Cherry Ames 22 Rural Nurse (6 page)

“He works at odd hours, whenever they need him.

He won’t tell me
exactly
about his hours, or his pay,” his mother said. “All he says is—you heard that parrot—‘none of your business.’ Ah, well. Maybe I expect too much of Floyd.”

“Maybe he’ll tell you of his own accord, in his own good time,” Cherry said.

“Let’s hope so.”

“Maybe Floyd’s improving,” Jane said from the doorway. She stood there leaning on her crutches, sleepy and smiling. “Hello, everybody.”

“Ah, come on, Ma!” the parrot squawked in answer.

“None of your business! Polly want a cracker?” They all laughed and Mrs. Barker removed the cover from the cage. Mike kept up garbled comments while Cherry checked Jane’s cast and her general health.

“You and the ankle are coming along nicely,” Cherry said. “At this rate you’ll soon be well enough to drive over to see your farm.”

“Oh, how soon can you take me?” Jane begged.

“Floyd says he’ll drive me there, but he keeps putting it off.”

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47

“Maybe Saturday morning,” Cherry promised. Then she said, “Hello! Hello!” for the parrot’s benefi t and left.Once during this fi rst week on her own, Cherry got lost, but the postman came along in his truck and led her part way. On another day her car ran out of gas.

Two schoolboys on bicycles brought her a fi ve gallon can of gas.

Twice during that fi rst week Cherry’s nursing calls took her driving past the abandoned farm. She had not paid any special attention to it until now, and thought Jane was going to be discouraged when she saw it. The farm was small, scrubby, gone to seed. Its farthest acres faced on the Missouri River, with Missouri on the opposite shore. The land could be cleared, but the rickety farmhouse was in bad condition. Its second story had been charred by fi re and the upstairs windows were broken. However, Cherry thought the stone founda-tion appeared to be sound, and the downstairs rooms might not have been touched by fi re. She remembered a promise she and Hal had made to Jane—to inquire, as they visited patients, about which local people could make repairs.

One of her pleasantest calls turned out to be at the Swaybill farm. They lived in a big, comfortable house sheltered by oak trees. As Cherry drove into their roadway, she saw a shabby old man at their door, selling something in a basket. Cherry guessed he must be a local pedlar; he was a sorry contrast to the professional Watkins Company salesman.

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CHERRY

AMES,

RURAL

NURSE

As she came up on the long porch, she was curious to see what he had in his basket. It looked like an assortment of small articles. But the pedlar hast-ily concluded the sale with the person at the door, then slipped away along a side porch. He climbed into an old car and drove away. Cherry had an impression that he was avoiding her. Or was he just in a hurry?

Cherry put the pedlar out of her mind when she met the lively Swaybill family. The father and the hired man were working out in the barn, but here in the house were The Big Kids, Clyde and Marge, who were high school students, and The Little Kids, Burt and Betsy, aged six and eight. The entire delegation escorted Cherry upstairs to their mother’s room.

Mrs. Amy Swaybill was supposed to be resting.

Actually she was up and dressed and shakily hanging curtains. Cherry was horrifi ed, and after introducing herself, stopped her.

“For a person with a heart condition, reaching up is a strain. And you have a sore throat, too. Please lie down now, Mrs. Swaybill.”

“Well, I know the doctor would say so, too.” Mrs.

Swaybill cooperatively went over to the bed. She was a plump, rosy-faced, cheerful woman. Only her slow, weak movements showed that she had developed a chronic heart defect.

“I’m always tired,” she told Cherry. “I’m always trying new tonics and remedies in the hopes that they’ll build me up. Is there anything you can recommend?”

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49

Cherry sat down facing Mrs. Swaybill. “Yes, I recommend that when the doctor tells you to rest, you really follow his advice. Can’t Marge or Clyde hang those curtains for you?”

Cherry talked further with Amy Swaybill on this subject. It became clear that her family was rather thought-less as far as Mother was concerned. Mother had always done everything for them, and it never occurred to the family to do something for Mother.

“Besides, Miss Ames, I
like
to do for my family! I’ve always been an active wife and mother. Marge didn’t ask me to wash out her best sweater, I offered to—and anyway, Marge does help with the housework.” Cherry saw that she would have to educate the family about the seriousness of allowing Mrs. Swaybill to overtax herself. Amy Swaybill’s family could keep her well and out of the hospital.

“Now let’s see that sore throat,” Cherry said, opening her bag.

She put on her coverall apron, washed her hands, and using a sterile wooden tongue depressor, examined the woman’s throat. Cherry was suspicious of what she saw; this might mean a septic sore throat or even diphtheria. Both infections were serious and communicable. This
might
be an epidemic in the making. All Cherry said, however, was:

“Open a little wider, please, so that I can take a throat swab.” She would ask Dr. Hal to send it to the hospital laboratory in Iowa City for culture and examination.

“That’s good, Mrs. Swaybill. You’re a very good patient.” 50
CHERRY

AMES,

RURAL

NURSE

Mrs. Swaybill liked Cherry, too, judging from the way she smiled back at her. “You’re so quick and gentle, Miss Ames. I wish you’d have a look at the little kids’

throats while you’re here.”

“Yes, I plan to.”

Cherry went downstairs and asked Clyde to bring his father and the hired man, Will Hansen, in from the barn. The two men in overalls came in, wiping their hands and faces. Cherry examined everyone’s throat.

No one but the mother had any infection, she found.

She explained about keeping Mrs. Swaybill’s dishes separate, and stressed to the family the necessity for giving her more help. The family members listened, half ashamed, eager to do better.

As Cherry got into her car, Amy Swaybill leaned out of her upstairs window. She called weakly:

“Thanks ever so much. Come back soon and stay for supper. There’s a new remedy I meant to ask you about—they say it’s—” Her words were lost in a rush of wind through the oak trees.

Cherry waved. “You rest, now, or I’ll have to tell the doctor about you.”

Cherry had a much less pleasant experience when the couple who kept a crossroads grocery store hailed her. They reported an accident at the Hummer place.

Cherry drove over at once.

Jacob Hummer and his wife were dour people.

Their fi rst question to the nurse was: “Do we have to pay you?”

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51

“My services are free to anyone who can’t afford to pay. Let’s discuss that later. Let me see your hand, please.”

Mr. Hummer looked pale and sweaty. Cherry unwrapped the homemade bandage and found he had a deep cut. Any cut was serious, because it allowed germs to enter the body and cause infection.

“Mr. Hummer, a doctor should treat this wound at once.” Cherry explained why. “Who is your family doctor?”

“We don’t go to any doctors,” Jacob Hummer said.

“We don’t hold with too much doctoring. Nature takes care of everything.”

‘‘Self indulgence, to run to a doctor with every ailment!” said his wife. “Needless expense.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Hummer,” Cherry insisted, “every hour that you neglect this wound, the infection can grow worse. You may be lucky and recover without a doctor’s care, or you may not. Let me call a doctor.” For it was her responsibility as county nurse to decide when to call a doctor.

“Will he charge us?” Jacob Hummer asked suspiciously.

From the looks of their farm, the Hummers were probably well able to pay. “Wouldn’t paying a small fee be better than possibly getting sick and losing working time?” Cherry asked.

“We ain’t throwing away money,” Jacob Hummer insisted.

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CHERRY

AMES,

RURAL

NURSE

Mrs. Hummer angrily told Cherry, “My husband is a very strong man. Nature will heal him. I’m sorry now we called you, if you aim to scare us.” Jacob Hummer held out his torn hand. “You want to treat it for me? Or else I can treat it myself.” Cherry stopped arguing. He did seem to be an unusually strong man. She washed her hands, took out her nursing supplies, and cleansed the wound. She did not see any immediate signs of infection, but these might not be visible yet. She applied a sterile dressing and clean bandage, then took Jacob Hummer’s temperature, pulse, and respiration. These were higher than was normal—a danger signal. Cherry said so.

Mrs. Hummer said, “I’ll fi x my husband some good strong beef broth and some herb tea. He’ll get extra sleep and be all right.” The woman squeezed out a smile.

“Ah—thanks, Nurse.”

“Thanks,” said Jacob Hummer. They did not ask her to return.

What a climax to the week’s work! Cherry tried to cheer herself up by thinking of her more cooperative patients: Grandpa Bufford, Dot Reed, Mrs. Swaybill and her family, and especially Jane Fraser.

Yet, of all the people she had met this fi rst week as rural nurse, Floyd Barker stood out in her mind. Why?

She did not fi nd him particularly interesting in any way. Cherry could not understand why Floyd Barker had made such a forcible impression on her.

c h a p t e r v

A Curious Emergency

on saturday morning cherry had a date with jane Fraser. This was the day they were to visit the abandoned farm which Jane had inherited.

“You brought a beautiful day with you,” Jane greeted Cherry at the door of the Barker cottage.

“Good morning! You look stronger today,” Cherry said. She waited for a garbled echo, but for once the parrot was asleep. The house was quiet. “Where is Mrs. Barker? Gardening?”

“She left bright and early to help a neighbor with some baking,” Jane said. “There’s going to be a potluck supper, a community supper, tomorrow evening to raise funds for the church. All the women are contributing food. If I weren’t so clumsy with these crutches, I’d like to go.”

“I heard you!” Floyd called, and came in from outdoors chewing on an apple. “Good morning, young ladies.” 53

54
CHERRY

AMES,

RURAL

NURSE

He stuck the apple core in the parrot’s cage. “You two going over to the old farm this morning?” he asked.

They said yes. “Well, don’t get your hopes up, Jane. That land’s been farmed until it’s worn out. And the house!

It’s only fi t for mice and bats to live in, not people.” Jane said indignantly, “I wish you’d stop trying to discourage me.”

Floyd wrinkled his forehead. “I’m only telling you facts. I heard the main water pipe is busted. The roof’s ready to cave in. Place ain’t worth any repairs. Best thing you could do is sell it.”

“Please stop interfering!” Jane was growing annoyed.

“I don’t care what you say, I’m going to try to move in there.”

Floyd turned to Cherry. “Miss Cherry, maybe
you’ll
listen to me. At least don’t go inside the house. Ever since the fi re there three years ago, that house is ready to cave in. Be careful.”

Cherry nodded and held the screen door open for Jane. As she did so, a framed sampler on the wall caught her eye. Cherry had not noticed it before. It was embroidered in various, faded colors and was dated 1851. It read:

If wisdom’s ways you truly seek,
Five things observe with care:
Of whom you speak, to whom you speak,
And how and when and where.

The warning on Mrs. Barker’s wall made Cherry uneasy as if a voice were cautioning her. But that was foolish…

A CURIOUS EMERGENCY

55

The drive to the abandoned farm took them along the river road. They passed Riverside Park, passed the woods, and turned into the roadway of the old farm or what was left of the private road—it was so thick with weeds that Cherry slowed the car down to a crawl.

She drove halfway to the rickety house, which was as close as she could get, parked, and they got out. Even with the sun shining, even with blue sky and blue river, this old place was depressing.

“What a shambles!” Jane exclaimed. “Maybe Floyd is right. I wouldn’t know where to begin fi rst to make this place livable.”

“Don’t let Floyd discourage you,” Cherry said.

“Let’s explore, shall we?” Jane said. “I know it’s dangerous on crutches, but I must have a look.”

“Well, at least let me go fi rst,” Cherry said.

Cherry went ahead, picking her way, clearing a path as best she could for Jane. The farm grounds were larger than they looked to be from the highway. Half buried by the dense weeds, many other things were growing wild here—tall grasses, goldenrod, haw berries. Bees buzzed around a few gnarled fruit trees and shade trees. Birds swooped from tree to tree, and a bullfrog sang from some pond.

“It’s kind of pretty here,” Jane said. “At least it’s an outdoors place for Bill to live.” Cherry scooped up a handful of earth. It was fragrant, rich black, moist, and fi rm to the touch. “This soil doesn’t look worn out to me,” Cherry said. “What a variety of things grow here! I recognize most of them. Do you?” 56
CHERRY

AMES,

RURAL

NURSE

“Not many. I’m a city girl,” Jane said. “Isn’t that Indian corn, growing wild?”

As they slowly walked nearer to the house, they came to large patches of a leafy plant. Neither had ever seen this plant before. Growing untended, it had spread until it surrounded the house.

“There certainly is a lot of it,” Jane said. “What is it?”

“I wonder,” and Cherry stooped to take a closer look.

“It looks like a sturdy woodland plant.” It grew close to the ground, springing up as tall as twenty inches. Its stalks were covered with several fi ve-leaf clusters and bright crimson berries. Cherry was curious enough to pull up a plant or two. The roots were about as thick as her little fi nger, three or four inches long, brittle, almost transparent—and, oddly enough, forked.