Read Online Ghosts of Graveyards Past by Laura Briggs - Free Book Online

in the square, or the diviner who dangled a wedding band over women’s palms to tell whether it was boy or girl who formed inside their growing stomach.
    The doctor’s skin was untouched by harsh weather. Auburn tresses wound into a crown of neatly pinned braids. Nell brushed the strands of dingy yellow from her face, seeing dirt lodged beneath her fingernails from helping in the garden earlier. Dr. Moore—or Mariah as she was called—showed hands that were smooth and clean folded atop her medical bag.
    “She’s got no grit,” had been the estimate of Nell’s father. Shaking his head in a wry motion, he watched the doctor set off on foot for a house in need of her skills as a midwife.
    She had brought no money with her for buying a horse, the boots she wore broke down quickly under the rocky paths in the nearby wood.
    Their neighbors viewed her with begrudging acceptance, coming to her for medicines that were sold by the former apothecary. Broken bones and gaping wounds—some of them belonging to livestock—made up the bulk of her work, among the few early patients who would trust a woman doctor. In between, she struggled to fill her time, and Nell wished fervently her talent might be applied to another case, as Arthur struggled even to plant the seed for his family’s barley crop.
    She heard the cough that stole his breath, felt the clammy nature of his skin when he offered her a carriage ride back from a neighbor’s house one day. As they neared the Darrow homestead, the doctor passed them on one of the family’s horses, saddlebag bulging with supplies for customers who lived in the stretch of woods beyond the spring.
    “Have you seen the physician at work yet?” Arthur asked, his gaze following the woman with curiosity.
    Her beauty was unmistakable, even in the plain clothes she wore to navigate the landscape’s rough terrain. She had not returned his glance, posture ramrod straight as she followed the path that would take her to Crooked Wood.
    “Miss Moore seems a good hand at medicine,” Nell told him, “though I have not seen her skill so much as heard about it. She receives few visits at the house, though anyone is welcome to call on her in the parlor.”
    This was a hint, one she put forth timidly. To contradict his parents was something Nell would never dream of, though she feared they might be his undoing. She pressed his hand affectionately as he lowered her from the cart. “You are welcome to come inside for a cup of Granny Clare’s tea.”
    “Another day,” he promised, thoughts elsewhere as he released her fingers. Where, she did not have to guess, as he gazed back down the road where Mariah’s horse had long since disappeared from sight.
    At last, he sought the doctor’s advice. Mr. Widlow gave him permission, since he was beginning to feel the loss of his son’s strength in tending the crops. His arrival caught the family by surprise, Nell and her mother patching garments, while Mariah conducted inventory of her medicine cabinet.
    Both women stayed present for the exam, although Mrs. Darrow’s mouth formed a line of disapproval, and Nell tried in vain to concentrate on the shawl she was repairing for her grandmother.
    “This illness has been upon you for some time,” Mariah guessed once the exam had commenced. Her stethoscope tested his chest and lungs as they sat on the bench by the parlor door. She kept her voice low, though not a word escaped the audience seated by the stone hearth.
    “Weeks,” he agreed. “More than a month, I believe. I’ve lost track of the time, though it passes so slowly here at home.”
    She put her stethoscope aside to make notes in the daybook she always carried. “You compare it to the regiment, I suppose. That is where you wish to be, if not for this affliction?”
    “Of course. It is all anyone talks of and all I think about.”
    Without glancing up, she told him, “I have not corresponded with anyone from the camps, but heard many letters from