Fran straightened up to stare down the row of late beans and wished she hadn’t planted this extra row when she first moved into the center with Betty. The early beans had already been picked then and it had seemed reasonable to replant the row for a fall crop. At the time, it was something of a lark to plant beans. Now it was just one more chore on her long list, and she was tired.
Nothing in the Frontier Nursing brochure had said a thing about breaking her back picking beans. Or milking cows. Or carrying water from the spring. A nice long hot shower sounded like heaven right then, but the only shower she’d get here was standing out in the rain or pouring a bucket of water over her head.
A breeze blew against her face, as fresh as the mountain trees it had just swept through. Here and there, a few of those trees were sporting red and yellow leaves. Fall was not just coming anymore. It was here. With winter ready to chase in behind it. Betty warned her of that every day.
“Just wait until the snow starts falling and you have to break the ice in the water bucket. Then these mountains might not seem so pretty to you,” she’d told her just that morning when they rode their horses through a particularly colorful stretch of trees on the way back from ushering the Tipton baby into the world. A pretty little girl to join her two sisters and three brothers. But everybody—mother, father, and siblings—seemed entranced by the new addition to their family.
Children were a poor man’s riches. Mrs. Breckinridge had told Fran that when she stopped by to visit the center last week. She’d come to give Fran the details about her trip to Lexington to take her final exam to be a fully qualified midwife. Then she’d talked to Fran about her future with the frontier nurses. It seemed Betty was anxious for an extended vacation to visit her family in New York.
“You know the people here in this district now,” Mrs. B said. “You could continue their care without the upheaval of them having to get used to a different nurse. Betty tells me you have excellent nursing skills.”
Fran had been surprised to hear that kind of praise from Betty. But when she thought about it, Betty rarely complained about her nursing abilities. Instead, she harped on Fran being too interested in the mountain culture and continually warned her not to listen to their different ways and superstitious cures.
Fran had to admit some of the cures went past odd to bizarre. One father insisted the drop of his toddler’s blood on a grain of corn he fed to a black hen had cured the boy’s lingering cough. As long as the mother dosed the child with the medication Fran prescribed, it hardly mattered what the father fed the hen or what color that hen might be.
The boy being well was what mattered most. As long as the people allowed her to treat them, she could abide their folk cures, agree that some had merit and ignore the ones that didn’t but were harmless. Betty, on the other hand, was ready to lock horns with the people if they mentioned any mountain cure.
Mrs. Breckinridge had a rule for her nurses not to talk politics, religion, or moonshine. Mountain cures might be added on to that, except as nurses they had to know what doses their patients had tried before they were called in. While it was easy enough to dismiss the black hen cure or putting hair clippings under a rock to keep away headaches, other cures like peppermint tea for an upset stomach had merit.
Fran would be ready to try that one herself. Or Granny Em’s dogwood bark remedy for heartburn. It seemed to work for Becca. Last week when she and Betty went to the Lockes’, they’d found Becca up in a tree picking apples.
Betty lectured the girl. “Falling out of trees is not advised for expectant mothers.” Betty had given Becca a stern look. “You do have brothers who can pick those apples for you.”
“Those boys are never around when you need them, and I’ve got a hankering for one of Ma’s pies.” Becca slid down out of the tree and landed on her feet light as a cat. She flashed Fran a big smile. “Have you seen Ben lately?”
“Not since the last time I was here.” Fran pulled her saddlebag off Jasmine and followed Becca up the porch steps.
“Yeah. That day we give you the speckled butter beans. Did you like the brown things?”
“They were good. Thank you.” Fran looked over at Betty as she dismounted. “You remember the purple-speckled beans I cooked for us.”
“Oh yes. They made a substantial meal with cornbread,” Betty said. “Your mother is kind to share her garden produce with us.”
“Ma says what’s the use of having a sass patch if a body can’t share the plenty of it. But I weren’t sure Ben actually give you the beans that day.” Becca gave Fran a sideways look. “He seemed a mite perturbed after you rode off. Can’t imagine what his problem was, can you?”
“You’d have to ask him that, but he did give me the beans.” Fran could feel Betty watching her as they went inside.
Sadie looked up from helping her mother roll out pie dough with a smile that turned shy when she saw Betty behind Fran.
In the bedroom, Fran stuck the ends of her stethoscope in her ears and told Becca to take some deep breaths while she listened to her chest. She hoped that would get Becca to switch to talk about the baby and not Ben Locke. Fran was relieved he wasn’t there. At least that was what she told herself, even as her grandmother’s warning slipped through her head that the worst person to lie to was yourself.
Becca waited until Fran had listened to her heart and was ready to listen for the baby’s heartbeat. “We didn’t know where he’d got off to that day. But then he brung home a horse.”
“I’m sure that made Woody happy.”
“Oh, we all were.” She shot Betty a smile. “I reckon if Mary the mother of Jesus could ride a donkey all the way to Bethlehem, there ain’t no reason I can’t ride a horse, is there, Nurse?”
“If the horse is gentle.” Betty didn’t smile. “And you don’t do something foolish like fall off.”
Becca cradled her growing abdomen with her hands. “Don’t worry, Nurse. I aim to do ev’rything I can to be a good mother to this little fellow.”
“You have no way to know you’re carrying a boy,” Betty warned. “It’s best to be open to having a boy or a girl.”
“I’d welcome either one, but I just know this first one is a boy. The way he kicks around in there.”
“Could be a girl just like her mama.” Fran laid the stethoscope on Becca’s belly. “Now be still a minute so I can hear the baby’s heartbeat.” After she listened, she pulled the earpieces free and held them out to Becca. “Nice and strong. You want to hear?”
Becca shook her head. “Ain’t no need. I hear his heart beating right along with mine. That’s a mama thing. Guess the two of you wouldn’t know about that, not having had no babies of your own.”
Becca hadn’t meant the remark to be hurtful and there was no reason it should have been. But it stabbed Fran then and lingered even now. No babies of your own.
Seth’s image flickered through her thoughts before she pulled in a long breath and leaned down to pick more beans. Jeralene, the girl who helped them now and again with their chores, was coming later to help them string up the beans for shucky beans. Not that it sounded hard. Just break off the ends and thread them on a cotton string to hang to dry. That had to be less work than canning them by boiling the jars of beans for hours. Of course, Betty warned her it took some taste adjustment to actually like shucky beans. But then Betty warned her about everything. And picked the easier chores. She was inside counting pills or who knew what. Maybe taking a nap.
Fran yawned. She could use a nap after being called out at midnight for Mrs. Tipton to have her baby. Then the woman hadn’t had a minute’s trouble. When Fran told her that, Mrs. Tipton pointed to the next room where the other children waited to welcome their new sister. “I’ve done had a mite of practice.”
Now Fran needed some practice sleeping before the morning. She hoped no emergencies popped up to take them out this evening. She planned to ride back up to the Nolans’ in the morning to check on Lurene. She’d already been to see her once since the doctor declared her well enough to go home from the hospital. She had a ways to go to build up her strength, but Ira had been right there with Lurene, doing whatever necessary for the girl and his baby.
Fran’s bucket was almost full of beans when a truck roared up the creek toward the center. She still hadn’t quite gotten used to the mountain people using creeks for roads, but often as not that was the smoothest places for a vehicle to run. She didn’t look up even when the truck stopped in front of the house, but kept picking to finish out the row. Betty was inside. She could take care of whatever the people needed.
She was yanking off the last bean pods when somebody spoke up behind her. “Nurse Howard, I thought I saw you out here.”
She knew his voice at once. She straightened up and turned toward where he waited at the end of the garden. A fine-looking yellow-and-white collie sat on the ground beside him, its tail swiping back and forth across the grass. She wiped her hands on her pants and brushed the hair back off her forehead. Not the best time to meet up with Ben Locke again. But then, what difference did it make how she looked? She didn’t need to impress him. She was his family’s nurse. That was all.
She picked up her bucket and walked toward him. “Hello, Mr. Locke. Is something wrong with Sadie?”
“She’s fine. Becca keeps her busy with something all the time so Sadie can’t mope.” He made a little face. “As far as that goes, Becca keeps us all busy with something. She wears me out sometimes.”
Ben Locke smiled then, and in spite of herself, Fran’s heart did a little stutter step. The man had the most remarkable eyes, and when he smiled, it was like the sun coming out in that dark blue. She set her bucket down and pretended the bean picking was the reason she needed to catch her breath.
“Did you get Sadie a dog?” She held out her hand toward the dog. It was better to look at the dog instead of Ben Locke’s eyes. The dog gingerly sniffed her hand and then gave her fingers a lick. That made Fran smile. “He must like the smell of beans.”
“Or the one picking the beans.” When Fran looked back at him, he rushed on as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have. “Why don’t you get somebody to pick the beans for you?”
Fran shrugged. “Jeralene Robinson does help us some. And Woody comes by now and again to help with this or that chore.”
“I’m betting especially when Jeralene is here.” Ben smiled a little. “Ma says he’s sweet on the girl.”
“That’s not surprising. She’s pretty as a spring flower.”
“But very young. Both of them.”
“I’ve seen some very young mothers here in the hills.”
“Exactly,” Ben said.
“Oh.” Her cheeks warmed to embarrass her even more. She was a nurse. Talking about such things as the consequences of young love was part of her job and no reason for blushing. “I’ll talk to Jeralene when she comes by later. She’s supposed to show me how to string up shucky beans.” Fran pointed at the bucket.
Some high-pitched yaps came from the truck in front of the center. Fran peered around Ben toward it. “Is that your truck?”
He looked over his shoulder at the truck too. “Yep. Just bought it today.”
“It’s making some unusual noises.”
Ben laughed. “Come on and I’ll show you what’s yipping.”
He started toward the truck. The collie dog reached a paw out to touch her hand before he followed Ben. With that kind of invitation, how could she refuse? She picked up the bucket of beans.
“Let me carry those for you.” Ben reached for the bucket, his hand brushing hers. The dog wagged his tail and bared his teeth in a funny dog grin.
“Is he smiling?” It was easier thinking about a smiling dog than how the mere touch of Ben’s hand had her feeling breathless again. What in the world was wrong with her? She barely knew the man.
“This one is an interesting dog. I think he does smile and I wouldn’t be all that surprised to hear him talking.”
“A talking dog? I’ve seen a lot up here in the mountains, but not that.” Fran laughed.
“You’re right. That is a little far-fetched. Could be Sarge only reads minds then.”
“Sarge?” Fran gave Ben a look.
“That doesn’t have to be his name. Just one I thought might fit.” He stopped beside the house. “You want me to put these beans on the porch?”
Fran looked toward the house, hoping Betty wasn’t peering out the window at Fran and Ben, side by side. She must be asleep or she’d be right there in the door, sending Ben on his way if he didn’t need nursing care.
“Just leave them there in the shade.” Fran nodded toward a tree. “From the sounds coming from your truck, you’d better go check that out.” The yipping was getting more frantic. “You must have a puppy in there.”
He set the bucket down. “Puppies. As in two. Ma is gonna shoot me, but I had in mind to get one for Woody. Then the guy talked me into two.”
“Or three.” Fran looked at the dog walking beside them.
“We need to talk about that.”
“Are you saying you have more than three?” She didn’t wait for him to answer but stepped up on the running board to peer in the truck window. A fluffy pup jumped up on the door and yapped even louder. Another pup was on the floorboard, its tail between its trembling legs.
Fran wanted to pick up the timid puppy, but she didn’t feel she should open the truck door. So instead she lifted the yapping puppy out through the window. “They are the cutest things. Sadie is going to be one happy little girl when you get home with these.”