Lone Star Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “Oh, that’s so kind of you. I’d have worried myself sick if Mercy went home alone.”

  “Mercy!” Peter burst into the doctor’s office.

  “What are you doing out of school?”

  “Teacher sent David to get more chalk from the mercantile. He told me—”

  “Tales,” Mercy said flatly. “We do not listen to tales, Peter. Now you march right on back to school.”

  The doctor waited until her little brother left, then he chuckled. “And to think I always thought growing up with older brothers was difficult!” As Carmen laughed, he smoothly took hold of Mercy’s elbow. “Now that everything is settled, let’s go see your grandda.”

  “He’s fine. You saw him, yourself, at church just yesterday—and the two Sundays before that, as well.”

  “Aye, that I did. After six weeks of healing, the time’s come to regain the strength in his limb.”

  “Can you do that?” Carmen pressed a hand to her bosom. “It’s nothing short of miraculous how you didn’t have to amputate. No one expected him to ever walk again.”

  “God gets credit for all miracles,” the doctor said. “I take responsibility for the more ordinary—like teaching Mr. Stein some movements so his strength returns.”

  “And that Mercy rests,” Carmen added. “Good-bye, then. Oh! Mercy, Leonard brought over a pound of coffee. He said that’s what you came to town for.”

  Using that as an excuse to break away from the doctor’s hold, Mercy reached out and accepted the bag. “I’ll be sure to thank him when I go get my horse.” She knew the doctor didn’t own a horse, so Mercy figured she’d neatly managed to get rid of him entirely.

  She wasn’t that fortunate. Five minutes later, as they rode out of town, he’d finished telling her about how his brother Chris had bought the dappled mare for a pittance because it had been in such sorry shape. Clearly his medical skills extended toward beasts, too.

  He cleared his throat. “My apologies for speaking so much, but I assumed you didn’t want anyone asking questions, so I dominated the conversation.”

  Surprised by his insight, Mercy still grasped at the opening he’d provided. “Dr. Neely said he’d taken an oath to give patients privacy. Did you take that same vow?”

  “Aye. The Hippocratic Oath.”

  “Good. Then you are not going to tell anyone …” She couldn’t bring herself to even say the words.

  Dr. Gregor said nothing.

  Terrified that a prompt agreement didn’t spring from his lips, Mercy halted. So did he. Ever since that day, she’d hardly looked directly at anyone. Deeply shamed, she couldn’t. But this was too important. “You took the oath. You must uphold it.”

  “ ’Tisn’t a secret that can be long kept.”

  “It can be kept until Grossvater is strong. Then I can go away.” She tore her gaze away from him and stared off in the distance.

  “Lass, your grandda willna be fully recovered for almost four more months. You’ll not be able to hide the truth until autumn.”

  “Of course I can.” I have to.

  “I canna begin to imagine how difficult this is for you, but I’ll be speaking plainly. Your brother will say something about you fainting. Even if you admonish Peter to remain silent, any one of a half dozen of the people who were in the mercantile will mention the episode to your grandda.”

  The reins slithered through her fingers. Everything was slipping through her fingers—her love, her reputation, and now even this.

  The doctor leaned forward and collected a rein. Pressing it back into her hand, he murmured, “For your own sake as well as his, don’t you think it would be best if we told him now?”

  She gave no answer. They reached the farm shortly thereafter, and the doctor’s brother sauntered in from the nearest field. Either or both of the doctor’s brothers came each day. At first, they’d come into the house to ask Grossvater what needed to be done. As he’d improved, Grossvater made it a point to be out on the porch to meet them.

  The doctor dismounted and helped her down. His brother strode over, and the two of them greeted each other as if they’d been separated for a year. The second Duncan turned her way, Mercy dipped her head.

  “Your grandda is in the barn, Miss Stein. I brought over some of my tools, and he’s repairing harnesses and the like.”

  “That was good of you. I’ll go get lunch.”

  Duncan chuckled. “Only for yourself. We found the sandwiches you left and polished them off. Rob, while you’re here, take a look at Freckle’s runt.”

  “He’s in the barn?”

  “Aye.” Duncan headed back out to the field.

  The doctor looked at her. “Would you like to eat first?”

  Rage swept through her. “First? The decision is mine to make.”

  “Yes, ’tis.” He didn’t pause for a second to frame his reply. “But Freckle isna about to let me near her wee little pup unless you’re there.”

  He’d spoken the truth. Freckle didn’t mind anyone playing with the other puppies, but she’d become unaccountably protective of the runt. Heaving a sigh, Mercy walked toward the barn. It’s only Monday. I’ll have a few days as long as I make sure Peter says nothing.

  “Schatze! Did you have a nice trip to town?”

  Mercy evaded the question. “Grossvater, look at you! I didn’t know we had so many leather things.”

  A proud smile lit his face. “These are just the things that needed care. Most were still in working condition, but with a little attention, they’ll last much longer.”

  The doctor set down his satchel. “That saddle is a thing of beauty.”

  “It was my son’s.” Grossvater gently buffed an edge. “Mercy’s mama gave it to him the year they were married. Peter is about the age where he will treasure it.”

  “So you will give it to him for his birthday?” Mercy nodded. “He will be very pleased.”

  “If you’re done riding for the day, I’ll unsaddle your horse,” the doctor offered.

  “Ja, that is kind of you.” Grossvater smiled. “And then I will ask you to help me hide this saddle.”

  Mercy added, “Peter’s birthday is next month—on the fourth of July.”

  “There’s a fine date.” The doctor sauntered out to get her horse.

  Independence Day … But I’ll never be free again. In the doctor’s absence, Mercy slipped away from Grossvater and leaned over Freckle’s box. She scratched between the mutt’s ears. The whole time the doctor unsaddled her horse, she lavished attention on Freckle and admired each pup. Finally, she lifted the runt. “I’ll bring her right back.”

  “Duncan tells me the wee one isna feelin’ so chipper.”

  Grossvater let out a deep sigh. “She crept out of the box today and followed Peter. While he was doing the milking, Evalina stepped on the runt’s tail.”

  “Let’s see.” The doctor stepped closer. Mercy tried to hand him Dot, but he made a dismissive gesture. “I’ll be better able to assess her tail if both hands are free.”

  His breath washed over her wrists, and Mercy longed to pull away. Deft and gentle, he examined the runt. The very last place he touched was its tail, and the pup whimpered.

  “Ooch, now, there’s a shame.” The doctor crooked his forefinger and rubbed the runt between her ears, just as Mercy had done to Freckle. “Puir wee pup. Tail’s broken.”

  “I feared that.” Grossvater sounded grim. “Freckle’s been licking it, but the skin’s broken, and the runt’ll get gangrene. We’ll put it down before Peter gets home.”

  “He’s blaming himself already,” Mercy murmured.

  “Now, that’s premature.” The doctor finally took Dot from her and cuddled the pup to the center of his broad chest.

  Half an hour later, Mercy put Dot back with Freckle. “She doesn’t have the part of her tail with the spot that we named her for.”

  “Stubby.” The doctor’s voice sounded vaguely humored.

  Grossvater chortled. “Stubby! Ja, it is a
good name.”

  Mercy straightened up.

  “Mercy.” Grossvater’s voice suddenly sobered. “You do not laugh? Was ist den loss?”

  What is the matter? Grossvater sometimes lapsed into German when he was emotional. He looked from her stricken expression to the doctor and back. Then he groaned and rubbed his hand down his face.

  Everything in her wanted to scream a denial, to run. But no sound would come out of her mouth, and her feet wouldn’t move.

  The doctor pressed something into her hand. Mercy stared down at the handkerchief for a moment before she realized she was crying. Finally, she rasped, “I will go away.”

  “Nein!” Grossvater got to his feet and limped with the cane as fast as he could toward her.

  “Are you wanting to be alone?” the doctor asked her softly as Grossvater approached.

  Mercy nodded. A moment later, she and Grossvater wrapped their arms about one another. He stroked her back. “I won’t let you go. You are not to blame, and neither is the child.”

  “But, Grossvater—“ She couldn’t put into words all she felt.

  “No sneaking off to hide.” He held her tighter. “I have worried there might be a child. I have prayed. This child—we will love it, for it is yours.”

  The ball in her throat made it hard to speak at all, but she managed a strangled whisper. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “We can.” Grossvater’s voice held great determination. “Ja, with God’s help, we can do this.”

  Mercy clung to him. With God’s help? Why did He not help me so all of this didn’t happen? Even if just the baby didn’t happen? How am I to trust Him to help me now, when He’s ignored my cries for so long?

  “Dr. Gregor?”

  Rob halted and looked across the street. “Aye?”

  Carmen Rodriguez motioned toward him. He crossed the road and joined her on her veranda. “I’ve been wondering …” she half whispered. Color filled her cheeks. “Mr. Stein is doing whatever you showed him to do, and his recovery is remarkable. I was wondering …”

  When her voice trailed off, Rob accepted the glass of sweet tea she extended toward him and sat in a wicker chair. He’d intentionally waited until he knew what she wanted. Ever since Mercy swooned in the mercantile almost a month before, folks tried to get him to speak about her. Some meant well; others were gossipmongers. Either way, he refused to discuss any private matters. Since Miss Rodriguez wished to broach a different topic, he’d listen. “You were wondering?”

  “Could I do the movements? Would they help me?”

  He made no pretense at ignorance. The lass had a noticeable limp. “You were quite young when you broke your limb, weren’t you?”

  She nodded. “Doc Neely wanted to amputate, but Papa wouldn’t consent to it.”

  “When you showed interest upon hearing about the therapy, I made the assumption that you were hopeful something might benefit you, as well.” Rob looked her in the eyes. He’d learned early in his career that patients inevitably coped better with bad news when given the dignity of a direct response. “I took the liberty of examining the medical journal Dr. Neely kept. The problem is that your bones knit together in puir alignment. Motion exercises address muscular problems, not skeletal. I’m sorry I canna make a difference for you.”

  “I suppose,” she said in a tight voice, “I should be grateful for what I have.”

  “I’m sure the Almighty never tires of hearing our gratitude.” He looked out at the garden she tended every afternoon. “What happened? Just yesterday your garden was brimming with blossoms, and most of them are gone now.”

  “Ada Meister’s wedding is tomorrow.” She clenched her hands in her lap. “You know what they say—the woman who marries in June is a bride all her life.”

  Rob hitched a shoulder. “To my way of thinking, ’tisn’t when you marry—’tis whom. Even so, it was kind of you to share your flowers with Miss Meister.”

  “Thank you.”

  They exchanged a few more pleasantries, then Rob excused himself. As he started down the steps, Otto Kunstler passed him. They exchanged nothing more than a polite nod, but Rob overheard him.

  “Hello, Miss Rodriguez. Is your sister home?”

  The rest of the afternoon passed with an assortment of cases that demanded the doctor’s attention. His last patients were from two towns over. Suspecting that they, like Carmen Rodriguez, were hoping for a miracle, Rob took additional time with the Heims. In the end, all he could do was tell them the sad truth.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Heim, but you’ll not be having any children.”

  Mrs. Heim sobbed quietly, and her husband held her close. He looked just as shattered. “Are you sure?”

  “Aye.” Rob explained the details as gently as he could.

  Chester Heim heaved a sigh. “We were told the same by the doctor in Austin. We hoped he was wrong. Lena and I—we talked about it. If there is no hope for us to have a child of our own, we would consider adopting.”

  “If anything comes up, I’ll keep you in mind.”

  Wearily washing his hands, Rob let out a long sigh. Mercy is carrying a babe that was forced upon her; the Heims desperately want a child and cannot have one. It’s not for me to question Your ways, Father, but I have to admit I dinna understand them. Common sense says the solution to everyone’s problem is clear, yet that’s man’s planning and not Your wisdom. Unless, or until, You give me a clear sense that You want me to approach Mercy about relinquishing her babe, I’ll wait in silence.

  “Kunstler!” Grossvater’s voice sounded loudly through the open barn door.

  Mercy swiftly set Stubby down next to Freckle and headed toward the other exit. Ever since Otto broke their engagement, the only time she’d seen him was at church. Never once had he offered to come help with the chores or crops when Grossvater was unable to work. Not once had his mother thought to bring by food. When gossips whispered about the babe Mercy carried, it hurt. But buried in that hurt was the hope that Mrs. Kunstler would come and speak privately with her, to let her know what to expect, to console her and promise to help with the birth. Those hopes were in vain. Mercy tugged on the barn’s back door.

  It was stuck.

  Chapter 6

  Otto would come inside and walk the length of the barn so he could inspect the reaper. For a moment, Mercy considered scrambling up into the hay loft. No. This is my home.

  She sat back down beside Freckle’s box and filled her skirts with puppies. A minute later, Grossvater and Otto came inside.

  Otto caught sight of her and averted his gaze. Still, he kept coming. He stood above her and cleared his throat. “Miss Stein, those are fine hounds there.”

  Miss Stein? This man who was supposed to have been her husband now greeted her as if she were practically a stranger. Mercy looked down at the wiggly little bundles of fur and nodded. “Ja, they are fine, indeed.”

  To her relief, Grossvater leaned against the wall of the stall. “Even the runt is growing to good size.”

  “Everyone knows Freckle’s pups all become good hunting dogs.” Otto hunkered down and reached for a solid brown male. “Since the day you promised me a puppy, I’ve looked forward to claiming one.”

  Mercy sucked in a pained gasp as memories washed over her. He used seeking a puppy as an excuse to come over, and he asked me to marry him that afternoon. Unable to quell the emotions, she blurted out, “More than one promise was made that day.”

  Otto’s head shot up. Finally, he looked at her. “So is that what you want? For the sake of a promise you would marry a man who cannot bear to look at you? Who, every time he sees you, remembers how he slew a man? You would want me to rear the child of the man I killed?”

  “What I want?” Her voice shook. “Do you think I want any of what has happened? To bear the pain, the shame, and to carry a child? No! I don’t want any of that. I wanted a man who would love me regardless of what life brought and who would stand beside me in the bad times. You were right
to break your promise to wed me, because you are not that kind of man.”

  “Mercy,” Grossvater said softly.

  Her eyes swam with tears. “I do not know whether my grandfather is calling my name or reminding me to treat you with mercy.”

  “This has been very … difficult for both of us,” Otto said.

  One by one, she placed the puppies back in the box. “In three weeks, the pups will be weaned. We will reserve that one for you.” She went into the house, opened the bottom drawer of her wardrobe, and pulled out a white bundle. Until now, she’d dared to hope that Otto would overcome his upset and realize his love for her was stronger than what had happened. He wouldn’t.

  Slowly, she unfolded the beautiful gown she was to have worn. All of it wouldn’t fit in the stove at once, so she cut it. Piece by piece, she burned it. As the last threads burned, Mercy retied her apron strings. Her waist hadn’t changed a bit. In time, it would expand, but she didn’t know when—and she couldn’t ask anyone. Never had she felt so alone.

  “I thought to ask your opinion of this drawing.” Rob laid the floor plan out on her dining table. “It’s a house plan.”

  Drying her hands on a dish towel, Mercy said, “I’ve seen many plans in American Woman’s Home and in Ladies’ Home Journal.”

  “On the train from New York, everyone shared their books and magazines. Scientific American captured my attention. It featured some of George Barber’s homes.”

  Mercy merely nodded.

  “My brothers both think I’m daft for mailing away for this, but it seemed to me that since Barber is already well known for his plans, it only makes sense to lean on his experience.”

  “Then why do you ask me what I think?”

  “Because you’re a woman. Three bachelors are liable to overlook something important when it comes to the practicalities of running a household. When Chris or Duncan marries, it would be a shame to find out we’d forgotten or been ignorant about an essential.”

  “What makes you think Mr. Barber has not given thought to such matters?”