A Frontier Christmas (21 page)

“Is that better?” Sally asked after she finished spraying the acid mixture into Meagan's throat.

“Oh!” Meagan replied. “Oh, my, that hurts!”

“I'm sure it does, but it is necessary to keep your throat open, so you can breathe. I'm sorry to have to do it.”

Despite the pain, Meagan managed a smile. “Now I know what I was doing to all the people I treated.”

“You were keeping them alive.”

“Christmas,” Meagan said.

“What?”

“I had such plans for Christmas. Now, there won't be a Christmas.”

“Of course there will be a Christmas,” Sally said. “We may have to have it a little later, after everyone is cured, but I promise you, we will have a Christmas.”

“Sally, why don't you go to your hotel room and just stay there? Cora has the disease, I have it. There's no sense in you coming down with it, as well.”

“And what good would that do? I'm already exposed to it. What if I went to the hotel, caught the disease, and nobody knew about it? At least here, I'm already in the hospital.”

Meagan laughed. “Yes, I guess if you look at it that way, I'm lucky that I was here.”

“Absolutely,” Sally said, laughing with her.

“What in heaven's name are you two finding to laugh about?” Cora asked in a hoarse voice.

“
Joie de vivre
,” Sally said.

“What?”

“Joy of life,” Meagan translated.

“What we have left of it,” Cora said, then all three laughed at the black humor.

Everyone in town knew about the diphtheria in Rawhide Buttes, and they knew about the antitoxin that was being taken to Rawhide Buttes as fast as was humanly possible. The sheriff at Cheyenne had sent a telegram to Walt Merrill, asking him to have a fast team ready to attach to the buggy when it came through. The telegram had also provided an estimated time of arrival.

Because of that, nearly every citizen in Chugwater was out on the street to witness the arrival and departure of what was being called a “race for mercy.”

Duff and Marshal Craig were standing in front of Merrill's Livery about five minutes before the time the courier was expected.

“You're sure that's your best team, Walt?” Duff asked, looking at the two horses that Johnny and Abe, Walt's two assistants, had brought out front. “I've got a vested interest in this, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Walt asked.

“Meagan Parker is up in Rawhide Buttes,” Marshal Craig said.

“Oh, yes, well, I can see why you might be concerned. But you don't need to worry about this team. I doubt there's any faster horses anywhere in the entire state.” Walt walked over to the team already in harness to pat the perfectly matched pair on their necks. “You are goin' to do us proud, aren't you, boys?”

As if he could understand the question, one of the horses whickered and nodded his head.

“Here he comes!” someone shouted

Looking down South Chugwater Road, Duff saw a rooster tail of dust. Then the buggy appeared out of the dust, and he saw the driver leaning forward in the seat, urging his team into a gallop. Despite the cold weather, the team was lathered with sweat from their exertion. Duff was sure they hadn't been at full gallop since Little Bear, some ten miles south, but they were making an impression as they arrived.

“Heah! Heah!” the driver called, shouting partly for the entertainment of the gathered crowd. The calls certainly weren't needed to spur the team on.

“Johnny?” Walt Merrell called.

“Yes, sir?”

“Soon as we get his team disconnected, you take those horses for a cool-down walk, then rub 'em down good, you hear me? Make sure they have water and oats. They've earned it. Me 'n Abe will connect the new team.”

“Yes, sir,” the sixteen-year-old said.

“Whoa! Whoa!” the driver called as he applied the brakes, causing the back wheels of the buggy to slide until it came to a halt.

“Hurrah for you!” someone shouted to the driver.

“Deputy Crabtree, I'm Marshal Craig. Welcome to Chugwater.”

“You got the word to have a fresh team ready for me?” Crabtree asked.

“We've got them, and I'll have them connected within five minutes,” Walt said.

“Thanks,” Crabtree said. “I, uh . . .”

“The necessary is around back,” Walt said.

Hopping down, Crabtree hurried to the back of the barn. When he came back the team was connected.

“We have some coffee for you, Deputy,” Marshal Craig said. “Cream and sugar? Or black?”

“Black,” Crabtree said.

Marshal Craig smiled. “Spoken like a true lawman. I'll hand it to you when you're in your seat.”

“Thanks.” Crabtree climbed into the buggy, then reached for the cup.

“Clear the way!” Marshal Craig called to the others.

With a loud shout and the crack of a whip, the buggy left, going north on First Street, which at the end of town turned to Ty Basin Road.

Duff and the others watched until all that could be seen was the billowing cloud of dust that rose up behind the buggy. Then he walked back to Fiddlers' Green.

“Did you watch the courier drive off?” Biff asked as he poured a glass of scotch.

“Aye, that I did,” Duff said. “And 'tis hoping I am that the medicine does the job, for 'twould be a sad Christmas for those ailing, as well as their families.”

“And friends,” Biff added.

“Aye. And friends.”

“I wonder what time he'll get there.”

“The marshal says they expect him there by four o'clock this afternoon.”

“That'll be a fast trip,” Biff said.

Duff nodded. “Aye, but with fresh horses every ten miles, and keeping them at a rapid pace, he'll be going like lightning.”

With each passing hour, more people were brought in to the improvised hospital, filling all the pews in the nave and transept, and even laid out on the floor in the chancel area. The question on everyone's lips was, “When will the medicine get here?”

“We just got a telegraph report,” Marshal Worley said. “The medicine has passed through Chugwater, and it is a little ahead of schedule.”

“It will be good when it gets here,” Dr. Poindexter said, speaking quietly to those helping him. “But I'm afraid it will be too late for some.”

“Do what you can, Doctor,” Reverend Sharkey said. “Just do what you can.”

“I have two patients who are in extremis.” Dr. Poindexter pointed to the pew that had been set aside for the most severe.

One of the patients he was talking about was Marie Mason. Even though they had told her husband, Nick, that he was putting himself at risk by staying here with her, he refused to leave her side, and was sitting on the floor beside her, holding her hand. He hadn't moved in the four hours since he brought her to the church.

Dr. Poindexter went over to check on her, but as soon as he approached her, he realized that she was dead. Reaching down, he closed her eyes, which had glazed over with death.

With one hand, Mason was holding his wife's hand. His head was bowed, and his other hand covered his eyes. He had neither moved nor given any indication that he even knew Dr. Poindexter was standing beside him.

“Mr. Mason,” Dr. Poindexter said quietly.

“You don't have to tell me, Doc,” Mason replied without looking up. “I know that she is dead. I felt it the moment life left her body. It was as if her soul paused just long enough to tell me good-bye.”

“I'm sorry. I am so very sorry.”

“The medicine isn't here yet, is it?”

“No.”

“Even if it had arrived, it wouldn't have done Marie any good, would it?”

Dr. Poindexter shook his head. “I'm afraid not,” he admitted. “The disease worked very quickly.”

“Ask the pastor to stop by for a moment, would you?”

“Yes, of course.”

From her position on the opposite side of the church, Sally saw Dr. Poindexter talking to the pastor, then she saw Reverend Sharkey start toward the pew where the critically ill had been placed. She knew that meant one of the patients had died, but she withheld any comment. She didn't want to upset Meagan or Cora.

Another died early that afternoon. The victim was a young boy. Funerals were prohibited because of the quarantine, and there wouldn't have been a place to hold them anyway, as the church was being used for a hospital. But, as he had for Marie Mason, Reverend Sharkey said a prayer over the boy, then the deceased were taken from the church.

Every patient in the makeshift hospital saw the two bodies being removed, and though no one said anything, Sally couldn't help thinking that they were all wondering who would be next.

A wagon had been summoned from the undertaker, and it backed up to the front of the church. There were two open coffins in the back of the wagon and the bodies, without being embalmed, were put into the pine boxes, then the lids closed over them.

Tom Welch had hired half a dozen men to dig graves. At least ten were already open in anticipation of their use. The mourners were told to select any grave, and were given the choice of closing the graves themselves or leaving them open, in which case the gravediggers would close them.

Marie Nelson and the twelve-year-old boy were buried at approximately the same time, but in two different areas of the cemetery. Nick Mason was the only one at the burial of his wife Marie. Reverend Sharkey went there first to say a few words over the coffin that lay beside the six-foot-deep hole.

“We commit our sister Marie to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, looking for the general resurrection in the last day, and the life of the world to come through our Lord.”

“Thank you, Pastor,” Nick said.

Reverend Sharkey nodded, put his hand on Nick's shoulder for just a moment, then started across the cemetery to where the boy was to be buried.

“We had a long time together, Marie. Fifty-three years,” Nick said, speaking quietly after the parson left. “Our only child, Hazel, died when she was two years old, and we never were able to have any more. You've missed her for fifty years, but I reckon you're holdin' her in your arms now. If you don't mind, I'll be speakin' to you ever' night in my prayers. I reckon you'll be able to hear me. In the meantime, ole' girl, just find you someplace comfortable so you can sit and wait for me. I'll be there soon as I can.”

Nick couldn't leave the coffin, a plain pine box, lying by the grave to be buried later. He couldn't just leave her lying out like that, so he tied ropes around each end of the coffin, then let it down into the grave himself. After withdrawing the ropes, he started shoveling dirt into the hole. It was as if the sound of the dirt falling on the coffin drove nails into his heart. He couldn't stop the tears from running down his face.

Unlike Nick Mason's lonely vigil over his wife's grave, a few more people stood at the boy's interment—his parents and two sisters. The grandparents, who also lived in Rawhide Buttes, wanted to come, but the family had talked them out of it.

“You're older,” Red Lattimore had said to his mother and father. “It just makes sense that if you're older, you're more likely to catch the disease. Even if you don't catch the diphtheria, it can't be good for you to be standin' out in the cold. We'll take care of buryin' Leonard our ownselves.”

Reverend Sharkey spoke the same words over the boy's coffin that he had said over Marie Mason. Then he stood by as the family lowered young Leonard into his eternal resting place.

Crabtree changed horses at Blue Elder Ranch, and with a fresh team, started out on his next leg. He had gone about five miles when he saw a barricade of tree limbs lying across the road in front of him.

“Whoa! Whoa!” he called, pulling the team to a stop.

The horses had been running at a very rapid clip, and were made uncomfortable by the stop. They whickered and twitched as Crabtree sat, looking at the barricade.

At first, he thought the blockage was caused by accident, but as he studied it more closely, he noticed the ax cuts, and realized the tree had been chopped down. He also saw the track in the sand indicating it had been dragged from where it was cut and purposely laid across the road. He got down from the buggy, then stepped up to examine the roadblock.

“Who would do something like this, and why?” he asked aloud.

“We did it.” Two men appeared from behind a boulder. Both were carrying pistols. “Because we wanted to stop you.

“Why would you do such a fool thing?” Crabtree asked. “What do you want to stop me for? I'm not carrying any money.”

“Oh, yes, you are. You're carryin' twenty thousand dollars.”

“What? You're crazy! What do you mean I'm carrying twenty thousand dollars? Why, I don't have but five dollars! If you want five dollars to drag this tree out of my way, it's yours.” Crabtree reached into his pocket for the five-dollar bill.

“Keep your money,” one of the men said. “We don't want it.”

“Well then, what do you want?”

“You're carryin' some medicine, ain't you? Some medicine for Rawhide Buttes?”

“Yes, I am.”

“That's what we want.”

“Are you crazy? There's folks that are dependin' on that medicine. Now, I'm goin' to ask you to move that out of the way so I can get on with it. Don't you understand? There's folks goin' to die if they don't get this medicine.”

The man laughed. “What do you think about that, Jesse? There's folks in Rawhide Buttes who are goin' to die if they don't get this here medicine.”

“Well then, we'd better get it to them, don't you think, T. Bob?” Jesse replied. He reached into the buggy and picked up the bag that contained the medicine. “After they pay us.”

“After they pay you?” Crabtree said. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, after they pay you?”

“I mean you're goin' to leave the medicine with us, then you're goin' to keep on with your trip. And when you get to Rawhide Buttes, you tell the good folks there that if they want this medicine, they're goin' to have to pay for it.”

“Pay how much?”

“Like I said, twenty thousand dollars.”

“You're crazy. This medicine already belongs to them. They ain't goin' to pay you twenty thousand dollars. They can't. Rawhide Buttes is a small town. How are they goin' to come up with that much money?”

“I reckon they'll find a way, if they don't want all those folks dyin',” Jesse said. “Now, get on with you.”

Crabtree didn't move, and Jesse pulled the hammer back on his pistol. “Get on with it, or I'll shoot you dead right here, and find some other way to get the message to 'em.”

Crabtree glared at him for a moment. “I can't go nowhere till that tree limb is moved out of the road.”

Jesse eased the hammer down on his pistol, then smiled. “Get it pulled out of the way, T. Bob.”

The outlaw stepped around behind the boulder, then reappeared a moment later, mounted on a horse. One end of a rope was looped around the saddle horn, the other end tied to the tree limb. The horse pulled it out of the way.

“Now get!” Jesse said

Crabtree climbed into the buggy and snapped the whip over the team, starting them out at a gallop.