“Dr. Leonard!”
He grabbed his envelope and saw the one in the boy’s hand for Ada. “I can take Nurse Ada her letter as well.”
The boy nodded and went on his way. Will looked at the envelope and secretly prayed that malcontent who held Ada’s heart was not the writer. Part of him wanted to burn it, just in case it was, but he didn’t. He went in search of her and found her, sitting at a bed, her eyes drooping as she attempted to write a letter for the boy on the cot. Of course, the boy was gone and she had probably taken his last words. He prayed she had before she’d drifted off.
“Ada,” he whispered in her ear.
She jumped, knocking her pencil stub and paper to the floor. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “Will, why are you scaring me so?”
“Ada, your patient is gone.”
“I know. Poor soul. Pneumonia stole his life away, and at such a sweet young age,” she mourned. “I had just jotted his last words down, for his mother, when he passed.” She wiped her eyes.
He reached to pick up the letter. At least one he didn’t have to do, he thought absently, then mentally chided himself for the thought. He motioned to the orderly to come and take care of the boy.
“You have a letter.”
Instantly, her face lit up. “Oh, how nice!”
“And Dr. Waxler has called for you.”
Her shoulders steeled, as if she was a warrior ready for battle. “Of course, he did.”
“Ada, be careful. I still hope he hasn’t heard of our friend,” he added in a low tone.
On that, she snorted. “I’ve no fear all is good. What I reckoned he heard was of my newly acquired husband.”
Will snapped upright. “Husband?”
“My landlady has been led to believe that creature is my spouse.”
“I told her—”
“I know what you said.” She stood, flattening her navy wool skirt. “But he introduced himself to her, in his very Southern ways, swaying her off with sweet little nothings, and told her outright we were husband and wife.” After making sure her apron was straight, she glared at him.
“You owe me, Will. Never forget that.”
“I think you are being a touch out of line, Dr. Waxler.”
Waxler grinned. He’d waited a long time for this meeting. The fact that Dorothea Dix was there would not take the enjoyment out of this.
“We are in shortage of nurses. There is no rule to rid us of one that is perfectly suited for the position.”
“She claims to be a physician. She’s practiced under my command, without any clearance from me. I will not tolerate this further. Perhaps you should lower your demands and recruit from a broader base.”
Dix sat prim and proper on the chair in the office, her hair pulled back and tied tightly in a bun. Her own face worn and tired from working the last three years for the war effort, but surely she had to know when she’d gone too far, Waxler thought.
“I have worked diligently, sir, to aid you and the Medical Corp during this trying and distressful war, worry for better care of the wounded my top priority. I have the President’s approval and my own experience that surely outranks your narrow-minded thoughts over a nurse who is overly qualified for the position. And, perhaps, you might learn a thing or two, from a woman like her.”
Waxler bit back the grumble desperate to escape his lips. No point making this one mad as well. While Ada might be missed at first, Dix’s departure would not go well, so he constrained his contempt and tried to formulate an approach that could bring the Old Dragon around to his way of thinking.
Willard Bliss, surgeon with the Third Michigan Infantry, appointed superintendent at Washington D.C’s Armory Square Hospital, was present, at Waxler’s request. The surgeon sat off to the side, rummaging through reports and keeping to himself. Waxler hoped the superintendent would keep his mouth shut and let him do all the talking. Alas, only time would tell.
A scratching at the door prompted Miss Dix to answer. Waxler straightened his back, a flare of victory coursing through his veins. Upright woman, thinking she was his equal! Ha!
Ada entered. Waxler had to admit, she presented herself well. She adhered to the rules Dix had for the nurses—she had on a plain, unadorned navy wool dress with a corded petticoat underneath and not the crinoline as that was outlawed by Dix. She wore no jewelry and her hair was pulled back into a pinned coiled braid. Her apron was only slightly marred from use, not a surprise this late in the day. Her manners were excellent, except when he needed her to keep her place. Like when the wounded arrived…
“Nurse Ada, please come, take a seat,” Dix suggested, her tone not warm but not cold either.
Even without a crinoline, Ada seemed to float to the chair and sat gently. “I understand you needed to speak to me?”
“Yes, well, let us cut to the chase, shall we?” Waxler started, the need to mix niceties seemed a bit much at this time. “You have broken the rules of nursing. You have acted as a practicing physician, upset the wards, acted as surgeon and refused to accept your position.”
The color drained from her face. “I do beg your pardon, Dr. Waxler, but I am a physician and have the credentials to prove it.”
“A degree from some utopian school and a list of female patients do not qualify you to operate on our men! Nor is it approved by the Federal government.” He started to pace. “You have usurped my rules, operated against orders and acted as if you are better than any other surgeon here!” The last words sank into his thinking and he quickly turned toward Bliss. “Except for you, sir.”
Bliss looked up, running his fingers
