by Amanda Cabot
Elizabeth looked up, startled by the suggestion. “I never considered that.”
“I’m glad.” His smile warmed her more than the July sun. “I wouldn’t want to lose my neighbor.” He paused. “And my friend.”
Pleasure welled up inside Elizabeth, threatening to overflow. It was amazing how good it felt to be with Jason. When they reached the others, while Jason shook Harrison’s hand and greeted Rose, Elizabeth told Gwen what she’d done.
Gwen’s smile was instantaneous. “What a good idea. Rose seems to like him.” She gestured with her head.
Elizabeth turned in the direction Gwen had indicated and saw Jason kneeling next to Rose. He whispered something in her ear, and when she giggled her assent, he lifted her into his arms and placed her on his shoulders.
“Horsey!” Rose cried, tugging at imaginary reins. “Horsey.”
Though Elizabeth smiled, she heard Harrison snort and saw that he was glaring at Jason’s back. “I wonder what’s bothering him.”
Gwen shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how that man’s mind works. One day he’s friendly, the next he’s aloof.” She gave Elizabeth a crooked smile. “And they call us flighty. Men are worse. I tell you, Elizabeth, sometimes I think we’d be better off without them.”
She was beautiful. Jason took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden racing of his pulse. It was ridiculous. He was a grown man, not a schoolboy. This was not the first time he’d seen a beautiful woman. And it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d seen Elizabeth. But the sight of her descending the steps took his breath away. Perhaps it was the sky blue dress she was wearing and the knowledge that it was the same shade as her eyes. Perhaps it was the way the skirt draped, hinting at slender legs and ankles. Perhaps it was nothing more than the way the sun highlighted her hair, making it appear as if she had a halo. Jason didn’t know the cause. All he knew was the effect. He was standing beside his carriage, feeling as awkward as a boy sparking his first girl.
“I could have walked,” Elizabeth said when she’d arranged her skirts on the seat. “It’s less than four blocks.”
But then he wouldn’t have had the pleasure of holding her hand as he helped her into the carriage. Jason shook his head. “Richard would have had me drummed out of town. When he invited me, he insisted I accompany you.”
It hadn’t taken much persuasion. At the time Richard had issued the invitation to the Cheyenne Club’s annual reception, Jason had found it ironic that he, whose role in exonerating Adam Bennett had caused the city’s residents to reconsider his standing as an attorney, was being asked to escort the woman who’d yet to be accepted as a physician. They’d be two pariahs, he’d thought. But after the kindness she’d showered on him during the Independence Day parade and afterwards, when she’d treated him like part of her family, Jason realized he didn’t care what others thought. He enjoyed Elizabeth’s company and looked forward to their time together.
“I thank you, and so does Harrison. He was so miffed that Gwen wasn’t invited that he announced he wouldn’t darken the doors of the Cheyenne Club if he were paid to go. But I know that if you hadn’t offered to drive me, he would have swallowed his pride and accepted the invitation, just so I’d have an escort.”
Elizabeth leaned forward slightly as they approached the club that many in the city considered to be the epitome of the social ladder. Situated on the northwest corner of 17th Street and Warren Avenue, it was an imposing building, and its members included the wealthiest and most prominent citizens of not only Cheyenne itself but the surrounding territory.
With its mansard roof, wraparound porch, and the large central tower that loomed over 17th Street, the Cheyenne Club was one of the dominant buildings in this part of the city. Elizabeth had probably walked by it numerous times as she’d explored her new home, but Jason was certain she had never seen it looking like this. The porches were draped with large U.S. flags, creating a sheltered verandah, and the sparkle of incandescent lights beckoned visitors to stroll around the perimeter of the club for a few minutes before they entered the building itself.
“I’m curious to see the inside,” Elizabeth admitted as they took their second turn around the verandah, greeting and being greeted by members and other guests. “Charlotte told me so many stories about it.”
One more circuit, and then he’d take her indoors. Though he wouldn’t tell her, Jason didn’t share Elizabeth’s enthusiasm for the interior. Oh, it was an impressive building all right. But once they were inside, there would be no reason for her to keep her hand on his arm. Most likely, they’d be separated, at least until dinner was served. No matter how elegant the interior, without Elizabeth at his side, it would lose its luster.
“Charlotte probably told you that this is the most exclusive place in the city,” Jason said as they rounded the corner. “Even though many of its members have fallen on hard times, the annual reception is the biggest social event of the summer.”
Elizabeth shot him a mischievous smile. “Even bigger than our Independence Day picnic?”
Jason returned the smile as memories of the second meal they’d shared rushed back, flooding him with pleasure. “Bigger, but not necessarily better.” The backyard of Elizabeth’s home had been decorated with a single flag, not the dozens that lined the club’s verandah, and the food had been simple picnic fare: fried chicken legs, biscuits with strawberry preserves, dried apple pie. But, though less ostentatious, Jason knew that the picnic he had shared with her would prove to be far more memorable than tonight’s banquet.
She chuckled. “Spoken like a lawyer. You choose your words carefully.”
“That’s true. I do. So consider this.” He lowered his voice so that he was practically whispering. “I’d rather be back in your yard.”
Her chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh.
When they entered the building itself, Jason’s concern that he and Elizabeth would be separated was realized. Once Miriam and Richard greeted them, two of Jason’s most important clients approached him, asking to speak with him. He turned to Elizabeth, hoping she understood that he couldn’t offend the men. “I have a couple things to attend to.”
She nodded. “Don’t worry. I can keep myself occupied until dinner is served.”
The conversation with his clients took longer than he’d expected, and it was a full half hour later when Jason reentered the hallway and heard the booming voice.
“I tell you, the world is changing and not for the better.”
Jason frowned as he recognized the speaker. Doc Worland. What was the old windbag talking about now? Jason moved to the doorway and looked around. There, on the opposite side of the room, surrounded by a group of men, Doc Worland was holding court. He continued to speak, his words slightly slurred as if he’d imbibed a bit too much whiskey. “What kind of world is it where women think they can be doctors?” he demanded. “I tell you, they don’t have what it takes.”
Though the parlor had been filled with conversation, a sudden silence greeted the doctor’s words. Jason heard the sound of heels tapping on the floor. Feminine heels. He entered the parlor and watched as Elizabeth approached the older doctor. The crowd parted, much as Jason imagined the Red Sea had parted, allowing her to face her adversary.
“That’s a very provocative assertion you’ve made, Dr. Worland.” Elizabeth’s voice was cool but clear enough to be heard in every corner of the room. “Would you mind explaining why you believe that to be true?”
“Look, missy. I don’t have to answer to you or anyone.” Doc waved a finger under her nose. If it was supposed to intimidate her, it didn’t succeed. If anything, it caused Elizabeth to stiffen her spine. That and the heels on her shoes brought her to almost the same height as Doc.
“So what you alleged before, that women don’t have—I believe your term was ‘what it takes’—is simply your opinion and not a proven fact.”
The man’s face flushed, although whether with anger or the e
ffects of whiskey, Jason wasn’t certain. “I didn’t say that. Everyone knows it’s true.”
“Not everyone,” Elizabeth retorted, her voice as sweet as the strawberry preserves she’d served three days ago. “I don’t know that to be a fact. Please explain it to me.”
Guests moved closer, circling the two physicians like vultures over a carcass.
“All right, missy. You asked for it.” Doc thrust his shoulders back, as if trying to increase his height. “Women aren’t smart enough and they’re not strong enough to be doctors.”
Jason bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as he remembered his first encounter with Elizabeth. He’d been as belligerent as Doc, but it hadn’t stopped Elizabeth from pointing out the errors in his logic. There was no reason to think she’d be kinder to Doc merely because he was her elder.
“Those are interesting claims, but I’m afraid they’re not based on facts.” When Doc glared at her, Elizabeth continued. “Let’s start with intelligence. Would you agree that if a man were accepted at one of the country’s most illustrious medical schools, that would be proof of his intellect?”
“Of course.” When Doc began to relax, Jason felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. Doc didn’t know Elizabeth or he would have realized she was only beginning.
“Did you know that a woman needs to be in the top 10 percent of all applicants just to be accepted in the same school?” she demanded. “Wouldn’t that seem to indicate that a woman has to be smarter than 90 percent of her male colleagues?”
His face reddening, Doc ran a hand through his hair. “You’re trying to trick me.”
“No, Doctor, I’m not.” Though he was visibly angry, Elizabeth kept her voice as cool as a January morning. “I simply wanted to demonstrate the fallacy of your thinking.”
“You think you’re smart,” he sputtered.
“I don’t think I’m smart, Doctor Worland. I know I am. Shall I tell you how I know that? You told me I was. You said that being admitted to medical school was proof of a person’s intelligence. I was admitted to medical school. Furthermore, I graduated.” She paused for a second, letting her words echo throughout the room before she gave him a sweet smile. “Did you?”
The blood drained from Doc’s face, and for a second Jason wondered if he’d respond. Though he’d never questioned the doctor’s credentials, judging from Elizabeth’s question and Doc’s reaction, she knew more about the man than most of his patients.
“Missy, I’ll have you know that I served in the Army during the War Between the States.”
“Yes, you did,” she said, her expression remaining calm, though Jason had seen her flinch when the older doctor had called her missy. “I admire you for your service, but you didn’t answer my question. Did you or did you not complete medical school?”
The blood that had fled Doc’s face returned, flushing his cheeks, while a vein in his forehead began to throb. “I know more than you’ll ever learn,” he shouted. “That’s all that matters.”
“Perhaps it is,” she conceded, “but if my life were at stake, I would like to know that my doctor had the benefit of expert training.”
“The war was all the training I needed. Everyone knows I’m the best doctor in Cheyenne.”
Doc stormed from the room, heading for the bar that had been set up in the adjoining parlor. In his wake, Jason looked at the guests who remained. Though many of them appeared entertained by the argument, several of them, notably women, wore pensive expressions. Jason didn’t claim to be a mind reader, but he suspected that the women were having second thoughts about Doc. Until tonight, he had been the acknowledged premier physician in the city. Now? Now Jason wasn’t so certain.
The points Elizabeth had made were valid. Even more, they’d been eloquent, and eloquence, Jason knew, was often what convinced people. His law professors had stressed that while it was critical to have the law itself on your side, it was equally important to be able to communicate that law and its implications to jurors. Elizabeth had been both articulate and convincing. Patients might not be lining up outside her office when she opened it tomorrow morning, but he imagined that many of the people who’d been here tonight would think twice before consulting Doc again.
As he made his way to Elizabeth’s side, Jason grinned. How fortunate for him that she hadn’t decided to be an attorney, for if she had, between her clear thinking and her gift for oratory, he had no doubt that she would have given him a run for his money.
8
Rose deserved a treat. Perhaps it was only because the morning had been so boring that the thought kept floating through Elizabeth’s brain. She had cleaned her office, not that it had needed cleaning. She’d organized her books, not that they’d needed organizing. Now she was wearing a groove in the floor, pacing the length of the hall. The only good thing she could say about that was that it kept her blood flowing. But while she’d paced, she’d thought of the little girl who’d been such a good friend to Elizabeth’s nephew. Charlotte had told her how Rose had befriended her son, not seeming to be bothered by the boy’s blindness. She’d also mentioned how much Rose enjoyed sweets and that her favorites were the ones Mr. Ellis sold at his confectionary. Perfect. Elizabeth would get a bit of fresh air, and Rose would have a treat for supper.
After locking the door, Elizabeth headed north on Central, smiling as she realized that this was one of the most beautiful days of the summer. With only the lightest of breezes to stir the air, it was warm, yet the dry heat was refreshing. And there was no doubt that the brilliant blue sky with a few lazy cumulus clouds drifting across it was magnificent. If the poets hadn’t already celebrated the beauty of a Wyoming sky, they should.
Though it was only a block away, Elizabeth had not been inside the Ellis Bakery and Confectionary, but she had heard that the breads and pastries were as renowned as the candies. Perhaps she’d buy a small cake for Jason. Elizabeth knew that he rarely ate at home, claiming that he was the world’s second worst cook. The award for absolute worst went to Mrs. Moran, or so he alleged. It had been little more than a casual comment made the day he’d stopped by to say hello and had found Elizabeth reheating some stew. When his stomach had growled, she had offered to share her lunch with him. It had been one of those times when they’d spoken of a dozen different things, yet only one memory lingered. The more she heard, the more Elizabeth realized that Jason’s childhood had been far different from hers. He might not have faced financial privation as her family had on numerous occasions, but he’d lacked the warm, loving environment that had more than compensated for hand-me-down clothing and watery soups.
Elizabeth doubted that watery soup had ever been part of Jason’s life, and it certainly wasn’t now when he took most of his meals in restaurants. But perhaps even fine restaurant food became ordinary if eaten too often. That must have been the reason he’d seemed to savor the stew she’d shared with him and why Jason claimed he preferred her backyard picnic to the banquet at the Cheyenne Club.
Fried chicken and cold biscuits couldn’t compare to the succulent beef, oyster pudding, and the flaming dessert that the club had provided. That dinner had been delicious, once Elizabeth’s temper had cooled and she’d stopped seething over Dr. Worland’s prejudice. The truth was, his diatribe had been no different from what she’d endured in school, and, unlike her classmates’ taunts, her discussion with Dr. Worland had wrought at least one benefit: a few more women had come to her office. Some of them had been at the club that night. Others said they’d heard what had happened. All had announced that they wanted a doctor who was fully trained. It was a start. Thanks to her new patients and indirectly to Dr. Worland’s hostility, she had enough money to splurge on cakes and candies.
When she reached the corner of 17th Street, Elizabeth paused, waiting for a wagon to pass before she crossed Central. From here she could see her destination. Three wide windows topped with generous transom windows gave it an appearance of elegance, and the steady stream of customers left no d
oubt of its popularity. As she watched, a woman exited the confectionary. Fashionably dressed in a black walking suit and gloves, with a black-trimmed bonnet, the blonde appeared to be a couple inches shorter than Elizabeth. Though her clothing made Elizabeth suspect that she was a widow emerging from deepest mourning, the almost imperial tilt of her head proclaimed her confidence. Perhaps it was that confidence that caused her to stumble. Elizabeth didn’t know. All she knew was that one second the woman was walking, the next she lay crumpled on the boardwalk.
Picking up her skirts, Elizabeth rushed across the street. “Are you all right?”
The woman attempted to rise, then shook her head as her leg gave way. “I’m afraid I twisted my ankle.” Elizabeth noted that although the woman’s grammar was correct, her voice did not have the cultured tone Elizabeth would have expected, given the fine clothing. “It appears that this is not my lucky day,” the woman said.
Elizabeth crouched next to her. Judging from the woman’s inability to put any weight on the ankle, she suspected the injury was more serious than a simple strain or sprain. “Let’s get you to my office, and then we’ll see how lucky or unlucky you are.” A confused expression greeted her words. “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m Elizabeth Harding. Dr. Harding.”
The woman nodded. “That’s right. I heard folks say there was a lady doctor in town.” She attempted to stand again, then grimaced as she sank back onto the boardwalk. “I appreciate your offer, ma’am, but I can’t go to your office. It wouldn’t be proper.”
“Why ever not?” Surely this woman didn’t agree with Dr. Worland that females could not be effective physicians.
The woman’s blue eyes clouded. “I’m Phoebe Simcoe.”
If Elizabeth was expected to recognize the name, she did not. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Simcoe. Now if you’ll try not to put any weight on your injured ankle, I think we can get you to my office.”