Page 6 of Choices of the Heart

He nodded. “I will certainly do all I can.”

Patrick had already joined the driver in assisting the only remaining passenger from the coach. Burke reached them just as she emerged. He did a quick assessment. Likely in her sixties. She appeared healthy other than a pallor and weakness that was, no doubt, the result of the illness the younger woman had mentioned. She was weak enough that she was struggling a little to stay on her feet.

“See her to the first room at the top of the stairs,” he instructed the men. “I’ll fetch my bag and be directly behind you.”

He followed close behind them, taking up his bag as he passed its spot near the door. The younger woman was right on his heels all the way up the stairs. Though she didn’t ask any questions, he suspected she had plenty.

Burke entered the room and sat on the stool beside the bed where the ailing traveler lay. His rooms were too small for anything but a bed, a bedside table, and a single stool. He’d debated, when the building was being constructed, on opting for fewer rooms that could be larger, but felt, in the end, should the town experience something truly awful in which he needed to tend to as many people as possible, he would be grateful for more beds.

He took the older woman’s hand in his and used her wrist to check her pulse. “If you feel equal to it, tell me what you are experiencing.”

“I don’t feel well.” The words emerged quiet and difficult.

“Conserve your strength,” he said. “If your traveling companion offers any explanation you feel is inaccurate, let me know.” He looked to the younger of the two women. “First, what is her name?”

“Millicent Archer.”

Patrick, who hovered in the doorway, looked as struck by that as Burke was.

“We have Archers in town,” Burke said.

She nodded. “We’ve come to visit them.”

Burke turned his attention to Patrick. “Fetch Joseph.” He looked to the younger woman once more. “And your name?”

“Sophie Kingston.”

Having a name helped build confidence. That was crucial in new patients. “Tell me all you can of”—the older woman wore a wedding band— “Mrs. Archer’s condition.”

“She was fine until we reached the train station two days ago. She felt a little odd after supper and wished to lie down. The next day, I suggested we delay our departure on the stage, but she wouldn’t hear of it. By last night, she was utterly miserable.”

Burke felt the glands along Mrs. Archer’s neck. “Miserable in what way? Specifics are helpful.”

“She’s not managed to keep down anything she’s eaten. She’s shifted between feverish and shivery. She says she is having horrible stomach pains.”

He addressed his next question to Mrs. Archer. “Are your pains high in your abdomen or low?”

“Both,” she whispered.

“And have you experienced other difficulties with your intestines beyond not ‘keeping down’ your food?” The woman put him too much in mind of the very prim and proper well-to-do ladies he’d attended sometimes in Chicago to dare approaching so delicate a subject without carefully chosen words.

“Yes.”

He checked her for fever and found she was not overly warm. That was a good sign.

“Please tell me what I can do to help,” Miss Kingston—he assumed her lack of a wedding band meantMisswas the proper form of address—begged.

“She ought to have remained in the hotel by the train station. There is a fine doctor in that town who would have looked after her.”

Miss Kingston sighed. “I did try to convince her.”

“Next time, please try harder.”

She did not appear to appreciate that adviceat all. But he hadn’t time to soften his unintentional blow.

“Please go back over to the inn and ask Mrs. O’Connor to bring Mrs. Archer some broth. Then have her show you where the water pump is and bring up a bucketful. I suspect your ‘traveling companion’ is parched as well as ill.”

“She is more than my traveling companion,” Miss Kingston said.

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