Healing Hearts (Easton Series #2) Page 4

  “You’re kind. I knew I’d like you when I heard all the talk about a lady doctor.”

  “Thank you.”

  Nelda Rose pursed her lips. “You know, folks wonder why Doctor Rutherford never married. He’d make a good catch.”

  Hannah shook her head and laughed. If only Nelda Rose knew. To Hannah the reason for Jed’s bachelor status was as plain as the growing bump on Nelda’s belly. She smiled and turned back to the circle of women.

  Chapter 5

  Jed soon tired of the attention showered on Hannah in the churchyard, and the crowd chatter was bringing on a headache. He angled to push her home, but now Roy Easton was a bull standing in his path.

  The sheriff sported a smug grin, and that meant only one thing: He was wearing his meddling badge.

  “Make her your calico partner. You’ll find none better.”

  “What?” Jed reeled as if hit by a lightning bolt, yet somewhere inside he knew the man was right. She’d be perfect if he wasn’t flawed. Hell, the nightmares alone prevented him from taking a mate.

  “Marry up with the woman. You could sleep in your own bed again. The whole town’s talking about it.” He swept a hand toward the crowd. “You’re nearly her equal, even with your bad temper.” Easton’s smile was bright enough to blind a man.

  Jed looked over Roy’s shoulder. Easton had seen him lose his temper on two occasions, and he wasn’t about to give him a show now. “I don’t believe the damn town is flapping about my business,” he bit off, “and I don’t see you rushing to tie the knot, Easton.”

  The sheriff laughed. “My prospective brides backed down when they saw the living quarters I offered in cell number one.” He nodded in the direction of his jailhouse home down the street.

  “I suppose it could be a fly in the ointment,” muttered Jed, “but a real man doesn’t let present circumstance get in the way of family duty.”

  The lawnman’s blue eyes pierced his straight on. “Why is it you docs don’t take your own good advice?”

  Jed touched the brim of his Stetson. “Too busy handing it out, I reckon.”

  “Hmmm.” The lawman frowned.

  Jed fished for a new topic. “So, Easton, I hear you’re busy as a bee in clover these days.”

  “You hear right. I’m running the jailhouse AND the newspaper, at least until Elijah heals from the beating. And, starting tomorrow, I’m trading in my gun belt for a switch while Geneva goes on her honeymoon.”

  “Doesn’t that beat all! You’ll cut a figure as schoolmarm.”

  Roy grunted. “My title is headmaster, but yes, I’m teaching for the week.”

  “Who’s the sheriff while you’re spitting ink at the young ‘uns?”

  “Doc, I give you the lookout. Let Miss Hannah do the doctoring. If outlaws show up, haul ‘em over, and I’ll take care of ‘em. Heck, I’ll lock them in the cloak room.” He grinned.

  Jed chuckled and wagged his head. “You earn your pay, Easton. As for Elijah, he was much improved when I checked on him yesterday, but the man needs to exercise discretion in his business.”

  “Elijah says discretion doesn’t sell papers.”

  “Hawking gossip will get him killed.”

  “Likely.” Easton hitched a thumb on his gun belt. “He’s all up about freedom of speech.”

  “Free speech allows Elijah to make a fool of himself.”

  “Likely,” the sheriff nodded.

  Out of the corner of his eye Jed saw two young men converging on Hannah. “Excuse me. I’ve got a business interest to save.” He struck out in her direction.

  Roy guffawed. “You do that, Jed.” He tugged his hat as dismissal. “You do that.”

  They parted, and Jed thought about Roy’s words. Hannah was a woman who didn’t want marriage, or so it seemed from her talk and actions, and although the woman had presented a puzzling case, it suited him just fine.

  Jed had noted Hannah’s stiff gait in the mornings. She kept their discussions confined to business or household matters, and as a consequence they’d discussed everything about the practice, from the use of dry and wet dressings to disinfectants and antiseptics like carbolic acid and bromine. He’d been treated to a strange emotional outburst when they discussed the use of ether and chloroform. She’d said ether scared her, because it was flammable, and she made repeated mention of Squibb’s ether factory explosion.

  Jed recalled her general store purchase of a length of rope, to use in case of a house fire. Hannah had indicated a preference for a first floor bedroom, but it wasn’t possible, unless she slept in the surgery, so she’d settled on the rope solution, which she tied to the bed frame so it was ready to use if she had to make a window escape.

  The conclusion was obvious: Hannah Sutton was deathly afraid of fire. It was her only phobia, if one didn’t count men and marriage, Jed thought as he eyed her blushing and edging away from the two young bucks chatting her up at this moment.

  As he hoofed his way to save Hannah from the jawing, he caught her eye and motioned for her to come over. From twenty paces he could see her heavy sigh of relief.

  Jed decided he needed to know more of her, if only to better understand her philosophy and approach to handling patients. At least that’s what he told himself.

  “Doctor Hannah, are you ready to go home?”

  She smiled readily, with eyes to undo a lesser man. “Oh yes, I’m ready to go. I didn’t finish rolling bandages yesterday.”

  Once again, Jed offered his arm, and they waved and shouted “goodbye” to the gregarious wedding party.

  In silence, they walked the too-narrow path to the street. Jed edged into the grass to give Hannah room to move in her full skirt. Their strides became more leisurely as they put more distance between themselves and the joyous fracas. He caught her studying the clapboard buildings and a posse of miners loitering outside the general store, the older ones carrying hunched shoulders and bent backs from years of work inside the earth. They doffed their hats respectfully and stared as Hannah walked by.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to fending off the cowpunchers,” Jed murmured.

  “They were nice men, just not accustomed to seeing many single women, I suppose.”

  “You let me know if any of them give you trouble.” His voice was low and hoarse.

  She quickened her step. “Oh, I don’t expect trouble.”

  “So . . . what made you decide to become a doctor?” He threw the question out casually.

  She hesitated a moment, glaring at a tree along the path as though he were asking a mule-foolish question. His anticipation hung on the warm breeze, and he was on the verge of saying “never mind” when she took a deep breath and shot out her response. “A doctor helped my family, and I wanted to be like him. I wanted to help people, especially sick and injured people. There’s nothing finer than curing illness.”

  “You had a great inspiration for your aspiration,” he observed.

  “Yes, and it became my passion.” There was a genuine glow about her face. “Seeing as you asked me, I think it’s fair to turn the table. Why did you become a doctor, Jed?”

  “My father’s brother, my uncle, was a doctor. I assisted him, starting when I was ten years old. He taught me everything he knew, and I continued with formal training as I grew.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Sawing off limbs in the war wasn’t lucky,” he spit out impulsively. Checking his outburst, he set his jaw, and himself, back on course: “I imagine it wasn’t easy for you to get into medical college.”

  Hannah peered into his blue eyes. “It wasn’t, but my father fought that battle right along with me. It was us-against-them, and we never quit.” Her tone was reverential and resolute as she continued, “I understand your work during the war was truly difficult, and I greatly admire your courage in persevering.”

  He bristled under the praise. He hadn’t shown courage. What was there to say without revealing deeply distressing images and emotions? Better not to t
hink about it, much less talk about it.

  “Tell me about Nelda Rose Hawkins.”

  “Ah, Nelda Rose,” he sighed, relieved to move back onto firmer footing, “she’s pregnant again, and everyone prays for the best for her and John.”

  “She grew up here?”

  “No. John came out to work as a cowpuncher, years ago. When his father died he came into an inheritance, and he bought the hotel. He sent for Nelda Rose, his cousin, to marry.”

  “She’s his first cousin?”

  “No. Second cousin and removed. If you’re thinking –“

  “I was, but it should be of no consequence,” Hannah stated firmly.

  “I agree.”

  “She’s asked me to birth her child,” Hannah confessed, “and I couldn’t bring myself to tell her you want me to leave next week. Couldn’t I stay another month? I think she needs me, if only to give her some peace of mind.”

  They halted at the door to Jed’s house, and his hands dove into his pockets. He wrapped his fingers around the small scalpel still hidden there. Jed wasn’t a man easily offended, and he understood Nelda’s need to believe in a new savior. It made perfect sense; like it or not, his presence would be a reminder of her past birthing tragedies.

  “Jed?” She turned to face him, holding her breath. “I think Nelda Rose should have her say in this matter.”

  He shifted his gaze down to Hannah’s lovely, inquisitive gray eyes, and he gave a long slow nod. “Until the baby comes.”

  Hannah exhaled and threw her arms around his broad shoulders. Her excitement was simple and heartfelt, and her hug was warm and penetrated him more deeply than he could afford.

  Chapter 6

  He cried out in the night.

  Hannah bolted up in the bed. Was it an animal howling outside her window?

  Then a deep voice shouted out a slurring, rapid-fire bark. The words weren’t decipherable, but the tone was clearly fearful. A warning.

  Oh my God, she thought, the house must be on fire! Struggling to force the past back into the recesses of her mind, Hannah threw off the covers, shoved her bare feet into her shoes, and flew down the stairs, guided by the light of a half-moon shining through the windows.

  She made her way to the kitchen. Thank goodness she didn’t smell smoke or see anything ablaze. Yet, as one apprehension melted away, another, nearly as terrifying, reached out to assault her. Rutherford was shaking and coughing atop the small cot, his night terror permeating the air. Hannah mustered every muscle and bone she possessed to suppress the instinct to flee from a wild man in the dark.

  His arms had thrown off the blankets, and now they flailed like two windmills. “Get down! Sharpshooters!” He struck her soundly across the cheek as she leaned down to calm him.

  The blow threw Hannah to the hard floor. Shuddering, she pulled herself up and pressed her hands into fists. Next time he smacked her she’d fight back.

  “Doctor, you’re having a nightmare,” she shouted over his ranting. Bent over the cot once more, she ignored the pain stabbing the left side of her face.

  Jed seized her before she could jump away from the bedside. He wrapped his sure fingers round her upper arms and pulled her close, into his tight embrace. “Play dead,” he choked.

  His words churned in her gut. She had to lead him away from his demons. “Yes, I understand, sir. They’re gone now. The enemy is retreating.”

  “Don’t take the grays lightly, corporal! Skirmishers will get you easy from a hundred yards.”

  His grip on her arms was solid, determined. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

  “True enough, sir, but we’re safe behind this rock. Oh look, sir! Our scout is here with a report. They’ve retreated. This area is clearing!”

  “Good, good. Morphine,” he mumbled.

  “We have enough, sir.”

  Jed’s grasp on her arms eased, and Hannah pulled away from hiss madness. He was whispering, and she could no longer make out his words, only the tone of his voice. He was soaked in sweat, and his breathing was labored.

  “Calm yourself, sir. You’re safe here.” She ran her fingers through his hair, touching his scalp. Her nervous hands searched out a dishtowel on the table, and she wiped his brow.

  Jed extended a clammy arm. “Hold my hand.”

  She wrapped her fingers firmly, trying not to think about how the warmth of his hand travelled up her arm and settled in a place dangerously close to her heart.

  He needed distraction. She hummed a soft lullaby from her childhood, one she sang to sick children.

  Jed calmed, and she felt him peering at her in the dark. After a few minutes he spoke.

  “I’m fine. Go back to bed, Hannah.” He slipped his hand from hers and rolled to face the wall.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” His voice was a dull thud.

  “All right. Good night, sir.”

  Hannah slipped from him, climbed the stairs, and tried to sleep. After frustrating minutes of fitful tossing and turning she rose and dressed. Her face hurt and her mind was spinning as she processed what she’d seen and heard. Lighting a lantern, she crossed to the large bureau and opened the bottom drawer. She’d seen the journal many times, while arranging her clothes in the drawers, but she’d let it lie.

  Until now. Now, she needed to know. Knowledge was the key to treating the whole patient, wasn’t it?

  Her lithe fingers opened his medical journal, and her eyes filled with somber notes about cases he’d seen during the war. Symptoms, treatments, and results were listed under patient names. Fascinating and informative, Hannah couldn’t put the book down. Reading between the lines of his observations, she found Jed’s fear and frustration. Scurvy. We have not fresh vegetables, read one shaky entry. Another day’s account was so terrible and shattering she had to skip over details. A man Jed had treated survived the amputation of his legs, only to die two weeks later of pneumonia, and within sight of his childhood home.

  Hannah skimmed, reading between the lines, to find what she was seeking: hints of Jed’s own illness, his depression and experimentation with drugs. He was there, listed as “Patient X”, along with a history of night terrors, sweats, and his pursuit of a remedy. He used whiskey, ether, opiates. Hannah rushed through the pages to find further references to “X”. It seemed he’d treated the symptoms, but the disease wore on in spite of his best efforts. Not sure I’ll make it back to Mariah, he scrawled in a margin, I’m living in hell on earth.

  The scribbles ripped at Hannah’s heart.

  She put the journal away when tears began to blur the anguished words. She understood the horrors that never leave a person. It would take a long time for him to heal, as it had for her.

  In this strange new place one thing was now clear: Dr. Cole had neglected to tell her about her most challenging case.

  Chapter 7

  Morning brought the bitterness of harsh reality, and Jed felt like he’d walked fifty miles between dusk and dawn. Clouds of melancholy floated in his coffee cup, and his despair brewed. Another man would have disappeared into the darkness, but he reckoned he’d be rid of this woman soon enough.

  Not a word passed between them until Hannah settled the stack of pancakes on the table. “More coffee?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  He glanced up and swallowed. A purple bruise spread across her ivory cheekbone. Her eyes were red and swollen, as if she’d been crying.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Now you understand why I needed a male partner?” He thrust a hand through his dark hair. He wanted her to leave him to his personal hell, as he had no right to claim the affection and companionship of a woman. Not Hannah, not anyone. The last thing he needed was a female to arouse his lust and rekindle dreams long since set aside. God hadn’t made a woman strong enough to bond with a broken soldier. Yet here she was, pretty and intelligent and useful, and she worked without complaint. Making matters worse, he’d just received a letter from his mother, in which she d
escribed Mariah’s recent marriage. Pain had slashed through him upon reading the news. Somewhere back east, Mariah was lying in the arms of another man. Damnation.

  Hannah’s mouth tightened into a hard line as she scurried to take her place in the chair across from him.

  “Sir, you needn’t worry about my discretion. And, as a doctor I judge none for the infirmities of war or nature.”

  “Of course, of course. You took an oath.”

  “As did you, sir.”

  She slid butter across the cakes she’d forked onto her plate. “And I’m not prone to pity, as I never wanted it for myself.”

  He arched one dark eyebrow. “Why would you invoke pity in anyone?”

  “Um, well, being a woman doctor isn’t easy, for one thing.” She pushed a stray wisp of her soft, thick hair behind an ear.

  “Have you gotten anything but respect here?”

  She shrugged one shoulder and dodged his question. “Have you ever had a sweetheart?”

  He was taken aback. “That’s no concern of yours.”

  “If you had a special someone or something, and then lost her, well, you’d understand me.” She bit off the end of a sausage. “I think you loved someone once.” Her gray eyes misted and rolled over his face like satin as she chewed.

  His neck felt hot. He didn’t know what possessed him, but he reached across the table and touched her hand. “I’m sorry. You lost your man in the war?”

  Her eyes fell down to her food. She set down her knife and fork and wiped her eyes.

  “No.” She paused. “I lost my beau to my younger sister. My parents said she was better suited for marriage. They were right, of course, but --”

  “What?” Jed’s jaw dropped, and he wondered, what kind of parents dismissed a sweet daughter’s dreams like so much chaff blown into the wind? He clenched his hands and fumed.

  She stared over his shoulder. “I still have the chance to share a dream. Don’t you see? I can’t be a wife, but this life is about doing good work. It’s about clobbering disease and suffering. We have our flaws, but we save lives. We bring life. We give people dignity in death.”