Dr. Zoe Cavendish: Frontlines on the Frontier

By Colleen Neily

Based on a true story and set during the Great Depression, Dr. Zoe Cavendish finds herself torn between societal expectations and her desires. Zoe embarks on a pioneering adventure of Northwestern Alberta as one of the first female Canadian doctors. As she traversed the ethical waters as a feminist in 1930, she also had to conquer treacherous challenges, including harsh weather conditions and rugged landscapes, using limited resources. Her dream of being a medical doctor and humanitarian to frontier immigrants and the Indigenous Beaver tribe comes at a great personal cost. Her indomitable, provocative spirit and unwavering determination against all odds propel her forward while torn between love and duty. Will she succeed or succumb to the pressures of society? Find out in this captivating tale of passion, betrayal, and redemption.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Feb 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9781779413376

Colleen Neily

Colleen Neily is a retired Registered Nurse of 42 years, and now she is doing her passion - writing. This debut novel was inspired when she read her great aunt's memoirs as one of the first female Canadian doctors who ventured west as a medical missionary. Neily hopes readers can relate to the characters and find something meaningful in the story. She is working on her next historical novel, The Story of the Sisters of St. Josephs.

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Dr. Zoe Cavendish

Frontlines on the Frontier

Colleen Neily

Dr. Zoe Cavendish

Copyright © 2024 by Colleen Neily

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fiction inspired by a true story. Names, characters, incidents, and places, including organizations and institutions, either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-1-77941-336-9 (Hardcover)

978-1-77941-335-2 (Paperback)

978-1-77941-337-6 (eBook)

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

For Geraldine F. Neily and Michael J. Williams

God’s Watercolour

I look to the skies in the evening,

I look to the skies at night,

I look to the skies for sunshine,

I look to the skies in fright.

And in the wonder of the weather,

Snow, rain, sleet, or hail,

I look to the sky, loving,

To know God will never fail.

For every dawn and sunset,

He puts on such a display,

Of momentary watercolours,

That will take your breath away.

Chapter One

I smoothed the wrinkles on my white blouse and straightened my tie, hiding my identity. Most women would not wear a tie link and a suit in 1929. I pulled the black wool suit collar around my neck for warmth. I gazed out the train window, touching my short brown hair and tucking escaping strands behind my ears.

Daydreaming, I watched the scenery go from bush and hills to brush and plains and then back to the bush, miles upon miles unfolded from east to west across the Canadian provinces. The cross-country train was slow going, with the conductor calling out towns as we came to them, collecting people and goods. Occasionally, we’d slow up for a station to throw out a mail sack. I also observed vagabonds jumping on and off.

I was happy for the long train ride west, reflecting on where I was going and where I had come from. I had been appointed to a medical missionary post in the Peace River Country, specifically the Armstrong settlement in Alberta. I was looking forward to the adventurous frontier post and freedom—freedom from my father and freedom to be me. The tension from my past unravelled as I left everything I had known behind.

After reading an adventure novel about the Peace River, it had been my dream destination for years. I had imagined myself living in the rugged landscape of Alberta’s northern frontier. As I travelled, past emotions were being replaced by joy and excitement.

When I saw the posting for the rural Alberta medical mission through our Faith Church newsletter, it seemed explicitly tailored to me. As a new physician, it was a spontaneous decision to apply, and I hardly gave it a thought when I accepted the post.

When I spoke to my parents about the appointment, my father said, Be careful what you ask from God, as often He provides for you abundantly, just not in the way you thought. I don’t think you should go. Fortunately, I had learned to ignore my parent’s opinion. It was my life, and I was going to live it. The emotion I currently felt was awe-inspiring.

As the train entered the prairie lands, I noticed the winds blowing sand against the caravan in great gusts. I overheard the conductor saying he had never seen it so bad, causing the train to move slower on the Canadian National Railway. After eight days, I changed trains in Edmonton in the early morning, where we picked up a few new passengers. These included natives heading north on the Northern Alberta Railway.

A young woman sat beside me in her charcoal-gray wool skirt and starched white blouse. She folded her white-gloved hands in her lap. She occasionally wiped tears from her eyes. A man sat across from her, his hand reaching to give her his handkerchief. I couldn’t help but think what kind of troubles they had, but I didn’t feel up to doctoring just yet. Plus, I was too shy to engage with strangers on a social level. I squared my shoulders and willed myself to sit straighter, making my tiny frame of five feet a little taller.

It brought me back to medical school, where I struggled as the only woman in the class of 1928. The University of Toronto had only admitted two other females before me. Nevertheless, I had a lot to be proud of, and I realized I needed to crawl out of my shell if I was going to survive Northern Alberta’s new frontier.

Interrupting my thoughts, the fellow across from me said, What in heaven was that? Did you see?

I felt it, I said. The clacking of the rails had been replaced with the sound of spraying sand.

Looking fearful, the teary-eyed young lady looked to the conductor. In a loud voice, he said, Please take your seats, ladies and gentlemen; there is nothing to be alarmed about. The train just passed over a patch of thick sand but has reconnected with the track over the drift. Everything is fine. When ready, please proceed to the meal car for your dining pleasure.

I glanced up, caught the man across looking at me, and said, Well, that was a bit of a scare.

He extended his hand and said, Yes, that was a strange sensation. Let me introduce ourselves. This is my sister, Annie, and I’m James Conrad.

He gave my hand a solid shake and continued. Are you travelling alone?

Yes, I’m alone. I’m Dr. Zoe Cavendish; nice to make your acquaintance.

Would you like to join us in the dining car? he said.

Shifting in my seat, I said, Yes, that would be nice, as I haven’t talked much since I left Toronto eight days ago.

Annie got up, gave James an expectant look, nodded toward the dining car, and then looked at me. Shall we proceed?

When James stood, I noticed he was not much taller than me. He followed me down the aisle to the meal car as I opened and closed the connecting doors. We settled at a table for four, with the conductor rearranging our diner seats.

James was well dressed in a grey wool suit and polished shoes. As he settled into his chair next to the window, my eyes rose over his lean body. The muscles of his arms filled out the sleeves of his dark suit coat. I took in his high cheekbones, straight nose, and dark hair. What a handsome profile! Then he turned, and his dark brown eyes locked on mine. His eyes and smile pierced me, making me blush. I lowered my eyes, hoping he didn’t notice.

Annie sat across from me and gave me a bashful look. Please excuse my manners and show of emotions.

Sometimes, life is difficult, I commented.

Bringing her hand to her forehead with a big sigh, she said, Our cattle farm has not weathered well, and now the depression, along with a drought, our cattle didn’t have enough feed, and we couldn’t get enough skilled help, so here we are. We are heading to the Armstrong area in the northwest. You can get 160 acres of fertile farmland for only ten dollars. Our brother, Peter, has gone ahead and has started clearing the acreage.

Annie feels bad as we have left our parents and sister behind. But I am sure you do not want to hear about our troubles, James said.

I nodded affirmatively and said, It’s hard for everyone these days to escape fears from the recession. When do you think they will join you?

Annie looked up from the one-page menu on the table, We could have brought them out now, except they are sick. Father has another bout of influenza, and Mother has diabetes after having a difficult pregnancy a few years ago with our baby sister. They have good neighbours helping them currently, but everything has been sold. When Father is better, he will work on the new McKenzie highway, which will go through Armstrong.

James shifted uncomfortably in his chair, crossing his legs, I am sure you do not want to hear about our family affairs.

I was surprised that we had the same destination, and I was eager to hear more and said, No, really, it is nice to chat with others. It’s been a long, boring train ride. I’m coming from Ontario.

James crossed his arms and said, Our brother is picking us up in Grand Prairie. There is a lot of work to be done before we consider bringing our parents out. Over the years, they gradually moved west from Ontario, with our father chasing business opportunities. Unfortunately, the last few years have been tough. We’ve gone from riches to rags.

James looked at the menu and continued, In 1903, our father discovered a nickel vein in Sudbury, which gave my parents wealth. With that money, they moved to Hearst, Ontario, and had a successful sawmill. Our last stop was in Calgary, where we raised purebred horses, Shorthorn and Herford cattle. And that’s when our family’s luck ended.

James leaned back in his chair, sipped on his water, and continued, We lost most valuable animals through poor hired help. We were forced to sell. Peter wants us to have a permanent home and stability, so he bought land outside Armstrong. Now that you know all our family secrets, what’s your story? Giving me an expectant look.

Annie leaned in, Yes, Dr. Cavendish, please tell us your story. Why are you coming out here? Are you meeting someone?

Annie, that’s a bit forward, James admonished.

Laughing, I said, That’s all right, James, I don’t mind. But then, I pondered, Where do I start? I have accepted a medical missionary post by the Faith Home Mission, a new community-based Protestant Christian Church.

Oh, are you a minister too? Annie asked.

No, at best, I’m a lay minister. I know basic theology but am far from sanctioned, I replied.

What part of Ontario do you come from? she continued.

I was raised in Toronto in Southern Ontario with pioneering parents from Ireland. Everything I’ve ever known—the farm, my family, my university, and my church—is now in the past. I feel like I’ve suddenly lost everything and am gaining an adventure.

Annie glanced up from the one-page menu. "What made you interested in medicine?

Let me think, I said.

I looked at the Negro waiter taking orders at the following table and continued, Our family farm was mixed. We had chickens, cows, horses, a large vegetable garden, hay fields, apple trees, strawberry fields, and a big maple sugar bush. We could easily sustain ourselves with lots of firewood and a river running through the property. There was so much work that it was hard to get into trouble. The changing of the seasons, planting, and harvesting crops were never-ending. We got to observe birth and death in various form, chick, kittens, cows and horses.

I looked out the train window, remembering the facts, and continued, Once, my sister Grace and I ran out to collect the morning eggs. We stopped suddenly, became glued to the fence, and watched wide-eyed as the miracle of foaling occurred before us. The foal was delivered in a shiny membrane that broke over the forefeet with the mare’s last few violent contractions. In the morning dawn, steam rising, the mare had given birth lying flat on her side. She remained there sweat-soaked and breathing heavily. Time seemed to stand still, and I prayed that she wouldn’t die and the foal would not be smothered in the afterbirth. I instinctively jumped off the fence to help her. Tim, my older brother, ran to get Father, and it seemed like an eternity before the mare moved to rise to her feet, dragging the rest of the fetal membranes with her off the foal. The foal turned onto its side and shook its head, releasing its flattened ears, wet and huge, his dark eyes blinking slowly. Its chestnut colouring matched the mares, but the foal had a white patch on his chest.

Taking a sip of water, I continued, Now that I am a doctor, I love delivering babies and am in awe with each birth. We truly are miracles. Between life and death, we can have a folly of accidents and issues that need mending. So here I am, to mend people.

We are very familiar with death with recently losing so many cattle. It’s been a pretty rough time for us, James said.

I said, "We only had milking cows, not beef cows, thank goodness. I think the most traumatic event for me was when I was about eight; I remember my cat had been killed by something. When I turned to my father for an answer, he said in a very stern voice, ‘It’s dead.’ And he toed the carcass, which lay mangled in the barn dirt. Her name was Misty. As tears ran down my face, he said, ‘The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.’

My father was a lay minister and was always quoting scripture. Then he told me that there is no need for tears, that death is just part of life, and to go and dig her a grave out in the cow pasture. My heart ached, and I questioned God that day about death. How could He be so cruel, taking away the things we loved? My father said, ‘Now off you go, and don’t forget to take the spade. It would be best to dig deep to prevent rodents from eating her.’

Annie’s mouth had dropped open, He sounds a bit insensitive.

No, just a matter-of-fact type of man, I said quietly, trying to respect my father, even though we had a bumpy relationship.

I followed James’s gaze out the window as rusty fall colours passed.

Shifting in my seat, I continued, During the war, I thought of what it would be like to be a medic. My brother Tim died near Vimy Ridge in France. A sniper took him after three dreadful years in the trenches. He was shot in the forehead under his helmet, so at least it was fast. He was so smart and had so much to offer. Life isn’t fair.

Bringing a basket of sourdough bread, the waiter appeared at our table for our order. Annie, forgetting her tears, intentionally leaned towards me. You’ve been on the train system for a while. What would you recommend from this sparse lunch menu?

The pickerel and rice dish is a nice treat as it is usually fresh, and they always serve an assortment of pickles and daily mixed root vegetables, I said.

Clapping her hands together, she said, I’ll have that. Isn’t it exciting eating on a train?

James scooped up a large piece of bread, smothered it with butter, and said, I’ll have that too.

Smiling at his sister, he said. Yes, this is a real treat. We had better enjoy it as we have the frontier to conquer.

As I spread a white linen napkin on my lap, the waiter took my order; after pouring each of us a glass of water, he said in a heavy southern drawl, Your order will be along soon as the meal car is not busy today.

James resettled back in his chair, looked at his sister, and said, My brother and I were too young for the war, although we wanted to enlist. But unfortunately, we were small men, so there was no use in us trying to trick the recruiters, which was a relief to our mother.

James’s dark eyes met mine, and smiling, he said, Dr. Cavendish, you must be a very ambitious lady and not too traditional?

Blushing, I replied, Oh, why do you say that?

Well, it is not normal to see a woman tackling the frontier alone. You’re a doctor, and your short hair, he said.

Laughing, I picked up that habit while in medical school.

Whatever for? he said.

Looking down bashfully, I said, It was easier to look, dress, and act like a man to fit in. The medical graduating class from the University of Toronto in 1928 comprised 26 men and me. Most of the men felt I shouldn’t be there. They resented me. Surprisingly, acting like a man helped my classmates accept me. Plus, I like wearing pants and having short hair. The bob is in.

Annie’s eyes grew wide as dollars, and James chuckled. That was a creative idea, or did they think you were of a different kind?

Sighing, I said, Well, I thought, I may as well go with the flow. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I’d given up on marriage. Father always said I wasn’t marriage material, and I had to find a different path. He felt I was too ambitious, as I could do everything outdoors on the farm that my brothers did. He forced me to help my mother with food and the wee ones in the house, but it was never my favourite. I’m suited for the frontier as I can hitch and drive a carriage, chop wood, and plant crops. I love the outdoors.

Annie leaned forward and whispered, You’re kidding, right? You realize you’re going to the frontier where the men outnumber the women significantly?

Admiring Annie’s animated hand gestures and expressive face, I said. You know, I really can’t see it. I will be so busy with doctoring and the Faith Home Mission work. They want me to preach and be a doctor in a large rural area. I won’t have time for a husband even though I want one.

James’s eyes twitched a bit. Where exactly have you been appointed?

I’m heading to the Armstrong area too. My first post is twenty-five miles west of it, called Field. I said, smiling at him. Our eyes locked.

Really, James said. He smiled back, keeping his eyes on mine, and continued, If you need any help with your mission, I would be happy to assist you. Without the area’s steady moral structure, the frontier culture will become wild, especially now that the gold rush is on. It would also be good to give some morals to the Indians. They are so different from us. They need to be cultivated.

My physical attraction to James annoyed me as I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks, and a flush ran through my body. We’ll see. I have been given very little information on this endeavour as I was rushed out here. They informed me that the fall season ends in October, and the winter snow descends early.

James’s eyes narrowed in concern, and he said, I hope you brought lots of warm clothes; it can get as low as minus sixty degrees. You will need a warm, cozy cabin.

Annie shifted in her chair excitedly and said, And if you need assistance with your practice, I’m a great helper. I’m thinking about being a nurse.

I moved my satchel of books to the empty chair beside me.

She noticed and said, Do you like to read?

"Yes, I have an insatiable need for books, which is how I dreamed of coming out here. I was intrigued when I read an adventure book about the