Bluebonnet Belle

by Lori Copeland

  “He shouldn’t. I’m a grown woman.”

  “Well—” Dr. Fuller smiled faintly “—apparently he thinks he does need to worry about you, for whatever reason. I’m only suggesting that you try not to worry him overly much.”

  Anger flooded April at the man’s audacity. “Dr. Fuller, you take care of your own business, and I’ll take care of my grandfather—”

  “Your grandfather is my business,” he interrupted. “He’s a patient. I worry about my patients—”

  “Then stick to worrying about Grandpa, and leave me alone.”

  Gray stood up. “I assure you, nothing would suit me better. But remember what I said. At this point I’d rather Riley wasn’t under any undue stress. That includes anxiety about you, and any man you might be involved—”

  “Doctor,” April said, standing also. “Good night!”

  “Good night…but I suggest you and I call a truce.”

  “I wasn’t aware we were engaged in a war.”

  “Neither was I, but since we can’t carry on a conversation without firing a shot, apparently we are.”

  Turning her back to him, she studied the sky. Clouds skittered across the moon, darkening the porch. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Let’s agree to disagree. I believe modern medicine is what people need most—”

  “And I believe the natural way to health is better. Did you know there are herbs that—”

  “Let’s not argue.”

  His smile was charming, and she felt her temper begin to cool. “You’re right. We’re not going to agree, and we do have to live in the same town. A small town at that.”

  He seemed relieved with her acquiescence. “It is a small town.”

  She stepped to the porch railing and leaned against it, watching the moon slide in and out of the clouds. “Why did you come here? I mean, after all, Dallas has so much more to offer a doctor.”

  “I didn’t want that. I like Dignity.”

  “How does your lady friend like Dignity?”

  Gray shrugged.

  “I hear she, ah, helped decorate your living quarters as well as your office.”

  “That’s gotten around town already?”

  “Mmm-hmm. It doesn’t take long in Dignity—one of the negative aspects of living in a small community.”

  Joining her at the railing, he stood for a moment, looking at the sky. “There seems to be an epidemic of fainting going on.”

  “Light-headedness, that sort of thing?”

  Closing his eyes, he smiled as if a little embarrassed. “Yes….”

  Grinning, she rested her head against a post. “Must be something in the water.”

  “Yes, very puzzling. Half the eligible women in town seem to be coming down with it.”

  She met his smile.

  “I don’t suppose there’s going to be a box supper or a bake sale anytime soon?”

  “Not that I know of. Why? Planning to make a bid on someone’s box?”

  “No, planning to contribute. It appears the mothers of Dignity are under the impression that a single man lives on baked goods alone. I’ve got a wagonload of pies going to waste, at least a half-dozen cakes, and I haven’t even bothered to count the tins of cookies.”

  April chuckled at his consternation. When he smiled, his green eyes crinkled at the corners and shone with boyish mischief.

  “There must be something about a medical license hanging on a man’s wall that makes him nearly irresistible.”

  “Speaking of Mrs. Pinkham…”

  April couldn’t help laughing. As much as she hated to admit it, he could be charming when he wanted to be. “I didn’t know we were.”

  “I wanted to. Not too subtle?”

  “Not nearly enough. I warn you, Dr. Fuller, I like Mrs. Pinkham very much, and I believe in what she’s doing.”

  “I would think a woman with your intelligence might have reservations about a product that promises to be a cure-all for women’s ills.”

  April stiffened. “Then you’ve misjudged me.”

  “The compound isn’t proven to be effective. Aren’t you concerned that you will mislead a woman into thinking she can cure something she can’t?”

  “No. I believe women are astute enough about their bodies to know when something is working and when it isn’t. The compound works, Doctor. You and your colleagues refuse to admit it.”

  “The claims are misleading, Miss Truitt.”

  “It’s an alternative, Dr. Fuller. A very good one. If you suffered with painful problems during and after childbirth, you’d be singing the elixir’s praises.”

  “There’s nothing in that elixir that can do what she claims it will.”

  “Then why does it work?”

  “I’m not convinced that it does. Show me solid proof.”

  “I can’t do that. I can only point you to women the compound has helped.”

  He bent closer and whispered, “You’re letting your prejudice toward doctors and men color your objectivity.”

  “You’re thinking like a typical man, Doctor.”

  Leaning even closer, he caught her eyes. “That’s a reasonable assumption, Miss Truitt, since I am a man and you’re acting like a typical woman.”

  “Really now? And exactly what do you mean by that?”

  “Letting your emotions rule your thoughts. You have decided to believe in Mrs. Pinkham and you don’t want to let a few facts get in the way.” His eyes twinkled with good humor. “That’s not a bad thing. The world needs the loving compassion of women to temper the harshness of life.”

  His smile was so engaging that she smiled back in spite of herself. What was there about him that made her so angry she would gladly shoot him where he stood one minute, and the next, have to pray he wasn’t able to see the way he affected her? Suddenly April knew quite clearly what the women of Dignity saw in Dr. Fuller, and it made her wary.

  “Then we agree to disagree?” he asked.

  “Yes. We certainly do,” she retorted, lifting her chin in defiance.

  “Good evening, Miss Truitt. Remember what I said about keeping Riley calm.”

  “I’ll try to do that.”

  With a nod, he stepped off the porch and disappeared around the corner of the house. His unique scent was left hanging lightly in the air.

  Sighing, April rubbed goose bumps that had suddenly cropped up on her arms.

  Oh, yes, Dr. Fuller, she conceded. You are very much a man.

  That’s what bothered her.

  Chapter Eight

  Beulah was dusting the shelves of the pharmacy when April came in the next morning. She was clearly annoyed with someone, and that someone was Dr. Fuller. Her friend turned to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Dr. Fuller, that’s what. The gall of that man.”

  “What’s he done now?” Beulah stuffed her dust rag into the pocket of the large apron she wore to cover her dress while in the store.

  “He was playing checkers with Grandpa again last night.”

  “So? He does that at least three times a week. It’s never bothered you before.”

  “Well, this time he cornered me on the back porch and warned me—warned me, mind you—that I should make sure Grandpa isn’t upset about anything!”

  Beulah frowned. “Warned you? What does that mean?”

  “It means he’s sticking his nose into my business! He told me to make certain that what I do doesn’t upset Grandpa. That includes my association with Mrs. Pinkham, as well as my relationship with Henry.”

  “Dr. Fuller knows about your relationship with Henry?”

  “Not everything, but he saw Henry’s letter lying in my lap.”

  “Well, you know how Riley feels about Mrs. Pinkham, and about Henry.” She flicked her cloth over a row of bottles. “Why all the fuss when the doctor says something about it?”

  “What’s wrong,” April replied, “is that he told me to be careful of my ‘relationships’ so Grandpa wouldn’t be upset.
It’s not his place to tell me what to do.”

  “I suppose he thinks that anything to do with a patient is his concern.”

  April paced the crowded aisle. “Then he’s mistaken. I might have expected you to defend him. You’re like every other woman in town, thinking Gray Fuller walks on water. Well, he doesn’t, and he’d better keep his nose out of my affairs. My ‘relationships’ are none of his business.”

  She took a deep breath to stay her temper. She’d fumed over that man all night, trying to come up with a way to prove to him that Mrs. Pinkham’s elixir was a “wonder cure,” but she’d failed. Nothing she thought of was overwhelmingly conclusive.

  “Have you been getting comments from women you’ve given the elixir to? Are they feeling better?”

  Beulah turned pensive. “Well, some are. I’m not sure how much of it is due to Dr. Fuller’s prescriptions and how much to the elixir. But three of them have specifically mentioned they have more energy.”

  Rubbing her hands together smugly, April grinned. “Good. Now, if I could only get the doctor to try it himself—”

  “Beulah, it’s time to get busy.”

  “Yes, Papa,” Beulah called out to her father, who was settling onto the high stool behind the counter. “His cold is better,” she whispered to April. “He insisted on coming in today even though he’s still feeling poorly.”

  “Maybe you should give him the elixir,” April suggested softly. She laughed at Beulah’s shocked expression. “I’ll talk to you later.” She smothered another laugh. “Good morning, Mr. Ludwig,” she called out as she opened the door.

  “Humph,” Mr. Ludwig grunted, sparing her a brief glance.

  Beulah spent the morning filling prescriptions and advising new mothers on how to treat the first colds of the season. When young Mary Benson left the store, she was toting the obligatory bottle of tonic.

  While Beulah didn’t completely agree with what April was doing, she suspected there was something in the elixir that did make women feel better. Now, if only she could find a way to recommend the elixir to the doctor. If it worked, then perhaps he would rethink his objections.

  Aware that nearly every woman in town was trying to make an impression on Dr. Fuller, she decided she would have to use a practical approach. She didn’t want to make an idiot of herself. Gray Fuller would not be attracted to an idiot—no, wait: there was Francesca.

  The solution came to Beulah that afternoon.

  Gefüllte Klösse. It was a safe assumption Dr. Fuller had never tasted her grandmother’s recipe for this German delicacy. Nor brombeerkuchen, the blackberry cake her father loved. Not sweet like dessert, it went wonderfully with coffee at breakfast. Not one other woman in Dignity could offer the doctor such a wonderful treat, and, while she was plying the good doctor with gefüllte klösse and brombeerkuchen, she would casually mention the elixir.

  Sometimes her brilliance shocked her.

  That afternoon she opened a jar of blackberries and mixed up a batch of dough. That evening she made the desserts for her father, with extra portions for Dr. Fuller.

  The next morning she dressed with care, wrapped the dumplings and cake in a clean cloth and put them in a basket, along with a bottle of the elixir. Then, gathering her courage, she strode quickly down the sidewalk to Dr. Fuller’s office.

  The waiting room was full, and from the assortment of boxes and towel-covered items held securely on laps, few of the women were patients.

  Beulah felt a little foolish carrying her shopping basket, fearing she would be counted among those enamored of the physician. Even if she was, she didn’t stand a chance with someone like him. But if she could get him to dispense the tonic for April, that would be appeasement enough for her hard work.

  Locating a chair in the corner, she perched on the edge, hoping she wouldn’t have to wait long. A young man seated in a corner of the room nodded at her, before shifting his gaze back to the picture hanging on the wall behind her. She hadn’t seen him before, but he was nice looking. Brown hair, round face, kind blue eyes. She studied him a moment, until he glanced at her again, and she quickly looked away. Undoubtedly he was part of the new family that had moved from Galveston last month.

  The examining room door opened and Mrs. Greenwood came out, followed by Dr. Fuller. At once, fully half the women in the office stood up and advanced on him.

  “Doctor—”

  “Dr. Gray—”

  “Dr. Fuller—”

  “Just a moment, please.” He walked to the door with Mrs. Greenwood, bent close to finish his instructions, then gave her a reassuring pat on her shoulder.

  As the door closed, he confronted the sea of anxious faces before him. “Who was next?”

  Chairs scraped noisily as he was set upon as if by a plague of locusts.

  Ten minutes later he was staggering under the weight of pies, cakes and bread fresh from the oven, appearing overwhelmed. Only Beulah and the young gentleman remained seated.

  “Uh, who’s next?” the doctor asked in a strained voice. He still clutched a plate bearing a chocolate cake.

  “He was here first,” Beulah said, nodding toward the quiet young man.

  “I’m here as a representative of Claxton Medical Supplies,” the young man said quickly.

  “Sorry, I buy my supplies from—”

  “I’m aware you may already have an established supplier,” the young man interjected, “but I’d like the opportunity to show you what I have, give you a few prices, and if you like something—or, if not—” he swallowed “—then keep my card in case there is something you need in the future. I’m through here every three weeks.”

  Gray took the card, still balancing baked goods on one arm. “Thank you, Mr. Grimes. I’m busy at the moment, but perhaps next time you’re through town we can talk.”

  “I’d appreciate that. I’ll let you get back to work now. I’ll be back in three weeks.”

  “Thank you.” Gray tucked the card into his mouth as he shifted the chocolate cake to his left hand.

  Mr. Grimes nodded at her, then left the office.

  “Now, Miss Ludwig, what can I do for you?” the doctor muttered.

  Clearing her throat, Beulah got up. “Can I help you with those pies?”

  The consternation on his face turned to relief. “Thanks…just put them in there.” They carried the offerings into his office, and he kicked the door closed behind him. He glanced at her basket.

  She laughed. “Well, it looks like my thoughts aren’t original,” she began. “I do have more than a pie for you, though.” She helped him heap the baked goods on his desk.

  “What is it?”

  “April said you left this on their porch last night.”

  He took the light jacket she offered, smiling at the look of chagrin on his face.

  “It is yours?”

  “Yes, I’m bad about leaving it wherever I go.” He pitched the jacket toward the coat rack, hooking it expertly on a wooden peg.

  “You’re good at that.”

  “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  “Oh, I have something else for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Some of Mrs. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound.”

  He frowned, and she could see he was going to be a hard sell.

  “I know your objections, but I think you will find the tonic useful.” She set the jug on his desk. “You can’t say it doesn’t work when you’ve never used it, now can you?”

  “I don’t prescribe anything I don’t personally believe will help.”

  “And I say you can’t form an opinion without trying it.”

  “You’re a friend of April Truitt’s,” he guessed.

  “Yes. Did she tell you?”

  “No. You’re just alike. You’re suggesting I try the compound?”

  She studied him a moment. “If I tell you something, will you keep it in confidence?”

  “If I can.”

  “I’ve given it to several women as
a tonic only. Three out of four women have said they felt better after trying it.”

  He looked surprised, but not convinced. “Does your father know about this?”

  “No! And if you tell him, he’ll tan my hide.”

  “Well, I appreciate your generosity, but I don’t want the tonic.”

  “The women really do feel better. I can tell by the way they act. Addy Menson is actually singing in the choir again.”

  Gray studied Beulah a moment, amusement lighting his eyes. “You and Miss Truitt are really sold on this elixir, that’s apparent.”

  “It works.”

  “But it doesn’t cure anything.”

  “We’ll never know for certain unless we use the product and study the results. I’m hoping you’re the man who will make women’s lives easier—maybe not cure everything, but make midlife complaints more tolerable.” She nudged the jug closer to him. “Just think about it. All right?”

  Shrugging, Gray walked to the medicine cabinet. “I don’t think so, but you’ve made a sound argument.”

  She thought about not leaving the gefüllte klösse. It was her favorite and if he wasn’t going to cooperate…“Oh, and here.” Taking the baked goods out of her basket, she made a place for them on his desk.

  “Not more desserts,” he muttered.

  “Certainly not.” She straightened, refolding the cloth and putting it back in the basket. “They’re German delicacies.”

  “Oh.” He sat down. “Good day, Miss Ludwig.”

  “Good day, Doctor.”

  When the door closed behind Beulah Ludwig, Gray stuck the bottle of Mrs. Pinkham’s elixir on a shelf behind his office door.

  There was no way he was going to prescribe the elixir to his patients.

  Not ever.

  Henry, Will and Dan returned from Austin on Friday, disgruntled about their trip but still dedicated to the mission.

  “I missed you,” Henry said, drawing April into his arms. “It’s been the longest two weeks of my life.”

  She gazed up into his face, resting her fingertips on his lapel. “What a wonderful surprise! Lydia didn’t expect you back until Sunday.”

  Mrs. Pinkham’s hotel room was full of luggage and boxes of compound brochures. After greeting Lydia, Henry had pulled April into the hallway, where they could be alone for a few minutes.