Chapter Five
“PAPA, WHAT’S THE USEof creating and selling the Miracle Elixir if you don’t take some yourself when you need it?” Willa stood in her father’s room at the hotel a couple of evenings later, hands on her hips. They had just come from a light dinner in the restaurant downstairs, where Papa had only eaten half his meal.
Papa sat on the bed, covering yet another cough. It was likely only a cold, brought on by so many days in the chill air and the strain of taking the wagons from New Mexico to Creede. But Willa wanted to take no chances. Papa was getting older, and he needed his health in order to continue helping others keep theirs.
Papa’s eyes flitted to the bottle Willa had retrieved from the wagon earlier that day. Leroy and Amos slept in the wagons at the livery each night to guard the medicines and ingredients, while Papa carried the money they had made. “If I took some, it would mean someone else who needs it couldn’t have it.”
“Nonsense.” Willa almost stamped her foot. Papa could be so obstinate sometimes. “You and Leroy can always mix up some more. Take just a spoonful. And then you’ll feel much better come morning.”
Papa sighed, but Willa stood firm. He never used any of his own medicine, and as often as she told him he should, he’d never relented. Until now. She could feel him finally giving in.
“Fine,” he said, holding out his hand. “But only one spoonful.”
Willa beamed. “You’ll see, Papa. Using just a little will be worth it. You’ll feel so much better tomorrow.” She poured him a measured amount, and he took it. “Now get some rest while I run these meals over to Leroy and Amos.”
Papa nodded, and as Willa extinguished the lights, his breathing was measured in the way of someone already asleep. Willa slid quietly through the door and stopped by her own room to get her coat and the boxed-up meals.
She stepped outside and hesitated. It wasn’t very late, perhaps seven o’clock at the latest, yet given that it was winter, it was already dark outside. Thankfully, electric lamps lit the road and the sidewalks, and respectable people still walked about the streets. The chill air bit at her face as she hurried along to the livery. She delivered the meals to a grateful Leroy and Amos, who asked after her father’s health. She told them he would be just fine, and she knew he would be now that he’d taken the Miracle Elixir.
When she left, she pondered how she might make good on the proof she’d promised to get for that pompous Dr. Gatewood a few days ago. Just thinking of him sent a shiver down her spine and a smile to her lips. She drew her arms around herself. She was ridiculous for even indulging in such thoughts. But still, she had to admit it was nice to meet a man so much taller than she was, and one with thick dark hair whose smile disarmed her so. And that she’d been almost disappointed not to see him at their shows recently.
Willa laughed out loud as she walked, drawing more than one curious look. She strode past the empty lot where they’d set up the wagons during the day, and before she knew it, she was in front of the ladies’ boardinghouse again, Hearth and Home. The one with the comfortable-looking restaurant and . . . was that a Christmas tree? Willa drew in a breath as she peered through the window. Itwasa Christmas tree.
She stared through the window in delight as two ladies draped a garland of popped corn around the tree. The image brought back memories of years ago, when Willa was young and Mama was alive and they lived in a fixed place. Suddenly, she needed to see the tree up close.
Without thinking, she opened the door to the boardinghouse and restaurant. Once inside, the warmth and the scent of something wonderful—pie, perhaps?—flooded her senses. Uncertain what to do with herself now that she was inside, Willa glanced at the tree. She longed to see it, to touch the needles, to gaze at the pretty star that sat atop it.
“You may sit anywhere you like.” A friendly-looking woman in an apron stood in front of Willa. “Or are you here to inquire about a room?”
“Oh, no,” Willa said. “I . . .” She could hardly tell the woman she simply wanted to see the tree. Thankfully, she’d brought her small reticule with her. A few coins jingled in the bottom. “I’d like to take something sweet home to my father.”
The woman tilted her head. “You’re with the medicine show, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m Willa Rousseau.”
“Please, come in. I’m Millie McRae. I run the restaurant with my husband.” The woman led the way into the little sitting area with the tree. Willa followed her, unbuttoning her coat.
“Thank you. I do love the tree.” Her eyes wandered to what had drawn her inside.
“As do I. Two of the guests in the boardinghouse offered to decorate it.” Mrs. McRae nodded at the two ladies who were going through a small wooden box next to the tree. “Why don’t you rest here a moment? We have a chess pie, or we might have some chocolate cake left. Which would you prefer?”
