The two continued to whisper argue with each other while he looked over the papers. Both appeared to have valid deeds. And yet, one deed was ten years older than the other. Well before the gold rush had hit Nome.
Very interesting.
“Fellas, I’m going to hold on to these to ensure their safety and demand that you both appear before Judge Beck in the morning. I’ll let him know you are coming. Until then, I suggest you go home and get some rest.”
“But—”
“Hey, that’s not—”
“I insist, gentlemen.” Judas got up from his chair and pushed them both out the door and then closed it behind them.
Then he went back to the desk and studied the papers one more time.
This would work perfectly.
TWENTY
The morning was almost balmy after the frigid temperatures the last six weeks. Even though it was only February, Peter looked forward to spring. Because then maybe this sickness would be past. He took long, steady strides throughout town, taking the time to savor his walk.
He’d held his breath for days waiting to hear that more cases had sprung up, but so far, so good. He’d spent a good deal of time checking his herbs and tonics and tending to the small indoor gardens he kept in his office. Pretty soon, he’d need to hire someone to help out because he wouldn’t be able to keep up with all of it.
As he made his way the length of town and back, he prayed for every person he knew by name and then the others he didn’t. God had brought him here for a reason, and he wanted to be about the Father’s will, even if he didn’t understand what it was.
As he prayed for the town, his thoughts quickly shifted to Whitney.
Funny, he thought about her even more now that he’d shared about losing his wife and child. The fact was, hedidn’t think of Charlotte nearly as much as he had in the past. Even the bad dreams were gone.
Whitney. Her striking eyes that noticed everything. Her deft hands helping him tend to the sick. Her depth of care for people, showcased in the sorrow and anxiety she’d dealt with after her own losses.
The woman had gone through so much upheaval the past year, and yet it seemed as though nothing could shake her. At least, that’s what she conveyed to everyone.
The fact that she’d allowed him into her innermost struggles touched his heart. And when she’d handed over her bottle of whiskey for him to use at the gold camp, he’d wanted to cheer.
She never asked for it back.
Her eyes had become bright again. Her blood pressure had lowered.
Thank You, Lord, for showing me the signs of her hypertension.
If he hadn’t put the pieces together, she might be in a much worse place right now. A little niggle at the back of his mind warned him that it wasn’t over, though. Whitney could very well be struggling with her dependency on the alcohol.
The jangling of a harness brought his attention around.
Without even thinking about it, he’d struck out on the road toward the Bundrant farm.
Mr. Norris from the Roadhouse sent him a wave. “Dr. Cameron, it’s good to see you this morning. What brings you out here?”
“I was out on my morning constitutional, and I guess my thoughts distracted me. Where are you headed?”
Norris brought his sleigh to a stop. “I’m on my way out to the Bundrant—um, well I guess it’s the Powell, no maybe ...Roselli?” He shrugged. “You know what I mean. I’m headed out to Chuck’s farm to pick up the milk, cream, and butter for the Roadhouse.”
“Would you mind if I tagged along?” He didn’t have anything pressing this morning, and it would give him a good excuse to check on Whitney and Ruth.
“Not at all. Hop in.”
The ride out to the farm passed in a flurry of words. Peter had no idea the man was such a talker. He learned a good deal about what was happening in town. Including that there were rumored to be a couple of cases of measles in Nome. Two miners had apparently come in from the gold camps to try to find claims elsewhere, but they were now sick.
Add that to his ever-growing list, and he’d have plenty to keep him busy. On top of trying to get out to the farm as often as he could to work with the dogs.
