Healing Hearts (Easton Series #2)

by Murray, Anna

  Jed was finding it difficult to speak past the lump forming in his throat. “You can do this work elsewhere.”

  “True enough, and I expect I will after Nelda Rose has her baby.” She frowned and pushed the edge of her fork through the cakes. “I like the people here. Very much.” She stabbed her food. “But my father wants me to go back home. He has a position for me there.”

  “Good. It will all work out.”

  “No, it won’t. I can’t go back. My sister lives there . . . with him.”

  “Ah.” So she still had feelings for her lost sweetheart. It shouldn’t matter, but somehow it didn’t sit well. Truth to tell, Jed’s breakfast felt like raw dough rising in his stomach.

  “There are always other posts.”

  “I suppose.”

  Jed’s stare lingered at her tempting lips for a moment, and he pushed away from the table. “I’m making rounds, starting at the Mineral Creek Ranch today,” he said in a rough voice he barely recognized as his own. “Of course, you’re welcome to come along to assist.”

  She didn’t disappoint. “Oh, I’d like that very much.”

  Jed rose, his shoulders relaxed. “I’ll hitch up the buggy.”

  * * *

  The morning sun caressed, and a light breeze blew under the carriage top as they rode to the Easton ranch. Jed moved the reins from his right hand to his left, and he glanced sideways at Hannah. The tip of her nose rode in front of her bonnet. He wished he could see her eyes.

  Jed settled back against the bench seat, resisting the urge to prod conversation. He’d avoided her gaze as they’d climbed into the worn rig, but now he longed to hear her sweet voice. It wouldn’t be right to seek solace from her direction, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the peace a man might find in her arms.

  Aw, hell.

  “Stop here, please.”

  Her sudden request startled from his reverie.

  Jed halted the horses, and before he could step around to give her a hand down, she was out of the buggy and running into a sea of grass.

  “Look out for snakes!”

  She didn’t hear him. Stopping in a small clearing, she scoured the ground with her eyes. Jed strode across the hardpan and stood at her side. Refusing to acknowledge his presence, she turned away from him and glared at an old barn foundation just a few feet away.

  “You seem angry,” Jed tried, “you don’t have to talk to me, but it might help,” he added. “You know this place?”

  “Yes.” Her shoulders were shaking. She sniffed and pulled a hand across her eyes.

  “Ah.”

  Jed wracked his brain. They were on the edge of the Easton spread, but he knew little of the property’s history. Chandler had mentioned a fire when they’d driven by once, but that was long before he’d come to town. He made a mental note to ask one of the Easton brothers about it.

  Hannah turned around, but not before he took his fill of her gray eyes. Within those depths he read anger and grief.

  “I’m sorry for your pain,” he bit off hoarsely.

  “It’s just a ghost,” she whispered. “It looks like a place I knew once.”

  Jed pushed back his duster as he set his hands on his hips. “Memories are powerful drugs.”

  She lowered her eyes and impulsively rushed back toward the carriage.

  “Oh!”

  He saw her dip into a rut and stumble.

  Jed hurried to catch her as she fell, and, despite her protests, he carried her to the safety of the carriage. She was light in his arms, and she smelled unexpectedly sweet, like a bouquet of wildflowers. “What happened?”

  “My foot hit something and tripped me up.” She smiled through her pain.

  Gingerly he set her on the seat and leaned over her.

  “I’ll take a look at it,” he stated as he tore off his duster and hat.

  She froze like a frightened deer. “I think it’s ok. I didn’t hurt myself, just threw a shoe is all.”

  “It’s not ok, and in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a doctor.”

  Before she could protest any further Jed leaned down and removed her boot. He rolled down the sock and examined her slender foot and toes.

  “You didn’t break any,” he observed, running his hand along smooth, white skin. “Nothing’s bleeding. Let’s check your ankle and leg.” His mouth was pulled taut.

  She jerked away and pulled at her skirt, working against his movements. “No, no I’m fine. It’s fine. It was only the foot.” Color crept up her high cheekbones.

  “You sure? I’m a doctor. You don’t have to hide anything from me. I’ve seen female parts before,” he chided. Her chestnut tresses had loosened from their pins, and now they fell across her face. He felt a strong urge to touch the soft hair, to brush it back. She was a typical doctor, he thought, used to helping others but not accepting it.

  “Let’s move on. I’m not going to die today. I promise.” She forced a smile.

  “You know I’d look bad if you did that.”

  She drew her brows together. “Please, put my boot on.”

  He slipped a finger under her chin and tilted her head back until her gaze met his. “You could teach stubborn to Roy Easton’s mules, Doctor Sutton. They’ve got nothing on you.”

  The grim lines around his mouth tightened as he gently slid her foot back into the leather and hooked the buttons. He brushed a hand across her cheek before settling himself beside her on the seat. He wasn’t sure why he’d touched her, but the thought of her suffering from a childhood trauma caused a hard, worrisome knot to settle deep in his chest. He had questions he wanted to ask, and yet he couldn’t give himself the luxury of knowing her further. Discovering her inner self was a pleasure reserved for another man. Getting close to a woman, any woman, was wrong for him.

  Chapter 8

  Men with flesh wounds, many looking suspiciously self-inflicted, lined up for treatment at the makeshift surgery next to the Mineral Creek bunkhouse.

  “Is it always this busy?” Hannah asked Jed. As she finished bandaging one cowboy another stepped forward.

  “No,” he threw back, “but then again I don’t often bring a comely assistant.”

  “Oh, Doctor, you do go on,” Hannah played along, joking for the benefit of the men in line. They rewarded her feminine voice and performance with hearty laughter.

  “You’re no trouble,” Jed loudly proclaimed. He grinned and winked, “Cal Easton will pay for the extra bandages.” He waved the next man on. “What ails you, Rusty?”

  The man turned his hat in his hands as he glanced at Hannah. “Why don’t you take Buster afore me? He’s saddle sore, and I can wait for the lady doc to check out my arm.”

  “Your arm can cool it’s swelling right here,” Jed quipped, and he pushed Rusty’s shoulders down, forcing him to sit on a hard stump. “Besides, you don’t have an old steer’s chance with the lady. Three of your cow punching pals have already asked her to the Friday social.”

  Crestfallen, but not ready to give up, Rusty ambled on. “Bart’s bragging on how she rubbed a poultice on his bee sting. He says she’s got the right touch with her hands on his neck.”

  Jed’s eyes narrowed. He flashed a glare at his assistant, who was blushing and shrugging. “Well, it looks like next time she’ll strangle him,” he quipped.

  In fact, he’d make sure of it, he thought, as his mind wandered to thinking about Hannah’s hands massaging the painful knot growing in his neck, while watching a sunset on a far off horizon with her. Then he imagined her head leaning against his shoulder as they swayed to and fro in the carriage on the ride home.

  He studied the object of his reverie. His brow was etched with concern, because she was pale and favoring her right leg. Sweat beaded above her upper lip. “Doctor Hannah,” he called out. “Sit down and rest. I’ll finish up with these last two men.”

  Her shoulders slumped in relief, and she slowly nodded. Hannah moved over to the bunkhouse porch and lit on a step.

  Jed w
as packing his bag when the chuck wagon, driven by Old Sam, the cook, came into the yard.

  Old Sam’s face was white as his apron.

  “Doc! There’s been a bad accident!”

  Hannah got to him first, as the wagon halted just ten feet from her position on the slanted porch.

  “I’ve got it,” she shouted out, “what happened?”

  Old Sam stammered. “D-Dan was riding ahead of me when his horse threw him. He was so close I couldn’t swerve, and the c-cart ran over him.”

  Hannah scrambled into the wagon bed and began to undress the injured man, but when she pulled at his belt he came apart at the waist. The expression on her face was horrific as Jed came up beside her.

  “Close your eyes.”

  She didn’t obey. “I’m doing my job,” her voice quavered.

  He wished he could spare her the sight of the man’s severed trunk.

  “Let’s make him comfortable.”

  Jed reached into his bag, and together they gave the man a large dose of morphine. His eyes fluttered open, his gaze vacant. After he lost consciousness Hannah continued to talk to him as if he were still there, assuring him she’d write to his family.

  Dan had withered away, and Hannah stepped back. Jed and Old Sam covered his body with a tarp.

  By then other men had crowded around in a silent mass, and Cal Easton had been summoned. The tragedy left them bereft of words, but those who could speak cursed. The young wrangler cried.

  As there was nothing left to do, Jed helped Hannah to the carriage in a bid to hasten their separation from the scene of the tragedy.

  She pressed a shoulder into his side, her warmth seeping through his shirt.

  “I’m sorry you had to handle that – “

  She shook her head and moved a hand to cover his lips. He felt the gentleness of her touch. “It’s what the job is,” she said quietly, “every body has a story, if a doctor takes the time to listen. The tales might be drama and tragedy, or an adventure or ballad, or even a fairy tale with a moral to be learnt.”

  He sighed. She was right, but that didn’t lessen his need to ease her, as he felt compelled to comfort anyone who suffered physical or mental anguish. He pulled a blanket from behind the seat and brought it up to cover her shoulders, but it could only protect her from the chill of early evening, not the bitter gale of loss of life.

  Hannah placed her hand over his as he searched for the right words to ease the pain and the powerful image of a dying cowboy. Offering comfort had come so easily hundreds of times before, but now his efforts came up empty.

  Awkwardly he took her hand and wove his fingers through hers. She had small fingers, but they were powerful. He’d seen her work at bandaging and splinting, and she was strong enough to hold down a man twice her size.

  Touching her hand gave him comfort, comfort he shouldn’t take from a woman. The skin beneath his fingers was soft and smooth and he reminded himself he had no right to it, and he was only easing her distress.

  After a few minutes of silence Jed removed his hand and took up the reins.

  “You all right, partner?”

  Her chin fell to her chest. “Good enough. Thank you.” She did not look him in the eye, but gazed out at the horizon.

  They rode home in silence, and he wondered if she’d be able to sleep. He’d have trouble nodding off, but he’d ease in with his drugs. She would not, and that made her, he reluctantly admitted to himself, a stronger person.

  And after she left him he’d go back to going home alone. There’d be no one to ride beside him in the carriage, no one sweet to share his home. The solitude of his life had been easily dismissed until she’d arrived; now loneliness struck him with depressing force. Sharing meals, discussing cases, and watching the light flicker in her eyes when she smiled – these were simple pleasures he’d miss immensely.

  In this moment of despair and sadness he had a partner to share it, and that made all the difference.

  Jed slapped the horse to go faster, to outrun the feeling and to get home sooner so he could find consolation in the morphine hidden behind the books on the shelf.

  Chapter 9

  Jed unhitched the mare and brushed her down in the stable behind the house. His hands were shaky; he needed his self-medication. Jed hated this weakness, this dependency, but he’d find comfort soon, and then he’d forget his personal failings while he drifted in the velvet haze.

  Hannah had gone on up to the house to start supper, and now Jed walked briskly to the door. He paused and knocked lightly before he entered, made an excuse to visit the surgery as he passed her in the kitchen, and headed for his stash. He swallowed the opiate, taking care to hide the bottle behind several books before walking back to join Hannah.

  She was tired and dusty. “I found mail on the doorstep, one for me and the rest for you,” she motioned to letters stacked on the table.

  Jed picked up the mail and opened the letter on top. It was from his friend, Doctor Cole.

  Dear Jedediah,

  I write you with pleasure that I am well, and hope you are the same.

  Doctor Sutton should have arrived by this time. You have no doubt enjoyed her quick mind, easy disposition, and pleasant manner in all things, in spite of her coming from a hard place. She had other offers and proposals from colleagues here, so you are fortunate to have contracted her.

  But enough about an angel: Life goes on and I am looking for a hire to teach surgery. If you know of a candidate, please inform.

  Respectfully yours,

  Andrew Cole

  Jed set aside the letter and pinched the bridge of his nose. She’d had opportunities to team with other doctors? What were the “proposals” Cole made mention of? Marriage? Why hadn’t she taken them?

  Instead, she’d chosen the mail-order assignation with a man she’d never laid eyes on. His eyes wandered to the object of his ruminations. Hannah was perched quietly near the window, catching the oblique setting sunlight while reading her own letter.

  “Good news?”

  She leaned her head against the wall. “Mother and Father want to come for a visit when I get settled.”

  “Oh.”

  She gazed out the window. “I’ll be here another month, waiting on Nelda Rose’s birthing, but after that . . .” her voice trailed off.

  “You can stay longer,” he bit off before he thought about it.

  She brightened. “I was thinking the same thing. A six-month posting is common for a new doctor to gain experience.”

  “Yes. It’s reasonable.” He didn’t know why he was making excuses to keep her close to him. Why was he frustrated and delighted at the same time?

  “Thank you, Doctor Rutherford. I appreciate the opportunity.”

  He waved a hand in the air. It must be the morphine clouding his judgment. He bristled at the mere hint it might be tearing down the wall between them.

  Hannah rose and set the table for supper. Then she ladled beans and pork from a pot. She sliced bread, delivered it on a blue plate, and, as was her habit, she waited for him to commence eating before she picked up her fork.

  He wondered about the “hard place” Cole indicated she came from in the letter, and how it created a strong, steadfast, and determined woman.

  “So . . . your family news was good?”

  “Oh, yes, Mother and Father are fine.”

  “You have just the sister? No brothers?”

  She hesitated and her face tightened. “That’s right.”

  He buttered a piece of bread. Hannah had never revealed much about her family, and he’d seen only one small tintype of her parents -- earnest looking people with a haunting sadness in their eyes. She’d mentioned that her father was successful in his business, and it was no doubt one reason he’d been capable of exerting pressure in gaining his gifted daughter entrance to medical college. With no sons, perhaps it was up to Hannah to succeed in making a profession. Something about this nagged at Jed. There was more, something grittier, some
thing disquieting. Hannah was holding back. She avoided relationships with men, but it was just as well, because he’d be the first to step into her snare.

  They ate in comfortable silence, and when finished he rose and helped to clear the dishes. Then he took the large cast iron pot out to the porch and filled it with water. He hauled it back and set it on the stove.

  “What are you doing?” she asked when he went out again and hauled a hip tub into the kitchen.

  “The doctor is ordering a bath,” he grunted. “You can go first, and I’ll follow.”

  “That’s . . . thoughtful. I’d, I’d like a bath. I-I like water.” She smiled brightly.

  “Trail dirt,” he explained, and he returned her smile.

  “Oh, yes! I tasted it every time I licked my dry lips on the ride back.”

  He laughed. “Get used to it. The warm water will also soothe your twisted ankle.”

  “It’s already much improved.” To show him how much she skipped to the sink and collected soap. She pulled a towel from the shelf above.

  Jed had a feeling she was downplaying the pain, but he said nothing. Instead he moved around her as she worked at the sink. He lifted the hot water from the stove and poured it into the tub. Then he disappeared onto the porch, and moments later he returned, hauling cool water to mix in.

  He dipped a hand into the bath. “It’s just right. I’ll wait in the parlor.”

  Jed lit a lantern and strode from the room, taking the rest of his mail and the town newspaper. In the sitting room, Jed lit a second lamp and settled himself on the horsehair sofa. The house was quiet in the twilight, and after a while he heard a splash as Hannah immersed herself in the tub.

  “You all right?”

  “Yes, thank you, it’s very nice,” she called back with childlike glee.

  Jed scanned the headlines but had trouble focusing on the words in the articles, owing to the contented sighs and moans emanating from the kitchen. Instead of reading he imagined Hannah running the soap up and down the white skin of her arms and shoulders, shoulders with loose chestnut hair caressing them.