Klondike Medicine 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 fist slammed into his solar plexus. What would it be like to have such a smile greet him every day? He scrubbed the back of his hand across his forehead, forced his senses into order and closed the remaining twenty feet between them. He glowered down at her, but couldn’t remember what he meant to say.

Good grief. He was thirty-two years old and acting like Burns, simply because a woman—a very young woman—had smiled at him. Why, she couldn’t be much older than Burns.

His insides churned at his stupidity.

“I told you not to give him any of your superstitious concoctions.” His frustration made him speak more harshly then he meant to. He dropped to his knees, flipped open his bag and reached for the laudanum to provide the man pain relief. Then he realized his patient rested quietly. No complaint of pain. No retching. “What did you give him?” He checked the man’s pulse and reactions, but apart from being comfortable, he detected nothing amiss.

His patient opened his eyes and focused on Jacob. “Hi, you must be the doctor. Teena here told me how you sewed me up without me feeling a thing.”

Teena. For some reason, the name suited her. She seemed keenly interested in medicine. If only she would agree to abandon her old-fashioned ways, based on superstition and tradition rather than science, he might consider training her as a nurse. But she’d been very clear she didn’t intend to. He did his best to ignore her, and instead spoke to his patient. “What’s your name?”

“Donald Freed. Thanks for fixing me up, Doc.”

“Did this woman give you something?”

Donald’s smile was mellow to say the least. “Whatever it was, it took away the pain.”

Anger roared through Jacob like a raging storm, destroying everything in its path. His brother had died not far from here, with a native caring for him. If Aaron had received proper medical care he would likely still be alive. Instead he’d been deprived of modern medicine, and worse, poisoned. He jolted to his feet and grabbed the young woman by the arm. “What did you give him?”

Her eyes widened but she showed no fear. Perhaps it was compassion filling her expression with such warmth.

Ashamed of his behavior, he dropped her arm and stepped back. “Tell me what it is so I can know how to counteract it.” He feared the ignorant cures of these people would poison Donald as it had Aaron. “Tell me before it makes him sick.”

Teena smiled, gentle and reproving. “It is only all-heal root. It will not make him sick. It will make him comfortable. Happy.”

“Doc, I feel great. Happy, like she says.”

Who knew what Teena had fed the man? Or the consequence. Frustration twisted with Jacob’s anger. How was he to combat ignorance if men like this encouraged it? His only hope was to insist Teena stay away from the clinic. He leaned closer to Teena, making sure she heard and understood every word. “I want you to stay away from the sick people. I will treat them.”

She didn’t move an inch. Her eyes didn’t so much as flicker. “You need my help. I need yours. I have prayed for a chance to learn the white man’s ways of healing. You will help me and I will help you.”

“Not in this lifetime,” he vowed.

She smiled and calmly walked away. “We will see each other again.”

He groaned. Was this some kind of punishment for an unknown omission of his? Was God testing him to see if he would falter?

I will not fail in keeping my word to Mother. I will do my best to bring proper care to these people who are seeking their fortune in gold. Then I will return to my pleasant life in Seattle.

His resolve strengthened, he again checked Donald, who rested comfortably. Then he pulled out paper and pencil and started a list of what he needed.

A little while later he entered the general store and spoke to Mack Tanner. “I’ll need these supplies to build the clinic. And I need to hire someone to construct it for me.”

Mack was the founder and mayor of the town. He had strict regulations against saloons and dance halls. He’d built a church in the center of town to signify that, in this place, God was honored. Knowing Treasure Creek was established on moral principles had been the reason Jacob had chosen this particular location to set up a new practice. Plus, the letter informing them of Aaron’s death had stated that Aaron was buried here.

Mack took the list and nodded. “I have the building material at hand. I’ll have it delivered to the site.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“As to someone to do the work…” He shook his head. “Most people are trying to get to the gold fields. Now, if you’ve no objection to a woman doing it…?” He let the unspoken question dangle in the air.

Jacob could think of no reason to care who did the construction and said so.

“Then I’ll ask the Tucker sisters to help you. They’re kind of jacks-of-all-trades.”

“Fine. The sooner the better. It’s hard to provide adequate care out in the open.”

“For sure. How about a tent for now? In case it rains.” He glanced out the window. “Which it’s bound to do soon.”

“That would help.” A short time later, he left with the promise of delivery of tent, lumber and other supplies, though much of what he needed in the way of supplies had to be ordered, with no assurance of when they’d arrive.

He hurried back to the place where his clinic would soon stand. Two men brought over the tent and erected it and helped him move Donald under its shelter, then delivered the lumber, and the news that the misses Tucker would show up in the morning. Despite the urgency he felt, he understood this was the most he could hope for. Soon he would offer adequate medical assistance. No longer would the injured and ill have to depend on superstitious claptrap.

He smiled as he recalled Teena’s quiet stubbornness. She would soon learn she was no match for his determination. And why that should make him chuckle he was at a loss to understand.

He looked into his cup of coffee. Had she secretly poured in some kind of native drug that would make him anticipate a duel of wills with a native?

Snorting at his foolishness, he tossed the rest of the coffee into the dirt.

Chapter Two

At the sound of voices close to his head, Jacob was instantly awake and paused to orientate himself. He’d slept on the ground, softened by furs Mack had sent him. Burns had returned about 11:00 p.m., all wound up because it stayed light so late.

“A person never needs to go to bed.”

“You’ll want to sleep sometime.” Jacob wasn’t sure he’d ever been so enthused about staying up all night. Or so eager to experience life.

He glanced across to where Burns had thrown himself down on his own soft fur and lay snoring gently, his arms outflung like a baby. He didn’t look as if he meant to leave his bed in search of adventure for several more hours.

Jacob smiled, a feeling of affection and protectiveness warming his insides. He’d grown fond of the boy. Perhaps Burns reminded him in a small way of Aaron—young, naive, so certain adventure carried no risks. Maybe Jacob could make up for not being able to protect Aaron by keeping Burns out of danger.

The noise outside his tent grew louder and Jacob scrambled from his covers. He checked Donald. Several times in the night, he’d risen to tend the man, who rested quietly at the moment. A quick glance at his pocket watch, where he’d left it on a small table by his makeshift bed, revealed it was—

He grabbed his watch and held it to his ear. Yes, it ticked. He wound it to make sure. Four in the morning, and yet the racket outside gave him reason to think it was high noon. One voice called, “Right there is good, boys.” It sounded as if the speaker was only a few feet away. A crash fairly rocked him where he stood. Burns grunted and rolled to his side. Donald started, moaned and sank back into oblivion.

Jacob took a moment to smooth his hair. His chin was rough with whiskers. At some point he needed to shave. But first he had to find out the cause of the commotion outside. He pushed aside the tent flap and slapped at the cloud of mosquitoes attacking him.

A handful of men, nudging each other and jeering, stood watching two people struggle with armloads of lumber.

“Frankie, hang on. It ain’t that heavy,” one of the wood-toting persons called.

“You wait until I get a good hold, and don’t drop it without telling me. You left me holding the whole thing,” Frankie sputtered as he rubbed his palm.

“Daylight is wasting.” The second person tapped a mud-covered boot and glanced at the sky, as if to suggest the sun was crossing the sky at a furious pace.

“You tell ’er, Margie,” one sunburned man yelled.

This was a woman? And Frankie, too? The women Mack had said would help? Jacob took a good look at the pair. Both had dark, short hair—or at least what he could see of it, hidden by knitted caps, suggested so. Both dressed in plaid jackets that seemed to be uniform for both native Alaskans and the bulk of the outsiders. And both stood with feet planted a good width apart.

“You gonna take that from your sister, Frankie?” another spectator called. “Come on, show her who’s boss.”

Plainly, the onlookers hoped to see a fight between the two. In fact, he figured the men itched to get a good brawl going. Jacob took a step forward, hoping to prevent such a thing.

The one called Frankie closed the distance separating her from her sister, her expression dark and forbidding.

The men cheered.

Frankie stood in front of her sister and planted her hands on her hips.

The cheering intensified.

Jacob held his breath, wondering if he’d be handing out dressings in the place of his future clinic.

Both women let out a whoop that sent shudders down Jacob’s spine and, laughing uproariously, threw their arms around each other, administering vigorous back pats.

The crowd muttered their disappointment and most of them moved off to attend to their own affairs. That’s when he saw the Indian woman again. Teena Crow, she had said was her name. Her dark eyes watched him with unwavering purpose. I will help you. You will help me. His face felt brittle. His eyes stung as he silently signaled his determination. It would not happen. He had come to provide scientific medical care. He tipped his chin in a gesture that said he wanted her to leave. She held his gaze without a flicker of concern.

Frankie and Margie watched the silent exchange. Then one stepped forward. “Margie Tucker at your service. Mack said you wanted someone to put up a building. This here is my sister, Frankie. She might lend a hand if she can manage to hold up her end.”

He shook hands with the pair. “Appreciate your help.” He glanced toward the last place he’d seen Teena. Only to check that she’d left, he assured himself. She was indeed gone. He glimpsed her heading down the trail leading over the mountain, her graceful gait unmistakable even at this distance. He felt satisfied she had moved on, though somewhat disquieted—only because he’d been rude. Out of necessity, he firmly explained to himself. He turned back to Margie. “I’ve got a young man with me who will assist you.” He would pay Burns to work. Perhaps it would provide incentive for him to stay in Treasure Creek, rather than heading to the gold fields.

“The more the merrier. ’Specially as our younger sister seems more interested in her new husband than in giving us a hand.” Margie’s words growled out, making it sound as if having a husband was worse than having the plague. She turned to Frankie. “Why’d you let her up and marry Caleb anyways?”

Frankie sputtered. “I tried to convince her no Tucker woman needs a man, but you saw how stubborn she was.”

Margie and Frankie rolled their heads and scratched their hairlines in mutual sadness.

Then Margie laughed. “We’ll be glad of your friend’s help. It’ll make the job go faster, too. Now show us what you have in mind, so we can get to work while the sun shines.” She roared with amusement.

Seeing his surprised and somewhat stunned reaction, she patted his shoulder. “My idea of a little joke. In the summer we have no shortage of sun.” She slapped at the mosquitoes. “Nor these little blighters. You get yourself some of that stuff Teena Crow makes up. It helps keep them off.”

“I don’t want her around here.”

The pair gave each other a glance rife with secrets. “You got something against her?” Margie’s voice was soft, but Jacob didn’t miss the warning note.

Not knowing the situation well enough to venture too far, he heeded the warning. “I’m a medical doctor prepared to use my understanding of scientific principles to help people. That woman’s methods are based on superstition and—”

Margie nudged Frankie hard enough to cause her to stumble. “I think our city doctor will soon learn the difference between what matters and what doesn’t. Don’t you think so?”

Frankie guffawed. “There’s those that look only at the outside and judge. Don’t we know that?”

The pair slapped each other on the shoulders and laughed.

Margie grabbed some stakes. “Now, where do you want the building?”

He showed them what he had in mind and helped them stake the corners. When they finished, he went into the tent and nudged Burns from his sleep. Last night, when Jacob offered to pay him, the boy had eagerly agreed to assist with the construction.

“What’s wrong?” Burns mumbled, burrowing deeper into the comfort of his bed.

“I thought you wanted to help.” It was imperative to get the building up as soon as possible.

Burns groaned but made no move to rise.

“I can think of ways to make you get up.” Jacob stood over the boy, remembering the times he’d teased Aaron to get him out of bed. “I used to toss cold water in my brother’s face when he refused to wake.”

Burns squinted through one eye. “You wouldn’t.”

Jacob shrugged. “Not if you get up on your own.”

Burns moaned. “Is it even morning yet?”

“Open your eyes. Daylight is burning.”

A crash of dropped lumber jolted through the small area and Burns’s eyes flew open.

“What is that?”

“That, young man…” he pulled the covers from Burns “…is two women beginning to build the clinic.”

“Women?”

Jacob laughed. “You going to let them put you to shame?”

For one second, Burns looked as if the idea was unacceptable, and then he settled back into the warm furs.

“They’re so eager, let them do it.”

Jacob nudged the boy with the toe of his boot. “Need I get a pitcher of water?” He was more than half-serious. The boy needed to learn responsibility. Maybe if Jacob had been able to have more influence on making Aaron be a man, his brother would still be alive. But his parents had always excused Aaron’s behavior as exuberance. Jacob recognized it for what it was—irresponsibility. “You can choose to be a child and cuddle into your bed, or be a man and do some work.” Words he wished he’d spoken to Aaron when he had the chance. Though, likely, Aaron would have scoffed at him.

Burns sat up and scowled at Jacob. “I’m a man.” He scrambled to his feet and pushed out of the tent.

Relieved the boy had chosen work over sleep, Jacob checked on Donald, gave him some more laudanum then followed Burns outside, smiling when he saw the boy following Margie’s orders and laughing at her teasing.

He walked around the proposed clinic, envisioning the modern facilities. At the corner of the lot he paused and studied the trail up the mountain. It was hard to believe men and women, even children, had scaled it in the midst of winter. He’d seen the upper portion up close, seen the way people had to bend over to keep from falling off. He’d seen, too, the things that suddenly had little importance when they had to be packed on a person’s back up such an incline. So much stuff had been tossed aside that the place looked like a giant dump.

What must the natives think?

And yet Teena seemed eager to help.

Suspicion tugged at the back of his mind. Had she gone up the trail seeking injured people to practice her malarkey on? He thought of asking Margie and Frankie about her, but they had laughed like they shared some secret when he mentioned his concerns about the superstitious ways. Maybe he’d go find out for himself what she was up to.

“I’m going to see if anyone on the trail needs my help.”

Frankie and Margie stopped work. They glanced at each other, then Margie nodded. “Sure. You go do that.” Again, that darted look at her sister and the flicker of a smile between them. Then, as if sensing his curiosity about what they weren’t saying, they bent and picked up some boards.

“I’ll be back later.” As he walked, a hundred questions burned in his brain. What did they know about Teena? Were there other shamans in the area? He had come here for one thing only: to build a clinic and establish adequate medical care. Then he would return to Seattle. Without getting involved in any complications.

Teena stood over the unconscious man. The trail was too rugged, too rocky for her to help him here. The man was too heavy for her to move. She needed help, but a glance to the side, where men and women marched upward, caring only about the promise of gold across the mountains, and she knew she would not find help from them. Mr. McIntyre promised God would never fail her. And the white man in the hut tucked into the trees, who carried the Good Book up and down the trail, reading it to others and praying with them and for them, promised the same thing.

Teena had stopped to visit him on her way up the trail. Thomas Stone was a kind man with a troubled soul. But he loved the Tlingit and the gold seekers equally. Perhaps it was God’s love that made his heart so open to others. Thomas Stone had prayed with her when she told him about Dr. Jacob and her desire to learn the white man’s healing ways. “Pray and trust God to open the door for you,” Thomas Stone said. “God hears your prayers and answers as He deems best.”

Well, if God heard the prayers of a Tlingit woman and did what was best, she could ask Him to send help for this injured man. God, I need to get him where I can care for him. But I can’t move him on my own. Please, send someone to help me.

The stream of gold-hunting humans kept trudging by, unmindful or uncaring about the injured man. She perched on a rock and waited.

“Siteen.” It was her Tlingit name, spoken by her brother. God had sent help, and it was the best help she could ask for. Jimmy was strong as a papa bear. She sprang to her feet and clambered over the rocks to his side.

“I am glad to see you. I need someone to carry this man down the mountain.”

Jimmy hesitated only a moment before he stepped off the trail, dropped to the ground the pack he carried and followed Teena to the injured man. He grunted as he heaved the man across his shoulders, then picked his way over the rocks toward Treasure Creek.

“I thought you would be helping the doctor,” Jimmy said.

“He is not ready.” Let Jimmy decide if she meant the building or something else.

“Remember what Father said. You cannot become a white woman.”

Why did her family have such concerns? She had no desire to leave her native ways. “I only want to learn their healing ways. Besides, who would ever think I could be a white woman? Look at my eyes, my skin, my hair. I am native. Even if I wanted, I could not be anything else.”

Jimmy made a noise in his throat that could be concern or doubt. “I don’t want to see you searching for something that can’t be yours.”

“Do you mean learning from the doctor?” Had he heard Dr. Jacob’s order to stay away?

“That. And more. These people are different than us, though some of their ways are interesting.”

“Like what?”

“Reading. Don’t you wish you could read from their books?”

“Yes. And I would like to read from Thomas Stone’s Bible.” She stopped so suddenly that Jimmy, following her, had to pull up hard.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She forced her feet to continue onward. She told herself it didn’t matter that Dr. Jacob climbed up the trail, yet her lungs had grown strangely tight and she was again aware of a quickening in the bottom of her heart. He hadn’t yet seen them. Perhaps they could slip by unnoticed.

“I think ‘nothing’ is the doctor. Why do you care so much?”

“Because he is the answer to my prayer to learn their healing ways.”

“Make sure that’s all it is.”

“What more could it be?”

Jimmy sighed. “He is a man, even if he is white. And you are a woman. If you weren’t my sister I would say you are pretty, but I will only admit you aren’t hard to look at. But who knows what the white man sees. How he feels about us.”

She didn’t respond, because she knew what he meant. Whites and natives liked different things, even in what they admired in the looks of each other.

Dr. Jacob glanced up and saw her. Their gazes crashed like waves against the sand during a high wind. Her heart pounded insistently. He was white. He didn’t welcome her presence. Yet she saw nothing in his looks she disliked. It was more than the square shape of his face, the dark mystery of his eyes, the gouge in his chin. It was what she felt—his devotion to helping others, his trueness, his…

She couldn’t explain it, but she knew, she just knew, he was a man who could be trusted, a man who would honor his word, a man who would love deeply.

She jerked her gaze away. Her father had already promised her to a man in the Wolf clan. Even if he hadn’t, Dr. Jacob had already made his opinion of Teena clear, and the very things she admired in him made it impossible for him to change.

Yet he was the answer to her prayers. Somehow she must convince him to let her learn from him.

He stepped off the trail and climbed toward them.

“He is going to help?” Jimmy asked.

“He’s a white doctor.” She didn’t say more. Dr. Jacob seemed to think the Tlingit could offer nothing to a white man’s needs. A white doctor for the white man. Would he also think a native healer for natives? Would he help a native if the need arose?