dangle there. Maybe it didn’t matter if she didn’t understand what was happening to her. Her journey to Burnt Rock was what she needed to be doing, and she couldn’t wait for clarity on everything before she did it.
She took the map out of the top of her pack and opened it up. With a red marker, Wally had marked out a trail that appeared to cut several miles off the journey. If she left within the hour, the map promised, she should arrive in the small town by nightfall. She wondered if she could trust the route not to put her in harm’s way, or if Wally’s lines would lead her to insurmountable cliffs and chasms that couldn’t be crossed.
When Beth took her foot out of the water, her toes had no feeling in them, and the wound on the bottom of her foot was also numb. But it remained inflamed at the edges and ghostly white down the center. She sighed, not sure what she’d been expecting, or even simply hoping for. But then, Wally hadn’t said anything about fixing her foot, had he? All he had promised was a route to Burnt Rock, and a leg that could endure the saddle on the way there.
She prepared to leave.
Dotti parked her 4x4 right in front of Garner’s shop to make it look busy. Busyness drew more business these days. She’d do him proud while he recovered and would try not to worry in the meantime. Worry was exhausting, and a body needed stamina in order to be helpful.
She left her keys in the ignition, just as everyone left their front doors unlocked. More efficient that way for all the running around and car-swapping one did in a town this size. She bipped up the stairs, crossed the porch, and shook her head when she saw that the door was actually open, leaning into the house by three or four inches.
Dotti gripped the doorknob and burst in, the better to shock the thief who might think he could walk off with a few bottles of salve while the shopkeeper had stepped out.
Instead she was the one who clutched the throat of her jacket and gasped. The bookseller Nova was at the base of the stairs that led to the second-story bedrooms. She held on to the balled newel-post cap with both hands as if her knees had already begun to buckle. Her fine hair clung to her face as if she’d been swimming, and sweat had turned her light gray cotton shirt the color of charcoal around her throat.
“Mr. Remke?” The voice was so weak.
“Nova?” Dotti said. She reached out for the girl and helped her to kneel on a step.
“Where’s Mr. Remke?”
“He’s ill, honey. What can I do that would help you?”
“I was wondering if he has—a tincture? A cramp bark tincture?”
Dotti hadn’t the foggiest idea what a cramp bark tincture might be. She’d never seen a woman suffer from menstrual cramps like these.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. Have you bought some from him before?”
Nova shook her head slightly, as if shaking it too hard might cause unspeakable nausea. “It’s called Viburnum. Could you . . . could you look?”
Of course she could look, if she had the slightest idea how to spell the word. And being an ancient veteran of excellent customer service, Dotti would have looked it up and asked all sorts of questions and turned the house inside out to find precisely what this woman needed so that she could leave happy.
“My dear,” Dotti said, “you seem to be beyond the help of a tincture of vubeer . . . vubur . . .
“Viburnum,” Nova whispered, and her hand went to her stomach. Her cheeks were flushed, and Dotti thought she might lose her lunch right there. But she merely swayed.
“Let me call Dr. Ransom for you. I know right where she is.”
“No, just a . . . tincture will do. Please.” Nova took a deep breath, sharp and steep, and braced herself where she knelt. When the pain passed, she closed her eyes and panted lightly.
“I really think we should get you to a doctor.”
At this Nova began to sob, and she dropped her forehead to one of the higher steps, and Dotti’s alarm grew. She decided that she wouldn’t try to sort this one out on her own. She would call Cat, then go sit with Garner while the good doctor got to the bottom of Nova’s situation.
“I’m getting Catherine.”
“No. Not her.”
“Why