“Yep, he arrived not too long ago. See you later, Doc,” Robert gave a toothy grin and waved goodbye as Daniel left. Across from the livery was the Grant Clinic. It was a convenient arrangement between the Conroys and the Grants—free board for the horses and free medical treatment for the Conroys when needed.
The clinic was a similar but smaller two-story version of the Cheyenne Club on East 17th Street, just off Warren Avenue, one of the few brick buildings in town. Fan-shaped brick steps led to a wraparound porch supported by thick wooden posts. Chestnut benches were placed around the porch for people to sit and rest.
Behind the clinic was a simple house where Rose Webster, the clinic’s maid and housekeeper, lived with her family. Rose cleaned the clinic, washed the soiled linen, and tended to any hygiene and matters of upkeep. At times Daniel wished she had the skills to assist in their medical work. They needed a nurse, but not many came west, particularly to Cheyenne. He would have to speak to Alistair about placing an advert for a nurse. Soon it would be winter, their busiest time, due to illness.
A wooden signpost at the bottom of the porch stairs bore the name of the clinic. Daniel’s father spared no expense to ensure the sign in front of the building was large enough to be seen from at least a block away. It was professionally lettered by a signage company in New York.
Daniel’s mind drifted back to Matthew, and he felt a rush of affection and love for his little boy. He remembered how concerned Ruth looked when at first he couldn’t believe his son had called him Dada, and she laughed. Daniel enjoyed her musical laugh and looked forward to hearing it again. She was like a breath of fresh air, and he knew he would not likely be able to resist his attraction to her much longer. Being near her sometimes made him feel nervous and then he’d feel annoyed with himself, but he also remembered that those same feelings had struck him for Mary Jane.
Only patients entered through the front door of the clinic. There were other doors for physicians and staff, and they remained locked.
Today, however, Daniel entered by the front door and greeted Alistair’s surprised countenance with a cheery greeting. Alistair was standing behind the apothecary counter, where cabinets and wall shelving held bottles and jars of medication.
“Well, I was wondering when you were going to make your appearance,” Alistair huffed in his deep baritone voice and didn’t look up at Daniel. “As you can see, I’m busy and patients are already lining up. Medicine will not practice itself, Daniel, and I will need to go to my laboratory later to make more medicine.”
“I see you’re happy as always, Alistair?” Daniel commented sardonically to his partner. Not even Alistair could sour his mood today.
Six chairs were placed in a semi-circle across from the high apothecary counter. An oval chestnut table sat in the center of the waiting area, with newspapers on top.
“I’ll be in my office; ring the bell when a patient arrives.” Daniel opened the door that separated the druggist’s area from the offices, laboratory, surgery room, and consulting area. He chuckled as he heard Alistair grouse beneath his breath as Daniel closed the door behind him.
He and Alistair had consulting rooms that were opposite each other, which made it convenient if one needed a second opinion. The rooms each had an examination table, an oak table with side drawers and three ladderback chairs and a tall oak medicine cabinet.
Alistair usually finished up sorting the medication bottles at the apothecary desk by eight o’clock and opened up the interleading door for patients to be admitted to the consulting rooms.
***
Daniel sat at his desk, his side drawers stacked with unfinished reports. His comfortable old leather chair creaked as he shifted in his seat. He frowned. There were too many people becoming ill with the common cold, and winter had not yet begun. Alistair would need to make sure there was enough medicine on hand for the winter, including opiates, morphine, calomel, whiskey, ether, chlorophyll, chlorinated lime water, and silk thread. Mrs. O’Neil was booked for a surgical procedure next week.
He shook his head, remembering when she had asked about bloodletting. He had to convince her that the use of leeches for treatment was not safe and definitely outmoded.
Too many people encouraged bloodletting, but his father was against such a practice. Patients sometimes search out a physician who would allow it and if the patient survived, they would end up back at the Grant Clinic or the Memorial Laramie County Hospital. He remembered Alistair recommend the practice to his father. When Daniel heard about it, he put his foot down and threatened to assume the care of his partner’s patient unless he ceased the outmoded treatment immediately.
While they finished work upstairs in their offices, Rose cleaned up the clinic and made up the ward beds with fresh linen. If a new patient arrived, she’d call one of the physicians right away. The only room she was prohibited from entering by herself was Alistair's laboratory; he was extremely fussy about the room.
“I received a telegram.” Alistair's gray handlebar mustache quivered as his thin lips moved. “The freighter that contains my order is delayed by a few days and should arrive next week.”
“Well, if that’s the case,” Daniel rubbed his chin thoughtfully and watched Alistair go to his desk, “we’ll need to purchase medicine from the hospital again.”
Alistair dropped heavily into his chair. When Daniel’s father was alive, he demolished a wall between two rooms to create an open office area. Both men had a spectacular view of the city. Four other rooms were used for supplies, linen, and coal for the cast iron stoves installed some of the clinic’s rooms.
“Yes, I suppose, but I’m not thrilled by the idea,” Alistair said, lifting papers from his desk, his thick gray brows knit together as he scanned their contents. “I see you’ve put in an advert in the paper for a nurse, already?” Alistair didn’t look happy and turned to face Daniel, his fingers resting over his mouth.. “When exactly where you going to talk to me about this?”
“Yes, about that. I’ve wanted to speak to you about it for a while now, but I haven’t seen you around the clinic.” Daniel sighed and folded his arms, “You know we need a nurse and cannot wait much longer. Rose doesn’t have the skills we need.”
Alistair was silent for a moment as if in deep thought, then complained, “If you didn’t spend so much time in saloons, you would have seen me here in the clinic.” He cleared his throat and shook his head firmly, “I am going to retract this advert—”
“You can’t’,” Daniel said sharply. “It’s already gone to print throughout the states.”
“You’re an opportunist like your father,” Alistair said, his voice full of animosity. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
“You do?” Daniel’s head tilted to one side with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s obvious,” Alistair clasped his hands together and rested them on his lap. “You want to meet all the eligible unmarried ladies and leave me out of the interviews to keep them all to yourself.”
Daniel burst into laughter, “Alistair, where did you get such a silly notion?” He noticed his partner had not flinched, just stared at him. Could he be serious? Daniel stopped laughing.
“You’re serious?” he asked incredulously and watched Alistair sit upright and straighten his black jacket. “Youareserious. Why?”
