Bluebonnet Belle. Lori CopelandЧитать онлайн книгу.
but I do. I feel I’m doing something important, and I like that.”
“Your grandpa find out what you’re up to yet?”
April shrugged. “No. You know he wouldn’t understand.”
“Your mother was his daughter. He knows she didn’t have to die.”
“I’ll grant you that if men had the same problems as women, there’d be no unnecessary surgeries without some very serious deliberation.”
“Oh, hogwash! You’re getting radical.”
Beulah got up and dusted a shelf of medical supplies as they talked. “I do think you ought to tell your grandpa you’re selling Mrs. Pinkham’s compound. If he finds out what you’re doing—”
Not wanting to hear any more about the subject, April abruptly switched topics. “I’m not going to the Founders Hall event.”
Glancing up, Beulah frowned. “You’re not?”
“No, Henry has to go to Austin on business.”
“Oh.” Her friend’s face fell. “And you bought that lovely blue dress.”
“I know, but I can use it another time. Henry’s work comes first.”
Resuming her dusting, Beulah muttered, “Rather thoughtless of him to plan a business trip at this time.”
“It couldn’t be helped, Beulah.”
“Mmm, maybe.”
“Are you going to the dance?” April asked.
“Of course.”
“Wonderful. With anyone I know?”
“Papa. Mother is still away tending to Aunt Mary.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed. You know no man is going to ask me to a dance.”
“Beulah Ludwig, you stop that!” Crossing the room, April gently took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Don’t ever say that again in my presence. If the men in this town are so blind they can’t see anything but a woman’s dress size, then I say shame on them! Their loss!”
“Dash it all, I don’t care,” Beulah said as the two hugged each other. “My life is full. I don’t need any man to boss me around. Not one like Henry, that’s for sure.”
“I know you don’t like Henry, but you don’t know him like I do,” April whispered.
“I’ve known him as long as you have.”
“He’s so…charming, attentive,” April argued. “Do you know what he calls me?”
“Slave?”
“No, be serious.”
Eyeing her warily, Beulah said, “What?”
“Bluebonnet belle. Isn’t that just the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard!”
“Simply ducky.”
Just then the bell over the door rang, and aged, nearly deaf Mrs. Faith hobbled in.
“Good day to you, Mrs. Faith.” Beulah greeted the elderly lady loudly. “What can I do for you?”
“Eh?”
“What can I do for you?”
Mrs. Faith leaned on her cane and waved a piece of paper. “Got this prescription, Porky. That young doctor gave it to me and told me to bring it over here and give it to you.”
“Let me see what you have,” Beulah said, reading the prescription. “Yes, we can fill this for you.”
“Eh?”
“We have this!” Beulah shouted toward her less-deaf ear.
“You sure? I wouldn’t want to get the wrong thing. Doctor says it would help my gout.”
“I’m sure it will. It’ll only take a minute.”
“Well, hurry up. It’s been paining me something awful lately.”
April motioned to Beulah, who excused herself from her customer, saying she’d be right back.
“Give her some of Mrs. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound.”
“What?” Beulah demanded in a hushed whisper.
“Give Mrs. Faith some of the compound.”
“Are you out of your mind? She’s got the gout, not the monthlies!” Glancing at her customer, Beulah smiled. “Just take a minute, Mrs. Faith!”
“Eh?”
“Some of the compound, Beulah. Pour some in a bottle and tell her to use it in addition to the prescribed medicine.”
“Never. The compound is not going to help her gout, and Papa would have a fit. Do you know the consequences of dispensing medicine without the proper authority?”
“It isn’t medicine. It’s just an herbal compound. But it will really perk her up. You’ll see.”
It was the perfect answer. April had been trying to think of a way to boost sales and get the word out about the compound, and the solution was right under her nose!
“The compound is for female problems,” Beulah argued in a quiet tone, glancing at Mrs. Faith again.
“Oh, come on, do the woman a good deed and give her some of the compound.”
When Mrs. Faith glowered toward them again, Beulah waved. “Be right with you, ma’am.”
“You do have some, don’t you? You didn’t pour it out?” April had brought her friend a sizable jugful a few weeks ago, thinking she might use it.
“I have it,” Beulah snapped. “I intended to throw it away, but Papa’s always around when I think of it.”
“Then do it.” April took her arm, urging her toward the back room. Mrs. Faith looked up again, glowering.
April and Beulah waved, grinning.
“I can’t tamper with Papa’s prescriptions,” Beulah whispered.
April made sure she kept smiling as she led her friend to the back room. “What tampering? There’s nothing in the compound to hurt her. I want to see if it really does what Lydia says it will.”
“I can’t.”
“Come on, come on, please. I need to know how good this tonic really is.”
It would make her decision to help Lydia Pinkham in her endeavor to improve women’s health so much easier if she knew for certain the compound worked. Not to mention make her feel less guilty about keeping her activities from Grandpa.
“Then take it yourself.”
“I don’t have any problems—except the wicked monthlies.”
“Mrs. Faith doesn’t even have the wicked monthlies. She’s got the gout!”
“And female problems, I bet. She has to. She’s old as dirt. At least offer her some, and see if she agrees to take it.”
Dragging a chair to the shelf, Beulah climbed up on it, balancing her bulk as she reached for a gallon jug well hidden behind a row of bottles. “If Papa ever gets wind of this he’ll take a belt to me.”
“Just tell him the truth. In addition to filling Mrs. Faith’s prescription, you suggested a mild tonic that one of your customers makes and uses herself.” April helped lower the gallon jug. “That isn’t a lie.”
“Well…we do sell and ship a lot of nettle tea to Mrs. Pinkham.”
Reaching for a funnel, Beulah poured some of the compound into