The Halsey Brothers Series

by Paty Jager

  Deep mumbling and his hands twitching at his sides confirmed he’d started to come around. The leg needed to be made stationary.

  “Mr. Smith, hold his leg still while I talk to him.” She switched places with the handyman and leaned over Clay’s face.

  “Mr. Halsey? Clay?” Apprehension bubbled in her chest. While she knew a professional demeanor was necessary, she also knew a patient responded better at a more personal level.

  His long dark eyelashes fluttered, and his full bottom lip quivered as he moaned.

  “Clay, it’s Dr. Tarkiel, Rachel. You fell and broke your leg. I have it set, but we still need to stabilize it.” She brushed the wisp of wet chestnut bangs off his forehead.

  “It hurts,” he whispered.

  The sound of his voice squeezed her chest. His pain had become her pain. She placed a palm on his cheek. “I know. If you’re awake enough to swallow, I can give you some medicine to help with the pain.”

  “Yes,” he hissed between his lips. Furrows formed on his brow and his color paled.

  “Keep holding his leg,” she said to Mr. Smith and hurried to her medicine cabinet. She tapped powdered laudanum into a glass and added water. Stirring the tonic, she returned to the table.

  “Drink this. It will ease the pain.” Rachel slid a hand under Clay’s head, raising him enough to sip the liquid.

  His nose wrinkled, and he shook his head at the glass. “That’s awful.”

  “But it will take away your pain. Try again.” She held the glass in front of his mouth again. His reluctance to drink the foul taste was a good sign.

  He drank the remainder.

  Rachel settled his head on the table and filled a basin with water. She unrolled an adhesive bandage and placed it in the basin. Picking up a square bandage, she sprinkled laudanum in the middle and placed it over the wound. Mr. Smith held Clay’s leg off the table while she wrapped a clean bandage from his ankle to below his knee. She placed two long flat strips of wood on either side of the leg and wrapped the whole thing with the soaked adhesive bandage. She still marveled at the genius who’d thought to press the white plaster of Paris powder into bandages to make casting material for broken bones.

  She rubbed each layer, smearing the plaster together and sealing the layers. The cast was an inch thick when she smiled at Mr. Smith.

  “That should keep him from doing harm while the bone heals.”

  Mr. Smith shook his head. “He’s a hard man ta keep still, Doctor.”

  “He isn’t going to be a problem for a couple days.” She walked to the smaller room housing two spring cots and retrieved a pillow and blanket.

  “I’m going to leave him on this table until he comes around again. When he does, I’ll need your help to move him to a cot.” Rachel placed a pillow under his head and tucked the blanket around Clay’s prone body.

  Mr. Smith touched the doorknob. “Jus’ give a whistle out the window.”

  “I will.” She walked across the floor and took his free hand, squeezing his large fingers. “Thank you. There’s not another person in this school who could have helped me.”

  Surprise crossed his wide features at her words of praise. He cleared his throat, withdrew his hand from hers, and strode from the room.

  Clay mumbled, and she hurried back to his side. The laudanum would keep him sedated and pain free for a couple hours, but she feared he might roll off the table. She tucked a pillow on either side of him and set to work cleaning her instruments.

  “Doc Tarkiel?”

  She jerked her head toward the door. Donny stood in the threshold. “Yes, Donny?”

  The boy ventured into the room. “I heard Mrs. White and Mr. Griffin talkin’ ’bout Clay. Is he here?” His soft almost shaky words were far from his usual gruff, intimidating attitude.

  “Yes. He broke his leg. I have him sedated at the moment.” She held out a hand. “Come over here.”

  The boy walked toward her. She grasped his hand, led him to the side of the table, and placed his hand on Clay’s arm.

  “He’s sleeping right now.”

  “But he’s gonna be all right?” Lines marred his smooth, youthful face.

  “He’ll be fine, but you’ll have to give him lessons here for the next month. He won’t be able to do much moving around until I take the cast off his leg.” She squeezed the boy’s shoulder. The man had touched so many lives at the school in a short time. Her heart thudded in her chest. Including hers.

  “Will he be ready to read tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know if he’ll be able to concentrate enough to read, but I know he would enjoy your company.”

  The boy’s smile grew and he patted Clay’s arm. “I’ll be by in the mornin’, Clay.” Donny grasped her hand and shook it. “Thank you, Dr. Tarkiel.”

  She held back a laugh. “For what?”

  “For helpin’ Clay.”

  “It’s my job, Donny. To help everyone at the school.” She glanced down at the slumbering man. But helping Clay brought a special joy.

  “I know, but just thanks.” His blank gaze shimmered with unshed tears. The reality of how much the man had come to mean to the boy in two short weeks shook her. She peered down at Clay. What have you done to put Donny and me under your spell?

  Donny’s feet scraped the floor as he left. Rachel pulled a chair alongside the table. She picked up the book on diseases she’d been reading earlier, sat in the chair, and studied the sleeping form. The top of his head went past the six foot table, and his shoulders spanned the width. It was a miracle he hadn’t done more damage from such a fall.

  Her gaze rested on his face. When awake his square chin, wide jaw, and crooked nose revealed him to be a man who knew how to take care of himself and others. Asleep, as he was now, he reminded her of an innocent boy. She swept a lock of hair off his forehead, touching his wide smooth brow. He mumbled, and his face lolled her direction.

  The urge to lean over and kiss his slightly parted lips overwhelmed her, and she moved toward him. His head jerked the other direction, and she yanked her body back in control.

  Shaking herself mentally, she forced her attention to the book. Little Sylvie’s rash took precedence over her curious infatuation with Clay Halsey.

  Chapter 6

  His head weighed as much as a cornerstone on the stamp mill. His leg throbbed from his ankle to his hip. Clay tried to wiggle his toes. Pain shot up the side of his leg.

  “Gah!” Where was he, and why did his leg hurt like blazes?

  “Clay? Clay, it’s me, Dr. Tarkiel.” A small hand wrapped around the fingers of his left hand. Who was Dr. Tarkiel? Why were they in the dark?

  He blinked. His eyelids were open, why was it dark? Where was he?

  His dry throat strained to press words through his numb lips. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the infirmary.” The sweet voice stirred happy thoughts. The intimate tickle of fingers pushing hair off his forehead unnerved him. Who was this woman? Where the hell was the infirmary? They didn’t have one in Sumpter.

  He swallowed. “Where?”

  “The infirmary?” Her tone held skepticism—and a warble of fear?

  He nodded and wished she’d turn on a light. How could a room be so dark?

  “At the blind school in Salem.” With ease she held up his wrist, the pads of her fingers finding his pulse point.

  “Why? Why am I here?”

  “You fell off the ladder helping Mr. Smith. You put a fair-sized bump on your head and broke your leg.” She replaced his hand. A cool palm rested on his forehead.

  “No. School. Why am I at a blind school?” He shifted his head toward the warmth of her nearness, squinting as he tried to see a silhouette in the darkness.

  She inhaled loudly, and her hands stilled. “Because—” Her voice descended and a chair scraped across the floor. “What do you remember before the fall?”

  “Zeke and Maeve came to visit. Ethan’s courting the widow Miller, even though Miles—”


  Miles threw dynamite at him.

  “Damn!” Clay tried to sit up. His head ached, and two small, but firm, hands held him down.

  “Stay down. Rest for a few minutes. Then I’ll call Mr. Smith to help move you to a bed.”

  “There’s lights on, right? I’m just a pathetic blind man.” He banged his head down on the hard surface below him. Pain was easier to bear than the despair engulfing him.

  “That’s no way to talk!”

  Her tone reminded him of his sharp tongued sister-in-law.

  “You are not pathetic. Donny has been helping move you along faster in your reading, and Mr. Smith has found your help outside most useful. If you hadn’t been bull-headed and climbed a ladder in the rain, you’d still be out helping him.” A chair scraped the floor and steps retreated.

  Clay raised a hand the weight of a sledgehammer to his face and wiped it over his unseeing eyes. Was he really learning to read? And was he a help to someone? He tried to remember why he’d climbed a ladder. A breeze washed the scent of lemons, tangy and fresh, over him. His mind connected the woman who scolded him with the scent.

  A shrill whistle rent the air. He jumped. Pain sliced up his leg. Blazes! He’d never had a broken bone before. A broken nose from a fight over a girl in primer school, but never more than that. He didn’t like the pain or the thought of being laid up.

  “Mr. Smith is on his way. I have a bed in the infirmary ready for you. It won’t be as comfortable as your bed in the cottage, but you’ll need around the clock supervision for a couple of days. Some people don’t respond well to laudanum.” She pulled something away from his sides. Cooler air washed over his body.

  “I don’t want laudanum. My uncle wrote letters to my pa about the use of the medicine during the war.” He winced the instant she tugged at his injured leg.

  “I’ve already given you a small amount.”

  Heavy footsteps approached. “Mr. Smith. Help me get him into a sitting position, and then we’ll walk him into the other room.” Her small hands pushed up under his shoulders, elevating his torso and reflecting lights through his head.

  “Blazes!” He gripped his head to still the spinning lights. His stomach roiled and dizziness hit.

  “He hit his head pretty hard.” Rachel moved to catch Clay’s slumping body. “We’ll have to carry him to the infirmary.” She scowled at the damp clothes covering his torso. She’d hoped to get him out of the dirty garments.

  Mr. Smith nudged her aside and scooped the man, nearly as large as his big frame, into his arms and carried him to the other room like a child.

  “Thank you! Let’s get him out of his shirt. I don’t want him catching consumption from wet clothes.” The damp undershirt had to come off, too. Rachel drew the sheet and blanket up under his chin.

  She pivoted from the bed and caught Mr. Smith watching her.

  “Ain’t proper you fussin’ over him.”

  “I’m a doctor. I’m trained to fuss over people. I have one more favor to ask of you.” She walked into the main room. “I’ll write a note to my parents letting them know I’ll spend the night here. If you would take it to them, I’d appreciate it.” She picked up a quill and dipped it in the ink pot.

  “You sure?” Mr. Smith’s hands fidgeted with the flap on the front pocket of his overalls.

  “You know my family aren’t bigots like the staff at this school. If it makes you uncomfortable, go to the back door, and give the note to our cook, Matilda.” She blew on the ink.

  Rachel folded the note and handed it to the handyman. “If he does well tonight, I’ll ask you to stay here with him tomorrow night.” She patted the big man’s arm and smiled. “I do understand proprieties.”

  He smiled back and shuffled out the door.

  Rachel scanned the room making sure all was tidy. Her stomach growled. She should have had Mr. Smith ask Mrs. Daniels to bring up a tray for both her and Clay. Until he was lucid, she didn’t dare leave him alone.

  The tap of Mrs. White’s shoe stopped in the doorway. Rachel didn’t want a confrontation, but she could see by the fists planted on the woman’s ample hips one was in the making.

  “Mr. Smith says you’re staying the night.”

  “Please, Mrs. White, lower your voice. You’ll disturb my patient.” Rachel crossed her arms and peered at the woman like her mother stared down politicians. “I had to give Mr. Halsey laudanum for the pain, and until I see how he reacts to it, I can’t have anyone else watching him.”

  “This isn’t proper.” The woman’s nostrils flared.

  “I am a doctor. It’s no different than if he were my patient in a hospital. I’d still remain to make sure all was going well.”

  “I can stay with him.”

  “You’re not a doctor, and you’re needed near the dorms. I don’t know what you’re worried about. He has a heavy cast on a leg that has to be giving him a great amount of pain. Mr. Halsey will be in no shape to make advances.” Rachel laughed at her own humor. No man would make advances toward her. Even a blind one would eventually discover her disfigurement.

  “You joke, but I know men. They can work their way until you let your guard down, and then you’re ruined.” Mrs. White’s eyes fogged over.

  This was a woman who’d been hurt by a man. Intrigued, Rachel felt an unexpected connection with the matron. They’d both been spurned.

  “I can guarantee Mr. Halsey won’t be in any mood to use his charms on me tonight.” She settled an arm around the matron’s shoulders. “Would you ask Mrs. Daniels to send up a tray with dinner for me and some broth for Mr. Halsey?”

  The matron nodded as Rachel maneuvered her to the door.

  “Thank you. I do appreciate your concern. If he does well through the night, I’ll have Mr. Smith stay here with the patient at night.”

  The other woman’s eyes rounded, and her mouth shifted from a surprised “o” to a stiff line of disapproval. “It isn’t proper for that man to be in this building all night.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to move in until Mr. Halsey’s leg is healed.” Rachel stifled a laugh at the war of emotions wrinkling the matron’s brow and contorting her lips. “We’ll see how things go, and I’ll discuss the matter with Mr. Griffin tomorrow.” She waved Mrs. White down the hall.

  Bed springs creaked. She rushed to the small infirmary. Clay’s open eyes stared at the ceiling, and his body wrestled with trying to sit up.

  “Clay, lie still.” She put her hands on his bare shoulders, pushing gently to make him lie back. The covers slid to his waist. His broad muscled chest, dusted with dark curls, sped her heart and warmed her face.

  He grasped her hand. “How long am I gonna be stuck in this bed?”

  The heat of his hand flashed up her arm and fluttered in her chest. “A-at least two weeks. After that we’ll see how you’re doing.” She cupped his cheek in her free palm. The day’s growth of whiskers pricked her palm, emphasizing his maleness and coiling heat in her mid-section. “Donny’s coming by tomorrow to visit and continue your lessons here.” He smiled at the name. “Do you remember where you are?”

  He nodded. “The blind school. Ethan brought me here over two weeks ago. I climbed the ladder to help Jasper repair the shed roof. Can you prop me up?”

  His grip on her fingers softened, and his thumb moved across the back of her hand. Warm shivers ran in waves through her stomach and up her back. His touch raised her temperature and sent shivery tremors of excitement through her body.

  “Let’s wait until your dinner arrives. With your head wound, I’d rather you stay still for a while longer.” She leaned over him, grasping the covers to pull them back over his stunning body.

  He raised his hands and captured her head between his palms. Instinct jerked her back, but his hands gently held her in place.

  “Don’t.” His raspy voice stopped her backward motion. “Dr. Tarkiel, either your laudanum has made me lose my senses, or my curiosity is finally getting the better of me.” His hold relaxed. Hi
s fingers roamed over her loosely pulled back hair.

  She kept her naturally curly hair short around her face to help conceal her scar. His hands started forward, and she pulled back again.

  “Please. I won’t do anything inappropriate. My fingers are my eyes.”

  She grasped his hands, drawing them down. “I have brown curly hair, the color of scuffed shoes. My face is oval, no distinct cheekbones. My nose is neither large nor small and sits above small lips. My eyes are brown.”

  Clay frowned. She painted a very dismal picture of herself. “Do you always describe yourself so plainly?”

  She sighed. “I will always tell you the truth. I’ve accepted my plainness.”

  He started to shake his head, but the movement flashed pain in his temple. “No one is plain. Every person I’ve ever met has some characteristic that sets them apart from others.”

  “Like your crooked nose?”

  He didn’t miss the teasing in her voice or her attempt to turn the conversation from herself. “That might have happened for the wrong reason, but it sets me apart from my brothers who all have the same color hair and eyes. We’re each just an inch or two shorter or broader shouldered than the next one. Gil, the baby of the family, is six foot, and has the narrowest shoulders. But dang if he doesn’t have the prettiest face.” He snorted. “’Course we don’t tell him that. We’ve been telling him he’s the ugliest. Keeps him humble.”

  Rachel’s laughter soothed his aching head like a warm tonic.

  “I imagine growing up with—how many brothers?”

  “Including myself, five.” He rubbed his thumb over their clasped hands still resting on his chest.

  “And Gil’s the smallest? My heaven, how big is the biggest?” Her weight settled on the side of his bed. Her thigh and hip warm against his hip and side.

  “Ethan makes an imposing sight. He’s six-four and his shoulders scrape most doorways when he walks through. I’d guess Jasper is about his size.”

  “My! You Halseys are big men. I feel sorry for your mother feeding and clothing you.”

  Sadness washed over him. He’d been a young man when his parents were killed, but he still ached for the arms he remembered snuggling in when he was ill or scared. “She didn’t live to see us grown.”