Candace McCarthy Read Online Free

here. My name is Allen Whitely. I’m the minister in charge. I can’t tell you how grateful we are that you decided to come to our mission.”
    Amelia studied the young man with surprise. He was the minister?
    “It’s our pleasure to be here,” her father said. “I was pleased to hear from your brother, my good friend James Whitely. He said you needed a doctor, but he wasn’t ready to leave the city yet. He knew I needed a change, so he asked me.”
    Allen smiled. “How is James?”
    “Well, but busy. He’s taking over the care of my patients in Baltimore.”
    “You must be hungry and tired after your journey,” Allen said. “Come and I’ll show you the infirmary and your living quarters.”
    The Reverend Whitely led the way across the yard to a smaller building with an extended roof over the entrance. John Dempsey looked at it approvingly. Amelia was reserving judgment until after she’d seen the inside.
    The interior was dark after entering from outside. As Amelia’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, Allen Whitely proceeded to explain what each room was as they walked through it.
    “This front area is the infirmary. As you can see, there is a small alcove right inside the entrance for waiting patients. This back area,” he said, gesturing as he spoke, “has a cabinet for supplies and two beds for the very ill.”
    Amelia, better able to see, noted the work area and started to envision where she would put her father’s instruments and supplies.
    “Beyond this room, through that door,” Allen said, “is your living area. There are two bedrooms, a small parlor area, and a kitchen/dining area in the very back.” He looked apologetic as he spoke. “It’s not spacious, I’m afraid.”
    “It will do nicely,” Amelia said with a smile. “Thank you.” The young man grinned, relieved.
    “Miriam Lathom, one of our missionaries, can help you when needed. Miriam has some knowledge of the area’s herbs and plant life. If you need a particular ingredient for your medicine, Miriam can find it for you. Also, she understands some of the Chippewa language, and may be able to help you with your Indian patients.
    “To tell you the truth,” he continued, “the Chippewa have a great knowledge and skill of healing, so you may not have many Indian patients. Those who come will do so simply because they are too far from their home for treatment. There is an army fort about a day and a half’s ride from here. It’s likely you will have some patients from there … then, of course, there are those of us who live here at the mission. You are our only source of medical help. You may get problems from everything fromsomething simple like a splinter or insect bite to a more severe injury like a severed arm.”
    John Dempsey nodded and asked a few questions; Amelia barely heard the two men’s conversation as she wandered about the living quarters, envisioning ways to make the starkness of the place more livable.
    “If you need any tools,” the good reverend said, “there is a blacksmith shop about a half hour’s ride from here. Daniel Trahern can make anything you want; he is a skilled craftsman. This mission is filled with hinges, tools, and other articles he made. If you decide you need something made or repaired, let me know, and I’ll send one of my men to take you. There’s a trading post there as well.”
    Amelia’s attention had caught as soon as she’d heard the word blacksmith.
    “Actually, we just came from there,” her father was saying. “We had a problem with our wagon. Mr. Trahern was gracious enough to fix it for us.”
    “Gracious, my foot,” Amelia muttered beneath her breath.
    “Excuse me?” Allen asked.
    Amelia forced a smile. “Nothing really. I’m sure we won’t need a thing.”
    The young man nodded. “Well, after you get settled, you might think differently. I just wanted you to know that we’re not totally isolated out here. We can get supplies and we have the services