Authors: Jillian Hart
It shouldn't bother her. In fact, if Maxwell began paying court to one of the pretty young ladies in town, he might have less time to devote to her father's clinic.
But something about it rankled, and she didn't want to dwell on why it bothered her.
“Are you still joining Emily Castlerock and her husband for the meal?” Mama asked, bringing Hattie out of her embarrassing thoughts. “Will any other gentlemen be joining you? Single gentlemen?”
“Yes to the first, and no to the second, Mama.” Hattie scooped up the small basket with the cake she'd baked and settled it over her forearm. Part of her wished she could better attend to her mama's expectations, but she'd been dreaming of being a doctor and working with papa as a true partner for so long that she didn't dare to try to court, as well. She'd never heard of a man who wanted a doctor for a wife.
Mama sighed. “Your father and I may go ahead and return home. He's overtired from his workload this week and will be better off resting this afternoon instead of socializing.”
“Fine. I can walk home.” Bear Creek was small enough that she needn't worry. The saloons weren't open on Sundays, and she should be safe enough. “Will you remind Papa that I'd like to speak to him tonight?” Hattie's stomach swooped as she said the words. If everything went as planned, she might be able to secure her papa's agreement tonight.
Her mother nodded idly. “Perhaps some young man will offer to escort you home. I can hope, can't I?” The last part was whispered as Mama turned away to find Papa in the crowded aisle.
“Hattie!”
She spotted Emily's effusive wave over the heads of several people and edged her way toward the outside door to meet up with her friend.
She joined Emily just before the door, and they swept outside together, linking arms, with Hattie's basket on the outside.
“Sam is already spreading the blanket. I asked him to find a bit of shade.” Emily gave a chagrined smile, her free hand absently going to her gently burgeoning belly. “It seems I can never get cool enough anymore.”
Hattie chuckled. “It will pass in time.”
“I hope so. Er...I hope you don't mind that Sam invited a friend to join us. And it looks like Oscar and Sarah White have settled their blanket next to ours, as well.”
Hattie had been idly scanning the picnic area outside the church, but now her eyes went right to the large oak near the back of the church, where Sam Castlerock stood with Maxwell and another man she vaguely recognized as Maxwell's older brother. Next to the quilt beneath the tree, another blanket had been spread and a woman a few years older than Hattie unloaded a picnic blanket, a swaddled infant on the blanket next to her.
She almost turned back to find her parents and return home with them. But she wasn't a coward. She could endure one lunch with the man she found so disarming. And if Mama heard about it later, perhaps she would be happy, as well. She asked after Maxwell nearly every day, as if sensing the interest Hattie needed to deny.
“Afternoon, Miss Hattie.” Sam greeted her with a smile. He turned the same on his wife, but the expression became intimate and warm.
Hattie looked away. Right into Maxwell's face.
“Hattie.” He nodded, tipping his hat but not removing it.
Either he'd spent some time in the sun without his hat between when she'd seen him Friday and this moment, or he was blushing slightly.
It seemed coincidental that Sam and Emily had innocently invited Maxwell to join the picnic Hattie had previously agreed to. But a deeper question was, had Maxwell put them up to it? Did he have some motive to do so? To attempt to get in her good graces?
She didn't know, and he didn't speak.
The awkward moment was broken when a small girl of about three ran up and clung to Maxwell's leg. “Unca Max!”
He bent and scooped up the young girl, bouncing her in his arms before settling her on his hip.
“Who's this?” Hattie asked, grateful for something to draw her attention from the uncomfortable thought that Emily might've set her up.
“My niece Velma. Her two older sisters are around somewhere. Probably running around with Breanna.”
The girl's glossy dark fall of hair, darkly tanned skin and deep coffee-colored eyes were a contrast to the woman on the nearby blanket, who had a fair complexion and blond hair, and Maxwell's brother, who had brown hair but fair skin, as well. And...she had two older sisters?
Hattie darted a confused glance at Maxwell's brother, scrutinizing his face as he knelt to help his wife.
“The girls are adopted,” Maxwell explained quietly, as if he'd sensed her questions without her having to ask.
“That's right.” She remembered now, a little embarrassed that it had taken his reminder to jog her memory. “I suppose I've been spending too much time with Papa in the clinic and not enough socializing. I don't know that I've officially met your brother.”
Introductions were made and bodies found seats, and Hattie found herself sandwiched between the two couples on their respective blankets, far too close to Maxwell, who balanced the toddler on his knee.
“I'll take Velma,” Sarah said, but Maxwell shook his head.
“She's fine where she is. Not bothering me.”
As she settled her skirts, Hattie's gaze was drawn behind Maxwell to the small white dog crouching half-hidden in the green grass, the little creature he'd brought to supper.
“Still following you around, I see,” she said.
He glanced over his shoulder, then turned a chagrined smile back on Hattie. “Can't seem to shake him, no matter if I'm out rustling up the horses or at the barn or the bunkhouse.”
The dog's tail swished through the grass.
“At least he is polite,” she said, smiling a little in return.
Hattie attempted to focus on Emily and the food being served, but couldn't help being aware of the man next to her, his quiet voice conversing with the tot and her excited chatter in response.
He was good with Velma. It probably shouldn't be a surprise, with how many siblings he had.
“Has my friend been a pain underfoot in the clinic?” Sam asked as he passed her a filled plate.
Maxwell's head didn't come up, but she had the sense he was listening.
“Maxwell and I haven't had much of a chance to work together.” Hattie considered stuffing the whole biscuit in her mouth to avoid having to answer further. Unfortunately, her mother would be mortified by such a lack of manners. “Papa seems content with his help.” And content to stick Hattie with the administrative tasks and cleaning.
But she couldn't be satisfied with the way things were. Not yet.
* * *
He was going to kill his brother and Sam.
Maxwell thought he'd kept his attraction to Hattie under his hat, but somehow Oscar must've found out and orchestrated the picnic lunch with Hattie in attendance. He couldn't imagine their wives putting them up to it, so it
must've
been the two men who had conspired against him.
He knew his brother probably had his best interests at heart. One of Oscar's first interactions with Sarah had been at a picnic for a town fund-raiser, so no doubt he thought the situation perfect for Maxwell to charm Hattie. But Maxwell's discomfort at Oscar and Sam's maneuvering choked him up and made it nearly impossible for him to speak.
It reminded him of the time eight years ago when Penny had invited Emily to sit with their family at a barn raising and he'd been humiliated by his youngest brother, Seb.
In fact, it might behoove him to keep an eye out for the boys. Penny had long since corralled their most devious impulses, but he wouldn't put it past one of his brothersâor even Breannaâto play a prank in hopes of embarrassing him.
And he was already embarrassed enough.
“Hattie. Oh, Hattie!”
He looked up to find a gaggle of beruffled young women descending on them. He choked on the bite of cake he'd been chewing. Coughing, eyes watering, he blinked several times, then took a drink of his sweet tea.
Finally breathing freely, he looked up to find two young women speaking with Hattie, who had risen to join them. Only two, not the large group he'd initially thought. And feared.
He knew his ma had hoped that being away at university would build his confidence, remove some of his shyness around the opposite sex. And it had, up until Elizabeth, the girl he'd planned to marry, had broken things off with him. And that had come after another young lady had found him wanting, as well. His birth ma had told him up until he was eleven that no woman would ever want him. And after those rejections at college, it seemed she was right.
Safer to assume he would never marry. So he'd fallen back into his old habits of avoidance and quiet. He was just as tongue-tied now as he'd been at sixteen.
* * *
“Can we join you for a moment?” Two of Hattie's friends folded themselves onto the very edge of the blanket and darted glances at Maxwell from beneath their eyelashes.
“Have you met Maxwell White?” Hattie asked. “He's a medical student back in town for the summer.” She suspected they already knew it, but pretended ignorance of their intention in joining the group. “My friends, Annabelle and Corrine.”
Interestingly, he was even more pink than he'd been before.
He doffed his hat and reached out to shake their hands, turning the tot on his knee over to Oscar.
The girls twittered and preened beneath his notice.
“Where have you been in school?” asked Annabelle.
“Denver.”
“Oh, Denver. I've only ever visited Cheyenne.”
He nodded, shifting his legs on the blanket. His boot knocked into Hattie's shoe and he cleared his throat. He didn't say more.
“And do you find the lectures diverting?”
“Yes.”
Annabelle appeared crestfallen at his lack of conversation, lips forming a small, attractive pout.
“We missed you at the poetry club reading last night,” Corrine said to Hattie.
Maxwell's head came up, but then he looked away, hand flexing on his knee.
“I couldn't make it.” Hattie had been worried her nerves would act up after a busy Saturday on her feet at the clinic.
“What's the poetry club?” asked Sam.
Maxwell shot a glare at his friend. Had Sam seen Maxwell's interest, as Hattie had, or was he simply making conversation?
“It's an opportunity for some of the young people in town to get together,” Annabelle explained. “We have a poetry reading and refreshments and time to chat.”
“You should come next time.” Corrine directed her statement at Maxwell, though he was looking down at his hands.
“It was Wanda's brainchild.” Corrine went on when Maxwell didn't respond. She pointed over her shoulder and Hattie's gaze followed.
The grocer's daughter met Hattie's gaze with a glare. While they weren't rivals, the other girl hadn't particularly liked Hattie since her family had arrived in town.
After a few more polite exchanges, through which Maxwell was noticeably quiet, the other two girls left.
Hattie actually heard a soft sigh escape the man beside her.
She shouldn't even care that he was awkward but couldn't help herself from noticing the color high in his cheeks. He kept his face downturned, and his hat brim hid most of his expression. Probably Annabelle and Corrine hadn't even noticed. But Hattie had.
Her heart thumped with compassion. She knew what it was like to be a little different than everyone else. To not quite fit in.
But what kept this fit, handsome young man from doing so? There was something deeper behind his reticence to talk to the young women. She was almost sure of it.
His brother captured his attention with a quiet comment Hattie couldn't make out.
She was still idly wondering about it a few moments later when two boys of about six ran up. The white dog darted away, barely escaping being stepped on.
“Maxwellâ” one of them gasped.
The man scooped the child onto his knee, where the toddler had been shortly before. “What's the matter?” He was completely unruffled by the boy's upset.
“Bobby cut his hand,” the boy panted, “and I told him you was a doctor...and could help.”
Maxwell sat the first boy beside him and motioned Bobby onto the blanket.
“I'm not a doctor. Yet.” She had to admire the determination in his voiceâit mirrored her own. “But let's take a look.”
The boy held out a grubby hand, palm up. Too dirty to see much. Typical of a little boy.
Anticipating what he would need, Hattie already had her handkerchief out. She wetted it in the Mason jar of water she'd been drinking from and passed it to Maxwell, ignoring the jolt she felt when her fingers brushed his palm.
“Thanks,” he murmured. To the boy, he said, “Have you met Miss Hattie? She's Doc Powell's nurse. This is my brother Walt and his friend Bobby.”
Both boys turned to her with wide eyes. She admired the way he'd distracted them as he worked to wipe the grime off the boy's palm.
“I'm not really a nurse,” Hattie said softly.
“Might as well be,” Maxwell returned as he handed her back the now-soiled handkerchief. “You've got enough experience. You helped save the man who'd been shot.”
She fidgeted with her skirt. Wished his words didn't affect her, but they sent a bolt of pleasure through her.
“What do you think, Nurse Hattie?” he asked, extending the boy's hand for her to see. There was a thin scratch on the surface, with only a few beads of blood. Nothing that would require stitches or even much of a bandage. And yet Maxwell treated it seriously, not downplaying his brother's concern for his friend.
“Hmm.” She pretended to consider it, and their eyes met momentarily. She was stunned again at the intense green of Maxwell's eyes and had to look away. “I think a bandage is the best course of treatment. It will keep the wound clean. But I've used my handkerchief.”