Love Inspired Historical December 2013 Bundle: Mail-Order Mistletoe Brides\The Wife Campaign\A Hero for Christmas\Return of the Cowboy Doctor (86 page)

Chapter Sixteen

T
wo days later, Maxwell worked a filly under the hot summer sun until she was flecked with foam and he was sweating through his chambray shirt.

His efforts physically exhausted him, but he couldn't get his whirling brain to stop.

Something wasn't right in what Hattie had told him on Monday. Oh, he understood the words, but
she'd kissed him back.
Passionately. Without reserve.

Hattie was a good girl, would never lead someone on if she didn't have real feelings for them.

She cared about him. He was sure of it. He'd seen something on her face when she'd pulled away from his kiss—a pain that matched his. He'd just been too caught up in his own feelings to register it right away. But after two days of replaying the whole interaction in his mind, he was almost sure of what he'd seen.

So why did she push him away?

He'd thought with everything they'd shared that he'd made himself clear. He wouldn't stand in the way of her dreams. Matter of fact, they shared the same dreams. But what if she didn't believe him?

How could he prove it to her?

Should he even try? He'd tried expressing his feelings, only to be rejected twice.

And facing Hattie's rejection was twenty—no, a hundred times worse than when Elizabeth had walked away from him in Denver. He was coming to see that he hadn't really been in love with her. Those feelings had been nothing compared to what he felt for Hattie.

And he knew Hattie was someone worth fighting for.

But he wasn't sure what to do, how to go about it.

He reined in the filly close to Oscar's barn, intending to give her a good rubdown while he kept thinking things through, working out a plan. But he was barely off the horse when several of his brothers marched around the corner of the barn and closed ranks around him.

“There he is!”

“Grab him—don't let him get away!”

The filly, one of the last to be trained, was nervous with the flurry of motion and sound, and balked, pulled back on her reins.

“Watch the horse,” Maxwell told them, irritated that they'd interrupted him. He wanted to finish his task and keep working on the Hattie problem.

Two large hands—two different hands—clapped down on his shoulders and he was relieved of the horse's reins.

“I've got her,” Seb called out confidently. “But don't be making any big plans until I get her cleaned up and put away.”

That was when he realized the group was larger than he'd first thought. It included all six of his adopted brothers, along with Sam. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked.

“What's going on?” he asked, suspicious now.

“Whew—he's ripe today,” someone commented as Maxwell was unceremoniously hauled backward, nearly off his feet.

“Hey!” He caught sight of Edgar, two years younger but with an inch on him, as one of the two holding his arms.

“A man'll work himself to death trying to forget a woman” came Oscar's voice, also from behind him.

“What is this?” Maxwell repeated, just before he was shoved forward and a bucket of cold water from the creek doused him.

He spluttered and spit, trying to come to his feet, but hands held him down to his knees.

“That's a little better on the smell,” someone said.

They shoved him to his rear on the ground, legs sprawled out in front of him. Anger flashed through him.

“Don't move,” Sam said.

Maxwell glared up at his friend. He'd stay where he was—for now. See what was what first. His brothers stood in a semicircle around him, except for Seb, whom he could hear rustling around and talking to himself in the barn.

“This is an intervention.” Oscar squatted in front of Maxwell.

“Yeah, we're tired of you moping around here,” put in Davy. “It's depressing watching you carry that long face around all day.”

“We're determined to figure a way to get you back with Hattie,” said Sam.

“Or someone else—” threw in Edgar.

Maxwell looked up at his next youngest brother, standing off to the side with the toe of his boot in the dirt. “You're in on this, too?”

“She's not all bad, I guess,” Edgar grumbled under his breath.

“We know you're in love with her,” said Ricky, ignoring Edgar's comment as if he hadn't spoken. “And we didn't even have to read about it in that secret journal you're always hiding.”

Maxwell didn't blink. His brother might be bluffing about knowing about the poetry journal—or maybe not. But if he owned up to keeping one, they'd for sure josh him about it or even go on the hunt for it.

“Hattie's the right gal for you.” Matty, who hadn't spoken until now, hanging back in the group, took his hat off and fanned away a buzzing fly.

“Yeah, you just gave up too easy!” Davy spoke again.

“I gave up easy?” Maxwell spluttered, because he'd tried to win Hattie twice, with disastrous results both times.

“Well, you ain't got a ring on her finger, have you?” came back Davy.

“All right. Enough.” Oscar's voice rose louder than all the rest, shushing the conversation that had spread through the other brothers. “We know you love Hattie.” He ticked off one finger, as if he was counting.

Maxwell couldn't deny it and nodded slowly, wondering just how bad this was going to be.

“And we think she likes you back,” Ricky said.

Oscar ticked off another finger.

“We're relatively sure,” Sam put in. Maxwell figured he would know as well as anyone, with Emily being Hattie's close friend.

“And somehow,” Oscar continued, “communication got all mixed up between the two of you.” Another finger was ticked. “And you're separated now. But not happy.”

The whole group went silent, including Seb, who'd joined them during Oscar's last point. “And we've got to figure out a way to fix things,” the oldest White boy concluded.

It was only because Maxwell had come to the same decision that he agreed. That and because he needed help figuring out what to do. Between his oldest brother and his best friend, who were both happily married and had won over their spouses somehow, surely they could come up with some idea of how he could get Hattie back.

“All right,” he said slowly. “What did you all have in mind?”

“Depends,” Matty said with a sly grin. “What you got written in that journal of yours?”

* * *

Hattie strolled down the boardwalk on her way back to the clinic after lunch, the summer sun warm on her face.

Only a week remained until her train departed for Omaha, to take her to the scholarship interview. She'd sat with her papa several nights in a row, discussing what questions might be asked of her and practicing concise, intelligent answers.

This would be Hattie's first trip on her own. Her mama had been flitting around, planning Hattie's wardrobe—although Hattie planned to take only a small valise—and talking nonstop about Hattie's manners and deportment.

Hattie thought perhaps her mama was more excited than she was.

She was too engrossed with figuring out the cowboy she worked with; that was the problem. She'd expected tense silence from him after their second shared kiss and her rebuff of his advances. Instead, he'd seemed...almost happy the next time she'd seen him in the clinic. He'd greeted her pleasantly, made eye contact and even talked at length about seeing little Bobby in church services last Sunday.

He made no mention of the kiss, or of anything remotely personal, but he'd been friendly and pleasant for days.

She was utterly confused. By all accounts, he should've been miserable. Or, at least, as miserable as she was.

She wanted to share her thoughts about the upcoming trip with him but was afraid he would misconstrue it as an overture on her part. She wanted his insights on whether or not she was prepared enough for the interview. She wanted to hear how his mother and the new baby were doing. If his brothers were constantly nosing into his business. If Walt and Ida were adjusting to life with their new baby brother.

But it wasn't her place to ask him, not when she'd been the one to push him away.

And it was her own fault.

She loved the handsome, quiet cowboy.

And now he seemed completely over her. No signs of hurt or confusion. Just a professional demeanor.

What had she done?

Voices outside the clinic had her hurrying up the boardwalk. She and Papa had closed the doors for the lunch break. Was someone waiting to be let in?

But she froze in place two storefronts down when she caught sight of Maxwell's tall form as he conversed with two young ladies. Annabelle and Corrine.

The sight of his dark head bent to their level, the smiles on the two girls' faces, suddenly cramped her stomach. Was this why he seemed happier in general? Had he already moved on to courting someone else?

With what she'd seen of his shyness and what Penny had revealed, it seemed unlikely, but here he was conversing with two beautiful young women. Then Annabelle reached up and touched his forearm, just a small, animated sweep of her fingertips as she expressed something while she spoke, and the tightness in Hattie's stomach worsened.

Was Maxwell sweet on Annabelle? Had he seen her socially since Hattie cast him off?

Feeling sick, she hesitated, wondering if she should backtrack to the end of the boardwalk and sneak around to the back of the clinic so that the trio wouldn't see her.

Unfortunately, Corrine chose that moment to look around and notice her. The other girl waved, which drew Maxwell and Annabelle's gazes, as well.

“Hattie!” Corrine cried.

She had no choice but to approach, as much as she didn't want to. She tried to find a smile that would seem genuine, but it faltered as she got closer and she had to force it to stay in place.

She accepted a light embrace from her friend, trying not to be aware of Maxwell, tall and silent, on her other side.

“We haven't seen much of you since things have gone back to normal,” Annabelle said by way of greeting. “You've been busy with the clinic, I hear.”

Had Maxwell mentioned it? A fleeting glance at him saw him watching Annabelle—it was only polite, since she'd been the one to speak last, but it galled Hattie.

“Yes, well...my parents have agreed to let me pursue my education further and I've been busy getting ready for that.”

“Education? To do what?”

“I'm going to become a doctor.” It was the first time she'd said the words to someone outside her family or Maxwell or Emily, and the pride Hattie felt was real. But there was still something missing.

And she guessed it was the man beside her, who hadn't acknowledged her other than a nod, though he didn't seem upset to see her.

Corrine gasped a little, and Annabelle's eyes went wide. “Really?” the taller girl asked.

Hattie nodded.

“She'll be a fine doctor,” Maxwell said.

Hattie glanced at him briefly, but he was looking at Corrine now.

“She's had so much practice, no doubt she'll fly through the lessons at medical school.”

The two other girls nodded as if what Maxwell said made sense, but Hattie noted their still slightly stunned expressions. Would this be the usual reaction she would receive from here on out?

They seemed to recover quickly. Annabelle smiled first. “Well, you can't be too busy for the next poetry-club meeting,” she said, obviously excited.

“It's tomorrow evening—the first meeting back since everyone was so sick,” Corrine reminded them, as if Hattie wasn't aware of the fact.

Annabelle smiled up at the man beside them. “You're coming, aren't you, Maxwell?”

He nodded, surprising Hattie. She'd thought at the last meeting that he'd only gone because she'd suggested it as a way to get to know some of the girls in town. “I had a good time at the last meeting.”

Was it her imagination, or did his eyes flicker to her? They'd just been getting to know each other at the first poetry-club meeting, but did his words have a deeper meaning?

“So you'll be there, Hattie?” Corrine asked.

This time she
felt it
when Maxwell's eyes rested on her. He squinted a little beneath his Stetson, his intensity aimed at her for a moment that stretched long.

“I don't know,” Hattie murmured, unnerved. “It will depend on how busy things are in the clinic, if I have to help Papa clean up after the day's patients.”

If she wasn't too exhausted, if her nerves cooperated...

If she needed to avoid Maxwell, avoid seeing him flirt with other girls.

“Oh, Hattie, you must come. We have a special reading planned,” Annabelle gushed.

“We'll see.” It was all the commitment she could give. If Maxwell was there, she didn't know if she could face it. “I really should get inside, ready things for the afternoon.”

She excused herself, again surprised when Maxwell didn't offer to come in to help her but remained on the boardwalk with the other two girls.

What could he possibly be talking to them about? She stomped into the storeroom to don her usual full-length apron. She still didn't hear the door open to announce his presence.

She grabbed the broom and moved to the front room—though she'd swept it first thing this morning.

She didn't like the feelings swamping her just at this moment. The first was petty jealousy, plain and simple. She couldn't deny it.

It was what made her flick the corner of the curtain aside. Yes, he was still out there, but Corrine had gone. He conversed with Annabelle alone, their heads close together as if they spoke quietly.

Hattie almost,
almost
opened the door to brush the small amount of dust she'd swept up into their faces.

But she didn't.

Because the other feeling overtaking her was more than simple jealousy.