Brides of Texas

by Hake, Cathy Marie

  Chapter 7

  Her palms were moist. Mercy traded the house plans from one hand to the other so she could slip her hands on the edge of her apron to dry them. Duncan arrived this morning, declaring the doctor needed the plans. Of course, he did that immediately after promising Peter that they’d go fishing once the weeding was done.

  Though early in the day, the June heat had begun to build. The door to the doctor’s office was open. Mercy stood at the threshold and decided she ought to knock—after all, the doctor didn’t just work here; he and his brothers lived here, as well.

  “Hey, Rob!” Christopher Gregor appeared in the hall and shouted up the staircase as he yanked Mercy inside. “The plans are here!”

  Of all the brothers, Christopher was the one who never ceased to startle her. His actions were invariably swift and often unexpected. Mercy barely kept from screaming.

  Chris grinned at her, completely unaware of how he’d practically sent her into a panic. “Rob said you think we ought to keep some of the embellishments on the house. You’d better be ready for a fight, because I’m holding out to eliminate every last one.”

  “It’s your house.” She managed to scoot away from him.

  “That’s what I’m telling them. I’ll do most of the construction. I used to do a lot of the mine construction back home.”

  “Oh.”

  “Good morning, Miss Stein.” The doctor descended the stairs.

  “I gave your brother the plans.” She started to turn toward the door to make a quick escape.

  “Actually, while you’re here, I’d appreciate some help.”

  “No fair askin’ the lass. It’s your own fault.” Chris folded his arms across his chest and growled at Mercy, “He slept through breakfast.”

  “I didn’t mean anything about food,” the doctor snapped.

  Chris leaned toward her. “Pay no heed to his surly attitude. He gets that way often enough. One night with a few paltry interruptions and he gets cranky.”

  “So you need some breakfast?”

  “No, I dinna need you minding my belly.” The doctor scowled at his brother. “Go make yourself useful.”

  “Nae. ’Tis too much fun staying here for the moment.”

  “This is a touchy subject,” the doctor began.

  The whole matter seemed far too dubious. Mercy murmured, “Then perhaps you ought to have someone else assist you.”

  “I seriously doubt anyone else could help.” The doctor heaved a sigh. “Come out to the back.”

  “You go on ahead. I’m not fool enough to chance it,” Christopher announced.

  “Coward,” the doc muttered.

  Mercy tagged along and tried to ignore the smell of scorched oatmeal as she passed by the stove. She had no idea what she was getting roped into, but the brotherly banter struck her as amusing. Once she reached the back steps, she gave the doctor a confused look.

  Features strained, he whispered, “So you dinna know what to do, then, either?”

  She blinked. “About what?”

  The doctor cringed at the normal volume she’d spoken in and whispered even more softly, “That.” He pointed to a huge pasteboard box.

  Mercy leaned forward, looked inside, and started to giggle.

  “Now then”—the doctor’s brows puckered—” ’tisna all that funny.”

  “Just yesterday, you told me you were going to get a house kit. I didn’t think you meant this kind.” She went down on her knees by the box where a cat was nursing a litter of kittens—but in contrast to all the other marmalade-colored babies, one was black and white.

  Doc leaned down and clamped his hands on her upper arms as she reached for the baby skunk. He murmured, “I wasna askin’ you to get rid of the beast—just for some advice. I read about them, and I dinna think it’s wise for you to be so close.”

  “He’s a spotted skunk. If he’s ready to do mischief, he’ll stand on his hands.” She didn’t pick up the kit. Instead, she rubbed each of the tiny kittens in the litter. “They’re all about the same age and size—about six weeks.”

  “So how do we reunite him with his mother? And how do we get rid of them all?”

  Mercy sat back on her heels. “Spotted skunks don’t stay any one place for long. They roam. The mother could be anywhere—in a rotten log or an abandoned burrow. She probably came to the house because you’ve set food out for the cat.”

  “So she could return tonight and reclaim her kit?”

  “It is possible but not probable. When mothers and their babies are set apart, they don’t come back together again.” She turned to look at the doctor. “What you read told you how stinky a skunk is, but they are shy creatures. They only protect themselves if they feel threatened.”

  “Why do you think three grown men are whispering and tiptoeing around?”

  Mercy smothered a smile. “He isn’t old enough to be completely weaned.” She paused a moment and decided to tease him. “Spotty. You should name him Spotty.”

  “There’s no need to name something when it’s not staying.”

  “Hey, Rob,” Christopher’s subtle-as-an-ox whisper drifted out to them. “I’ve never been happier that you’re the doctor.”

  “Why?”

  “I just read something.” Chris stuck his head out the door. “You can operate and take out the stink glands. Yep. You’re the doc.” Just as quickly, Chris disappeared again.

  “There’s no need to be hasty,” the doctor said.

  Mercy grimaced. “Actually, after four weeks, they start to practice spraying. By six or eight weeks—”

  “We’re not keeping it around that long!”

  “If the mother took him out at night, he’s about six weeks.”

  Looking thoroughly disgruntled, the doctor announced, “His mother will come get him tonight.”

  Suddenly the humor of the situation evaporated. Mercy averted her gaze. “Just because you want something does not make it happen.”

  Dr. Gregor sat on the wooden plank veranda beside her. “ ’Tis a harsh truth you just spoke.”

  Mercy tried to rise, but he stopped her. “Dinna run, lass. You needn’t speak a word a-tall. I plan to do a bit of talking.” For good measure, he scooped a kitten from the box and tucked it into her hands.

  “I have chores to do at home.”

  “A woman’s work is ne’er done. Or so my ma always said, God rest her soul.” The corners of his bright blue eyes crinkled. “I canna be certain whether she’s finally resting in heaven, or if she’s still bustling about with a broom, trying to make the streets of gold gleam brighter.”

  The image coaxed a twitch of a smile from her.

  “I oughtn’t cast stones. My brothers taunt me about my tidy ways.”

  “Your patients would develop infections if you were slovenly.”

  He inclined his head as an acknowledgment. “Aye. But I also remind them cleanliness is next to godliness.” He glanced over his shoulder, then whispered, “Betwixt thee and me, ’tisna always the case. Times when my soul’s been the most troubled, I’ve tried to busy my hands so as to keep from thinking or praying.”

  Her breath caught.

  “My da—he passed on to Jesus just a day before we reached America.”

  “I—I’m sorry.”

  “I still grieve for him, but ’tis only my selfishness that causes me to. He was ailing for a long while, and now he’s whole once again and in heaven. A mining accident took his arm several years back—†twas the guilt money they settled on him that paid for my medical training. He claimed God took a bad situation and used it for good.”

  Anger flashed through her. He’d better not tell me it’s all for the good that I’m with child and Otto has abandoned me.

  Unaware of her reaction, the doctor kept talking. “But ’twasna until his last hour that Da pointed out something that was right before me for years. I cared for Da—leastways, for the needs of his ailing body. But Duncan—he’s a man with a knack for wrapping quiet comf
ort like a blanket about others whose hearts and souls are aching. Chris—well, he manages to scowl others into behaving so peace is maintained.”

  Mercy concentrated on tracing the soft stripes in the kitten’s fur. The doctor was right: the Gregor men were vastly different in their strengths and personalities.

  “None of us is good at everything. We have strengths and weaknesses. God created us that way so we’d rely on Him and on our brothers and sisters.” He reached over, gently stroked the kitten, and said in a somber tone, “You’re a fine woman, Mercy Stein. Aye, you are—but you’re going to have to lean on God and others to help you through all that lies ahead.”

  She started to tremble. “I must leave now.”

  He took the kitten and gently put it with its littermates. “I’ll walk you out.”

  It would be rude to refuse his assistance rising from the veranda. Once she was up, Mercy snatched back her hand. Her plan was to dash down the steps and go around to the front, but the doctor stopped her.

  “We obviously have a mama skunk close-by. Go back through to the front.” As she started through the doorway, he added, “Is there anything I should put out to entice that mother to come get the kit?”

  Relief flooded her. She could salvage her pride by leaving on a better note. “What did you have out last night?”

  Chris must have overheard her, because he started to chortle.

  Mercy gave the doctor a questioning look.

  His neck and ears went red. “Leftovers.”

  “Dinna believe him.” Chris served his brother a wallop on the back that would have felled a smaller man. “Rob tried to bake beans. I’ve chewed on softer bullets.”

  It’s my fault. I was rattled yesterday and didn’t send food home with them. She stared at the far wall and said, “Eggs. Skunks like eggs.”

  “How many?”

  “I’d suppose you have only one female and her litter of kits.”

  Doc chuckled. “One’s more than enough. I meant, how many eggs should I put out? Half a dozen?”

  “One or two.”

  He looked uncertain. “Fried?”

  “Raw.” She hastily added, “Still in the shell.”

  Christopher seemed to find the whole exchange vastly amusing. Until today, he’d always been so stern. Discovering it was nothing more than bluster made her bold. Mercy walked toward freedom and called back over her shoulder, “Christopher Gregor, you owe me for helping you out. It’s going to cost you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Ja.” She turned to the doctor. “I count on you to make sure he pays this debt.”

  “You just name it,” Doc said.

  “I can hardly wait.” Christopher looked too smug.

  She gave the doctor’s brother the same look she used on Peter when he misbehaved. “Gingerbread.”

  “Uh…I’m not any better at cooking than my brothers.”

  The doctor tried to smother his laughter with a cough.

  Mercy cast him a quick glance, then mused, “But you are good at building things?”

  “That’s a fact.” All of a sudden, Christopher’s face contorted. “Not my house!”

  “Our house,” the doctor corrected. “Miss Stein, what will satisfy the debt?”

  “I’m a fair woman.” She ignored Chris’s rude snort and continued. “The fan-styled inset at the apex of the eaves. And if the mother returns and takes away the kit, whichever is cheaper: a spindled veranda or scalloped clapboards for part of the building.”

  “If the skunk is gone, you’ll have both, and we’ll be coming out better on the bargain.”

  “You’re demented.” Chris shook his head. “Any sane person would want a skunk as far away as possible, and you’re trying to get it to come up on the porch!”

  “You suggested I bring a skunk into my office and perform surgery on it!”

  Mercy left, surprised she was still smiling at the Gregor brothers’ antics. But she’d ridden no more than five feet before it happened again. Women gave her pitying glances and turned away. The tiny bit of happiness she’d had withered, and misery swamped her.

  Chapter 8

  No gingerbread. Not a stick.” Chris stomped into the surgery and half bellowed, “Did you hear me?”

  “Half of Texas heard you.” Rob calmly placed a bottle of arnica on the shelf and shut the door to his pharmaceutical cabinet. “I take it we still have the skunk?”

  “No, we dinna. You now have two!” Chris glowered at him. “I’m working at the farm today. You and Duncan can find a way to rid us of those beasts.”

  Rob stood chest-to-chest with his brother and glared at him. “You’re not going.”

  “And why not?”

  “You’ll bellow at the lass. She canna take it. I’ll send off the telegram to order the house, and you can start the foundation.”

  “I can’t yet. Connant insists we have a cellar to hide in when there’s a storm. He hounded me until I relented and said I’d dig it.” Chris looked exasperated. “I’m too busy to worry about cowering from a gust of wind.”

  “Last day of last month, Bell and Falls counties lost ten men to tornadoes. Connant has yet to steer us wrong about America.”

  “Exaggeration. It has to be. These Texans pride themselves in telling tall tales. Connant’s always had a talent for stretching the thinnest thread of truth into a yarn. He’s warmed up to the Texan tradition. Every time he mentions a tornado, it gets more powerful. He started with telling me about the hail that’s the size of a fist. Then he had flying cows. At last telling, brick houses were torn to bits.”

  “You gave your word; you’ll dig the shelter.”

  Rolling up his sleeves, Chris muttered, “Hot as it’s getting, I’ll probably be striking Lucifer with the shovel—and most likely within the first few inches.”

  “Now look who’s spouting Texas-sized tales!” Rob folded a paper up and tucked it into the pocket of his vest. Miserably hot as the summer had proven to be, he felt a spurt of thanks that the men didn’t feel it necessary to wear a coat and hat.

  “It’s a crying shame Connant wasn’t stretching the truth when he told us it gets hotter than the hinges to Hades in the summer.”

  “Speaking of the devil’s domain…” Rob stared at his eldest brother. “I’ve waited for you to tell the truth about those trips to Thurber.”

  Chris shrugged. “I haven’t lied.”

  “You’ve not been forthcoming with the real reason you went, either.” Rob knew Chris had spent time in the mines. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize the cough?”

  Chris didn’t look in the least bit unsettled or repentant. “Don’t fault me for doing my trade.”

  “We’re relying on your talents with construction. It’s time to build the house. You’re getting irritated about me getting called out in the wee small hours, and Duncan’s snoring is driving me to distraction.”

  “Duncan’s busy with all manner of leatherwork, and your practice is booming.”

  Rob knew he had to tread lightly. Chris was a proud man. “Aye. I canna deny either of those statements. But we’d have to pay dearly for anyone else to do the construction. We’re relying on your skill.”

  “I haven’t done a scrap of work on it yet.”

  Rob nodded. “And glad I am that you haven’t. You were where you were most needed. The Steins would be in sorry shape had you not worked their land.”

  The tension in Chris’s jaw eased only slightly.

  “It’s not just the farming you do that’s vital. You’ve seen how skittish Mercy is.” He saw Chris’s eyes flare. “Having a strong man there lends her a sense of safety.”

  Chris grunted.

  Rob knew he’d succeeded in making his point. With Chris, it was better to back off so he felt he’d made the decision. “You’re so big and ugly, there isna man nor dog that’d tangle with you.”

  “I’d tell you to look in the mirror, but you’d break it.” Chris stared out the window. “I’m not done in Thu
rber. I’m going back for two more days.”

  Rob glowered.

  “It’s lignite. They’re opening shafts four and five, and some idiot set up shoring in them that’s got exposed nails. You use your knowledge to save lives. This time, I’m using mine. One spark and the whole thing would burn for months.”

  “Which is why I don’t want you down there at all.” The railroad desperately needed the soft coal, but Rob didn’t want his brother to continue mining. Mining ruined a man’s lungs, if it didn’t claim life or limb first. “You’re done with that trade.”

  “In case you didn’t notice, I didn’t ask what you thought.”

  “We pledged Da we’d stay together.”

  “I’m still in Texas!”

  “Not good enough,” Rob shot back.

  Chris banged his fist against the back of a chair. “I’m not about to concede to your whims. Not after you decided our house needs to have more frills than an Easter bonnet.”

  “Sore over that, are you?”

  “No.” The corner of Chris’s mouth kicked up. “Any gingerbread’s going to go on Duncan’s workshop, and I’ll pound you into the ground if you warn him.”

  “You haven’t succeeded in distracting me. I still expect you to put mining behind you after these last two days of consulting.”

  “You haven’t distracted me, either. Duncan gets any of the silly frills.”

  Rob nodded. “We have a deal.”

  “You’ve wasted half the morning. I have a stupid basement to dig in the heat of the day now that you’re done clucking like a hen.”

  Rob grabbed his medical satchel and a slip of paper. He’d already composed the order for the house—including all of the “standard” features, which included a plethora of the frills Chris was grousing about. In addition to the house, Rob had estimated enough boards to construct the partitions in the downstairs to create the washroom and Duncan’s workshop. He grinned to himself. Chris agreed to the bargain that Duncan got all of the gingerbread—but Chris didn’t consider one important fact: Duncan could put the gingerbread wherever he wanted to.

  “Grossvater is in the cornfield.” Mercy pinned Peter’s shirt to the clothesline.