Love Inspired Historical December 2013 Bundle: Mail-Order Mistletoe Brides\The Wife Campaign\A Hero for Christmas\Return of the Cowboy Doctor (72 page)

“Here,” said Emily, passing a clean, white cloth from Hattie's other side.

Emily's eyes shone with interest, and Hattie was suddenly reminded that she and Maxwell were not alone with the boys. A glance at Oscar and Sarah's blanket revealed they were watching the exchange, as well.

“Thanks,” Hattie muttered to her friend.

Emily's knowing gaze sent a shaft of discomfort through Hattie. Whatever her friend was thinking, she wasn't interested in the cowboy medical student. No matter how good he was with kids. Or how handsome he was.

She wasn't interested. She couldn't afford to be, couldn't afford to lose sight of her goals. Being a doctor was too important to her.

Perhaps she needed to go back to some of her father's texts. If she could prove she could diagnose some of the injuries and sickness they were bound to see in the coming days, her father would have to see things Hattie's way.

She could only hope.

Chapter Four

“T
he swelling appears to be minor....”

Hattie turned her back to stifle the grin that wanted to escape. If Annabelle's ankle was swollen at all, Hattie couldn't see it. Several days after the church picnic, it was clear her friend had manufactured the injury simply to have an excuse to see the cowboy doctor. And she hadn't been the first. Wanda had been one of the first patients yesterday morning, sporting a small burn she'd sustained in the kitchen. Something Hattie's own mother could've attended to.

“Does this hurt?” Maxwell asked.

“Not—not too badly.”

Hattie turned back to the tableau in front of her. Her father was in the surgery next door, talking to a farmer who had a cancerous mass in his upper stomach. Hattie would much rather be in on that discussion, listening to her father speak on the merits and dangers of surgery to remove the mass. Especially after papa had put off their discussion about her schooling again.

But her father had insisted she accompany Maxwell into this sham appointment of Annabelle's for propriety's sake.

The young woman sat with shoe off and skirt demurely covering all of her leg except her ankle, which she had supposedly twisted.

Her fluttery-lashed gaze locked on Maxwell's face made Hattie a bit nauseous.

To his merit, he was completely focused on the other girl's supposed injury and seemed oblivious to her interest in him. It was so different from his manner outside of the clinic that Hattie was surprised, to say the least.

He rotated the ankle, his strong fingers closing over the joint. Hattie knew he would be able to tell if anything felt out of place, though she sincerely doubted there was anything wrong.

Finally making some internal determination, he released the ankle with a nod. “You can put your...your stocking and shoe back on now.” It was the first time he'd seemed disconcerted during the interview. He turned his back as if to allow Annabelle privacy.

Observing the speed with which the other girl was able to do up the hooks on her stylish shoe, Hattie knew there was nothing seriously wrong. She moved to her friend's side and offered an elbow to help the other girl down from the examination table.

Hattie gave her friend a reproving glance, at which the other girl flushed delicately. However, Annabelle quickly returned her brown-eyed gaze to the doctor in training. “What should I do?”

“Rest. Try to stay off of the ankle as much as you can. If it starts paining you, elevate it. It should be all right in a few days. Maybe a couple of weeks at the outside. If it gets worse, come back and Doc Powell can look at it.”

Annabelle looked up into his face, giving her widest smile as they both turned toward the hallway. Hattie followed them a few steps as they moved to the empty waiting room and paused near the door.

“Thank you so much for your kind attention,” Annabelle gushed.

Hattie couldn't see his face, but the back of Maxwell's neck was turning red. “I was just...ah...doing my job. Or, well...what I hope will be my job—that is, after I'm able to return to my schooling. And finish.”

Annabelle pretended not to notice his evident nervousness. “Will you have time for a luncheon break tomorrow? I know my mother would love you to come share the noon meal with us—and thank you for your help today.”

“Well, I don't know—”

Papa and the farmer joined them from the back room, forestalling Annabelle from pushing Maxwell into the invitation. She took her leave as the farmer did, with one last, regretful glance.

Hattie glanced out the window and smiled. Her friend wasn't limping at all as she crossed the street toward her mother's dress shop.

“Everything all right with Miss Perkins?” Papa asked Maxwell as they turned and walked back down the hall to the examining room.

“Probably a minor turned ankle.” Maxwell said. Did he really not know?

Hattie snorted as she bent to straighten a basket of extra linens kept behind the desk in the corner of the waiting room.

“Hattie?” Papa asked. “Do you have something to add?”

She shook out the top linen to refold it. “Only that I don't believe Annabelle twisted her ankle at all.”

“Are you saying Maxwell's diagnosis was incorrect?” Papa challenged her. “On what basis?”

“There was no bruising, no discoloration like there should've been if there was a real injury.”

Maxwell's sharp green gaze landed on her. Considering her. Actively listening to her, in contrast to her papa, who had already turned away.

“The young lady claimed to be in pain,” Maxwell said.

Hattie motioned to her father. “How often have you told me that sometimes patients will give false information or not tell the whole story? That a doctor has to read between the lines?”

“But why would she do that?” Maxwell asked, seeming genuinely perplexed.

“To get your attention,” Hattie informed him. “She's sweet on you.”

“What?” Maxwell sputtered. His face mottled with color.

“Hmm. Well, perhaps it was good that you were involved in the examination, Hattie.”

“Sir, I don't— Why would she— That can't be right,” Maxwell said. He turned to Hattie, as if for clarification. “You must be mistaken.”

“I don't think so.” She fluttered her hand in his direction but didn't look directly at him. “A handsome man such as yourself...even at Sunday's picnic the young ladies were eyeing you.”

Now his face was almost purple. He clutched the back of his neck with one hand. A nervous gesture or an unconscious one?

Papa patted him on the shoulder. “I'm afraid a single young man like yourself in a profession like ours will be chased by mamas and daughters alike.”

* * *

Maxwell's face was on fire.

Hattie thinks I'm handsome.

He should probably be irritated that she'd challenged his diagnosis—although her observations seemed correct—but the thought that throbbed in the forefront of his brain was that Hattie found him pleasing to the eye.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, not knowing what to do with them or what he really felt, still stuck on that one thought until Doc Powell said, “I've noticed your bedside manner when you are with some of the young ladies needs...shall we say, some work.”

Now humiliation raced through him for another reason. Maxwell knew his manners tended to be awkward when he didn't know a lady well. In a clinical situation he was usually fine, but put him in a social situation and he didn't know what to say or do.

“You're an intelligent young man,” the doctor said. “But if you can't speak to your patients, you will have trouble throughout your career.”

Maxwell barely heard the compliment in the doctor's words, but the criticism hit home. He nodded. And was relieved to hear the jingle of a harness outside the front of the clinic. “I'll see if that's a new patient.” And get some air. He needed to think. Plan.

Figure out a way to talk to ladies without sounding like a blithering idiot.

Out in the fresh spring air, he took a deep breath.

“Maxwell!” a female voice called out and he flinched. Then realized who it was.

“Ma. What're you doing here?”

His pa rounded the back of the wagon. “I had to come into town to talk to the banker, and your ma insisted on coming along to have a visit with you.” The older man settled one forearm on the wagon railing.

Maxwell met Penny at the wagon bench and swung her down, noting that for an expectant mother nearing her time, she didn't carry much extra weight. A benefit to being an active homesteader's wife.

She reached up and bussed Maxwell's cheek. “I'm not so cumbersome that I can't come into town for a visit. Since you're either busy at home or busy at the doctor's office, it seems like this is my only choice.” She slid one hand through his arm. They waved to Jonas, who headed down the street, leaving his son to take care of his very pregnant wife. The implied trust swelled Maxwell's chest.

“Maxwell—” Hattie stuck her head out the clinic door. “Oh, hello.”

“Have you met my ma?” he asked, proud to turn to the side with Penny on his arm.

“Yes, of course. How are you today, Mrs. White? Are you here for an examination?”

“Hmm. Well, I wanted to sneak Maxwell away for lunch if he was available. Perhaps I should speak to the doctor before we return home.”

“Fine. I'll tell Papa.” Hattie's smile dimmed when she included Maxwell in her gaze. His heart dipped. She might think he was handsome—so she said—but she didn't like him much.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. How often had his birth ma told him how worthless he was? That no woman would ever love him?

Penny had. With her support, he'd learned to read, and her encouragement—and Oscar's—had put him on the road to medical school. She loved him as his own mother hadn't been able to. He couldn't ask for more than that, could he?

“How have you been feeling?” he asked, making an effort to turn his morose thoughts just as he guided his ma toward the little café on Main Street. “Not overdoing it?”

She laughed. “You sound like Jonas. He caught me on the bottom rung of the ladder in the barn and about had a conniption—”

“What were you doing climbing the ladder?”

“I wasn't.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Breanna was in the hayloft, where we've stored some things for the new baby, fetching them for me. I was waiting patiently at the bottom—”

“Mmm-hmm.” He raised one brow at his ma, knowing her penchant for impatience.

She laughed again. He'd missed her so much when he'd been gone. Missed her ready smile and the love she gave so freely to the family around her.

They ducked into the café and found a table. After they'd ordered the daily special, Penny laid one hand over her bulging belly and turned her quizzical gaze on him.

“And how are things going at the clinic? I know your plans for medical school haven't exactly come to fruition, but do you feel you can learn something working with Doctor Powell?”

As he thought about the doctor's criticism—albeit a deserved one—Maxwell's unease must've shown in his face. Penny leaned forward. “What? Did something happen?”

“Nothing bad.” He stumbled over the words. “It's just...” How did he even phrase what had taken place this morning? “A young lady came into the clinic, but the nurse—I mean, the doctor's daughter—thought she was feigning her complaint. So she could...er—invite me for lunch.” His neck heated just saying the words.

Penny's eyes lit up. “Who was it?”

He really didn't need his ma getting any romantic ideas. He shook his head. “Doesn't matter. It's not just this morning. Sometimes I have trouble...conversing easily with...” He shrugged.

She seemed to know. “Young ladies of a marriageable age? Still? Did my lessons before you left for university fall on deaf ears?”

He wrinkled his nose at the humor in her tone. Crossed his arms over his chest, although he knew she wasn't laughing at his plight. She would never do something so hurtful. He'd seen her nearly come to blows with an old schoolteacher over Breanna's education and knew how fiercely she cared for each of her children, both adopted and natural.

“Do you remember when I first came to know your family?” She brushed an escaped lock of her auburn hair off her cheek. “And you asked me for help talking to Emily—now Emily Castlerock?”

“Of course.” He shifted in his seat, instinctively knowing what she was going to say.

“Just be yourself. You've got no trouble relating to any of your brothers or sisters, or even young women who have become your friends. Don't worry so much about it.”

He remembered when she'd said the same to him at age sixteen. He'd had trouble believing her then. And he'd never told her specifically what had happened with Elizabeth or the other college girl. That his being himself hadn't been enough to hold either young woman's interest, much less her love. He still couldn't quite believe Penny's words.

And apparently, she wasn't finished yet. “You are a charming young man with such potential. It's no wonder some of the young ladies in Bear Creek are noticing your fine qualities.”

He shifted again.

He didn't plan on marriage for his future. Couldn't. He'd been surprised when Jonas had accepted him into his large family, and even more so when Penny had come to love him. He held no illusions of finding love, the kind of true love that made a strong marriage, not after the childhood he'd had. But what about friendship?

“What about...if there's someone who doesn't particularly like me...but I'd like to be her friend. What should I do?”

For a moment, a fierce light shone in his ma's eyes. “My advice is the same. Be yourself.”

He'd been trying. Working to find natural ways to include Hattie in his conversations with the doctor. And she still didn't seem to like him.

He didn't think he'd done anything to offend her.

Couldn't think of anything he hadn't already done to earn her trust.

How could he believe what Penny said, that he was enough as himself, when it obviously wasn't true?

* * *

Hattie attended Mrs. White after she and Maxwell returned from their noon meal and his mother had spoken to the doctor.

“Thank you,” Mrs. White said as Hattie helped her off of the examination table. “My balance isn't what it used to be.”

The older woman looked at Hattie. “I know we haven't met other than once or twice, but Maxwell only has kind things to say about you.”

Hattie half turned away, embarrassment staining her cheeks. She fiddled with the bow on her full-length apron.

“I'd like to ask a favor—from one woman to another, you understand.”

Now Hattie's head came up.