The Prairie Doctor's Bride

by Kathryn Albright

  “You mean that, Doc? You think I’d make a passable nurse?” Sylvia asked.

  For the first time since he’d known her, she sounded unsure and tentative—nothing like the woman who had held him at gunpoint. “Yes. More than passable.”

  He didn’t know what to make of this side of the woman. The more he knew of her, the more enchanted he became. Each new thing he learned was incongruent to his original assumption. It was easier to keep her pigeonholed in a neat little box as an eccentric, backwoods woman—someone who regular society tolerated but essentially had passed over.

  He was finding that she wasn’t anything like that at all.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sylvia jumped up quickly. “Might you stay awhile? I could probably rustle up some coffee.”

  She swallowed hard, already regretting the words that had rushed out of her. Of course he couldn’t stay. He was much too busy of a man to spend an afternoon with two near strangers. There were others who needed him, others he would surely rather be with than her and Tommy. What was she thinking by trying to keep him here any longer than a minute? That Tommy was as important as those others? That she was?

  She near held her breath, waiting for his answer. It came to her then that she wanted him to stay more than just about anything else. He talked to her—and really listened to what she said, like her thoughts were important. Tommy too. He made her feel good—whole. Even when they argued—like over the honey.

  And she wasn’t even going to consider what had happened when he took her hands. His touch had done things—calmed her, steadied her and warmed her all at the same time.

  “I suppose you have other people to see today,” she said. “People who are ailing. I—We don’t want to keep you.”

  He studied her with those deep green eyes of his. He was so smart and had such an important calling. Why would he want to spend any more time with her and Tommy?

  “You don’t happen to have any of that dark bread, do you?” His voice was deep and measured.

  “The molasses bread? Sure. I got some.” She held her breath. Would he stay?

  “So that is what makes it sweet.”

  She nodded. “It’s the sorghum.”

  “Do you smear that on wounds too?”

  “Oh, it’s not the same as honey!” Then she realized that his eyes were twinkling. He was teasing her! She was caught with a fit of shyness as her cheeks warmed.

  It had been a last-minute thought to grab that loaf and take it to him. She’d wanted him to have the honey. She’d teased him about using it to sweeten himself, but it had been in her mind that he could use it in his doctoring. It hadn’t occurred to her that he wouldn’t even believe it could be of help. Sometimes she just didn’t know what to make of him.

  He slid back into the chair, looking a lot like Tommy did when he was expecting cake.

  She couldn’t keep down her smile, so she turned toward the hearth to hide it. Looked like she had a guest! Something that hadn’t happened in a long, long time. Her insides suddenly had butterflies flying every which way. She pressed her hand against her tummy to quiet them. Taking a match from the tin box on the mantel, she crouched down at the hearth and started a fire. Then filled her pot with water and a handful of chicory root.

  “What was all the laughing going on as I walked up to your door?”

  She rose up. “Oh, we were playing our Sunday game. Since we don’t go to church, I try to teach Tommy what he’s missing right here. When the lesson is done, we play a game to help make the learning stick.”

  “I can’t remember a time that my mother played a game with me. Or my father, for that matter.”

  Her heart clutched. What was there to say to that? Even her own mother had turned a rope now and then so that she could jump with her friends. “Maybe she was too busy with cooking and cleaning and all.”

  “We had two maids, a cook and a butler.”

  She couldn’t imagine having that much help around. “Well, it sounds like you could do with learning a game or two.”

  “I play chess. Matter of fact, I have a standing appointment every Sunday afternoon with the mayor to play chess with him.”

  “That so? But you’re here today.”

  “He postponed it until later.”

  “Well, I never played that myself, so I couldn’t teach Tommy.” She turned to her son. “Why don’t you show the doc the game we were playing and explain it to him? Might be you can beat him if you try hard.”

  While her son did as she asked, she pulled the molasses bread from the pantry cupboard and cut it into thick, hearty slices. Then she walked out to the well and drew up the crock of butter she’d made for the week. She set everything on the cutting board and carried it over to the table.

  When the doc took a bite of her bread, a look of pure contentment passed over his features. It caused a warm, contented feeling to rise up in her. And seeing how much Tommy enjoyed the doc’s company made that feeling grow.

  Doc Graham was a handsome man. She liked his strong forehead and the way his dark mustache and small beard were trimmed. But most of all she liked his eyes. Not that they were a pretty, deep green, the color of a Virginia pine—although that was nice—but that they saw beyond the surface of things. And they were kind.

  The thought made her consider the last time she’d been in town. What was that woman doing helping in the doc’s office when she couldn’t stand the sight of someone sick? Sylvia hadn’t said anything to the doc, but she sure didn’t care for that woman. Whoever she was had complained and spoken ill of the doc and then the entire town of Oak Grove as Sylvia helped her across the street. Then, once she had emptied her stomach in the umbrella stand at the hotel, she’d given Sylvia a mean look, wrenched her arm away and tromped up the stairs to her room with a big flounce of her skirt. Sylvia hadn’t been expecting a thank-you, but that look had been enough to make a body’s soul wither.

  The pot was steaming over the small fire now. Sylvia grabbed a towel to protect her hands from the hot handle and poured two cups. Tommy had eaten his portion of bread and now continued the game on his slate by himself.

  “Doc, how come that woman was helping you with Mr. Brown?” she asked, setting the pot back over the hearth.

  “Miss Vandersohn is one of the women that came West to be a bride. We were taking a stroll together when Wally got hurt.”

  Her stomach did an odd flip. That was right. He’d said he was looking for a woman who could cook. She sat down at the table. “How many women answered the call?”

  “Five this time.”

  “That’s a good number. Should make five men real happy.”

  A pang of envy stung her conscience. One of those men would be the doc. He’d make a good husband despite what he had said, even if he did put his doctoring first. A woman would be blessed to be a constant in his life. A heavy weight sank inside her at the thought.

  Once, she had dreamed of a proper marriage where she and her husband would work hard to make a home together. But when Thomas up and died before wedding her, leaving her in a family way, Carl had said no man would take on a fallen woman and someone else’s brat. She’d had her one and only chance.

  She would have welcomed a man to help share the good times and the rough times. She had always expected to work, but not like she was doing now. Some days she was bone weary with it. She hoped those women fared better. As for her? She’d had to put those dreams away.

  “Has Miss Vandersohn recovered?”

  He snorted. “Undeniably. And she made it very clear that she would not accompany me on a stroll anytime in the near future.”

  She couldn’t help it—she grinned, unaccountably relieved. “I had a feeling that might happen.”

  He took a gulp of his coffee. “It’s probably for the best. I don’t believe she had the necessary fortitude to be a doctor’s wife.
”

  “That does require grit on a woman’s part,” she said matter-of-factly. “Well, you got four more chances to find a bride.”

  “To be exact—two. Miss Pratt is too much like me. I think we would get on each other’s nerves within a fortnight. And another woman giggles nervously at every turn. I’m not sure that her condition is curable.” He leaned forward, closing the space between them all to a more intimate distance. “Imagine her helping while I perform surgery, only to have her burst into a fit of nervous giggles.”

  She struggled to stifle her smile. “That might scare the poor person you’re trying to help.”

  “Exactly.” He pulled back and took another bite of bread.

  My, it was nice to hear him talk on and on. His voice was so rich and low that it mattered little what he said. She just liked the tone. “Sounds like you’re having a trying time finding a cook and a bride.”

  “None have worked out so far.” He let out a long breath. “I joke about it, but I am probably hoping for too much. I like my choice of career. But the fact is, it’s a huge responsibility to be the sole person taking care of the ailments and broken bones of such a vast area. I’m challenged by it...and humbled by it at the same time.” His gaze deepened, as though he was looking inward. “There is something rewarding about knowing my patients and understanding their family situations. It’s like being invited in to be a member of their family for the most critical moments in their lives.”

  Her breathing stilled on his words. She’d never had a man speak to her so. Never had a man share a piece of himself like the doc was.

  “Of course,” he continued, suddenly breaking the mood he was in, “in your case, you didn’t exactly invite me.”

  She giggled and then cupped her hand over her mouth, remembering what he’d said about the woman who giggled all the time. “No. That definitely wouldn’t be called an invitation.”

  The doc laughed at something Tommy did in the game. He didn’t seem to realize he’d turned her world on its ear with what he’d said.

  The afternoon wore on until the shadow of the shed fell on the cabin and a swirl of cooler air blew inside. The doc looked up from the game the same moment that she did. “It’s getting late. I should go.”

  A pang of disappointment shot through her. Of course, he had to get back. It was just that it had been a day she’d never forget. She was sure Tommy felt the same way. Reluctantly, she rose to her feet.

  “I expect it’s time I see to Berta and Penny.” Maybe doing her evening chores would help put her feet back on the ground after the past few hours.

  The doc raised his brows. “Berta and Penny?”

  “Well, you’ve met Berta, my mule. Penny is my goat. You enjoyed her butter on your bread.”

  “Ah, yes. She greeted me on my arrival. She makes good butter.”

  Why did he keep looking at her like that? As if he was pondering something about her. She had caught that same stare two other times through the afternoon. It made her feel all tingly inside. She wasn’t sure that was a good thing to be feeling about any man. She’d learn from experience that they were hard to trust. The doc, however, seemed different than any she had ever met before.

  “Could you help Tommy walk one more time?” she asked. “He did real well with you on one side and me on the other.”

  He nodded. With their help, Tommy took four steps before asking to stop.

  “Try it again before you get in bed tonight,” he ordered and ruffled her son’s hair.

  Then he shrugged into his fancy coat and hat and ducked out the door.

  She still found it hard to believe he had stayed all afternoon. They walked, side by side, to the edge of her yard, which skirted the vast prairie and the dirt road. The sun hung low, casting an orange glow on the rolling fields. “I want to thank you for paying so much attention to Tommy. He sure liked playing that game with you.”

  He studied the shed and then the soddy in that quiet way he had. “How do you manage to live way out here?”

  “I have good neighbors down the road a ways—Julian and Adele DuBois. They’ve been a lot of help to me and Tommy. I manage.”

  “It would be easier for you in town.”

  “I’m not welcome in town. Tommy either.” A familiar lump formed in her stomach. She hated to talk about that part of her life. It was personal. Seemed her one wrong choice would haunt her forever. It was Thomas who had failed her, yet she would bear the weight of it.

  “You saw,” she said. “And you probably heard...that first day at the mercantile.” She was aware the Gallaghers were quick to gossip about most anything.

  “Sylvia...I don’t know what happened in your past, but you can’t let it hound you the rest of your life. There are a lot of new folks in town. And more coming every day.”

  “Like those women who want to be brides?”

  “They’d give you a chance. I would if it were up to me.”

  Didn’t he know it hurt her to see those women and their hope when she had none? Didn’t he understand? In the end, it was safer not to feel anything, safer to stay tough. Then it wouldn’t hurt so much to be snubbed. “They would only find out about me. That woman in the mercantile would see to that.”

  “Mable Gallagher?”

  She swallowed. “Her or Carl.”

  The concern on his handsome face made her insides shake. Like he cared something for her and Tommy. He might think he was helping, but she couldn’t let herself get soft and think that others would welcome her. It just wasn’t so. The few times she let her guard down, something always happened and it made everything worse.

  She looked over the prairie toward the setting sun. He had ruined a perfectly wonderful day.

  “Sylvia.”

  At his voice, she looked down and concentrated on the dirt on the toes of her shoes. It helped to hold back the sting of tears. “I know things ain’t perfect here, Doc, but I’m doing the best I know how raising Tommy. I know what those kids at school would call him. I couldn’t stand to have him hurt like that. We are better off on our side of the river and away from all them people. Now, I don’t want to hear any more about town.”

  “Fine. No more talk of town. But I want to see your arm. The one with the bruise.”

  Her breath left her. If he saw the bruise, he would know it wasn’t from any old bump. Carl’s fingers had left a recognizable imprint.

  She covered the spot on her arm, shielding it from his view, even though she knew her long sleeve hid the purple-and-yellow skin. She backed up a step. “I don’t need doctoring.”

  His gaze held hers. Serious. Determined. “Let me see.”

  He wasn’t going to let this go. At the thought, she went numb inside. Better to be numb than to feel anything.

  Slowly, he moved away her hand that shielded her injury. Then, ever so gently, he rolled up her sleeve.

  At his touch, she crumpled. He was so tender, so cautious. She looked away, struggling to hold back the burning of unshed tears. He’d see. He’d know. And he’d be disgusted.

  Her sleeve was high enough now. He turned her arm, checking the whole of the bruised area. Then he lowered her arm, pulling the material back down over it without saying a word.

  She shrank on the inside. What must he be thinking?

  “This has nothing to do with a fall or stumbling against anything.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She didn’t want to see what was there on his face.

  “Are there any more bruises?”

  She shook her head.

  “Is this a...gift...from Caulder? He did this to you?”

  “He don’t know his own strength sometimes.”

  “This has happened before?”

  Anger. It was anger she heard in the doc’s voice, but it wasn’t directed at her. She raised her gaze to his. “Not for a l
ong time. He only came back around last week when you saw him in the mercantile. Before that, he was gone for three years. He’s Thomas’s older brother. We came out here together, the three of us, from Virginia. Carl helped Thomas build this soddy, but mostly Thomas did all the work.”

  “What happened to Thomas?”

  “At the last, we put on the roof and the DuBois boys came by to help. They asked if Thomas and Carl wanted to head south with them to join a cattle drive the next day. Thomas had never been on a drive before but figured he’d be back in a few months and have enough money to see us through our first winter. I asked him to wait a day, to go into town and see to a wedding first like he had promised my ma and pa and his parents too, but he was in an all-fired hurry to meet up with the DuBois boys. It didn’t help that Carl was egging him on.”

  The furrows deepened between the doc’s brows. “He never came back?”

  She nodded. “Adele came by to stay with me a spell after that. I think she felt responsible in a way, since it was her sons who had asked Thomas to join up with them. She’s the one who recognized I was carrying Tommy and came by to help again when my time came.”

  “I’m glad you weren’t alone.” His eyes still sparked with anger.

  “Tommy looks a lot like his father,” she said, proud of that. “Thomas was good and smart and...kind.” She rushed to say the last. She didn’t want the doc thinking that she would ever give herself to someone like Carl.

  “But Carl was jealous that I chose his brother over him. He came around after Thomas died and learned I was in a family way. He thought I would fall all over him, wanting to give my baby the Caulder name quick before Tommy was born. But I couldn’t do that. Carl always has been a mean one when he drinks. He would have been mean to me and mean to Tommy.”

  “I take it that Carl didn’t like being rejected.”

  “He talked it up all over Oak Grove, letting people know I was never married and that my baby was a...” She wouldn’t say the ugly word. “Since then, I don’t go into town much. Something bad always happens when I do.”