Chapter 10

Friday evening, the first of May, Melody found herself sitting across the table from Dr. Leonard Smith. The man talked incessantly about his service during the War between the States and his practice after the war. She knew from what he had said that he was thirty-eight years old, hailed from Pennsylvania originally, and he'd come west after hearing doctors were scarce in the area.

When the waiter came, Melody was more than ready to order, but to her surprise the doctor insisted on ordering for them both.

"We'll have the lamb, cooked well, and the mixed vegetables. Also bring us bread but no butter." Dr. Smith handed the man the chalked menu board they'd been given to consider. "And we will both have hot tea." He glanced at Melody. "Stimulates digestion."

She nodded, not knowing what else to do. She hadn't planned on having any of the things he had ordered but, thankfully, knew she could live with his choices. At least it wasn't liver.

"Now, where was I?" he asked.

Melody opened her mouth to speak, but Dr. Smith quickly continued. He repeated something he'd said earlier about amputations being the bigger part of his surgeries during the war and continued by explaining that, here in the West, there was a pleasant enough absence of them.

"I've not had to remove an arm or leg—not even a foot—in some time. Although I do not have any difficulty with amputations. In fact, they can be quite fascinating. You have to make certain to tie off all of the blood vessels, and the arterial flow is of the utmost importance. If you damage the artery and veins that return the blood to the heart, the patient will not live. He will most likely see the death of tissue, which will spread up the remaining limb.

"However, as I mentioned, there aren't a lot of amputation cases here." He fixed Melody with a smile. "Which allows me time to seek out a mate. Something I've long needed. After all, I intend to have at least four children. Do you have regular cycles?"

Melody was stunned by this very personal question. "I beg your pardon?"

He gave her a brief wave of his hand. "I am rather forward, I'll admit. But as a physician I am used to seeing the body and its functions as less than a private or even intimate matter. It's important to your fertility that you have regular monthly cycles. Do you?"

Melody nodded, still unable to say what she was really thinking.

"That's good to know. I would imagine that you are quite fertile, then. I have no reason to believe that I'm less than capable of producing heirs, and so that much is established. Is your general health good? No night sweats or fainting spells?"

"Fainting at night?" Melody clarified.

He frowned. "Or during the day."

She had never received such an interrogation. "No. No fainting or sweating."

"No sweating at all?"

She couldn't help but giggle. "When I work hard, I sweat. Goodness, Dr. Smith, I feel like I'm enduring a physical examination."

"Not yet, but that would be wise before marrying."

She rolled her gaze heavenward. The beautiful copper-plated ceiling tiles caused her to point upward. "Lovely ceiling, isn't it?"

The doctor glanced upward for a moment and then back to the table. For once, he said nothing, and Melody breathed a sigh of relief. She wouldn't be marrying Dr. Leonard Smith. Although if she needed something amputated, he would be the first one she'd call on.

On Saturday evening, Melody was introduced by her father to Samuel Sullivan, a twenty-eight-year-old Irishman with gray-blue eyes that seemed to take in everything at once.

"Samuel works for me," Da explained. "I've known him since Omaha, and he's a good man."

Melody extended her hand, and Samuel bowed over it. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Melody."

"And I'm pleased to meet you, Samuel."

"Just Sam." His eyes seemed to twinkle. "Or folks close to me call me Sammy."

"I like that."

He smiled at this, then turned to her father. "And how is it going with you, sir?"

"Well enough, Sam, well enough. I hope to be back with ya, once I have me daughter settled." Da turned to her. "Sam was workin' as one of my section hands, but he's accepted a position with the railroad that will keep him right here in Cheyenne."

"How nice. What will you be working at, Sam?"

"I'll be working in the shop. I'm learning to make repairs and replace parts when they wear out. I've been saving my money and intend to build a house. I've already bought the lot. Got it at a discount from the UP."

"How nice." Melody liked the man well enough for a first-time encounter.

"Well, go on with ya now. Sam wants to be takin' ya to one of Professor McDaniel's shows. Hamlet, didn't ya say?"

Melody had heard of the Shakespeare play but had never seen it. "How very unexpected. I will look forward to that."

It was the first time Sam looked a little uncomfortable. "I hope you like it. I've never been to a play, but one of the boys said women like that sort of thing."

"We shall explore the matter together, then," Melody replied. "Shakespeare is quite popular, but I have never attended such a performance, although I did hear a couple of his plays read to us in school."

With that, they made their way to McDaniel's and, after purchasing their tickets, entered the variety hall and took their seats. The entire room was soon filled, with every seat taken and a couple dozen people standing around the back of the room.

Once the play began, Melody found herself caught up in the story. The actors were quite good at their roles, and the costumes captivated her. The performance was like nothing she'd ever seen.

She glanced over at Sam, who seemed only slightly interested in the tale of murder and revenge. By the end of the first act, Sam was soundly asleep, and while Melody found herself wanting to see the play, she gave Sam's arm a pat.

He stirred and opened his eyes. "Oh, sorry. I worked hard today."

"Why don't we just leave. We can go ahead to supper as you planned and then head home."

He nodded without even a pretense of argument. He helped her from her seat, then led the way out. Melody gave one backward glance toward the stage. Maybe someday she'd have a chance to see Hamlet through to the end. She very much hoped the young man was able to find justice.

Outside, the skies were still light and people plentiful. Sam gave her an apologetic look. "I didn't mean to fall asleep like that."

"It's not a problem. I know railroad work takes a lot out of a man. Da always came home on Saturday ready for rest."

"I sure hope he'll start feeling better, but..."

His words stopped, and Melody gave him a quizzical look. "But what?"

Sam pushed his hands deep into his pockets. "Well, some of the boys are worried that he's worse off than he lets on. Maybe really sick."

"Why would you say that?"

He shrugged and kept walking. "Just the way he's been. A couple of the fellas talked to him when he came to see the railroad doc. They said he didn't look good at all, and they wondered if maybe ... well, they wondered if he hurt himself worse than they thought when he fell."

Melody couldn't imagine that was the case. "Da is doing good. He's still enduring some pain, but he's much better. I'm sure he'll be rejoining his team soon. June first is what he's told me."

Sam seemed relieved. "I hope you're right. We'd hate to lose him. He's a good one. I wish he'd settle down here in Cheyenne so I could still be around him. He's taught me a lot."

"Has he now?" Melody laughed. "He's taught me a great deal too. I suppose we have that in common."

"I reckon we have a lot in common, Miss Melody, but maybe just as important is how I've admired you for a long time. I think you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, and your reputation for kindness is well-known. Everybody who works with your da knows you're a good cook. We've always enjoyed it when your da brings in your cookies or handpies. You're really quite the gal."

She sobered for a moment. "If that's how you feel, why didn't you seek to court me prior to Da's announcement?"

He chuckled. "Your da told us back in Omaha that you were off-limits."

Melody shook her head. "That sounds like him. But that was then, and this is now."

"Look, I didn't speak about his health to worry you. I hope you won't say anything to him about it."

"Of course not."

Melody could see the concern in his expression. Maybe the poor man feared losing his position, but Da wasn't that petty regarding a man speaking his opinion. On the other hand, there was the tiniest nagging doubt in the back of her mind. What if Sam was right, and Da was worse than he let on?

Monday was as fair a day as Melody had seen that year. She arrived at the Coopers' with sunlight dawning on the horizon. Da had only come halfway with her because they met up with Edward Vogel on his deputy marshal rounds. Edward had offered to walk her the rest of the way, and Da hadn't even offered a reason why he shouldn't. It wasn't like Da to hand over his responsibilities to someone else, even in something as simple as escorting Melody to her job. Still, she tried not to let it worry her. Maybe Da had plans and needed to get back to the tent.

After tying on her apron, she went to work in the kitchen scrambling eggs and making coffee. Mrs. Cooper was busy frying up bacon and chatting about the church bake sale they were soon to have. They had definitely fallen into an easy partnership.

"If we keep having the sales, we'll have money for a church before we know it."

"It'd be lovely to have our own place of worship," Melody agreed. "And to have services during the day instead of at night."

"So many churches share the school. Did you hear that the men were joshing about having a prizefight to raise money? I guess so much money changed hands at the fights last week that it caught their attention. They said it in jest, but it is rather startling that good men would bet money on other men beating each other to a pulp."

"Yes. It's never been of interest to me, but Da seems to enjoy a good fight."

"How is your father? He looked quite pale on Sunday."

It was yet another reference to her father being ill rather than just injured. "I believe he's doing all right. The pain sometimes gets to be a bit much. I have encouraged him to go back to the doctor and see if something more needs to be done for his back."

Mrs. Cooper met Melody's gaze. "I hope—pray, really—that it's nothing serious."

"Of course not. I don't think there's anything to worry about."

But throughout the day, Melody couldn't let the matter go. She left on her noon break and headed home just to see how Da was faring. If he was ill, she would surely see signs of it. She was a block away from their little tent community when she spied her father on the street. He was walking quite slowly but with great determination. She decided to follow him and was surprised when he made his way to the bank.

She didn't follow him in but headed back to the Coopers', wondering what he'd been doing. Da hadn't said anything more about his brother sending money from Ireland, but she guessed that this was probably the reason he was at the bank. He had told her he was determined to get the transfer set up and money safely deposited before heading west with the railroad. It would make sense if that was what he was up to now. The fact that he was banking for himself convinced Melody that her worries were for naught. Da wouldn't have bothered if he'd been feeling poorly.

Later in the day, Melody went to the garden plot to check things out. There wouldn't be any signs of growth just yet, but she couldn't help reviewing the work that had been done and plan for the next tasks. Mr. Cooper had ordered more plants, as well as two apple trees from a nursery in North Platte. Seeing she could do nothing more, Melody figured it was time to head home.

"Melody, Melody, never contrary. How does your garden grow?" Charlie teased, his smile lighting up his entire face.

"It's too early to tell." She got up from where she'd been kneeling. "How are you doing today, Charlie?"

"Quite well. Tell me, have you had any more suitors?"

"I did. An obnoxious doctor and a sweet railroad worker." She began gathering her gardening tools.

"And?"

She glanced at Charlie, who seemed completely interested in what she might have to say. "And nothing. The doctor ordered my dinner for me because, as he told me later, he knew best what I needed to eat. He talked nonstop about his work during the war, and I'm not completely sure, but I believe he's dreadfully sorry that more amputations aren't needed here in Cheyenne."

Charlie's eyes widened. "Amputations?"

She nodded. "Apparently, there was a wealth of them to be done during the war, and now he finds the task missing in his daily duties." She couldn't refrain from laughing. "In the absence of amputations, he's looking for a wife."

"I can't believe the man would speak of such things while courting."

"That and even more. It's a good thing I'm not easily embarrassed or offended."

"Maybe that was part of his testing for a wife."

Melody hadn't considered that. "Maybe so. Anyway, after the good doctor, I went out with one of Da's railroad workers, Sammy Sullivan. An Irishman who has taken a job here in Cheyenne at the UP warehouse. He took me to see Hamlet."

"Oh, a wonderful play. What did you think?"

"We only made it through act one, but I would like to see it through to the end someday. Sam fell asleep, and I took pity on him. We left and went to dinner, then returned to the tent, where we found Da already asleep. We said goodnight, and Sam went home to bed while I tidied up and wondered how poor Hamlet was going to prove his father was murdered."

"I'll take you to the play one of these evenings when you aren't seeing anyone else. It's really a very good play. Lots of intrigue, and I think you'd like it very much."

"Thank you, Charlie. It'd be nice to just enjoy an outing without worrying about interviewing a husband."

He smiled and bent down to adjust the wooden stake Melody had used to mark the new row of squash she'd planted.

"Did Da come to the bank today?" She hoped Charlie might give her insight as to why her father had visited him.

"He did. Came in while Jefferson was gone to lunch. We had a nice discussion about the town and railroad. I enjoy talking with your father. He's quite knowledgeable."

"Yes, for an uneducated man, he can definitely hold his own."

"How much schooling has he had?" Charlie asked.

Melody carried her things to the gardening shed. "He quit after sixth grade. He was a troublemaker and not at all interested in what they had to teach. Da got himself into a world of trouble after leaving school. He took up smoking and drinking, but most of all he loved fighting. Only God was able to pull him back from the dark path he'd taken himself down."

"He plays a good game of checkers, I must say."

This surprised her. "When did you play checkers with Da?" she asked over her shoulder before going back to securing her things in the shed.

Charlie leaned against the door frame and laughed. "A fella should have some secrets, shouldn't he?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry." She laughed. "But I did suggest it. Remember?"

"I do, and he was quite receptive. And I lost graciously."

"You didn't lose on purpose, did you? Da hates when people do things like that."

"No, he beat me fair and square, although it was close. He said I was a worthy challenger."

Melody turned to face him. "That's high praise coming from Da. Sometimes he finds it difficult to find someone willing to go up against him. I suppose they fear him more than desire a relaxing game. Da can be imposing, as you well know. I can play when Da is desperate for a game—and I'm pretty good—but it's not my favorite thing. I prefer reading a good book."

"I enjoy that myself. What do you like to read?"

"Almost anything. I've enjoyed fictionalized stories, as well as biographies of great men and women. I very much like to read about faraway places, and if there are illustrations, then all the better. I do hope we get a library in Cheyenne one day. I positively love libraries."

"I do as well. I could lose myself for hours in the library back home."

"What do you like to read, Charlie?"

"Geography has long been a favorite subject of mine. Geography stirs up images of places and that leads to events and history. It's all very captivating."

"Would you like to teach geography and history?"

Charlie sobered. "I'd like to teach most anything. I enjoy sharing knowledge, as well as gaining it. There is something quite satisfactory in teaching what I know."

"Some of my favorite people in the world were those who taught me in school," Melody said. "When I was in first grade, I attended a school with two teachers: a man and a woman. The woman was Miss Merriweather. She was always so happy and encouraging. She taught all of the regular subjects, but then went so far as to teach us about proper manners and etiquette. She was there the next year as well, and I learned so much about how to speak properly. It's always amazing to me how little things like that can make such a big difference."

"Indeed. Proper manners and social training are acquired skills that will take you far."

"If you had your own school, would you teach such subjects?"

"I would," he replied most enthusiastically. "I find it's often neglected in a boy's upbringing. And out here, it might be especially relevant. Maybe save someone from getting a punch in the nose." His grin was infectious.

Melody laughed. "I believe you would make an excellent teacher, Charlie. You have a sense of humanity and a lightness of spirit that naturally draws folks to you."

"You're kind to say so. Hopefully, one day I will find a way to make my dreams come true."

"God has a plan, Charlie. Da always says that those good things we long for are the desires that God has put in our hearts. Trust Him to know what to do with your dream. If God gave it life, He'll be good to grow it to fruition."

Charlie thought of her words that night as he readied for bed. He found her faith and wisdom to be exactly what he needed. Her encouragement was reassuring that he was finally on the right path. Including his growing desire to court and marry her.

It had all happened so fast, however. And he was still somewhat stunned by the fact that Melody's father had been the one to come to him. But Clancy had no doubts that God had chosen him for his daughter's husband, and he spoke with such conviction that Charlie had no doubts either.

He smiled at the thought of Melody's sweet expressions. The way her eyes would widen just a bit when she found something to be a wonder. Of late, he'd even begun to imagine what it would be like to take her in his arms ... to kiss her.

A sigh escaped his lips as he closed his eyes. He could see her smiling back at him. Reaching for him.

Friendship first, Charlie. Friendship first, then romance.