Page 6 of Tempest


  Vowing to make sure she had the best future he could give her going forward, he stood. “Good night, Anna.”

  “Good night, Papa. And thank you for getting me a new mama.”

  Emotion clogged his throat. “You’re welcome, honey. Sleep well.”

  “You too.”

  Chapter Five

  Regan awakened the morning of her wedding day to the tangy smell of what she thought was bacon frying. Getting up, she dressed and went to find Spring, but there was nothing cooking in the kitchen and her hostess was nowhere to be seen. Stepping outside where the tantalizing smell seemed stronger, she followed it to the back of the barn where she found Spring tending a huge hog roasting on a spit.

  “Morning, Regan.”

  “Morning. Nice hog you have there.”

  “Slaughtered him after you went to bed last night. Getting him ready for your wedding dinner.”

  That left Regan slightly baffled. “I appreciate the gesture but that’s more meat than your brother and niece and I can eat in a month.”

  “Then it’s a good thing other folks are coming over to help.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I took it upon myself to make this wedding the celebration you deserve. Knowing Colton, he’ll say his vows and two minutes later head to his study to pore over the latest medical journal. That’s his idea of fun.”

  “How many people are coming?”

  “Not sure but folks around here jump at any chance to get together. Lacy’s heading up the rest of the food.”

  “Lacy?”

  “Lacy Miller. She’s a little White lady, runs the general store with her husband, Chauncey. She’s rounding up all the women willing to cook on such short notice, and she’s promised a cake.”

  Regan was stunned. “Have you talked to your brother about this?”

  “Of course not.” She turned the spit so the hog roasted evenly. “He’d never agree, but I wanted you to be able to smile when you looked back on your wedding day. We’ll have a few fiddlers, toss some horseshoes, eat, drink, raise some toasts, and have a good time.”

  Regan didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t imagine Dr. Lee’s reaction to his sister turning what had originally been a short quiet parlor ceremony into what sounded like a full-blown hullabaloo. “Be sure to tell him you did this without consulting me.”

  “Will do. Now, go open your trunks and find a gown to get married in that will send Colleen Enright screaming to the Klondike.”

  That made Regan smile. She’d been missing her sister, Portia, so much, but now it appeared as if she might have gained an additional one. “Spring?”

  She looked up from her basting. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  Smiling, she tossed back a wink. “You’re welcome.”

  Colt needed to conduct house calls before the wedding so after getting dressed, he paused for a moment in front of his wardrobe mirror. In his denims, boots, and black flannel shirt, he resembled a rancher rather than a physician, but he didn’t mind. The back East members of his profession could keep their fancy suits, vests, and pocket watches. He hadn’t studied from dawn to dusk and swept floors at the local hospital to pay for his classes just to appear prosperous. All he wanted in life was to help people heal. That he hadn’t been able to save his mother from her cancer or Adele from the complications of childbirth continued to haunt him, but he remained dedicated to his calling and proud to have attended Howard Medical School.

  The school, founded in 1867 and named for Civil War General Oliver Otis Howard, changed his life. He began his medical studies there in 1870, and for a mountain boy who’d never been farther east than Cheyenne, the nation’s capital city of Washington, with its clanging horse-drawn trolleys and thousands of people had been daunting. He’d never been anywhere so noisy or where everyone seemed to be in such a hurry. It was also his first time seeing so many members of the race doing everything from riding the trolleys to working in storefront establishments to owning fine hotels and restaurants.

  But the most life-changing event took place in his anatomy class. It was taught by Dr. Alexander T. Augusta, the first Colored man to be commissioned a major in the Union Army and the first man of the race to teach at a U.S. medical school. The first day of class, Colt was so busy staring with awe and pride, he forgot to take notes. He’d known men like him existed but he’d never seen a doctor of color before. Learning from him, being encouraged by him, and later training under him at Washington’s Freedmen’s Hospital reaffirmed his belief that medicine was indeed his calling.

  Now, he was to be a husband to a woman so unconventional, she sometimes took his breath away. Had she really branded cattle? He’d done it, of course, but other than his sister, Spring, he knew few women able to accomplish such a task without succumbing to a fit of the vapors.

  “Interesting times ahead,” he said to his reflection. “Interesting times.”

  Downstairs he found Anna standing at the big dining room window looking out.

  “Morning, Anna.”

  “Morning, Papa.”

  “What’s going on out there?”

  “Granpa Ben and his friends are scything the grasses in the field.”

  Curious, Colt walked to her side. Sure enough, his grandfather along with cronies Odell Waters, Manx Solomon, and Porter James were swinging their blades through the overgrowth.

  Anna said, “They’re getting ready for the wedding.”

  “Miss Carmichael and I are getting married in the parlor, honey.”

  “I think the field is where all the food and eating’s going to be.”

  Colt stilled. “Why do you think that?”

  “When Granpa Ben was fixing my breakfast, he was grumbling about Aunt Spring, busybodies, a pig, and cake. Is that what you eat at a wedding? Pig and cake?”

  Colt was outdone for a few moments. “I’m not sure. Let me go talk with Granpa Ben and see if I can get some answers.”

  He headed for the door.

  “What do you mean half the town’s coming?” he asked Ben impatiently.

  His grandfather wiped the sweat from his brow on the sleeve of his shirt. “Your sister’s doing. Rode over before dawn, told me what she planned to do, and rode off towards town.”

  “But I don’t want all this,” he said, indicating the cleared field.

  Ben shrugged. “Too late. Spring thinks you and the Carmichael woman need to go all out, and you know how she is once she sets her mind on something.”

  Colt blew out an exasperated breath. “This was supposed to be a small family gathering in the parlor.”

  “Tell that to your sister. More than likely that woman you’re so set on marrying wanted something more highfalutin. Told you she’d be trouble.”

  Colt wondered if Regan and Spring were coconspirators, but realized it didn’t matter. The horse was out of the barn and galloping across the county. In fact, he looked up to see a couple of wagons turning onto the property. One, driven by Lacy Miller, had its bed filled with chairs, trestle tables, and Lord knew what else. “I have house calls to make.”

  “You eat breakfast?”

  “Not hungry. Anna’s staying home from school today.”

  “Why?”

  “She and Spring are standing up with Regan at the wedding.”

  His grandfather grumbled something unintelligible. “Okay. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  “And I’d like for you to stand up with me.”

  “Why can’t Whit do it?”

  “Because he’s conducting the ceremony.”

  “Oh all right.”

  Buoyed by his grandfather’s enthusiasm, Colt went to the barn and saddled his horse. His injured shoulder was still tight and sore but felt better than it had the day before. Thankful for that at least, he rode away.

  His first stop was to check in on nine-year-old Silas Taylor. A week ago, the boy and his black-and-white bull terrier, Lucky, had a run-in with an old male cougar the locals had named One E
ye because the cat only had one. Due to its advanced age and limited vision, the cougar probably saw the boy as an easy meal, but didn’t take into account the fearless Lucky coming to his master’s aid. The dog eventually ran the cat off, but not before he and the boy were slashed a few times by its claws. Ben and his friends were planning a hunt to put the big cat down before it attacked again.

  “How’s he doing?” Colt asked the boy’s mother, Geneva, as she ushered him inside.

  “The skin around the cuts is still a bit stiff and itches, he says, but the skin’s healing.”

  “Mind if I take a look?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “How’s Lucky?”

  “Eating all the rabbits my William can bring home as his reward. If it hadn’t been for that dog . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  Colt agreed. Lucky saved Silas’s life.

  The red-haired, nine-year-old Silas was lying in bed. When Colt entered, his small freckled face broke into a grin. “Hi, Dr. Lee.”

  “Hi, Silas.” Lucky was lying on a large pillow inside of a wooden crate. “How are you and your brave dog?”

  “We’re fine. Aren’t we, Lucky?”

  The dog barked and Colt chuckled. “Is it okay if I check your cuts?”

  “Sure.”

  His mother, standing in the doorway, said, “There’s a basin of warm water there for you. I know you like to keep your hands clean.”

  “Thank you.” Colt was a follower of British surgeon Dr. Joseph Lister who touted the benefits of cleanliness and the use of carbolic acid in stopping the spread of infections and disease. With his hands clean, Colt gently freed the bandages covering the three long gashes One Eye had given the boy on the left side of his rib cage. The wounds were still red and angry in appearance, but were no longer draining, which was a good sign. The stitches Colt used to close the deepest cut seemed to be doing well, too. “Are you eating okay?” Colt placed a hand on the boy’s brow to check for fever.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Keeping your hands clean, and away from your cuts?”

  “Yes, sir. They itch like the dickens though.”

  Colt withdrew his stethoscope from his bag and checked his breathing. “Means they’re healing.” His breathing sounded fine. “I’m going to put some fresh bandages on them, and in another couple of days, we’ll see where we go from there.” Colt removed a roll of gauze and some cotton pads from his bag.

  “Can you check Lucky, too?” Silas asked.

  “Sure will. Let me get you fixed up first.”

  As promised, once he was done with Silas, Colt checked on the terrier. Colt also acted as the local veterinarian because there wasn’t one in the immediate area. He checked the short line of stitches he’d placed in the dog’s belly. The terrier had lived up to his name because he could’ve been disemboweled.

  Pleased that Silas and Lucky were mending well, he offered them his good-byes and Mrs. Taylor walked him to the front door. “So sorry I’m going to miss the wedding,” she said. “I hear your bride’s a beauty, and quite the firecracker. How’s your shoulder?”

  Colt wondered if there was anyone in the Territory who didn’t know his business. “My shoulder’s fine, thank you for asking.”

  “My William and I are looking forward to meeting her.”

  Colt responded with what he hoped passed for a genuine smile and rode off to see his next patient.

  Men and women were swarming over the Lee property like ants when Spring and Regan arrived. Tents were being set up, the air was fragrant with the smells of roasting meat and food, and she could hear laughter as folks went about the preparations.

  “Let’s get you inside. No one’s supposed to see the bride before the event.”

  “Spring—”

  “You’re the closest I’m ever coming to being a bride, so humor me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Carrying the gown she planned to be married in, she followed Spring without a further word.

  Inside the house, she was led to a room in the back. “This used to be Adele’s room.”

  The small space held a bed, a wardrobe, and a mirrored vanity table. It was about the size of Regan’s closet back home and the reality that she was getting married without her loving family by her side instantly made her melancholy, but she shook it off as best she could and hung her dress in the empty wardrobe.

  “I’ll get someone to bring in the trunks, then I’ll get Anna and myself dressed and ready.”

  In the silence that settled after Spring’s exit, Regan glanced around at the room that she supposed would be her own and wondered how Adele felt about another woman being in the lives of her husband and daughter. Regan truly wanted this new life to be successful, even if Colton Lee never grew feelings for her in his heart. Her musings were interrupted by the appearance of Ben and the telegraph operator, Odell Waters, hauling in her trunks.

  Ben groused, “You plan on adding a new room to the house to store whatever’s in all these trunks?”

  She didn’t reply. Instead, she asked Mr. Waters, “Has my telegraph been sent?”

  “Not yet, but I’m trying every day, twice a day to get it out. Don’t worry.”

  But she did because she’d promised to send word to her family as soon as she arrived. By now they were probably very concerned.

  The men had to make two trips, and with the arrival of each additional trunk and hatbox, the room seemed smaller and smaller. When the two men finished she thanked them.

  Odell smiled. Ben didn’t. They exited, leaving her alone again. Regan began unearthing what she needed from the trunks.

  An hour later, Regan studied her reflection in the wardrobe and was glad she’d packed what her sister, Portia, humorously called her “beetle dress.” The sweeping skirt was an iridescent blue silk that glowed with beauty and had three-quarters length sleeves. The sapphire bodice had a modest neckline and hugged her frame snugly. Around her throat hung a cameo on a blue velvet ribbon. Small sapphire ear bobs graced her lobes. Her hair was swept up, her face and lips fashionably painted and the way she looked was indeed enough to send the annoying Enright widow fleeing to the Klondike. Regan’s real goal, however, was to knock the aloof Dr. Colton Lee to his knees. Smiling at herself, she took a seat on the bed to await Spring and Anna. Her groom didn’t stand a chance.

  They appeared a few minutes later. Spring, dressed in a blue gown and with her hair up looked nothing like a woman who slaughtered hogs and sold horses. Anna, wearing a little red velvet dress, white stocking, and black slippers looked adorable.

  “You look like a princess,” Regan said to her.

  “Do I?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Anna smiled broadly at the compliment.

  Spring said, “And you, Miss Carmichael, look like a queen. My brother’s eyes are going to bug out and roll around on the ground.”

  “You don’t look so bad yourself. The dress is beautiful.”

  Spring looked embarrassed.

  To spare her, Regan asked, “Do you think they’re ready for us?”

  “Yes. So, let’s get going.”

  Dressed in the black suit he usually reserved for weddings or funerals, a terse Colt waited for his bride to appear. He’d been right about half the county showing up, because his fields were overrun with friends, neighbors, and people he’d never met. There was food and horseshoe tossing, dominoes, and poker games. Someone, probably Lacy Miller, had erected a bower decorated with wildflowers. Upon seeing it, Colt rolled his eyes, but was now standing beneath it waiting with his friend the sheriff, Whitman Lambert.

  “I thought Ben was standing up with you?”

  “I did, too, but he rode off about an hour ago.”

  “To where?”

  “His cabin. Said he needed to set the traps for One Eye. I think he just went to pout because I’m marrying over his objections.”

  “Here they come!” someone shouted.

  The crowd in front of the bower parted and the fiddlers
started in on the sweet strains of “Amazing Grace.”

  Colt turned to see his daughter solemnly walking towards him holding a small bouquet of wildflowers. In her red dress, and her hair threaded through with ribbons, she was so beautiful his chest hurt. He’d never seen the dress before and wondered where she’d gotten it, but further contemplation was cut short by the appearance of his sister. The dark burgundy off-shoulder gown with its fashionable overskirts transformed Spring from a rancher to a woman who’d just stepped out of a back East drawing room. Her raven black hair was pinned up, offering an unhindered view of her stunning face. The fiddlers paused. The locals hooted and hollered. The smiling Spring paused, did a slow turn so everyone could get a good look, and continued her walk to Anna’s side.

  A hush fell, and as the fiddlers began again, there was Regan Carmichael walking to the bower like a queen to her coronation. Colt stopped breathing.

  “My God,” Whit whispered. “Would you look at that woman!”

  Colt could do nothing but look—at her gown, her hair, her dark beauty, the confidence with which she moved. Her eyes were locked on his and the little smile she shot him immediately made him hard as a post. Jesus!

  The crowd seemed equally stunned. The silence was so thick, one could hear the wind in the trees.

  When she came to stand at his side, a shaken Colt acknowledged her with a nod, and turned his attention to Whit, while the faint, sensual scent of her perfume snared him like a siren’s song and added to the heart attack he swore he was in the throes of.

  Blessedly, the ceremony was short. She spoke her responses with clarity and ease. He on the other hand, stumbled, causing someone to yell out, “We understand, Doc! Take a deep breath!” Which of course made everyone laugh.

  Finally, Whit said, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  His bride turned his way. He knew she and the onlookers were expecting the traditional kiss. Instead, Colt took her hand and pressed his lips against the back.

  Spring chuckled. “Coward.”

  He ignored her, but ignoring the amusement in his new wife’s eyes was impossible. It was as though she knew he was struggling with his aplomb and was enjoying herself like a cat playing with a mouse.