart.
Ignoring the way her eyes stung, she picked up another nail and pounded it into place. When she finished and glanced to where Dr. Jacob had stood, he was gone, and Margie and Frankie were busy measuring a board.
Chapter Three
Jacob strode toward the waterfront, as if he needed to put out a fire. Anger burned through his veins. He fought for control. He did not want a shaman hanging about his clinic. If his brother had received real medical help he would likely be alive still.
Jacob had tried to convince Aaron not to go north seeking gold, but once Aaron made up his mind to do something he refused to listen to reason. He’d been the same since he was a child.
He searched through the crowds. Where was Burns? He’d agreed to help with the construction of the clinic, though it wasn’t the building he was concerned about as much as Burns’s safety.
He went as far as the beginning of the trail without a sign of Burns. Surely the boy wouldn’t head up there on his own.
Jacob sighed. The boy would do anything that entered his mind, without regard for the consequences. If only Jacob could instill a little sense of responsibility in him before he made a foolish decision. He realized his desire sprang not only out of concern about Burns, but also from a wish that he could have prevented Aaron from a choice that lead ultimately to his death.
He spun on his heel and took a slightly different route, hoping to locate Burns among the throng, but he passed the place he’d started without any sign of the boy. He pressed onward. Again he reached the end of the beach, and saw a trail leading through the trees and followed it. A few hundred yards later, the path opened to a clearing with several wooden structures, each with a narrow, low door but no windows. Smoke drifted from one building.
The place was quiet. Peaceful. No gold seekers here. A movement caught his attention. A man sat in the sunshine, a basketlike hat on his head. The man was an elderly native. Was this where Teena’s family lived? It suited her. He could imagine her quiet and serene in this setting. Nothing seemed to ruffle her. Not even his rudeness. He considered himself a gentle, refined man, and yet something about her brought from him harsh, unkind words. It didn’t make sense.
Suddenly, he realized his patients were alone while he stared at an old man rocking in the sunshine. He turned and rushed back through the crowds, seeing nothing of Burns as he trotted to the clinic. Already the walls began to take shape. The three women worked side by side. Margie turned to Teena and laughed.
He slowed momentarily, wishing he knew what Teena said. Then he dismissed such foolishness and hurried on.
He didn’t notice Burns until he reached the boardwalk. The boy sat cross-legged on the ground, playing with a pup. When he saw Jacob he jumped up, clutching the pup in his arms.
“Look what I got.”
Jacob jerked to a stop. “A dog?”
“Some man gave it to me. Said he didn’t want to drag around a useless pup. Isn’t he sweet?” Burns scrubbed the animal’s ears and gave Jacob pleading eyes.
Aaron had once dragged home a sorry-looking pup and begged to keep it. He’d spent hours with the animal, but it wasn’t healthy, and died despite everyone’s
