Prairie Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “Does that mean I can get up soon?” Josh half pleaded.

  “Now don’t go undoing everything. You must wait awhile longer yet.” Doc patted his shoulders. “You just lay still and enjoy the attention of a pretty young lass.”

  “I’ve been doing that, Doc.”

  Josh’s gaze met Dora’s. At his teasing grin, heat flooded up her neck and she turned away.

  Doc stood. “Josh, Dora’s going home to get a good night’s sleep, but I’ll leave you with a cord that rings a bell in my living quarters. Should you have need of anything, just give it a yank.” He turned to Dora. “I’ll take the tray to the kitchen. You go on home now, lass.”

  Dora hesitated.

  “Aw, Doc,” Josh fussed. “You tell me to enjoy her company and then you send her home.”

  “I know, laddie. But she needs her rest.” He shot a stern look in Dora’s direction, but his voice was gentle as he said again, “You go on home. We’ll see you in the morning.”

  She bid them both good night and left the office. As she stepped into her house, she knew Doc had been wise in sending her home. She was bone weary. She made a pot of tea then sank into a big armchair and let her head fall back. Had only two days passed since Josh had been carried into the clinic half-alive? It seemed as if she’d known him so much longer. Pushing to her feet, she decided she was more tired than hungry. She headed for bed, blaming her weariness for these thoughts that strayed down useless rabbit trails.

  Doc was downing a cup of coffee when she hurried in the side door the next morning.

  “Mrs. Mac is still sleeping. Josh is restless and bored. Do your best to keep him quiet.” He took another swig of coffee. “He can have soft foods today.” He was quiet for a moment. “And let him feed himself. All of his moving around yesterday appears to have done him no harm.”

  Dora met his flashing gaze. She should have known that they hadn’t fooled him.

  He set the cup down and grabbed his bag. “I’m off to visit Mrs. Smith. Have a good day.” With no further ado, he was gone.

  Humming, Dora quickly cleaned up Doc’s breakfast and cooked some soft porridge for Josh. She set a place for Mrs. Mac, covering it with a clean towel. Still humming, she pushed open the sickroom door.

  “I thought you’d never come back.”

  She smiled. “I’ve got your breakfast.”

  “I’m starving.”

  “Doc said you could have some real food today.” She set up the bed table.

  Josh looked at her suspiciously. “I’ll bet.”

  “Really.” She glanced at the tray as she set it before him. “Well almost. And Doc says you can feed yourself. Says you didn’t do any damage yesterday with your moving about.”

  He grinned. “Wily old coyote.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his spoon and, within minutes, polished off everything she’d prepared.

  After she removed the tray, she set a basin of water before him. “Why don’t you wash up a bit?”

  Giving him some privacy, she took the dishes to the kitchen and plunged them into hot water. Her hands idly swirled the suds as she stared out the window humming.

  He was done when she returned, and she tidied the room.

  “How long before Doc lets me up?”

  She could feel his barely contained restlessness and hated to answer. “Probably ten days.”

  “Ten days.” He closed his eyes.

  “Perhaps he’ll let you sit up in bed in two or three days.”

  He turned his tortured gaze toward her and whispered hoarsely, “I had hoped to be at my destination by now. Ten days! How can I delay that long?”

  She bit her bottom lip. It was going to take a great deal of patience on his part to remain immobile as long as Doc wanted. She would do her best to help. Perhaps she could turn his attention to other things. “What made you take up the life of a cowboy?”

  He took a deep breath, and she knew he was trying valiantly to deal with his disappointment. “Horses, I guess. I wanted to be outside riding horses, not bent over machinery, never seeing the sun except on the way to and from the mill.” He smiled, and the tautness in her nerves unwound. “I wanted to see the sun cross the sky, breathe air off the damp soil, feel the wind in my face. I wanted the birds to be the song I heard while I worked, not the grind of millstones. I wanted to see the flowers as God created them, not the flour ground by man.”

  She laughed.

  He continued. “Never mind God’s goodness in providing the grain.” He locked his fingers together under his head, his elbows wide, and grinned at her. “Guess that tells you more than you wanted to know.”

  Dora had stopped to watch the play of wonder and awe in his expression. Now she quickly bent her head and gave the basin another swipe with the towel. “Not at all.” The way he talked made her yearn to see and feel things like he did, with open eagerness. He had accused her of thinking bad was good, which she did not. But neither did she embrace the beauties of life with such trust. She couldn’t. She’d learned the hard way to plan her path, testing each step before she took it. She wanted to see where life was leading. She needed some control over the direction.

  Trusting God meant following carefully the way marked before her, not throwing herself into riotous enjoyment without any regard for the future. No. That wasn’t the way for her. She couldn’t imagine it being the sensible way for anyone.

  She was suddenly aware of his scrutiny and realized she had been quiet for several minutes. Gathering up her thoughts and containing them, she asked, “Didn’t your folks mind?”

  He nodded. “They minded me going. They didn’t mind what I was doing.”

  “Tell me more about your family.”

  “We’re big and noisy, but I think we’re a nice family. How about yours?”

  Rather than answer, Dora asked, “You said something about a mill?”

  “Yes. My dad and Uncle James own the mill at Morgan’s Creek. It’s a steady business, but there’s not enough income to support us all, even though Uncle James and Aunt Martha have no children.” He shrugged. “That’s why I was glad when Andy made it plain that he liked working in the mill. I didn’t.”

  “I remember.” She grinned. “You wanted to see the sky and taste the dust and smell the ground after a herd of cows had passed.”

  He laughed then groaned and pressed his hands to his side. “You knew that would hurt, didn’t you?”

  She tightened her lips. “I didn’t know you’d laugh.” But she knew her eyes gave her away.

  “Right. And I don’t know what side of a horse to mount.”

  She could no longer hide the mirth bubbling inside her, so she turned away.

  “Think it’s funny, do you?”

  She sobered and turned to face him. “Of course not.” Laughing at someone’s pain would be cruel. She would never do such a thing. But there was no stopping her wide smile.

  An answering gleam shone from his eyes—eyes that held her own in a steady gaze. Her heart danced to a song in her head.

  “You never did tell me about your family.”

  She blinked and pulled back, shaken by how quickly her thoughts had spun out of control. “No, I didn’t.” Pursing her lips, she turned away. Hands wringing, she sought some task to disguise her discomfort. The first thing she saw was the window. Three quick steps took her to stare out at the quiet street, her hands pleating and unpleating the curtains.

  “Well?” Although quiet, his voice prodded her. She crushed the pleats in her hands then shrugged and turned.

  “There’s not much to tell.” At least, not much she cared to tell. “There are four children. Two boys and two girls. I’m the oldest girl. My folks have a homestead twenty miles from town.”

  At the word homestead, Josh practically jerked upright. “What’s it like? The homestead? How long has your father been there?”

  Dora took a deep breath as the questions tumbled out of Josh’s mouth. She had no desire to talk about it, but she guesse
d Josh would plague her now that he knew that much.

  “They have a tough life.” Dora intended to say no more. “I can’t talk now. Doc will have my hide if I don’t have the office and waiting room cleaned in time for his patients.”

  She crossed to the door then paused. She had briefly forgotten that Josh was also her patient. His care came before her own needs and desires. “Is there anything I can do for you before I go?”

  Josh groaned behind her, and Dora jerked around. Had he pulled something? But he stared up at the ceiling, his arms crossed over his chest. “I need to be out of here.” He raised one hand in protest and grinned. “Don’t say it. I already know. Lie quiet. Be patient.” He groaned again. “I never realized how hard it is to do nothing.” He made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go. I’ll be all right.”

  Her duties called, but Dora hesitated to leave. She wanted to ease Josh’s suffering during his stay. “Are you sure?” I would love to talk with him all day—if only he wouldn’t ask me any more questions about my family.

  He nodded.

  She didn’t hum as she tidied the rooms and prepared them for office hours. Instead, her thoughts circled round and round. It had been four years since she had escaped the homestead. Surely long enough to be able to think about the past without her insides getting brittle. Yet, just an innocent question or two turned her into a quivering mess. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and moaned.

  Grabbing the wet cloth, she scrubbed the examining table. Her pounding thoughts kept time with her frantic efforts. There had to be a way of putting aside her memories.

  Prayer. That was the answer. She had prayed to be rescued from that situation, and God had wonderfully provided her with this chance. She would never cease to thank Him for it. Her thoughts slowed and she smiled. When Josh asked again about the homestead—and she was certain he would—she would tell him about life in town.

  She glanced at the clock and gasped. Lunch! Rushing to the kitchen, she barely had time to prepare the chicken noodle soup that she had planned yesterday and take Josh a bowlful before Doc was calling her to the office. His first patients had arrived early.

  They were rushed all afternoon. Then she hurried to make supper.

  “You’ve had a busy day,” Josh said as she carried in his tray. He waited as she set his meal on the table. “I heard an awful commotion one time.”

  “That was probably when Mrs. Baker came in with her brood of kids.” Besides his Bible and the book he had yesterday, a child’s storybook lay on the bed. Little

  Sam had left the book behind last winter after his recovery from pneumonia. She had planned to return it when she saw his family again. She laughed. “Found some good reading, did you?”

  Josh grimaced. “It was the best I could do.” He shook his head. “I’m so bored.”

  “And this helped?” She opened the pages. “‘See Dick run. Run, Dick, run.’” He cradled one arm under his head and looked down his nose at her.

  “It made a very interesting study.”

  “I’ll bet.” She chortled. “And exactly what did you learn from this ‘interesting study’?”

  He turned to face her, his eyes dark and unreadable. The laughter died in her throat. Her chest tightened. “I learned how boring recovery can be.” His sigh lifted the bedcovers momentarily. Something ticked inside Dora’s head, making it impossible for her to speak.

  “Boring, boring, boring.” Then he grinned. “But now that you’re here, I feel much better.”

  She blinked. It was nice to be appreciated. Josh made it seem even more special by his acknowledgment. “I’ll find you some more mature books,” she promised. “Unless you prefer this age level.”

  He grinned. “It’s better than nothing. Almost.”

  “Doc has a collection of books, and I have some as well. You are certainly welcome to borrow them.”

  Just then Doc entered and stared at the books on the bed. “I trust that you’ve been obeying orders, young man.”

  Josh held up his hands. “Best I can, Doc.”

  Doc waited until Josh finished his meal and Dora removed the tray before he checked the wounds. “You’re doing fine.” He stood. “Dora, ye go on home, and remember tomorrow’s the Sabbath. This young man will manage without nursing care tomorrow. If he needs anything, I’ll see to it.”

  Dora had forgotten what day it was. She turned a startled gaze to Josh and caught the same protesting thought in his eyes. “But—“

  “I mean it, Dora. Go home and enjoy a day of rest.”

  There was no arguing with Doc when he got that stubborn look on his face, so she nodded. “I’ll just get him a few of your books to read, if that’s all right.”

  Doc nodded. “Aye. That will help him rest.”

  She ducked into the office and, skipping the medical texts, chose four adventure books. Doc had a fondness for tales of the north. She had skimmed through several and knew they were full of encounters with wild animals and accounts of fighting the elements, as well as equally unkind residents. These were not the kind of stories she enjoyed, but perhaps Josh would. She delivered the books to his room.

  Doc was still there, glowering. She hid a grin. Doc was determined to make sure that his orders were obeyed to the letter.

  As she handed the books to Josh, he crooked his finger, indicating she should bend close. When she did, he barely whispered loud enough for her to hear. “Better hurry home. Doc looks like he’d as soon fry an egg on my forehead as have you miss your day of rest.”

  She choked back a chuckle and straightened slowly, giving herself time to compose her expression.

  “I’ll be going home now, Doc,” she said in her sweetest, most compliant voice. “Say good night to Mrs. Mac for me.”

  Josh’s chuckles followed Dora out of the room. Just before the door closed, she heard Doc growl, “Young whippersnapper.” But she didn’t know if his words were aimed at her or Josh.

  Dora remained in the pew for several minutes following the service, mulling over the points of the sermon. Pastor Luke Daley’s favorite topics were faith, love, and forgiveness, and today he had chosen to preach about faith. As usual, his sermon was rich with illustrations and his message clear. Today he had shown how one’s choices in daily life revealed the depths of personal faith.

  “It takes faith in God’s provision,” he had said, “to venture into the unknown.”

  Dora had agreed with him until he used homesteaders as an example of that type of faith. Perhaps, she conceded, for some folks, homesteading was a step of faith. Yet, others were drawn, not by faith, but by an illusion. Of this she was certain.

  Dismissing her lingering thoughts, she joined the others as they filed out. Mary, Pastor Luke’s wife and Dora’s best friend, waited for her at the bottom of the steps.

  “Stay until I’ve spoken to the rest; then we’ll talk,” Mary whispered as they hugged.

  Dora nodded and stepped aside as Mary greeted each of the departing parishioners.

  “You’ll come for lunch, I hope,” Mary said as she joined Dora.

  “I was hoping you’d ask.” It was a Sunday tradition for them. Even if Mary had invited others, as she often did, Dora was always included.

  But today Dora was the only guest. They had barely sat down when Mary leaned toward Dora. “I hear you have a patient.”

  Dora nodded. “A cowboy who was hurt on the trail.”

  Mary lifted one eyebrow. “A young cowboy?”

  Dora kept her face expressionless, knowing that Mary would read a hundred meanings into anything she imagined she saw. “A handsome young man.” Let her guess what that meant.

  Mary’s mouth made a perfect O.

  Luke laughed. “She’s setting you up, dearest,” he warned.

  Mary wrinkled her nose at him. “I know that. But I don’t care.” She turned back to Dora. “How young? How handsome?”

  Dora pretended to give her questions a lot of thought. “Let’s see.” She presse
d her finger to her lips. “He said he left home ten years ago. I guess that would make him at least twenty-six. Maybe a few years older.”

  Mary sighed and leaned back. “Just right for you.”

  “Why, I’m only twenty-two.” Dora did her best to sound shocked.

  Mary tsked. “Much too old to be without a husband. Or at least a beau.”

  “Indeed? Well, I have news for you. I’m quite happy without a man in my life. And much too busy to need one.”

  “Of course.” But Dora knew Mary wasn’t agreeing. “And you admit he’s handsome?”

  “Oh yes.” Dora closed her eyes, pretending to be overcome. “Dark curly hair and eyes as warm as—” She sighed rather than finish her sentence.

  “Why I declare. I believe you’re already half in love with him.” Mary practically gloated.

  Dora instantly grew serious. “Sorry to disappoint you, but he’s headed west to get himself a homestead. Not my kind of man.” And she took a mouthful of roast beef.

  Luke laughed. “Told you, Mary.”

  “Some day she’ll fall,” Mary promised.

  “I believe you’re right, dearest,” he said, turning to speak to Dora. “Someday I expect you’ll make the astonishing discovery that some things are worth the risk- taking. Remember, security is not found in a place, position, or possessions, or even in security itself—but in God.”

  Stung by his assessment of her, Dora stared at him. “Do you really think I’m trusting in something other than God?”

  Mary rushed to her defense. “I’m sure he didn’t mean that, did you dear?”

  “No, of course I didn’t. I’ve seen your faith. But I believe God stretches us all lest we grow complacent.” He pushed his chair back. “Now if you girls will excuse me, I am going to my office.”

  After he left, the two young women were quiet a moment.

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean to criticize you, Dora.” Mary kept her face toward her plate.

  Dora touched her friend’s arm. “I don’t feel like he was.” But a shiver flickered across her neck. He had warned of change, and she didn’t welcome the thought.