Love Inspired Historical December 2013 Bundle: Mail-Order Mistletoe Brides\The Wife Campaign\A Hero for Christmas\Return of the Cowboy Doctor (67 page)

Intense relief spilled through Hattie as Sam and Mr. White deposited the injured man on her father's operating table in the rear of his clinic. She retained her position at the side of the table, continuing to put pressure on Mr. Spencer's wound as the other two men moved away. Sam went out the door, and Hattie heard the murmur of her father's voice.

Mr. White hesitated. “Do you need—”

She ignored him. Kept pressure on the wound with one hand while attempting to unbutton the victim's shirt with the other. Her father would want it removed before he could start the surgery to save this man's life.

“I can help—”

She hadn't realized Mr. White had come closer, but then he was beside her and their fingers tangled as he attempted the same button that troubled her. Sparks zinged up her forearm as the warm, callused digits enclosed her fingers momentarily.

“I've got it,” she insisted. And then promptly wished her voice hadn't sounded so breathless. What was it about this man that discombobulated her so?

Papa shuffled into the room, moving to pump water from the sink in the back corner and scrub his hands. Many of his colleagues sneered at his penchant for using running water, but her papa believed it helped prevent infection.

“Thank you for your help today, young man,” Papa said. With his back turned, he didn't see how Mr. White had ignored her and was quickly removing the man's shirt, gently edging it out from beneath him now while Hattie maintained pressure on the wound. “We'll get together soon to discuss things.”

It was an obvious dismissal. With the victim's shirt gone, Maxwell flicked one last glance at Hattie and stepped back. “Thank you, sir.”

Papa didn't even seem to hear him as he approached the operating table, he was so intent on the injured man. The same as always. Focused on a patient to the exclusion of everything else. Hattie heard distinctive boot steps retreating out of the sickroom and toward the waiting room out front.

“Now, let's see if we can't remove the bullet and save this man,” her father said as he joined her at the table. “Administer the ether.”

They fell into the easy routine they'd achieved after years of working together, when Hattie's condition allowed. At age twelve she'd helped him stitch up a little girl's nasty cut, using the sewing skills her mother had worked hard to instill. Hattie's aid in dispensing medicines and calming young children had evolved into helping Papa set broken bones, and by age fourteen she'd assisted in her first surgery.

Medicine had become her passion. She'd avidly followed Elizabeth Blackwell's career and scoured newspapers for articles about women doctors. She wanted to be a doctor more than anything. And if her plans worked out this summer,
if
she could convince her parents, then she would be headed to medical school in the fall.

If Maxwell White didn't interfere.

* * *

Hours later, after they'd closed up the gunshot wound and her papa had snuck out the clinic's back door, Hattie finished tidying the room and setting the instruments back in their proper places.

Mrs. Spencer sat at her husband's side, holding his hand. Hattie would go home and rest for a while, then come back and spell the other woman during the night hours. It wouldn't be the first time she'd slept on a cot in the clinic, watching over a patient.

It was one of the arguments she planned to use when she spoke to Papa about her dreams of medical school later this summer—her papa's trust that she could take care of his patients.

She knew there was a chance he would refuse to consider Hattie's wishes; her mother had taken an adamant stance against Hattie receiving further education in medicine since Hattie had brought it up several years ago. She'd been fifteen when she'd overheard her parents' hushed conversation about Hattie helping her father in his practice. Her father had argued that if Hattie had been born a boy, her mother would have had no issue with furthering Hattie's education. To which Hattie's mother had responded that Hattie had
not
been born a boy, no matter how much Papa had wanted a son. And that wasn't even including Hattie's medical condition—something her mother used as a further argument to keep Hattie at home.

Before that day, Hattie hadn't realized that her father had wanted someone to carry on his medical practice. She didn't see why she couldn't be the partner he desired. The medical field wasn't particularly open to female doctors; however, there were now schools that admitted women. Hattie knew she could be one of them. Her father had promised to listen; now she needed to ease him into keeping his promise. She was getting older. There was a chance her condition could worsen as she aged. She couldn't waste what might be her only good years to practice. She needed her papa to agree now, this year.

Hattie's condition did not have an official diagnosis. It had symptoms similar to multiple sclerosis, where she would occasionally lose nerve function and have weakness in her extremities. But her condition was not as severe as the cases of multiple sclerosis her papa had studied. And he'd studied plenty over the years since her symptoms had first started manifesting as a young girl. She felt she could manage it, enough to attend medical school, enough to practice as a physician. But she also didn't want to waste time if there was a chance her condition could worsen. She wanted to make a difference in people's lives now.

Leaving the woman praying over her husband, Hattie slipped into the small waiting room to ensure that the outer door was secured. Movement from one of the chairs startled her and she whirled, one hand at her neck.

“S-sorry, miss. Didn't mean to scare ya.”

The cowboy-turned-medical-student. Maxwell White.

Her shoulders came down, but adrenaline still rushed through her system, making her heart thud loudly in her ears. The combination of a long day of surgery and the burst of energy left her trembling, and based on her past experience, Hattie knew she needed some quiet time to regroup before her nerves rendered her useless to anyone.

He rose from the chair where he'd been sitting, clutching a battered Stetson against his thigh. Once again, she realized just how tall he was.

“What do you want?” The stress of the day and her fading energy made her words sharper than the situation warranted.

“I just wanted to see— Is he all right?”

He stumbled over his words, and she almost felt sorry for him. Until she remembered that his very presence in Bear Creek might upset her carefully laid plans.

“He's alive.” She couldn't keep the pride from her voice. Her father, with her assisting, had saved the man's life, stopped the bleeding and stitched him up. “No doubt you know that infection is the next stage of the battle. If he can survive the next few days, he should recover.”

The cowboy moved to the door and passed through a late-afternoon shaft of sunlight from one of the windows. As he did, Hattie clearly saw the dark stain on the midsection of his white shirt. From the little her papa had said, she knew the man had just arrived in town. Had he sat here all afternoon waiting for word on the man's recovery? Put off his homecoming with his family just to find out?

He must've sensed her appraisal, or perhaps he was just nervous, because he looked down at himself self-consciously.

“You've got blood on your shirt,” she said.

He nodded, then glanced up and their eyes connected. “I'm sure I've got some chloride of lime stashed in my luggage. It won't be the first time I've had to launder something like this....”

She was surprised that he would admit to doing something that could be construed as a woman's task. When made into a solution with water, the chloride of lime would help bleach out the stain and could remove any infectious bacteria as needed. She had often laundered her soiled aprons, wanting to spare her mother's sensibilities. But to hear this cowboy admit that he did the same changed how she thought about him—unlocked a tenuous connection between them.

She severed it by briskly opening the door for him, heart pounding.

“Thank you for...telling me the man made it,” he said.

He stuffed his hat on his head and rushed out the door. Hattie shoved it closed and leaned against it. She needed to get home but also needed a moment to compose herself.

Though the cowboy was awkward, part of him was endearing. He'd obviously cared enough to see if the injured man had survived the surgery. For a moment, and only a moment, she'd entertained the thought that he had stayed to impress her father. But his very manner struck the thought from her head. He was too sincere.

Yes, she could see him being a distraction. One she desperately didn't need.

Copyright © 2013 by Lacy Williams

ISBN-13: 9781460323397

A HERO FOR CHRISTMAS

Copyright © 2013 by Jo Ann Ferguson

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The Cowboy's Reluctant Sweetheart

Two years shy of his medical degree, cowboy Maxwell White is out of money. So, he's back in Bear Creek, Wyoming, working part-time for the local physician. Though he is immediately drawn to the doctor's lovely, whip-smart daughter, she seems to be irritated by Maxwell's very existence.

Hattie Powell can't quash her feelings for the town's new would-be doctor. But that's exactly why she must keep him at a distance. Hattie is closer than ever to fulfilling her lifelong wish of becoming a doctor. Now, the only thing standing in her way is the man of her dreams.

Wyoming Legacy: United by family, destined for love

“S-sorry, miss. Didn't mean to scare ya.”

Maxwell White rose from the chair where he'd been sitting, clutching a battered Stetson against his thigh. Once again, Hattie realized just how tall he was.

“What do you want?”

“I just wanted to see— Is he all right?”

He stumbled over his words, and she almost felt sorry for him. Until she remembered that his very presence in Bear Creek might upset her carefully laid plans.

“He's alive.”

Hattie noticed a dark stain on the midsection of Maxwell's white shirt. Had he sat here all afternoon waiting for word on the man's recovery?

“You've got blood on your shirt,” she said.

He looked down, nodded. “It's not the first time.…” He glanced up and their eyes connected.

Hattie, heart suddenly pounding, quickly severed the moment by opening the front door for him.

“Thank you for…telling me the man made it,” Maxwell said, and rushed out the door.

Hattie shoved it closed and leaned against it. Yes, she could see Mr. White being a distraction. One she desperately didn't need.

Books by Lacy Williams

Love Inspired Historical

Marrying Miss Marshal
The
Homesteader's Sweetheart
Counterfeit Cowboy
*Roping the
Wrangler
*Return of the Cowboy Doctor

*Wyoming Legacy

Other titles by this author available in ebook
format.

LACY WILLIAMS

is a wife and mom from Oklahoma. Her first novel won an ACFW
Genesis Award while it was still unpublished. She has loved romance books and
movies from a young age and promises readers happy endings in all her stories.
Lacy combines her love of dogs with her passion for literacy by volunteering
with her therapy dog, Mr. Bingley, in a local Kids Reading to Dogs program.

Lacy loves to hear from readers. You can email her at
[email protected]
. She also posts
short stories and does giveaways at her website,
www.lacywilliams.net
, and you can follow her on Facebook
(lacywilliamsbooks) or Twitter @lacy_williams.

RETURN OF THE COWBOY DOCTOR

Lacy Williams