She’d come straight to the dispensary from the Columbia Mission Society building. Mrs. Dotta had explained she needed a reference—a short note that said Mercy was all she claimed to be—and had told Mercy to get the letter and return it to her by the end of the day.

Of all the people Mercy knew, Dr. Bates was the only gentleman. His reference letter would hold the most weight. And she aimed to beg him to include a reference for Patience too. With a man like Dr. Bates vouching for them both, how could the Columbia Mission Society turn them away?

“Mercy,” said Dr. Bates as he entered the room. “I thought I saw you.” His white hair was sticking on end as usual, and his suit was wrinkled as though he’d been moving nonstop for hours—which likely he had been.

“’Tis me just so.” She pulled the syringe apart and began to fill the tube with water.

In spite of his busyness, Dr. Bates offered her a smile. Behind his thick glasses, his eyes filled with the compassion she’d come to expect from him. “And who did you bring today?” he asked, starting toward the woman and child.

“Only myself, Doctor.”

He halted and turned to study her, lines creasing his brow. “Are you ill, my child?”

“Not at all. I’m just hoping you’ll write me a letter stating my character is right well enough to sail with the Columbia Mission Society group.”

“You’re emigrating?” He spoke the question as if it were the last thing he’d ever expected her to do.

Once again, Mercy couldn’t keep from wondering, as she already had a dozen times since leaving Mrs. Dotta, if she was doing the right thing.

In the silence that filled the room, her stomach released another ravenous growl. She again balled her fist and pressed her abdomen to subdue the noises. From the rise of Dr. Bates’s eyebrows, she had the feeling he wasn’t having any trouble figuring out her predicament.

“I got no other choice, Doctor,” she explained, trying not to let her desperation show. “I’m real lucky the Mission Society had a spot open up for me.”

Dr. Bates watched her for a moment longer, the sadness in his eyes telling her more than his words could.

She ducked her head and focused on putting the syringe back together. For once she hadn’t come to him needing help with someone else. She’d come because she needed it. She was hungry, homeless, and had no one else to turn to. At the realization, her hands shook.

Thankfully, Dr. Bates didn’t question her further but set to work helping the young mother with her sick babe. All the while he tended the infant, he gave Mercy directives in assisting him. And when they finished with the mother and babe, Dr. Bates asked her to start on the next patient.