Doc - Mary Doria Russell [146]
“The Lord’s work,” Alexander replied, feeling sure of it now. “That is a splendid animal you have!”
“Isn’t he a daisy? When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk! He trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it!”
“Homer …? No! Wait—Henry V!”
“Full marks!” Doc cried, reining around. “Father von Angensperg, may I present Dick Naylor? A quarter-miler to be reckoned with.”
“And this is Alphonsus,” Alexander replied, “a mule aptly named for a saint of many virtues.”
As though no time had passed since their first meeting, they tumbled into a conversation that began with Alexander’s now unabashed admiration for Alphonsus and Doc’s gracious admission that mules were highly prized in the South and considered superior to horses for many purposes. This led to a discussion of mule breeding, and that to horse breeding, and that to Wyatt Earp, who hoped to build a stud farm around Dick Naylor.
“I fear you have missed Wyatt again, sir,” Doc told Alexander. “He’s in Topeka, at the state convention of the Republican Party—” His lip curled at the words, and he added a confession dark with melodrama: “I have fallen in with evil companions.”
From there, the conversation veered off toward the score for Brahms’ Second Symphony, which Alexander had sent two months earlier, and that became a discussion of its orchestration. Music persisted as their topic until Dodge became visible in the distance, and Doc suggested that they have lunch together after he attended any patients that might be waiting for him. “Have you ever tried Chinese food?” Doc asked. “I have developed a taste for it, myself.” It was an enthusiasm he had passed on to Morgan and Wyatt, he told the priest, and with the expansiveness that comes with recovered health, Doc had urged Jau Dong-Sing to open a restaurant on Front Street, even promising that he and Kate would invest in the venture.
“Ah … so Athena has rejoined you?” Alexander asked carefully.
“Adjustments made,” Doc said briefly. “Compromises reached.”
The couple had come to an agreement about his working hours after Doc conceded that he’d been burning the candle at both ends while getting started in Dodge. Things were going well now, and he felt sure he would one day have as large a practice as he had cared for back in Georgia. People were even coming in by train, some from as far as Wichita.
Struck by this news, Alexander asked if he might propose a short trip east. The students at St. Francis would benefit from the attention of a dentist, he told Doc. “We couldn’t pay you much,” the priest admitted. “Perhaps a train ticket—”
“Nonsense!” Doc cried. “I will do the work pro bono, of course. My Catholic cousin Martha Anne will be happy to know I am assistin’ you in your work at the mission. Can you wait until October? I hate to leave Dodge during the cattle season, but I expect things to quiet down in the autumn.”
Just then a black-tailed jackrabbit flashed by. Alphonsus walked steadily on, but Dick Naylor shied and danced.
“He has taken a dislike to dogs recently,” Doc remarked, wheeling Dick until the horse settled. “I imagine anything crossin’ his path looks fearsome now.”
This reminded Alex of a cavalry charger he’d once owned. (“Valiant under cannon fire! Terrified of chickens!”) The rest of the ride was passed in an amusing exchange regarding the irrationality of horses, during which Doc alluded to his participation in the Fourth of July race. (“Do tell, sir! I am agog with anticipation!” Alexander cried.) The story of the fall was alarming, but the dentist assured the priest that he had recovered fully and felt entirely well now. Certainly he looked and sounded vastly better than he had in May, when he was exhausted and a good deal paler.
“When, exactly, did your condition begin to improve?” Alexander asked. “May I guess? A fortnight ago?”
“About then. Why?”
“I am curious, only,” Alexander said,