Warren was young and hale and hearty. He’d be fine. It would be an adventure. A ripple of apprehension tickled the base of his spine. He wasn’t the adventurous type.
“The boys almost have the track cleared. Steamboat Springs, next stop.” The conductor passed through the car, punching tickets. He paused when he looked at Warren’s ticket.
“Steamboat your final stop?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fine place. Be sure you enjoy that Winter Carnival. It’s quite a party.”
Warren stiffened slightly. “I’m not much for parties.”
The conductor grinned. “Never been out here before, have you?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, try to go in with an open mind. Folks out here do what they’ve gotta do to survive and thrive.”
With that cryptic statement, the man moved on, swaying with the rolling motion of the train.
A nervous tic twitched under Warren’s left eye. He’d never been accused of having an open mind.
As the train rounded the corner he could see electric lights winking on, doing battle with the early onset of winter darkness that shrouded the valley in early January. The brakes squealed and Warren’s fellow passengers began to gather their belongings. Many of them were weekend vacationers, from what he’d overheard in the dining car. They came to relax and socialize. Warren wasn’t interested in either of those activities. He wanted to be a doctor, a run-of-the-mill family physician.
He remained motionless even when the train chugged to a stop, caught in anxiety’s paralyzing grip. What if he had made a terrible mistake? He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly.
“Lord, You are the God of order, and I trust you with my life. Please, order my steps,” he whispered.
“Are you all right, sir?”
Warren looked into the concerned face of the conductor who was making the trek back through the cars. “Just gathering my courage.”
“Whatever it is you’ve got to do, it’s a comfort knowing the Almighty has heard your prayers.”
It was Warren’s turn to smile. “Yes, it is.” He shook the man’s hand, appreciating the connection. The conductor moved down the aisle, checking seats.
He collected his carefully folded copy of the Rocky Mountain News, his hat, his coat, and his satchel, and stepped into the aisle. He didn’t feel any tangible sense of God’s power, certainly didn’t feel ready for the task ahead of him, but he knew he wasn’t alone, and that would have to be enough.
He stepped off the train into air so dry and cold the hairs in his nose froze stiff after the first breath and his eyes watered in response to the chill. He scurried after the other passengers toward the station, each of them tumbling through the door and heaving a sigh of relief when they reached the warmth inside. Warren sought directions from the clerk at the ticket window.
“The St. John store? Corner of Eighth and Lincoln. Straight up the street that way, you can’t miss it.” The young man, chin speckled with blemishes and golden fuzz, jerked his thumb to the left, then returned his attention to the book he was reading.
Warren stopped at the door, reached into his valise and withdrew a heavy wool scarf and leather gloves. Clapping his fedora on his head, he triple-wrapped the scarf around his neck to cover his nose and mouth, and tugged on his gloves. It wouldn’t do for the town’s new doctor to take ill his first week in town, he thought.
The scarf partially blocked the chill, but it was still bitterly cold, and the sidewalks—if there were sidewalks—were covered with a solid coating of hard-packed snow and ice. His thin-soled calf leather city shoes, the ones he’d bought himself as a graduation present, didn’t serve him well on the slippery surface. He lurched like a drunkard up the street, grabbing onto light posts and signs and the sides of buildings to stay upright. Dusk had fully fallen on the valley, and the streets were vacant.
No wonder, he thought, it’s too cold for anyone to be outside. Ahead, he could just make out the words “St. John’s General Store and Dry Goods” painted on the side of a two-story brick building. His destination. If he could get there without breaking his neck, he’d count it a blessing. He adopted a shuffling gait, moving each foot forward a few inches at a time like a penguin to keep his footing.
Doc Eby could have mentioned the need for boots, he groused. Boots would be his first purchase in Steamboat.
Something whizzed past him, a dark, sleek shape shooting down the center of the empty street at breakneck speed. Startled by the apparition, he lost his balance. Arms wind-milling, he went down, landing hard on his backside, long legs splayed out in front of him like a child’s toy.
He mentally checked himself for fractures or other debilitating injury. Finding nothing broken, merely bruised, he got to his hands and knees, considered crawling on all fours the remaining thirty or so feet to the front door of the store, and then, as the cold soaked through his gloves, forced himself upright, scanning his surroundings for signs of the creature. The gliding figure was gone.
He cupped his hands against the store window and peered inside. Only the barest glow of light illuminated the interior. Warren rapped on the door with stiff knuckles. Doc Eby had assured him the building’s owner, or someone from the store, would be waiting for his arrival. Perhaps they’d forgotten, or gotten the days confused, or given up and gone home when the train was late.
He stepped back and turned a slow circle. More lights were coming on as restaurants opened for dinner. Several blocks down he spotted a sign for a hotel and sighed. If no one answered at the store, he’d have to go get a room. He contemplated the contents of his wallet. Getting a hotel room would leave him strapped for cash, but he had enough for one night.
He raised his fist to bang on the door again, only to have it swing open. He jerked his hand back just before it connected with the upturned chin of a most delectable young woman.
He stepped back in horror. “I beg your pardon, miss. I didn’t think anyone heard my first knock.”
She cocked her head to one side and cupped a hand around one ear. “Sorry? What did you say?”
Her cheeks were flushed and she seemed out of breath, as though just answering the door had been a strenuous workout. Was she also hard of hearing? “I said, I beg your pardon,” he repeated, raising his voice.
She shook her head, and he could see from the faint light that her eyes were the color of aquamarines. “I still can’t hear you. Maybe you could take off the scarf?”
He blinked. Then realized his triple-wrapped wool scarf muffled his nose and mouth. He whipped off the scarf, feeling foolish. “I’m sorry, again. I didn’t think anyone heard me knock the first time. I was about to knock again when you opened the door.”
“I didn’t hear you the first time. I was just locking up for the night and saw you standing out here.”
“You weren’t expecting me?”
Warren stepped back and peered through the gloom at the sign that hung over the door. He was at the right place, wasn’t he? “Doc Eby told me someone would be expecting my arrival.”
Those marvelous blue eyes widened, and she clapped a hand to her forehead. “You must be the new physician! I thought the train had been delayed for the night. Oh dear. I’m so sorry, please, come in.” Instead of just stepping back to let him pass, she reached out, grabbed his sleeve and dragged him through the door.
“I went down to the station and asked after the train. Someone said it was likely to take all night to clear that portion of track.” She snapped on the lights, flooding the building with light. Warren blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the glare.
“Let me find the keys, and the box Doc left for you,” the young woman said, her voice muted as she rummaged under the counter. Warren looked around. It was a lovely shop, clean and orderly. Bolts of fabric were lined up according to color against one wall. Displays of canned goods were arranged in artful presentations. The tension in Warren’s shoulders melted away, soothed by the tidy scene. Yes, a ve
ry nice store, indeed.
“Found ’em!” The woman popped up from behind the counter like a character in a carnival game. He looked at her more thoroughly. A blue and yellow striped knit cap hid her hair over a bright green sweater and a red split skirt. Nothing matched, yet she radiated a kind of indomitable energy that appealed to him and repelled him at the same time, like watching a tornado from a distance.
“I’ll show you the way upstairs.” She dangled a ring of keys from two fingers of one hand and clutched a thick brown parcel in the other. Like an industrious hummingbird, she bustled around the counter and buzzed toward a door near the back wall. It was only as she began to climb the stairs that he noticed her favoring her right leg.
“Are you injured?”
“It’s nothing. Just a strained muscle.”
Warren cleared his throat and straightened his spine. “I am a physician, Miss…er…”
She was halfway up the stairs. He was at the bottom. She turned, made eye contact with him. “It’s Miss St. John, and my leg will be fine. I’m training for the ski jumping competition at the Winter Carnival and I had a rather bad landing yesterday, but it’s not that bad. Just sore.”
2
Ruby peered at the young doctor from beneath her lashes, gauging his reaction. His eyes widened, exposing irises so dark brown they appeared black. Shock, horror, and something like fear crossed his face. She suppressed a groan, swiveled, and climbed the stairs, ignoring the ache in her leg. She was familiar with the disapproval that came with her choice of leisure activities, and had no desire to explain her reasons to this man.
He caught up with her at the top of the stairs, missed the loose tread and stumbled, nearly pitching into her. He caught himself just in time.
“If you’re handy with a hammer, that tread needs fixing.” She gestured toward the third stair from the top, the one he’d tripped over. “I’ve had it on my list, but I haven’t gotten to it yet.” She’d been meaning to fix it. Frustration rolled through her. She tried so hard to keep up with everything, and yet it seemed something always fell through the cracks.
He straightened, adjusted his jacket. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She nodded, motioned toward the corridor. “The doctor’s office is on this side. His apartment is on the other. Which do you want to see first?”
“The office, please.”
All business, this one, she thought. Ruby flicked the keys through her fingers until she found the right one. She opened the door, the residual tang of iodine triggering a wave of nostalgia. Doc Eby had been her doctor her whole life. She missed him. But she was glad he’d gone to Florida, joined his grandchildren, and would be cared for in his later years.
Ruby entered the office and snapped on the overhead light. The new doctor squinted against the bright lights until his eyes adjusted. She watched as he began to circle the room, pausing here and there to touch an instrument. Doc Eby, despite his age, had insisted on the most modern equipment in his practice.
Oh my, this was a handsome man, she thought, suddenly conscious of her ski riding attire. Not that someone like him, with his thick black hair and beautiful dark eyes, would consider someone like her anything but a hoyden, judging from the way he’d looked at her when she’d mentioned her skiing habit. He picked up a rubber mallet and turned it over.
“Doc Eby was a stickler for the best tools of the trade,” Ruby said, feeling suddenly defensive on the old doctor’s behalf.
The handsome young physician nodded appreciatively. “I can see that. It will take me a day or two to go through his supplies to see what, if anything, needs to be ordered. Do I do that through the store?”
Ruby waved the brown package. “All that information is in here. He listed his best suppliers for you, the ones who don’t charge extra for shipping.”
“Excellent,” he nodded. “And the apartment? I don’t want to keep you.” He waved a graceful hand—a doctor’s hand with long, slender fingers—toward the dark windows.
“Oh, it’s fine. I’ve got a headlamp, and I’m used to the trek.”
“Where are you going? I assumed you lived here, at the store.”
“No. I’ll ski home. It’s not too far.” She watched those expressions of horror and fear cross his face again and wanted to say something unpleasant. Instead, she said, “Let me show you the apartment.”
Across the hall, she unlocked the door to the doctor’s apartment, then removed the keys to the office and the apartment from the key ring, and held them out. “These are yours now, at least as long as you want them.”
“Thank you,” he said. He put the keys in his pocket. She handed him the package, too. He tucked it under one arm.
“Doc Eby wasn’t very good at separating work from the rest of his life.” She flicked on the lights in the apartment. “I’m glad he’s gone off to Florida. His daughter is there, and a couple of his grandchildren.”
“For a small town doctor it makes sense to be close to one’s office,” the young doctor replied.
“I’m sorry, what was your name again?” Ruby asked, turning toward him. He was at least six inches taller than Doc Eby, with broad shoulders.
“Warren Kelly.” Warren extended his hand. “Dr. Warren Kelly.”
Ruby grasped his outstretched hand and felt a tremor run up her arm. Goodness, how did he ever get correct pulse readings from his female patients? “Nice to meet you, Dr. Kelly.”
She ushered him into the Spartan apartment. Doc Eby had focused his attention on the state of his office. The apartment held a narrow single bed in an iron frame, a desk and chair, a basic bath with a tub, sink, and toilet, and a rudimentary kitchenette with a small stove, sink, and icebox.
“This is nice,” he said.
“The store is open Monday through Friday from seven-thirty to five-thirty, and Saturdays from eight to noon if you need anything. If there’s an emergency, you can catch my grandmother or me at home. The number is next to the phone.” She motioned toward the black telephone perched on the hall table.
“Very good. I’ll just run down and get my bags and get settled in.” Ruby stepped back so he could pass and followed him down the stairs. Halfway down his stomach growled, loud enough that she laughed.
He turned, flushing with embarrassment. “I should probably get something to eat. What do you recommend?”
“There’s a café across the street, and the hotel has a restaurant, but I’d recommend the café.”
He glanced at his shoes and looked up. “Can you just sell me some canned goods for the night? Soup, maybe?”
“What size shoes do you wear? Doc Eby ran a tab in the store. I can add a pair of boots to your order.”
He smiled, a real smile, and Ruby nearly stumbled coming off the last step. Darn Doc Eby. She’d told him to find some cranky old doctor to replace himself. He’d laughed at her. And now she had to look at Dr. Gorgeous and try to think of him in medical terms. Darn you, Doc. I hope you like Florida!
“I’d appreciate that. It’s a miracle I didn’t break my neck between here and the train station.”
“Would you like to see what we have available?” Why was she interacting with him? Nona could take care of him in the morning. He grinned and she felt her knees quiver. No doctor should look like he looked.
“Boots are the first thing on my list of things to buy, but I think I can wait until tomorrow. What I can’t wait for is food.”
Ruby shuffled to the canned goods. “Here are your options for soup. Feel free to use whatever you need from the store. That’s what we did with Doc. Write down what you use on the ledger under the cash register so we can keep track of inventory.”
“Thank you.”
“I should head out. My grandparents will worry. Will you be all right until tomorrow? Once folks know you’re in town it’s going to get hectic.”
He plucked a can of soup from a nearby shelf. “I’ll be fine.”
The poor fool had no idea what he was in for, she thought.
Her gaze fell to his shiny, fine, city shoes. Lord, let this man have better skills in medicine than he has in choosing footwear. After two weeks without their family doctor, she expected an onslaught of Steamboat patients as soon as they knew their new doctor was in town. Ruby had been seeing patients with acute conditions, applying the training she’d received at Doc Eby’s side, but that didn’t compare to having a real doctor in town.
“I’ll lock up on my way out,” Ruby said.
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
She flinched at the unanticipated question. “Probably. I’m here almost every day.” She wondered if Doc had told this man about her helping him in the office.
“I’ll head upstairs then. Good night, Miss St. John.”
“Good-night, Doctor.”
Ruby watched Dr. Warren Kelly disappear up the stairs with his can of soup and his valise. Doc Eby had a twisted sense of humor, she thought. For years he’d threatened to bring in a young, handsome doctor to take over his cases. One who would sweep Ruby off her feet and make her fall in love with him. For years she’d ignored Doc Eby’s threats.
Doctor Warren Kelly was, without a doubt, handsome and polite, but he wasn’t her type. His shocked expression when she’d said she was training for the ski jumping competition, coupled with the odd way he’d looked at her bobbed hair and her split skirt, told her he was much too conservative. Likely he was just another of the physicians who disapproved of women’s ski jumping. She’d read some of the articles that denounced the sport as somehow more dangerous to women than to men because of their “wandering wombs.” Ruby snorted. That article had gone right into the wastebasket.
Ruby moved around the store, checking doors and windows. If Dr. Kelly subscribed to that same ridiculous line of thought about the “female organism,” it wasn’t her problem. She didn’t need his approval, or anyone else’s, and she wasn’t going to waste her breath trying to convince him that women were just as capable of flying off a ski jump as men.
She went into the back room and set two extra mousetraps. The shop girl, Alice, had mentioned seeing one that morning. Traps set, she dusted off her hands, mentally brushing aside Dr. Kelly’s perceived disapproval.
Love's Sporting Chance: Volume 2: 5 Romantic Sporting Novellas Page 14