The Crossing at Cypress Creek by Pam Hillman

Author:Pam Hillman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Christian / Historical, FICTION / Historical / General
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2019-06-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

WHEN MR. Wainwright pulled to a stop outside the apothecary’s, Caleb jumped down and grabbed Alanah’s packs from the back of the wagon.

He stepped inside the shop, dropped the packs, and looked around. Every surface was covered with bottles, jars, clay pots. Clumps of dried herbs hung from the ceiling, and a sickly sweet odor wafted from somewhere in the dark recesses of the building. Whatever the apothecary was brewing, it certainly didn’t smell like supper.

The curtain in the back parted, and a wizened man with spectacles shuffled out, a cloud of steam following in his wake. He wiped his hands on a stained apron, then inclined his head in greeting. “Good day, sir. Weaver at your service. How may I help you?”

Caleb motioned to the packs. “Miss Adams sent these for you.”

A smile bloomed on the old man’s wrinkled face. “Miss Adams, eh? How fares she?”

“Very well. She sends her regards.”

With a murmur that might have meant agreement, the apothecary cleared a spot on the cluttered countertop, then motioned for one of the bundles. Caleb obliged, untying the drawstring. One after another, the man pulled out the contents, sniffing each small bundle or jar in turn. With the hundreds of scents swirling around them, Caleb wondered how he had a clue what each contained. But apparently he had a nose for such things.

“Tansy. Slippery elm. Pokeweed. Cypress oil. Yes. Hmmm.” He pulled out a good-size packet, sniffed, then shook it in Caleb’s face. “Aha! Bloodroot. Do you realize how hard this is to find? That dark-haired miss must have inherited her acumen from her Choctaw relatives.”

“You must be referring t’ Lydia.” Caleb crossed his arms, the movement stretching the leather jerkin over his shoulders. “Mistress Adams’s hair is no’ dark. ’Tis like honey, it is, shot through with gold.”

“Gold and honey?”

Heat flushed up Caleb’s face, and it wasn’t from the close quarters. “If ya do no’ want t’ buy the herbs, say so directly, and I’ll be on me way.”

“Don’t go off half-cocked.” The old man cackled. “I just wanted to be sure you hadn’t filched these herbs from the miss, tried to sell them to line yer own pockets.”

Caleb glared at the crusty old man, then relaxed. The apothecary was only watching out for Alanah. With that in mind, he kept silent, watching as Weaver finished his inspection of the bulkier but much lighter bundle, containing what looked to be little more than weeds and vines.

“What?” He riffled through the packs strewn across the counter. “No turkey tails?”

“I would no’ be knowin’, sir.”

“I know it’s a harrowing journey, but you tell Miss Adams I’ll make it worth her while if she’ll send me some mushrooms posthaste.”

“Aye. I’ll be sure t’ relay the message.”

The apothecary finished his inspection of the contents of the packs, then removed his spectacles, cleaned them with his apron, and squinted at Caleb. “I shouldn’t give you the coin for Miss Adams’s herbs, but —”

“Maybe this will convince you that Alanah sent me.” Caleb held out a piece of paper.

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