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Bluebonnet Belle
Lori Copeland
Mills & Boon Silhouette
Trouble in TexasA battle of wills was raging in the Lone Star State in 1876. April Truitt didn't trust doctors, least of all handsome newcomer Gray Fuller, who opposed her efforts to offer the women of Dignity, Texas, an herbal alternative to surgery. He treated her like some quack, but April was determined to save other women from dying on the operating table, like her mother did.Gray couldn't help admiring April's spirit and good intentions. Yet he couldn't let this bluebonnet belle steal all his patients…even if she was on her way to stealing his heart.
Bluebonnet Belle
Lori Copeland
Refreshed version of
ANGEL FACE AND AMAZING GRACE,
newly revised by author.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my lovely high-spirited granddaughter,
Audrey Lauren, who will be every bit as feisty,
charming, ornery, and give some lucky man a merry
chase before she enters the ranks of matrimony.
Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Prologue
Show me a man who suffers the monthly miseries, and I’ll show you a man bent on finding relief.
Women should show the same gumption when it comes to female complaints. And since April Truitt believed so strongly in her philosophy, she’d made up her mind to do something about it.
Anxiously fingering the printed envelope, she glanced around the general store. It was busy this morning. Faith Lawson was buying fruit jars to put up the remainder of her vegetable garden. Lilly Mason was counting out eggs, the amount to be credited to her account. Lilly had dark circles under her eyes this morning. Poor Lilly suffered unnecessarily.
If only the women of Dignity would listen to Lydia Pinkham, their woes would be over!
Mail the letter, April! Mail it!
Edging the envelope closer to the mail slot, April eyed Ellen Winters, the town postmistress. The silver-haired, robust sixty-year-old was busy sorting mail, glancing up occasionally with a smile.
“Nice morning, isn’t it?”
“Beautiful.”
“I’m always happy to see the heat of August give way to September.”
Nodding, April took a deep breath, shoving the letter into the slot. The missive disappeared into the empty receptacle with a soft whoosh.
Elly glanced up. “Sending off for another catalog, dear?”
Pretending she hadn’t heard her, April hurried out the front door, closing it firmly behind her. Exhaling a deep breath, she started down the walk at a fast pace.
Of course, once Elly saw who the letter was addressed to she would blab it all over town that Riley Ogden’s granddaughter was in cahoots with Lydia Pinkham. But April would deny it as long as she could. Grandpa’s heart was wearing out, and she didn’t want to upset him. She knew the townsfolk believed she was impulsive and didn’t think things through properly, but she liked to describe herself as spontaneous, impromptu—blazing a trail of new, exciting discoveries!
She believed in Lydia’s vegetable compound. Though no one outside the family knew the exact formula, it was said to contain unicorn root, life root, black cohosh, pleurisy root and fenugreek seed mashed up. The compound was touted to be the best thing that had ever happened to women, curing everything imaginable.
And she intended to help Lydia spread the good news about the wonder tonic. She wanted to encourage women to help themselves with their personal problems. She remembered her mother’s distress and tragic death because she’d listened to unsympathetic doctors.
Grandpa, along with most of the doctors, thought Mrs. Pinkham was a quack, but wasn’t that just like a man? Men didn’t suffer female problems, so they didn’t see what all the fuss was about. It was much easier to dismiss the subject with a shrewd wink and send the woman on her way.
Women had been getting short shrift for too long by men who had no understanding of their physical problems, showing little sympathy for complaints about backaches, nervousness and lack of energy. If a woman was happy, peppy and full of fun, a man would take her places, but if she was cross, lifeless and always tired out, well, he just wasn’t interested.
Doctors were too quick to offer surgery as a remedy for women’s functional disorders, invasive procedures that were inadequate, ill-advised, often too late, and usually creating even larger problems for the patient. Medical men thought that by removing the source, the problem would be alleviated.
When faced with irate women, physicians argued they were doing everything possible to find better, more acceptable alternatives, but April had her doubts. She was certain there had to be a better way to treat medical issues of mood problems, heart palpitations and hot flashes in the year of 1876. Some claimed that Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound provided relief for thousands!
April longed to inform Mrs. Pinkham in person about her decision, but Lynn, Texas, was nearly nineteen hundred miles from Houston, so a letter offering her assistance was more sensible.
It was done. Now all she had to do was wait to hear from Mrs. Pinkham.
Crossing the street, April nodded good-morning to John and Harriet Clausen, who were crossing from the opposite side. John tipped his hat pleasantly.
“Morning, Miss Truitt.”
April smiled. “Mr. Clausen. Mrs. Clausen.”
“How’s your grandfather?”
“Very good, Mr. Clausen. Thank you.”
“Give him our best.”
“I will.”
Wagon teams lined the streets of Dignity, Texas, this hot August morning. Truckmen loaded the long wagons, which were balanced on one axle and pulled by two horses harnessed in tandem. The carters wore long, loose frocks of heavy cloth or leather that were gathered on a string at the neck and fell to the calf, an outfit that dated back to the 1600s.
The men unloaded hogsheads of molasses, flour and brown sugar from the wagons they’d driven from Houston. They would haul back produce grown by the local farmers and wooden goods carved by artisans.
In the distance, sunlight glinted off sparkling blue waters in the port. The mercantile and livery were doing a thriving business this morning. The mouthwatering smells of cinnamon and apples drifted from Menson’s Bakery. Many a Dignity housewife would abandon her hot kitchen and buy one of Addy Menson’s apple pies for supper.
Striding past Ludwig’s Pharmacy, April paused long enough to tap on the front window. Beulah Ludwig glanced up, smiling when she saw April peering in at her.
Grinning, April mouthed, “I did it.”
Shaking her head, her friend made a face that clearly expressed her disapproval.
Dismissing the look with a cheerful wave of hand, April walked on. She didn’t care what anyone thought. When April Truitt believed in something as important to womankind, as exciting as Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, then she had to support it.
Period.
She was committed.
Feeling surprisingly confident about the decision, she hurried toward Ogden’s Mortuary, sitting on the corner of Main and Fallow Streets. The funeral parlor had become her home when Delane Truitt, her mother, died seven years ago. Riley Ogden had taken his granddaughter in and raised her with stern, but loving, care.
At times he was prone to throw up his hands in despair, stating, “You, young lady, have too much of your father in you!”
But April didn’t take offense. She knew he thought the world of his son-in-law, Jack Truitt, and had grieved as hard as his daughter when Jack died in a train derailment at the age of thirty.
Someday April would marry Henry Long. Grandpa was finicky when it came to April’s suitors, however, which made telling him a difficult, and as yet unresolved problem.
Maybe Henry didn’t make her feel heady and breathless—not like that arrogant Gray Fuller did—but he was considered a good catch and they shared the same spiritual convictions—and the same philosophies about the Pinkham compound.
Right now, April planned to do what she could to improve women’s lot in modern society.
And the first step was to tell every woman she could about Mrs. Pinkham’s elixir.
Now. If only Mrs. Pinkham would accept her invitation and come to Texas and sell her marvelous product. April breathed a heartfelt prayer, then turned to go home.
Chapter One
Dignity, Texas
August 1876
“Ladies, ladies! Please! May I have your attention! There’s no need to shove! There’s plenty to go around for all!”
As Lydia Pinkham shouted to gain order, April stood behind a long table piled high with bottles of Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, eager to sell to those brave enough to try the revolutionary new cure-all for female complaints.
“Sickness is as unnecessary as crime,” Lydia declared as the women pressed closer, trying to get a better look at the small brown bottles. “And if I may be so bold, no woman should be condemned to suffer when there is a curative readily available!”
Eyes widening, the women drew back as if a snake had bitten them.
“Ladies, ladies! Don’t be alarmed. The Pinkham Compound is a special formula of nature’s own elements,” Lydia explained.
Having accepted April’s offer, Mrs. Pinkham and her entourage had arrived late yesterday afternoon. The women of Dignity were about to be catapulted into the modern age. Lydia was clearly skilled in marketing. Offering her product directly to women seemed to be a shrewd sales tactic.
Ladies were hesitant to talk about such things, but the group who’d come today to hear Mrs. Pinkham’s theories on women’s health issues seemed eager to learn what the product would do. April was excited by the response and delighted to be part of the Pinkham team.
Lydia brewed her compound on a stove in the cellar of her home. The rows of brown bottles lined up on the table in front of April had labels detailing all the ailments the tonic could cure.
Lydia was usually too busy making the compound and writing advertising copy to conduct a rally herself, but she’d decided to take the campaign on the road to the Houston area.
April considered today a plus. Since Grandpa was unaware of her involvement, she was relieved when the small Pinkham entourage—Lydia; two of her sons, Dan and Will; Henry Trampas Long and April herself—had left Dignity to conduct sales in a small town closer to Houston.
So far, Dignity residents chose to overlook her involvement with Mrs. Pinkham in order to keep word of her activities from an aging Riley. The town mortician and cofounder was narrow-minded on the subject of Pinkham’s Compound.
“The perfect woman,” Lydia continued, “should experience no pain, but that individual would be rare indeed.”
Lydia Pinkham’s sad but compelling eyes met the gaze of every woman in attendance as she walked the length of the table, holding aloft a bottle of her vegetable compound high for all to see. Tall placards held by Dan and Will displayed copies of advertisements that had run in newspapers in Houston. The headlines decried the major complaints of women of the day. I Am Not Well Enough to Work, one stated, followed by the photo of a contrite woman standing before an angry husband who had no dinner waiting on the table and no clean shirts in the wardrobe. In the descriptive, Lydia E. Pinkham offered her “sympathy and aid,” but reminded readers that there was a ready remedy. Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound would, the ad stated, “restore to vigorous health the lives of those previously sorely distressed.”
Another claim boldly stated Operations Avoided; another, I’m Simply All Worn-out, followed by the picture of a woman who had collapsed from fatigue.
