Bridget (The Bridget Series) (10 page)

Miss Savannah Katherine
Chadwick was in a
get even
mood. In her target site was one Bridget Hansen. Never mind that Bridget had been nowhere near either Savannah Katherine or her box social meat pot pie, Savannah Katherine just
knew
that Bridget must have been responsible for that embarrassing food incident. Now the impertinent working girl typewriter was wearing a necklace given to her by Dr. Sullivan and acting like she belonged. Savannah Katherine was having none of it.

That Friday afternoon Savannah Katherine walked into Dr. Sullivan’s office with the attitude of a general who was about to stage a conquering takeover.

“I need to see Dr. David,” she announced, feigning a cough.

““He’s not here right now. Would you like to make an appointment,” answered Bridget, her words clipped and professional, even though she couldn’t help but notice how Miss Chadwick referred to Dr. Sullivan as ‘Dr. David’.

“When will he be back? I have this cough and my chest hurts. I need him to check my chest.”

“If you think you’re coming down with something contagious, then you should go right to the hospital.”

“I’m not contagious,” snapped Savannah Katherine. Then, as a mountain lion sizes up its prey, Savannah Katherine stared at Bridget’s necklace. “I heard that Dr. David gave you a token gift. Isn’t that sweet of him. What a cute little trinket. I think I heard him say he bought it for you to thank you for your work. My Daddy says you must always remember the help. I was told Dr. David bought it second hand at the church bazaar. He must not have paid very much for it.”

Suddenly Bridget felt precarious.

“I understand those other two typewriters got married. How wonderful for them. Of course, you can’t expect the same for yourself, I’m sure you know that. Not considering your background. After all, no man with any self respect would marry a woman who came from the Orphan Train. Didn’t you live on the streets, eating from garbage cans, begging and stealing? Didn’t you even sell
rags?
Such a hard life. You have to understand that no man of any breeding is going to want you. It would be so much easier for you if you just learned to keep your place. Considering where you came from, you must be proud that you have become a typewriter.” Savannah Katherine’s tone was insulting, patronizing, and sneaky.

Bridget was left speechless, but she could feel her body sink into despair.

Savannah Katherine smirked as she said, “Tell Dr. David I was in and I’m concerned I’m getting a cold. Perhaps he could make a house call and come over and listen to my chest.”

Then she disappeared into the blur of horse dust, crossing the street in a victory walk.

Bridget felt her world fall apart. She wanted to run. To get away. Savannah Katherine was right. No respectable man would ever want her. Certainly not a doctor, nor his influential Boston family.

It was beyond humiliation.

Fortunately, neither Dr. Schmidt nor Dr. Sullivan returned to the office that afternoon. She didn’t know how she could ever again face Dr. Sullivan. They knew. How did they know? Why didn’t they tell her they knew?

She locked up and quickly walked home.

“What happened, dear?” asked Mrs. Schmidt instantly noticing that Bridget was not only distraught, but seemed to have been crying.

Bridget’s tone was straight forward confronting: “Do you know my background?”

Mrs. Schmidt saw Bridget’s anguished expression and swollen eyes. Gently she took her hand and led her to a chair. “Do you mean that you were adopted from the Orphan Train?”

“Yes. Why didn’t you tell me you knew? Who told you?”

“I didn’t mention it because it doesn’t matter.”

“How long have you known?”

“I guess since before you came. When you applied to test for the scholarship the school sent your records. Your school records show that the Hansens adopted you from the Orphan Train.”

“Probably the whole town knows.” Mrs. Schmidt was matter-of-fact as she sat down opposite Bridget. “There was a town meeting to decide how many girls to sponsor and which girls should be permitted to test for the scholarships. Your grades were excellent. You received wonderful letters of recommendation from your teacher and your town’s minister. That’s all that mattered to any of us.”

“Miss Chadwick came in.”

“Say no more,” interrupted Mrs. Schmidt. “Her father probably told her because he was at the meeting. These young ladies aren’t always nice. There’s always going to be people who want to ruin your happiness. It’s hard not to let them tear you down. They are putting you down because they can’t pull themselves up. That doesn’t mean you can change them,” Mrs. Schmidt cautioned. “That doesn’t mean they won’t bother you. It just means that you have to be so involved in your own life that they don’t matter to you.”

“That’s hard,” was Bridget’s anguished reply.

“I know, but if they make you that unhappy then you need to think about what you really want. Dr. Sullivan isn’t going anywhere and neither are Savannah Katherine, Eliza, Sally, or any of the others. He needs to find his own heart. Yes, every girl in town is going to view him as the most eligible catch. You can’t blame them. You see him that way, too.”

Bridget’s hurt engulfed the room. “They want to marry him so they can be a doctor’s wife. I want to marry him because I want to be
his
wife.”

“Nobody can tell you what to do,” said Mrs. Schmidt. “Just know that we want you here. You are part of this community. But, most of all we want you happy. I understand when there’s a man involved, it’s even harder. I don’t know what’s in his heart. You have to face the fact that he could end up with somebody else, not you, not Miss Chatwick, but somebody else. He could wed another and you’d still have to see him day in and day out. Is that going to make you miserable? Only you can decide.”

“If it was somebody from far away, like Boston, it would be easier, I guess. But, not Savannah Katherine.” Bridget made a face just saying her name, as though somebody had put vinegar on her tongue.

“Have you talked to Dr. Sullivan about the way you feel? Did you tell him what Miss Chadwick told you?”

Bridge shook her head. “No, I haven’t seen him. Besides, I couldn’t do anything like that.”

“Well, dear,” Mrs. Schmidt said patting Bridget’s hands, “if this is the first anybody has mentioned this to you, then that ought to tell you that nobody here cares if you came from an Orphan Train or from a cabbage patch. Miss Chadwick has just found a way to upset you. If she knows she has the power to upset you, she’ll just keep at it.

“But, I do know that right now Dr. Schmidt has a big project for you which might take your mind off of this. It even means that you can spend a week with your parents.”

As the front door opened, Dr. Schmidt’s distinctive footsteps announced that he was home. “I’ll let Dr. Schmidt explain it to you.”

Bridget tried to quickly wipe her eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the tears.

“I’m glad you’re here, Bridget,” said Dr. Schmidt as he joined her at the table. “Did you get something in your eyes?”

“No, sir. I’m fine.”

“Good, because I need you to help. Doc Patterson from your home town has a problem. All of the supplies he ordered were stolen when the stagecoach got robbed last week. And, those fellers using dynamite are now working closer to your town, so he needs to be prepared for accidents. Not that he’s going to be able to do much. Just bury the dead and try to bandage up the lucky ones who still have breathe in ‘em.

“I’ve fixed up some boxes of supplies for him. What we need you to do is take the boxes to him. Then you unpack the boxes, and get everything placed properly, just like I have in my office. You’ll need to write down exactly what is in the boxes and how much, so Doc Patterson can keep track of what he uses and on which patient.”

Doc Patterson was the town blacksmith, veterinarian and local doctor working on both animals and people. Bridget had never been sure if he was a real doctor, or had just picked up some knowledge as he went along. He seemed to know a lot, and far as she could tell, he never caused anybody any harm.

“Especially those elixirs,” continued Dr. Schmidt. “I wrote him a letter warning him about those elixirs. Some of the women here are taking just too much of that stuff. I think they end up plum forgetting what ailed them in the first place. They just know they need that elixir no matter what. Why, Mrs. Stutz let her dinner burn because she thought she could run down to the druggist for some more and get back home in time.”

Bridget had also wondered about the popularity of those tonics. The men seemed to go for whiskey while the women were a steady stream into the druggist, getting their daily dose.

“We’re going to pay your round trip train fare. Since the trains don’t run Monday through Thursday, you’re going to have to leave first thing in the morning. Then you can come back on the week from Sunday morning train.

“I’m sure you’ll be glad to see your folks. This will give you a little more than a week to spend with them, and to get Doc Patterson’s office looking like a doctor’s office. Maybe someday your town will get big enough to need a real doctor, but right now Doc Patterson is going to have to do.”

“I’ll drive you to the train.” Bridget’s hand automatically reached up to touch the necklace Dr. Sullivan had given her. “David has his hands full at the hospital. Four cowboys with more whiskey in them than sense got into a gun fight and all of them took a bunch of bullets. Two are probably going to die. David is going to be picking bullets out of the other two for the rest of the night.”

He sighed as he accepted a cup of coffee that his wife handed him. “I don’t know if they were fighting over a woman, a horse or some gold. Or, if they even know what triggered it, but they wasted a lot of good bullets.”

“You need to get a few things packed, and try to get some sleep. We’ll need to leave early in the morning. I already took the boxes for Doc Patterson down to the station. I also sent him a telegram that you’re coming, so he’ll be at the station to meet you.”

“Don’t forget the bonnet you bought for your mother,” added Mrs. Schmidt as she noticed her husband quietly motioning for her to follow him into the other room.

Bridget got up, went to her room and got ready to go home.

“I heard all about it,” he whispered in his wife’s ear. “That Chatwick girl just can’t keep her mouth shut.”

“She’s too sweet on herself, that Chadwick girl,” Mrs. Schmidt whispered back. “It will do Bridget good to see her folks.”

“Yeah, and Doc needs those supplies.”

Bridget didn’t remember
packing last night, although she assumed she must have put something in the carpet bag she was carrying. “Here, dear, remember your mother’s bonnet,” said Mrs. Schmidt handing the box to Bridget. “You didn’t eat a speck for breakfast, so you take this sandwich with you.”

“Thank you.” Bridget tried to manage a smile, but it was tight and strained.

As Dr. Schmidt guided his buggy to a stop and helped Bridget down, he pulled a fat letter from his pocket. “I’ve written a note for Doc which is very important for him to open and read. Make sure you give it to him.”

Bridget took the letter and put it with her sandwich. “I will. And, thank you. Thank your wife for me.”

“We’ll see you in a week.”

Bridget wasn’t so sure.

T
HE train couldn’t move fast
enough to suit Bridget. One of the women passengers was claiming to feel faint, brought on by the experience of traveling so fast. Bridget was sure she was just trying to catch the attention of the man seated across from her.

Bridget just wanted to get home. For the first time since the Orphan Train had left her there, the tiny town that had accepted her felt like home.

She stroked the hat box lid. She hoped her mother would like the hat.

Then her thoughts returned to the problem. How would she tell her mother and Pa that she couldn’t return to Canyonville. What kind of work could she find? Where else could she go? Cripple Creek was about 15 miles in the other direction. She’d never been there and didn’t know if they needed a lady typewriter. But then she would have to find a place to stay and pay room and board. It all looked pretty hopeless.