Love Inspired Historical December 2013 Bundle: Mail-Order Mistletoe Brides\The Wife Campaign\A Hero for Christmas\Return of the Cowboy Doctor (83 page)

“Put your hand out,” he directed her.

When she hesitated, he used his free hand to cup hers, helped her offer the horse the chunk of carrot. Once it was gone, Maxwell scratched beneath the animal's chin, waiting. Hattie took a breath and then tentatively raised her hand to touch the horse's forelock.

“That's it.” Maxwell encouraged both horse and woman, keeping his voice low and soothing.

Hattie settled her palm against the mare's nose, inhaling but not moving away when the animal rubbed against her touch.

“You're not afraid of surgery, but a little old horse...” Maxwell teased.

“A patient can't trample me,” she retorted. But her voice was soft, and she seemed interested in the animal. “She's beautiful.”

With the carrot gone, the horse lost interest in them and instead turned to sniff the white dog, who was behaving remarkably calmly and lying in the grass nearby. The two animals touched noses briefly before the horse wandered off.

Maxwell and Hattie stood for several more minutes, watching the animals graze placidly. Did she realize she still huddled close to him? He couldn't concentrate on anything else, could barely catch his breath. Finally, he registered the slant of the afternoon sun.

“We should get back.” But he wasn't in any hurry to return to the noise of his family or take Hattie back to her parents' place.

“But?” she asked intuitively, looking up at him.

He was drawn to her, as the mare had been drawn to his whistle, and found himself turning to face her.

“But...my brothers seem to think I should kiss you, and this might be our last chance to be alone.” He didn't know where he got the courage to say the words. Maybe he was dizzy from staring into her eyes, making an examination of her golden eyelashes. Or maybe his brothers' constant teasing had finally gotten to him.

But she didn't back away, didn't recoil in horror. Her eyes crinkled as her lips turned slightly upward. “Hmm. Perhaps this is one of the rare times your brothers might have the right idea.”

He swallowed hard. A moment of panic flared through him.

“I don't really know...how...” He raised a shaking hand, touched her cheek lightly. Her skin was incredibly soft, softer than anything he'd ever touched before. His fingertips slid gently against her jaw, and his thumb brushed her cheekbone.

Her chin shifted slightly up, toward him. “You're not afraid of a thousand-pound animal, but a little kiss...” Her teasing whisper came from so close that the warmth of her breath brushed his mouth.

And then she raised up, or he leaned down, and their lips met. She tasted of sunshine and coffee. He wanted her closer. His hand slid from her cheek to the nape of her neck. Her hands came up and clutched his sides, as if she wanted to be closer, too.

It could've been moments or minutes later when they parted. He kept his hands at her waist, steadying them both. They both panted; her lips looked bee-stung, her eyes soft and warm.

He wanted to do it all over again.

But a shout from behind had both of them turning away from the horses and back toward the house.

Seb was running toward them at an all-out gallop, his boots kicking up grass and dirt behind him. “Ma's havin' the baby!”

Chapter Twelve

T
he house slowly settled around the chaos of the baby's arrival until the infant actually made his entrance into the world, well into the night. The smaller children had been tucked into bed, and the older boys sent out to the bunkhouse, save Maxwell, who waited in the kitchen, keeping a pot of coffee warm.

Hattie had one of the brothers ride to town with a note informing her parents she wouldn't be home until the morning, providing that the baby was born. She'd actually tried to have Penny send for her papa, but the woman had said the first two births had gone fine and she preferred Hattie to assist. So that was what had happened.

Jonas and Hattie greeted the squirming, red-faced infant and introduced him to a tired but dreamy-eyed Penny.

Hattie watched the couple furtively as she cleaned up, changing the linens on the bed and such. Jonas knelt next to Penny's rocking chair, both of their heads bent over the small bundle Penny held.

Was this what Maxwell would be like as a father? Tender, loving, gentle? She could imagine so. He gave so much to the patients he helped at the clinic. She thought he would be even more so with his own children.

While helping Penny with the baby, she'd only had snatched moments to reflect on what had happened between her and Maxwell out in the horse pasture earlier—or was it yesterday, now that it was so late?

His kiss had surprised her—at first. He'd been tentative, considering...overthinking things in the way she'd come to expect from him. Then their lips had met and she found he kissed with the same passion he threw himself into doctoring with.

Her toes had curled inside her Sunday boots. Even now, her hands trembled as she smoothed the bedspread, remembering the power behind his kiss.

A kiss she'd returned. She hadn't been able to stop herself from responding. She had gone from distrusting the man only a few weeks ago to friendship to...something deeper. Something she didn't dare define.

“Here we go.” Hattie finished tucking a clean sheet and quilt over the feather-tick mattress. “Do you want me to wash up the baby while you get settled in? Then you can nurse, and after that you can both get some much-needed rest.” Hattie had assisted her father enough to know what needed doing.

“Yes, thank you. I could sleep for a week.”

Hattie moved to take the baby gently from Penny's arms, lips quirking. “I doubt you will, once this little one discovers where his food comes from.”

They shared a smile. Hattie liked Maxwell's adoptive mother. She was kind, and her love for all the children was ever-present. While Hattie had had occasion to wonder if her own mother even knew her most precious dreams and wishes, Penny had practically pushed Maxwell into medical school, it seemed.

“We'll be right back.”

She found Maxwell in the kitchen, his arms folded on the long plank table and staring into the fire.

He roused when she entered, half rising from his seat. Their eyes met, locked. She hadn't imagined his intensity from earlier—it still burned like the coals behind him in the hearth.

She looked down at the bundle in her arms, cheeks warming. “Want to say hello to your new little brother? He needs a bit of washing up.”

He came to her, peeking over her shoulder, so close that she couldn't help but be aware of him. Especially when the heat of his palm seared her lower back. “He's got Penny's red hair. I heard him squalling for a minute there—he must've gotten her lungs, as well.”

She shifted—her feet were starting to hurt in the Sunday shoes—and Maxwell moved. “I kept some water heating on the back of the stove. D'you think a large cooking pot would do for him?”

“It should be all right. We aren't going to dunk him in or anything, just give him a good scrubbing.”

Maxwell threw several towels and washcloths on the table while Hattie deposited the small gown and clean cloth diaper Penny had provided nearby.

“You doing okay?” Maxwell asked as he moved a large cast-iron pot to the center of the table. He went back to the stove for the warm water. “You've been on your feet a long time. If you need to sit down, I'll do what needs to be done.”

Weeks ago, before she'd really known him, she would've been offended by his query. But now, having discovered the real Maxwell, she knew he was only being sensitive to her needs.

“I'm fine. Still a little shaky from the adrenaline of delivering a healthy baby. You should've been in there with me.” They shared a look, a remembrance of the conversation they'd had before about him not wanting to witness his adoptive mother giving birth.

He half grinned and half shrugged. “I'll have to wait for the next time.”

After he'd poured an inch of water into the pot and checked it wasn't too hot, Maxwell settled at her elbow, one knee on the long bench beneath the table.

“Here, cup one hand behind his head,” Hattie told him. “Just above the water. And the other beneath his rump. Hold tight—he'll be slippery once I get started.”

Maxwell gasped softly when he took the baby's weight in his big hands. “He's a tiny one, isn't he? I don't remember Walt being this small, and I was away at college when Ida was born.”

She looked at him sidelong. His concentration, the clear affection for this new scrap of life, touched her.

As they washed him, the baby let them know in no uncertain terms that he didn't appreciate being pulled out of his warm cocoon of linens and subjected to this indignity.

Several moments later, when Hattie had him clothed and swaddled tightly in a blanket, he was still fussing his discontent, but very softly. His eyes drooped and finally closed.

She looked up and had to release a giggle when she noticed the sweat beaded on Maxwell's forehead. “Are
you
all right?” she teased.

“Yes. Just didn't expect him to be that unhappy about it....”

“Get used to it, mister medical student. Not all of your patients will be happy with the treatment you prescribe.”

They shared a glance, the same connection as before. How was it they could read each other so easily now?

“Here, hold him a moment.” Hattie pressed the baby into Maxwell's arms, turning away to remove the apron she'd borrowed from the kitchen earlier. Beneath, she'd donned one of Penny's older dresses, but she'd wear it home and carry her Sunday dress, which was neatly folded on the sofa, when she left in the morning.

When she looked back up, Maxwell was clutching the baby close, his chin tucked nearly to his chest as he looked down at him. The tender look on his face made her breath catch in her chest. He would be a fine father.

With the baby tucked into the crook of his elbow, he reached out for her with his other arm and drew her into his side, enveloping her with his warmth. His jaw brushed the top of her head, the day's scruff catching lightly on the fine hairs at her temple. Her pulse pounded at his nearness.

The baby's tiny rosebud mouth stretched wide in a silent yawn. Hattie's heart expanded. She glanced up at Maxwell to find that same intensity in his eyes as he glanced down on both her and the baby. He brushed a kiss against her forehead, naturally, as if he hadn't thought about the action at all.

“Thanks for helping my ma tonight.”

Her stomach tightened into a small fist. Being here with Maxwell, close like this, made her want things she hadn't thought about since she'd been a small girl. What would it be like to be one of the warm, loving Whites? To be ensconced in the loud, overwhelming crowd that found it easy to show emotions, in contrast to her own family.

To have Maxwell at her side. To be loved by someone as decent, kind and honorable as he was. To have a family of her own.

The thought startled Hattie into pulling away. “I'd better get him back to his mama for some nourishment.”

“And get some rest yourself, I hope,” he said as he handed off the baby to her again.

“Yes. Hopefully, I won't wake Breanna when I crawl in next to her.”

And she didn't.

It was Hattie who lay awake long after she'd returned the baby to Penny and given her a final check.

She couldn't forget Maxwell's kiss or the tenderness in his face when he'd looked down at both her and the baby.

She couldn't imagine her quiet cowboy showing the emotion he had if it wasn't genuine. How deeply did his feelings for her go?

What had she done, letting things grow between them so far?

She genuinely liked him, more than she'd ever liked any man. She respected him, and he respected her abilities, admired her for who she really was. He saw her.

He was the only man she could imagine marrying who would encourage her to practice medicine.

But he also wanted a family. Would he encourage her pursuits until the babies came? What then?

But the more dangerous thought, the question she couldn't shake was...what if she married him and she began wanting the little babe to hold in her arms?

Holding Penny's new son tonight had planted the thought, one that she hadn't considered for herself. She wanted to be a physician. Had wanted it almost half her life. Couldn't imagine being anything else.

Except possibly...a mother.

Could she give up her ambitions for a family?
Should
she?

Chapter Thirteen

T
he next morning, Maxwell stifled the urge to whistle as he guided the wagon toward Bear Creek, Hattie beside him on the bench seat. They shared a companionable silence, and he didn't want to disturb it.

He could fill several journals with verses on how full his heart felt right now. He'd managed to scribble several lines after he'd retired to the bunkhouse early this morning, before his candle had sputtered and he'd fallen into his bunk in a deep, dreamless sleep. He'd woken with more lines running through his head, but with his brothers up and about and Hattie no doubt overwhelmed inside the house with his pa and younger siblings, he hadn't dared to take the journal out again.

Hattie'd been quiet, pensive, almost the whole ride to town, but he supposed she was tired from staying up late helping his ma birth little Andrew.

He was almost sure she returned his growing feelings. He was hopeful. More than hopeful.

He wanted to make a declaration, but he didn't know if it was too soon. He definitely wanted to say something before she left for her scholarship interview in two weeks. He was pretty sure her pa could be won over to let her go to medical school. He had half a mind to speak to the man on Hattie's behalf. Maxwell didn't know what it would mean for a growing relationship between them—if she really did return his feelings—but Hattie needed to see her dreams through.

Maybe he should ask Oscar or Sam for advice on making his feelings known. Wouldn't that shock his brother and best friend, after they'd pushed him so hard in Hattie's direction?

He found himself grinning as the first of Bear Creek's buildings came into sight. The wagon creaked over a rut in the road and Hattie's shoulder jostled against him. She looked up at him, finally.

“What're you smiling about?”

There was no way he was admitting to the rabbit trail his thoughts had taken, so he blurted the first thing that came to his head.

“Just thinking how much I prefer seeing this little cluster of buildings than the outskirts of Denver.” He nodded toward Bear Creek and she followed his gaze.

“You don't like Denver?”

“It's...different. Busier. More crowded.” It reminded him of the bustle of Cheyenne, even though Denver was bigger. And remembering Cheyenne always made him remember his birth ma and scrapping on the streets before he'd met Jonas. He didn't like those memories.

“So, when you graduate medical school, will you seek out a practice in a small town, then?”

He hesitated, remembering how Elizabeth had left him after he'd told her he wanted to practice in a small town. He hadn't heard any complaints from Hattie about living in Bear Creek with her parents, but what if she wanted to live in a bigger city?

“There's a lot of need in small towns,” he hedged. And it was true. He'd seen it himself. “I guess it would depend on my...partner.” He nearly choked on the word—he'd almost said
wife.
Although once it had been a fleeting image, a snatch of a dream, he was beginning to hope more and more that Hattie would be the one working beside him in his practice.

“What about you?” he asked. “Do you want to practice in a big city?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. I hadn't thought that far ahead—still trying to figure out how to get through medical school.” She looked out over the prairie stretching around them. “I suppose there must be equal prejudice against women doctors in either place. Sometimes I consider that a larger city might offer more opportunities to help those who are more forward-thinking, but then perhaps a small town has more need—as you mentioned—and the people might be more likely to seek help from a woman if there were no other choices.”

“I hadn't thought much about what you'd face setting up a practice.”

She directed a wry smile at him. “You saw it yourself with Mr. Spencer. Of the two of us, he looked to you for advice. He barely even heard my recommendation.”

“And yet you saved his life.”

“Yes.” She nodded gravely. “And that changed his mind, but what if we hadn't been able to save him? He could've died because he didn't want a woman treating him.”

“If you were able to work with someone—your father or a...husband—” he nearly swallowed the word but forced himself to go on “—maybe you could gain the trust of your patients that way.”

She didn't look at him, kept looking outward. “Perhaps” came her quiet response.

Within minutes, they'd arrived at her parents' home. He wanted to see her again—soon—in a social way and cleared his throat nervously as he jumped down and helped her from the wagon.

“Can I...come courting?” It was early enough, there were no neighbors out, and he allowed his hands to remain loosely at her waist.

An adorable wrinkle appeared over the bridge of her nose, then smoothed just as quickly as it had come. “Come for supper on Friday.”

He grinned, still soaring from the previous day and night, and dared to brush a kiss against her cheek.

She squeezed his shoulders briefly. “I'll see you at the clinic later.”

If his steps were particularly jaunty as he rounded the wagon, he hoped she didn't notice as she went inside.

* * *

On Tuesday, Hattie excused herself from the men to have lunch with Emily, who'd been by the clinic twice already this week, demanding details about Hattie's excursion to the White homestead on Sunday.

And Hattie wanted a little space from Maxwell's nearly overwhelming presence in the clinic. Although he was still working with his brother part of the time and in the clinic part of the time, when he was there she couldn't ignore him.

He'd been kind and conscientious; the only real change in his behavior was in the warm glances he occasionally gave her—and one intense one she'd caught when he hadn't thought she'd been looking. He'd also left a pressed wildflower for her to find on the storeroom counter when she'd arrived this morning.

She'd spent several minutes daydreaming over the silly flower, twisting it in her fingers and remembering the previous bouquet he'd brought her. She'd been out of sorts and not ready when her papa had come into the room minutes later with a patient—the first time that had ever happened.

Maxwell was courting her.

And she liked the man. So why did she feel so muddled about things between them?

Because she hadn't spared one thought about medical school since their kiss. She'd missed a perfect opportunity to corner her papa in his office the evening before because she'd been caught up in thoughts about the cowboy.

What was wrong with her? She'd wanted to be a doctor for
so long.

The walk to Emily and Sam's homestead took several minutes, but the waving grasses and the peaceful mountains in the distance didn't calm Hattie—on the contrary, she just kept remembering being out in that field with Maxwell and their kiss...and how he'd looked at her. As if she was precious to him.

Relieved when she arrived at her destination, and hoping for a distraction, she knocked and then pushed inside as Emily called out for her to come in.

She found her friend humming tunelessly as she stirred something on the stovetop.

When Emily turned, her entire face was suffused with joy. “Tell me everything,” she ordered, shooing Hattie into a kitchen chair with a wooden spoon.

So Hattie did. Or at least started to, as Emily served them both a hearty stew. Hattie had gotten to their kiss when Emily interrupted her.

“He really did it?” Her friend left the bowl before her forgotten and came around the table to hug Hattie's shoulders, squealing with joy. “Oh, Hattie, I'm so happy for you!”

“Well, thank you.” But Hattie wasn't finished yet. She needed help sorting out her life.

“Just think...” Emily half turned away, going to the small window above her dry sink. “If you marry, you can file for a little homestead—there's one close that Sam has seen, with a little creek running through the property. We'll be neighbors. And Maxwell can work with your papa, already have a practice set up...”

“Yes, but—”

“And our children will grow up together, be the best of friends, just like you and I are close!”

Hattie couldn't tear her eyes from the other woman's hand resting gently on the bulge of her stomach. Remembered how Maxwell had looked holding his new baby brother. Wanted that for herself, too. So much that it surprised her.

Scared her.

She could see the future as Emily described it. See herself in a kitchen, kids at her feet, welcoming Maxwell back from a day working in the clinic with Papa.

But could she really be happy with that future?

“But what about medical school?” Hattie asked.

“Oh, I wouldn't worry. I know Maxwell will finish. He is so determined.” Emily didn't even seem to register Hattie's concerns, lost in a fanciful daydream. She smiled widely. “Hattie, you're so blessed. Maxwell is such a good man.”

Unable to sit still a moment longer, unable to contain the conflicting emotions roiling through her, Hattie jumped out of her chair.

“I meant, what about medical school
for me,
” she blurted out. “What about my dreams? I want to be a doctor. I'm
meant
to be a doctor.” She knew it, down deep inside. God had given her the desire, the skills.

Emily looked at her, surprise registering. She'd told Emily before about her dreams of being a doctor, but had the other woman gotten so caught up in a fantasy that she'd forgotten?

“But don't you want a—a family?”

That was the problem, one that hadn't gotten any clearer with Hattie's visit to her friend. She wanted to be a doctor. But she could also see herself as Maxwell's wife, raising a family alongside him.

Would she be willing to give up her dreams to do so?

The way her heart clattered whenever he was near, the way she'd started forgetting her duties to daydream about the man...

How could she trade one dream for another?

She shook her head tightly. “I don't know, Emily. I have to—I have to go.”

And she ran out of her friend's house, leaving in a worse state than when she'd arrived.

* * *

By midday on Wednesday, Hattie's nerves sizzled with uneasy energy. She'd dropped several things, including an expensive vial of medication. The vision in her left eye was blurred. She'd thought Maxwell had caught her blinking repeatedly earlier that morning, trying to clear her vision, but the waiting room had been full and he'd had to help a different patient and only given her a concerned glance.

She guessed she was on the verge of an episode of nerves. One she could ill afford right now. She needed to talk to her parents about her medical-school plans, but if she was stuck in her wheeled chair, she could see her mother using her health as an excuse not to allow Hattie to go. And her papa would likely bow to Mama's wishes.

Could Hattie still leave without their approval? Did she dare?

And she'd found no resolution to her conflicted feelings about Maxwell.

She liked him so much that it frightened her. But she didn't know if there was room in her life for a man, even a man like Maxwell, someone willing to let her chase her dreams. She was half afraid that she'd fall so far in love with him that she'd be
willing
to give up her ambitions, and then where would she be?

She needed to focus on the here and now. Not on a romance. If she was truly on the verge of an episode, she needed to alert her father so he and Maxwell could make plans for the next few days.

And Friday evening, when Maxwell was coming to supper, loomed. It wasn't fair to lead him on if she couldn't commit to a relationship. Somehow, she had to decide before then what she should do.

* * *

Friday evening, Maxwell stood on Hattie's porch, hat in hand, trying to work up the courage to knock on the front door.

He'd been worried when she hadn't been in the clinic at her usual hour Thursday morning. Her pa had said she hadn't been feeling well. Maxwell guessed it was her nerves acting up. She'd been moving slowly and very deliberately in the clinic on Wednesday. Had she known something was about to happen with her condition? Why hadn't she mentioned it to him? He would've helped with extra chores around the clinic if needed.

He'd gone to try to see her late Thursday afternoon, after the clinic had closed, only to be turned away by her ma, who had said only that Hattie was resting. Hattie was the one who'd told him about her condition in the first place, but now it felt as though she was hiding from him.

Or maybe it was all in his head, because he was so nervous about seeing her tonight. He'd gotten the guts to stop by Sam and Emily's earlier in the week. His best friend had clapped him on the shoulder when he'd admitted he had strong feelings for Hattie and didn't know quite how to go about expressing them. Sam had advised him to just tell her everything.

Maxwell didn't know if he had the guts to do that yet. But Hattie was so special...he had to try.

Unwilling to delay any longer, he rapped on the door. Then he wiped his sweating palm on his trousers.

Hattie's ma answered with a smile and invited him in.

“How's Hattie?” he asked, stepping into the front hall. “I didn't know if I should still come tonight....”

After leaving the clinic, he'd changed into his white Sunday shirt and a tie that Sam had pressed on him, but that now felt as though it was choking him.

Mrs. Powell bustled back toward the kitchen. “See for yourself. She's in the parlor.”

But she wasn't. The room was empty, and a sinking feeling swamped his chest. He'd been so anxious to see her, he hadn't thought about much else. Didn't Hattie want to see him? Was it because of her condition or something else?

He turned on the heel of his boot to head back to the kitchen and find her mother but paused when he saw a shadow move from another hallway, the same one that led to the back porch.