Healing Hearts (Easton Series #2) Page 6

  He had a nagging suspicion, and he couldn’t help himself. He had to confirm his blind diagnosis. Tiptoeing to the arch separating the kitchen from the hallway, he peered into the dim light. Hannah’s wet head, was tipped back, her eyes shut as she savored the warmth of her bath. The lavender-permeated the moist air, heated by the stove, settled like a warm blanket around him. Jed breathed in the sensual scene, with a careful, deep breath, so as not to be discovered.

  As his mouth watered inexplicably, Hannah rose and stepped out of the tub. Jed took in a heart-slamming view, as his eyes travelled down her torso: White shoulders, firm breasts, flat abdomen, and a small waist curved into lovely hips. His lust and arousal drove him to stare openly, and his gaze might have stopped at the place of most interest to a man who hadn’t had a woman in two years, but something oddly misshapen caught his eye further down, on her legs.

  His mouth opened slightly when he saw the scars trickling down the front of her left thigh and leg, like melted candlewax. Burnt flesh.

  Jed swallowed and rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth to suppress a choke. Hannah’s secret stood naked in the glimmering twilight, her mysteries stripped in the blink of an eye: Her fear of fire, her frantic reaction when he’d attempted to lift her skirt during his cursory examination earlier that day, and the curious way she avoided attention from men. Her childhood trauma was raw and heart-wrenching, and she or someone else -- likely her parents -- had turned what they perceived to be a lack of wholeness into a contradictory sentence of limitation and liberation. The one thing she seemingly wasn’t allowed, marriage, had freed her to pursue what other women were denied: Education and profession.

  Like him, she was permanently scarred, but she carried it silently, and with dignity. Thinking about her strength and humility, coupled with the burning desire in his groin, Jed felt shame. As he had no way to stop this bleeding, he hurried back to the parlor.

  Chapter 10

  Hannah poured cream over her sunrise and huckleberry-dappled oatmeal. Gazing out the window, she could see pink light pushing streaks across the lonesome starlit prairie. A coyote howled in the distance.

  She arched an eyebrow at the man she barely recognized across the breach of table. His usual frosty demeanor had melted away sometime during his bath the previous evening. He’d asked twice if she’d be able to sleep, and then he’d come up to give her an extra blanket – the first time he’d entered his bedroom since it became her territory.

  Now he leaned closer to her when speaking, as if there were more familial intimacy between them. Was the surge of kindness due to the terrible death she’d witnessed at the ranch the previous day?

  This morning his speech was slurred, and his eyes were bloodshot. She suspected he’d taken a nip from the whiskey supplys. Hannah monitored the bottles, and they didn’t appear to be down beyond what she’d dispensed to patients. Yet, he could be hiding a supply . . . or it could be something else. She made a mental note to watch his habits more closely. At least he’d slept through the night without yelling or thrashing. She’d worried he might have night terrors after the death at the ranch. Traumatic amputation was a gruesome injury for any doctor to view, and it no doubt conjured bad memories in a battle-seasoned surgeon like Rutherford.

  Hannah understood well how doctors needed a break from pain and suffering when they weren’t working. Rutherford would send her packing if he knew of her physical inferiority. He saw physical deficits every day, all day long, and he wouldn’t want to see such liability in a partner, not to mention in a spouse, after hours of dealing with it on the job.

  He settled his mug on the table and his blue eyes rested on her. “Nice day,” he observed. His low voice was a caress.

  “New day. Quiet,” she whispered.

  “It will stay that way. Babies arrive during bad weather.”

  She laughed warmly. “It’s the way of it.”

  “Mishaps too.” He was quiet for a moment. “But better weather comes, and patients are made whole again, mostly.”

  She nodded.

  His mouth tightened. “I saw too much death in the field.”

  Her heart lurched, and she yearned to reach out to him. But what could she say to comfort a man harboring so many wounds inside?

  He fell silent for a few seconds. “Yet, scarred men, with lost limbs, went home to loving wives and families, and many have whole lives today. Disfigurement doesn’t keep them from pursuing their dreams.”

  Hannah frowned and stirred her cereal. “It’s easier for a man. Women love men for their character. Men love women for beauty . . . physical perfection.”

  Doctor Rutherford drew a hand through his thick hair and appeared to mull over her words. “The greatest beauty is on the inside. Every man has his own way of considering women. It’s not always what you think.”

  She shrugged a shoulder. Hannah wanted to believe him, but she’d not be swayed by wise words from a man who wanted to impress an underling with his maturity. She had direct experience: Her suitor had ultimately chosen her perfect sister, after he was made aware of her shortcoming.

  He looked away. “Being whole on the outside isn’t what makes a man or woman. It’s how they wrangle with what life throws them.”

  Hannah felt like they were playing shadow tag with such conversation. He must be speaking of his own internal suffering, and she wondered what she could do to stop the torture he endured. She’d be a fool to feel anything for him. She certainly wouldn’t put herself through a romantic rejection again, but maybe she could help him by being his friend.

  Before Hannah could form a reply a sharp knock sounded at the door.

  “I’ll go.” Leaping from her chair, she was relieved to end the odd chat.

  Hannah swung open the door to find sunlight streaming around Roy Easton’s large dark frame.

  “Mr. Easton!”

  Although he was carrying a large package, he managed to doff his hat in a lumbering motion. “Howdy Miss, er, Doc Sutton.”

  “Come in, come in,” Hannah rushed out.

  “Only for a short spell . . . do I smell coffee?” The sheriff grinned.

  “You do. Please, sit with us.”

  He hesitated for appearances sake as he entered the room. “Hello, Doc. I’m just here to make this delivery before I get back to work at the newspaper,” he said as he leaned the large package against the wall. “It came in on the wagon yesterday.”

  “Ah, that has to be the medicine I ordered. Thanks, Easton.” The doctor rose and pumped the sheriff’s hand.

  Hannah quickly pulled a chair down from the wall pegs and set it at right angles to her and Jed at the table. “Sit,” she commanded.

  Easton slid into the offering. “Not yours, Doc. It’s for Doc Hannah.”

  “Oh! It must be from my father. He said he’d send my supplies.” Hannah was as giddy as a schoolgirl on the first day. She rushed to the counter to find a knife to cut the package strings, but then she caught herself and poured a cup of coffee for Mr. Easton. She laughed. “I forget my manners.” After she carried the java to the sheriff she sat beside him. “I can open it later.”

  “Don’t delay on my account, Doctor,” advised the lawman.

  “Oh, I know what’s inside. I can wait.” She sat back down. “How are Cal and the men holding up?”

  The sheriff looked at his hands wrapped around the tin cup. “We hadn’t lost a hand since the range war with Dullen.” He shook his head slowly.

  The room was quiet for a few moments while Hannah rubbed her forehead. “Do tell us,” she finally broke the heavy silence, “how is your work at the schoolhouse?”

  Easton took a sip of brown liquid. “I’m keeping my head above water. You know Latin?”

  Hannah and Jed laughed. “All doctors speak Latin. That’s why our patients don’t understand us,” Jed explained as he wiped his eyes.

  Easton took another shot of the coffee. “Hmmm. That’s good. A man could get used to your ministrations, Doctor Hannah.
” He looked pointedly at Jed. “Truth be told, school lets out early these days, leastwise until Geneva and Ned come back from their honeymoon.”

  Rutherford’s grin edged up. “Easton, you’re too soft. You’ll make Geneva’s job difficult when she returns.”

  “Could be,” Easton replied with a twinkle in his eye, “but, speaking of soft and couples on honeymoon, you both should know folks are set atwitter since I ran the column on our new lady doctor.”

  “Oh?” Red crept up Hannah’s cheeks.

  Jed let out a chuckle. “I’m almost afraid to ask. What’s on the grapevine?”

  The sheriff drained his cup. “The single menfolk agree you should get the first shot at marrying up with Hannah.” He winked at her. “After all, she’s your mail-order. And, at least one old biddy is whispering about you two living in sin out here on the edge of town.”

  Jed slapped a hand to his thigh and let out a hearty guffaw. “That’s a good one.”

  Hannah’s cheeks went from pink to flaming. “I’m here to work! Doc expected a man. He didn’t send for a woman!”

  Easton looked amused at her discomfort. “Yes, ma’am. We all know Doc’s a saint.” He winked. “Look, I’m just telling you what’s going around town. Don’t shoot the town crier.”

  Jed’s broad smile was teasing. “Easton, you better hope you stay healthy.”

  The lawman-schoolmaster-newspaper publisher rose from his chair and sashayed to the door. “I’ve gotta get over to the schoolhouse for the morning roar. Emily is letting the students in.”

  “Right,” Jed mock saluted as Roy Easton hurried out the door.

  As soon as the door slammed behind him Hannah sputtered. “He stirs things up.”

  Jed’s mouth twisted in amusement. “That’s his job. He’s the town meddler. In a small town the only news is petty stuff. You know, who visited whoever last Sunday, who bought a new suit, that sort of thing. You’re a big item in the Wounded Colt press, and Roy will work the angles.”

  “Your defense of Mr. Easton is noble, but it doesn’t make it better.”

  “It will pass. Everyone knows his game, and they play along, except his brother, who fell into Roy’s trap. Cal married the woman Roy set up for him. The rest of us are too smart to be victims of his scheming.”

  “I’d say he did his brother a favor. I met his wife at the wedding, and Sarah’s very nice. What if it doesn’t, sir?”

  “Doesn’t what?”

  “Pass.”

  His hands flew up in the air and he grinned. “I’ll have to marry you,” he teased.

  Hannah laughed. His good humor made one dish of meat into a feast. “Only after a fifty-year courtship, sir.”

  Chapter 11

  Jed was restless as a new colt. He paged through a research tract as he lay on the blanket in the shade of the oak tree. He looked up, and he smiled when he spied Hannah wiping a smudge of charcoal across her cheek. He reveled in watching her openly, as she was rarely distracted from her canvas.

  She gazed down at him. “What are you reading?”

  “Boston Medical and Surgical Journal. It’s a review of Lister’s germ theory of putrefaction.”

  Hannah’s head bobbed eagerly. “Yes, yes. It’s why sanitation is critical.”

  “I agree. But how to prove it? We learned from the bedside during the war, but more work remains to be done in the laboratory.”

  “It’s complex. Cole wants to go to Germany to learn their experimental methods.”

  “To my mind there’s no risk in assuming they exist. We must learn how to avoid and eliminate these germs, as they are quite possibly the cause of diseases.”

  “I’m with you. Forward thinking is best. It must be a cornerstone of our practice.”

  Hannah turned her intensity back into sketching the scene. She didn’t take the wonders of nature for granted.

  He wanted to ask about the scars on her legs, and as a doctor he routinely asked such questions, but now he remembered his mother’s rule: Take care to gaze not on the marks or blemishes of others and ask not how they came. He decided to draw her out with talk of her childhood.

  “When did you learn to draw?”

  She captured the tree outline before looking up. “Since I could hold a pencil, and my father paid for art lessons, but only after I begged for six months running.”

  “You are persistent,” he remarked from his position on the blanket.

  “My mother badgered him to send my art supplies after I wrote her, and I was happy when Roy delivered them. I like to sketch, and then paint. I love landscapes.”

  Jed had, at first, protested against going on the picnic, calling it “utter nonsense”, but she’d prevailed when she packed the cooling chicken into a basket. He’d have no dinner if he’d stayed behind, and he couldn’t let a green woman take a jaunt into the wilderness alone. The whole town would have his hide for neglecting such a duty.

  Now they sat on a grassy hill on a beautiful June day. Bees were buzzing and a jay called out from a high perch in the tree above their nesting place.

  “I can create a world, and escape into it for a while.”

  “Escape?”

  “Work. Worries,” she stared at him with wide eyes. “Everyone needs a pastime. Relaxation.”

  “Yes, everyone should recreate on Sunday.” It pained him to admit his relaxation didn’t come without drugs.

  “Doctor Cole used to say we’re so busy treating others we don’t take time to treat ourselves. I’m doing something for myself. You should, too. Recreations cleanse the soul.”

  “I don’t have such talents.”

  She furrowed a brow. “Everyone has something. Hunting. Fishing. Wood carving.”

  Maybe it was the sun or her carefree manner that compelled him to open up. “I used to play base ball.”

  She quickly scraped her charcoal across the canvas. “When you were a kid?”

  “During the war. Most of the surgeons had more practice at playing ball than treating war wounds. At first.”

  “I like base ball.” She blew lightly on the paper to dismiss charcoal particles. “ A manful recreation. What was your position on the field?”

  “I played the first base.”

  “Oh, lots of action there! Doctor, you should start a town team. It would be something for Easton to write about in the paper, instead of me.”

  “We have a town team.”

  “Then you should play.”

  Jed grunted, lay back on his elbows, and picked up his reading. The sun warmed through his shirt and trousers, and after a spell he dozed off.

  Hannah was sitting on the blanket with him, smiling. She moved closer and pulled the pins from her hair. He suddenly had an insane desire to see her naked.

  “I’d bet you have pretty legs,” he said.

  “You want to see them? I’ll show them to you.”

  Hannah lifted her skirt to her knee. The calves of her legs were slender, sinewy, muscular, and her little feet were adorable.

  Jed couldn’t resist the impulse to touch, and stretched to touch the flesh.

  With a jerk she pulled her dress down.

  “You can look, but not touch!”

  He couldn’t help himself. The need that had triggered his desire was too strong, too impetuous. He seized her around the waist and tried to capture her lips. She wasn’t able to dodge him, and for a moment he felt his chest against Hannah’s firm breasts. For brief seconds he held her lips prisoner, and then her mouth gentled and responded to his, and it was a sensation as hot and blinding as a strike of lightning. She twisted, broke loose of his grasp, and fled into the battlefield.

  Men were everywhere, bloodied and crying out. Hannah stopped and fell to her knees at the side of a young corporal. She yelled back to him. “Get your hand on this artery! The man is bleeding profusely! I can’t see to saw off his leg!”

  “Get some light in here!” Jed was shouting out loud, thrashing and sweating. He woke to Hannah beside him on the blan
ket, yelling back, “I have the light! I’ve got the light, sir!” She was leaning into him, courageously, dodging his flailing arms.

  Jed grabbed her shoulders and brought her against him. “Thank God, you’re here.”

  “You were having a nightmare, sir.”

  Panting and shaking and feeling deep humiliation, Jed held her ferociously to him, as if she were the cure for this terror. Maybe she was, but he wasn’t going to delve into it just then.

  “It’s ok, sir. I worked with veterans back in Ohio. It’s ok.”

  Jed’s trembling continued. “It’s not ok, Dr. Sutton. I have laudanum in my bag. Please get it for me.”

  “You sure, sir? It can become a habit –“

  “I need it.”

  Indeed. Shuddering had seized him and his wounded soul was bared to her.

  Hannah’s eyes widened, and she moved away from him slowly, and he watched as she dug into his bag and found the bottle. She dispensed the drug with water she poured from the canteen into a tin cup.

  “Thank you, Doctor Sutton.”

  Hannah’s mouth was drawn tight. “How long?”

  “It started while I was serving. All the docs needed something.”

  Her eyes misted and she lowered her head. She seemed to understand how the horror had pierced his soul.

  Then she did something completely unexpected. Leaning forward, she hovered just a moment, and then she dipped down and planted a kiss on cheek.

  “That’s it, then.” She sat close beside him.

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  Hannah was silent for a moment.

  “It’s why you needed an assistant.”

  Jed turned onto his side. “Yes.”

  “Your family knows?”

  “Of course not. Why do you think I’m out here? They’re bitter about the war as it is.”

  “Bitter and angry describes half the nation.” She was silent again. “Look, I can be useful to you.” She bent her head towards him and murmured, “Jed.”