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Klondike Medicine Woman
Linda Ford
Dr. Jacob Calloway was the answer to her prayers–whether he liked it or not.Teena Crow is desperate to learn his scientific healing methods to help her people. But Jacob is too suspicious of Teena's native remedies to allow her near Treasure Creek's clinic. So she decides to earn his respect–and teach the good doctor to see beyond surface differences to their common goal.But it's not just Teena's medicines that render Jacob uncomfortable. Her warm gaze and determination dare him to open his heart. But can their fledgling love weather a town's disapproval, or the secrets they both hide?
“My heart belongs to God,” Teena said.
Jacob pressed his hand to his chest as Teena had done. “Mine, too.”
They studied each other openly, frankly, for the first time. A sense of something he could only explain as unity wrapped about them, though he could not say if she felt the same. Only that her eyes held his, dark and bottomless, opening to him with trust. He vowed he would treat her fairly from here on. No more judging her with the same anger he judged the shaman who killed Aaron.
Life was more complicated in his world. However, he considered himself a fair man, and there was one more thing he must do to be fair.
“I would like you to help me at the clinic,” he told her. The words were easier to say than he anticipated.
ALASKAN BRIDES:
Women of the Gold Rush
find that love is the greatest treasure of all.
Klondike Medicine Woman—Linda Ford, May 2011
LINDA FORD
shares her life with her rancher husband, a grown son, a live-in client she provides care for and a yappy parrot. She and her husband raised a family of fourteen children, ten adopted, providing her with plenty of opportunity to experience God’s love and faithfulness. They’ve had their share of adventures, as well. Taking twelve kids in a motor home on a three-thousand-mile road trip would be high on the list. They live in Alberta, Canada, close enough to the Rockies to admire them every day. She enjoys writing stories that reveal God’s wondrous love through the lives of her characters.
Linda enjoys hearing from readers. Contact her at linda@lindaford.org or check out her website at www.lindaford.org, where you can also catch her blog, which often carries glimpses of both her writing activities and family life.
Klondike Medicine Woman
Linda Ford
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
But God commendeth his love toward us, in that,
while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.
—Romans 5:8
To Tom, Yvonne, Jordyn and Chris
for sharing our trip to Alaska and Yukon.
You made it a memorable event. Thank you.
Contents
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
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
July 1898, Treasure Creek, Alaska
These people were set on destroying not only the land but themselves, as well.
Teena Crow bent over the injured man. Blood pooled under his leg, a fresh stream joining the black patch in the grass. If she didn’t stop the bleeding soon, he would die beside the Chilkoot Trail like so many others had. She took in his pain-filled eyes, the way the color seeped from his cheeks. Shrugging out of her fur shawl, she wrapped it around him then took out the reindeer moss, the plant known as mare’s tail and other healing remedies she always carried with her. She carefully packed the wound. The blood flow stopped immediately. She watched it a moment then returned her gaze to the man, wondering if he would say with his eyes or mouth, or both, what he thought of a native tending him. Many she’d helped showed no appreciation nor spared their hatred of the people who were here first.
The man’s eyes were already losing their fear-filled pain and he showed nothing but gratitude.
She smiled. “How long have you been here?”
“Since first light,” he croaked.
Light came early in July. That meant he had been there up to twelve hours. Teena held her canteen of water to his lips and he drank heartily. She sat back on her haunches and looked about.
All winter, they had come in boats of every sort in a mad race for the gold fields. They had flung themselves into the water, headed for land like fish thrown up at the knees of the newly formed town of Treasure Creek, Alaska, founded by Mack Tanner. They brought with them a mountain of goods that soon lay scattered across the beach. They clawed their way up the Chilkoot toward the lake and onward. They paid Tlingit Indians like her brother to pack their belongings over the pass where the Canadian Mounties waited to make sure they had the required amount of supplies. All for the glittering gold.
She shook her head. She would never understand the white man. But she had vowed to learn their ways of curing their diseases.
This was not the first one of their kind to be ignored at the side of the trail, as hundreds passed by without once pausing to help. Last winter her brother, Jimmy, had tossed his pack aside and left the path to pick up a man with a broken leg who had lain there all day without anyone helping. Jimmy brought him down the mountain to Teena. He had lived, though he might never walk as well as he once had.
There were many who got help too late.
She checked the man’s wound. No longer bleeding.
He sucked in air in a way that said his pain had let up.
“You will need to rest a few days—” she began.
“Step aside,” a firm voice ordered, interrupting her suggestion that the man should rest until his wound healed.
Teena didn’t move except to turn to stare at the man who spoke. A white man, of course. She’d known that immediately. Over time, she had gotten used to the strange appearance of these people. But this one was different. Eyes brown as spring soil, a little furrow they called a dimple in his chin. A strong face. No head covering, so she got a good look at his close-cropped, dark hair.
As she studied him from under her lowered lashes, something inside her uncurled like a flower opening to the brilliant sun.
He edged her aside and spoke gently to the man. “I’m Dr. Jacob Calloway—a medical doctor. You’re in good hands now.”
Teena dismissed the way he said the words—as if the injured man was in danger of dying before he arrived. All she cared was he said he was a doctor. A white healer. She’d heard such a man had gotten off a boat a few days ago. This was what she needed. What she’d prayed for, not knowing if God would listen to her prayers. Yes, the missionary, Mr. McIntyre, had assured her the Great Creator heard the Indian as much as He heard the white, but she wondered how he could be so certain. Had he ever been a Tlingit and asked for something? How then could he know?
She would watch everything this newly arrived man did, and learn his way of healing.
A boy almost as tall as the doctor stood at his side. He had the eagerness of a child, the height of a man, but not yet the weight. No longer child. Not yet man. With an eager, yet cautious expression. He seemed to belong to the doctor. Perhaps his son, though there was no resemblance. The boy-man was as fair as the doctor was dark.
Dr. Calloway pulled something from his pocket and put a plug in each ear as he pushed aside the injured man’s shirt to press a tiny, cup-like thing to his chest. He then leaned forward and listened.
What did he hear? Was this their way of healing, or was there more?
The doctor straightened, folded his instrument and placed it back in his pocket. “Now let’s have a look at this gash.” He made to pull the moss off.
Teena captured his hands, gently stopping him. “You must not lift it yet. It needs time to work.”
Dr. Calloway gave her a faintly reproving look. “No doubt you mean well, but this requires proper medical care.”
She knew nothing about the white man’s methods. But she knew how to treat a cut. “If you take it off it will get…” She struggled for the English word but couldn’t find one, and had to settle for describing what would happen. “It will get red and oozy.”
“Exactly.” He turned his attention back to the injured man. “You need to keep your wound clean. I have some dressings with me.” He again began to pull off Teena’s work.
The man sat up. “I’m feeling a whole lot better. Whatever this girl did has worked. I’m heading back up the trail.” He pushed to his feet.
Jacob stood, too. “You’ll end up losing your leg if you aren’t careful.”
“I guess I’ll take that chance.” He limped away, Dr. Calloway at his heels, as if he meant to stop him.
The gold seeker paused as he remembered Teena’s fur around his shoulder. He pulled it off and handed it to the doctor. “Give this to the little lady, and my thanks.”
Jacob stared after the man.
Teena shared his sense of helplessness, but had long ago learned people did not always listen to advice, no matter how wise.
“I fear you will get infection,” he called to the man’s back as he limped up the trail. “If you do, please come back to Treasure Creek. I am going to start a medical clinic.”
A medical clinic. White man medicine. Teena’s heart soared. She would offer to help. She’d do anything he asked, if he would only teach her his ways.
The doctor returned to Teena’s side. He slipped her shawl over her shoulders, caught her two braids and lifted them from under the fur. He performed the task naturally, his thoughts obviously elsewhere, but his touch gave the pelt gentle warmth, as if from the noonday sun. For a moment she closed her eyes and enjoyed the comfort.
“I’m going to ask you to stop using your primitive practices on these people.”
Teena slowly turned to stare. “What do you mean?”
“Ignorance kills many.” His expression tightened, marring his strong face and filling his eyes with hardness, but Teena did not back away. She needed this man’s help. Besides, she agreed. Thousands had come seeking the glittering gold—unprepared for the cold, the mountains or any of the dangers. Far too many perished, and hundreds more sat defeated and broken at the edge of the water.
“These people deserve proper medical care.” He picked up his black leather bag and turned back toward Treasure Creek, the boy-man matching his gait stride for stride. He grinned at his young friend. “Seems I got here just in time.”
The boy gave Dr. Calloway an admiring glance.
“You are going to do white man’s medicine?” she asked.
Jacob did not slow his steps, forcing her to hurry to stay at his side. He was a tall man. Taller than most she’d seen. And he walked with purpose. The boy hurried to keep up, too. “That’s why I’m here.”
“You will need help at this clinic?” She congratulated herself on remembering the word.
“I trust there are those who would be interested in assisting me.” He smiled again at the boy.
She rushed onward. “I am Teena Crow of the Tlingit tribe. I will help you.”
He stopped. For a moment he didn’t move, then he faced her, his expression like granite. “Do you know scientific methods?”
Not certain what he meant, she shook her head.
“Are you willing to abandon the practices you’ve been taught?”
She did not answer directly. “I want to learn more.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you.” He strode on.
His words—although softly spoken—were like blows to her. This was what she had longed for, hoped for and prayed for. He was several yards ahead of her and she ran to catch up. “I do not understand.”
“Your people’s ignorant ways have killed many. Now that I’m here, I can save others from such malarkey.” He continued to the busy town that hadn’t existed a few months ago.
Teena stared after him. She must have misunderstood him. Or he had misunderstood her. She followed the pair slowly, at a distance, as they made their way to the center of town. Jacob paused at the church—the first building Mack Tanner had constructed. Now he was adding to it to allow more people to attend services. Across the street stood another building—the school. They taught children to read and write. Mack said the native children were welcome to learn along with the whites, but the Indian children had accompanied their families to the fishing streams and helped with drying fish for the winter.
Teena wished, not for the first time, she could read. Then she could learn how to treat white man’s diseases without need of a teacher.
Dr. Calloway hurried onward to the street opening to the waterfront, the boy still at his side, pointing and talking. The store on the left did not draw the doctor’s interest. Instead, he turned to the empty space across the street. Was this where he intended to have his clinic?
The man-boy spoke, waving his arms wildly. The doctor nodded and the boy hurried toward the waterfront and the throng of people and supplies.
Teena would never get used to the scurrying crowds, the unending noise, the strange smell of so many unfamiliar things.
She hung back, watching as the doctor paced the piece of land.
