by P. Creeden
The patient in the bed looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes. “I’ve got a horrible headache and this rash.” He lifted his arm and showed her the reddened area on the skin.
She nodded and made note of his symptoms. It’s possible that the headache was due to dehydration, but if the waters around the camp weren’t suitable or plentiful, they were going to have a problem getting everyone enough to drink.
A nurse joined her as she came to the second patient and found the same symptoms. Old enough to be Josie’s mother, the nurse had her hair pulled back in a long silver braid. The woman’s chubby cheeks were as round and tight as apples when she smiled down to Josie and introduced herself as Ruth. “I’ll be. A lady doctor. I’m surprised the lieutenant allowed that. I guess he must finally be getting desperate.”
Josie’s heart fell at the comments, but they were said so cheerfully, that she didn’t respond to them, only got back to work. “Do we have access to chamomile tea or raspberry tea?”
The woman shrugged. “I can check at the storage. Why?”
Was she going to be questioned for every little decision she made? Her smile strained. “Valley fever causes rashes, fever, and upset stomach. Rather than drinking water, I want all the patients to be drinking a weak tea made from raspberry or chamomile. It calms the stomach. We also will use the tea to create cold compresses for the rashes to keep them from itching so much. There are many uses for the teas.”
“Huh. Well I’ve never heard of using things that way, but it sounds good to me. I’ll go check the military rations first and then go to the general store if they don’t have it available.”
“Good,” Josie said with a firm nod. “And make sure you boil the tea thoroughly with the leaves in. Then let it cool to the right temperature for serving to the patients and using for cold compresses.”
Rubbing her hands together, Ruth gave a wide smile. “At least now I feel like we’re getting somewhere.”
Most of the evening was spent dealing with Valley Fever and dysentery patients. Before they got the teas and cold compresses, Josie was as generous as she could be with willow bark for general pain and mulberry root for those who complained of aches in their joints from the fever. Ruth had been an enormous help, but she left about an hour before Josie, as she had family she needed to care for. Late in the evening, it seemed that the patients had settled into a restful sleep, and she even felt that she might be able to send some of them home in the morning after teaching them how to use the medications that she was giving them. Most of her patients were men, though there were a few women and children among them.
Sweat still beaded along her neck and back when she stepped out of the hospital and into the warm, muggy night air. Gas lamps lined the walkway up and down the main street of the camp, and the faint music of an organ reached her ears. A saloon. Of course, between the unmarried soldiers and the miners who lived in the area, they’d need someplace to blow off steam. Josie frowned as two drunken men stumbled her direction. Swallowing hard, Josie sped up to so she could round the corner and head down the alley toward her quarters tent in the back of the hospital.
“Oh, hey there, pretty lady,” one said, quickening his pace to catch up with her. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
She put as much stiffness in her spine to make herself taller and strengthened in her voice as she said. “I’m hurrying home to my husband. He’s waiting for me.”
A hand landed upon her shoulder, gripping too hard. Fingers pressed into her collarbone, threatening to leave bruises. “That’s no reason to rush off. Let the man wait.”
Fear poured down Josie’s spine as she suppressed a shiver. She didn’t want to show any fear to these ruffians. The pinky finger was one of the weakest parts of the human body. It cannot move well on its own and can only bend when used in conjunction with the fourth finger. It’s also easily broken or dislocated because of its small joints and thin bones. She reached up and touched the hand that gripped her shoulder and got hold of the pinky finger. Then she twisted it and wrenched it in a circle.
The man howled.
Josie took this opportunity to run. The dark alley ahead of her wasn’t the most welcoming of places, but the light on the other end comforted her. Billy would be there. If she could just reach him. But she barely made more than three steps before a hand found its way into her hair and yanked. Josie nearly flipped off her feet as the hand pulled her backward. A squeal escaped her lips, and she hated that she’d allowed them to get enough control of her to make that sound. She stumbled and caught herself just before falling over. The man kept hold of her hair, even though she pulled. Her scalp prickled with pain as she twisted toward the man. She didn’t want to use her bag as a weapon. It had too many fragile items stored within but desperate times called for desperate measures. She gripped it with two hands, prepared to hit the man upside the head with it when she saw an arm reach out of the dark.
The arm wrapped around the man’s neck and pulled him into a tight hold. He released Josie’s hair, and she staggered away from him. The other man still howled and cried over his wrenched finger. With the arm wrapped around his neck, the other one’s eyes bulged as his face turned red and he struggled to breathe. And beside his head was Billy’s face—the owner of the arm. His eyes narrowed and a sneer pulled at his lip. An animalistic anger twisted her partner’s face. Josie’s heart fluttered, but it wasn’t entirely fear that she felt.
Then the man stopped struggling and went slack. He’d passed out. Josie blinked and realized that Billy wasn’t releasing his hold. “Billy, let him go. You’re going to kill him.”
Billy blinked, a confused look passing over his face before he released the man, and his features softened as he looked at Josie. She swallowed hard. He truly looked at her differently than he did everyone else. The hardness in all his features softened whenever he looked at her. Her heart fluttered again.
“You broke my finger! You good-for-nothing little—” The man who remained on his feet began cursing at Josie, and Billy rounded on him. He grabbed the man by the collar, cutting off the filth he spewed, and slammed him up against the wall of the hospital there in the alley.
“Apologize to the woman. Not only is she my wife, but she’s the only person in this town who can fix your finger and make it right. She’s the doctor,” Billy hissed through his teeth.
The man’s eyes went wide. He nodded, and Billy set him back on his feet.
After releasing the man, he straightened the man’s collar with rough hands. “Now, would you like my wife to take a look at that hand and fix it for you or are you not going to play nicely?”
The man nodded and then looked at Josie with worried eyes, pushing his hand toward her. She’d felt the pinky pop when she twisted it and knew it was just a dislocation and not broken bones. She stepped up to him and put her bag down. Then she took his hand gingerly.
He winced and hissed. “Please be easy with it.”
Josie frowned. “It’s dislocated. In order to right it, it’s going to hurt a bit more.”
The man’s eyes grew watery as he bit his bottom lip.
She lifted a brow at him and then turned to Billy. “Hold him still for me?”
Billy huffed a laugh and then leaned the man up against the wall.
The man whined, and then Josie grabbed hold of his finger and pulled. He howled once more.
Chapter 8
Billy
Billy had been heading through the alley to check on Josie after having made a stew of dried ham hock and potatoes which he’d acquired from the general store. He knew that after the three hours of work she’d put in that evening that she would be tired and hungry. It was his job to protect her and part of that was making sure that she was well fed and well rested. But when he turned down the alley and found the two drunkards accosting her, he saw red and charged at them like a bull.
Once they were taken care of, Josie seemed light on her feet, happy even, almost skipping by his side while the h
eaded toward the tent. On the other hand, her hair was a mess. It was half in, half out of the bun she’d had before. The bun itself had moved down toward her neck. Locks of hair framed her face, to complete the disheveled look. It made him mad looking at it, but he was only angry with himself. He should have left sooner. If he had caught her while she was still in the hospital, she would never have walked alone. He huffed at himself.
She lifted a brow at him when they reached the other side of the alley and stood just outside their tent. “What’s the matter?”
He shook his head at her, frowning. “Nights in a camp like this are dangerous. Soldiers and miners make up nearly the whole town at night. There’s at least ten men to one woman here. That makes you a target for nearly every man in the camp.”
She shrugged, her face still too soft and calm. “What would you have me do then?”
“Don’t leave the hospital until I come to escort you home.”
A sigh escaped her lips. “Fine. I can do that.”
The tension in his shoulders relaxed a bit. He’d expected more of an argument from her than that.
“Wow, something smells good,” she said as she slipped into their tent.
Billy’s heart raced, blood rushed to his face, and a lump formed in his throat. He could listen to her lilting voice all day. And the very fact that she seemed excited about the food he’d made got him excited in turn. The pot of stew he’d made sat upon the small table at the center of their tent. Two bowls, spoons, napkins were in their places at the chairs. He’d set the table as pretty as he could before heading out to fetch her from the hospital. Now he was kicking himself for taking too long. He should have left good enough alone and gone out sooner.
Facing away from him, Josie grabbed the pins that held what was left of her hair in the bun and shook out the rest. Her long dark hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back. Billy’s stomach twisted at the sight of it. His heart pricked in his chest. When he caught his fingers reaching out to touch her hair, he made a fist and pulled his hand back just before she turned around toward him. Her jovial features made his heart race. “You did all this? You cook?”
He huffed a nervous laugh, the blood still heating his cheeks. “I can cook a few things that my great-aunt taught me. I was the eldest, and my ma died when I was only nine. Papa had me make some meals for my younger brother and help take care of him while he worked.”
Josie nodded, her eyelashes fluttering. “My mother died when I was nine, also. I know what it’s like to have to help with the burden of a family at a young age.”
Billy put his hands behind his back. He’d never been so tempted to hug a woman before. But it would be wholly inappropriate. He might squeeze her too hard and hurt her. Besides their marriage was a fake one. This was a job. He was just her bodyguard and caretaker. He shouldn’t hope for anything more. When they got back to Denver, they’d see Judge Hotchkiss right away. He didn’t want to burden her one moment longer than he had to.
He cleared his throat. “I got some bread from the general store since I’m not much of a baker, but I made the ham and potato stew myself. It’s not much, but let’s eat.”
“It’s more than I could have hoped for. Thank you,” she said with a wide smile as she took a seat.
Billy was in so much trouble. He was liking the job of taking care of Josie way too much. He liked cooking for her, escorting her, listening to her voice, looking into her pretty blue eyes. They were darker than his own or his brother or pa’s—like sapphires. And when she smiled at him, it about did him in. His heart broke whenever he thought about going back to Denver and letting all of this go. As he dished out the stew into both bowls, he determined that he wouldn’t think about it again. For now, he would just bask in the glow from this pretty lady and pretend that he could freeze time and live in this moment forever.
Josie
The food was delicious, and Josie was more than a little pleasantly surprised that Billy was such a good cook. His great-aunt had taught him well. When the meal was over, Billy stood to clear the dishes. Josie reached out. “I could do that.”
He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “Nonsense. You’re doing all you can to make sure the patients are well. I can at least take care of the meals and make sure things are straight around here as well as escorting you back and forth from the hospital.”
A frown tugged at Josie’s lip. “I’m not asking you to be my slave, Billy.”
Her own heart fluttered at the familiarity of saying his given name only. But Mr. Gordon had said that it would be better if they used it and grew more familiar with each other so that they at least put on a good appearance as a married couple for those in the camp. She swallowed hard as he shook his head.
“I’m not a slave. I like taking care of others. I took care of my brother and my father while I was too young to work myself. Once I could work, I became a fireman and helped support my family. This is my way of supporting you while you work.” He brushed off his hands. “Now. Once I’m done with this, I’m going to spend a few hours at the saloon.”
Josie’s heart dropped. She’d never been to a saloon herself, but she understood them to be rough places where gambling and alcohol ruled and where saloon girls liked to make mischief with men, regardless of whether they were married or not. She swallowed hard and bit her tongue. What could she possibly say that would stop him?
However, when his gaze met hers, his face softened even more. “It’s not like that, Josie. I am not going there for a good time. We still have a case to solve here in Camp Verde, don’t forget. While you’re talking to patients each day and seeing if you can find information about the uprising, I’ll be talking to the miners and soldiers in the saloon. It will help us get talking to everyone in town who might be involved.”
Relief flooded her as her stiffened spine relaxed. “Of course.”
Unfortunately, she hadn’t thought about talking to the patients about much more than their symptoms and solving the mystery of what might be ailing them and what might be the best treatment. She felt bad for forgetting that she was no longer just a doctor but also an agent of the Pinkertons.
“Also,” Billy said as he rubbed the back of his neck and his ears turned a bit red at the tips. “I’m a bit of a snorer. Luckily this tent has two cots in it, but I don’t want to stop you from being able to get to sleep well. It would be best if you went on to sleep while I went out and did some questioning. Then when I get back, I’ll get some rest, too.”
Josie nodded. She had to admit she was very tired. Though she was quite used to snoring after dealing with her father’s snores on the trip and the fact that her father often fell asleep in chairs and on sofas, it wasn’t something she was unaccustomed to. However, she blushed at the thought of telling Billy that. She fanned herself as the heat rose to her face. It just seemed too intimate to talk about their sleeping arrangements in any more detail.
Billy soon left for the saloon, and Josie found herself alone in the small tent space. There were only two cots, a wood stove with a pipe that went out through the back of the tent and the table with chairs. Josie’s steamer trunk sat at the end of one of the beds, while Billy’s travel bag sat at the foot of the other. She’d never slept in such close quarters with a man other than her father. She had to admit that Billy was certainly chivalrous and cunning. He’d made sure to let her alone while getting ready for bed, likely knowing that this would have been an uncomfortable situation.
If Billy was nothing else, he was certainly a perfect gentleman and caring individual. What would it like to actually be married to a man like him? Sweat beaded on her brow at the thought, and she reached for her kerchief to swipe it away. They were already married. Though it was just for the mission—pretend, even—and upon their return they’d get an annulment, Josie couldn’t help but wonder how things would turn out if they just remained as they were... man and wife.
Her heart thundered in her ears and beat against her breastbone. Could she truly ask
for a better man to be her husband? Was there anything that Billy Hogge was lacking? She couldn’t see anything that he was missing. He was kind, generous, caring, humble, and awfully strong. He made her feel warm inside, right down to her toes. When he smiled and flashed the one dimple that remained hidden otherwise, her heart refused to behave. If she didn’t know any better, she’d believe she was falling in love with Mr. Billy Hogge.
Slowly, she let out the breath she’d been holding. The only problem was that Billy didn’t seem the least bit interested in her. She wasn’t much more than a burden to him. No one would ever compliment her as a good wife. Wifely duties, such as cooking and cleaning, were things she’d never excelled at. She couldn’t see one thing Billy had to gain from taking her on as wife. He cooked, he cleaned, and he had a career that he loved. He truly was perfect, and she had nothing to offer him.
Her heart broke at the thought, and tears stung the backs of her eyes. It would behoove her to stop entertaining childish fancy and to concentrate on the reason they had come. Tomorrow, she would think not only of helping her patients but also of finding out about the uprising. In the meantime, she’d do what she could to stop being such a burden on the man who was stealing her heart.
Chapter 9
Billy
Normally, Billy did not drink alcohol at all when he was on the case. And that night, he did his best to avoid any spirits, but when he’d gotten to talking to the miners who were drinking and carrying on at the bar in the saloon, they too easily took notice of his abstinence. In order to keep from rousing their suspicion, he’d had to drink two shots of whiskey.
Now as he stumbled a bit heading back to his tent for the night, he regretted that action. Those miners had not one bit of information on the potential uprising. They were more interested in talking about the saloon girls in various state of undress and of how much they hated the boss at the mine. When Billy had tried to steer the conversation toward the local Indian tribes, the miners had looked at him like he’d sprung a second head.