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Maggie's Strength

By Kimberly Grist

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Chapter 1

May 1890 – Carrie Town, Texas

Twenty-year-old Maggie Montgomery opened the heavy drapes in Dr. and Mrs. Benton’s front parlor. The morning sun cast a warm glow on the gold-colored walls and the bright white gingerbread trim. The slight aroma of beeswax and linseed oil sent a faint reminder of Maggie’s effort to give the beautiful hardwood floors a soft gleam.
Wrapped in both a shawl and blanket, Beatrice Benton sipped tea while resting on her camelback sofa. Her mahogany hair, twisted into a bun, contrasted with her pale skin, the remnant of her bout with influenza followed by pneumonia. Maggie studied the dark shadows under her employer’s blue eyes and the gauntness of her face.
“Are you still cold?” Maggie lightly squeezed Mrs. Benton’s hand.
“No, I feel fine.” She glanced toward the open window. “It seems odd to be wrapped up in blankets in Texas on a beautiful spring day like this.” Her eyes sparkled. “I’m looking forward to sitting on the front porch and taking a closer look at the garden you and your mother have been working so diligently on.”
Maggie beamed. In the months since she’d come to help Beatrice regain her strength Maggie had grown to love her. “I’m excited to show it to you. But are you sure you feel well enough to venture outside?”
Beatrice Benton, affectionately known as Mrs. Doc, nodded and extended her hand. “If you’ll help keep me steady, I’m sure I can manage.”
“Lean on me now as much as you need to. I’m stronger than I look.” Maggie slipped her arm around the frail woman’s waist.
Mrs. Doc was several inches taller than Maggie’s five-foot-one-inch frame. “You don’t have to tell me,” she laughed. “You’re not as big as a bar of soap, but you’re strong in more ways than one.”
They stepped onto the wraparound porch and strolled past the entrance used for Dr. Benton’s patients and meandered toward the side yard. Mrs. Doc gasped as she gazed past the large oak to the garden seat with a swirled heart design. “You made me a bench?”
“Papa did most of it, but he let me design the pattern, and I shaped the hearts. I knew how much you liked Mama’s.”
“One day soon I hope to be well enough to visit your father’s blacksmith shop.” Mrs. Benton’s eyes twinkled. “I’m especially interested in watching you work in it.”
“I would love that, and so would Papa. Perhaps this fall when the weather begins to cool down, you’ll feel up to a visit. In the meantime, we can come up with some designs that you might like to see me make.”
“I want to get closer.” Mrs. Benton eased down the steps to the garden, clutching onto Maggie’s arm. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the landscape.
“The echinacea will soon be blooming a purplish pink cone. The rosemary, thyme, lavender, lemongrass, and peppermint are thriving between the brick pavers.” Maggie motioned toward the tilled soil near the oak tree. “We also planted some gingerroot. Not only will your garden be aromatic, but we’ll also harvest the herbs for cooking and medicinal purposes. This time next year you won’t recognize the place.”
“It’s beautiful now. I look forward to learning more about herbs. Your mother’s recipe for the ginger tea and honey has done more to help me with this nagging cough than anything else we’ve tried. You’ve certainly made a believer out of me.” She chuckled. “When I wrote to my son about the value of some of the teas you were making, he wrote me back a scathing reply and told me to leave the doctoring to professionals.”
Maggie’s jaw dropped. “Tea and honey have been used for hundreds of years as a cough remedy.” Her eyebrows narrowed. “Did you not tell him Dr. Benton approved of it?”
“Of course, I did.” Mrs. Doc’s mouth curved upward. “My husband was the same way when he first graduated from medical school. So sure that the newest medications available were the only way to go. Never mind that they are often unavailable or in limited quantity here in the west.”
~
Dr. Benjamin James Barton, Jr. stretched his cramped legs in relief as the conductor announced the train’s upcoming stop in Carrie Town. It had been nearly six months since he’d seen his parents. He was anxious to see his mother and to put a stop to the backwoods remedies Miss Maggie Montgomery was plying her with.
He frowned as he recalled their latest letter, which outlined the virtues of the young woman. He’d become so alarmed he’d resigned his position at a large hospital and internship under the professor of otology, who worked with Alexander Graham Bell on hearing research.
As the locomotive slowed to a stop, B.J.searched his mind, trying to conjure up a picture of Maggie. According to his mother, she and her family had relocated to Carrie Town last fall after her sister Molly had given birth to twins. The first time he saw Maggie, he had mistaken her for a young boy. She was often seen working in her father’s blacksmith shop wearing overalls. Petite, with blond hair and freckles, she certainly seemed harmless, but if he had learned anything outside of medical college, it was that women weren’t always what they seemed.
B.J stepped onto the train platform, spotted the luggage handler and quickly arranged to have his suitcases delivered. With medical bag in hand, he strode the four blocks home. The minute he rounded the corner his eyes lit on the bay windows trimmed in white, which sparkled from the two-storied Victorian. A hint of the aroma of lavender welcomed him as he opened the gate of the picket fence. He stopped short. “Mother, what are you doing outside?”
Beatrice Benton glanced up and stretched out her arms. “B.J., why didn’t you tell us you were coming home?”
His long legs ate up the distance between them. He bent down and kissed his mother’s cheek as she wrapped him in a warm embrace. “Where is your young nurse that you adore so much? Come, you shouldn’t be out here in this wind.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ve only just sat down. Maggie went into the house to fetch my bonnet.”
Though she looked frail, his mother’s eyes gleamed as he assisted her to her feet. “Humor me. Let’s get you back inside the house.” He guided her up the steps, onto the porch and pushed open the door to a loud thunk and a shrill cry.

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