Love Inspired Historical December 2013 Bundle: Mail-Order Mistletoe Brides\The Wife Campaign\A Hero for Christmas\Return of the Cowboy Doctor (70 page)

He shrugged, only glancing quickly at her. “I guess it was something I wanted after I met Jonas—my pa. But I didn't think it was possible until Penny—my ma—pushed me to try.”

How curious. She wanted to know more, but the way he kept his head ducked as he pushed his food around his plate made her think he was uncomfortable. Did the man not like talking about himself?

“And do you enjoy the medical courses?” Mama asked.

Finally, his expression brightened. “I love the lectures. Even the studying interests me. The human body is fascinating, and although there's much we don't know, it's incredible what healing we—and the Lord—can do.”

“He sounds like you when you were in medical school and excited about learning,” Mama teased, with a fond glance at her husband.

It sounded marvelous. Hattie tried not to be jealous, but she desperately wanted her chance to attend.

“How did you come to be a nurse, Miss Powell?” Maxwell asked.

“She isn't a nurse!” Mama exclaimed. “Her father allows her to help in the clinic—which I've discouraged, but no one wants to listen to me. It's high time Hattie finds herself settled and married. With someone to take care of her.”

Hattie heard her mama's unspoken censure. It was her turn to suffer a flare of embarrassment. She and her mother didn't see eye to eye on suitors or a woman's right to be a nurse or physician. They never had. Hattie had never met a man who had interested her—and with her book learning and habit of speaking her mind, she'd never interested any man. And not to mention her condition. She'd never been close enough to anyone to share about it before.

Still, it was humiliating to have her mother say such a thing in front of a guest.

A glance at Maxwell revealed only a flash of curiosity in his eyes before his glance flicked away.

“I've been helping my papa with his work for almost eight years now. But I'm not a nurse.” But she
would
become a doctor, if she could convince her father to let her attend.

His brows went up. “That's impressive. Your parents must be real proud of you, Miss Powell.”

With a comment like that, what could they say in argument?

“Hattie,” she said softly. She hadn't wanted to like him, but the man had complimented her on the thing she was most proud of, her work with her father.

From across the table, Mama smiled a secret smile. Hattie hoped she didn't get any ideas about matching up Hattie with the cowboy medical student.

She couldn't afford to befriend the man. If he edged her out of working with her father for the next month and a half, would her arguments for medical school mean anything?

* * *

Maxwell had intended to return to the bunkhouse directly, but as he rode past his brother Oscar's cabin, the other man waved to him from the porch.

Reining in, Maxwell dismounted and approached, hesitating when he saw Oscar's wife, Sarah, snuggled up on the porch swing with him. He didn't want to interrupt the couple's private time. Knew they probably didn't get much of it, not with three adopted girls to look after and an infant son of their own.

“How did it go?” asked Oscar.

Maxwell's thoughts went immediately to Miss Powell—Hattie—and how he'd botched things when he'd noticed she was in a wheeled chair. He hadn't known what to say, and her cool attitude toward him had flustered him even worse. Although she had seemed to warm to him a bit during their supper conversation, she'd retired soon after the meal. He had the feeling his reaction might have bothered her more than she'd let on.

He'd just been so shocked to see her in that chair. Two days before, she'd been active, with no hint that anything was wrong as she'd helped carry the man to her father's office. And assisted in the surgery, too.

He'd gotten the courage to ask her father about her health as they said their goodbyes on the front stoop. Dr. Powell had assured him it was a recurring condition and not serious as long as Hattie got adequate rest.

He couldn't help but be curious about it. If he had more knowledge of her symptoms, he might have an idea of what affected her.

The doctor had been protective of his daughter, telling Maxwell not to spread it around anywhere, not that he would've. Then he'd almost absentmindedly returned to their discussion, as if he'd put his daughter's condition out of his mind.

The funny thing was, Maxwell found her just as vibrant and attractive in the chair. He admired that she knew her limitations. When he'd had the chance to clasp her cool, small hand in his during the mealtime prayer, he'd been so distracted by his reaction to her he'd almost made a fool of himself by not noticing when the moment had ended.

“Did the doc offer you a job?” Oscar prodded.

Maxwell rubbed the back of his neck, hoping to camouflage his inattention—once again, Hattie's fault. Of course, his brother had meant Maxwell's education. Not the woman he found irresistible.

“Yes. He wants me there whenever you can spare me, so I thought in the morning you and I could work out a schedule for training the animals.”

Oscar had promised him that if Maxwell spent the summer helping break this year's crop of horses, he could have a cut of the profits. With cattle drives becoming rarer because of the railroad, Maxwell was thankful for the opportunity to supplement his income by assisting the doctor, no matter how small the payment might be. Even if his job was scrubbing instruments and floors, he could soak up knowledge from Doc Powell.

If he could keep his concentration off Hattie, he might be able to return to medical school next spring.

A soft cry from inside the cabin brought Oscar's and Sarah's heads up. Oscar removed his arm from around his wife's shoulders. “I'll check on him.” He smacked a kiss on her cheek and disappeared inside the dark cabin.

Sarah smiled fondly, her eyes remaining on the doorway where his brother had disappeared. Maxwell averted his eyes from the display, feeling a little as if he was intruding.

He didn't know Sarah well. When he'd learned that Oscar had married the gal he'd teased mercilessly in their school days, Maxwell had been more than a little surprised. But in the couple of days Maxwell had been home, it was easy to see the love between his older brother and Sarah.

Maxwell wasn't jealous. He was happy for his brother. At least, that was what he told himself.

After all, he was the one who'd given up on finding love. It had seemed the natural conclusion after the events of his past. Didn't mean it didn't still hurt, though, especially when witnessing moments like these.

“Your brother might not say so, but he's very proud of you.” Sarah's voice brought him out of his melancholy musings. “One of the first real conversations we had was about your family, and Oscar talked about how proud he was that you were in medical school.”

Maxwell shifted his feet. “I never would've gone without him pushing me. I'm just sorry it's taking so long for me to finish.” He'd lived as frugally as possible, but the private scholarship funds he'd received had still run out with two years remaining in his education.

She shrugged, and a softening in her expression told him she understood. “Oscar and I know you'll make it through. Even so, we are thrilled to have you home for a while.”

“Who, this half cowboy, half doctor?” Oscar joked, stepping outside with a dark-haired bundle tucked against his shoulder. “He insists he needs his mama.”

Sarah rose, took the softly fussing baby from Oscar and went inside.

“I'll see you in the morning,” Maxwell said, trying to excuse himself.

Oscar stopped him. “You sure everything is all right? You seem a little...I don't know, off tonight.”

Maxwell shrugged. “I'm all right.”

Oscar and Sam Castlerock were his closest friends and both knew that he'd had some courting troubles while away at college. But neither knew the full extent of it. And Maxwell didn't want to get into it now.

Hattie Powell was going to be in his life for the time being and he would have to find a way to interact with her. Be friends. Without making a fool of himself. Bringing his brother or best friend into it would only make things worse—they were likely to tease him mercilessly or push him at Hattie, and he didn't need that.

The house was dark when Maxwell arrived back at Jonas's place, but light spilled from the bunkhouse windows. After he'd settled his horse in the barn with a nice rubdown, Maxwell went inside to find his younger brothers cutting up. Seventeen-year-old Ricky had fifteen-year-old Seb in a wrestling hold, while twenty-one-year-old Edgar and twenty-year-old Davy discussed something intensely over the small table tucked between their two bunks. Seventeen-year-old Matty read by the light of a lamp but looked up when Maxwell entered.

“You have a good time with the doctor tonight?” Davy called out.

“The doc's daughter is sure easy on the eyes, ain't she?” Ricky teased. All of his brothers knew that Maxwell was shy around ladies. They'd all joshed him about it since he'd been sweet on Sam's wife, Emily, when he was fifteen. Since then, Penny had tried to help him overcome his innate bashfulness, something his birth ma had ingrained in him with her harsh words.

“You'd better watch out,” Edgar cautioned. “Women ain't nuthin' but trouble.”

“Aw, Ed!” chorused the others. “Leave him alone—”

Edgar shrugged. Since Maxwell had come into the family, his next-youngest brother hadn't made a secret of his distrust of women, including Penny when she'd come into Jonas's life.

Maxwell did his best to ignore them, but his brothers continued joking and guffawing anyway. It would be much worse if they knew the truth, that he wanted to get to know Hattie better.

Even with their teasing, he couldn't help but be glad to be home. He'd missed the camaraderie between all his brothers. With their similar backgrounds, theirs was a brotherhood of family ties, not blood. But Maxwell almost thought their bond was stronger for the fact that they shared similar difficult pasts and had chosen to be a family.

It had been awkward when the doctor and his family had questioned Maxwell about his childhood at supper. He didn't talk about the family he'd been born into with anyone. And until Hattie had intervened, it had seemed as though the doc was going to dig until he uncovered everything.

He'd rather forget those days.

Maxwell retreated to his bunk and pulled out one of his medical texts. After he'd flipped the tome open, he slid out the small leather-backed journal he'd taken to carrying on his person now that he was back home.

His poetry.

He didn't count himself a talent by any means, but once Penny had taught him how to read when he was sixteen, he'd fallen in love with books. Then, at university, he'd found poetry. Considering the ribbing his brothers would give him if they ever found out he wrote poetry, he hid his little notebook as if it was pure gold. Writing his poems helped him release some of the emotions that tended to get bottled up inside. When he thought about his past or worried too much about school, he found solace in creating the rhymes.

And now, apparently, it helped when he was befuddled by a beautiful woman.

He scribbled down the lines that had popped into his head when he'd first come upon Hattie on the back porch of her parents' home, knowing he would never show them to another soul. They were too private, too personal.

But he had to get his feelings down. He would never tell Hattie Powell that he found her attractive, but at least he could write his feelings here, in his private notebook. It was the best he could expect.

Chapter Three

W
ith Thursday morning came Maxwell's first chance to work with the doctor. He arrived at Doc Powell's practice as the rest of the businesses on Bear Creek's main street were opening for the day, excited and anticipating how he might help the good doctor.

The inside of the clinic was quiet, except for a soft rustling from another room.

“Hello?” he called out. “Doc?”

But it was a woman's voice who answered. “Yes?”

Hattie appeared in the doorway between the waiting room and the short hallway that led to both a small examination room and the room where he'd taken the other man for surgery last week.

Her welcoming smile faded at the same time his heart registered her presence and sped up.

“Maxwell,” she said curtly.

It wasn't much of a greeting, but he tipped his hat and smiled. “Morning, Miss Hattie. Is the doc in?”

“Not yet. He had an early-morning call and asked me to see to things here until he arrives. I suppose you can wait.”

She turned on her heel and disappeared into the back of the clinic.

Could she still be upset about his reaction when he'd first seen her in the chair? If so, perhaps he should apologize, but how did he know? What if she'd had a spat with her mother or was just busy? He wished he knew more about women. Wished he wasn't so hesitant to follow her down that hall.

He went anyway. He was determined to learn everything he could under Doc Powell's tutelage, and it wouldn't hurt to familiarize himself with the clinic. If Hattie was cool toward him, it might help him keep his head around her. Even if it did sting a little. For the past several days, thoughts of her had sneaked up on him as he'd worked the horses with his brother. The deep blue of the sky just before twilight reminded him of her eyes. He'd see the chestnut mare out of the corner of his eye and imagine a glimpse of Hattie's hair in the sunlight.

Apparently, she'd entertained no fond thoughts of him in the interim.

He found her in a back room past the exam room and the surgery, in the middle of unpacking a crate of supplies. Several brown bottles of various sizes stood on a counter against one wall. A cabinet above hung open, where several more bottles were lined in orderly rows.

As he watched, she bent and took three more flasks from the straw-packed crate. They clanked together, and she stretched to reach the high shelf.

“Can I help?”

She startled and one of the bottles slipped.

He darted forward.

It toppled on the edge of the counter and Maxwell reached out and grabbed it before it could hit the floor and shatter.

Hattie turned to him, fire in her eyes. “You really shouldn't sneak up on people and frighten them!”

“I'm sorry.” He set the bottle on the counter and backed up, palms in the air. His face flushed with heat. “Can I help?” If he learned where the doctor kept all his medicines, it might make it easier if he needed to retrieve them for a patient.

“I'm perfectly capable of unloading a crate of medicines.”

She turned her back and reached for the bottle he'd left on the counter. Her hand was shaking.

Had he really scared her that badly, or was she still offended about the other night? How could he make things right?

She sighed—more of a huff—and said, “There's another crate on the back stoop. I suppose if you want to make yourself useful, you can fetch it inside.”

Back into the hall Maxwell went. He turned past the exam and waiting rooms and found the back door. Outside, a second crate was on the stoop. So was a small boy, seated with feet dangling toward the dirt-packed ground, holding a rabbit.

At Maxwell's appearance, the child jumped up.

“Who are you?” Maxwell asked. Was this child supposed to be here?

“Who're you?” the child responded. “I'm waiting on Miss Hattie.”

“She's inside.” Maxwell waved his thumb over his shoulder. “You wanna come in and talk to her?”

“I guess.” The grubby, barefoot boy kept his eyes on Maxwell even as he passed him to slip inside. Maxwell hoped he wasn't making a mistake letting this boy into the doctor's office.

Maxwell shouldered the crate and followed the kid inside.

“Hullo, Miss Hattie.”

“Good morning, Jeremiah. What are you doing here?”

Maxwell set the crate on the floor in the hall. The tiny storeroom was too small for all three of them, but he could hear everything the two were saying. He couldn't help noticing that Hattie's greeting for the boy was noticeably warmer than the one Maxwell had received minutes ago.

“Hopsie hurt his foot th'other day” came the boy's voice. “See here, this scratch? It's all red and puffy.”

Maxwell peeked around the corner of the storeroom door. There. The pry bar Hattie must've used to open the other crate lay in the corner. He reached in to get it. Didn't mean to glance at her, but her head came up and their eyes met. She looked away quickly, almost as if she was embarrassed.

“Yes, it does look inflamed. Swollen,” she amended.

“He ain't hoppin' right on it. You reckon it's something you can fix?”

With the lid off the crate, Maxwell found gauze, catgut for stitching wounds and more medicine bottles inside. He took out an armful of the supplies and slipped back into the room, going to the cabinet. Hattie had vacated it to kneel next to the boy. Maxwell opened drawers and the lower cabinet doors until he matched up the surgical thread with where it belonged.

“Who's he, Miss Hattie? You got a new beau?” Though the boy whispered, in the close proximity of the room, Maxwell heard every word.

“Certainly not!” she muttered.

Maxwell passed her on the way back to the crate, but she kept focused on the rabbit. In profile, her cheek and ear were an interesting shade of pink. She hadn't needed to sound so adamant about his not being her beau.

“Maxwell is a medical student. He's going to assist my papa in the clinic when he's not working with the horses out at his father's ranch.”

“Didn't think cowboys was real smart,” the kid mumbled. “He's really going to school to be a doctor?”

Hattie coughed. To cover a laugh? “Yes, um...yes, he is.”

Face flaming and loaded down with another armful of medicines, Maxwell passed the two again. This time the boy scrutinized him. Maxwell nodded, wondering what he was looking for so hard.

“You know anything about rabbits?”

Maxwell knew how to make a nice rabbit stew, but he doubted the boy wanted to hear that.

“Not really.”

The boy shrugged and returned his attention to Hattie as Maxwell continued unloading the supplies. “So, Miss Hattie...Hopsie's inf—inflamed leg. Can you do anything for him?”

Maxwell watched from the corner of his eye. Hattie considered the animal gravely, treating the boy's request as important as if he'd consulted her about a human patient. As if she did this kind of thing every day. “I think we can try some antiseptic on it, see if we can get the infection to go away. That should make him—Hopsie—feel much better.”

Maxwell made several trips between his crate and the storeroom shelves while she applied antiseptic to the rabbit's wound and dressed it in a small bandage. He couldn't keep his eyes from the graceful movements of her hands. Stanzas of poetry about her hands and fingers filled his head, but he tried to shake them out. He needed his concentration today to help the good doctor.

Finally the boy left with a thank-you and a small hug around Hattie's waist.

Maxwell's intense curiosity wouldn't let him keep silent. “Do you treat a lot of pets, then?”

She kept her face averted and returned to unloading her own crate. “Some. Papa thinks it creates rapport with the children, and if they later come into the clinic to be treated for an injury or sickness, they aren't frightened.”

Maxwell could understand that. But her care for the boy had seemed to go above and beyond what her words implied. She'd taken time with him, been patient and pretended that a rabbit was important. Made the boy feel important.

Her actions tugged at a part of Maxwell's heart.

A bell jangled, and his head came up.

“Must be a patient, coming in the front,” Hattie murmured. Before she could turn to go, the back door opened and closed.

Doc Powell peeked in at them. “Oh, good. You're here, Maxwell. And good morning, Hattie dear.”

“Just trying to familiarize myself with the clinic,” Maxwell said, shooting a look at Hattie. Willing her to know he wasn't trying to get in her way or step on her toes.

She looked away, brushed by him on her way out of the room. “I'll go see who came in.”

Obviously, she was still sore at him. Whether for his reaction to seeing her in the chair or scaring her this morning, he didn't know.

He would do well to get her on his side of things. She could be an invaluable ally as he tried to learn as much as possible from the doctor. But she would barely speak to him.

He needed to find some way to bring her around. Without making a fool of himself.

* * *

It was midmorning before Hattie truly felt as if she'd gotten her feet under her.

She hadn't meant to snap at Maxwell this morning, but his presence had immediately overwhelmed her. The moment she'd seen him in the waiting room, all the attraction she'd felt at supper the other night had rushed forward.

He seemed to fill the storeroom just by standing in the doorway.

And she hadn't wanted him to think less of her for seeing her in the wheeled chair. It was prideful but true.

She took solace in the familiar routines of setting up and wiping down the exam room between patients, greeting patients and bringing supplies when her father needed them.

Maxwell remained by her papa's side during the exams. Hattie's usual place.

Perhaps she shouldn't worry so much. The cowboy had another job for the summer, and if they shared the duties, Hattie could still prove her worth.

She just needed to make sure that, if there were any advanced cases, she was there to prove her knowledge to her papa. She had another four weeks before she had to be in Omaha for the scholarship interview.

The usual morning spurt of patients had thinned by lunchtime, and Hattie stuck her head into the surgery, where Papa and Maxwell had retired. She found them in the middle of what seemed to be a friendly argument.

“My professor insists that vaccines save lives,” Maxwell said from where he sat on top of the surgery table, legs dangling. Except for how very tall he was, he looked like a child, his expression open and eager to learn. She probably often looked the same.

“And yet, I've seen many cases of tuberculosis brought on by the practice.” Papa leaned back against the far cabinet, arms crossed.

“What about diseases that can't be survived without vaccination? Like rabies?”

She cleared her throat and both men turned toward her. “The waiting room is empty. I thought I'd go home and see if I can help Mama with the lunch preparations.”

Maxwell hopped down from the table. “I'll walk down to the café.”

“Nonsense. You're welcome to eat with Hattie and me. The wife always makes plenty.”

“I don't want to wear out my welcome.”

Hattie let them argue as she preceded them into the hall. She turned to lock the front door of the clinic and then met the two men on the back stoop. Maxwell took her arm momentarily to guide her down the step, quickly moving away once she'd gained her footing below. A polite gesture her father often seemed to forget.

“What's your opinion on vaccinations?”

Frazzled by the simple touch of his hand, it took moments for Hattie to realize Maxwell was speaking to her.

She knew her papa's opinion; he disagreed with vaccinations. He truly believed what he'd been telling Maxwell inside, that many times they resulted in other complications for the patients.

“Hattie hasn't had a formal education,” her papa interjected.

Not unless he counted the many texts from his library that she had read and reread. Certainly she'd never taken a formal lecture, but she knew much about the human body from her hands-on experience. Did Papa even notice?

But Maxwell had asked for her opinion. It raised him in her estimation.

She phrased her answer carefully. “I can concede your point. Rabies vaccinations could save a life when nothing else can. But is it necessary to vaccinate children against smallpox if there has been no recent outbreak?”

“The vaccination won't do any good if the child contracts the disease,” he argued softly. His green eyes were alight with interest and intelligence, the way they had been the other night when he'd talked about his university classes.

She turned her face away to look at the opposite side of the street.

She couldn't afford the distraction he presented. Even if he did invite her into the conversation as if she was an equal participant. Even if he was handsome and intelligent and the only person of the male variety who had interested her in a long time. Most of the others were intimidated by her. But not Maxwell, it seemed.

She needed to stay focused. Her future in the medical profession demanded it.

* * *

The man was a distraction, even in Sunday worship service.

“It's a lovely day for a picnic,” Mama said as Hattie attempted to avert her face from Maxwell White and his family. They did indeed take up an entire pew. She'd been aware of Maxwell sitting kitty-corner behind her since he'd come in. And when they'd sung hymns, his strong baritone rang out and sent chills down her spine.

It had taken all of her effort to concentrate on the preacher's sermon.

And now several young ladies Hattie recognized from town were tittering nearby. She distinctly heard the whispered words
doctor
and
back in town.
Were they already setting their caps for the young medical student?