Hannah and Joseph left the Maxfield cabin in the family wagon, wrapped up in blankets to protect themselves from the cold, wintry wind that was common in late January in Eastern Kentucky. The twosome was headed to Oakley Creek to the mercantile store for the week's supply of dry goods: flour for biscuits, salt and sugar. Upon pulling out of the yard, Hannah gazed at the bare trees and rocky mountain tops of the Appalachian Mountains that adorned the skyline ahead. Most of the Christmas snow had melted by this time, making the man-made road muddy and hard to maneuver by wagon. The sun was beginning to peak out of the clouds, creating a multi-colored sky with strips of purple, red, orange and yellow visible ahead of them, as Hannah stared in amazement at the sight unfolding right in front of her eyes.
"Look at how gorgeous the sky looks this morning, Joseph. This is why I love to get up early of the morning, before Al or even daddy either one is up. I just love to go out on the porch and see the sun rise and take it all in. It really...moves me, I guess is the best way of sayin' it."
"It sure is pretty. I never could figure out how the sun could make all them colors all by itself, with no one to help it," replied Joseph. Even though he was up early each morning to help his parents with the farm chores before going to work for Mr. Mulvaney, Joseph did not have the appreciation for nature or all of her marvels like his mother and sister did. He wondered how the sun could create such a colorful palette in the sky; but, between working with Frank, helping Mr. Mulvaney and trading labor for extras he did not want to pay for, Joseph did not have the time to romanticize, figure out the phenomenon or to give it much thought at all.
"'Just nature,' is what Mama says. She says that nature has a masterful way of makin' its own beauty all on its own. She says that we can observe it and soak up nature's energy and it will help us to be more creative, too," remembered Hannah, as she gazed, mesmerized by everything that surrounded her in that moment.
"I don't know about all that. I think if you can draw or paint, you can do it from a young child, you can't just learn it by fillin' yourself up with a bunch of air you breathed outside," Joseph said as he grabbed the reins with gloved hands. If his remarks appeared cool, it was because Joseph and Frank were both skeptical about many of the things Mary believed, even though Joseph chose to keep quiet in front of his father. Mary had her hands full with just one of them picking apart everything she said.
"I believe you can breathe in everything Mother Nature has to offer by just bein' outside and bein' grateful for all the gifts She gives you," Hannah responded, bringing the quilt from her lap up closer to her chin. The wind was blowing hard now, making the trees sway from here to there, but there were other things for which to be thankful, like the snow melting earlier than expected, making the downtown of Oakley Creek reachable with more ease. The melting snow was also making every yard on their way out of the holler muddy, and the wheels of the wagon were getting stuck in it continuously.
As the Maxfield wagon passed by the O'Sullivans', the siblings noticed Jack O'Sullivan walking up his driveway, just arriving home from the Oakley tavern, no doubt, after a night of drinking corn whiskey with some of his buddies. The O'Sullivans' big, white mutt, Rufus, turned his attention away from barking at his master and began chasing the wagon. Jack appeared relieved to get a moment's reprieve from the dog as he stumbled towards the house, holding the right side of his head as it was undoubtedly pounding with each beat of his heart. The dog's thick coat was caked in mud from rolling around in the dirt in front of the house.
"Shut up, you damn mutt," Jack shouted, tripping on the first step to the cabin. O'Sullivan caught himself on the rail which prevented him from falling yet again on the porch steps.
Joseph blushed because he was embarrassed a man had used a curse word within his sister's earshot and clicked to the horses, purposely increasing their speed past the neighbors.
"Why would you yell at a poor dog that's just doin' what a dog's supposed to do?" Hannah, an animal lover, asked, upset at the way Jack had treated Rufus.
"Don't worry about other folks' business, Hannah. He can do whatever he wants to that dog, it's his."
Hannah shrugged off Joseph's indifference to living things and continued to look at the fields that lined the road into Oakley Creek, in full gratitude that she lived in such a beautiful part of the country, without the city noise or tall buildings obstructing her view. By the time the sun had come up fully in the sky, the two were entering town. A short wooden building with a pointed roof and a wrap-around porch was situated about 50 feet in front of the wagon and when Hannah and Joseph reached the front of the mercantile store, Joseph hitched up the horse and helped Hannah down from her seat. Hannah unwrapped herself from the quilts that had been swathed around her on the trip and headed inside the store.
While Joseph walked over to the boardinghouse Sam Mulvaney owned to check in on the work that remained to be done on a number of rooms upstairs, Hannah went in the store to buy the goods Mary needed in the kitchen. Leon Wells, the store keeper, greeted Hannah merrily and asked if there was anything in particular for which she was looking on this bright and sunny day.
"Flour, coffee and salt is all, Mr. Wells, thank you," Hannah replied, looking around at some of the new merchandise Wells Goods had gotten in recently. It appeared that a fresh shipment of Butterscotch candy had arrived and Mr. Wells noticed Hannah eying it from behind the brim of her brown gingham bonnet.
"Why don't you take a few pieces of that Butterscotch candy for you, Albert and Joseph, Hannah? I know little Al will sure enough enjoy it," Leon said, handing her the blue glass jar filled with sweets. Hannah excitedly unscrewed the tin lid from the jar of candy, quickly popping one into her mouth, and reserving two additional pieces for her brothers.
"Your mama has sure done a lot for me and the wife here lately, what with the baby a-comin' early while Dr. Thompson was away from town. I don't think either Mrs. Wells or the little'n would've survived if it wasn't for Mrs. Maxfield and the way she used her herbs to lower Bonnie's fever. We're both most appreciative of her coming all the way into town in the middle of the night, and with it so cold and all that snow a-comin' down." Little Eliza Wells was born about a month early and Mrs. Wells would have been forced to labor on her own because Dr. Thompson was at another village caring for patients who had contracted a strand of the flu that had been going around that town; however, as soon as Mr. Wells's oldest son, Leon Jr., came to the Maxfields' place late into the night of the Christmas dinner, Mary grabbed her bag of herbs, cloths and mountain medicines to ride the fifteen miles out of the holler on one of the Maxfield mares. The snow storm Frank and Joseph had been talking about that evening came to fruition, dumping a foot of snow on Oakley, blinding the pair of riders as it came down upon them from the black night sky. Even though Junior brought the Wells' wagon, Mary insisted on riding her own horse so she would not have to bother any of Bonnie's kin for a ride back home.
Immediately upon arrival at Wells Goods, Mary could hear Bonnie moaning upstairs in their living quarters. Leon, Sr. was at the bottom of the stairs leading to their rooms, in anticipation of the Medicine Woman. He grabbed Mary's hand in gratitude and lead way to the bedroom where Bonnie was lying on the bed in a paisley nightdress. The patient was sweating profusely, with her blond bangs sticking to her forehead with the moisture. The other four Wells children were looking at their mother with wide eyes and full of fear.
"First thing's first, Leon, you need to get the rest of these kids out of here, please," Mary's words took control of the situation as she set down her bag on an oak nightstand next to the bed.
"I'll take them in the front room," Leon, Jr. replied. His father was visibly shaken by the matter at hand and did not realize the kids were even in the room with them.
"I'm sorry to be calling on you this late at night, Mrs. Maxfield, but I've never known Bonnie to have this much trouble birthin' and this baby wasn't supposed to be here til next month, anyhow. We was plannin' on sendin' the little ones to Bonnie's mother," Leon rambled on, trying to explain his intrusive actions to a nonetheless understanding and compassionate Mary. "I tried callin' on Dr. Thompson, but he's in Harlan looking after a bunch of flu cases over there and Mrs. Thompson said the new doctor got held up by the snow storm and didn't make into town yet."
"It's not a problem, Leon. I'll do what I can. Why don't you go in the kitchen and boil me up some water so I can have it if I need it."
Leon nodded and turned to go into the kitchen. Mary rolled up the sleeves of her blouse and sat on the bed next to Bonnie. The pregnant woman was panting and rolling her head from side to side, hot with fever and pain. The contractions were coming every few minutes now, so Mary knew that the baby would be born soon. Mary propped a pillow that was lying next to Bonnie behind the woman's head and asked her to try and sit up. Bonnie's body was exhausted from the pains and being up half the night, but she propped herself up on her hands and brought up her upper body against the headboard of the iron bed. Mary moved off the side of the bed and toward the footboard, asking Bonnie to bring up her knees against her body.
"It won't be long now, dear. You'll have to push for me when the pains come, Bonnie. You've done this before, honey, so just remember that you can do it."
Bonnie squeezed the bed sheets in her fists as another labor pain flooded upon her. She screamed out in pain, clenching her teeth and shutting her eyes, her chin down to her chest. In another few seconds, Bonnie's head shot backwards as she prepared herself to push once more. As Leon was coming into the bedroom, a baby girl could be heard crying, being laid down on her mother's bosom.
"I know you don't feel like it after what you been through, but you need to try and feed her, Bonnie. She needs to get used to the nipple. See if she can latch on at least," Mary instructed as she wiped her hands on an apron that was tied behind her back.
"Looks to me like you got you another girl, Leon. She seems to be healthy, but have Doc Thompson check her out when he comes back to town."
Bonnie tried to nurse the baby, but her fever was not decreasing and her lips were dry from not drinking much water while she was in labor. The mother's exhaustion began to show when Bonnie's baby girl was placed in her arms, but her arms went limp and her head slid back on one of the prongs of the iron bed. Loud groans and heavy breathing could be heard from Bonnie's open mouth as the baby wiggled on her chest, searching for a source of food. Mary helped Bonnie loosen her nightdress at the top to allow the newly born baby access to her mother's milk, her sucking sounds soon replacing Bonnie's heavy breathing.
"There ya go, little one, you can eat a little now," Mary cooed at the baby while covering up Bonnie with a quilt.
"Leon, you can let the kids in now. I know they're probably chomping at the bit, wanting to see their new sister." Leon, Jr., as usual, lead the parade of his brothers and sisters into their mother's room to meet the new sibling. The two Wells daughters were especially in awe of their mother and what had just taken place. Out of the corner of her eye, Mary caught the young ladies staring from her to their mother and smiled brightly at them, seeing their exhilaration at receiving yet another baby sister instead of a brother. The girls approached their mother and stared over her elbow to get a glimpse at the eighth member of their family.
"She's still looking peaked, Miss Mary," Leon said as he looked at his wife who was trying to rest, herself, and not paying much attention to the satisfied newborn now soundly sleeping.
"Fever ain't going down any. I'll go in the kitchen and make a tonic right quick," Mary replied, getting Flowering Ash Tree bark out of her medicine bag. The practice of wildcrafting aromatics in their natural habitat was passed down to Ethel from her Tennessee ancestors and she continued its use when she and her family moved to Eastern Kentucky. Flowering Ash Trees grew in the mountains behind the Maxfield cabin, as well as at Mary's childhood home. Around April or May, white blooms appeared on the branches; and, during the Fall months, Mary collected the tree bark for medicinal uses, such as skin irritations and lowering fever. The particular bark Mary was using for Bonnie's tonic was collected in late October of the previous year while she and Ethel, were foraging for herbs in the woods that spanned the entire region in which they lived.
Ethel's great-great grandmother introduced her to the proper way of collecting natural medicine by instructing her to first have a white handkerchief blessed by the dew of an Easter Sunday morning. The white cloth was laid out in the yard overnight on the Saturday evening before Easter Sunday, the dew blessed it and gave it the powers to cleanse and wipe away illnesses, fevers and other ailments. According to Ethel, in addition to being a strong healer itself, the handkerchief would protect the collected herbs' properties when laid on the bottom of a basket used to gather the herbs. Both Mary and her mother each had a designated basket for amassing their medicines and spread a fresh white handkerchief on the bottom of their basket each Easter to bring luck and safety to their foraging trips throughout the year.
Back in the heart of Oakley, the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon now as it has been several hours since the baby's birth. Bonnie's fever still staying high was a concern to Mary as she left the bedroom to go into the kitchen. A bowl of water was still left on a cabinet top, saving her from going downstairs and out back of the store to collect more from a pump.
Mary poured some water into a kettle and set it on the wood stove to boil. Out of the kitchen window, she could see town people moving about, starting their day. A wagon had pulled up to the post office and a man jumped down with a letter in his hand. People would surely be coming to Wells Mercantile soon for groceries, but Leon was still up in the living quarters, attending to his sick wife.
"I need to tell him to get on down to the store," Mary thought, knowing full well she needed to stay behind and take care of Bonnie and the baby. The water had come to a boil as Mary grabbed a coffee mug out of a bowl with clean dishes in it. She took the dried Ash bark and crumpled it on the bottom of the mug, pouring boiling water over it. She covered the drink with a saucer and let it steep several minutes before taking it back to the sick room.
"Leon, you need to go down to the store. The sun is risin' and people are startin' to scatter about. You're sure to get some customers soon. I'll stay up here with Bonnie and the kids," Mary instructed with a sigh of fatigue herself.
The midwife took the cup of Ash Bark Tea to her patient and told her to sip it slowly. Bonnie rose up with a pained face and put the tonic to her lips, laboriously taking a sip of the concoction.
"You just keep a-sippin' on this, and soon you'll be all better and takin' care of that baby, sure enough," Mary sat beside Bonnie on the bed, drying up her forehead with a cloth soaked in cold water.
***
The bell on the front door to Wells Mercantile sounded as Hannah listened to Leon recount the story of Eliza's birth. A tall man in a three-piece suit entered the store, taking off his hat to reveal a head of short, black hair, parted to the right. Hannah has never seen this man in town before, truth be told, she has never seen a man in a suit and a cravat on the streets of Oakley Creek in her entire life. The pastor of their small church was the closest to a smartly dressed man in whose presence she has ever been, wearing a white shirt, black pants and a matching black jacket. But, a three-piece suit with a cravat, of all things? No, Hannah has never seen that. She looked the man up and down, staring at his domineering stature and quite handsome face. Surprise filled Hannah's head because finding a man attractive was definitely a new phenomenon for her. Even though she has attended town get-togethers in the past, she never really considered any boy who had asked her to dance as a potential suitor. Most of her friends had married three years prior and already had multiple kids by this time in their lives. But, not Hannah. No, she was still single and living at home, never having seriously courted anyone at the ripe age of 17. The townspeople and, frankly, her own mother, were beginning to wonder if she ever would marry or just become an old maid and stay on in the Maxfield cabin to take care of her parents in their later years. Frank never gave a second thought to the idea of his only daughter becoming a spinster, as he would be overjoyed to have her live out all of her days on the family farm, first with her parents and then with her oldest brother, Joseph and his family, who would surely continue the tradition of settling on family land.
This man, however, was different for a reason she could not yet ascertain. Maybe it was because he was not a boy like the ones she had played catch with in the holler, but a man, as the slight shadow of whiskers on his cheeks and a prominent jaw made perfectly clear. Or, maybe because he appeared intelligent and sophisticated in the fancy garments he was wearing to a local store. Was it because his round brown eyes hinted at an interesting personality, but not one that was easily revealed to people he just met? Yes, that was it: Hannah thought this striking creature was someone about whom she would like to know more, someone who could possibly teach her the ways of the world, that there was more to the Universe than isolated mountain towns where everyone knew each other and the details of their daily lives.
Leon's voice from behind the counter shook Hannah back to present moment at which her eyes met the visitor's, making her stomach jump and her cheeks redden, driving her to quickly look down at her hands.
"Can I help you, Dr. Nelson?"
"Just looking at your offerings, thank you, Mr. Wells," replied the apparent Dr. Nelson, his eyes squinting but not looking at Leon, only squarely at Hannah, with a slight smirk on his lips. Mr. Wells, realizing himself the host, felt obligated to introduce Hannah to Dr. Nelson. "Dr. Nelson, this is Hannah Maxfield, Frank Maxfield's daughter, a farmer in the holler."
"Dr. Edward Nelson, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Maxfield, is it?" Edward stepped forward with his right hand outstretched. Hannah could feel electricity pulse through her body, yet another new feeling she had come to know in the rather short time she was in the presence of Edward. She has seen her father shake hands with his friends and other men before, but no grown man has ever offered her his hand upon a first meeting. People in Oakley greeted each other with nods and waves, especially girls and boys; so, the inexperienced girl was not used to having physical contact with anyone, short of the touching that occurred during horseplay between she and her friends.
"Nice to meet you, too, Dr. Nelson," Hannah replied sheepishly, looking down at Edward's hand, still extended for her to shake. She swallowed hard and raised her own hand slowly to place it in his. He raised his left eyebrow and continued the subdued smile he had on his lips from the time he came into the building. Her mouth agape at having her hand held by this striking and mysterious mere stranger, Hannah pulled her right hand out of his and massaged it with her left, still feeling his fingers against her palm.
Leon broke the awkward moment by telling Edward Hannah's mother, Mary, was a local midwife who had helped his wife, Bonnie, deliver their daughter, Eliza. Dr. Nelson took a deep inhale as Leon plied a shorter version of the birth story once again, the young doctor realizing the store keeper would share his tale with anyone inclined to listen.
"Well, in the future, I do hope you will call upon a properly trained professional, such as myself or my Uncle, Dr. Thompson. I do understand that Uncle was away at your time of need, but now this town is lucky enough to have two doctors, instead of healing women who use trees as medicines," when he said, healing women, Edward put up the peace fingers of both hands, mimicking quotation marks around the words.
"No offense meant to you, of course, Miss Maxfield. I'm sure your mother's knowledge of herbs and...things is very beneficial to some folks around here, but I hope more people will rely upon science in the future. Good day to the both of you," said Edward as he turned towards the front door once again, leaving Hannah and Leon in amazement of his dismissiveness of Mary's miraculous deeds that took place a just few, short weeks ago.