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Authors: Tracie Peterson
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doctor’s instructions, handing him the supplies he needed to treat the infected hand.
“This town doesn’t seem to overly concern itself with cleanliness. You cannot have a wound of this magnitude and not pay heed to keeping it clean.”
The man and woman exchanged a look. The woman frowned. “Miz Foster said to keep the poultice on. She told us not to wash it at all – said the herbs would draw it until the moon was full. It was a full moon last night, and we took off the bandages.”
“Well, apparently she was wrong,” Dr. Clayton said. He looked to Deborah. “Is this some of that superstitious nonsense you told me about?”
She nodded as the doctor continued to clean the hand. The man was clearly in horrible pain, but though his face paled, he said nothing. She fanned away the flies that hovered and prayed that God would intercede to heal the wound.
“I’ll need to see you first thing in the morning,” Dr. Clayton told the man.
“Cain’t.” He barely breathed the word. “Gotta be at the mill.”
Dr. Clayton straightened. “If you do what I tell you to, I might be able to save your hand. If you don’t, I can guarantee you that you will lose it.”
“John, you cain’t lose your hand.” The woman’s voice was edged with hysteria. “You cain’t work without a hand.”
Deborah reached out to touch the woman’s arm. “Dr. Clayton is a good man. He’ll do what he can, but you have to be willing to do your part. Mr. Perkins trusts him, and you should, too.” She knew that most everyone thought fondly of the sawmill owner. “He looked far and wide to find a doctor as well trained as Dr. Clayton. He wouldn’t allow your care to just anyone.”
“She’s right, Sally.” A fine line of perspiration edged the man’s upper lip. “Doc, will you let Mr. Perkins know that you told me to come here in the morning?”
“I will speak with him as soon as we’ve finished. Now this wound needs to drain.” He instructed Sally as to what she needed to do. “Do exactly as I’ve told you, understand?”
She nodded. Deborah felt sorry for the woman and patted her hand. “You did the right thing in coming here. Dr. Clayton will do everything he can.”
Once the couple was gone, Dr. Clayton turned to Deborah. “You handled that well.”
She shrugged. “I just wanted to help.”
“You definitely did that.”
The train whistle sounded in the distance and Deborah realized she would need to go. She quickly washed her hands. “Things are starting to look a whole lot better in here, but I need to go. Thanks for the loan of the journals.” She gathered up the three magazines that she’d set aside to take with her. “I’ll have them back soon.”
“Please thank your mother for the doughnuts.”
“I’m sure there will be other offerings as people get used to the idea of having a regular doctor. You’ll find folks around here can be very friendly once they feel safe with you.”
She wanted to tell him how much she admired his skills but held back. Instead, she just smiled and headed for the door. “Mama also wanted you to know that you’re always welcome at the house. Come anytime for supper – or any other meal, for that matter.”
Deborah didn’t wait for an answer but headed out across the dirt road and made her way to where the little engine waited.
“Come on up,” the fireman said, extending his hand.
Deborah gathered her skirts, careful not to damage the journals, and made the stretch to reach the first step. She grabbed the grimy rail and pulled herself up. George steadied her as she finally made it into the engine compartment. The engineer, an older man named Jack, tipped a finger to his cap and gave the whistle another short blast.
“I figured you’d come back with all sorts of girly geegaws,” George told her. “Told Jack we probably wouldn’t have room for it all.”
She smiled. “I’m not much of a shopper, George.” She held up the journals. “More of a
“This town doesn’t seem to overly concern itself with cleanliness. You cannot have a wound of this magnitude and not pay heed to keeping it clean.”
The man and woman exchanged a look. The woman frowned. “Miz Foster said to keep the poultice on. She told us not to wash it at all – said the herbs would draw it until the moon was full. It was a full moon last night, and we took off the bandages.”
“Well, apparently she was wrong,” Dr. Clayton said. He looked to Deborah. “Is this some of that superstitious nonsense you told me about?”
She nodded as the doctor continued to clean the hand. The man was clearly in horrible pain, but though his face paled, he said nothing. She fanned away the flies that hovered and prayed that God would intercede to heal the wound.
“I’ll need to see you first thing in the morning,” Dr. Clayton told the man.
“Cain’t.” He barely breathed the word. “Gotta be at the mill.”
Dr. Clayton straightened. “If you do what I tell you to, I might be able to save your hand. If you don’t, I can guarantee you that you will lose it.”
“John, you cain’t lose your hand.” The woman’s voice was edged with hysteria. “You cain’t work without a hand.”
Deborah reached out to touch the woman’s arm. “Dr. Clayton is a good man. He’ll do what he can, but you have to be willing to do your part. Mr. Perkins trusts him, and you should, too.” She knew that most everyone thought fondly of the sawmill owner. “He looked far and wide to find a doctor as well trained as Dr. Clayton. He wouldn’t allow your care to just anyone.”
“She’s right, Sally.” A fine line of perspiration edged the man’s upper lip. “Doc, will you let Mr. Perkins know that you told me to come here in the morning?”
“I will speak with him as soon as we’ve finished. Now this wound needs to drain.” He instructed Sally as to what she needed to do. “Do exactly as I’ve told you, understand?”
She nodded. Deborah felt sorry for the woman and patted her hand. “You did the right thing in coming here. Dr. Clayton will do everything he can.”
Once the couple was gone, Dr. Clayton turned to Deborah. “You handled that well.”
She shrugged. “I just wanted to help.”
“You definitely did that.”
The train whistle sounded in the distance and Deborah realized she would need to go. She quickly washed her hands. “Things are starting to look a whole lot better in here, but I need to go. Thanks for the loan of the journals.” She gathered up the three magazines that she’d set aside to take with her. “I’ll have them back soon.”
“Please thank your mother for the doughnuts.”
“I’m sure there will be other offerings as people get used to the idea of having a regular doctor. You’ll find folks around here can be very friendly once they feel safe with you.”
She wanted to tell him how much she admired his skills but held back. Instead, she just smiled and headed for the door. “Mama also wanted you to know that you’re always welcome at the house. Come anytime for supper – or any other meal, for that matter.”
Deborah didn’t wait for an answer but headed out across the dirt road and made her way to where the little engine waited.
“Come on up,” the fireman said, extending his hand.
Deborah gathered her skirts, careful not to damage the journals, and made the stretch to reach the first step. She grabbed the grimy rail and pulled herself up. George steadied her as she finally made it into the engine compartment. The engineer, an older man named Jack, tipped a finger to his cap and gave the whistle another short blast.
“I figured you’d come back with all sorts of girly geegaws,” George told her. “Told Jack we probably wouldn’t have room for it all.”
She smiled. “I’m not much of a shopper, George.” She held up the journals. “More of a
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