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Authors: Kathleen Morgan
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leave you?”
Noah laughed. “Of course you can. You know you can trust me.”
“Trust that all the food doesn’t end up out the window, but in your stomach?”
“Most certainly. After all, you’ve got Beth as a witness.”
Millie eyed him for a moment. “Yes, I suppose I do. And if you can’t trust a doctor and a priest, who can you trust?”
“My sentiments exactly.” Noah pushed back his chair, stood, and came around to where his aunt sat beside the tub.
“Come along, m’lady.” He grasped her elbow and pulled her to her feet. “Allow me to escort you to your bedchamber.”
As soon as she was standing, Millie laughingly jerked her arm away. “I’m not that decrepit, you young whippersnap–per, that I need an escort to my room. You just sit yourself back down and finish off your supper. That’s all you need to do.”
Millie paused only long enough to shoot Beth a grin, then turned and marched from the kitchen. When she was gone, Noah walked back and took his seat.
“She can get a bit feisty at times, Millie can,” he offered by way of explanation. “She’s always been one independent woman. She’s had to be, to move all the way out here as a young woman of twenty in the late 1860s when my uncle got it into his head to start up a church in the middle of the Colorado high plains. Talk about some hard times, not to mention the Indians weren’t all that friendly in those days, either.”
Beth shrugged, then applied some shampoo to Emily’s hair. “By then, the Indians had seen enough to realize the threat the settlers presented. The massacre at Sand Creek wasn’t that many years earlier, you know.”
“They were some of your mother’s people, weren’t they? The Cheyenne, I mean, who died at Sand Creek?”
“Yes, they were.” Beth didn’t look up, apparently intent on scrubbing a squirming Emily’s head. “My mother was a year old. She and her mother were the only ones in their family to survive the massacre.”
“If they’d lived long enough to see it, wouldn’t your mother and grandmother be proud of what you’ve accomplished?”Beth lifted her gaze to meet his. “And what exactly have I accomplished? That I was nearly able to hide my Indian heritage and pass for a white woman? That I so successfully learned white ways that I could attend a white man’s medical school?”
Noah stared at her. He had thought she had shared her heart with him countless times when she was a girl. But Beth had never spoken of the pain of her Indian heritage, not even while she was growing up.
“I suppose I blundered pretty insensitively into that, didn’t I?” he asked after an awkward silence. “I just never realized how proud you were of your Cheyenne heritage.”
“Why would you realize it? I didn’t think about it much myself until, far from the support of my family, I was faced with the unexpected bigotry I encountered back East. Those people, after all, had never encountered Indians, much less suffered at the hands of them, like we out here have.” She gave a harsh laugh. “I earned more than just a medical degree while I was gone. I earned a degree in people, too, and I can’t say as how I liked much of what I learned.”
She glanced down, picked up a folded washcloth, and handed it to him. “I’m ready to rinse Emily’s hair. Why don’t you hold this over her eyes? It’ll help keep most of the soap out of them.”
Noah got up from his chair and placed the washcloth he had taken from Beth over his daughter’s eyes.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart. We’re going to rinse your hair now.”
“Dadadada,” Emily chirped, nodding her head and squirming in the tub.
With his free hand, Noah gently grasped her shoulder to steady her. “Better get this done with as quickly as you can.” He looked up at Beth. “Emily isn’t overly fond of getting her hair rinsed and can raise a ruckus if you take too long at it.”
“So Millie warned me.” Beth grabbed a pitcher. “She
Noah laughed. “Of course you can. You know you can trust me.”
“Trust that all the food doesn’t end up out the window, but in your stomach?”
“Most certainly. After all, you’ve got Beth as a witness.”
Millie eyed him for a moment. “Yes, I suppose I do. And if you can’t trust a doctor and a priest, who can you trust?”
“My sentiments exactly.” Noah pushed back his chair, stood, and came around to where his aunt sat beside the tub.
“Come along, m’lady.” He grasped her elbow and pulled her to her feet. “Allow me to escort you to your bedchamber.”
As soon as she was standing, Millie laughingly jerked her arm away. “I’m not that decrepit, you young whippersnap–per, that I need an escort to my room. You just sit yourself back down and finish off your supper. That’s all you need to do.”
Millie paused only long enough to shoot Beth a grin, then turned and marched from the kitchen. When she was gone, Noah walked back and took his seat.
“She can get a bit feisty at times, Millie can,” he offered by way of explanation. “She’s always been one independent woman. She’s had to be, to move all the way out here as a young woman of twenty in the late 1860s when my uncle got it into his head to start up a church in the middle of the Colorado high plains. Talk about some hard times, not to mention the Indians weren’t all that friendly in those days, either.”
Beth shrugged, then applied some shampoo to Emily’s hair. “By then, the Indians had seen enough to realize the threat the settlers presented. The massacre at Sand Creek wasn’t that many years earlier, you know.”
“They were some of your mother’s people, weren’t they? The Cheyenne, I mean, who died at Sand Creek?”
“Yes, they were.” Beth didn’t look up, apparently intent on scrubbing a squirming Emily’s head. “My mother was a year old. She and her mother were the only ones in their family to survive the massacre.”
“If they’d lived long enough to see it, wouldn’t your mother and grandmother be proud of what you’ve accomplished?”Beth lifted her gaze to meet his. “And what exactly have I accomplished? That I was nearly able to hide my Indian heritage and pass for a white woman? That I so successfully learned white ways that I could attend a white man’s medical school?”
Noah stared at her. He had thought she had shared her heart with him countless times when she was a girl. But Beth had never spoken of the pain of her Indian heritage, not even while she was growing up.
“I suppose I blundered pretty insensitively into that, didn’t I?” he asked after an awkward silence. “I just never realized how proud you were of your Cheyenne heritage.”
“Why would you realize it? I didn’t think about it much myself until, far from the support of my family, I was faced with the unexpected bigotry I encountered back East. Those people, after all, had never encountered Indians, much less suffered at the hands of them, like we out here have.” She gave a harsh laugh. “I earned more than just a medical degree while I was gone. I earned a degree in people, too, and I can’t say as how I liked much of what I learned.”
She glanced down, picked up a folded washcloth, and handed it to him. “I’m ready to rinse Emily’s hair. Why don’t you hold this over her eyes? It’ll help keep most of the soap out of them.”
Noah got up from his chair and placed the washcloth he had taken from Beth over his daughter’s eyes.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart. We’re going to rinse your hair now.”
“Dadadada,” Emily chirped, nodding her head and squirming in the tub.
With his free hand, Noah gently grasped her shoulder to steady her. “Better get this done with as quickly as you can.” He looked up at Beth. “Emily isn’t overly fond of getting her hair rinsed and can raise a ruckus if you take too long at it.”
“So Millie warned me.” Beth grabbed a pitcher. “She
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