Orchard Valley Brides

by Debbie Macomber

  “That’s true, too, but—”

  “It just so happens that Pepper badly needs a qualified physician assistant. Now we’ve finally hired one, but she’s not due to get here for a coupla weeks yet. So-o-o…”

  Sherry abruptly decided to discontinue her charade. “Well, she’s here. It’s me.” She smiled brightly. “I’m early, I know, but—”

  “Well, I’ll be! This is great, just great. I wish you’d said something sooner. We’d’ve thrown a welcome party if we’d known, isn’t that right, Donna Jo?”

  “Actually I was on my way to Houston to visit a friend, but curiosity got the better of me,” Sherry explained. “I thought I’d drive through town and get a look at Pepper.”

  “Well, what do you think?” He pushed back his Stetson and favored her with a wide smile. “You can stay for a while, can’t you?” he asked. “Now, you finish your lunch,” he said as Donna Jo set a towering piece of lemon meringue pie in front of Sherry and replenished her iced tea. “Your meal’s on us,” he announced grandly. “Send the tab to my office, Donna Jo.”

  “Thank you,” Sherry began, “but—”

  “Soon as you’re done, Miz…”

  “Waterman. Sherry Waterman.”

  “Soon as you’re done eating, I aim to show you around town. We’ll stop by the clinic, too. I want Doc Lindsey to meet you.”

  “Well…I suppose.” Sherry hoped she didn’t sound ungracious. She finished her meal quickly and in silence, acutely conscious of Mayor Bowie’s rapt and unwavering gaze.

  The second she put her fork down, he took hold of her elbow and practically lifted her from the chair. He’d obviously regained his voice, because he was talking enthusiastically as he guided her out the café door.

  “Pepper’s a sweet little town. Got its name from Jim Pepper. Don’t suppose you ever heard of him up there in Or-ee-gon. He died at the Alamo, and our forefathers didn’t want the world to forget what a fine man he was, so they up and named the town after him. What most folks don’t know is that he was darn near blind. He couldn’t have shot one of Santa Ana’s men if his life depended on it, which unfortunately it did.”

  “I’m sure his family was proud.”

  They strolled down the road and turned left onto a friendly looking, tree-lined street. Sherry noticed a huge old white house with a wide porch and dark green shutters and guessed it must be the clinic.

  “Doc Lindsey’s going to be mighty glad to meet you,” the mayor was saying as he held open the gate of the white picket fence. “He’s been waiting a good long while for this. Yes, indeed. A good long while.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting him, too,” Sherry said politely. And it was true. She’d spent the past two years going to school part-time in order to train for this job. She was excited about beginning her new responsibilities. But not quite yet. She did want to visit Norah first.

  She preceded the mayor up the porch steps to the screen door. He opened it for her, and led her inside, past a middle-aged receptionist who called out a cordial greeting.

  “Doc’s in, isn’t he?” Dan asked over his shoulder without stopping to hear the reply.

  Apparently, whether or not Doc was with a patient was of no concern to Pepper’s duly elected mayor. Clasping her by the elbow, he knocked loudly on a polished oak door and let himself in.

  An older white-haired man was sitting in a comfortable-looking office chair, his feet propped on the corner of a scarred desk. His mouth was wide open; his head had fallen back. A strangled sound came from his throat, and it took Sherry a moment to realize he was snoring.

  “Doc,” Dan said loudly. “I brought someone for you to meet.” When the old man didn’t respond, Dan said it again, only louder.

  “I think we should let him sleep,” Sherry whispered.

  “Nonsense. He’ll be madder’n blazes if he misses meeting you.”

  Whereas the shouting hadn’t interrupted Don Lindsey’s nap, Sherry’s soft voice did. He dropped his feet and straightened, blinking at Sherry as if she were an apparition.

  “Who in tarnation are you?”

  “Sherry Waterman,” she said. “Mayor Bowie wanted us to meet.”

  “What ails you?”

  “I’m in perfect health.”

  “She’s that gal we hired from Or-ee-gon.”

  “Why in heaven’s name didn’t you say so?” Doc Lindsey boomed, vaulting to his feet with the energy of a man twenty years younger. “About time you got here.”

  “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding….” Sherry began, but neither man was listening. Doc slapped the mayor on the back, reached behind the door for his fishing pole and announced he’d be back at the end of the week.

  He paused on his way out of the office. “Ellie Johnson’s baby is due anytime now, but you won’t have any problem with that. More’n likely I’ll be back long before she goes into labor. She was two weeks late with her first one.”

  “Don’t you worry,” the mayor said, following Doc out the door. “I heard Sherry tell Donna Jo she’s a midwife, too.”

  Doc shook hands with the mayor and chortled happily. “You outdid yourself this time, Danny-boy. See you in a week.”

  “Dr. Lindsey!” Sherry cried, chasing after him. He was already outside and on the sidewalk. “I’m not staying! I’m on my way to Houston to meet a friend.” She scrambled down the steps so fast she nearly stumbled.

  Doc didn’t seem to hear her. The mayor, too, had suddenly developed a hearing problem.

  Doc tossed his fishing pole into the bed of his truck and climbed into the front seat.

  “I can’t stay!” she shouted. “I’m not supposed to start work for another two weeks. I’ve made other plans!”

  “Seems to me you’re here now,” Doc said. “Might as well stay. Good to have you on the team. I’ll see you…” The roar of the engine drowned out his last words.

  Sherry stood on the lawn, her heart pounding as she watched him drive away. Frowning, she clenched her fists at her sides. Neither man had taken the trouble to listen to her; they just assumed she would willingly forgo her plans. But darn it, she wasn’t going to be railroaded by some hick mayor and a doctor who obviously spent more time sleeping and fishing than practicing medicine.

  “I can’t stay,” she said, as annoyed with herself as she was with the mayor. This was what she got for being so curious.

  “But you can’t leave now,” Mayor Bowie insisted. “Doc won’t be back for a week. Besides, he’s never been real good with time—a week could turn out to be ten days or more.”

  She pushed a stray lock of shiny brown hair off her forehead, and her blue eyes blazed. “That’s unfortunate, because I’m meeting my friend in Houston and I can’t be late.” That wasn’t entirely true but she didn’t intend to start work until the agreed-upon date. On top of that, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something not quite right about the situation here in Pepper.

  “If you could stay the week, we’d all be mighty grateful,” the mayor was saying.

  “I’m sorry but no,” Sherry told him emphatically, heading back down the street toward her car.

  The mayor dogged her heels. “I’m sure your friend wouldn’t mind. Why don’t you phone and ask her? The city will pay for the call.”

  Great, Sherry thought, there were even perks. “No, thanks,” she said firmly.

  The mayor continued to plead. “I feel bad about this,” he said. “But a week, why, only seven days, and Doc hasn’t had time off in months.”

  Sherry kept walking, refusing to let him work on her sympathies. He seemed to have forgotten about the possibility of Doc’s absence lasting as long as ten days, too.

  “You have to understand,” he went on, “that with Doc away there isn’t anyone within miles for medical emergencies.”

  Sherry stopped and turned to glare at him. “It’s too bad the pair of you didn’t think of that sooner. I told you when you introduced yourself that I was on my way to Hous
ton. My contract doesn’t start for two weeks.”

  “I know.” He removed his hat and looked at her imploringly. “Surely a week isn’t too much to ask.”

  “Excuse me, miss.” A stocky police officer dressed in a tan uniform had come out of the café and strolled over to her. The town sheriff, she decided. He was chewing on a toothpick and his thumbs were tucked in his belt buckle, which hung low under his protruding belly. “I don’t suppose you happen to own that cute little Cruiser just there, do you?” He pointed at her car, about twenty feet away.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  His nod was slow and deliberate. The toothpick was smoothly transferred to the other side of his mouth. “I was afraid of that. Best I can tell, it’s parked illegally.”

  “It most certainly is not,” Sherry protested as the three of them reached the car. The slot was clearly marked and she’d pulled in between two other vehicles.

  “See how your left rear tire is over the yellow line?” the sheriff asked, pointing.

  “I suppose that carries a heavy fine?” Good grief, she thought. Before long some cowpoke was going to suggest they get a rope and hang her from the nearest tree. In that case she’d be okay, since she hadn’t seen anything but brush for the last hundred miles.

  “There isn’t a fine for illegally parking your car,” he said, grinning lazily. “But jaywalking does carry a hefty one, and I saw you cross that street with my very own eyes.”

  “There wasn’t a crosswalk,” she said.

  “Sure there is,” he said, still grinning. “It’s down the street a bit, but it’s there. I painted it myself no more’n ten years ago.”

  “You’re going to fine me, then,” she said, reaching into her bag for her wallet. “Great. I’ll pay you and be done with it.” After that she was going to head straight for the freeway, and when she got to Houston, she’d reconsider this job offer.

  “There isn’t any fine.”

  “But you just said there was!” Actually, Sherry was relieved. Her cash was running low and she doubted the sheriff would accept a check.

  “No fine, but the jail term—”

  “Jail term!” she exploded.

  “Now, Billy Bob,” the mayor said, placing himself between the two of them, “you don’t really intend to put our doc’s helper in jail, do you?”

  Billy Bob rubbed his hand across the underside of his jaw as if needing to contemplate such a monumental decision.

  “You’d give Pepper a bad name,” the mayor went on, “and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

  “You staying in Pepper, miss?” the officer asked.

  Sherry’s gaze connected with Mayor Bowie’s. “It appears I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  The minute she had access to a phone, Sherry vowed, she was going to call her friend’s husband, Rowdy Cassidy. Rowdy, the owner of one of the largest computer software companies in the world, had a large legal staff. He’d be able to pull a few strings for her. By the end of the day, these folks in Pepper would be facing so many lawsuits, they’d throw a parade when she left town.

  “I’ll walk you back to the clinic,” the mayor said, smiling as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “I’m sure Mrs. Colson’ll be happy to give you a tour of the place.”

  Sherry ground her teeth and bit back a tart reply. Until she had the legal clout she needed, there was no point in voicing any more protests.

  Instead, Sheriff Billy Bob himself escorted her down the street and around the corner to the clinic. The middle-aged receptionist introduced herself as Mrs. Colson and greeted Sherry with a warm smile. “I’m so glad you decided to stay.”

  “You make her welcome now,” the sheriff instructed.

  “You know I will,” Mrs. Colson told him, standing and coming around the counter. “You can go on now,” she told Billy Bob and, taking him by the elbow, escorted him out the door. She turned to Sherry. “Billy Bob can outstare a polecat, but underneath that tough hide of his, he’s gentle as a baby.”

  Sherry swallowed a retort as the receptionist went on to extol the sheriff’s virtues.

  “One of those multitalented folks you read so much about. Not only does he uphold the law around these parts, but he makes the best barbecue sauce in the state. Wait till you taste it. Everyone thinks he should bottle and sell it, but I doubt he will.”

  “How…unfortunate,” was all Sherry could manage.

  Her mood didn’t improve as Mrs. Colson gave her the grand tour. Despite her frame of mind, Sherry was impressed with the clinic’s modern equipment and pleased with the small apartment at one end of the building that would serve as her living quarters.

  “Doc’s sure glad to get away for a few days,” Mrs. Colson said amicably, ignoring Sherry’s sour mood. “I can’t even remember the last time he had more than a day to himself. He talks about fishing a lot—gets a pile of those magazines and catalogs. In the twenty years I’ve known him, I don’t believe I’ve seen him livelier than he was today after you arrived. Guess he was thinking he’d best skedaddle before you changed your mind. I’m sure glad you didn’t.”

  Sherry’s answering smile was weak. Between Dan Bowie, Doc Lindsey and Billy Bob, she’d been completely hog-tied.

  “So Dr. Lindsey’s been practicing in Pepper for twenty years?” She wondered if, like her, he’d innocently driven into town and been snared. This could be something straight out of that old TV series, The Twilight Zone.

  “Thirty years, in fact, maybe more. Most folks think of him as a saint.”

  Some saint, Sherry thought. With little more than a nod of his head, he’d abandoned Pepper and her.

  Mrs. Colson led her to Doc’s office. “Now make yourself at home. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

  “No, thanks,” Sherry answered, walking over to the desk. The telephone caught her eye. As soon as she had a minute alone, she’d call Houston.

  But the moment Mrs. Colson left there was a knock at the office door. Sherry groaned. She hadn’t even had time to sit down.

  “Come in,” she called, thinking it must be the receptionist.

  In walked a tall, rawboned cowboy with skin tanned the color of a new penny. He wore jeans, a checkered shirt and a pair of scarred boots. A Stetson hat hooded his dark eyes, and somehow, with the red bandana around his neck, he looked both rough and dangerous.

  “You’re not Doc Lindsey,” he said accusingly.

  “No,” she agreed tartly, “I’m not.”

  “Oh, good,” Mrs. Colson said, following him into the room. “I see your one-o’clock appointment is here.”

  “My one o’clock appointment?”

  “Where’s Doc?” the cowboy demanded.

  “He’s gone fishing. Now you sit down,” Mrs. Colson directed in steely tones. “You’re Miz Waterman’s first patient, and I don’t want her getting a bad impression of the folks in Pepper.”

  “I ain’t talkin’ to no woman about Heather.”

  “Why not? A woman would be far more understanding than Doc.”

  The cowboy shook his head stubbornly.

  Personally, Sherry agreed with him.

  “Don’t you argue with me, Cody Bailman,” Mrs. Colson said, arms akimbo. “And don’t you make trouble for Miz Waterman. She’s a real sweetheart.”

  Cody shifted his hat farther back on his head. “It ain’t gonna work.”

  “That’s right. It ain’t gonna work unless you try.” The receptionist took Cody by the elbow and marched him to the chair on the other side of the desk. “Now sit. You, too, Sherry.” Neither of them bothered to comply, but that didn’t disturb the receptionist. “Cody’s here to talk about his daughter. She’s twelve and giving him plenty of grief, and he comes here for advice because…well, because his wife died about ten years back and he’s having a few problems understanding what’s happening to Heather now that she’s becoming a young woman.”

  “Which means I’m not talkin’ to some stranger about my personal affairs,” Cody sai
d.

  “It’ll do you good to get everything out,” Mrs. Colson assured him. “Now sit down,” she said again. “Sherry, you sit, too. If you stand, it’ll make Cody nervous.”

  Sherry sat. “What should I do?” she whispered.

  “Listen,” the older women instructed. “That’s all Doc ever does. It seems to help.”

  Doc Lindsey apparently served as Pepper’s psychologist, too. Sherry had received some training along those lines, but certainly not enough to qualify as a counselor.

  “I’m not talkin’ to a woman,” Cody said.

  “Did you ever consider that’s the reason you’re having so many problems with Heather?” Mrs. Colson pointed out, then stalked over to the door. As she reached for the knob, her narrowed eyes moved from Cody to Sherry, and her tight features relaxed into a smile. “You let me know if Cody gives you any problems, but I doubt he will.” She dropped her voice. “What Heather really needs is a mother. In my opinion, Cody should remarry.”

  “You volunteering for the job, Martha?” Cody said.

  Mrs. Colson’s cheeks reddened. “I’m old enough to be your mother, and you darn well know it.” With that she left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Cody laughed and to Sherry’s surprise sat down in the chair across from her, took off his hat and relaxed. As he rested one ankle on the opposite knee and stared at Sherry, the humor drained out of his face.

  She wasn’t sure what to do. If she hadn’t felt so intimidated by this dark-haired cowboy, she’d have sent him on his way.

  “You married?” he asked suddenly.

  Her mouth fell open. When she finally managed to speak, her words stumbled over one another. “No, I’m not, I…that is…” She knew she sounded breathless and inane.

  “Don’t look so worried. I’m not expecting you to offer your services as my wife.”

  “I realize that,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. Unfortunately it wasn’t much.

  “Then how are you supposed to know about kids?”

  “I have two younger brothers and a sister,” she said, wondering why she thought she had to defend herself. She should be sending him on his way. She sighed. The longer this day lasted, the more convinced she was that she’d somehow stepped out of the present. The man sitting across from her might have come from another century.