Flame Series #18: Physician Heal Thy Self
CHAPTER 9
Galen's Miracle Headache Powder
Calleigh was staring absently out the front window of the Prairie Rose, while she listened to Tia expressing her gratitude that Bethany was home. "I was so glad to let her have that job back! She always made it look so easy. Just like you mother does." Tia saw the perplexed expression flitter across the redhead's face. "What are you looking at?"
"I'm not sure. I thought I saw Kitty, but…" Calleigh stretched up on her toes for a better look. Curiosity pulled Tia away from the counter to stand beside her friend.
"You did. Look…she's…skipping. What's wrong with her?" Tia felt, more than saw, Calleigh brush past her in a rush toward the front door.
Quickly sliding her arm around her mother's waist, Calleigh steered Kitty into the Prairie Rose. Tia held the door, her cool green eyes scanning up and down Front Street for curious onlookers. Luck was with them, as the street was empty and there were only a couple of patrons left over from the lunch crowd. Both of the young women quietly ushered the unsteady redhead to the back of the restaurant, out of sight.
Tia shut the office door behind her. "Calleigh? What's wrong with her? She was in here earlier and she was just fine."
"She didn't have a drink with lunch, did she?"
"No. As a matter of fact, she barely touched her lunch. When I asked her about it, she just brushed it off and said she had a headache."
The marshal's wife settled into the swivel desk chair with Calleigh's help. "Kitty, did you drink something?" The older redhead seemed more preoccupied with the twirling of the chair, than answering questions. It not only amused her, it brought on a rash of giggling. "Kitty, look at me." Calleigh leaned over, trying to get a better look at her patient.
"Tia, I need you to go get Matt and I need my bag. I left it under the counter when I came in." Calleigh turned her attention back to the oversized child playing on the squeaky desk chair. Kitty only added to her amusement, with an occasional 'wheeeee' thrown in for good measure.
The nervous blonde brought back the medical bag, before she left to get Matt. Calleigh was trying to check Kitty's vitals, but the woman was definitely not cooperating. The young doctor managed to get a reading on her mother's heart rate, but using the thermometer proved to be more of a challenge. "Kitty, stop… biting the…" Calleigh grunted, as she freed the slender glass tube, "…the thermometer."
"How does this work?" Kitty snatched the stethoscope from the leather bag and began twisting the long black tubing between her fingers. "Let me hear your heart."
Calleigh swatted Kitty's hand away, as she tried to retrieve the equipment. "Kitty, sto...stop…don't…" The bit of discipline the young physician delivered was not harsh enough to have inflicted pain. Despite that fact, her patient's bottom lip puckered out, reminiscent of the tiniest Dillon girl.
So this is what it was like for Matt, Calleigh thought. Just like her dad, she was unable to deny the pleading eyes. "Okay." Suddenly the tears were gone and the giggling returned. Calleigh straightened up the ear tips and placed the diaphragm to her own heart. "Can you hear it?"
Much to the young woman's surprise, the tears returned once again. But, this time, for a different reason. "Ahhh, is that your heart? It's so sweet." Kitty leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her daughter's waist. "Your heart is beautiful. I love that heart."
The room had become still, as Calleigh rested patiently in her mother's embrace. It was Matt Dillon's commanding tone that shattered the silence. With a voice, a decibel too deep and too loud, he called her name. "Kitty!"
All he had to hear from the nervous, young waitress, was that something was wrong with his wife and he tore from the jail—only to burst into the back office of the restaurant. "What's wrong? Why is she crying? Kitty, why are you crying?"
"Matt, just hold on a minute..." Calleigh made an attempt to answer, but she was too slow. He had already taken those few steps to Kitty's side and had pulled her to her feet. The tears stopped and the giggling returned.
"Marshal Dillon!" Kitty threw her arms around Matt. "Did you come to rescue me?" He was suddenly being assaulted by a pair of soft, supple lips. Cool, fluttering kisses were dropping like snowflakes, all over his face.
Now it was Matt that faced his daughter with eyes that were slightly dazed. "What?" He pulled Kitty back enough to see her face. "Kitty…honey, are you…drunk?"
She threw her head back, causing him to grab her tighter to keep her from falling. "Silly marshal! Of course I'm not drunk. But I will tell you what I am?" Kitty pressed her body against his. She stood up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear.
Neither Calleigh, nor Tia, could hear what was said, but by the flush of scarlet that scorched Matt's face, they figured it was of a personal nature. A very, very personal nature.
Matt squeezed down a lump that had formed in his throat. "Honey, we…uh…we…need to-"
Again, Kitty weaved her arms around his neck, pulling herself up against him. No more talking; she had other uses for his lips. At first, his hands moved to try and calm her, but…she was touching parts that responded, just as God had intended them to. "No…Kitty…no, don't do that."
Calleigh shared an unusual look with Tia, that neither could define. Then, she cleared her throat, to remind Matt that he had an audience. "She's taken something, but it doesn't seem to have an adverse effect-" Kitty was giggling again, babbling something about her wild cowboy, causing Calleigh to rephrase her diagnosis. "I mean, no adverse physical effects. Her vitals are fine. Heart beat a little rapid. From the size of those pupils, I would say that she's been drugged."
Matt was struggling now, to keep Kitty's hands and lips under control. "Well, she can't ride M'Lady like this!" Again, he was forced to deal with the redheaded nymph. "Ooh, Kitty honey, stop. Go get a buggy from Moss and I'll take her home."
"I'll go." Tia was quick to volunteer, to get away from this bizarre happening. "I'll just get Nettie to watch the restaurant." She slipped out, just as Kitty was pulling the marshal's lips back down to hers.
"Calleigh…can you…" Matt felt like he was wrestling with an octopus. "Can you…ooh…Oh Kitty..." Small delicate hands were grabbing and groping faster than he could contain them. "Calleigh! Do something!"
"Matt, there's nothing I can do. It's just going to have to wear off." Kitty was displaying signs of sexual aggression and a complete lack of inhibition. Obviously, it was not a depressant. "Take her home, see if you can get her into a cold bath. Don't let her have any coffee. Don't give her anything, until we find out what she took. Where's her reticule? Maybe there's something in there that will give us a clue."
Calleigh spotted the off-white, silk and chenille bag, lying on the desk. She stretched the drawstring out and dumped the contents onto the wooden surface. Her attention was diverted, when Matt let out a girlie squeal that was about four octaves too high for the marshal of Dodge City.
"Honey, pleeease…just...Kitty, no – no baby." The squeal erupted again and he looked to his daughter for help. "Can she hurt herself?" Matt still didn't have a grasp of his wife's condition.
Calleigh offered a snide grin, as she continued to search the contents. "I'm more worried about you." A small tin with headache powder caught the young physician's attention. She touched the end of her finger in the white residue and then to the tip of her tongue. Brows furrowed and a scowl captured her face.
Tia slipped in the back door of the restaurant. It was obvious that the situation had not been resolved. "I have a buggy out back. There's no one around to see her, if you want to leave now."
Now, was exactly when he wanted to leave. Matt swept his wife up into his arms. Something about the sudden movement must have amused Kitty, as she fell back in a fit of laughter. He quickly thanked the two young ladies, as he struggled to carry the spirited woman to the buggy.
Calleigh and Tia stood, in amazement, as the buggy disappeared down the alley toward the edge of town. "Will she be all right?"
The redhead uttered a snorting laugh. "Will he?" she mumbled. "I'm going to see Poppy. We need to find out what was in that headache powder."
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It was just a stroke of luck that Darcy Cannon was coming out of the mercantile, when Kitty Dillon was headed toward the Prairie Rose. It didn't take a physician to see that the woman was in some sort of distress. She was practically skipping like a schoolgirl, when her daughter rushed out to get her. As quickly and discreetly as possible, the younger redhead, along with one of the waitresses from the restaurant, hustled the Dillon woman inside. He supposed her actions could have been mistaken for being drunk, but Darcy was pretty sure he knew the real cause.
When he had switched the medicine bottles, he had no idea that he would actually get to see the fruits of his labor. This was perfect. Not only would he be discrediting the esteemed doctor, but he would be humiliating the marshal and his wife as well. Just one more nail in the proverbial coffin.
If giddiness were ever to be attributed to a robust young man, Darcy Cannon was certainly a prime candidate. He stepped back into the doorway of the store, hoping that someone—other than himself—would witness the spectacle. But, before he could call Mr. Jonas to the front, the two women had whisked Kitty Dillon out of sight.
Darcy climbed into the buggy he had rented from Moss Grimmick. The grey mare moved forward as he snapped the reins. Suddenly, he found himself thinking about his wife—something he rarely did. Granted, Phoebe had always smoothed out his little mistakes, but this time was different. She wasn't just handing out money, she was actually trying to help him extract revenge.
For the first time, Darcy felt that his wife was beginning to understand him. It was affecting him in a way he had never experienced before. It was almost like an aphrodisiac.
The brilliant young physician offered his face up to the warmth of the sun. He deserved to be happy. People never understood him. His thoughts wandered back to his tragic childhood. Even before his father's death, Darcy had experienced loss.
When he was eleven, he had taken his younger brother fishing. Darcy had sat back, watching the frail little boy throwing pebbles into the water, from the edge of the bank. It was going to take money to pay for the multiple surgeries Robbie needed. That would be a waste, Darcy thought. The wretched little cripple is probably going to die anyway. I need that money for medical school. A pleasurable pout emerged, as the answer became clear. The choice suddenly seemed so simple to Darcy, as he walked up behind the child.
With his mother, it was easier. MayLee was completely inconsolable over the loss of Robbie, her baby boy. Crying replaced everything, including sleeping and eating. Darcy felt obligated to help her. When exhaustion finally claimed her, he threw a rope over the rafter and gently slipped it over his mother's head. His pa had taught him how to set up a pulley the summer before, when they were hoisting up bales of hay. With one mighty tug, the sleeping woman came up out of the bed. The young boy watched, as his mother struggled for breath—their eyes trapped in each other's gaze—as she clawed at her throat, unable to scream or to plead for her life. Finally, the frail, tired body hung limp. For a long while, the boy sat on the edge of the bed, watching her gently sway back and forth, at peace.
Darcy settled back in the seat with a sad smile. MayLee was lucky to have a son who loved her enough to stop the pain. So were those people in Boston and Richmond. His smile faded, as the smooth skin of his brow wrinkled with frustration. Why didn't they understand? He had the calling. The gift. It was his duty to help those people!
In the meantime, he still had a job to do. Darcy pulled back on the reins of the mare and climbed out of the buggy. He casually eyed the crimson and yellow rose bushes by the front steps, as he stood on the porch. After a couple of raps on the front door, he could hear her shuffling footsteps coming closer. There was a faint creak in the bottom hinge as it swung back.
Wearing her usual smile, a surprised Gert Prosper opened the door. "Why, it's the young doctor. What on earth are you doing here?"
"I came as a favor to Doc Adams." Darcy reached into his pocket, as he continued to explain. "He gave you the wrong heart medicine by mistake and asked me to bring this to you. He said to tell you how sorry he was. "
"Lands a Goshen, we all make mistakes." Gert reached out for the tiny bottle. "Well, aren't you sweet to come all this way. Come in, I'll fix you some tea."
"That would be nice. It's such a hot day."
Gert's steps were slow, as she led him into the kitchen. "Did anyone ever tell you that your eyes shine like gold?"
TBC
