The Doctor's Wife

Chapter 1. Calamity Befalls the Good Doctor

His horse continued at a comfortable trot down the road. Neil felt the winds coming in cooler than the day before, and he wondered if the Gap would see a rainstorm. It was bloody annoying that David was right to ask him to help with the mission roof that day. They'd done a temporary repair a few months earlier, unable to do more due to the snow and ice. Now it was time to properly finish the job. A gust of wind brought the scent of wildflowers. Neil inhaled and thought of his wife, who was probably starting to stir and would soon reach for him and find him gone. Damn it, David.

The oak leaves were just starting to sprout, no bigger than a squirrel's ear on the spindly branches. It was a beautiful morning, with nature surrounding him, bringing new life and new hope in all its tiny shoots and buds.

He couldn't help but feel cheered with the sounds of robins singing, but he still wished he was back in bed with his wife.

"There'll be plenty of time for more of that later, Neil," he said aloud to himself. Spring was here, and with it, spring planting. No school. More Christy to himself. He actually felt giddy at the thought, and made a mental note to pick some spring wildflowers on his way home for his wife. There was an alternate path to the mission that passed by a small gorge and stream. The wildflowers there seemed to bloom sooner than those higher up the mountain. He decided to take that route now instead, to scout out the flowers he would pick later.

"Maybe another bee will show me to the best blooms," he said aloud to himself and chuckled. As he rode on, a small flock of birds suddenly burst from a nearby tree and flew off into the sunrise. Neil smiled and imagined himself flying overhead, riding the wind and soaking in the morning sun.

David. Stop in on Lety Coburn. She was clearly out of the woods after her stroke, but he still wanted to check in. Don't forget to telegram Dr. Robinson. Neil played out his tasks for the day as he rode. Christy. That's a task I'd much prefer to do. His horse whinnied and snorted, then slowed to sniff the air. Neil clicked his tongue and gently nudged the equine flank with his boot. Charlie was getting on in years, at least for a horse. 

You're as much a sentimental ninny as I today, aye, Charlie?" Neil wondered if Charlie was thinking of a mare in the Cove. "Is she a pretty one, then?" Charlie whinnied again and finally continued forward.

"What's the matter? Don't want to talk about her? Did I embarrass you? Didn't know horses could get embarrassed by talk of a lassie mare." Charlie snorted.

"Well, onward then. Your belly should be full and pleased with those apples I gave you this morn."

They continued down the well-worn trail. The sun was no longer touching earth but risen just below the tops of the trees. Rays of sunshine filtered through and made the morning dew sparkle. 

The rhythmic clomp of hoofbeats seemed to keep time with the singing birds. A constant cadence in a morning symphony. They were nearing one of Neil's favorite fishing spots, one few knew of. The days were getting colder; time marched on like the hoofbeats of his horse, and Neil knew his fishing days were coming to an end, at least for the season

"Come Charlie, let's take a shortcut to pass closer to the stream," he tugged the reins for the horse to turn off down a side path that would take them down to the stream and then back up to the main trail. The horse snorted and turned, slowing its pace to navigate the less-beaten path, which was hardly noticeable from the main trail with its overgrown brush.

Growing up in the Cove, Neil knew every trail and path and secret fishing hole. Rarely, he shared his knowledge with one of the young Cove boys, sworn to secrecy though they were. He knew about enough secluded fishing holes to share, although he mostly kept the best to himself. As they made it to the lowest part of the path, Neil could see his angler refuge, marked by the gray boulder that looked like a man's thumb. Charlie's hoof knocked a few pebbles down off the path, and they bounced off rocks and into the water. Plunk plunk. This particular spot was one he had shared only with Sam Houston and Creed Allen, in the days that followed Bob Allen's near-death. 

The memory came flooding back of that night in the Allen cabin, when he first laid eyes on Miss Christy Huddleston. He felt his heartbeat quicken at the memory of the risky operation...or was it at the memory of his young wife. Aye, fishing would be nice after he finished helping David and making his daily rounds, but having a round with Christy would be much nicer. 

Suddenly, a young doe burst out of a nearby bush and the horse hastily backed up, hooves struggling to find purchase on the rocky pathway. Plop plunk plop plunk. Rocks and pebbles slid down into the water. "Whoah, boy," Neil said calmly as he gripped the reins. But the rocks kept falling and the horse's movements became more frantic. A large rock gave way and both horse and rider fell down an incline. Then tumbling. Falling. He felt himself flying through the air, downward. Rocks raining down on him. Felt the shocking chill of water and pain shooting through his legs as he landed with both a thud and a splash. And then darkness.