The Doctor's Wife

Chapter 3. The Searchers

She was standing there in her robe, gazing at the fire. Her hair was down, wispy tendrils framed her soft features. She would make coffee next. Rays of sun filtered through; a light breeze gently rattled the window.

He put a hand on her shoulder, and she turned, her inquisitive blue eyes, with their silvery flecks, seeming to stare right into his soul. Och he'd never get used to how strikingly beautiful they were. He could stare into those eyes for days...like sparkling, clear water, reflecting a picturesque blue sky on a sunny day. He pulled her close to them, and began to hum a tune. He twirled her and together they began to sway, began to dance.

"Neil!" 

"Neil?!"

"Doc MacNeill!"

The voice brought him back to the present. Were they getting closer? As he gained more and more awareness, his mind seem to drag...sluggish...he needed to try to call out to them.

Shivering, Neil slowly opened his eyes; those dreamy blue eyes of the his dancing partner faded away into the sky. The sun wasn't so bright now. How long had it been since he'd fallen? 

He tried to lift his head to try to determine where the shouting was coming from. It was faint, but he could hear them. Thank God. They were looking for him. Maybe Charlie had made it back home. When he'd first awoken, he'd looked around for his horse, fearing the worst. But Charlie was no where to be seen, which meant maybe he hadn't fallen after all. 

"NEIL!"

"D-D-D-Down here," he croaked weakly. "Hurry." Damn. His teeth felt like they would crack from the chattering. He tried to whistle, but he couldn't feel his lips. When he sucked in breath he suddenly felt like he was suffocating. Couldn't catch his breath. Gasped in the cold air. So tired. So cold. 

How long Neil laid in the the creek after the fall he didn't know. He'd surely been knocked unconscious at first and when he came to, the bright sun reflecting off the water made it hard to see. Damn. His whole body hurt. His left leg was at an odd angle and and over a large rock. Certainly broken. He didn't need to be a doctor to know that much. The pain was excruciating when he tried to move it. His right he couldn't see or feel...he was pinned almost past his hip on that side, under some large rocks that had come down with him into the stream. He tried to prop himself up with his arms, but when he did the pain took his breath away. At least one broken rib. And doctor or not, there was no way to tell if he had any other internal injuries with the way everything was numb.

He pushed himself up with his elbows, which sank in the silt and mud . Thankfully he was near the bank, and the water was only a few inches deep. The cold water...maybe 50 degrees or so. T'would keep the swelling down at least...if he didn't freeze or, as he felt his body slowly sinking into the cold mud, drown first, when the tide came in. Nay, the cold would get him before the tide came in. He chuckled weakly. What a logical thing to think at a time like this. Exhausted from exertion, he laid back down. In the stream. If only he had something to put under his head. The creekbed did not make a good pillow. Then he saw it. His bag. His black leather doctor bag. Just a few feet away, if he could reach it. A pillow and maybe even a means of making some noise to get his search party's attention. He strained to push himself back on his elbows again and paused to catch his breath. One rib? More likely two. 

He reached out his arm for the bag. His fingertips grazed the worn black leather. His arm ached...it felt heavy...weighed down by his sodden wool overcoat. Feeling around for a stick, he could still hear the shouts of his name, but they were fading.

"Doctor MacNeill!"

"Aaachh," he groaned and strained, finally managing to nudge the bag with the stick to within reach. He pulled it to himself. His fingers weren't working, cold and numb as they were. Finally undoing the brass clasp, he upended the whole bag, glass vials and cotton tumbling into the stream. He grabbed a silver forceps and surgical tray and starting clanging them together.

He stopped to listen. The voices were gone. 

Shivering, he pushed the bag under his head and lowered himself back into his watery pallet. His hands clasped the metal tools to his chest. They would be back. He'd be ready. 

"He was due at the mission over 2 hours ago," David stated, more to himself, as they rode up the path from the Spencers.' "No one has seen or heard from him."

"I just know he's hurt," Christy murmured, her voice cracking.

"Could he have stopped at the Coburns' to check on Lety? Charlie could have come untethered and wandered home, perhaps?" Jeb asked. Mrs. Coburn had suffered a stroke the week prior, thankfully at the mission. Dr. MacNeill had administered adrenaline and saved her life, just as he had for many others in the Cove. The only doctor for miles, he was well-known and well-needed. Someone surely had to have seen him. 

"No, he never tethers Charlie and Charlie wouldn't wander off," answered David.

Christy, who was now riding Charlie, bit back a sob. At first they'd tried to coax Neil's horse into leading them to its owner, to no avail. 

Hoofbeats came up the path. Mrs. Alice, with a small figure riding in front. As they came closer, they recognized Zady Spencer.

"Oh Daddy" she cried. "I was helpin' with the washing and I had a vision just like Mama used to have!" 

"I know, child. David told me," Jeb looked on her in wonder. Zady dismounted and ran to him, and he wrapped her in a great bear hug.

"Perchance Zady's vision can tell us where to find Neil," Alice offered.

Christy straightened her her saddle, choking back tears. She took a deep breath and turned to Zady.

"Zady, can you think of any other details?" she asked her young pupil.

"No, teacher. Just the deer like I said and the rocky overhang."

"Could you draw a picture of it?" David asked.

Jeb handed his daughter a stick and she began scratching out a form in the dirt. 

"It looks like...a thumb," Jeb observed. "I don't know of such a place round here, though."

They all peered down at Zady's drawing.

"We need Billy," Mrs. Alice suggested. The half-Native American man was the area's best tracker.

"We're running out of time," Christy insisted, her voice breaking, "I just know he's hurt." She raised her hands to her face and blew on them, rubbing them together for warmth. But Alice recognized it was actually to keep from crying. 

The wind was picking up.

"Come, Christy, we're not far from the Holcombes. David? Jeb? You continue down south with Charlie. Mr. Allen and John are searching north of here. Christy, Zady, and I will go warm up a spell at the Holcombes and ask them if they've seen Neil." 

The men nodded and after switching Charlie for Prince, the two search parties went their separate ways.

Christy watched them as they continued down the path, wishing she was still riding Charlie. Her hope seemed to fade with them as she watched the men continue over the hill and out of sight.

"Come, Christy," Alice's voice was gentle as she waited for Zady to right herself on their shared mount. "We'll find him."