The Prairie Doctor's Bride

by Kathryn Albright

  Carl stood at the door. “You really are determined to stay here?”

  “I am.” She took hold of Berta and walked her outside into the sunshine, where she tied her up to the water pump.

  “Tommy, you grab that rake and start raking all the wet straw out of the shed.”

  “Can’t we go back to town, Ma?” Tommy whined.

  “No, we can’t,” she said, but the idea tempted her more than she’d thought it would. It would pass, she told herself. “Get busy now. You too, Carl. Grab a shovel and help.”

  He stood there in the middle of her yard and laughed. “I ain’t going to help you, you crazy woman. You’ve been hanging on to a dream for eight years, ever since my brother built you this place. It’s time for you to wake up.”

  “I homesteaded it more’n five years. I own this place. Tommy does too. It’s all I got in the world!”

  “Look at it, Sylvia. It ain’t worth all your hard effort. Let it go.”

  She gazed around at the mess of her house and property and the will to keep trying slowly seeped out of her. Carl was right. Maybe this was too much for any woman to take on by herself. Maybe she should give up.

  “We’ve been friends since we was kids. You and Tommy need to come make your home with me now. I’ll even say words in front of a parson if it’s all that important to you.”

  She knew he meant what he said, but she also knew he was sober right now. Things always changed when he drank. There was no way she would soften toward him, no way she’d let him be more than an uncle to Tommy. She didn’t love him in that way.

  “Now that I know what is left here after the storms, I need to do some thinking, Carl. It was too hard to figure things out while I was in town and worrying about the animals. And it’s too hard to figure things out all at once right now.” She took a deep breath. “You are right about me holding on to dreams. Thomas and me had some powerful ones. Doc even said the same thing.”

  Carl scowled at that.

  “I have to think what’s best for Tommy.” She had choices. There were always choices if a person looked hard enough.

  He walked over to his horse and mounted. “You are so hardheaded! Always have been. Go ahead, then. Think on it. Nothing will change, Sylvia. Nothing. I’ll be back in a week to see if you have come to your senses.”

  She and Tommy worked the rest of the afternoon, cleaning up what they could. Tommy talked a lot. He brought up things he’d done in town and things the Blackwell and Austin boys had said that made him laugh. He talked about the doc too. A lot of things he said squeezed her heart, things that made her realize he was growing up. He had been happy there in town and no one in that short amount of time had said anything hurtful to him.

  It helped to work hard. It made the thinking easier somehow. Clearer.

  That night she gathered her blankets and dragged the straw pallets from the house to the shed so that they’d have a soft place to sleep. It wasn’t because she was so happy to have found Berta and a few chickens. It was because she was afraid of the roof falling down on Tommy and her if they stayed in the house.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The next morning, Tommy made a point of telling her his pallet wasn’t nearly as soft as the bed they’d used at the doc’s.

  “I ain’t whining, Ma. Doc says that a man don’t whine. Says a man can feel a lot of things, but it ain’t supposed to show on his face or come out his mouth.”

  “He did, did he?” If that was the truth, Nelson hadn’t succeeded all that well when he told her not to leave. He hadn’t whined—but the love he felt for her sure did show on his face. It took her breath away thinking of it even now. Had she been a fool to give up on that kind of love?

  “Yep,” Tommy said, continuing his train of thought. “Says he thinks about that and has to be careful when he is doctoring. If he sees something really ugly like a dog bite or a fishhook stuck in a thumb, he has to act all doctorly like it don’t bother him.”

  She stood there while her son chattered on, her hands on her hips. She turned in a full circle, surveying all that needed doing—the house and all that was in it, the shed and the animals. She didn’t know where to begin. Guess the first thing was to haul out the pots and pans and make a fire pit they could use for cooking outside. Then she and Tommy could gather some greens so they’d have something to eat for the day. It was a nice, warm morning, so she pulled the table and chairs from inside the house and set them in the middle of the yard.

  Over the next two days they worked hard. Sylvia was proud of her son, but it bothered her that she had made him trade having moments of fun with his new friends in town for hours of hard work with her. A balance of the two would have been better.

  “Ma! Look!”

  The middle of the third morning that they were home, Tommy pointed down the lane. A horse and buggy came into view from around the bend. Sylvia walked over to stand with her son. Visitors? Here?

  Tommy let out a whoop. “It’s Rhett and Wyatt!”

  Brett Blackwell reined the horse to a stop and climbed down. “We heard you came back to your place and my Fiona worried for you. She sent some things.” He went to the back of the buggy and took out a large basket, carrying it over to the table.

  Fiona had worried for her? Her vision blurred suddenly. She cupped her hand over her mouth and followed him to the table. What had he brought?

  She pulled back the cover. Two loaves of bread sat atop jars full of fruit and others full of vegetables that filled the bottom of the large basket.

  Behind her, Rhett and Wyatt jumped down from the buggy. Tommy called to them to come meet Berta and see his chickens. In a dash, they disappeared into the shed.

  “This is so much, Mr. Blackwell.”

  “Fiona wants you to have it. She said you helped her with our baby and now she will help you.”

  That made her feel better. It was more like bartering and not really charity. “Th-thank you.”

  “Next time we visit, she will come.” He grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t want to travel with Cordelia over the river. She’s so little.”

  She smiled back, remembering he was a new father. But next time? She liked the sound of that.

  “What can I help with?” He stared at the house and frowned. “You need new roof.”

  She chuckled. “I think I need a new house.”

  “Ha!”

  For the next half hour, the boys and Brett helped her drag everything from the house into the shed. Brett stood on a chair and used some of her oilcloth to cover the hole that Tommy had made with his foot. When that was done, he said he had to get back.

  “I bring men from town in a few days and we cut new roof.”

  Now, that was too much! “Mr. Blackwell, I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve got your work at the smithy.”

  “You are our friend.” He said it as if that overturned any of her objections.

  Just like that she spouted tears. It was too much. His kindness, Fiona’s kindness and Tommy laughing with his boys.

  He stared at her, his expression troubled. “You should come back. Out here, alone. This is not good for you.”

  “I ain’t alone. I have Tommy.”

  Brett shook his head. “It’s not good. Doc needs your help.”

  With that, he called for the boys to get into the buggy and headed back down the lane.

  The next day, Teddy and Hannah White came with their wagon. Hannah held her four-month-old in her lap.

  What was going on?

  Hannah waved from her seat. “Hi, Sylvia. Dora was fretful again, so we thought a ride in the country might be just the thing to calm her.”

  “This is a long way to come,” Sylvia said, doubtful that they’d told her the entire truth, but happy to see them. They just happened to bring a picnic lunch with them to share.

  “Doc said you
liked to garden,” Hannah said, handing Sylvia several seed packets.

  Then Wednesday, another wagon came. This time it was Miss Weber and Miss Simcock and the two men they had married on Sunday. After the introductions, Miss Simcock handed down a bundle wrapped in brown paper. “You forgot some things at the doc’s.”

  It was the dress and the nightgown.

  “But they belong to you!”

  “Mrs. Taylor made us both new dresses for the wedding,” Miss Weber said.

  “And nightgowns too,” Miss Simcock said with a giggle and a glance toward her new husband. “We wished that you had been there. We looked for you.”

  “I bet it was really something,” Sylvia said. “I’ve never been to a wedding with so many brides at one time.” If she had lived in town, she would have made sure to go.

  This was starting to be a pattern. So much so that when Thursday came, she was disappointed that no one came to visit and was lonely despite having Tommy with her. She and Tommy spent the day searching for their sheep for the second time. They were unsuccessful. She hoped the two had found their way to Adele and Julian’s farm.

  Then Friday rolled around and who should she see coming down the lane but Mrs. Graham and Abigail White.

  Abigail, with her sharp reporter’s eye, surveyed Sylvia’s homestead from her seat on the buggy.

  Sylvia could tell they were both shocked at the condition of things. “I know it’s not much. But it’s mine and Tommy’s,” Sylvia said, trying to keep the defensive tone from her voice.

  “You have a lot of hard work ahead of you,” Abigail said as she climbed from the buggy. “I don’t know what happened between you and the doc, but he hasn’t been the same since you left.”

  “He has been a grump,” Mrs. Graham said. She peered down at the long way to the ground.

  “I’ll get a chair,” Sylvia said, on realizing her dilemma. She dragged a chair over and assisted the woman down.

  “Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Graham said, giving her a quick hug.

  Sylvia couldn’t have been more shocked.

  “I’ve been in the reporting business for many years,” Abigail said, drawing her attention. “I have learned that everybody has secrets.”

  Sylvia stiffened.

  “Now, don’t be alarmed. Yours isn’t really a secret. Not since Carl Caulder shot off his mouth years ago. That’s done and over now.”

  She said it so easily, so directly. As if it didn’t matter anymore at all. Done and over.

  “Then whose secrets are you talking about?”

  “Dr. Graham and the list he has of qualities he wants in a woman.”

  Sylvia stopped walking. That list was Nelson’s business and no others’. She didn’t like Abigail talking about it. “How did you find out about that?”

  “I might have said something on our way here,” Mrs. Graham said. “I also told Abigail that my son asked you to marry him, but that you declined.”

  Sylvia bristled. That wasn’t anyone’s business but hers and the doc’s. “You got no call to do that! Nelson is a fine man and he deserves a fine wife. I can’t meet any part of that list.” She turned to Abigail. “Mrs. Graham even said so.”

  The two women looked at each other and then back at her.

  “I regret those words I said in anger. They weren’t true.” Mrs. Graham took hold of her hands. “Why, Sylvia Marks. Don’t you know? The reason you don’t see yourself in that list is because you are more than that list. You exceed all the qualities he wants. Nelson understands that. He figured it out long ago, when he asked you to marry him.”

  Overcome with her feelings, Sylvia covered her mouth with her fingers and backed away. “That can’t be—”

  Mrs. Graham smiled sadly. “I wish you would reconsider, dear. I want so much for my son. I want him to be happy.”

  “I want that for him too.”

  “I know you do.” She sighed. “I asked him to come with us today. He wouldn’t. His pride won’t let him.”

  When the two women headed back to Oak Grove, all Sylvia could do was sit down at the table in the middle of her yard and think on those words. Her past was done and over. And she was more.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Ma? Are we done working?” Tommy whined.

  Sylvia appraised Berta with a critical eye. The dust still floated in the air after her brushing, but her coat was cleaner than it had been in a long time. Sylvia tossed the grooming brush onto a sack of grain. “Done.”

  The physical work had been good for her. It gave her a chance to ponder things. All the people who had come by that week had said they missed her. She would have never thought they thought about her at all, but each of them recalled a time that she had done something for them that helped them in their time of need. They also said that the doc was grumpier than ever now, without her help.

  She had thought about the doc all week and wondered a great deal how he was getting along. They were both so different. Nelson came from a world of boarding schools and rides in the park and concerts. And she came from the hills of Virginia. Knowing that, it hadn’t stopped them from becoming friends. He could charm the feathers off a bird if he had a mind to. Or milk from Penny—she started to smile—or love from a woman who had had too little of it.

  Maybe it could work.

  She was smart. And strong. And full of love for him.

  Maybe, and she hated to admit this, but maybe she had been full of pride too. She’d held her past pulled around her like a shield against what others might say, when in truth, most had moved on and were concerned with their own lives. Not hers. The doc and Abigail had said that she let her past have too much power over her. They might be right.

  “Ma! Look!”

  She glanced over to see Tommy showing off, his hands on the ground, his feet in the air and braced up against the shed. He sure gave her joy. She wanted to do right by him. Could she give him a better life if she faced up to things in town?

  She wondered if Nelson might have had something to do with all the folks who had come visiting. She surely did love that man. He had asked her to be a part of his life, and she had foolishly run back to what was safe for her—what she knew.

  Maybe she had given up too soon. Mable Gallagher had been rude to her. Next time—she took a deep breath—next time she would stand up for herself. She was smart. And strong. She was more.

  When she first spoke with Nelson, he had said the women from the train were brave because they’d realized their situation needed to change and they’d done something about it. Well—she could be every bit as brave.

  It was worth another try. It was worth a much bigger try than the one she had given the doc and herself. He was a proud man. He wouldn’t come after her. He’d respect her decision. That was his way.

  She looked out across the land that she’d worked so hard for, that was now hers and Tommy’s. When Carl brought her back, he had said that nothing had changed. He was wrong. The thing that had changed was her.

  She wanted more—for herself and for her son. And she was ready to work for it.

  “Tommy, come over here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  An entire week had gone by since Sylvia left. The five women who’d arrived by train had married, their weddings taking place without a hitch. Nelson had attended the ceremony and congratulated each new groom, sincerely happy for each couple. He knew now that Sylvia was the only woman he wanted beside him in his life. No other would do.

  His mother rose from the table and carried both of their empty plates to the counter. She could cook! That had come as a surprise after all these years. Something weighed on her thoughts this morning.

  “I’ll be returning to Boston in another week,” she said. “I wish you would reconsider and come with me.”

  “I’m needed here, Mother.”

&nb
sp; “I see that. I...still won’t give up the hope that someday you will return home.”

  “This is my home now. However, now that I know I am welcome, I will come to visit.”

  A small smile tilted her lips. “I’d like that.”

  She looked down at the handkerchief in her hands, picking at the lace edge.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I’ve been worried...” She met his gaze. “Did I do the right thing in telling you the truth about Ellison? About me?”

  He mulled that over. Would it have been better to continue as he had, believing that Ellison was his father? Intrinsic to that was the belief that there was something wrong in himself because his father didn’t want him.

  He stood and walked over to her. “Knowing the truth is better. I can deal head-on with the truth. It’s much harder to do that with secrets and lies.” He slipped his arms around her. “It was the right thing for me.” In a week, life would return to the way that it had been before his mother’s arrival, with one big change. He would be at peace with the man who raised him.

  “Thank you, son.” She leaned into him, hugging him back.

  It wasn’t the least bit awkward. Nothing like the first hug they’d shared at the train station.

  She pulled away, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. “Well. I must get ready for church. Give me ten minutes.”

  He walked into his study. All he wanted was to be a doctor and hone his skills so that he could help people. He had hoped to have Sylvia by his side on that journey. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared out the window, gazing out over the endless prairie behind his house. Maybe, after his mother left, he would head to Denver for a week or two. He could see the sights. Maybe attend a medical meeting.

  He walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Mother? I’ll wait outside for you.”

  Behind him, he heard the click of a rifle being cocked.

  “I got me a gun here.”

  He froze. All his senses suddenly pulsing with energy. Sylvia.

  “Don’t turn around.”