Mercury's Rise (Silver Rush 04) by Ann Parker Page B

with non-doctorly vehemence. “A child! What would she know? I would hope an education at University of Göttingen, study under Virchow in Berlin, being a physician in the Krieg would carry more weight that the babbling of a child!”
    The marshal closed his notebook with a snap. “No one’s denyin’ your expertness in the matter of medicament, Dr. Prochazka.”
    Prochazka stood up abruptly and his chair almost fell backwards. The marshal caught it with one hand.
    “If Mrs. Pace would allow an autopsy to be performed on her husband, we could lay this nonsense to rest,” the doctor said. “I have no time for pandering to this woman, who makes accusations of me. I have patients, I am delayed in attending. Patients requiring attention, who have been…” he seemed to search for the word, “ denied my treatment this morning and last night because of the fits of a hysterical female.”
    Inez frowned, thinking that Mrs. Pace had not acted hysterical during the previous night’s moments of deep crisis. Rather, she had only appeared hysterical after her interview with the doctor and marshal.
    “I know Mrs. Pace well,” continued Prochazka. “Have treated her since the beginning of summer. She came here a frail woman, but is now much improved in the matter of her lungs. This mental stress, this maniacal behavior, it is merely a manifestation of her underlying weakness. I must see Mr. Travers now. Nurse Crowson said he is coughing blood again. She has been wheeling him about the garden for the past hour. Do you want a man’s life on your hands for the sake of another who has already met his Maker, thanks to the vagaries of age and the unfortunate twists of circumstances?”
    “Whoa, hold your horses, Doc,” said the marshal. “Mrs. Stannert was the last person in the coach. We’re done here. You can return to your patients, and sorry for the trouble.”
    While talking, the marshal had advanced around the table and was now motioning Inez to the door. She stood her ground, long enough to let Prochazka know she was not about to be run off, quaking in her boots, fearful of a display of temper.
    “Perhaps,” she said coldly. “Mrs. Pace’s display of mental mania is no more due to her medical infirmities than this exhibit of rabid spleen is due to your poor manners, Doctor.”
    With that, she retreated in dignified haste, even as she heard him lapse back into the foreign tongue from the previous night. Strange mutterings followed her. “ Verrückte! Ztráta č asu! Idioti! ”
    That last word, at least, was clear to her.
    Marshal Robbins closed the door behind them, mopped his brow with a bright red kerchief, and set his bowler atop his head. “Well, Mrs. Stannert. I’d say you woke up the wrong passenger.”
    She was shaking with anger. “He’s quite insufferable. What an absolute boor!”
    Marshal Robbins squinted up at the back of the hotel, while he tucked his notepad inside his vest. “He’s an odd stick, there’s no doubt. But a powerful healer in these parts, so folks take his stand-offishness with a grain of salt. Too, the nurse, Mrs. Crowson, she’s sound on the goose, real reliable with the sick and ailing. Keeps things on an even keel when the doctor gets wound up and is on the shoot.”
    Inez sniffed, and crossed her arms. The marshal started walking back to the hotel, and she matched his stride. “So, that is it?”
    He looked at her, wary, a bit bemused. “What’s it?”
    “You’re not asking more questions? You are not going to pursue the circumstances of Mr. Pace’s death any further?”
    “Now ma’am. I’m not one to pass the buck nor play to the gallery.” He spoke slowly and deliberately, as if to a child. “At the same time, I’m not going to kick up a row where there’s nothing to be gained. Gentleman comes a cropper on the stagecoach out of Leadville. Out of my jurisdiction, but Mr. Lewis says, real desperate-like, can I spare the morning to come down and give the matter some