Chosen Profession

by ladybrit

A short story of prejudice and acceptance

Chosen Profession August 2014

Melissa Anders stood by the window watching the rain turn the street outside into a pool of mud. Despite the rapidly worsening conditions there were still horses and wagons ploughing through the slop, which caused waves of the unwelcome water to make their way over the board walk and under the ill fitting front door of her office. She had already changed the towels on the floor twice, but they were losing the battle against the invading elements again and she got down on her knees once more to mop up the invading liquid. This was certainly not the way she had thought her life would turn out when she arrived at this outpost of humanity, five years ago.

At that time Caldwell had been in existence for a mere seven years, but even in that short time it had become one of the wildest towns around. Straddling the Chisholm trail where it left Indian Territory meant that the Texas cowboys driving cattle north to meet the railroad finally had some place to celebrate and let off steam. There had been more saloons, gambling houses and other establishments catering to the needs of men in this one location than in any other for miles around. There was more violence, more murders and more law officers killed here than in any other town. Now it was quieter because there were fewer cattle drives coming this way, most had moved west and with them had gone much of the livelihood of Caldwell. There were still more saloons here than any other type of business, but many more had closed up leaving abandoned buildings available for all types of outlaws to use for their illegal purposes.

There was no law officer to maintain peace in the town any more. There and been a sheriff until about six months ago, but he had disappeared one wild night, no one knew how or why, and no one else could be found to take on the job. There had also been a church for a while, but the preacher had been killed during one bout of particularly rough revelry and no new man of the cloth had managed to find his way here. Likewise, at one time there had been a doctor in Caldwell but he had packed up his family and left for a more peaceful location shortly before the cattle business had reached its peak.

That had been a year or more before she arrived, full of enthusiasm for her new profession knowing that people would welcome her skills with open arms. Sadly it didn't work that way. There was not a man in Caldwell who would set foot inside her office thinking that a woman could not possibly learn medical skills, and at first even the women were suspicious and would not venture to see her. It was thought to be very unseemly for a women to step into such a profession and see and do things that were obviously more suited for the male intellect. She had felt like a social outcast and was almost brought to tears, several times. After all the battles she had fought to get to this point in her life, it now seemed to have been in vain.

Then, as sometimes happens, fate stepped in and began to change things. Almost two years had passed since she arrived in the town and in that time she had treated fewer than a dozen people, but now a young woman was having a difficult labor. The woman was the daughter of the owner of the only bank in town and when it looked like neither mother or baby would survive he came to her begging for her to try to save his daughter and grand child. He offered whatever payment she asked if only she could do something. The baby was a breech presentation and for a while it had looked like it was almost too late for Melissa to do anything at all. She performed an emergency cesarean section as a last resort and, more by luck than skill, mother and son survived the ordeal and both flourished.

After that the women of the town gradually began to accept her and would come to her with their illnesses and aches. They would even bring their children to her sometimes, and eventually even the men started coming to her for run of the mill complaints. Slowly she began to feel part of the community but also knew that she was still an anomaly in their minds.

Sometimes she thought she had reached the peak of her career. It was not the heights she had envisioned for herself. "Lil" as her family had called her had had big ideas right from the start. In birth order she was sandwiched between two brothers, another boy and then two girls had followed. The youngest girl had died before her first birthday and she had watched the devastation of her family that followed the tragic event. Her mother had simply lost the will to live and over the course of six months had faded away before their eyes. Up to that point the family had lived very comfortably in a large house on the outskirts of Boston. Her brothers had attended a local school of high repute, and she and her remaining sister were educated at home by a full time governess. Her father owned an import business bringing spices from the west Indies and his income made a comfortable life for the children.

Following his wife's untimely death, a sister of Mr. Anders came to live with them and run the household. After just six months, for emotional and financial reasons, Mr. Anders decided the family needed a new start and moved them lock stock and barrel to New York so that he could join his brother's business.

The Victorian era into which she had been born had a heavy influence on Boston society even though the land from which it came was thousands of miles away across a large ocean. There were very strict ideas as to what was appropriate and proper for girls and young ladies to learn and what they could do in life. Melissa had always fought against the system. She had hated leaving Boston but here in New York many cultures where thriving and the Victorian values did not hold as much sway. She was able to attend school with her brothers and study the same subjects as they did and soon found she was fascinated by science and mathematics. Young women, of course, were not supposed to be interested in such things but her father indulged her enthusiasm and brought books home for her to study.

At the age of fourteen another tragedy struck the Anders family, Mr Anders sister who had been with them since Mrs. Anders died, got sick. She was ill for several months and Melissa, as the oldest girl was assigned the task of taking care of her. She begged her father to find some medical books, maybe she could find out what was wrong with her Aunt and get her well again. Inevitably the woman had died, but the reading she had done left Melissa with a lasting desire to learn more. She was tentative about mentioning her plans to her father, after all it was not a career path considered suitable for a young woman, but as always he wanted to indulge his charming and educated daughter and eventually at the age of nineteen she went off to live with a Doctor and his family in St. Joseph Missouri, to read medicine. It was a pre requisite for entering a formal medical school and she thought she was well on her way. Sadly Melissa soon found that her reading had given her far more knowledge than the Doctor she was supposed to be studying under. Even so he was a kindly soul and let her stay with him, acting more as an unpaid nurse than a serious student.

It had been an uphill battle to get accepted into medical school, most had rejected her flat out on the grounds that she was a woman, but eventually her persistence paid off and she found her way to a small medical college in upstate New York. She had thought her troubles were over then, but found she still had to suffer the ridicule her fellow students and professors meted out to the only woman in the class. Melissa paid them no mind and studied to the best of her ability, just glad of the opportunity to learn. She finished up graduating with a higher score on her final exams than any of her male counterparts. Surely now, she thought with medical diploma in hand, she could start her chosen profession. But as in the past, more battles lay ahead.

xxxxx

For Matt Dillon it had been a tough three weeks. He had ridden halfway through the nations, tracking a group outlaws who had robbed a stage and killed the driver and one of the passengers. The passenger had been a woman and the killing particularly brutal. The outcry following the incident had been the cause of Matt being assigned to hunt down and arrest those responsible no matter how long it took and to whatever part of the country it took him.

The stage holdup had been one of a series of robberies and had taken place just outside of the town of Liberal. Following that incident there had been robberies and holdups of a similar nature in Salina, Wichita and several other small townships. Each was more brutal that the one before and it had become a high priority to stop this gang. Their last big heist had been a bank in a small affluent community on the outskirts of Jefferson City, Missouri. They had got away with fifty thousand dollars and in the process killed two bank tellers and a young pregnant woman who happened to be passing on the street at the wrong time.

He had picked up their trail just north of the town of Galena. To call it a town was a stretch of the imagination, it was little more than a mining community. Lead had been discovered there a few years before and so the tent city had started. The outlaws were headed southwest through the land of the Osage and then, he surmised, most likely planned to cross the Mexican border,.

What had started off as a gang of 5 was now down to three. He had come across the bodies. There must have been an argument among the group because both had been shot with guns, not arrows.

He found their camp quite suddenly one evening. Fortunately he had known he was getting close and was moving slowly. They didn't hear his approach because they were arguing loudly, mostly about the division of the money they had stolen. Money had an evil effect on men, Matt had seen it happen many times. Put a stack of money in front of a group of otherwise honest men and it wasn't long before greed and hatred took over.

He had left his horse tethered a good way back from the camp, and carefully made his way under cover of darkness and a few tall grasses until he was well within range. He got to his feet and drew his gun planning to confront and arrest the men. Two of them saw him and fired - he killed both, the third lunged at him with a hunting knife. A fight ensued, Matt finished up getting handcuffs on the man - but got a pretty deep knife wound in his thigh during the process.

His intention now was to take the remaining prisoner and leave the Osage territory before being discovered. The most direct route would be to stay in the Nations and head Northwest to Kansas. Even so it would be a five day ride to Dodge. Matt was undeterred. He saw no alternative but to take the remaining outlaw to jail so that the court could decide his fate.

It didn't take but a few hours ride before he felt blood flowing down his leg from the knife wound. He stopped for a short break to tie a bandana around his leg and then continued, but it soon became apparent, even to him, that there was no way he would get the prisoner to Dodge without help. They made camp for the night and he went to great lengths to secure his prisoner to a tree in order to prevent his escape, before going down to the nearby creek and cleaning the knife wound as best he could. Even to his eye it didn't look good. Later that night Matt began to feel bad. The wound was bleeding and he knew he had developed a fever. The knife his prisoner had used was old and well worn and by the looks of it not cleaned too often and that had led to a brisk infection developing in the wound. He lay there thinking for a while about the best way to handle the situation. He figured if he headed directly north they would come to the town of Caldwell. There was a Sheriff there, and, last he had heard, a doctor, so maybe he could get some stitches put in his leg, then continue west to Dodge.

xxxxx

There was an old man sitting in front of the Sheriff's office when he rode into town with prisoner in tow. Dillon pulled his horse over and looked at the man.

"Who are you mister?" he asked.

"Name's Templin" the man said looking up at the Marshal and squinting his eyes against the sun.

"Templin, I'm a United States Marshal and I am looking for the Sheriff. I have a prisoner here I need to lock in his jail for a few hours."

Templin got up from the old rocking chair he had been sitting in and came closer to the big man on the buckskin horse.

"Sheriff's not here," he said, "He ain't been seen in a long time. What's your name anyway?"

"Matt Dillon, I work out of Dodge City." He flipped his vest back so the old man could see his badge.

"Well, Marshal, you're the first lawman we've seen in these parts for six months or more. Sheriff Ogilvy just up and disappeared one night and ain't bin seen since." The old man looked at the Marshal and chewed pensively on his tobacco plug for a few moments, "Say you're hurt ain't yer." He spoke matter of factly and continued chewing as if this were an everyday occurrence.

"It's not too bad but I need to see your town Doctor before heading on to Dodge."

Templin fished in his pocket and together with an old rusty knife and a length of string he produced a key,

"I can unlock the jail for yer. It's none too clean but I don't reckon he'll give that much mind."

Matt got down from his horse with difficulty, then drew his gun and motioned the prisoner to dismount so he could walk him into the jail. Once Templin had turned the key in the cell door, locking the prisoner inside, he relaxed.

"How come you have that key?"
"I used to work for the Sheriff from time to time. I still hope he'll come back one day, best job I ever head."
"Tell me where the Doc's office is, I need to get this leg patched up so I can be on my way."

"Oh its three buildings down, over there across the street. There's a shingle hangin' by the door."
"Thanks." Matt took his hat off and wiped his forehead, he was sweating and knew he had a fever. His leg was throbbing and he couldn't go much further. He dug in his vest pocket and pulled out some coins and handed them to Templin.

"Take this and get him a meal and something to drink, and get something for yourself. Oh and take care of my horse if you would."

"Sure thing Marshal. You sure you can make it?'

"Yeh I'll be all right," he reached up and removed his Sharp's rifle from the saddle."

"You got a gun in there?"

"No, all the rifles vanished along with the Sheriff."

"Take this in case you need it." He handed over the weapon then dragged his weakening body across the street. It must have come a pretty big rain here recently, he noted, most of the street was mud and deep wagon tracks.

He saw the sign on the door 'M.E. Anders MD" and knocked before entering.

The office was clean and neatly arranged although the furnishings were sparse and well worn.

A young woman stepped forward. "I need to see the Doctor," he told her, "I got a knife wound in my leg, I think it needs a few stitches."
He almost collapsed to the floor, but she grabbed his arm and managed to lead him to a chair. She couldn't help but notice the growing blood stain on his pants. Some of the blood looked fresh so apparently it was still actively bleeding.

"When did this happen?" she asked as she poured him a small measure of whisky.

He took the glass and gratefully swallowed the contents. It made him feel a somewhat better. "A day or so ago," he told her.

"Can you stand up now? I need to get you on to the table." She helped him to his feet.

"You're a lawman?" she asked noticing his badge.

"Name's Matt Dillon ma'am," he grunted, "United states Marshal out of Dodge City."

"We haven't had a lawman in this town since Sheriff Ogilvy left.… No one wants the job," she added by way of explanation. She was leading him to the operating table while she spoke, and helped him as he struggled to get himself comfortable. She felt his pulse, it was rapid due to blood loss and he had a significant fever.

Matt could feel himself drifting into unconsciousness, but rapidly came to when he felt her unbuckling his gun belt.

"We need to get this out of the way," she said as she removed it and slung it over the back of a nearby chair. That done he relaxed gain, and closed his eyes for a moment only to be disturbed when meticulously, one by one, she started to undo the buttons of his shirt. Feeling this was not quite proper he tried to hold the garment closed around him, but a minute later she produced a stethoscope and plugged it into her ears. With gentle movements she bared his chest and began to listen. Something was wrong. Where was the Doctor? - This must be his wife or his nurse, why was she acting in this way? She stepped back and Dillon immediately closed the shirt around himself once more.

Apparently she had satisfied herself with what she heard.

"You have a fever and you've lost a lot of blood," she told him. " Now let's look at that leg." She began undoing his trouser belt and he suddenly felt a fit of modesty.

"No wait, where's the Doctor?" he asked almost in panic grabbing hold of the belt buckle.

"I am the Doctor, Marshal. Doctor Melissa Anders at your service. Now let's get on with this before you bleed to death."

"But.." he started to try to sit up. She pushed him back down.

"Don't worry, I have treated men before."

Briskly she unfastened his pants and began to pull them down over his hips.
"Come on lift up for me, I need to get these off to treat your leg."

"Can't you just cut the leg of my pants,"

"It's too near your groin for that, I'd have to cut them clear up to the waistband, then they'd be ruined. You'll need your pants to get home and right now, as bad as they are, they can be laundered and repaired. "She produced a sheet and placed over him.

"Here maybe this will help your modesty."

It didn't improve things much, but it was better than nothing. Gently she eased his pants and union suit down his legs away from the wound. Finally she removed his boots and slid them all the way off. He could feel her hands as she pushed the sheet aside to look at the wound. Her fingers began to probe around the angry tissues.

"There's already a lot of infection here Marshal. Lucky you came in when you did."

He knew his face was getting red as she studied his thigh. His embarrassment quickly turned to pain as she touched the edges of the wound. She covered him again and went to pour more whisky.

"Here I want you to drink this, that wound is pretty bad and I'm going to have to clean it out before I can sew it back together."
Somehow it didn't feel right, a woman other than Kitty being that close to his thigh. She was even planning to do surgery, what would Doc think about it? He had heard of a few women becoming doctors, but never thought he would meet one, especially under these circumstances.

He raised his shoulders up enough to drink the whisky, being careful to keep the sheet tightly wrapped around him. She had offered him ether, but he was reluctant to take that.

He heard her preparing instruments - just the same way Doc would do. He had barely finished the alcohol when she returned.

Once more she moved the sheet over, carefully exposing his leg to her satisfaction.

"I'm going to wash my hands and collect my instruments so just lie still,"

He wanted to make sure she had kept everything else covered and started to reach his hand down towards his inner thigh trying to pull the cover a little further over himself.

"No Marshal," she said, knocking his hand away, "I have it set like I need it, so please try to relax. If it makes you feel any better, you are not the first man I have operated on." She gave a little smile, not seductive, more amusement at his embarrassment.

He tried to lay back and do as he was told but the situation was all wrong. The alcohol and the fever where beginning to take their toll on his consciousness, he must have drifted off for a moment because suddenly pain brought him around,

"Hold still now" he heard her say. "I have to clean this area before I start. You don't want infection taking hold."

He clenched his teeth, trying not to complain as she carefully cleaned the tissue and removed the dried blood. She noted that there was still active bleeding and that meant there was a blood vessel somewhere in the wound that she would have to find and tie off.

Melissa enjoyed her work, she got a great deal of satisfaction out of repairing wounds and treating people who were sick. It always surprised her that men, such as her current patient, had no problem with the idea of a male physician tending a female patient - but when the tables were reversed, the men were very reluctant. She knew that this one would not have accepted her ministrations by choice but for now she planned to show him she could be just as professional as a man and do just as good a job, maybe even better. She could tell he was hurting as she cleaned the damaged tissues.

"I really wish you'd let me give you a little ether, " she told him.

Again he refused. As she continued he gave a particularly loud gasp and then went limp. She picked up his wrist, the pulse was still steady and strong, he had passed out from pain. Men could be so stubborn at times. At least now she could finish what she had started without causing him more discomfort. She found the bleeding vessel and carefully closed it off with a silk tie. Her delicate hands were swift and accurate and she prided herself in her ability to make neat, careful sutures so that even ugly wounds would heal with a minimal amount of scarring. She finally finished, her patient had not stirred again and although he gave a small moan as she bandaged his leg, he showed no other sign of waking up.

xxxxx

Melissa was right there. She had been cooling his face and neck with cold well water on a sponge.

"About time you woke up," she told him as she felt for his wrist.

At first he was confused and couldn't remember where he was. He felt soft hands wiping his face - but they weren't Kitty's hands. This woman with the soft hands had brown hair and honey color eyes. She was not what he would call beautiful but there was a strength of purpose about her that he often saw in Kitty. Slowly it came back to him, this was Dr. Melissa Anders, she had been stitching his leg when he passed out. As he became more aware he realized that apart from a thin sheet, he was naked to the world.

"How long have I been here?" His voice was a little hoarse as he tried to cover his awkwardness.

"Almost three days, you had a pretty high fever but it broke two or three hours ago so I've been expecting you to wake up."

He thought for a minute, carefully pulling the sheet that was covering him tighter to his body. He cleared his throat with a nervous cough.

"Where are my clothes?"

"You won't be needing them just yet - I sent them all to be laundered and repaired.

She could see a blush of embarrassment under the permanently weather-beaten skin of his face.

"Don't be so self conscious," she scolded, "I can tell you've had plenty of doctoring in the past - I counted at least 5 bullet wounds and one other knife wound."

He knew where that other knife wound was, "You examined … all of me?"

He felt a combination of embarrassment and horror at the thought of her looking over his body - even though he had been out of it at the time.

"It's part of my job to know my patient, " she replied with a half smile. " I'd look pretty silly if I missed a second injury while tending the obvious one."

Right now he was the one feeling silly and turned an even brighter shade of red.

"You're fine," she laughed, patting his hand. She began to turn away to get more cool water but had another thought she could not resist. "Oh and just so you know, you have nothing to be embarrassed about." She gave a look that was not flirtatious, but was accompanied by a wicked grin. She was teasing him, somehow it served to show her confidence in that she could say something like that to a man lying naked in her office. It also eased the tension between them.

"Why did you take it on yourself to become a doctor? It is not a profession many women follow."

She smiled, rinsing out the cloth in the fresh water and dabbing at his face once more.

"It certainly wasn't easy, but it was something I knew I had to do. Can you understand that?"

Matt had to agree that he could, but it was not a feeling he ever thought a woman would have. It had been an insatiable drive from within that had made him take up the badge. Could it have been the same for her? She had certainly had to fight her way to get where she was now.

"There are only a few medical schools that will accept women, Marshal, and they do it with reluctance. It is equally hard to find a physician who will allow a woman to study under him. Most male physicians are of the opinion that it is improper for a woman to learn such things and will have no part of it. Some even believe that a woman's brain is inferior and could never accommodate all the knowledge that is required. Even once all your studies are complete and you have a diploma, it is difficult to find acceptance in the community. Most men would eventually allow me to treat their women - especially in childbirth but it has taken me five years to win their confidence enough that some of them will bring me their injuries and illnesses. Even then I know that if there were a male physician within fifty miles they would not come. Like you Marshal, they do not accept me easily."

Her words stung, but were eased by another smile. He did feel guilty about his instinctive prejudice against her. He had always believed people from all races and walks of life should be treated as equals. He had never looked on women as being inferior in any way. It had been the way he was raised. It seemed to come naturally to him to respect a woman but this circumstance had been different and he didn't understand why. He knew that she had taken as good a care of him as Doc and her skills were no less than his, but would he be here on her examining table if he had had a choice? He woke from his thoughts, realizing she was talking to him again.

"You still have a little fever, but I think you would be more comfortable if we can get you to that bed over there." She pointed to a cot set up in the back corner of the room. "If I help you, do you think you can make it."

Matt looked pointedly at the sheet that was his only covering right now.

"We can handle that, just sit up for me and swing your legs to the floor,"

He did as he was asked, paying great attention to the sheet that afforded him at least a modicum of modesty. Swiftly she gathered the ends of the makeshift garment and put them in his left hand.

"You hang on to that and put your other arm here," she placed it across her own shoulders. "Now try to stand… slowly now," she cautioned as she helped him to get his feet securely on the floor. He was surprised by her strength as they made their way to the prepared cot. She helped him lower himself on to it so as not to stress the recent injury.

"How long are you going to keep me here?" he asked her as she pulled the covers over him.

"If you have no fever tomorrow I can let you go. I am a little concerned about you riding all the way to Dodge City though - maybe you could take the Stage."

"I have a prisoner to escort, horseback is safer, too many things can go wrong on the stage." He had taken many prisoners on the stage, but always worried about the danger to other passengers, and avoided it where possible.

She had been making coffee on the small stove near the front door of the office and filled two mugs with the steaming liquid. She brought one over to him then pulled up a chair beside the cot and sat there sipping on her own.

"I have to go and check on a new mother and baby I delivered a week ago. I shouldn't be more than two hours so I want you to rest and give that fever chance to subside."

"How long have you been here in Caldwell?" He was curious about her now. "It seems a pretty rough town for a lady."

She gave a half laugh. "Most people wouldn't class me as a lady, Marshal. It wasn't so bad when I first came here, but the sheriff disappeared about six months ago and things have gotten markedly worse since then. The cattle drives don't come through here any more, but we have a number of disused buildings in town that serve as hide outs for all manner of unlawful pursuits. I have often thought of leaving but there are people here who need me and I have already earned their trust. I can't betray that by running away, nor can I face starting all over again in a new town."

She reached over and took his now empty cup. "You get some sleep and I'll be back shortly. "

xxxxx

He must have slept for a while because the next thing he saw was her placing his now cleaned and mended clothes on a small table across the room. It apparently served as her desk also, because above it were some plain wooden shelves with a scattering of books and journals.

"How were your patients doing?" he asked for need of something to talk about.

"Oh both of them are just fine. The mother is young and this is her first but he is a fine baby boy and they should do well."

"I see you brought my clothes back," he hinted.

"I did, but you won't need them until I have changed that dressing tomorrow morning."

She removed her bonnet and cloak and hung them on a hook behind the door.

"I need to write a letter to your doctor in Doge and let him know what I did and ask him to remove those sutures in about a week."

She sat at the old well-worn table and took a sheet of paper and an envelope from a drawer.

"What is his name - I presume it is a man?"

"Oh definitely….." he hadn't meant it to sound like that, he tried again, "well you are the first lady physician i have met. His name is Galen Adams."

She took a pen and dipped it in the ink and wrote for several minutes, then she took the envelope and wrote on it.

"There," she said, folding the paper and sealing the envelope, "I will leave it with your clothes, don't forget to take it with you."

"No Ma'am, I won't." He felt much easier with her now - especially since she was way across the room.

The letter finished she walked over to the chair that she had placed by the bed earlier.

"How do you feel now?" she asked as she sat down.

"Like I can leave here tomorrow," he answered.

Carefully she felt his pulse and his forehead.

"You don't have any fever right now, but it would be better if you stayed a few more days." She pushed back the covers to check the dressing on his leg. It was still clean and dry, the bleeding must have stopped.

"Old Mr. Templin will be happy to keep your prisoner for you, I think he misses the Sheriff being here."

Matt relaxed as she replaced the covers over his leg. Now his embarrassment was because of how he had not accepted her to begin with. She was just as competent as Doc and he felt badly about doubting her abilities.

"Maybe I can get a deputy assigned here once I get back to Dodge," he told her. The town is large enough to have some type of law officer."

"That would be good." She was already opening the door to a medicine cabinet. He watched as she took out a small envelope then dissolved its contents in a glass of water. She brought it back to him.

"Here drink this, it will help you get a good nights sleep." If Doc had handed him the concoction he would almost certainly have refused, but he couldn't bring himself to argue with her now especially after how he had behaved earlier, so obediently he drank it down.

xxxxx

It was barely light when she woke him with coffee.

"I have to make a call out of town today so I need an early start," she told him as she gathered bandages and instruments she needed.

The old dressing was still clean and when she had removed it, the wound beneath showed no sign of infection.

"This should heal very well. I'll put an extra thick bandage to protect it, please try not to get it wet," she ordered. When finished she picked up her surgical tray and carried it to the stove to sterilize her instruments in a pot of boiling water. Having got everything arranged to her satisfaction she handed him his clothes and pulled a screen across in front of the cot to give him some privacy for dressing. He gathered his gun belt and put the letter in the inside pocket of his vest.

"How much do I owe you Dr. Anders?" he asked.

"About $4.00 should cover my services and the laundering and mending your clothes."

He searched his pockets and handed over some coins.

"By the way," she said as she accepted the money, "folks around here call me Doctor Lil."

"Good bye and thank you Dr. Lil," he said, smiling as he tipped his hat to her, "Please look me up if you ever come to Dodge, I have some friends I'd like you to meet."

"Goodbye Marshal and thank you for the invitation."

He gave her a parting smile as he headed out the door.

End

A/N: This story came about after i read "The Doctor Wore Petticoats" by Chris Enss. It told the story of female physicians of the old west and the struggles they had to face to get a medical education and then be accepted by society.