Cowboy Creek Christmas: Mistletoe Reunion. Cheryl St.John

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      “I’m Dr. Boyd.” She hurried forward. “What is the injury?”

      “You’re the doctor?” the first man questioned, but was cut off by his comrade.

      “It’s my leg and foot,” the man in pain barked. “Horse reared and crushed me against a building.”

      “Let me take a look at it.” She gestured to a narrow hallway. “Take him into the first room.”

      “You sure about this, Ben?” his friend asked, eyeing Marlys.

      “Get me to the room like she said,” Ben demanded, and hopped forward.

      “His name’s Benjamin Cross,” the first man told her. “That’s Enoch, and I’m Jess. There was a note on Doc Fletcher’s chalkboard saying he’d be out all morning. Sheriff told us you were here.”

      “Are you able to remove your trousers, Mr. Cross?” she asked.

      Pain wasn’t enough to dull his discomfort with the suggestion, because the patient flushed, glanced around but finally unbuttoned his uniform pants. His friends helped him remove them and got him situated on the examining table. Marlys took a pair of shears and cut the leg of his gray flannel union suit from ankle to knee. “How long ago did this happen?”

      “Happened right in front of the sheriff’s office,” Jess said. “Took us maybe ten or fifteen minutes to find you.”

      “You’re fortunate, Mr. Cross.” She probed the area of his ankle, which was beginning to swell. “I don’t believe anything is broken. And I can encourage blood flow away from your foot to prevent more swelling and to help the soft tissue heal faster.”

      “How are you going to do that?” Ben asked, looking at his purpling foot. Sweat beaded his forehead.

      “While Enoch goes to the Cowboy Café for ice, I’ll give you something for pain, and then we will soak your foot in warm water, and I will massage the blood from the injury, upward back toward your heart. When Enoch gets back, we will ice it.”

      “I never heard of such a thing,” Enoch said. “My pa got a crushed foot, and the doc put it in a cast.”

      “How did he walk afterward?” Marlys asked.

      “Well, he limped and used a cane.”

      “Exactly. I don’t think Mr. Cross is ready to retire from his Army position and take to using a cane. I’d rather treat the injury and enable his body to heal the damaged tissue.”

      Enoch just looked at his companions.

      “It’s up to you, Ben,” Jess said.

      Ben didn’t waste any time making his decision. Pain was a strong motivator, and the prospect of losing mobility—and employment—obviously added fuel. “What she’s saying sounds better than being a cripple,” he answered. “Go.”

      Enoch turned and headed out.

      Marlys diluted a pain remedy and gave it to her patient. He grimaced but swallowed it all. She heated water, dissolved Epsom salt, along with drops of hyssop, cypress, yarrow root, parsley and fennel oil, in a pail and had Ben soak his foot and ankle. After a few minutes he was resting somewhat more comfortably on the padded table. Using the oiled water, she massaged his foot and ankle in firm upward motions. He winced once or twice, but for the most part remained at ease.

      “What did you give him?” Jess asked.

      “It’s a boiled mixture of bark, roots and leaves to help with pain.”

      He looked at his chum and then at her. “Seems to have worked.”

      She nodded. “This procedure would have been quite painful without it. It’s necessary, though—motion will help the healing process and prevent his ankle from becoming stiff.”

      Ben opened his eyes and attempted to sit up.

      “Stay lying down, Mr. Cross. You’re doing very well.”

      “Good thing Dr. Boyd was here,” Jess told his friend. “You’re going to be just fine.” Jess gave her a nod.

      “What is the Army doing in Cowboy Creek?” Marlys asked.

      “Delivering food to the Cheyenne.”

      She paused her work on her patient’s foot momentarily. “Nearby?”

      “To the south.”

      “I read General Sherman had ordered provisions until a more permanent arrangement could be made by the peace commissioner.” She continued her effort to massage blood upward. “Have you seen their camp?”

      He nodded. “Saw it last time we were through. They’re doin’ some farming.”

      That made sense, since the tribes didn’t have freedom to travel, and their hunting was limited. The settlers would claim they had rights to the land if the Indians weren’t going to farm it. “Could you give me directions to get there?”

      “Respectfully, Doctor, it’s not safe for you to ride into their camp alone.”

      “I want to help them.”

      “They don’t know that. Do you speak Cheyenne?”

      She shook her head. “I don’t, but I can speak other languages, and there might be someone to interpret until I pick it up.”

      He cast her a doubtful glance. “All the same, not a wise idea.”

      “Perhaps you could take me with you.”

      “I’m afraid not, ma’am. These distributions have to be handled delicately. Our orders are to send in as few men as possible while guarding the perimeter, deliver our parcels peaceably and leave. Taking a woman along would land us in hot water.”

      “Of course.” She didn’t want to get the soldiers in trouble. But she wasn’t going to give up on the idea, either. I’ll just have to find an escort.

      Enoch arrived with ice. The sound of additional boots on the floor in the waiting area caught her attention. “Are there patients arriving?”

      “No, ma’am,” Enoch said. “I mentioned Ben’s treatment when I was at the café, and some of the men wanted to see what was going on.”

      She blinked, gathering her thoughts. “What exactly do they want to see?”

      “This here hot and cold treatment.”

      “I carried ice!” someone called from the other room.

      “Watch Mr. Cross a moment,” she said to Jess. “I’ll be right back.” Enoch followed her out of the exam room.

      It had begun to snow, and four cowboys hung dripping dusters on hooks inside the door. “I’ll wipe that up,” one of them told her. “Wanted to see the soldier’s foot.”

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