“It works!” a man shouted from the front row, down a little ways from where Nick stood. He stepped out to face the crowd, wearing a recently pressed vest and trousers, his shirt not showing a speck of dirt, and a fine, long wool coat that he wore unbuttoned, all looking as if they’d just been purchased at a shop. “I promise you, it works! I bought a bottle only yesterday, and already today I had more energy up in the King Silver mine than I ain’t ever had before. I lifted rocks like they was made from feathers.” The man nearly glowed with pride at his supposed newfound strength.
Nick frowned. It was going on noon. When did this miner have time to work up in a mine this morning, come back down into town, bathe, and then change into that clearly newly purchased set of clothing?
“You see, my friends!” Dr. Rousseau paused to cover a cough, and then clapped the man on the back. “My Miracle Elixir can help you too. Thank you, Mr. Coomes. Now, remember, it doesn’t work immediately. You won’t wake up as strong as Amos or with eyesight as perfect as Mr. Taunton’s.” The tall, thin man who’d played the accordion nodded in agreement. “Instead, you’ll see results like those of Mr. Coomes here. A slow improvement each day as the medicine builds in your body.”
Nick scoffed. The men on either side of him turned to look at him, and he shook his head.
The “doctor” coughed again and stepped backward with a handkerchief to his mouth. The show went on, with the accordion player demonstrating his prowess with both a rifle and a revolver, hitting cans and smaller targets with eerie accuracy. Dr. Rousseau praised the man’s eyesight and coordination, claiming that this Leroy Taunton couldn’t see a foot in front of his face or play even a note of music before taking his Miracle Elixir.
Nick’s attention wandered to the lady in the red skirts. She had watched the shooting with rapt attention before turning her sweet smile back to the crowd. Her eyes lingered on his just a moment longer than anyone else’s, and he stood a little bit straighter. Did she believe the ruse for which she was working? He refused to imagine that a woman so poised and intelligent-looking could fall for such foolishness.
“It helped my indigestion!” Another man stepped out from the crowd.
Dr. Rousseau beamed at him as the man tucked his hands around his suspender straps.
“Each night, I suffered greatly from indigestion. It didn’t matter what I ate or whether I ate at all. My stomach kept me up at all hours. But last night, I took just one spoonful of the doctor’s Miracle Elixir, and I slept more than I have in years!”
Nick narrowed his eyes. Nothing—no medicine or herb or anything known to man—could cure such a wide variety of ills. This doctor was a quack. In fact, Nick doubted the man was a doctor at all. And as he looked around him at people nodding and appearing taken in by this sham of a physician, Nick couldn’t contain his irritation. How dare this man steal money from these people? Even worse, if they bought into this pretend medicine, they might not seek actual medical help for their illnesses.
“This is nonsense.” The words arose from his throat without any further thought.
A few people turned to look at him. Nick cleared his throat and spoke again, louder this time. “This is all nonsense.”
That got their attention. A few ladies gasped and Dr. Rousseau regarded him with an amused expression. The woman with the chestnut hair clutched the bottle of elixir she’d been holding up to her chest, her pretty smile disappearing.
Nick pulled his eyes from her and stepped out to address the crowd. “I am newly arrived in your town, but I am a physician trained at the medical college in Cincinnati. Please trust me when I tell you that no . . .medicine. . . can cure such a wide variety of ills.”
The people in the crowd began whispering amongst themselves. Nick leveled his gaze at Dr. Rousseau, who still bore an expression of amused irritation. Nick didn’t know what the man would say to refute his words, but he didn’t much care to remain at this farce of a medical show and listen to more lies.
He turned back to the crowd. “I trust you’re all intelligent enough to make up your own minds. If you’re truly experiencing disease or illness, I urge you to speak with one of the fine doctors I’m certain you have in this town.” And with that, he nodded to Dr. Rousseau and strode away from the crowd.
He could feel the beautiful assistant’s eyes on him as he left. Curiosity got the better of him, and on the pretense of needing to button his coat, he paused at the edge of the crowd and looked back at her. Her eyes were narrowed and she looked to be seething with anger.
And, oddly, not even her outright distaste for him made her any less beautiful. He gave her a smile, which only served to deepen her frown, and then moved away to see if Dr. Thomas had returned to his office.
Chapter Three
