Chapter Six
The snow finally stopped falling the following day. However, it didn’t mean they could hope to go out any time soon. Trevor had yet to understand what had changed with Ruby.
Since the day she’d gotten angry with him, Ruby insisted he not enter the kitchen when she cooked and almost each time since had come up with a flavorful meal. He heard her humming while cooking, seeming to enjoy the time alone more than with him.
They’d not been intimate since the day she’d cried. Their lack of intimacy was due in part to the fact she’d had her monthly courses. He wasn’t sure how to approach the subject of whether they’d ended. Besides, although she seemed content enough, they’d not discussed why she’d become so furious with him.
Now he was in the bedroom finding things to keep himself occupied. He’d just finished arranging his clothes when Ruby walked in. “Once my trunks arrive from back east, I will require a wardrobe of my own.”
It had not occurred to him that she’d have more items coming. “As soon the weather allows, we will visit Frank Rutherford. He’s the local furniture maker.”
She looked at his wardrobe and frowned, seeming to find it lacking. “Did he make this one?”
“Yes, he did.”
“I hope he will take direction when I ask that he spend a bit more time on mine.” She shook her head and grimaced. “I’m sure your wardrobe suits your purposes, however, I would like something more feminine if possible.”
Trevor couldn’t picture the rugged carpenter making anything that wasn’t a basic piece of furniture. “I’m sure he’ll listen to what you have to say.”
When his wife lingered, he waited for whatever she wanted to discuss. Finally she let out a sigh. “How long before you think it will be possible for me to visit my friends. It’s the longest I’ve ever gone without speaking to them. I miss them terribly.”
“A week perhaps. Hopefully the snow will melt some soon.”
She nodded. “I hope so. I’d like to visit the mercantile as well. If I had fabric, thread or such, I could begin to make proper curtains and embroider doilies for the table surfaces.”
Although Trevor wasn’t entirely sure what a doily was, he grinned at her. “I have something that will please you then.” He hurried out of the bedroom to the empty room.
In a rustic trunk that set against one wall, he’d stored fabric and other items he’d purchased or had been given to him. “I keep things in here, I’m not sure what to do with,” Trevor explained.
“My goodness, I’d not noticed that trunk before.”
Upon opening it, he lifted a stack of fabrics that he’d purchased one day thinking he’d use it to make curtains. However, over time he’d forgotten about it and once the current cloths were nailed in place, he didn’t see a need for anything else.
“Oh,” Ruby exclaimed taking the fabric from him. “There may be enough here to make curtains for all of the windows and some left over for doilies and perhaps a pillow or two.”
Turning on her heel, she disappeared through the doorway. He looked down at the trunk and drew out a small basket filled with items the mercantile owner’s wife had given him, insisting they were necessary to sew with.
A week later, most of the windows had curtains. Trevor had to admit they added a degree of homeliness to the house, and he liked the addition of the doily on one table so far. Ruby informed him she still planned to make several more and he was glad she had something to do to pass the time.
The snow remained waist high, but it was quickly lowering and he was glad to finally be able to make his way to the clinic. The day before, he’d finished shoveling a path from his back door to the front of the clinic.
It was strangely silent as Trevor made his way to the clinic. Once inside he let out a breath. The clinic was like a small second home, a place where he could be of use to the town.
Everything was as he’d left it, each item in it’s place. The clinic smelled a bit stale from the lack of fresh air, so he opened the windows to air out the space until he began to shiver. Finally after once again ensuring all was well, he returned to the house.
She looked up from her sewing when he neared. “Would you like to see the clinic?”
Ruby was excited at the prospect of leaving the house and it’s overly familiar walls. It took but a few moments to don her cloak and gloves. She hurried to ensure it wouldn’t start snowing again and keep them from venturing out. While she buttoned up her cloak and wrapped a thick scarf around her neck, Trevor waited patiently for her, his gaze never leaving her.
He was an attentive husband, she had to admit. Although he remained a stickler for perfection in routine tasks, she’d managed to keep away from having to do anything with him that would require any kind of instruction.
Several times she’d noticed items moved and sat differently after she’d finished cleaning or cooking, and it was annoying. However, she decided it would be best to wait before talking to him about it. Once they began a normal day-to-day existence and became comfortable around each other, she’d broach the subject of his need for everything to be just so.
They made their way down the shoveled path he’d made to the clinic. The temperature remained quite frigid, however the sun shined brightly and would hopefully begin to melt the snow.
They entered the clinic and she was not surprised to find it to be impeccable and orderly.
The space was well appointed. There was an elevated slender bed with a tall table next to it. On the table were a lantern and medical instruments of different sizes. She went from the foot of the bed to the shelves upon which a collection of jars were lined up in alphabetical order. Each had a label with the name of the contents written in neat handwriting. It occurred to Ruby she didn’t know Trevor’s handwriting at all.
“It’s not what I imagined,” Ruby said, her fingers running along the front of the jars. “I suppose I’ve never been to an actual clinic. Our doctor always came to our home when necessary.”
Trevor motioned to another cabinet. The tall slender wooden cabinet had dozens of small drawers, each one precisely labeled as well. “I keep other drugs here.”
His broad shoulders relaxed, he strode to a side table with ominous looking instruments atop. “These items are what I use most when treating gunshot wounds. They are washed daily.”
Not wishing to picture what some were used for exactly, Ruby shuddered and turned away to a corner of the room. This portion of the space was totally different than any space she’d yet to see.
On a round table were a framed picture of a young man, a ledger, ink and a quill. There was also a vase, and several containers with various items. A carved box took her attention and she opened it to find beads, some carved items and a watch. In a basket next to it, there were other similar items. It was a rather strange collection of items.
“What is all this?” Ruby asked when Trevor came to stand next to her.
He picked up a leather cord from which a crucifix had been strung. “Each of these things has a story. They were either given to me in lieu of payment or came from people that didn’t survive their visit to the clinic. Most items are buried with the person but every so often something gets either left behind or is given to me by a surviving relative as a memento of sorts.”
She continued to survey the contents of the box and basket as he told her some of the stories. Some were eerie, others touching, and some were even comical. It seemed Trevor was rather well liked and respected by the local community and even had a relationship with Indian healers whom he traded for herbs and such with.