“How long has the lad experienced these episodes?” the doctor asked quietly.
“Since he was seven. Head injury from a car acc—” I stopped, gulped. “A carriage accident.”
“I see,” Carson said as he laid the stethoscope aside and began to run long, gnarled fingers over the bones of Doug’s skull. “Well, I believe the boy will live. But I need to get him over to my hospital to further evaluate his condition.”
That was so not a good idea. Medical treatments during this age were still primitive. Besides, we weren’t going anywhere until Mac, Phoebe, and Collum returned.
I shook my head. “That’s not necessary. He’s had these fits before. I think he just needs to rest. Can someone help me get him up to my room?”
The doctor opened his mouth to answer but closed it as the assistant leaned over to whisper urgently in the doctor’s ear. As he did, his knee bumped the doctor’s black bag. It tipped over, and the contents spilled out across the floor.
A small rubber hammer. A flared silver tube. Several brown, glass vials of stoppered, hand-labeled medicine.
And a half-empty metallic syringe, the attached needle dark with dried blood. As I knelt next to my afflicted friend, one of the vials rolled and came to rest against my skirts.
My eyes trailed across the label’s fancy script. Tincture of Coca. 80 percent.
I picked up the vial.
The contracted pupils. The rapid breathing. And that spot of blood on Doug’s neck.
I got slowly to my feet. My mouth moved, though at first no words would come as my gaze wandered from the syringe to the puncture wound, finally settling on Dr. Carson.
“What did you do to him?”
Chapter 23
THE DOCTOR DIDN’T SPEAK. HIS KNEES SNAPPED AS HE got to his feet. A thickset man whose florid jowls overlapped his tabbed collar pushed his way to Carson’s side. His hoarse drawl sounded like humidity and cicadas and cotton fields baking in the sun. “This girl here went and kissed that mulatto, Doc. Just kissed him. Right here in front of God and everyone.”
“It’s true,” someone else in the crowd confirmed. “Saw it with my own eyes, Doc Carson. Kissed that darkie right on his black lips.”
“Despicable.” One of the snide women who’d been slamming her friend in the Ladies’ Reception room held a lace hanky to her mouth. “Shameful. She must be mad to carry on so.”
A murmur of agreement from the crowd at that.
A toothy young dandy in cravat and lace sleeves made a crude remark.
“Shut up,” I snapped. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
A malevolent mood burgeoned amid the thickening mass of spectators. They shoved in closer. My chest tightened as their criticisms grew increasingly vulgar. The tide of revulsion and hatred began to build as it swept through the crowd.
“Call the constable,” someone suggested, with a response of general approval.
“Hold it,” Dr. Carson called out. “Hold on now. Do not judge the girl too harshly. She has but lost her sensibilities and become overwrought. I believe, however, that I can help her.” He raised his voice. “Dupree! Josephson!”
Two men in flat caps and navy tunics moved into the circle. Brass buttons gleamed as they laid a canvas stretcher beside Doug’s nearly still form. One grunted as they leaned down to grasp his feet and shoulders. “He’s a big ’un.”
“Don’t touch him.” Ignoring me completely, the two men lifted Doug and laid him on the litter. I took a step toward them, but as I did, I saw the doctor gesture to the attendant standing at Doug’s head.
“Just come quietly now, miss.” The man spoke through a mouthful of brown teeth as he stepped toward me. “No one needs to get hurt here.”
Panic had begun to seep from my pores. ?Ambush. Ambush. Ambush.
The word pulsed through my brain. This “doctor” had—?for reasons I couldn’t begin to fathom—?injected my friend with cocaine. Enough to bring on seizures. Enough to stop his heart. If I hadn’t been here . . .
But. Why?
“Please.” Desperate for the slightest twitch of sympathy, I looked from face to face. I might as well have been begging the marble pillars. Tiny, icy fingernails of dread clawed their way up my back.
With a practiced movement, the attendant snatched my elbows and whipped me around, pinning them behind me. Pain shot through my shoulders as my arms were practically wrenched from their sockets.
“Now, now,” Carson spoke softly, palms raised as though I were a raging animal who would go after him with teeth and nails. “There’s no need for all this. We’re here to help you. You’ll feel better soon, I assure you.”
He dug around in his bag. Soft light from the chandelier glinted off a syringe.
I went perfectly still in the attendant’s grip. “No.”
“Hold out her arm.”
A second, beefy attendant joined the first. Thick fingers dug into the flesh at my elbow and wrist as he wrenched my arm from the other man’s grip and held it straight. The sea of spectators blurred as Carson wrapped a short leather belt around my bicep and cinched it tight.
“Don’t do this,” I spoke quietly. Sanely. “There’s no need. I was only trying to save his life.”
Humming under his breath, the doctor only thumped the tender inside of my elbow. Like a traitor, the antecubital vein rose, blue and pulsing beneath the surface of my skin.
Only a couple of the transfixed onlookers would meet my eye. Several were laughing. Apparently, this had become the day’s entertainment. A circus, with Doug and me as performers in the center ring.
The doctor filled the syringe and tapped the glass to rid it of bubbles.
James, the bellhop who’d brought our meager bags up to the suite, jostled through to the front of the crowd.
“Doc Carson,” he said. “Perhaps we should wait for Miss Randolph’s people—”
“Not to worry, James.” The doctor smiled as he cut the man off. “We shall, of course, send word once we get these two settled at Greenwood.”
Though James nodded, a frown crinkled the skin between his graying eyebrows.
“Wait!” I called after him. But he’d already disappeared into the crowd.
Carson oozed concern as he stroked my hair. “Oh, you poor, poor dear. What a burden it must be to be female. Ruled by emotion.” He sighed. “Thank the stars God, in His infinite wisdom, has given man dominion over you. To censure you—?gently, as one would a beloved child, of course—?when tender feelings overcome reason. Not to worry, though. I am here. I will help you.” With no warning, he jammed the large-bore needle through my skin, piercing the vein. I screamed through clenched teeth.
When I felt the sting of the drug, I went crazy. Pins flew from my hair, pinging on the marble as I flailed like a trapped rabbit. When I lunged a kick at Carson, the goon behind me shifted. His hand clamped down on a muscle at the right side of my neck. From shoulder to fingertips, my arm went numb, and a red line of agony shot up my neck and into my head.
“Whatcha giving her, Doc?” one man called. “If it shuts her up, I might take a batch home for the missus.”