"Uppity Yankee." The whispered slur was muttered behind her as she strode down the street along the wooden boardwalk lining the store fronts.
"Too good for the likes of us, it seems."
Cordelia straightened her fashionable riding hat and peered over her shoulder at the two girls tittering behind her. They narrowed their eyes, unconcerned that their conversation had been overheard. Giving a ghost of a smile, Cordelia nodded her head. They were much younger, not worth the effort. None of them in that backwater town were as far as she was concerned. Besides, they were right. She was too good for the likes of them.
They had arrived on the banks of the Tug Fork a month prior after three long weeks of travel. Long gone were the classic red brick neighborhoods of her New England home. She was now lost among the ambling groves and wild mountains of a strange land. It was odd to think they were still in the same country.
Sweeping the bustle of her gray taffeta skirt to the side and lifting a gloved hand, she motioned the girls to walk past. She had one more errand to run while she was in town. Her father's practice was a street away and would soon be closing for the day. Then they would leave this sad excuse for a spot of civilization and return to their home on the outskirts of town.
The door to the Justice of the Peace's office scraped the worn floorboards. Wrinkling her nose at the stench of the drunk sleeping it off in a cell beside the town official's desk, she forced a smile. Judge Valentine Hatfield rose from his seat.
"Miss Robertson, how are you today?"
"I am well, thank you judge," Cordelia replied primly, as the man in the cell stirred and whistled at the sight of her. A man that drunk would whistle at anything in a skirt.
"Hush now or I'll have a mind to keep you in there till next Sunday," Judge Hatfield snapped. The man rolled over with a belch.
Stomach turning, Cordelia again attempted cordiality. "Judge Hatfield, I'm here for my father. It seems there is some confusion concerning his medical license within the state of Kentucky."
"Really? I thought he said he had gotten that cleared up already," Judge Hatfield replied as he peered through the papers on his desk.
Cordelia shifted awkwardly in her fine, high button boots. When the Judge had invited her and her father over for supper upon their arrival, the doctor had been clearheaded and charming. Hatfield had claimed they would be a fine addition to the community. He had yet to see her father after he shot himself up with his morphine fix. In such a state, Doctor Robertson's mind would slip and he'd forget to fulfill his obligations to make a living. It had been such an afternoon.
"I am not certain. I would be much obliged if you would look into it for us."
"Of course, of course. How is your father? Are you both adjusting well?" He ran a hand over his full, white beard. "I know this area isn't exactly what you were used to back east..."
"The scenery is just breathtaking." She couldn't think of anything better to say.
Hatfield's keen brown eyes studied her and Cordelia sniffed, glancing away. The shrewd lawman saw right through her. "Give yourself some time, Miss Robertson. This place can grow on you. A pretty girl like you will be sure to find a new life here in these hills."
Cordelia wanted to say that he sounded like her father but didn't. The words sounded just as empty coming from another man.
"Thank you for your help, judge. I will tell my father that we must have you over for dinner once we are more settled."
"I look forward to the invitation, Miss Robertson."
"You gonna extend that invitashun ta me-" the drunk crowed.
"Quiet." Judge Hatfield growled and Cordelia swore she saw the older man's cheeks shade pink.
The street was shadowed in the late afternoon, wagons rolling by in the mud with people heading home for supper. Soon she'd close the practice and pack her father into their cart. They had found a suitable housekeeper so dinner would be ready upon their arrival. Cordelia could only pray they wouldn't receive anymore patients for the day. Not with her father as incapacitated as she had left him.
Her mind spinning, clouding her judgment, she lifted her skirts and trotted across the road. If she had been paying attention she would have seen the cart. The driver called out a warning in the nick of time. She leaped backwards to avoid the hooves of two bay horses. The driver cut his wagon to the side. In the slick mud, the wheel slipped and ran into the raised sidewalk. The horses panicked. Between the force of the collision and the reins jerking his hands forward, the man flew over onto the boardwalk, cracking his forehead on the rough edge of a plank.
"Dear Jesus..." Cordelia muttered, picking her way in front of the nervous steeds and through the gathering folk around the man. "Is he hurt?"
"Damn it, woman! You could have put my other eye out!"
Cordelia blinked down at the man, her mouth dry from shock. Blood from a gash under his fair hairline was dripping down between his eyes. One of them was white and smooth as pearl. A man had never sworn in front of her before, much less at her.
"I apologize, I didn't see-"
The man threw off an onlooker trying to help him to his feet and shook out a black hat. "Cuz you weren't lookin'! A miracle you didn't upset the cart and kill someone. Who the hell do you think you are, parading across Main Street like the Queen of Sheba?"
The crowd responded with whispers and laughs. Cordelia reddened, her heart pounding. Would this town offer them nothing but humiliation?
"Sir, I am sorry." Her voice quaked as she spoke. "But you're hurt, my father's practice is only over here. We- we can have you stitched up-"
"So you maim me then steal my money for the healin'?"
Another round of laughter.
"No of course not."
Gingerly, he touched the cut. Peering down at the blood on his fingertips, he glared up at her. Under the hard stare from his strange eyes, Cordelia couldn't hold his look for long.
"I'll see to my horses first, Miss."
"Robertson."
"What?"
"It-its Robertson, Miss Robertson."
The man scoffed and brushed past her. "I wasn't asking."
