Bluebonnet Belle (14 page)

“April Truitt. She said you'd treated her grandpa.”

“Mmm,” he murmured. “I'd suggest you stay off the foot for the next little while, keep it elevated. Come back in a couple of days and let me check it again.”

“Sure thing, Doc.”

Both men looked up as the door of the examining room burst open. “Gray, darling!”

The woman framed in the doorway wore a tiny hat perched over her forehead, atop an enormous cloud of curls. Her Dolly Varden dress, fashioned of a brightly patterned fabric in colors of blues and maroon, fit closely at the bodice and waist, with rows of lace running down the front of the skirt. On anyone else the bright colors would have been overwhelming, but on Francesca DuBois the effect was smashing.

“Francesca?”

“It is I!” Gliding across the room, she planted her hand on the front of Gray's coat and looked up into his face demurely. “Have you missed me?”

“I can't believe you've made another trip here….” She was paying a fortune in rail services.

“But I told you I would only be gone a short while—long enough to buy more suitable furnishings for your office….”

Her gaze swept to Henry, who was openly ogling her, and she gave him a withering look. “I was hoping to whisk you away for a while, for an early lunch, perhaps?”

Sitting up, Henry straightened his jacket, grinning at her as he tried to hide his big toe under the towel.

“Sorry.” The doctor walked over to close the door.

“Oooh, Gray! I've come all the way from Dallas, and you can't spare a moment to have lunch with me?”

Impatience tinged Fuller's features. “I have an office full of patients. Your efforts are in vain—give it up, Francesca!”

She clicked her tongue in a show of impatience. “Oh, Gray. Don't be such a bore. I'll wait for you in the dining room at the hotel.”

“Francesca…”

“Papa sends his best wishes and says he sincerely hopes you profit greatly from your little adventure.”

Her eyes met his and he got the message. He still owed Louis money—a lot of money. He quietly conceded. “The hotel. Noon.”

“My goodness,” Henry said when the door closed behind her. “Now
that's
a woman.”

Gray clenched his jaw. “You like her? You're welcome to her.”

G
azing up at the sky, Datha listened to the wind moving through the trees. She felt a sense of anticipation, knowing the hot summer was over, and winter hadn't yet closed. She loved fall, but then, anytime was good as long as she was with Jacel.

They lay on their backs, side by side, the long grass waving above them, forming a pretty pattern against the azure sky.

“Are you my woman, Datha?”

“I'm your woman, Jacel Evans. Forever—till death part us.”

Jacel propped himself up on his elbow, gazing into her face. A half smile curved his lips.

Datha let her hand drift over his chiseled features. How she loved this man! Surely God couldn't object. They were young and deeply in love, and the world was at their feet. Nothing could mar this love, nothing destroy it. Jacel could move more raw lumber than the most seasoned worker. Problem was, Mr. Jordan didn't appreciate his work, or his loyalty.

But before long Jacel would be going off to college. When he described the school to her, she felt small and insignificant. He'd told her that Harvard had been established not long after the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock, and she just couldn't comprehend anything being that old and still serviceable.

Already it was over two centuries old, turning out lawyers and doctors and scientists who made a difference in the world. And in a few years Jacel would be one of those who helped change folks' lives. Just thinking about it gave her goose bumps.

“I love you, Datha Gower.” He clasped her hand and held it tightly. “I'm sure going to miss you when I go off to Harvard.”

“I'll miss you, too, but it'll be worth the wait.”

“One of these days we won't have to sneak out to be together. One day we'll be married. I don't like sneaking around this way.”

“Me, either,” she whispered. She didn't want to keep anything from her grandmother, but she wouldn't understand. Datha had tried to talk to her about Jacel, but she refused to listen. Once they were married, she would see what a fine, knowledgeable man God had given Datha. Then Flora Lee would know why her granddaughter had to sneak around.

“Before you know it I'll have a law degree.”

“And you'll be the finest lawyer around.”

“I'll be making lots of money, and we'll get married, have lots of babies and live like rich folks.”

They laughed at the extravagant thought. Rich? That was pretty funny, all right.

“I don't want to live like rich folks,” she whispered. “I just want to be with you—even if that would mean that we don't have a penny in our pocket.”

“Has your grandmother been questioning you again?”

Datha shrugged. “No more than usual. She don't like us seeing each other.”

A frown put a crease between his brows. “She's got no call to feel that way.”

Datha turned her head, looking away from him. “She says you'll go off to school and forget all about me.”

He pulled her into his arms, laughing away her fears. “Don't you be worrying your pretty head about that. You're my woman. No way could I forget you. We're going to be together for always, and when I'm finally a lawyer no one can say anything about what we do. We'll get married, buy us a place for ourselves and do exactly what we want. It won't matter then what folks say.”

 

Early Monday morning, Henry limped into Dr. Fuller's office, nodding to two women already seated in the waiting room.

Sitting where he could stretch his foot out in front of him, he settled down for a wait. This was his fifth visit for treatment, and he'd yet to come in when the waiting room was empty.

No doubt about it, Gray Fuller was carving a nice little niche for himself in this town.

Well, that was just fine. Henry planned to carve a niche for himself—only it wasn't going to be in Dignity.

The door of the examining room opened, and Gray followed Mary Rader out. “Remember, Mary. Rest. Get some exercise, and I want to see you in two weeks.”

“All right, Doctor.”

Gray watched her leave, then turned to the waiting patients.

Grinning, Henry stood up. “Good morning, Doctor.”

“Henry. How's the toe?”

“Better, I think.”

Gray smiled. “Let's take a look at it.”

Glancing around the crowded waiting room, Henry frowned. “I think there are others ahead of me.”

The doctor's eyes grimly assessed the baskets resting on the women's laps. Smells of roast beef and dumplings wafted from beneath the checkered cloths. “I'm sure the women won't mind a small delay.”

Henry followed Gray into the examining room. “How are things going, Doc? I see the ladies are still flocking in to see you.”

“I'm not going hungry,” he admitted as he unwrapped the toe. He paused a moment, examining it. “Seems to be coming along fine.”

“It's better,” Henry agreed.

Gray cleaned and dressed the injury.

“Heard you live upstairs.” That wasn't all Henry had heard. He'd heard that that fancy Frenchwoman came to visit him on a regular basis. Henry winced as the doctor worked, then he grinned knowingly. “What is it about us professional men that attracts women like flies?”

“I don't know—what do you think it is?”

“It's the aura of success. That's been my experience.”

“You don't say.”

“Women are easily influenced. A man with the determination to succeed draws them like honey.”

“You've experienced this personally?”

Henry laughed. “Man to man? I have found women fascinated by success. Careful, Doc. It's still tender.”

He winced as Gray rebandaged the toe.

“When my partners and I were in Austin, I was in a café, having a cup of coffee, and a woman came over to my table and invited me out. I must say, she was a pleasant diversion.”

“Hmm,” Gray murmured.

“I find ladies in the city more adventurous, don't you? This one in Austin is something. More worldly than the girl I'm seeing here. The one here's beautiful, gentle, genuinely caring, but innocent.” He punched Gray on the shoulder. “Know what I mean?”

Gray straightened and reached for a brown bottle of medication. “You're seeing a woman in Austin and one in Dignity?”

“Well, the woman is actually from Burgess, but yes, ungentlemanly of me and—” Henry shrugged “—foolish. If one should ever learn of the other…Well, you know what I mean.”

“I believe I do.”

“I don't like to think about it,” Henry conceded. He was playing with fire, no doubt. “I shouldn't be seeing the other woman, but when I'm with Grace—” he winked “—my best intentions fly right out the window.”

“What about the woman you're seeing here?”

“Sweet innocence. My bluebonnet belle.”

“Is that wise? Courting two women at the same time?”

“Ah, that's the problem. Yes, it is foolhardy, but I find myself overly fond of both. I've known one all my life. She's been the flower in my life in this otherwise colorless garden. But she isn't Grace.”

“She's Bluebonnet Belle.”

“Yes, my innocent little flower. No doubt after I've sown my wild oats I'll settle for April. She's a wonderfully bright woman. And just as lovely as Grace. But Grace…Grace makes me feel alive, good. I find myself in quite a dilemma.”

Gray finished wrapping the toe and indicated he could sit up.

Henry pulled on his sock and reached for his shoe. “Think my foot will be healed in time for me to return to her next week?”

“I don't see any reason it shouldn't. Just wear comfortable shoes, and allow plenty of air to the wound.”

“Good. I'm looking forward to getting back.” He winked slyly. “And not just for fun. The Pinkham formula is about to take off.” He raised a hand, palm toward the doctor. “I know your opinion of the elixir. April's been very clear about your position. But your opposition doesn't stifle our enterprising spirit.”

Henry preceded Gray from the examining room. “Thank you, Gray—you don't mind that I call you Gray? You seem more like a peer than a doctor.”

Fuller's expression sobered. “A friendly word of advice, Henry. I'd be careful not to find myself caught between two very angry women.”

“That would be awful, wouldn't it?” Laughing, he clasped the doctor on the shoulder. “See you when I get back.”

 

Henry Long was an idiot.

Leaning back in his chair, Gray relished one of the few quiet moments he'd had lately. His mind kept turning over Henry's troubling revelation of that morning, trying to absorb the ramifications.

The man was seeing a woman near Austin, as well as Riley's granddaughter, April. Bluebonnet Belle.

Henry was playing with a loaded gun. It was evident that neither woman knew about the other. Christian principles aside, the man was out of his mind.

April was enamored of Henry Long. Gray had recognized that the night he'd found her on the porch with Henry's letter in her lap.

April had been so quick to talk about her faith that he wondered if Henry was a Christian, too. The way he was behaving, treating women like toys, was definitely not Christlike. In Gray's line of work he saw all kinds, but he tried to show God's love to everyone on an equal basis, regardless of that person's social or financial standing. He thought of Francesca and what she expected of him. At first he'd been strongly attracted to her, certain that he wanted to marry her, and he'd been happy enough to take Louis' money to help start his career. Now he wished he'd never met father or daughter. God would have provided a way for him to meet his needs without becoming entangled with the DuBois family. Gray had tried to be honest with Francesca, tried to break her smothering hold, though she stuck tighter than a sandbur.

But he wasn't openly lying as Henry was. It was shabby, not to mention foolish, of Long to court two women at the same time. But it wasn't Gray's place to inform Riley's spirited granddaughter of what the man was doing.

She didn't want Gray's opinion about anything.

His previous encounters with her had been confrontational, and he didn't intend to goad her further by butting into her business. Her grandfather's health was too important; the last thing he wanted was her feeding Riley herbal remedies and refusing Gray's help. She'd made it clear that what he thought didn't matter.

April and her “vegetable compound.”

She had called him a quack. Far be it from him to cross her again by telling her she was involved with a skunk.

Picking up a chart, he turned to the more pressing problem of Mary Rader. Studying his notes, he shook his head.

Mary had been one of his first patients. In her late twenties, married, she suffered with cramps so severe she was reduced to bed nearly two weeks out of the month.

The situation was even more frustrating in that Mary's husband had no understanding of the difficulties she was experiencing. Severn Rader was becoming increasingly more belligerent that his wife had not conceived.

The situation had worn Mary down. Her face often had a waxen cast, a look of despair. Gray never concluded a situation was hopeless, but he was beginning to suspect this one might be.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze passing over the large bottle of Pinkham's Vegetable Compound. It sat there on the shelf where he'd left it earlier. He had intended to dispose of it, but had never gotten around to it.

Leaning forward, he reached for the jug and uncorked the bottle. He sniffed it. His eyebrows lifted. Definitely a high herbal content, but Pinkham claimed there was nothing in it to harm a person.

Still, he knew the mind was a strong influence. If the brain were convinced the elixir was helpful, then the body often believed it. He'd tried everything he could think of to treat Mary's problems outside of surgery, which he didn't want to do.

Studying the jug of compound, he toyed with an idea. It wasn't his first choice, but he wasn't as closed-minded as April Truitt thought him to be.

Lacing his fingers behind his head, he leaned back in his chair and studied the bottle pensively. She accused him of being headstrong and narrow-minded about women's problems.

Was he?

He focused again on the jug of amber liquid.

Why not prove Miss Truitt wrong? Why not conduct his own studies on the effectiveness, or lack of effectiveness, of Pinkham's elixir? A couple of spoonfuls a day couldn't hurt Mary and might even convince her she was being effectively treated, which in turn would allow her to relax.

If she relaxed, her situation might alleviate itself.

Reaching for the jug, Gray took a small brown bottle from a lower shelf and filled it with compound. Printing Mary's name and the dosage on a label, he affixed it to the bottle and set it on his desk to await her next appointment.