She frowned. “So is every other woman.”
Win shook his head. “Not true, honey. But you’ve got nice hips.” And at that, his hand strayed from the high rounding of her belly to the fullness of her hipline, and his fingers squeezed gently. “Very nice hips.”
She shot him a haughty look. “Enough of your messin’ around, Winston Gray. You’re supposed to be a dignified doctor, and here you are makin’ eyes at your patient.” She swung her legs to the other side of the bed, and slid her feet to the floor. “We’ve fiddled around long enough with this examination thing. I’m going to the kitchen, and you get to sit and watch while I fix supper.”
“You’re kinda feeling your oats, aren’t you?” he asked, grinning as she slid into her house shoes. She rounded the bed and he encircled her shoulders with his long arm. “Let me give you a hand. I don’t mind helping, and we’ll be done sooner. How about fried potatoes and applesauce and the leftover meat loaf from dinner?”
She nodded. “Anything sounds good to me. I’m hungry all the time since I’m feeling better.” They walked through the kitchen doorway, Win standing aside for Ellie to go before him.
“You’re not totally back to your old self yet,” he cautioned her. “I don’t want you to overdo. In fact, I think Ruth is coming by tomorrow to take a look at you.”
Ellie watched as Win reached for an iron skillet and placed it on the stove. “You don’t mind that she comes?” she asked casually. She’d wondered at Win’s ability to allow Ruth’s medicine to supplement his own.
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told her the first time she was here, honey. I’d do anything it took to get you back on your feet. Up to, and including the magic Ruth makes.”
“You think it’s magic?” she asked cautiously. “She didn’t weave any spells as far as I could tell.”
Win looked over his shoulder at her. “Not that kind of magic. Just the innate knowledge she has that has come down through the centuries from her people. The Native Americans know things the medical profession still has to learn.”
“I’ll slice those potatoes,” Ellie offered as Win brought a bowl of leftover boiled potatoes from the pantry, and he veered from his path to place it on the table.
“Good. You can probably do it quicker than I,” he said agreeably. “I’ll warm the meat loaf.” He poured a bit of bacon grease into the skillet from the cup atop the stove and Ellie heard it begin to sizzle. Settling in a chair, she made short work of the leftover potatoes.
“I’ll just be another minute,” she said. “That pan sounds like it’s ready.” Win watched the food as she set the table, and in less than ten minutes, they were eating. Ellie leaned back in her chair to watch as Win dove into his food. “I thought I’d never get to sit at this table again,” she told him. “I was so sick of eating off a tray, and dripping soup down my chin. I’m not good at being a patient, I’m afraid.”
She ladled applesauce on top of her fried potatoes and Win cast her a look of horror.
“What are you doing to those perfectly good spuds?”
She looked up, then laughed at his expression. “I’ve always eaten my fried potatoes this way. My mother used to make applesauce and can it every year, and we always had it, at every meal it seems like.” Memories flooded her mind as she spoke.
“My father wasn’t so gruff and angry all the time when I was real small. I remember he used to put me on his lap and tell me stories sometimes.”
“He must have missed your mother dreadfully,” Win said. “Something made him hard to live with, and I’m thinking it came about after losing his wife that way.”
Ellie took another bite of meat loaf. “I guess I never thought of him in that light,” she admitted. “I was so full of my own pain, missing her and crying myself to sleep at night. I didn’t think about what he must have felt. Mama wasn’t ever real happy, Win. My pa wasn’t always nice to her, I remember that. But,” she said slowly, “maybe he has a hard time being…kind, the way you are.”
Win got up, then filled a glass with milk and brought it back to the table, depositing it in front of Ellie. “He’s having a hard time being patient, right now,” he said gruffly. “Drink your milk, Ellie. It’s good for the baby.”
Ellie’s fork hit the table as her fingers lost their grip, ignoring the milk he’d placed before her. “What do you mean? Where is he, Win?”
“In jail, waiting for the judge to show up for a hearing.”
“In jail?” She considered that thought for a moment. “Who’s taking care of the ranch?”
“His foreman, I suppose. The man that took you to the line shack was here yesterday on his way to visit the jail. He wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“Al Shrader,” Ellie said. “He’s a kind man, Win. He was only following orders, and he wouldn’t have done anything to harm me.”
Win nodded, and nudged the glass of milk closer to her plate. “I know. I figured that out right away. He helped us track you down.”
She watched as his eyes grew somber, and wondered at his thoughts. “It must have been hard for you, not knowing where I was.”
“I didn’t know what to think at first,” he said. “Kate said you were talking about leaving me for a while, till things got settled with Marie and Tommy.” He paused and met her gaze, as if to judge her reaction. “All I could think of was that you’d gone without leaving me a note or letting me know where you were. And then when I realized that you’d not gone on your own hook, I felt guilty that I’d doubted you.”
“I was probably talking through my hat,” she said, remembering the day she’d spent with Kate, and the half-formed plans she’d confided to her friend. “It did seem like I was more of a burden to you than a help. But there wasn’t anyplace to go, Win. And I’d never have gone back to the ranch, not willingly.”
“Well, George has had a bit of time to think about things, honey. James says he’s cooled off considerably. I think he just went off half-cocked when Marie started her spiel about Tommy marrying you and taking you back to Philadelphia with him. Maybe he really thought it was the best thing for you. Who knows?”
“Will we go to the hearing?” she asked, obeying his unspoken order as he pointed again to her glass. She picked it up and drank half, smiling as he nodded his approval.
“I doubt anything’s going to happen to your pa, Ellie. The law doesn’t provide for the rights of women the way it should. I have a notion the judge will dismiss the charges. James just wanted him to stew for a while.”
“I want to go to the hearing,” she said firmly. “I want to make sure they don’t send him away somewhere.”
“Not much chance of that,” Win assured her.
“Well, anyway, I want to be sure.”
“You’re more softhearted than I am, sweetheart. I’d be willing to see him sweat it out in a jail cell for a while.” Win leaned across the table, and his eyes were narrowed and dark with anger. “He could have killed you, Ellie. If you’d died out there on the open range, it would have been his fault.”
“But I didn’t,” she said quietly. “I’m here, and I’m getting better and he’s still my father. I may not like him very much, but if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be here in the first place. And then where would you be?”
Her voice trembled, and she set her jaw. “I know I may not be the ideal choice for a wife, but I’ve come in handy once in a while. At least you have a wife, a cook and someone to wash and iron your shirts.”
“Hell!” The single curse word stunned Ellie. Win was not given to coarse language and she watched, wide-eyed, as he rose from his chair and rounded the table. She was lifted from her chair with one swift movement, her hands flying up to press against his chest as his arms pinned her awkward form against his long, lean body.
“Don’t talk like that, Ellie. Like I married you to be a kitchen maid.” His hands were strong, his muscles powerful, more so than was apparent at first glance. He wore well-fitting trousers, usually a vest
and coat, but beneath the attire of a gentleman was the strength of a man used to fending for himself.
She seldom thought of him in that manner. He was simply Win, the man who’d married her when it would have been simpler to keep her around as a cook and housekeeper. Win, the champion she’d never had in all of her growing-up years. And right this minute, that champion was upset over something. Maybe upset wasn’t the right word, she decided as Win lifted her in his arms and crossed the kitchen to the hallway, and then on to their bedroom.
“What are you doing?” She breathed the words from lungs that seemed to have lost their ability to inhale air. Her throat closed in a spasm of coughing and she buried her face against his chest.
He sat on the bed, holding her in his lap, and his big hand rubbed her back, between her shoulder blades. “Inhale as deep as you can, sweetheart,” he told her, his voice harsh. She obeyed and coughed again, gagging as the hoarse coughing threatened to bring up the meal she had just consumed.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispered, regret lacing his words. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you up that way.” One hand brushed the hair from her face, the other held her firmly upright, and she caught her breath.
“Why…?” The single word was halted by his fingers touching her lips.
“I heard you list all those foolish reasons for me to appreciate you, and not a one of them mentioned the fact that I love you. I don’t care if you never cook another meal or iron another shirt, Mrs. Gray. You’re my wife because I need you in my life. I can’t remember what it was like before you arrived here, but I know it was damn lonely.”
She leaned on his arm and peered up at him, noting the frown that creased his forehead. A ruddy flush rode his cheekbones, and the feverish gleam in those green eyes told her he was about halfway to stripping her from her clothing and easing his aching need with the warmth of her body.
His voice was harsh, filled with pent-up emotion. “I’ve been lonely in another way, Ellie. I’m afraid you’ve spoiled me. I’ve missed the comfort of having you in my bed for the past little while.”
“I’ve been in your bed,” she said, her mouth pursing as she teased him. “It wasn’t my fault you were such a gentleman.”
“I wouldn’t take advantage of you, with you being sick, honey. You know better than that. I’m going off half-cocked as it is, and I’m supposed to be taking good care of you. You’re married to a doctor, and I’m carting you around and upsetting you, and now I’m horny as hell. I’d give any other husband a good tongue-lashing if he treated his wife this way.”
“You haven’t taken advantage of me, Win. I was the one who coaxed you to—”
His fingers halted her words. “That was my pleasure,” he said, his mouth twitching, as though he recalled in detail the moments they’d shared only yesterday.
“I’m here if you want me,” she said simply. “I won’t even have to wriggle. I’ll just be here for you.”
His eyes twinkled and he hugged her close. “You can’t help wriggling, sweetheart. I’ll consider your offer, but not right now. You’re going to rest, and I’m going to clean up the kitchen.” He moved her from his lap, and tucked the quilt around her. His lips were warm against her forehead, and then he was gone, only his cheerful whistle from the other room making her aware that he was close at hand.
She’d put the kitchen in order after the noon meal the next day when a familiar form appeared at the back door, and Ruth turned the knob. “I brought you some tea, Ellie. It’s good for you and the baby when the time comes for the birthing. It’ll ease your pain.” Ruth stomped her feet on the rug inside the back door, and shook the snowflakes from the shawl she’d worn draped over her head.
“It’s beautiful outside. The sun is shining and the snow from yesterday is beautiful. There’s just a little bit falling now, and it glitters in the air. Come look.” She waved at the backyard and Ellie stood beside her, looking out through the double-sashed door.
“I love the first snow of the year,” Ellie said. “It’s been late coming, and what fell just blew across the fields and settled in drifts along the fence lines. Win took his buggy out this morning on house calls, but I’ll bet he’ll have to have Lionel Briggs over at the livery stable uncover his new sleigh before long.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Ruth agreed. “I rode in on the wagon, and Caleb had a fit. He thinks there’ll be more snow by nightfall, and he doesn’t want me out in it by myself.” She shrugged. “I told him I’d be back long before then, but he’s a fussbudget sometimes. I thought I’d wait and take Zeke home from school with me.”
“That gives you more than enough time to have a cup of coffee or some tea with me,” Ellie said, pleased by the visit. “Heavens, we have half a day to squander, don’t we?”
Ruth sat tall in her chair, and Ellie admired the dark beauty of her eyes and hair. “I’m so glad you came back,” she said. Her gaze sought the small packet of tea Ruth placed on the kitchen table, and her mind sped ahead to the use she would make of it. “Will you need to be here when the time comes?”
“No,” Ruth shook her head. “Winston can brew it for you and keep it hot on the back of the stove as soon as he’s sure you’re in labor. If Kate or Ethel are here with you, they’ll help you drink it as you need it.”
“I wouldn’t mind if you were here,” Ellie said, unaware of the wistful note in her voice, fearful of overstepping Ruth’s generosity.
“If you want me, I will come,” Ruth told her. “But be aware that there are those townsfolk who don’t appreciate what I do. You wouldn’t want the doctor to be thought less of by having me with you.”
Ellie felt anger rise within her, and she rose from her chair, walking around the table to where Ruth watched her with patient eyes. “Win admires you, I thought you knew that. And if you’ll be here when my baby comes, I’d be grateful for your help.”
“Have him send for me.” It was a vow, not given rashly, but with a certain amount of pride, and Ellie was content.
She reached for the small package, seeking a place for it to remain until the time came for its use. Her mother’s sugar bowl sat atop the kitchen dresser, and Ellie’s heart filled with love for the woman she’d barely known as she touched the flowered container. Her fingers trembled as they lifted the lid and placed the tea within.
“It was your mother’s?” Ruth asked.
“Yes.” Ellie turned back to her. “It’s all I have that belonged to her.”
Ruth shook her head. “That’s not true, child. You have her strength and wisdom within you. And I sense honesty and goodness when I come into your presence. Half of your spirit is a gift from your mother. Don’t ever feel that she left you nothing but a bit of china to contain her memory.”
“That’s part of the problem,” Ellie told her. “I don’t have any memories I can put my finger on, only bits and pieces of her. Sometimes I catch a scent and it reminds me of something in my childhood, and once in a while I recall something she did.”
“When that happens, you must stop and dwell on it in your mind,” Ruth said. “Let your heart explore the memory, and allow your thoughts to focus on those few details you remember. Sometimes the events that are seen and heard can be recollected if we let ourselves be caught up in the flow of energy we possess.”
“I guess I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Ellie admitted. “I just figured that those early years were too far back for me to remember.” She felt her eyes fill with tears, and her whisper was forlorn. “I don’t even have a picture of her, and I can only see dark hair and eyes and the form of a woman who was sick in bed for a long time.”
“Can you put your vision on paper?” Ruth asked. “Have you ever tried to draw the things you see?”
“What makes you ask?” Ellie’s heart churned as she remembered the drawings her father had snatched and thrown into the big cookstove, accusing her of lollygagging around instead of doing her chores.
“You have the soul of one who has many talen
ts, child.”
“And you are an observant woman,” Win said from the kitchen doorway. He crossed the room to offer Ruth his hand. “I’m glad to see you,” he said, holding her fingers within his palm. “My wife needs to hear the very things you’ve been telling her.”
His gaze swerved to Ellie, and his smile was approving. “I was listening in,” he said, without a trace of regret. “I think Ruth has you pegged, sweetheart.” He circled the table and bent to kiss Ellie’s cheek. “Are you feeling all right?”
“She’s doing well,” Ruth said, even as Ellie nodded her reply. “Her color is good and her breathing is normal.”
Ellie smiled. “All that and you haven’t even touched me.”
“I’ve watched you,” Ruth said, “and sensed your well-being.” She looked up at Win. “Your wife is one of the chosen ones, I believe.”
Win grinned. “Well, I certainly think so. She’s the only one I’ve chosen, at any rate.” And then he sobered at Ruth’s reproving look. “I apologize, ma’am. And I do know what you mean. She has qualities above and beyond those I would expect of a young woman. Maybe she’s been refined by the harsh fire of anger and impatience, perfected by the cruel life she lived, isolated from those who might have lent a hand when she needed one.”
“I think you’re both talking way over my head,” Ellie said quickly. “I don’t know what you’re getting at. I’m about as ordinary as oatmeal, and I surely don’t have anything special to recommend me.” She turned to Ruth. “I do know how to draw, though. Like you said, I can put pictures on paper that I see in my head. But my pa didn’t like me wasting my time at it.”
“You can do all the drawing you want to now, Ellie,” Win told her, his voice harsh.
She looked up quickly, but his expression held only affection, though his eyes were moist, as though he was pained by some errant thought. “One of these days, maybe I will,” she said quietly.
Chapter Fourteen
A Convenient Wife Page 21