Dorothy Garlock (29 page)

“You’re a good nurse.” The doctor squeezed her shoulder gently. “But you must take care of yourself or you’ll be unable to take care of your patient. Conserve your strength. Eat and rest.”

“I know. And I beg your pardon for . . . letting down.”

“If you need work when you’ve finished here, look me up in Buffalo. I need someone to carry on in the office while I’m away. You’d get your fill of taking out splinters, lancing boils and passing out sugar pills.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Smith paused in the doorway when he saw the doctor’s hand on Willa’s shoulder and listened to the quiet conversation. He felt a surge of primitive jealousy, shocking in its intensity. He wanted to punch the doctor in the face for putting his hand on her, for realizing how tired she was, and trying to comfort her.
He
should be the one to do that, by God!

Smith hid his feelings when the doctor looked at him, but that didn’t make them go away. He knew what was the matter with him, but it didn’t make it any easier to tolerate. This light-haired, blue-eyed woman was in his blood, in his thoughts during every waking moment. She haunted his dreams at night. He wanted her for his own. The want, the need to have her, was burning a hole deep in his gut. But it was impossible to have her—he knew that. He would never ask her to share his miserable life. Knowing this, why did it hurt so much to see her with another man?

Charlie was behind him, forcing him to step into the kitchen. Willa’s eyes, bright with tears, met his. By God—if that man has hurt her—

“The doctor says Mrs. Eastwood didn’t break her hip; she wrenched it. Isn’t that good news? She’ll be in bed, though, for quite a while.”

“Good news,” Smith repeated, his mind not absorbing the import of her words, only that she had spoken. Who had made her cry?
Jo Bell’s foul mouth!
Hard green eyes shifted to the doctor. “What’s your fee, Doc?”

“Four dollars.”

Smith tossed some silver on the table. “Here’s five. We may need you to come back.”

John Hendricks picked up four silver dollars. “Send for me if you need me. Now, I think I’ll accept your invitation to . . . ah dinner.”

“Take him down to the cookshack, Charlie.”

Smith waited until Charlie and the doctor stepped off the
porch, then went to the stove and dished up a plate of the chicken and dumplings. He carried it to the table and set it in front of Willa. He returned with eating utensils and a glass of buttermilk. Still not a word passed between them. Willa spoke when he came to the table with a cup of coffee and sat down in the chair opposite her.

“You don’t have to wait on me.”

“I know that.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I wanted to. Why were you crying?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess . . . I’m tired.”

“Was it because of what that little bitch said?” His voice was rough as if he was having difficulty swallowing.

“Partly.”

She fervently wished she could hide her suddenly flushed face from his knowing eyes. She couldn’t tell him that her monthly flow was due and that sometimes she got weepy at that time.

“She’ll get more than a swat on the butt if she don’t shape up . . . and shut up!”

“What can you do? Beat her?” Willa looked into his eyes and smiled. “I can’t see that happening.”

“I’d like to.” His tone of voice revealed his frustration.

They were silent for a while before Willa spoke again.

“You were rude to the doctor. Why?”

“I wasn’t rude. What did you want me to do? Bow and scrape? He’s only a saw-bones in a one-horse town.”

“You deliberately set out to make people dislike you.”

“Eat your meal. You look like you’re going to bawl again.”

“I won’t . . . bawl.”

“You can’t take care of Maud day and night. If I know you, you’ll be cleaning on this mausoleum every spare minute.”

“You don’t know me. I don’t know you. Sometimes I think I do, then you switch into someone I don’t know.” Her eyes were shadowed with sadness.

Smith stirred uneasily and turn his head to stare up at the ceiling. He drew in a deep, shaky breath. When he looked back at Willa, the look on his face was the look of a man who has seen too much of life’s miserable side.

“Are you going to work for him?”

Willa took a bite, chewed and swallowed before she answered. “I thought I had a job. Am I fired already?”

“You know damn well you’re not fired,” he said irritably. She could see a muscle tighten in his jaw.

Willa continued to eat slowly, not really tasting the food, but knowing she had to eat. The buttermilk was deliciously cold. She drank, leaving a white ring on her upper lip.

“How do you keep the milk cold?”

“There’s a spring in the well-house. The windmill draws water from deeper down for the horse tanks and general use. More milk?”

“No, thank you.”

Willa could feel his eyes each time he looked at her and then away. When she had eaten all she could of the food he had heaped on her plate, she carried the plate to the kitchen cabinet.

“Where’s Buddy? I’ll give him what I can’t eat.”

“You needn’t have left it so he’d have something to eat. Billy will see to it that he’s fed.”

“Buddy will get spoiled, He’s always had to scrounge for part of his food.”

“I know a woman who will come help you,” Smith said, abruptly changing the subject. “She’s part Mexican. As long as Maud is tied to the bed it might work.”

“I don’t think you should have anyone here Mrs. Eastwood objects to.”

“I tried not having anyone here she objects to and you see what happened. It’s for her own good. You can’t be with her all the time. She could have one of her fits.”

“Fits?” Willa turned to look at him. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“Oliver told me a long time ago that Maud has some sort of fits. She falls down and twitches. It doesn’t happen often. I’m wondering if she had one, fell and broke her leg.”

“Well, for goodness sake. Did you tell the doctor?”

“I didn’t tell him anything. I’m not someone he wants to chew the fat with.”

The pained look on his face caused her to laugh shortly, without humor.

“I swear, Smith. You’re the limit,” she said in a brittle little voice. “What gave you that idea? Never mind. I’ll tell the doctor. He should know.” She picked up the silver dollar Dr. Hendricks had left on the table and dropped it in Smith’s shirt pocket. Standing close to him, she looked up into his face. The concern in her eyes almost shattered his control. “You’re so afraid that someone will get the impression that you’re a decent man, that you go out of your way to make them think you’re an ill-tempered reprobate.” She smiled and lifted her brows. “Know something, Smith? You’ve not convinced me.”

He frowned down at her, shifted from one foot to the other, not liking the feeling that she was looking into his very soul and seeing the coward there.

“Do you want Inez or not?” he asked gruffly, wanting more than anything to put his hands on her shoulders and pull her against him.

“Inez? The Mexican woman?”

“Part Mexican, part she-wolf, but she cooks a damn good pot of chili.” He grinned wickedly.

“It isn’t for me to say who comes to work here.”

“I’ll tell Plenty to fetch her when he goes for the mouse traps. You’ll not get any help from that little snit upstairs. Godamighty! I’ve never seen such a worthless, contrary female. She’s not worth the powder it would take to blow her up.”

“There are a lot of men who would not agree with you.”

“That’s true. But most of them are after a quick release for the moment,” he said bluntly, and watched the color come up to cover her cheeks.

Smith reached out a finger and looped a strand of hair over her ear. His warm fingertip touched her cheek. Something inside Willa began to melt, spreading warmth through her from the point of his touch.

“Do you like that . . . doctor?” Smith was scarcely aware the thought was spoken aloud. He drank in the sight of her. She was so pretty, so soft, so sweet, so far above him, that he had no right to even look at her.

“He’s . . . nice. He seemed to know what he’s about.” She held her breath waiting for his fingers to move against her cheek again. To her disappointment, he dropped his hand to his side and stepped toward the door.

“I’d better get Plenty started so he can get back by dark. Inez will come around by the road. She’ll not be here until morning.”

“Smith—” Willa watched him turn toward her. Against the light she couldn’t see the expression on his face and she wanted to. “There’s a small bed in one of the rooms. May I put it in Maud’s room to sleep on?”

He took a step toward her. “Why?”

“I’m a light sleeper. I’ll hear her if she needs me.”

“If it’s what you want, Charlie and I will move it. I was going to suggest that Inez clean one of the rooms for you.”

“Thank you. I’d feel better if I stayed close to Mrs. Eastwood.”

“Suit yourself,” he said briskly and walked out.

*  *  *

The doctor listened intently while Willa told him what Smith had said about Maud having fits.

“I suspected it when I saw that her jaw teeth are ground down to the gums. When you found her on the floor, had she voided her urine?”

Willa nodded. “And . . . her bowels.”

“Epileptic fits begin in early life, rarely after the age of twenty years. If I didn’t know that she has had them for years, I might suspect that she has either a brain tumor, brain syphilis, or hardening of the cerebral blood vessels. Heredity is believed to play an important role as a cause.”

“Oh, the poor thing—”

“I’ll talk to her and find out how often the seizures occur. Evidently they are not as severe as some, or she would be dead. Plenty of rest, regular meals and no excitement is about all I can recommend. Bromide of soda or potash have been used, but these drugs stupefy the nervous system and may do more damage than good.”

Dr. Hendricks reluctantly left the coziness of the kitchen. He had enjoyed the conversation. Willa Hammer was a well-read, sensible woman. He had been able to discuss symptoms and treatments with her as he had done with Bertha.

Standing on the lower step, he looked around at the decay of a once beautiful home and shook his head sadly. Such waste. The place gave him a chill. It was completely unlike the Mathews home where he had stayed last night. Four miserable rooms, but brimming with laughter and love.

At the top of the stairs, Dr. Hendricks looked back once more. Where did Smith Bowman fit in all this? He was a
strange man. His eyes had practically devoured Miss Hammer. And he’d had the feeling the man wanted to punch him in the nose.

Whether he would admit it or not, the doctor thought as he opened the door to Maud’s room, Bowman was in love with the woman. The question was—how did she feel about him?

19

W
illa finished changing Maud’s bed. She straightened, her hand unconsciously going to the small of her back and the ache that plagued her.

It had not been an easy night.

After dark the previous night Willa had heard a crew of men ride in. They had greeted Billy and Smith in loud boisterous voices as they had unsaddled their horses and turned them into the corral. There had been lights in the bunkhouse and later she had heard someone playing a guitar. This morning a crew had ridden out again.

Maud had continued her verbal abuse, spitting obscenities, cursing Smith, ordering Willa out of the house. She had convinced herself that Willa was in a conspiracy with Smith to kill her. Willa had sat beside Maud’s bed a good portion of the night, talking to her, trying to keep her mind off her pain.

In the final hours before dawn, Willa’s patience had come to an end.

“If Smith wanted to kill you why did he send for the doctor?” she asked, standing and staring down at the
woman’s pale face. “All we would have to do, Mrs. Eastwood, is go off and leave you. You would lie here and die an agonizing death. We are trying to help you until you’re back on your feet and can take care of yourself. Now, I’m getting tired of your slurs on my character, your coarse, unladylike language and your railing about Smith trying to kill you when I know it is not true. If it doesn’t stop, I’ll remove myself from your presence, shut the door, and leave this house. The choice is yours.”