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She’d been so set to argue that it took a minute for his words to sink in. Then her shoulder slumped and her brown eyes clouded. “You’re sayin’ he...he might not walk again?”
“That’s right.”
She swallowed.
“I’ve seen this type of injury before when I worked for the railroad. I know what to do. You will have to trust me.”
The war going on inside her was evident on her face. She wanted to protect her son from further hurt—that was what her gut told her. And she didn’t know whether he was skilled or not. Her bottom lip trembled. “You’ll make it so he walks again?”
“I’ll do my best.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes.
“Ma?”
She met her son’s gaze. “We got to trust the doc, Tommy. You hold on to my hand tight. I’m right here.” She looked up at Nelson and nodded, her expression resolute.
Nelson finished his preparations.
“Hold him,” he said to Miss Marks.
She set her jaw and then lay across her son, gripping his leg to hold him still.
He made the first stitch.
Tommy tensed and yelled out.
Nelson had done this procedure on grown men. Never on a young boy with his mother looking on. If he messed up, there was the chance he might sentence the boy to being a cripple the rest of his life. That thought made him extremely careful.
When he was done, he glanced up to see how Tommy had weathered the treatment and found Miss Marks watching him intently. Her face was pale, but no less determined than it had been earlier. “Get me another bandage.”
She scrambled to her feet.
“You did well,” he told the boy. “I’m all finished except for wrapping it up.”
Tommy didn’t answer, but he relaxed his jaw. Sweat beaded his upper lip.
“How are you feeling?” Nelson asked.
Tommy let out a shaky breath but still didn’t answer.
Of course, the boy still hurt. “You did well,” Nelson said again. “I’ve had grown men who didn’t handle stitches as bravely as you.”
Miss Marks returned with what appeared to be clean rags and a small jar of honey.
He took the rags and wrapped the ankle. “You can get him a blanket now. Keep him here by the fire for the next few days. He needs lots of rest. Nothing appears to be broken. It’s probably a bad sprain. I’ll know more in a few days, once the swelling has gone down and the wound has a chance to bind together.”
“Then...he’ll be all right?”
He nodded. “Young boys are resilient about such things.”
A ragged breath shuddered out of her. She sank to her knees beside her son. “Ya hear that? You’re going to be all right, Tommy.” A tear trickled down her cheek.
“What are you cryin’ for, Ma?”
She cupped the boy’s jaw with her palm. “I’m happy. That’s all. You heard what the doctor said. You rest now.”
Nelson squirmed. Such an outpouring of love was something he’d never experienced with his own mother. He turned away, clearing his throat.
At the sound, Miss Marks rose to her feet. “You look piqued, Doc. I’ll get you some water.”
He hadn’t realized he was thirsty until she said something. “Thank you.”
She also filled a glass for her son and handed it to Tommy first. Then she set a full glass on the table for Nelson.
“Now you know why I had to make you come.”
“At gunpoint,” he said, glancing pointedly at the gun still lying on the table.
“You wouldn’t have come otherwise.”
“You didn’t give me a choice.”
“I had to know Tommy would be all right. I couldn’t get him to wake up.”
Something stirred inside Nelson. “You should have sent someone. It was dangerous for you to leave your son alone.”
Her expression crumpled. “Like you, I didn’t have a choice either.”
He looked away—anywhere but at her. Female sentiment shook him up more than he cared. Female hysteria unhinged him. Give him a man to doctor any day. A man who would keep his feelings in check.
He looked about the cabin. Two chairs, a table, a fireplace. A curtained-off doorway, likely one that led to a small bedroom for her. She had so few things. There was nothing he could see that was not essential—no pictures on the walls. How long had she lived here on her own with her son? He wanted to ask but held the question back. It was best that he not get involved with that part of her life. He should keep a professional distance, keep things objective.
As he pondered this, Miss Marks moved back to her son. She crouched down and lovingly swept the shock of dark blond hair from his forehead. The ministration, and the look that passed from her to her son, spoke volumes. As did the calm adoration in her son’s eyes for her. This woman might not have pictures on her walls or fancy clothes, but she had what was most important in life. It was something he had never had.
He measured the darkness visible at the edges of the oilcloth covering the window. Dawn wouldn’t arrive for several hours. The woman looked exhausted. He should offer to sit up with the boy and let her rest. He wouldn’t be fresh to call on Miss Vandersohn in the morning, but that seemed inconsequential now. That decision seemed like a year ago—the bright celebration at the town hall last evening a far cry from this dark, dank soddy.
She placed another chip of dried dung on the small fire, then stirred the ashes with a poker. A small, steady flame sputtered up and took hold. “I’ll take you back as soon as it’s light, Doc.”
“Then you’d better get some rest. I’ll sit up with your son.”
Tommy was already falling asleep. She stood and, with her fist to the small of her back, arched her body in a quick stretch. The firelight flared, the light revealing dark smudges beneath her eyes. “I’ll be taking care of my own.”
“After all this, you still don’t trust me? Not even a little?”
She raised her chin.
He let out a tired sigh and sat down on a chair, his back to the wall. “All right. Then we’ll both stay up with him.”
She plopped down in the only other chair available and stared at the fire in the hearth.
It came as a bit of a surprise that he was warm—warmer than he would be at his fancy two-story house in town, where the wind whistled and made the boards creak. Here, there were no cracks or knotholes for the breeze to pass through. Whoever had built this home had done a decent job with the materials at hand.
Before long, her breathing became deep and even. Her eyes drifted close as she slid slowly and surely to rest her head in the crook of her arm on the table.
He moved the gun out from under her elbow and took a moment to consider her. She must be somewhere around twenty-five by her unlined face and the lack of gray in her dark brown hair. Her skin was smooth and pale. He liked the slight upturn of her nose at the end. Considering the flash in her eyes when he mentioned the catgut, the shape of her nose went along well with her stubbornness. Unguarded like this, with her frown replaced by a peaceful expression, she was...attractive. Immediately, he looked away. She was just a young and determined mother. That was all. And, annoying as it had been to be kidnapped, he admired her spunk and her devotion to her son. To notice anything more about her was...unsettling. He pushed the thought away and settled back in his chair to keep watch the rest of the night.
Chapter Seven (#u2b605589-4784-5693-9046-c9e67cd2ee38)
She woke with a start to the daylight streaming through the windowpanes and her cheek mashed against the table. Her entire body ached from sitting in the chair through the night.
Across from her, Doc Graham slept with his head cushioned by his arm. The other arm was stretched most of the way across the table. His dark hair, longer on top than on the sides, flopped over his face with just enough wave in it to make him appear boyish in his sleep. A coarse, dark stubble had grown on his jaw overnight.
She shook the remaining cobwebs from her mind, stood, stretched briefly and then crouched down to check on Tommy. His breathing was even and deep. He slept. Peacefully. She peeled back the cover over his feet to check his bandage. It still looked fresh. Why hadn’t the doc wanted to use her honey? Didn’t he know it was good for cuts and such? And Tommy’s cut was the biggest she’d ever seen. She’d make sure to add some when she changed the bandage later, after she returned from taking the doctor home. She put Tommy’s cover back on and stood.
The doc had done his part. Tommy was healing. The least she could do was offer him breakfast before taking him back to town. She sure didn’t have any money to pay him for his doctorin’. Didn’t even have any eggs to send with him! She filled the tin pot with water from the pitcher and threw in two handfuls of chicory. Then she hung the pot on the hook and swung it over the hearth. She set another chip on the fire and stirred up the ashes.
Quiet as a mouse, she slipped outside to see to her needs and those of her animals. An inch of new snow had fallen during the night and the air was crisp with the tang of winter’s end. In the shed, she gave Berta a measure of oats, checked on her sheep and milked her goat. Then she walked to the chicken coop and gathered the eggs. Seven eggs—that was plenty for the three of them and the number was a good sign. She carried the pail and basket back to the house.
When she walked through the door, the doc was crouched over Tommy.
“Is he all right?” she asked quickly.
“He might have some dizziness for a few days.”
She knelt before the hearth. “I’ll have breakfast for you directly.” She pushed the iron skillet closer to the hearth. “Then I’ll take you back to town.”
She heard the door close behind her. Had he left? Was he walking back to town? She jumped to her feet and rushed to the window. He stood in the middle of the yard and stretched. My, but he was a tall man! Much bigger than Thomas had been.
She took in the yard, trying to see it through his eyes. It was always a bit muddy and dreary this time of year. Only the hardiest of weeds had gotten a start in the dirt. At least last night’s snow covered most of it and made the yard look clean. She let out a sigh. It wasn’t much to look at. Not when compared to the fine houses in town. Each new house that was built in Oak Grove looked bigger and finer than the last.
Well, it was all she could do to keep the place running as it was. There was no time for prettying up things. But it was her place. Hers and Tommy’s and built by his father. And that meant something. She wasn’t going to apologize for it.
He headed for the rain barrel on the far side of the cabin, moving with a measured steadiness that had a way of calming a person. He leaned over and splashed water on his face. His gasp and quick shudder at the coldness amused her. The man probably had someone warm his water at home—straight from a pot on a fancy stove. Well, he would just have to forego that kind of coddling here.
She couldn’t seem to hold back from stealing one more glance. If coddling made a man weak, like Carl had said, the doc didn’t look weak in the least. His shoulders were broad as a barn door and his linen shirt stretched over them in a manner that made butterflies suddenly swarm in her tummy. He looked full of health...full of vigor. Her cheeks warmed at the thought. It had been a long time since she’d noticed a man’s qualities.
When he stepped inside the privy, she pulled away from the window, not wanting to puzzle out why she had stood there watching him for a spell when she had so much to do. Not wanting to decipher that at all. She moved back to awaken Tommy and help him with his morning needs.
The doc strode through the door and stopped when he saw the spread on the table. Coffee, fried eggs, toast and jam. She fixed a plate for him and set it across the table. Then she fixed another plate for Tommy and gave it to him there on his pallet. Last, she fixed one for herself.
He waited for her to sit down, like a gentleman. She said grace, adding at the end how grateful she was for Tommy feeling better and for the doctor’s skill. Then the man waited for her to take a bite of food.
“It’ll get cold fast, Doc. Eat up.” She was awkward with his ways. The last person who sat at the table with her, besides her son, was Tommy’s father and he’d not been one to wait on her to start eating first.
“This is every bit as good as the breakfast I get at the restaurant in town,” he said, after a few bites.
“Can’t mess up eggs and toast, Doc,” she said, amused.
He gave a derisive snort.
“You mean you can’t cook a simple thing like this?” The thought struck her as comical. “Didn’t you learn growin’ up?”
He shrugged. “I’ve always had someone cook for me. I take my meals at the restaurant, often with Mayor Melbourne. Sometimes the sheriff joins us. It gives me a chance to catch up on what is happening in town. Things like kidnappings and such.” He added the last smoothly.
She pulled a sharp breath. She hadn’t thought through what would happen next after forcing him here. If he went to the sheriff...
She put down her fork, no longer hungry. All she’d done to get him here...was wrong. She was ashamed she couldn’t pay the doc like most folks and instead had to go and do such a terrible thing. It couldn’t be helped, she told herself for the tenth time since Tommy had hurt himself yesterday. She’d do it again if she had to. But Tommy was innocent in all of it and she didn’t want him sharing in the burden of the guilt she now carried.
She stole a glance at her son. He was done eating and had lain back down. His eyes were closed, but his breathing wasn’t the deep, even breathing of someone who was asleep. Most likely he was listening to all that was being said. She didn’t want Tommy hearing what she’d done.
Doc Graham leaned back in his chair and studied her.
Her gut knotted. It was like he knew the predicament he’d put her in by his words. Guess she’d better say something despite Tommy. The doc deserved that after all he’d done. She couldn’t look him in the eye, so she stared at her plate. “I’m sorry for the way things happened last night. I—I guess I panicked some. I was afraid if you knew I couldn’t pay you, that you wouldn’t help Tommy. I just didn’t know any other way to make you come here.”
“All you had to do was ask.”
His soft words struck right to her core. She drew in a sharp breath, feeling even more remorseful.
“I take my oath seriously, payment or no payment, although a hearty breakfast eases the lack of coin immensely. While I was learning medical skills, you were obviously learning to cook.”
He liked her cooking? The tightness inside her eased. Slowly, she raised her gaze. He was sopping up the yolk with his toast and appeared to be enjoying the meal immensely.
“Seems a man who can’t cook should hire one,” she said cautiously. “That’d be the smart thing. Then maybe he wouldn’t be out in the evening and getting himself caught up like a rabbit in a snare. Ain’t nothing good that happens after the sun goes down.”
Did his eyes just twinkle?
“Odd you should mention that. Those were my exact thoughts. The celebration going on at the new town hall was to welcome a handful of women from back East. They came to marry. I hope to take one of them as my wife, thereby solving my problem of lack of a cook.”
“Can’t believe a woman would come so far just to marry a man. What if she ends up with a lout?” Carl came to mind. Anyone who ended up with him was in for a rough time of it.
Then she realized that she’d as much as called the doc a lout. “Not that you are a lout, Doc.”
He flashed a grin. “I’ve been informed that I would be impossible to live with. That I am married to my work.”
Her astonishment must have showed on her face. His eyes twinkled—again! “You mean a woman said that straight to your face? In my mind, a man who takes his work seriously is a good thing.”
“She said it right after I’d missed our third social engagement at the opera house in Boston. A patient was in need of my medical skills. Josephine called off the courtship that night. Looking back, it was smart—a practical response. At that time, I didn’t have time for a wife or a family. And she was correct. I did put my career ahead of everything else.”
She thought about Tommy. “Well! There are some who would appreciate that quality in a man. I surely would.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment but studied her silently.
Her cheeks heated. Guess the conversation was getting a mite personal. She finished her toast in one dry mouthful.
“Doc, you could easily get tricked and end up married to a woman who can’t cook but one thing. Or you could end up with a nag. A woman wanting to marry might not show you that part of herself until after the vows are said.”
“True. It is a risk—for me as well as the woman.”
