by Murray, Anna
“I thought I’d survived the worst personal challenges during the war,” he admitted. “I was wrong. This was hell to me. I can’t imagine worse.”
“Well,” she tucked loose tresses into a bun at the back of her head before rising from her seat, “I can fetch our knives and pans from Roy’s, now that you are well. I thought you might use them.”
“Good thinking.”
“You made a try for them when you entered the delirium.”
“Oh.” He reddened.
“It’s ok. Sheriff Easton assisted. How do you feel?”
“Out of reserves. It felt like I was locked within prison walls for an eternity.”
“You’re a free man now. You’ll be weak for a while, but I plan to take you on long walks.”
He reached forward and took her hand. “Hannah, we made a deal. As soon as I gain some weight you’ll be marrying me.”
“Right.” Her voice quavered. “As a convenience.”
“Yes.” Jed stumbled over his response. His platonic heart had begun to struggle. Other appetites were beginning to return. It was a turn he hadn’t expected.
Chapter 20
Wounded Colt heaved a collective sigh of relief upon learning of the pending marriage. Hannah learned it wasn’t about propriety. After all, prickly social rules didn’t matter once you crossed the Mississippi. Jed’s proposal staked their claim to her services, and the town folk expressed their glee in landing her a thousand different ways.
Hannah was overwhelmed by their generosity. Hawkins provided free meals, ladies delivered sweets and embroidered towels, pillowcases, and sheets in decorated baskets, and others invited the couple to dine at their tables. On one such occasion, at the Mineral Creek Ranch, Sarah Easton pulled Hannah aside and offered her two beautiful dresses, one a blue wool, victorian-style frock, with delicate lace collar, to wear on Hannah’s wedding day.
Jed’s recovery continued at a steady pace. His laughter and subtle flirtations were the best payback for Hannah’s efforts. He even made a good play at squiring her around town, pretending at courting by taking her arm, smiling at her affectionately, and whispering in her ear at Watkins when he knew everyone was watching, has he purchased a fancy new wedding shirt.
Hannah enjoyed his new demeanor and kindnesses, even though it was all part of a false drama she supposed he found amusing.
Indeed, standing in the kitchen after breakfast she heard him roaring with laughter as he approached the house. He entered and held up his copy of the Wounded Colt Dispatch.
Hannah read the headline: Mail Order Doctor Turns Mail Order Bride. In smaller print were the words: Doctor Hannah cures Rutherford of his lonely bachelorhood.
“Oh, my,” she laughed along but eyed him anxiously. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“After all I’ve been through, this one is easy,” he quipped. In the dim kitchen she could see his blue eyes shining.
Hannah rushed the paper from his hand and read aloud. “After long months of encouragement from local denizens, Doctor Jedediah Rutherford will make his professional partner, Doctor Hannah, a permanent matrimonial companion at Creek Church this afternoon at 2 pm. The reluctant groom came to Wounded Colt after heroic service as a surgeon in the Army Medical Corps. His lovely bride, Miss Hannah Sutton, newly graduated from medical school, arrived when Rutherford requested an assistant to join his practice from a colleague in Indiana. Readers, imagine his surprise (and ours!) upon receiving a talented beauty! When asked about the courtship, the groom responded, “we developed a mutual respect, and Hannah finally roped me by convincement that we could be more than friends and professional partners.”
At the Dispatch, we can only wonder how dear Doctor Rutherford stonewalled so long in deciding to step off the trail with such a treasure, and we offer our hearty approval. Congratulations and blissful wishes to the happy couple.”
Hannah looked up at her betrothed. “I convinced you?”
A sheepish look crossed Jed’s face. “A man in my position can’t show weakness, and a woman in your position needs to show strength. See how it works for both of us?”
She considered his words. “OK, I’ll admit it was clever, as long as we both know the real truth.”
“Right,” Jed playfully responded.
* * *
Hannah was grateful to be wearing Sarah Easton’s navy wool capelet as she walked through the October chill, her hand on the crook of Jed’s arm. In truth, it would be the perfect convenience wedding, even though her mother would have found the lack of proper etiquette unspeakable. Emma Sutton would have fussed over formal announcements, trousseau, engagement dinners, presents, and entertainments. Hannah’s mother had a way of complicating up the simplest of events.
As this day unfolded, the sun struggled to peak out from gray clouds a shade darker than Hannah’s eyes, which were protected under a broad brimmed hat adorned with royal blue ribbons. As they approached the church she steadied her nerves by reminding herself that life would not change, not one whit. She’d continue to live and work as usual, with one slight adjustment to her title, but it was of no consequence because everyone called her “Doctor Hannah” anyway. Who would be foolish enough to add “Missus” when addressing her? And, she could easily avoid the term “husband”, as she would continue to call Jed “Doctor Rutherford” in the presence of patients. No, nothing would change except their legitimacy in the eyes of society.
They entered the church, and under the power of such thoughts, Hannah’s crystal voice boldly repeated the marriage vows. No coy blushing bride was she, and Jed was equally brazen. When rings were exchanged he gazed into her face and loudly thanked her.
“Hannah Sutton Rutherford, I’m proud to be your husband. You’ve made my life bright and happy again.” He slipped the ring onto her lithe finger and turned to the crowd of fifty people lined up in pews behind them. “Hannah has helped me to face my greatest foe. You could say she’s given me back my life,” he stated unashamedly.
Hannah was proud and speechless. It was the first time he’d publicly thanked her, and it was the closest he’d come to admitting his habit to others. It mattered. A lot. Hannah’s eyes watered.
The congregation, for their part, clapped and stomped. There were a few “here, here’s” shouted, and Hannah thought she heard Roy Easton shout “kiss the bride!”
Jed took the bait, slung his arm around her back, and dipped her low. Off balance, there was no way to avoid his advance, and Hannah took a deep breath and muttered “sweet Lord” ahead of the dramatic performance. His lips covered hers softly for a moment before he took her with wildest abandon. The guests jumped from their seats to get a better view of the kiss, and low whoops from the men alternated with soprano gasps and “oh mys” from the ladies.
And then, thank heavens, little Rose Hannah Hawkins, only four months old, interrupted with a wail and it was over, leaving Hannah panting for air and holding her hand to her chest.
“Did we give them a show?” she gasped.
“I believe we did, Mrs. Rutherford.”
Jed steadied her, took her arm, and they proceeded to the back of the church, where they greeted the guests. There were a passel of good wishes, backslaps and kisses for the bride, and the occasional odd comment to be tolerated. Mrs. Amble gave voice to the traditionalists with her “now you no longer live in sin and disgrace” lecture. God Bless Cal Easton, who was behind her in the receiving line. He quickly cut in on the conversation.
John Hawkins brought up the rear.
“Nelda and little Rose had to leave. Nelda’s opening up the dining room for you.”
“What?” Hannah was startled.
“For your party.” He motioned toward the hotel down the street.
“Oh you shouldn’t have –“
“Too late for that. We already did. C’mon.” Hawkins’ face showed the pride of his victory.
The group moved down to the hotel, where Nelda had covered the tables and the lobby desk in
cream-colored linens. There were sugary cakes and lemon cookies and coffee and tea, and a toast to the newlyweds.
It was all very lovely, and nearly perfect -- except for the spectacle was all pretend, a quackery, a fake, thought Hannah.
At the hotel party Jed boasted repeatedly on Hannah, while she deflected his odd praise.
“Enough!” she hissed into his ear. “This isn’t wound dressing. Quit layering it on so thickly.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. You embarrass me so. You act as though you are smitten.”
Jed didn’t reply, but squinted over her head and waved at his friend, Cal Easton.
A band was setting up in the corner, and men were recruited to push back the tables and chairs. The rug was rolled up to create a dance floor, and Hawkins stepped to the middle of the room. “Doctor Hannah and her husband will commence the first dance.”
Jed stepped forward and took Hannah’s hand. “One more act in the play,” he smiled tightly.
He turned her into the waltz, and Hannah decided to allow herself this small pleasure.
“You are practiced,” she noted.
“As are you, Mrs. Rutherford.”
Other men cut in to get a chance with the bride, and Hannah did not see Jed for nearly an hour. When she sat to rest she turned her thoughts to telegraphing the news of her wedding to her mother and father, but a twinge of guilt at announcing a sham marriage caused her to abandon the idea. She decided to mention it in passing in her next letter.
Jed sat next to her. “A penny for your thoughts,” he broke the silence.
“I was thinking about my parents.”
“Ah. Are you tired? Would you like to retire to our love nest?”
“Ha! Yes, I would like to go home.” She rose, and they wound their way through the guests to find John Hawkins. After thanking him, he clapped his hands and announced their departure to the crowd. They were cheered once more, and Jed bowed while Hannah pushed one foot behind the other and bent her knees into a curtsy, and they made their exit into the night.
When they arrived at the house Hannah strode briskly to the stairs.
“We’ll adhere to our original agreement?” Jed’s voice drifted from behind her.
She wasn’t sure if it was a request or a reminder of the status of their relationship. “Yes,” she affirmed as her heart galloped. Her voice lodged in her throat. God Almighty, she wished she were different. “You’ll have my professional services in the surgery.” She pursed her lips. “As ever, I promise to do my best.” Her wedding day was over, and now it was time to do what she’d always done: She’d put her head down and pull the wagon.
Chapter 21
She had good reason to be cautious, but her rejection was, nonetheless, a gutshot.
Hannah’s soft footsteps on the stairs were trampling his heart, but she was right. Jed knew he could suffer a relapse, and even without a backward stumble the nightmares would visit again. He didn’t want to dwell on the possibilities. He’d injured her once during an episode, and the thought of it ripped open a fresh wound.
He wished he didn’t love her, but she was, after all, his wife. And blast it, at this moment he was struggling with increased sexual urges. Morphine impotence had given way to full stallion lust, and he fought back at the wall of water rushing over the dam. He couldn’t begin to act on his feelings for Hannah – not until he was sure he wouldn’t fall back into the habit.
He owed it to her to give himself six months, at the least, but he wasn’t sure how he’d manage it with her living under his roof. He stared out the window at the town, light from lanterns flickering against the darkness. His marriage was not to be consummated. He’d lock up his needs and focus on work.
It was barely dawn the day after his wedding, and Jed’s frustrated ruminations were interrupted by a knock at the kitchen door. Who the hell could it be?
He swung his legs over the side of his cot and stood. “Hold your horses,” he called out.
The door opened before he could reach it, and Roy Easton stumbled in, carrying a child. “I found him on the trail outside of town,” the sheriff explained.
The boy was moaning, and Jed motioned Roy forward. “Come, come, let’s get him into the surgery.”
The big sheriff trailed him, peering curiously at the disheveled state of Jed, and the crumpled blankets on his cot. He settled the boy gently onto the examining table. “Sorry to bother you on your wedding night. Where’s Doc Hannah?”
“Upstairs, like always,” Jed blurted, before he thought to check himself. Damn Easton. He would have to show up and figure out they hadn’t slept together!
Roy Easton wasn’t giving any show of surprise. He turned his face away from the window and into the shadows, his gaze fixed on the young patient. “As I said, I found him on the path.”
Jed started a careful examination. “He has a bad gash on his head, broken ribs,” he muttered.
The boy groaned and gasped.
Jed heard Hannah’s bare feet falling on the steps, and felt her come up behin him as she scampered over to the table. Jed looked up and swallowed; her thick hair fell to her waist. She wore a thin wrapper over her nightgown.
“Mr. Easton, I thought I heard you . . . oh my,” she caught herself. “What have we here?”
“Easton found this young ‘un. He’s hurt. What’s your name, son?”
The boy was nearly unconscious. “J-J-Jake,” he whispered.
“Jake, we’re doctors. We’re going to take care of you,” Hannah touched his small, rough hand.
“Oh.” The boy’s voice faded. Hannah fetched a cloth and water and washed his head wound. “He was alone?”
Easton hiked a hand on his hip. “Yes. I’m guessing he was thrown off the wagon train that went through late last night.”
“Abandoned? Who would do such a terrible thing?” Hannah was incredulous.
“I’ve seen worse, ma’am,” Roy glanced sideways at her.
“I’ll stitch the head wound. Good thing he’s out. He won’t feel this.” Jed reached for supplies on the shelf behind him.
“Will he make it?” Roy wondered aloud.
“We’ll fight the devil,” Jed said.
The early light of day filtered over the table and danced across the paintings hanging over the boy. Jed looked up from his charge. “We’ll give him medicine for the pain, and he’ll sleep for a couple days. His body needs quiet and rest to heal.”
“Well, call me if he talks. I’ll kill the bastard who did this, if he can tell who it was,” Roy added.
“Guess I’d do the same if I were in your boots, but it looks like a fall, an accident,” Jed said.
“Mr. Easton, you saved this boy’s life,” Hannah whispered. “Perhaps it’s enough.”
“A man who’d do this is a man who will hurt and kill others, ma’am,” Roy explained.
“It looks like an accident,” Jed repeated. “We’ll ask the boy when he wakes up.”
The sheriff wasn’t listening to him, and Hannah, intent on assisting with bandages and stitching, brushed her fingers through the boy’s long brown hair. “Mr. Easton, don’t put yourself into harm’s path. We need you.”
Easton nodded at Jed. “Some wife you got yourself. Sorry to bring this to you on your honeymoon.” He moved to the door. “Gotta go now.”
And then he was gone.
Jed wanted the brown-eyed boy to rest, but they needed to examine him more thoroughly, and Hannah suggested they give him a “good old Montana sunrise scrubbing”. To this end she fetched more warm water in a bucket, and together they gently stripped his clothing from his body.
“No other bruises or signs of abuse. This boy likely fell from the wagon,” Jed observed.
“You think his family will come for him when he turns up missing?”
“Likely.”
Jed wasn’t sure why he did what he did next. He reached across the child’s body and put his hand over Hannah’s as she tenderly set a warm cloth over
the boy’s skinned knees.
Chapter 22
He said his name was Jake Spooner, and he loved pancakes with molasses.
The young healed quickly, and Jake was no exception. Four days after Roy delivered him he was walking and talking. Hannah spun in circles finding him chores, anything to burn up his youthful energy.
Roy Easton hauled over his young sister-in-law, Emily Anders, to act as interrogation assistant. Jake’s brown eyes lit up when he saw Emmy’s golden curls. He eagerly chatted with the pretty girl.
“You like horehound or licorice?” Emily held candy across the kitchen table where they were seated.
“Both,” he replied as he scooped up the gift.
“Your pa, does he have brown eyes too?”
His lower lip jutted out. “I ain’t got folks.”
“You were with your uncle, then?” Emily’s blue eyes narrowed. “My uncle took us after my ma and pa died.”
His eyes softened. “No, miss. I was a stowaway, and when they found me they tossed me off.”
“Oh.” She frowned.
“I ‘spect I had it comin’,” he bit into the licorice and chewed. “You live around here?”
“Yes, and I plan to marry Roy Easton when I grow up.”
“The sheriff? Ain’t he too old for you?”
She shrugged. “I go to school. If you’re feeling well enough you can come with me tomorrow.”
He bristled. “I ain’t got a slate.”
“I have an extra,” Emily retorted. “I’ll come by on my way.” She smiled then, a smile that made his eyes glisten, a smile to make a lad follow her anywhere.
“Are there . . . boys at the school?”
“Sure, and your age, too. Rusty and Tom are eleven. Gabe is twelve.”
Roy left the youngsters to chat, and he cornered Hannah and Jed in the parlor. “Nobody’s coming back for the kid. You two planning to keep him?”
“For now,” Hannah rushed in, before Jed could state his objection. “He’s polite, and a hard worker.”