Wanting You

by Nan Ryan

  “Thank heaven you’re here at last,” she called out. “I had about given up on you.”

  The physician reached the gallery steps. “I am sorry, Anna. I got, ah, tied up and I just couldn’t break away.”

  Anna was immediately contrite. “Oh, then I’m the one who should apologize. Has someone in town fallen seriously ill and…?” Anna stopped speaking. She studied the doctor’s face, which was rapidly turning red under her close scrutiny. Immediately she sensed that it wasn’t a sick patient that had made him so late. Her intuition told her it was something much more exciting.

  Anna tilted her head to one side, began to smile and said, “Tell me, Doctor, exactly what, or should I say who, held you up?”

  Dr. McCelland’s red face grew redder still. He didn’t dare admit to the real reason for his tardiness. He couldn’t tell Anna—or anyone—that he hadn’t been delayed by a seriously ill patient, but by an incredibly healthy woman who had held him willing prisoner in her luxurious bedroom until she was finally sated and had fallen asleep.

  The doctor said, “Anna, there’s no time for explanations, we’re way behind schedule.”

  “So I noticed,” Anna teased, and followed him into the house.

  She noticed something else, as well. Although the doctor looked haggard, as if he hadn’t had enough sleep, he appeared to be strangely serene. Pleased with himself and his world. So content he couldn’t hide it.

  And when she followed him down the hall to LaDextra’s sitting room, she detected a new spring to his step, a prouder set to his shoulders, a strong sense of command that hadn’t been there before.

  Anna puzzled over the startling change in this good friend who no longer seemed to be so shy, so boyish. There was about him the appearance and carriage of a totally confident man. What, she wondered, had brought about this amazing transformation? She could hardly wait to talk to Sally. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be Sally.

  At LaDextra’s door, Dr. McCelland stopped and said, “Wait for me here, Anna. I won’t be long.”

  “I most certainly will not,” she replied, shaking her head. “I’m going in with you and—”

  “No,” he stated decisively, “you are not.”

  Anna blinked in surprise. He had never spoken to her like that. He calmly continued, “LaDextra is my patient. Privacy between patient and physician is absolutely necessary.”

  Anna frowned, confused. “But you let me assist you with your patients when we’re at one of the division headquarters.”

  “Yes, I do. But we are not at one of the division headquarters now,” the doctor pointed out. “So let me repeat, you are to wait right here.”

  He gave her no chance to respond. He stepped inside LaDextra’s sitting room and closed the door firmly behind him.

  “How are you feeling this morning, LaDextra?” he asked in a soft, caring voice, crossing to the seated woman.

  The white-haired Regent matriarch looked up at him with dull eyes and admitted, “Doctor, I’m not going to lie to you. I feel really awful. Not fit for nothing. Totally useless.”

  He was already getting his stethoscope out of his bag. “Are you having chest pains again?”

  “No, those pills you gave me have helped control the pain. It’s just that I am so tired and worthless all the time. I can hardly sit up in this chair.”

  He nodded, placed the stethoscope to her heart. For several long seconds Dr. McCelland listened to the aging heart that clearly would not—could not—beat much longer. When he withdrew the stethoscope, he patted LaDextra’s age-spotted hand.

  “Don’t sugarcoat it for me, Doctor,” she said, managing a faint smile. “Tell me the truth. I’m not going to last much longer at all, am I?”

  “No, LaDextra, you’re not,” he said, his expression somber. “Time is rapidly running out, I’m afraid.” He paused, cleared his throat and said, “Are you ready now to let Anna and Brit know that—”

  “Not on your life!” LaDextra said with as much force as she could muster. “Surely I’ve got a couple of weeks left.” She lifted white eyebrows questioningly. “Haven’t I?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Well, I need just a little more time to make up my mind about something.” She didn’t tell the physician that she was still struggling to reach a decision regarding the contents of her last will and testament.

  “Don’t wait too long,” he advised. Then he murmured, “I could make an excuse to Anna, tell her I don’t need her to go with me to the Texas Star. Leave her here to keep you company.”

  “Don’t do that,” said LaDextra. “She’s been looking forward to going.” The aged woman again smiled and added, “Besides, I don’t plan on dying today.”

  Dr. McCelland smiled back at her. “It may be quite late when we get back this evening.”

  “That’s fine,” said LaDextra. “Don’t worry about it. If it’s too late when you finish up out there, just spend the night with the division boss and his wife.”

  The doctor picked up his black bag. “I hope an overnight won’t be necessary, but I’m told that several children on the Texas Star have come down with chills and fever so…” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

  “Do what you have to do, Doctor. If the two of you don’t get back tonight, I’ll know where you are.”

  “Very well,” he said. “You get some rest.”

  “I will.”

  He hastily crossed the room, but LaDextra stopped him before he could open the door. “By the way, Doc…” she began, and he turned around. He saw that her dulled eyes were now twinkling mischievously. She pursed her lips, then said, “Who is she?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Who’s the lucky woman that kept you up all night?”

  Dr. McCelland blushed, but didn’t deny it. “How did you know?”

  “Actually, I didn’t,” she said, eyes really flashing now. “You just told me.”

  “So I did,” he said, and grinned. “I’m sorry it made me late and—”

  “Don’t be,” she interrupted. “I’ve a feeling it was worth it.”

  “Yes,” he confessed, “it certainly was.”

  “Good!”

  “LaDextra Regent, you’re a very kind lady,” he said, grateful to her for being understanding.

  “Not kind,” she corrected, “but wise, perhaps. Wise enough to know that you better grab all the happiness you can get wherever and whenever you can.” Her blue eyes clouded slightly then, and she added, “Because it all goes by—” she snapped her fingers “—just like that.”

  On the long, hot ride out to the Texas Star, Anna finally figured out what had caused such a change in Dr. McCelland. The two of them talked little as they galloped across the barren deserts under a high white sun, but each time Anna cast a quick glance at the doctor from under her lowered hat brim, she caught him sighing with seeming satisfaction. Or blushing at some vivid memory. Or simply grinning foolishly.

  It took her a while to figure it out, then all at once it dawned on her.

  Dr. McCelland was behaving exactly as she had behaved the morning after Brit had made love to her! How well she remembered awakening with a warm, wonderful feeling of incredible well-being. She had lingered in bed for a few precious moments of sweet contentment, sighing and smiling and stretching and blushing at the recollection of their wildly intimate lovemaking. How unbelievably happy she had been from the time she had opened her eyes until that horrible moment when she had stepped inside the dining room and had had her dreams—and her heart—so callously stepped on.

  Anna glanced back at the doctor. He was grinning again, unable or unwilling to hide his sheer delight. Apparently he was more fortunate than she. His lover hadn’t tired of him as soon as they had surrendered to desire. Anna was glad. Happy for him. And happy, as well, for the woman who had captured this kind man’s heart.

  The hot, perspiring pair reached the Texas Star shortly before one o’clock. There was no time to rest for a few minutes
and cool off. At the salmon-hued adobe division headquarters, dozens of sick, feverish children awaited them, many crying, all needing immediate attention.

  The pair worked tirelessly side by side throughout the long, scalding afternoon, caring for their patients and calming the worried mothers. Dr. McCelland diagnosed the illness as a mild strain of influenza that had spread quickly among the children.

  Dispensing aspirin and instructing the mothers to put their sick children to bed and give them plenty of fluids, the doctor was unruffled and tolerant. His calm demeanor and sympathetic manner worked like a soothing balm on both crying children and anxious parents.

  When finally, late that afternoon, every single child had been seen, treated and sent home to bed, one young Mexican boy remained.

  Anna and the doctor spotted the child at the same time. He stood against a wall, waiting patiently, his short arms crossed over his narrow chest. Doctor McCelland recognized twelve-year-old Miguel Hernandez. He crossed to the boy and placed gentle hands atop Miguel’s slim shoulders.

  “Miguel,” the doctor said, “you were so quiet, we missed you. Are you sick, too?” He moved a hand up to the boy’s smooth forehead, ruffling his dark hair.

  “No, I am well,” said Miguel, brushing the doctor’s hand aside. “It is my brothers and sisters,” he explained. “All have the coughing fever. Very sick. My madre says they are too sick to come here. She ask can you come to them?”

  “Well, of course I can,” said Dr. McCelland. “Right away.”

  “Gracias,” Miguel said, bobbing his head as he started to turn away.

  “Wait.” The doctor caught his arm, drew him back. “Did you walk here?”

  “Sí”

  Dr. McCelland smiled, patted the child’s head, turned to Anna and said, “His home is four miles from here.” Then to Miguel, he added, “You can ride with me.”

  “Gracias.”

  The sun was westering when Anna, Dr. McCelland and Miguel reached the remote little house where the Hernandez family lived. The hot, trying day had left Anna extremely exhausted. Her back ached and her head throbbed from the punishing sun.

  She glanced at her companion and was amazed to see that Dr. McCelland was still smiling to himself. Behind him, Miguel Hernandez dozed, his dark head resting on the doctor’s back.

  Thirty

  Anna’s fatigue lifted as soon as they entered the small, three-room home where a half-dozen children lay sick and miserable. Their distressed mother, a tiny, slender woman who had been anxiously tending her feverish brood, thanked them both for coming. Tears of relief filled her large, dark eyes and she immediately ushered them into a small, hot bedroom where three young girls lay shivering on a single bed.

  To her son Miguel she said, “Where are your manners, Miguel? Go get some water for the doctor and the señorita.” To them, she said, “You must be thirsty, no?”

  Dr. McCelland examined the three sisters, then covered them up again, carefully tucking the thin blanket around their shoulders.

  To their hovering mother, Consuela Hernandez, he said, “Your children have influenza, as do many of the children on the Texas Star. They will be fine, so stop worrying. I have given each girl an aspirin.” He held up a half-full bottle of the white tablets and added, “I’ll give the boys their aspirins and then I’ll leave the bottle here. You are to give them all another aspirin in four hours, and every four hours thereafter. That should bring down their fever and give them some relief from the muscle aches.”

  “Gracias, gracias,” she said, nodding and following them out of the room.

  In the only other bedroom, three sick boys lay on pallets. While the doctor examined them, Anna doled out the aspirin, kneeling beside each child, helping to lift his head so he could take a drink to make the pills go down. Her task finished, she turned away, handed Consuela the aspirin bottle. Clutching it to her breasts, the grateful mother left the room praising God and them in rapid Spanish.

  After Consuela had gone, Anna heard someone singing nearby. It was a male voice, singing softly in Spanish. Curious, she moved across the room to a pair of windows that opened onto a small back porch. She pushed back the curtains and looked out.

  And she began to smile. An old rocking chair, its back to her, sat at the far edge of the wooden porch. In the rocker a man with midnight hair was holding a tiny little boy in his arms, gently rocking the child, singing to him softly in Spanish.

  Anna was deeply touched.

  When the physician concluded his examinations, she whispered to him, “Come look, Doctor.” He crossed to her and glanced outside. “Isn’t that sweet?” she said. “A loving father rocking his sick son and singing to him.”

  Dr. McCelland said matter-of-factly, “The Hernandez children have no father, Anna.” Her head snapped around and she stared up at him. He explained, “Raul Hernandez was killed in a riding accident on an autumn roundup a few years ago. It was shortly after Arto—the four-year-old you see being rocked—was born.”

  “Then who is…?” She stopped speaking. Her breath grew short. Her pulse quickened.

  The doctor smiled. “Go out and see.”

  Without another word, Anna exited the bedroom, crossed the spartan sitting room and stepped quietly out onto the back porch. She did not make her presence known. In silence she stood directly behind the man and boy in the slowly moving rocker. Watching. Listening.

  Her heart began to pound. She trembled in the late afternoon heat. The low baritone voice, the noble head, the broad shoulders, all were disturbingly familiar.

  Brit Caruth, with the tiny boy cradled in his muscular arms, sat rocking to and fro, singing to the child, comforting him, caring for him as if he were his own son.

  Anna bit her lip. She was suddenly overcome with emotion. She had the strong desire to cry and she didn’t know why. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back. But an aching tightness continued to squeeze her chest painfully.

  There at that modest little house far out on the barren Texas Star, Anna saw a side to Brit Caruth that had never been in evidence before. He had a tender heart. He would make an excellent father. Her own heart hurt as she envisioned him holding his son.

  Her son.

  Their son.

  Clamping her jaws tight and making her mouth hard in an attempt to conceal her feelings, Anna quietly turned away.

  Back inside, Consuela Hernandez asked, “You saw the patrón rocking my baby?”

  “Yes, yes I did.”

  Consuela smiled and exclaimed, “The patrón, he is nice man, good man. So kind to me and the children. He visits us, brings the children food and presents. When he heard they were sick, he came right away. Pronto.” She looked past Anna, and her smile widened. “Ah, there he is now.”

  Brit walked inside, the tiny boy in his arms now sleeping peacefully. Nodding to Anna, he carefully handed the child to Consuela, who carried him into the bedroom.

  For a long awkward moment Anna and Brit were silent. Then he said, “You look tired.”

  “A little,” she admitted.

  “It’s getting late. Too late for you and Dr. McCelland to ride back tonight.”

  Anna was quick to protest. “No, not really. We can—”

  “You heard me,” said Brit. “You will spend the night at Jim and Tessie Martin’s place. Jim’s the Texas Star division boss. They have a big house with a lot of empty space. They’ll be expecting you.”

  With that he stepped around her, bid a quick farewell to Consuela Hernandez and left.

  Not a half hour later, as the burning sun completely disappeared behind the western mountain range, leaving only a bright orange glow in the September sky, Anna and Dr. McCelland rode up to the rambling ranch house where Jim and Tessie Martin lived.

  Anna had barely dismounted before the front door flew open and a big, barrel-chested man with sandy hair and a wide, toothy smile, followed by a pleasant-looking dark-haired woman, stepped out onto the front patio.

  The friendly Martins w
armly greeted their arriving guests. Introductions were made and hands were firmly shaken.

  “Now you two come on inside,” said Tessie Martin. “I’ve got a big ole supper cooked for you. You hungry? You better be.”

  “Welcome to the Texas Star,” boomed big Jim Martin, slapping Dr. McCelland on the back. “We’re always glad to have company. Gets mighty lonesome around here since all our kids grew up and left.”

  Inside, Tessie Martin directed the pair to their respective guest rooms and said, “Now, y’all get washed up and come on into the dining room.” She chuckled then, and added, “I don’t know how much longer I can keep Brit out of the ham and potato salad.”

  “Brit’s here?” Anna blurted out.

  “Sitting at the table, hungry as a bear,” said Tessie with a laugh.

  Anna smiled weakly. “We’ll be right there.”

  Anna attempted to keep her eyes off Brit during dinner. It wasn’t easy. He sat directly across from her and it seemed that he had never been more ruggedly handsome, more genuinely charming. He was, if anything, more appealing than ever now that she’d seen him gently rocking little Arto Hernandez.

  It was evident that both Martins were immensely fond of Brit and that their relationship was more that of good friends than of employer and employees.

  Brit, Anna realized, never treated his division bosses or any of the cowboys and vaqueros as anything other than equals. Which was a definite talent and largely responsible for his running the big cattle empire so successfully.

  Big Jim Martin poured another splash of madeira into Anna’s stemmed wineglass and said, “Drink up, Anna. It’ll make you sleep like a baby. Right, Tess?”

  His wife made a face, as if disgusted with him. But she was smiling when she said, “If that were the case, you’d never stay awake past nine.”

  The meal progressed pleasantly enough, and afterward Anna helped Tessie with the dishes. When the final dish had been dried and put away, Anna said to the small woman, “Think I’ll step outside for a minute. You don’t mind, do you?”