Love's Sporting Chance: Volume 2: 5 Romantic Sporting Novellas

by Cynthia Hickey

  Ruby swallowed and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

  “My mother was a suffragette. My father supported everything she did. He believed in the cause of women getting the vote as much as she did. He was driving her to a suffragette meeting when they had an accident. They both died.” Ruby paused, and picked up the pot of tea to take a sip. It was still too hot, and it burned her lips. She set the pot back down. “Afterward, some people told me what happened was my mother’s fault, that her suffrage support was against God’s will. Others said it was my father’s fault for not being the head of his household and keeping his wife in line. I had a choice. I could reject everything my parents had taught me about God’s love and mercy and divine will, or I could reject what people were saying about my parents. I chose God.”

  “You chose well.”

  “Not according to tradition, though.”

  Silence fell between them.

  “If I’ve learned anything from you, Ruby, it’s that just because something is a tradition that doesn’t necessarily make it right.”

  ~

  Warren weighed his next words, rolling them around in his mouth like marbles before he let them loose. “I grew up in a very traditional home,” he paused, not sure how much he wanted to say.

  “I thought maybe you were raised by Gypsies.”

  He blinked. She flashed him a grin. She was teasing him.

  “Did you have a big family?”

  “Two older sisters. They both married and left town as soon as they could get men to put rings on their fingers.”

  “Oh?”

  “My father was—is—a bully. He rules his home, and his church, with an iron fist at all times.” Warren absently rubbed his jaw. “Sometimes a literal fist.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  Warren held up his hand. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t want your pity.”

  To his surprise, she reached up and wrapped her small hand around his fingers. “It’s not pity. You’ve overcome something difficult. I’m just sorry you had to go through such a thing.”

  Warmth rolled through his hand, wrist, and up his arm. Her touch, her intentions, were genuine. Without thinking, he turned his hand in hers and linked their fingers together, reveling in her touch, in the simple human contact. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned toward him.

  He circled his other hand around the back of her head, fingers slipping into her soft cap of hair, and kissed her. Quite thoroughly. Until his heart was racing and his scalp tingled. When he released her and drew back, he knew a thrill of pure male pride to see that her cheeks were flushed and her breath was coming fast.

  “Kissing was against the rules,” he whispered.

  “You broke that rule, if I had to guess.”

  It was his turn to flush. “Once or twice.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” She withdrew her hand, turned away.

  The wind outside howled against the shack, rattling the tin roof and shaking the walls.

  “How’s your arm?” She was changing the subject, he realized, putting some distance between them again. Probably a good thing, considering the intensity of the kiss they’d just shared.

  “It hurts. We should try to get some sleep.”

  She nodded, rose to stoke the fire. “This should last us through the night, but it’s still going to get cold.”

  She sat down beside him again and he wrapped his good arm around her shoulders. “Shared warmth, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you mind if I pray?”

  “Of course not. Please do.”

  Warren closed his eyes. “Heavenly Father…” He began. He prayed for their safety, for the weather to clear, and for Amy and her labor and delivery. And when he felt Ruby slump against him in sleep, he closed his mouth and prayed silently for her.

  14

  Ruby woke off and on throughout the night to check the fire. Then she would return—for mutual warmth—to Warren’s side. Unerringly, he would wrap his good arm around her and pull her close. More than once she felt his lips moving against her hair as he picked up his prayers. She didn’t think he was getting any sleep due to the pain in his arm.

  Snuggling closer, she was grateful for the shared body heat. And his strength. Her opinion of the good doctor had changed dramatically since their first meeting. He was stronger than she’d first thought. Much stronger, now that she knew some of his history. She shuddered, less from the chill in the room than from the thought of him being beaten and abused by his father.

  She barely remembered her own father. He’d been a quiet man. So quiet he’d taken his wife’s family name as his own after their marriage so that their children would have the St. John heritage and all it entailed. He’d been quiet—maybe too quiet for his own good—but that was better than cruel and harsh.

  Listening to the wind continuing to roar outside, she wondered how much longer till morning. And she wondered what would happen when the storm abated and they were able to leave the tiny shack. He’d said he wanted her to give him a chance to prove his feelings for her, but would that change once they were back in town?

  Ruby let her head rest on Warren’s shoulder and shut her eyes. While she could, she would enjoy the closeness, and when they returned to reality, and he realized how little they had in common, she would have these moments to remember.

  ~

  Warren wasn’t sure if it was the ungodly, unrelenting pain in his arm, the icy cold air in the shack, or the sound of phantom voices in the wind that stirred him from a fitful sleep. Tentatively, he shifted position, Every muscle in his body was sore from being tossed off Trudy’s back and spending the night on the hard floor of a shack in the cold. But the pain in his arm trumped every other complaint.

  He grimaced at the makeshift sling, hoping it was enough. He’d had a bone reset once before, after his father had been unusually violent, and he didn’t relish the idea of repeating the experience.

  Ruby stirred beside him and sat up. He instantly missed her warmth, and the feel of her cuddled against him, relaxed and trusting.

  “Do you hear that?” Her voice was rough with fatigue and cold. “I hear voices.”

  “I thought it was the wind.”

  “Shh. Listen.”

  He closed his eyes, strained to hear something. And there it was. Voices. Human voices.

  “I hear them.”

  “What time do you think it is?” She asked, scrambling to her feet. She crossed the shack and flipped back a dirty canvas square tacked to the wall, exposing an equally dirty window. And light.

  “We made it through the night, at least, and it looks like the storm has abated.”

  She hurried to the door and tugged it open. A foot or more of fluffy snow tumbled into the room, along with more light. The voices calling for them were clearly audible now.

  “Here! We’re in the shack!” Ruby cried, cupping her hand around her mouth to amplify the sound.

  Silence. Then more shouting.

  “Up here!” She called, and then turned to Warren with a smile. “They’ve found us. I knew they would.”

  “Thank heaven,” Warren said, smiling back. Their eyes met and held. The hours they’d spent together had changed what was between them. Whether those changes would survive reality remained to be seen.

  Within a few minutes, the shack was full of men on skis and snowshoes. Warren recognized a few of the men from church, a couple more from around town. Lars pushed to the front on his skis.

  “You are all right, Miss Ruby?”

  “I’m fine, Lars, but Dr. Kelly has a broken arm. Someone will need to get him back to town.” Ruby said. “If someone could come with me to Amy’s cabin, I’d like to set out as soon as possible.”

  A murmur rippled through the group. Warren sat up straighter. “Ruby, someone else can go check on Amy and her baby. You’ve had hardly any sleep.”

  She swiveled to face him. “So? Someone has to see to her, see if she and the baby are all
right, assuming there is a baby. You can’t do it.” She gestured in the general direction of his swollen arm. “Next to you I have the most experience.”

  Warren closed his mouth. If she had set out for the Beasley homestead on her skis, instead of his feeble attempt to ride out on horseback, she probably would have made it to the cabin in time for the delivery. The truth of that made him feel inadequate, impotent, and helpless. Even more helpless than he actually was.

  “That’s true. Do you want to take my bag?” He couldn’t believe he’d offered it the instant the words left his mouth. His medical bag was his identity, his power, and his strength. It represented the man he had grown to be. She must have sensed his hesitation.

  “I doubt I’ll need it. I have my pack. But thank you.”

  He nodded, grim. “If the baby hasn’t arrived, and her water broke sometime yesterday morning, she’s at risk of puerperal fever.”

  Ruby nodded. “I know.” She stepped toward him, dropped to her haunches beside him. “Any advice?”

  Warren’s heart flooded with surprised gratitude. He reached up and cupped her face with his good hand.

  “No. You know what you’re doing. She’ll be in excellent hands.”

  For an instant, she leaned into his hand, as if she was absorbing his words, and for the first time he realized she wasn’t as confident as she presented.

  “Go. Bring back good news,” he said.

  She rose and swiveled.

  “Lars, will you personally make sure Dr. Kelly gets back to town safely?”

  Lars frowned. “I was planning to accompany you to the Beasley’s.”

  “I can make it on my own. Amy won’t want a slew of men there.” She tapped the brawny Swede on the arm. “Take care of Dr. Kelly, all right?”

  Lars nodded, and Ruby scooped up her pack and put her arms through the straps. Within minutes, she was gone, out the door, into a blinding white world of glittering powder and painful cold. A couple of their rescuers, both on skis so they could keep pace, accompanied her, despite her protestations, which made Warren feel better.

  Lars crossed arms the size of small tree trunks over his burly chest and glared down at Warren. Warren flinched under the man’s searing blue gaze.

  “Miss Ruby, she likes you.”

  “She does?”

  “She does. I don’t know why, since you can’t ski, but she does. Therefore, I will make sure you are returned to town safely,” Lars said in heavily accented English.

  Lars was true to his word, helping Warren onto a much sturdier travois than the one Ruby had used, and strapping him in, wrapped with blankets, with great care and consideration for his injured arm. When he was secure, Lars spooned a dose of laudanum into his mouth, despite Warren’s protests.

  “It will help.” Lars growled, and turned away to put on his skis.

  It wasn’t until he was bouncing and sliding down the mountain behind Lars that he allowed himself to contemplate the Swede’s assessment of Ruby’s feelings for him. Was it true? Did she like him?

  How far was it to the Beasley place? Would she be all right?

  “Lars! Lars?” He yelled. The Swede slowed, gradually.

  “How far is it to the Beasley place?”

  “A couple miles up the mountain. She knows the way. She’ll be fine.”

  Warren closed his eyes against the blinding light and the increasing drowsiness. “I hope so.”

  “She’s stronger than she looks.”

  Warren knew that to be true. Lars took off again and Warren let the world slip away.

  ~

  Smoke spiraled out of the chimney above the Beasley homestead, a one-room log structure less than fifty yards from the entrance to the mine. Ruby pushed forward the last few feet and slid to a stop. Ben and Robert, who had accompanied her despite her protestations, stopped behind her.

  She slipped out of her bindings and pounded on the front door.

  To her immense relief, the wail of a newborn broke the still, cold air.

  “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, as the door opened. Frank Beasley stood inside, holding a swaddled, screaming infant, and glowing with joy. Ruby pushed into the cabin.

  “Amy?”

  “In here, Miss St. John.”

  Ruby breathed a sigh of relief. Amy was propped on pillows on the bed.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Sore, and tired, but otherwise all right. I’m so sorry for causing such a fuss. Everything got so difficult after my water broke I thought for sure something was wrong, and then, all of a sudden, in the middle of that awful storm, there she was.” Amy dabbed at her eyes.

  “We’re calling her Emma,” Frank said, coming to stand beside the bed, and placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder.

  “I’m so glad everything turned out all right,” Ruby said. “May I examine you, and the baby? Just to make sure all is well? Dr. Warren will want to know.”

  “Dr. Warren?” Amy asked.

  Frank turned to his wife. “The new doc in town. I thought he was coming.” He turned to Ruby. “What happened to him?”

  “He’ll be all right. He had an accident and has a broken arm, but he should recover completely.” She swallowed. “He sent me instead.”

  Amy smiled. “I’m glad it’s you. I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

  Ruby felt a wave of pleasure at the young woman’s words. “Let’s have a look at you and the baby.”

  15

  Warren shifted in his bed, careful of his injured arm. Nona bustled about his apartment, cleaning up. He sniffed the air appreciatively. Cocoa. She was making cocoa.

  “Nona? What are you doing here?”

  “Just looking after our doctor during his convalescence. How are you today?”

  “What day is it?” Warren asked, suddenly panicked. How long had he been languishing in a laudanum-induced haze?

  She came to stand beside the bed. “Lars brought you back here yesterday around noon. You’ve been asleep for almost twenty-four hours.”

  He blinked. “What about Ruby? Where is she?”

  “She’s resting downstairs.”

  “The Beasley baby?”

  “Healthy and happy, as is the momma, according to Ruby.”

  “Are they here?”

  “No. Ruby examined them, found them both fit, and decided it best for them to stay where they were. Less stress for them both.”

  Warren nodded. He would have made the same choice.

  “She’s very smart.”

  “She should have gone away to school and gotten her degree.”

  Warren frowned. “Why didn’t she? She’s a natural healer.”

  “But not a natural student. She hated school. And she refuses to miss a ski season.” Nona made a sound, indicating what she thought of that, and brought him a mug of cocoa. “Don’t tell her I said anything.”

  “I won’t say anything to her.”

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  He sniffed the fragrant cocoa. “Do you think she would be willing to be my assistant permanently?”

  Nona jerked, stared him down. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Marriage. Partnership. I’m in love with her, Nona.”

  “Is this a side effect of the laudanum?”

  He laughed, but it hurt his arm and he stopped. “No. Although I admit it sounds a little crazy after such a short time.” Nona adjusted her skirt and perched on the edge of the bed.

  “Pappy and I only knew each other for six weeks before we married, and four of that was through telegrams and letters. It hasn’t always been easy, but I can’t imagine my life without him. His strengths cover my weaknesses, and my strengths cover his weaknesses.”

  Warren chuckled. “I don’t see weaknesses in either of you.”

  Nona smiled. “That’s what I mean. That’s marriage at its best.”

  “When Ruby wakes up, would you send her upstairs?”

  Nona nodded, rising. “She may need more convincing than I do, Warr
en. I hope you’re prepared to persevere.”

  He grinned. “I’m prepared.”

  “I’ll send her up.”

  ~

  “Ruby? It’s time to wake up, Ruby.”

  Ruby rolled over on the cot on the temporary exam room and met her grandmother’s steady gaze, a slightly faded mirror of her own. She yawned and stretched.

  “What time is it?”

  “Dinnertime. Would you mind taking a tray up to Dr. Kelly? He’s awake now.”

  “Of course. How is he?” Ruby pushed up to a seated position. “How is his arm?”

  “I think it will heal just fine.”

  Ruby sighed in relief. “I was so worried.”

  “Why don’t you freshen up? The tray is ready whenever you are.”

  Ruby stretched. “All right. Let me change clothes.” Then she remembered. Warren had said he had a proposition for her.

  She changed clothes in the storeroom, washed her face and combed her hair. Then she gathered the tray Nona had prepared, noting with surprise that it was set for two.

  “Does Dr. Kelly have company?”

  “No. I thought the two of you might want to share a meal, after what you went through.”

  “Oh.” Ruby picked up the tray. “Yes, I need to update him on Amy and Emma. Did I tell you they decided to name the baby Emma?”

  Nona murmured something, and Ruby headed up the stairs. The door to Warren’s apartment was ajar, and she pushed it open with her hip, finding him sitting up in the narrow bed.

  “I hope you’re hungry.”

  He smoothed the quilts to make a place for the tray.

  “I can eat at the table. Nona sent up food for both of us.”

  “Nonsense. Eat with me. I might need help, one-armed as I am.”

  They ate in companionable silence. Hearty bowls of stew, crusty rolls slathered in butter, and sweet, tangy lemon bars delivered by Mrs. Bauer.

  “This is like manna after that pickled egg.”

  Ruby grinned. “I’ll never eat another pickled egg again.”

  He swallowed a bite of stew, and she dabbed at his lip with a napkin to catch a drip. He caught her hand and held it.

  “Remember I said I have a proposition for you?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I figured that was pain-inspired and you’d forget about it.”