The Apprenticeship of Lucas Whitaker by Cynthia DeFelice Read Free Book Online

Mr. Rood had stopped Mercy?
    Maybe it wasn’t too late to save Sarah!
    Doc Beecher sighed and shook his head. “I wish I could give you the answer to your question, Mr. Stukeley. I don’t know what brings on consumption, although I have my theories.”
    â€œTheories,” repeated Mr. Stukeley bitterly. “Will your theories keep my Sarah from harm?”
    Mrs. Stukeley looked at her husband and pleaded, “Lewis, please…” Her voice trailed off.
    Doc Beecher said simply, “I’ll do what I can, Mr. Stukeley. Lucas, hand me my bag, will you?”
    Lucas jumped and ran to get the bag, which was by the door. Lydia reached for it, too, and for a moment their hands touched. Then Lucas handed the bag to Doc Beecher, who was feeling Sarah’s cheeks and listening to her breathing.
    Mr. Stukeley stood back, watching. Doc Beecher asked for hot water to make a plaster for Sarah’s chest. With the rest of the water, he made what he called a decoction, using one of the cloth bags of herbs Lucas had filled the day before.
    â€œHave her drink this twice a day,” he told Mrs. Stukeley, “and use this other medicine to make a fresh plaster every morning.” He handed her the materials from his bag. “I’ll leave enough for two days. I’ll be back after that to see how she fares.”
    â€œAre you not going to bleed her, nor purge her?” asked Mrs. Stukeley.
    â€œI don’t believe it’s efficacious with consumption, Mrs. Stukeley. There’s little to be done, I’m afraid, other than to ease her suffering with the teas and plasters.” Doc Beecher looked around the room and, with forced cheerfulness, added, “I’ve seen many worse cases. She may recover, Lord willing. Some patients do.” Then, almost to himself, he muttered, “There’s folks who’ll tell you they know the reason why. But I’m not one of them. I’m sorry.”
    Lucas wanted to shout out the story of Enoch Rood’s miraculous recovery, but Doc was in charge, and his quiet seriousness made Lucas reluctant to interfere. In an agony of indecision he wondered: Should he tell the Stukeleys about the cure he’d heard of from Mr. Rood, while there was still a chance to save Sarah? Doc had said he’d seen worse cases than hers, he told himself. Maybe that meant there was time. He’d have to ask Doc when they were alone.
    Mr. Stukeley spoke then. “Thank you for coming, Beecher,” he said stiffly. “I believe we’ll doctor Sarah ourselves from here on.”
    All eyes turned to Mr. Stukeley, including Doc Beecher’s. The two men looked at each other for a long moment. Then Doc bent over and closed up his bag. “As you wish,” he said with a sigh.
    At the door, Doc turned to say, “I shall pray for her speedy recovery. Good night.”
    As Lucas followed the doctor into the frozen night, he heard Lydia’s voice questioning, “Papa?”
    And Mr. Stukeley’s grim reply: “I heard about a cure. And, by God, I aim to try it.”

Seven
    The sky had cleared and a delicate white saucer of moon was rising. Jasper and Moses, eager now for a bucket of oats and the warmth of the barn, pulled the wagon swiftly through the night.
    Lucas sat on the seat next to Doc, who was strangely quiet, showing none of what Lucas had already come to think of as his customary ebullience. There were many questions Lucas wanted to ask Doc about what had happened at the Stukeleys’, but Doc’s silence and the pensive expression on his face made Lucas hold his tongue.
    â€œThat cursed disease!” Doc’s sudden, vehement cry rang out over the snow-crusted fields. Holding the reins with one hand, he shook a fist in the air. “Good Lord, when will we be led out of the darkness of our ignorance and enlightened? ”
    For a while, neither Lucas nor Doc spoke a word, and the steady clop-clopping of the