“I’m going to listen to your chest, and I want you to take several deep breaths,” Sarah explained. She put her stethoscope against the woman’s chest, listening for the sounds of her breathing.
She repeated the process by putting the metal cup against the woman’s clothed back. Sarah’s face was intense as she listened to the woman’s lungs. She came around to face the woman and sat down in front of her. “How have you been feeling?”
“I’ve been coughing a lot lately, and I’m so tired. I just can’t seem to get enough rest,” Mrs. Melbourne complained.
“You have fluid in your lungs, which is not good. I want you to nap every afternoon for at least two hours, plus I want you to walk every day. You need to get exercise or that fluid will continue to build.”
“I don’t have time to take a nap in the afternoon. My family needs me,” the woman replied, pushing back a strand of wayward hair.
Sarah took her patient’s hands in hers, gazing at her as if there were no one else in the room, and explained slowly and softly, “Mrs. Melbourne, your life is at risk. You have consumption, and if you don’t take care of yourself, the fluid will continue to build until your lungs are full.”
“Doesn’t everyone die when they get consumption?” the woman responded.
“No. Some people get well. But you have to take care of yourself, and that means rest, eating healthy foods and exercise to keep the fluid down. ”
“But my family . . . ,” she protested.
“Your family has to understand. You could die if you don’t take care of yourself. I’d be happy to wait and talk with your husband,” Sarah offered, staring sympathetically at Mrs. Melbourne.
“No. I can tell him. I know you’re busy.”
“Now, I want you on a diet of meat, milk and vegetables. Walk each day until you feel tired, and then rest. You’ve got to get plenty of sleep.”
“And this will cure me?” Mrs. Melbourne asked again.
“There’s a chance.” Sarah paused and waited expectantly, her attention focused on the woman. “Do you have any other questions?”
“No. It’s just that Doc Wilson never told me I had a chance of living,” she said, puzzled. “I thought I was going to die, so why even try to get better?”
“For many years we didn’t think a person with consumption could survive, but now there’s hope.” She stood and patted Mrs. Melbourne on the back. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to examine your children while I’m here.”
“Please do,” Mrs. Melbourne said, before a coughing spell took her breath away.
“Any handkerchiefs that you spit up blood and phlegm on, don’t let anyone in the family touch. My recommendation would be to burn them or wash them in boiling water with the strongest soap you have.”
“Okay,” Mrs. Melbourne said breathlessly.
Sarah stood and walked to the children. “Who wants to be brave and go first?”
“I do,” the little girl cried. “I’m not afraid.”
“Good, there’s nothing to be afraid of”
Tucker sat back and watched as Sarah talked to the children and listened to their lungs. She checked their throats and looked in their ears.
She was the smartest person he had ever met, and he admired the way she did her job. For as long as he could remember she had wanted to be a doctor. But then, her father had been a physician, and she had traveled with him for awhile.
This was the life she was meant for, a country doctor caring for the townspeople. She didn’t need to go back to Tombstone. These people were her family and friends. These people should be her patients, not some no-account gunslinger who’d taken a bullet.
And if she stayed, he could watch over her. But how could he do that when he was leaving? He pushed the thought away, his mind drifting back to the times when they were children growing up.
When she graduated from that fancy school, she had wound up in Tombstone of all places, patching up gunslingers, doctoring whores and trying to help Indians. She was such a do-gooder, and for years he had been just the opposite. They were like night and day, and he wondered how they had stayed friends all these years. What kept them coming back to one another, except fate?
He feared he would never be smart enough or good enough for Sarah, yet they were still friends.
He admired the way she was tough and bright. The way she listened as though the one speaking was the only other person in the world. She was genuine and caring. And he admitted she wasn’t too bad on the eyes either. Motherhood had finished shaping her hips, and her curves were in all the right places. She was sharp, she was beautiful and she needed a man to marry and settle down with.
He cleared his throat, that thought suddenly making him nervous. Sarah glanced up at him, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her blue eyes were smoky and warm, and then she went back to her exam.
God, when she looked at him that way, he could feel the heat of her gaze all the way to his toes. It was a wonder there wasn’t smoke coming out the tips of his boots.
As she finished looking in the young boy’s throat, she reached down and tickled him, making the child laugh.
She looked up and noticed Tucker watching her, and for just a moment they stared across the room at each other. An image of them naked and in bed together came to mind, and quickly he glanced away.
The urge to cross the room and kiss her was almost overwhelming. He wanted so much to just taste her one more time. To run his hand down the velvety smoothness of her skin, to taste the honeydew sweetness of her lips. But that would be way out of line for a cowboy who was determined to remain a bachelor.
“Mrs. Melbourne, your children seem very healthy,”
Sarah said, jolting him back from his mind’s exploration of her body. “I intend to come back and check on you again before Doc Wilson returns to his practice. So I should see you again in two or three weeks. If you need me before then, send word and I’ll come.”
“Wait here, just a minute,” the woman called, and hurried out of the living quarters of the house.
They stood there waiting for about five minutes before she ran back in with a basket. “Here, I want you to have this. It’s not much; but it’s after lunch, and you’ve spent the entire morning here with us.”
Sarah took the basket. “Thank you. It smells delicious.”
“It’s such a beautiful day outside, maybe you and the marshal could stop by Pecan Creek and have a picnic,” Mrs. Melbourne said.
Tucker nodded and took Sarah by the elbow, leading her out the door. “Thanks for the basket, Mrs. Melbourne. Hope you get to feeling better.”
They walked out the door, and he helped Sarah up into the buggy and then crawled in behind her. They waved to the woman and her children, who had come out to watch them leave, and Tucker called to the horse.
“Yeehaw!”
With a lurch the vehicle rolled out of the yard and back toward the road to town.
“Will she get better?” he asked.
“Depends on whether her body can fight off the disease. But without the proper food and rest, she’ll be dead within the year.” Her voice was calm and steady. “I hate losing patients.”
He reached out and patted her on the leg, somehow wanting to give her comfort. The feel of her leg beneath his hand was warm and arousing.
She gazed at him, one brow lifted in surprise. He pulled his hand back, flabbergasted by his comforting gesture. What was he thinking? Reaching out and touching to console her?
But worse, he had enjoyed the feel of her thigh beneath his fingers.
The next few miles they rode in silence, Tucker trying to comprehend the feelings that watching Sarah at work this morning had stirred. What was it about this woman? They were mere friends and nothing more. Yet when he was around her, it felt like so much more.
Tucker glanced over at Sarah, who sat gazing out at the countryside, the wind teasing wisps of her blond hair about her face. She was a beautiful woman, and he had already made the e
rror of sleeping with her in Tombstone, though at the time he had enjoyed every minute. He was not about to repeat the same mistake, but her blue eyes were sparkling, her lips were so full and tempting and dang she looked good, even better than he remembered. And if the truth were told, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to be in her arms a second time.
Turning onto the main road back to town, Tucker noticed the sky was beginning to turn a robin’s egg blue off to the west. “Looks like the clouds are starting to build.”
“A little rain would be nice,” she said, tightening the strings on the bonnet she was wearing. “Did you want to stop and eat the food Mrs. Melbourne prepared for us?”
“Not with the way those clouds are beginning to look. Remember, it’s springtime in Texas.” He slapped the reins on the back of the horse. “I think we better get back to town, before we get caught in a frog choker.”
They were well over an hour from town, and the road to the Melboumes’ was rough from lack of use.
“Frog choker!” she said, her voice trailing off. “I haven’t heard that expression in a long time.” She laughed. “You know, you always were one to come up with the silliest expressions. It was one of the things I liked about you.”
She stared out at the countryside as if she had said too much.
“Why have we remained friends all these years, Sarah? We’re so different,” he said.
Her face turned, and she gazed at him in amazement. She laughed, the sound light and carefree. He hadn’t heard her laugh like that in years, and it reminded him of when she was a young girl.
“What brought this on?” she asked. “I didn’t think you were a man who did too much thinking.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Watching you this morning with Mrs. Melbourne, I realized how different we are.”
“It’s hard for me to imagine you thinking about our friendship.” She paused and brushed back a strand of hair from her face. “Especially after . . . after you came to Tombstone.”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “I guess you regret me ... us doing what we did?”
She looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise at his question. “No. I don’t regret that night.” She paused, staring at him, her facial expression guarded. “I was hurt and disappointed that you left without saying good-bye. I had no expectations, but you’re leaving in the middle of the night made it seem cheap.”
He looked away, his eyes transfixed on the road in front of him. “It wasn’t cheap, Sarah. But I didn’t know what to say, so I left.”
“Good-bye would have been nice.”
She turned her attention back to the countryside, and he felt ill at ease. Good-bye? That was all she had expected? Not “let’s get married”? Live happily ever after? Have babies? Wasn’t that what good women expected?
“What do you mean, ‘good-bye’ would have been just fine? Most women expect more, especially after you’ve shared their bed with them,” he said, stealing quick glances at her as he drove steadily.
“You’re right. But why in the world would I expect or want to marry a man like you? At that time you were a wounded gunslinger with a thirst for vengeance. Why would I want to become involved in that kind of mess? I still don’t need a man that desperately.”
For a moment he sat stunned by her words. She had had sex with him, but she hadn’t wanted to marry him? Seemed too good to be true, yet he was uneasy.
“So you weren’t mad?” he asked.
“Sure I was. You left without saying good-bye. But did I want to marry you? No. Why would I?”
She had taken the wind right out of his sails. Somehow he had thought of her pining away for him. But instead she had gone out and married someone else.
“So why did you marry your husband?” he asked.
Tucker watched as her mouth tightened and her eyes widened, as if he had offended her by even asking.
“I married Mr. James for the same reason that people have been marrying for hundreds of years. I loved him.”
He shook his head. “No. I mean, what caused you to fall in love with him?”
She sighed. “He was dependable. He was there when I needed him. He was kind, considerate, loyal and trustworthy. His word stood for something. He supported my being a doctor, and he knew when to back away and leave me alone.”
Tucker couldn’t help but think that the man sounded more like a saint than a husband.
“You must have met him pretty quick after I left.”
“Yes, I did. And we fell in love very suddenly.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. The warm breeze blew briskly across his arm.
“So why have we remained friends all these years?” he asked, getting back to the original question.
“I only know that when I was growing up you were fun to be with. You made me laugh. You didn’t treat me like a girl, but rather a kid. No matter what I wanted to do, you encouraged me.”
“Well, you certainly grew up to look like a girl.”
“Is that a compliment, Mr. Burnett?” she teased. He glanced at her. The sun had kissed her cheeks until they were pink, the blue of her eyes matched the disappearing sky and the smile she bestowed upon him made him forget about the encroaching storm clouds. Made him forget everything but being with Sarah.
“You know it is,” he said, his voice coming out deep and husky.
The trees were becoming sparse as they rode toward an area of prairie that was filled with tall grass that swayed in the wind.
“So do you believe that men and women can be friends without anything sexual between them?” she asked.
The question surprised him. How did he answer this one and stay out of trouble? Yes, they were friends. But right now he wouldn’t hesitate at the least indication from her, and he would be all over her like bees on honey. He wanted her so badly he was aching with the knowledge, but they were friends. Not lovers, not a couple, just two separate people who wanted different lives. Friends attracted for all the wrong reasons.
“Yes, but for men everything is sexual.”
She started laughing. “I should have known better than to ask you that question.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Tucker glanced up at the white cirrus clouds that were suddenly moving above them very quickly. “We’ll be lucky if we don’t get drenched.”
“How far from town are we?” she asked.
“Almost an hour,” he replied.
“How long before this storm hits?”
“Depends. But it appears to be gaining speed on us. Hang on, we’re going to pick up the pace a little.” Tucker took out the whip and snapped it across the back of the horse that was pulling the buggy. “Yee- haw! Let’s go.”
The horse lifted its head and picked up its legs, moving into a fast trot. Sarah bounced on the seat next to Tucker, occasionally bumping him with her hip, the edge of which brushed against his leg with a sensuous rub. He couldn’t help but remember her long, naked limbs wrapped around him, and he wanted to groan at the image.
He watched with increasing uneasiness as the clouds grew darker, the colors changing from blue to turquoise. Thunder rumbled closer, and Tucker stared as a wicked streak of lightning met the earth. It was still miles away; but the storm was catching them, and no matter how fast he ran the poor horse, they would soon be wet.
Suddenly, the horse stumbled in a prairie dog hole, and Tucker swore beneath his breath. He watched the horse’s gait and knew the animal had somehow hurt itself. Pulling on the reins, he brought the buggy to a halt.
“Why are you stopping?” Sarah asked.
“Something’s wrong with the horse,” he said, climbing down. He walked to the animal and knelt down beside it. Running his hand over the back of the animal’s leg, he felt the muscles and tendons. The horse gave a cry of distress.
Sarah jumped down from the buggy and walked around to Tucker. “Let me feel,” she said, running her hands down the animal’s leg. “He’s tom his muscle.”
“Whose
horse is it?” Tucker asked.
“He belongs to the hotel. Grandfather keeps extra horses on hand that guests can rent.” She stood and glanced up at the clouds. “So now what do we do? We have no horse, a buggy that can’t be pulled and a storm brewing.”
Tucker began loosening the bit from the horse’s mouth. They would have to leave the horse behind and continue on foot, abandoning the doctor’s buggy as well.
“What kind of shoes are you wearing?” Tucker questioned.
“My boots, what else?” she said. “I know better than to wear those flimsy fashionable slippers. At least not when I’m working.”
“Good. Because it looks like we’ll be walking until we either find help or someplace to wait out the storm.”
He lifted the bridle over the horse’s head, then slapped it on the rump and sent it trotting off to find grass.
“He may find his way back to town before we do,” Sarah said, watching the horse limp across the field.
Tucker put the harness in the back of the buggy. After picking up the basket of food Mrs. Melbourne had given them and a blanket that was tucked underneath the seat, he turned to Sarah.
“Let’s get started. This weather isn’t going to hold off much longer.”
“Let me get my medical bag. I’m not leaving it here.” She grabbed the black bag out of the wagon.
They started walking down the dirt road just as the wind kicked up, showering them with a cool, dusty breeze.
Sarah coughed and turned her face away. “Oh, my. This should be a fun walk.”
“I know we passed a line shack this morning. We’ll stay there until this storm passes.”
They walked along, the thunder getting closer. The skies were beginning to turn green with bubble formations in the clouds.
“I don’t think I like the way these clouds are looking,” Sarah commented.
“Me neither,” Tucker admitted, certain they were going to be soaked at any moment. But just as the first fat drops of rain started to fall, he spotted the building he was looking for.
The Marshal Takes A Bride Page 13