The Montana Doctor's Bride (New Brides of Montana) Read online

  Susan Leigh Carlton about 25,000 words

  Tomball, TX

  [email protected]

  The Montana Doctor’s Bride

  New Brides of Montana Series

  by

  Susan Leigh Carlton

  Description

  Carter Palmer was a young doctor fresh out of Georgetown University Medical School in Georgetown and a resident program less than two years when the Civil War broke out in 1861. He decided the Army of the Potomac, a division of the Union Army would offer him more experience in the expected short duration of the war than he would gain in several years of civilian practice. He left his new, young bride in Rockville and went off to war. He was proven right in one respect, he did gain an extensive amount of surgical experience in a very short time. The war was not over in the expected short time frame, however. It lasted four bloody, horrific years and he was there for all of it.

  One thing kept him going those four years… the thought of returning to Rockville, Maryland and his beloved Lucy. He had not known when he would arrive, so he was not surprised when she was not at the station to greet him when he got off the train. He made his way to their home on Shady Grove Road, where he found a yard overgrown with weeds, the paint on the exterior peeling, and a musty smell inside. There was no sign of the house having been occupied in quite some time.

  He went next door to ask Elizabeth Cartwright, Lucy’s best friend, if she knew where Lucy was. When Elizabeth told him Lucy had died more than a year previously from small pox, he was devastated. Elizabeth told him there had been no way to notify him since the Army had listed him as killed in action.

  He could not get past the loss of Lucy, coupled with the haunting memories of the many men who had died on his operating table. It was too much at once. He decided he had to get far away from Rockville. Helena, Montana was chosen as his refuge.

  He kept corresponding with Elizabeth after his arrival in Helena. After he found himself working as a contract surgeon for the Cavalry in a campaign called Red Cloud’s War, he found he was lonelier than before, and that he missed Elizabeth. He asked her to come to Montana and marry him. She rejected his proposal. Twice. Read on to discover the astonishing reason behind the rejection…

  Prologue

  April 8, 1865, Appomattox Station, Virginia…

  With his white smock covered with blood from a series of amputations, Dr. Carter Palmer, a regimental surgeon in the Union Army of the Potomac stepped outside the surgical tent serving as a field hospital. From a pocket in his smock, he retrieved what had been a white handkerchief and wiped his forehead.

  “I have seen enough blood today, to last a lifetime,” he told his assistant, Percival Smythe. “This war against fellow Americans needs to end, while some of us are left alive. We are a crippled nation, and vulnerable to anyone for the taking.”

  Carter’s wish came true; General Robert E. Lee surrendered at Appomattox Courthouse the next day. It was over. Jubilation reigned. “Now, I can go home to Lucy,” the good doctor said.

  It took three weeks for him to reach the point in his patient’s care where he could be released from the Army and to make his way back to Rockville and his beloved Lucy.

  His joy was short-lived when he learned of the tragedies of home.

  Chapter 1: Lucy’s Gone

  The band, consisting of old men, was playing enthusiastically, if not very well, when the train pulled into the station in Rockville, Maryland.

  The crowd cheered when the passengers, most of whom were soldiers, began disembarking from the train. Pushing his way through the crowd, he searched for the one face he wanted to see. It was not there. He was not overly surprised, since he hadn’t had any idea about his arrival time or date, when he wrote the last letter from Virginia. He had no doubt as to the shambles of the American postal system.

  He hurried to his home on Shady Grove Road. He had not been home in over two years and was dismayed to see the condition of the white, colonial home. The paint was peeling, weeds had over run the yard. The gate in the white picket fence sagged open. He went up the steps and onto the unswept front porch. He knocked, not wanting to startle Lucy when he walked in.

  The musty smell of the living room caused his concern to grow. This was not like Lucy. She was a meticulous housekeeper. “Lucy, it’s me. I’m finally home,” he called out. He walked from room to room, finding the same stale smell in each room. There was no sign of recent occupancy. Lucy was not here.

  Alarmed now, he left the house and went next-door, home of Lucy’s best friend, Elizabeth Cartwright. It was answered by a face he recognized as Elizabeth. Her face paled when she recognized him. She looked as if she might faint, and he reached out and steadied her, and led her to a chair. “Carter, we thought you were dead. Your name was listed on the casualty list at the depot as having been killed last year.”

  “Obviously, the reports of my death were exaggerated,” he said lightly. “Do you know where Lucy is?” he asked.

  Her eyes filled with tears, Elizabeth said, “It was small pox, Carter. Even President Lincoln had it. The Army had you listed as dead. If I had known, I would have kept trying to get word to you.

  “She only lasted three weeks. I tried to take care of her, but after the blisters came, she was quarantined. I was there, Carter, she did not die alone. We buried her in Forest Oak Cemetery, where her parents are.”

  He asked her about her husband, “What about Caleb, Elizabeth. Did he survive?”

  “No, he was killed at Spotsylvania,” she answered. “They said it was the longest list ever posted at the depot. Thank God, it is over. We lost so many. Almost an entire generation wiped out.”

  “I apologize for opening old wounds, Elizabeth. I should have waited for you to tell me. It was callous on my part. I waited so long to get home and now there’s nothing for me there” he said.

  “What are you going to do? Will you be setting up an office? There’s plenty of space waiting for you,” she said.

  “After all I’ve seen, and experienced, I don’t know whether I want to go back to doctoring or not. For now, I think I’m just going to rest. Then I’ll clean up the place. Maybe sell it, I don’t know. I’m in shock from all you told me.”

  “I’m sorry, Carter, I tried to…”

  “I know. You did all you could, and I appreciate it. I’m glad you were there to comfort her. Lucy always thought of you as her dearest friend. Thank you again for what you did.”

  He stood, and then nodded. “I’m going home now.”

  Chapter 2: Time To Make A Decision

  Dr. Carter Palmer sat in the musty living room of his house pondering his options. He loved the practice of medicine. His dream became a reality when he graduated from Georgetown in 1859, at the age of twenty-two, after receiving his degree, he spent an apprenticeship in the Washington Infirmary, one of the first hospitals in the nation’s capital.

  When the war broke out in 1861, he was eager to serve, rightly deciding it would be the best place to hone his craft. He discovered there were stringent requirements to meet before he could become a doctor in the Union Army.

  The Army Medical Board required all surgeons to pass an oral and written test to determine their competence in the medical sciences as well as history, geography, literature, philosophy and languages. After a high rate of failure from these examinations, the Secretary of War lowered the requirements significantly. Because of this, the number of competent surgeons rivaled the incompetent, and many of those that served had an alarmingly disparate base of knowledge to wit: There were Army surgeons who lacked the latest knowledge of medical theor
y and technology, and civilian volunteers that were lacking surgical experience. Charges of needless operations performed to perfect surgical skills were made. If a patient’s wound proved uninteresting, they might be abandoned. There were charges of surgeons operating while intoxicated. Eventually, procedures put in place by the Surgeon General of the United States eliminated most of these situations. F

  Therefore, Dr. Carter Palmer, degree in hand, decided the Army Medical Corp was a place he would be able to gain experience unrivaled in any office, or civilian infirmary. He passed the requirements easily, and was admitted into the practice of military medicine. He was not one of those called a “butcher”, a name commonly applied to Army doctors.

  Airing out…

  April is a special time of the year in Rockville, with cool nights and mild days. The trees begin to bud, birds sing in anticipation of the coming day. Carter opened all of the windows to rid the house of the stale, musty air. Linens that had been packed away were fresh and put to use, while those that had been out, were washed, and hung on the line in back to dry. He chose to do the work himself rather than hire help.

  He laid in a supply of wood, brought food from the general store. He was not an accomplished cook, but after the years of army rations, the food he prepared was palatable. At least. It was to him. Elizabeth invited him to dinner on occasion, but he declined most of the invitations. Too many memories of Lucy were recalled when he was around her, causing him much pain.

  He visited the Forest Oak Cemetery gravesite on a weekly basis, each time taking fresh flowers, and keeping it weed free. He commissioned a stonecutter to erect a headstone to mark her final resting place. He would sit for hours by the headstone, talking to Lucy, asking her advice and help in deciding what to do with the rest of his life. Only he knew whether she answered him or not, but he came to a decision.

  “Elizabeth, I want to take care of the burial expenses when Lucy died. Who made the arrangements?”

  “I made all of the arrangements with the undertaker. Since you were thought to be dead, he refused to take any money from me,” she said.

  “I will take care of it then. He needs to be paid for his services,” Carter said.

  “I’m sure he doesn’t expect to be, but it is a good and right thing to do,” she said.

  “I’ll take care of it today.”

  During his service, he dutifully sent his army pay home, most of which was banked by Lucy in the First National Bank of Rockville. Elizabeth had collected all of the mail after Lucy’s death, and it remained unopened. Many of the envelopes contained his military pay. Carter visited the bank after his third week home to inquire on the status of his account with the bank, and to deposit his pay as well.

  The president of the bank, John Hackett, had a small office near the door, and it was here Carter found him. He was unknown to Carter, since he came to the bank after Carter had left for the war. After identifying himself to the banker, and asking for the status of his account, the banker produced a ledger page for the account. The meticulous penmanship revealed a sizable balance, surprising the doctor.

  “I am in the process of deciding whether I will establish my practice here in Rockville or elsewhere. In the event, I decide I want to go elsewhere, could the bank handle the renting of my house and the subsequent disposition?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course, we would be happy to handle that for you. Actually, the bank’s fee for that would be a small percentage of the proceeds. When would you be making that decision?” the banker asked.

  “As I said, I am in the process of deciding now. I will inform you as soon as the decision is made.”

  Chapter 3: Delayed Decision

  The main business area of Rockville showed the results of neglect, while the town’s menfolk had been off to war. Many of the buildings were empty, and the paint was peeling, the boards on the sidewalk were loose and broken.

  He stopped in front of the office of Dr. Jim Gilbride, who had been his mentor prior to his attending Georgetown. Pausing for a minute, debating whether to go in or not, he pushed the door open and walked in. The office appeared empty; he heard noises in the back and called out. “Doc? Jim Gilbride, it’s Carter Palmer. I’d like to talk to you if you have a few minutes. There was the shuffling sound of a chair being moved, and a silver haired man, clad in dark pants, white shirt and tie, and a vest, came through the door. He appeared to be in his late fifties

  “Carter? I thought you were dead. The casualty lists showed you as killed at Chancellorsville, along with so many of our boys,” the doctor said.

  “That’s what Elizabeth Cartwright told me. I was there, and it was horrible. Our field hospital was overwhelmed with the dead and injured, but I made it through. The Confederates pretty much left the doctors and hospitals alone, and even left their wounded with us. It was probably the same on the other side.” As he talked, a sad look came across his face as the memories crowded in. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the horror.

  “Jim, tell me about Lucy,” he said. “How did she die? Elizabeth told me it was smallpox, but that usually isn’t fatal.”

  Doctor Gilbride said, “When Elizabeth came and got me, Lucy already had the lesions and blisters on her face and arms. They had already started suppurating. It was quick for her. I had her clothes and the other things she had been in contact with burned. I know both of you were vaccinated, because I did it myself. Hers must have not taken. Even if I had gotten there earlier, I doubt it would have helped. Since I thought you were dead, I did what I could to keep it from spreading. Elizabeth did what she could also, and was there to the end.

  “What are you going to do, Carter?”

  “I don’t know yet. After all I’ve seen and done, I’m not sure whether I want any more medicine. Truth be told, I’m thinking of selling out and moving out west. The further I can get from these memories the better,” Carter said.

  “None of us have the amount of surgical experience the military doctors got during the war. We could really use a man with that kind of expertise around here. You could help a lot of people,” Jim said.

  “I don’t know if I can do it anymore,” he said. “At Chancellorsville, we had the dead and dying lying on the ground, with nowhere else to put them. We ran out of laudanum and ether at times, and had to use whiskey. When a Minie ball hits a leg, it shatters the bone and there’s no saving it. I’ve done so many amputations, I hear the screaming in my dreams. After a while, I became so calloused, their begging me not to take their leg didn’t bother me. That’s when I became disenchanted with medicine.”

  “What of those you saved? There must have been a lot of them,” Gilbride said.

  “There were, but I remember the ones I lost more. You know, when a boy knew he was dying, he didn’t call for his wife or his papa, his last words almost always for his mama.”

  “Think about those you saved. Take some time, then come in and spend some time with me. If not for you, do it for me and our townsfolk,” Jim said.

  “I’ll think about it, Jim. Thanks for what you did for Lucy. I know you did what you could.” He shook his mentor’s hand, walked back to the street, and headed for the undertaker’s office. As he walked in, the smell of death hit him and he almost left. The tall, gaunt man behind the desk asked, “Yes, sir, have you lost a loved one?”

  “Yes, I have, but it was some time ago, while I was away. I’ve come to pay for your services. I’m Carter Palmer and Lucy was my wife.”

  Opening a desk drawer, the undertaker shuffled through some papers, and held one up. “I have it here. There’s no charge, sir.”

  “There has to be a charge. Mrs. Cartwright said she arranged the services, but didn’t pay you. I insist I pay you. Out of respect and appreciation, I want to pay your normal service fee.”

  “Mr. Palmer, if you insist. The normal charge would be $20.00 but it isn’t necessary.”

  Carter retrieved a $20 gold piece and gave it to the undertaker. “I appreciate what you did. Than
k you.” He left, anxious to get away from the smell of the dead and the haunting memories.

  Elizabeth Cartwright’s house…

  Elizabeth had invited Carter for dinner. It was a welcome respite from his attempts at cooking. “I took care of the undertaker today, Elizabeth. He didn’t want payment, but I insisted. I also stopped in to see Jim Gilbride. We had a nice long talk about Lucy and my plans. That part was a short conversation. I haven’t made any yet.

  “I stopped in at the bank and talked with the president about selling, or renting it out. I have no need for such a place. A room would be sufficient for me,” he said.

  “I could let you have a room here,” Elizabeth said softly.

  “I don’t know if I want to stay in Rockville. I’ve been thinking of going out west and starting over from there.”

  “In medicine?” she asked. “There’s a need for a doctor here.”