by Jillian Hart
“I’m not trying to pay you off.”
“Oh, no?”
What was it about this man? Why was her pulse leaping from her wrists? Why couldn’t she order herself not to react to him?
Because in the course of less than an hour this man had pulled her into his arms with a wild kiss, abandoned her, and was now trying to pay her to keep her distance.
Her direct stare was enough, apparently, to make him squirm. He shuffled and fingered the brim of his hat. “Maybe when you calm down you might see things from my perspective. You brought word that my intended bride jilted me. I was looking forward to her company for months. It wasn’t you I was angry at, but you happened to be the one who got it. I apologize. But I can’t jump into another marriage as though I’m some thoughtless adolescent boy, craving the attention of any female. You don’t deserve that.”
She hated that he made sense. Hated that he had a point and she couldn’t fault him for it.
“It seems to me we both got trapped into a difficult situation.” He rotated his hat in his fingers. “I read the letters, and understand you’re looking for work. There’s a nurse’s clinic on the east side of town you might want to visit. Three nurses. They’ll be friendly to a midwife.”
She focused with keen interest. “And the doctors? Someone on the ship told me you have two.”
“Recently left for the Klondike. Seeking gold like everyone else.”
“The nurses handle all the medical problems in town?”
“And beyond.”
Good grief. This place was more uncivilized than she’d imagined. Was there no one here to do surgery? To advise her in her duties, should she need it?
The nerves in her stomach tightened. If she had known in Seattle that she would’ve been practicing alone, like this, she likely wouldn’t have come. But she was here, thrown into the situation, and she would cope.
“Miss Grant?” One of the men who was waiting for her stepped out of the diner, a fine gentleman dressed in a wool suit. He was a banker, he’d told her, who’d worked for Wells Fargo in Texas, come to Skagway to start his own bank.
Everyone was calling her Miss Grant. Since they didn’t know her circumstances of widowhood and she wasn’t eager to spell it out for them, she let the Miss stand.
Mr. Colburne twisted up his nose at the sight of the banker.
She lifted her skirts and sailed past him. “Good day, Mr. Colburne.”
The banker gloated and tipped two fingers goodbye, in mock salute. “John.”
Whatever more John Colburne had to say to her was sadly irrelevant.
An hour later as Sophie ate dinner with her gentlemen friends, she was still bruised about her encounter with the livery owner. Dinner with the other gentlemen, one a banker, one a sailor, was interesting enough. They entertained her with conversations about the town, the best shops, the dangerous places to avoid, but her thoughts were focused on how she was to survive on her own.
She raced through dinner in order to stop by the nurse’s clinic. Unfortunately the clinic doors were closed. A sign attached said the women had gone out of town to check on patients along the coast, returning Tuesday. In three days.
Deeply disappointed, Sophie slowly made her way back to the hotel, had the maids fill her tub with hot water and scrubbed herself clean from twenty-two days at sea.
She leaned back in the tub, enjoying the steam, and wiggled her toes on the other end of the porcelain.
Her breasts tipped in and out of the bathwater, nipples pert, skin round and smooth. Water lapped gently at her hips, along the muscles of her thighs and shadow of curls visible beneath the soapy surface.
As she looked at her naked body, she thought of one man. Her plans for a wedding—and her wedding eve—had been so different from how things had turned out.
Alone in his house, John scrubbed his back in the tub harder than necessary. Two days had passed and he still couldn’t get her face out of his head.
Sophie Grant was not his responsibility. She was an adult with a mind of her own. He hadn’t asked her to come to Alaska. It was a scheme cooked up by an agency and had nothing to do with mushy feelings or duty. Then why the hell did he feel so damn inadequate when he thought of her?
He leaned back in the tub, trying to savor the heat of the water. Rivulets of moisture trickled down his temples, down his neck, along his ribs and farther down the lightly matted hair of his muscled stomach.
Resisting thoughts of Sophie, he opened his eyes, lunged for the cake of soap and lathered up his arms. Canceling the wedding ceremony with the minister hadn’t been easy. The man was understanding enough, but John hadn’t felt like going into the details of Paulette’s letter.
Letting friends know they were no longer invited to a large reception in the back garden of his house this coming Saturday had sparked even more difficult questions.
He answered them as they came. No, the wedding hadn’t been postponed—it was canceled. No, Paulette was no longer coming to Alaska. No, he was no longer getting married.
Tuesday finally came, and Sophie introduced herself to one of the nurses inside the clinic.
Victoria Windhaven—a vibrant and cheerful young woman—was in charge. The other two nurses were making calls. Victoria seemed appreciative that Sophie was a midwife, because she smiled and gave advice on all kinds of things as Sophie helped her boil and sanitize her instruments.
A huge brown braid rippled down Victoria’s shoulder as she stood over the crackling stove. “I can recommend a good boarding room. You’ll have to put your name in for Mrs. Scranton’s, but you’ll get one of the cleanest and biggest rooms in town.”
“Are there any ladies in need of midwife services?”
“Only one I’m aware of. Why don’t you meet me at Callie Thornton’s home Thursday at ten? She’s due in a month and a half.”
“Sounds lovely. Where does she live?”
“Right across the street from Colburne Stables.”
Sophie’s pulse leaped with the name. Victoria wouldn’t know anything about Sophie’s connection to John Colburne because she hadn’t mentioned her humiliation. She had, however, disclosed the circumstances of her widowhood, although she disliked the pity it always provoked, including Victoria’s. Sophie didn’t want pity. All she wanted was friendship.
Acting as though she didn’t care about the mention of Colburne Stables, Sophie extracted a set of bullet forceps from the boiling water and laid them next to the others.
“Go straight down the main street toward the mountains. Turn right at the hardware store, left at the willows. Stables are right there. He’s got two others on the outskirts of town, but that’s his main one.”
“All right.”
“Poor John Colburne. Heard he just lost a bride. Paulette somebody. It’s all over town.”
Thankfully, he seemed to be keeping to himself the news that Sophie was the replacement. She removed a pair of medical scissors from the steamy water and changed the subject. “How on earth do you manage with no doctors? What happens to the folks who might need surgery?”
“Well, Trish does some of it. Minor things like a finger amputation. She’s been a nurse for thirty years and seen just about everything. For the bigger things we recommend a person return to the lower States if they can.”
“And if they can’t?”
“Afraid there’s not much we can do for them.”
It was shocking to hear the nurse actually say it. They truly were in the middle of nowhere.
“We’re expecting a few medical students any day, so that’s a blessing. From Philadelphia. We’ve been promised by the dean.”
Victoria was a lovely person, confiding in Sophie like an old friend, telling her exactly who had what ailments in town, and who had just gotten married and might be needing midwife services in the near future. The word marriage always seemed to come up, no matter how much Sophie tried to avoid it.
“And then there’s Callie Thornton and her new husband. Lord, they’re as youn
g as schoolkids themselves, but are truly devoted to each other.”
Sophie looked down at her task, nodding where it was appropriate to nod, and smiling where appropriate to smile. She shoved all thoughts of John Colburne firmly from her mind.
On Thursday morning Sophie’s nerves fluttered along with the hotel-room curtains as she prepared for her first appointment with a patient. Dressed only in a corset and thigh-high stockings, she strode to her beaten leather trunk. Her pearl necklace swayed on her breasts as she decided on a dress—the rose-colored suit with the princess seams and pleated skirt.
She’d do well today, she told herself, despite her father’s insistence that she was too timid. He’d never seen her with a patient, had he?
She wiggled into her clothes and was out the door and down the boardwalk fifteen minutes before the appointed hour.
Inhaling the scent of salty air, she passed through the haze of shoppers. Some men’s heads swiveled as she passed, but she ignored their admiring stares. She was pleased to see more women this morning than she’d seen all week. One was working in the window of the jewelry store, another taking loaves out of the baker’s outdoor ovens.
The horn of a newly arriving ship blasted the air. Sophie jumped at the sound.
She found Callie Thornton’s home with no problem, walking past the large clapboard building that was marked by a wood-burned sign, Colburne Stables. The stables also doubled as a travel depot for stagecoach services. Victoria prayed the livery owner himself wasn’t around as she knocked on the Thornton door.
“Over here!” Victoria popped out of the front door of Colburne Stables. “Come join us! Callie’s here!”
Sophie groaned. She squirmed uncomfortably in her suit. How could she leave? This was potentially her first new patient. Taking a deep breath, she made her way to Victoria’s side. They entered the livery, engulfed by the scent of straw and horses.
Two men in overalls looked up from cleaning the stalls. A gray-haired man walking a goat tipped his hat.
Callie was standing by a Jersey cow. The animal was pregnant, and Callie was patting its nose. She was freckle faced, gracious and beautifully plump. “Nice to meet you.”
Sophie smiled. “Congratulations on your first.”
Victoria set her medical bag on the straw.
“I bumped into Victoria yesterday,” Callie said with bubbling excitement. “She told me all about you, Sophie. I’d like to hire you.”
“Oh,” said Sophie. “I’d like that, too.”
“Then you’ll come for coffee next door? I’ve got the laundry on the line, if you’ll give me ten minutes or so.” With a nod goodbye, Callie shuffled out.
Victoria, her long dark braid coiling around her pretty lace blouse, turned to Sophie. “I’ll let you and Callie get acquainted. I’ve got to call on another patient.”
“Couldn’t you stay…”
Victoria’s skirts were already whirling past the stalls. “When you’re done, drop by the clinic.” She disappeared out the back door while Sophie headed for the front, panicking that she might accidentally bump into him.
“Good morning.” John Colburne’s deep voice rumbled through the air behind her.
Her stomach contracted. She wheeled around, obstetrical bag knocking against her thighs. “Morning, Mr. Colburne.”
“Please call me John.”
The word needed extra time to leave her lips. “John.”
Carrying a bucket of feed, he was dressed in a blue shirt and faded denims. Tall, muscled and powerful.
John’s wide shoulders tightened beneath his shirt. “Where you headed to, Sophie?”
Her name sounded exotic rolling off his tongue. Something special and wonderful. Not so wonderful that he’d wanted to marry her. Ham sandwich indeed.
“Callie Thornton is my patient.”
John tilted his dark head. “Things are working out, then.”
She nodded awkwardly. The cow chomped on the feed he’d dropped into her stall. They watched for a moment. John stroked the animal’s shoulder, then lowered his large hand to pat her pregnant belly. It was unexpectedly tender. “Morning, Abbie.” He turned to look back at Sophie.
She blurted, “Thanks for sending me in the direction of the nurses.” Her shoulders heaved up and down with a big breath. Today she’d let her long blond hair hang over her shoulders, the front strands tied loosely in the back.
“You look too young to be a widow.”
She searched his face. “Mrs. Shankford must’ve mentioned it in the letter.”
He nodded. “Sorry to hear it.”
Losing Miles two years ago was something she was coping with, but there wasn’t much anyone could do to ease the loneliness when it came.
John unhooked a cowboy hat from the boards and tossed it to her. “Present for you. It’ll work better than a bonnet.”
She twirled it in her hand. Black felt.
“Since you’re not throwing it back at me,” he said with amusement, “I’ll take that as a good sign.”
She was debating whether to give it back, but softened at his words. The cow’s munching echoed off the boards. When Sophie turned her face slightly in John’s direction, his expression turned solemn, as though caught by some unexpected emotion.
“We could start again.” His eyes pulsed with hope. “Pretend we just met.”
What was he saying? He’d like to court her?
“Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?”
There went her pulse again. “I don’t know…there’s a lot of hurt feelings on both sides.”
He stared down at her. His blue eyes flickered with bits of gray. When he reached out and touched her cheek, the nerves inside her stomach squeezed.
“Hello!” A female voice interrupted them, jolting Sophie. “Anyone here? I’m looking for John Colburne.”
Sophie twisted to the front doors, nearly knocking his hand from her face, not fully believing she recognized the voice.
“Sophie,” the young woman called. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
It was her. The white-hot heat of embarrassment raced up Sophie’s face. She adjusted her buttoned jacket, fumbling as though she’d been caught at something improper.
John stepped out to greet the visitor. “I’m John.”
Dressed in a brown suit and plumed hat, the young lady with brown ringlets of curls pressed forward. She looked around the vast stables, nodding her head as though pleased. “How do you do? I’m here a few days late, but I hope…I mean I dearly hope you can forgive me. I’m here to live up to my end of the bargain.”
John turned to Sophie for an explanation, but Sophie’s mouth couldn’t move. The young woman gave him a broad smile. His face paled, her identity perhaps suddenly dawning on him.
The woman held out a gloved hand. “It’s very nice to finally meet you after our wonderful exchange of letters, John. I’m Paulette Trundle.”
Chapter Four
John’s mouth went dry as he looked from Paulette’s cheerful expression to Sophie’s dampened one. He was just getting to know Sophie. He’d just asked her out for dinner. How on God’s green earth had he managed this—standing between two lovely ladies, both promised to be his mail-order bride?
He extended his hand to Paulette. “So you came.”
She shook it weakly and her cheeks colored.
Sophie shuffled in the straw next to him and extended her hand to Paulette, as well. “Welcome to Alaska, Paulette. I should be going. I know you have a lot to talk about.”
“Please stay,” John called after her, but she already had her bag in hand and was rushing toward the door.
“Bye, Sophie,” said Paulette.
Sophie didn’t turn around, so he wasn’t able to read her expression.
“You must excuse me,” Sophie called over her shoulder. “I have an appointment with Callie. Good luck to you both.”
Paulette turned and watched Sophie leave, and when her pretty silhouette passed through the
door, Paulette turned back to John.
Her dark lashes flickered and cast shadows on her cheeks. “I’m terribly sorry for what I must’ve put you through. Did…did Sophie give you the letters?”
“Yes. Listen, we can talk about that later. You must be exhausted. I heard the blast of a ship earlier. Did you just arrive?”
She nodded, and he noted the circles beneath her eyes. She wore a hint of rouge, but it seemed only to accentuate the paleness of her skin. The voyage obviously hadn’t been easy for her. And now here they stood, awkward as hell, he rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to figure out what to say. She was running a hand over her waist and fluttering her lashes as if they would pick up precisely where they’d left off in her previous letters.
What was he supposed to do?
So help him, he’d never recommend that blasted mail-order catalog to any of his friends.
He picked up her satchel, motioned to the door and escorted her out of the stables. Sunshine heated his shoulders through the fabric of his blue shirt. “I’ll walk you to your hotel. Where’d you leave the rest of your bags?”
“The small hotel close to the docks. Everything else is booked up.”
“You’re lucky you got that.”
“Luck seems to be with me today.” She offered another of her smiles, and he realized she was a pretty woman. Any man would be delighted to have her.
Should he be?
He searched inside himself, struggling to recognize the dozens of emotions churning through him. Confusion at her arrival, optimism he’d felt with Sophie, anger at being put in this position. His pulse was throbbing beneath the surface.
They strolled along the boardwalk.
“Lovely town,” she said.
He murmured in reply, trying to force himself to tell her exactly what he felt. Could he be that open with her?
But she’d come all this way, he argued to himself. Perhaps he should calm down before saying anything.
They neared the quaint plank building across from the loading docks and he felt as though he was approaching a gallows with the hangman waiting.