The doctor tilted his head as he watched her. “Are you sure you’re better, Mrs. Hayward? You had quite a shock.”
The smile faded from Molly’s mouth as she heard him say her name. He’d called her that earlier. Hayward! How could she have forgotten she was married? Had she betrayed Benjamin by marrying, even in name only? Or had she shamed Wolf Hayward with her secret life and love, who came to her only in her dreams?
She wasn’t sure from what direction guilt flew in, but it perched heavy atop her heart. She felt its weight, hollow and bitter. Somehow, she’d dishonored one man, but which?
Molly rubbed her forehead. The terror of the fire hadn’t destroyed her sanity. She was doing that simply by dreaming. “Perhaps I’d better sit down.”
Granny moved out of the way. Molly melted into the only chair in the room. The table wobbled when she rested her arm on a lace cover that had been washed and bleached so many times the material appeared feathered.
Looking around the room, Molly saw beneath the first layer of warm comfort. The place she’d seen as finely decorated aged before her eyes. The drapes were heavy with dust. The design in the rug had almost disappeared with wear. Wood, from headboard to dresser, was weathered and cracked in age.
“That’s it, ma’am.” Granny patted her hand. “You rest easy for a spell. The soul takes time, just like the body, to recover from losses like you had. I’ll have old Noah bring you up a cup of tea. You missed breakfast, but lunch will be ready in a few shakes.”
The old woman reached to touch Molly’s shoulder in comfort but pulled back. “Don’t you worry none, child.” She glanced at the doctor. “A body can face anything once the stomach is full.” She looked back at Molly. “I’d be willing to bet three meals a day of my grits and gravy will put some meat on those bones. You’ll be filling out my nightgown in no time.”
As Granny hurried off, the doctor checked Molly’s arms and removed the bandages.
Red puffy flesh, no worse than a sunburn, Molly thought. The doctor pampered her, but she wasn’t sure why.
“I need to ask you this, Mrs. Hayward. Is there any chance that you could be with child?”
Molly wanted to laugh. Surely dream lovers couldn’t accomplish that feat. “No,” she answered, wanting to be honest with Kim. “Wolf and I have never…will never…well, not yet, anyway.” She felt she had to be honest about her condition, but she didn’t want to give away the agreement of their marriage. “Wolf left within hours after our wedding.”
“I think I understand.” The doctor was a poor liar. “You rushed into a marriage, don’t rush into…” He couldn’t find the words. “…Into what you’re not ready for. I know a great many marriages that are strong with the husband and wife in separate bedrooms.”
She’d heard of them, also. Marriages where no love was involved. Marriages where children were not wanted. Marriages where one of the partners had a lover.
Blinking, she realized, that would be her.
I’m the one with a lover
.
Washburn reddened when she didn’t comment. “If you like, we can talk about how it could be between the two of you. Understanding can sometimes take the fear away from a new bride.”
She almost giggled. She’d bet all she had, which at the moment was one slightly burned gown, that the doctor had never given this talk before. “No. I understand about that. I went to the backroom classes at medical school.”
Now it was the doctor’s turn to be embarrassed. The backroom classes were those group meetings held at the bars after the lectures. Diseases and ailments never discussed in lecture halls were described over a mug of beer. Theories on how to prevent pregnancy that ran from old bayou methods to new
scientific research from Germany were discussed. Diseases that ran, rampant across the country, but were never mentioned in parlors, were talked about. A classmate of Molly’s had laughingly called what they debated over beer as the “ailments of the heart.” But as far as Molly could figure, not one round of talking had anything to do with the heart.
Washburn changed the subject. “Did you finish medical school, Mrs. Hayward?”
“Yes, but most of my intern work was in pharmacy.”
“Have you ever considered practicing medicine?”
Molly shook her head. She’d seen enough of the “practice” during the war. “I enjoy helping people with my mixtures.” She leaned back in the chair. “I’d just ordered a wagonload of supplies the morning before the fire. Now I’ll have no place to put them.”
Washburn closed his bag. “If you’d consider it, I think the school could loan you a room to work in, in exchange for a reduced fee on what we need.”
Molly grinned. Everything was going to work out. “I’ll consider it and thanks for the offer.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “Well, I guess if you have no questions, I’ll be leaving. I’ll check on you again this afternoon.”
“Thank you. But it won’t be necessary for you to return.” Molly saw no point in his making another call. Yesterday she’d had a shock. She’d been hurt and frightened. Her lungs were full of smoke, her spirit near broken. But today she felt her strength returning. She knew how to treat the burns and bruises. She could take care of herself. “I know you’re busy. I’ll be fine.”
Nodding his agreement, Washburn added, “I’ll speak to your husband.”
“That won’t be necessary either, I assure you.” Molly wanted to fire more angry words back at Washburn, but knew he was only saying what most doctors said. Once a woman married, her medical care, or sometimes the lack of it, was dependent on her husband’s decisions. In most states, a doctor couldn’t even treat a woman without her husband’s consent.
A moment ago Washburn had treated her like a colleague and now she was back to being a woman.
A tapping on the door saved the doctor from having to reply. Callie Ann rushed in. She ran to Molly but halted just out of reach.
“I was going to hug you,” she said and pouted, “but I don’t want to hurt you.”
Molly laughed. “A hug could never hurt.” She opened her arms to the child. Over Callie Ann’s head, Molly watched the doctor slip from the room.
After hugging her, Callie Ann pushed back Molly’s hair and kissed her on both cheeks. “I missed you. Granny Gravy said you had to sleep. I didn’t have anyone to play with but Uncle Orson.”
“I’m sorry.” Molly took the child’s face in her hands and kissed her cheeks in return. “Promise to stay with me a while today.”
Callie Ann giggled. “We can’t go anywhere. We don’t have any clothes. But we got boxes and boxes downstairs that Mr. Wolf had delivered.”
“You’re right.” Molly looked down at her gown, as if she’d just noticed it. “We’ll have to stay here.” She hoped she could find something to wear before Wolf returned. She didn’t want to face him in only a nightgown.
Foolish, she thought. Why shouldn’t her husband see her in a nightgown? Most of the town had last night. They’d surrounded her in a mob once the fire was under control, asking questions all at once. Charlie Filmore had shielded her as best he could until the rangers showed up.
Callie Ann suddenly danced around the room while Noah brought in a tray of tea with cookies on it that could only have come from Wolf’s favorite cafe. As they ate, more boxes arrived—dresses for them both to try on, shoes, underthings, even a doll for Callie Ann and a new leather-bound journal for her.
All from Wolf. His thoughtfulness overwhelmed her.
Molly was amazed at how closely Wolf guessed her size, but decided it had been blind luck. He obviously hadn’t really looked at her, or he’d have known she only wore black. She’d started when her father died and never stopped when the year of mourning ended. The white blouses were fine, but the skirts of wine red and hunter green were colors she’d never choose.
But she had to wear something. She couldn’t very well go shopping in the nightgown she now wore. So she picked three of the simplest outfits along with underthings.
Callie Ann, on the other hand, liked everything she tried on, as if she were playing dress-up. She even tried Molly’s rejected clothes and asked if she could have a shawl with golden fringe. Molly knew Wolf was probably spending most of his savings on the clothes. She should keep only what were necessities, yet she couldn’t tell the child no.
As soon as she could, she’d get to the bank and wire Philadelphia for money to repay Wolf. She knew what he had in savings and guessed he’d spent very little on himself over the years. She couldn’t allow him to drain his account for her.
Molly lifted Wolf’s tin box, planning to check his original balance and replace it. But the box was locked and the key had been left in her kitchen. She thought of trying to break the lock, but decided she could guess the amount close enough.
With her hand bandaged, it was impossible to do more than comb through her hair. Molly worked to make herself look presentable. By noon she and Callie Ann were ready to go downstairs. Carefully, Molly took each step.
When she reached the long dining room that could easily seat a dozen, the table was set for only three. Fresh flowers fanned from a bowl in the middle, amid blue and white china.
Granny set a pot of dumplings on the table and looked up. “My, my, don’t you look fine. As grand a lady as I’ve ever served.”
Callie Ann twirled. “I have new clothes, too.”
Granny made a fuss over the child, then tied a huge napkin around her so she wouldn’t spill anything on her new dress.
Molly took her seat. “I thought you had other guests staying here.”
Granny filled the plates without bothering to ask what or how much anyone wanted. “I do, but I ran them all off. I thought we needed to spend some time talking. I’ve had this place for years, and you are the first lady I’ve ever had stay here.”
Accepting her plate, Molly watched the old woman closely. She could feel something wrong. No one had been up to her room to check on her. The house was quiet. Something
was
wrong.
“I talked with Wolf this morning when he came down a little after dawn,” Granny mumbled as she took a bite of a biscuit-size dumpling.
“Wolf was here last night?”
Granny nodded. “He came in just before dark and didn’t leave until after sunrise. Said he sat by your bed most of the night. Didn’t you even wake up enough to see him?”
“No.” Molly felt her cheeks redden. She couldn’t believe he’d watched her while she’d dreamed. “Where is he now?”
“When he brought the last of them boxes in this morning, there were men waiting to talk to him. He took off like lightning. Ranger problem, I imagine.”
Molly tasted the bland food as Granny continued.
“I haven’t had a chance to tell you my Luther was a ranger back in the early forties when Texas was a country all to itself. He weren’t more than a kid when he rode with Sam Houston at San Jacinto.”
Granny looked insulted when Molly didn’t comment. “It was the great battle of Texas’s rebellion against Mexico. Houston and his men caught old Santa Anna napping. A few hundred men took an army of thousands. Luther said they rode in firing like wild men and yelling, ‘Remember the Alamo!’ and ‘Remember Goliad!’ Santa Anna’s men didn’t have time to form a line, much less hold it. They ran like chickens at the sound of thunder.”
Molly nodded as if she remembered.
Managing to filter in bites, Granny kept talking. “My Luther was a big fella, just like Wolf, and took to rangering. All full of gruff and spit, he was. If he ran out of bullets, he’d just frighten most troublemakers to death by yelling.”
Granny snorted. “Lord, how I miss that man! When you’re hugged by a bear of a man like that, you know you’ve been held,” Granny mumbled around another bite. “But I guess you understand that, don’t you, hon?”
In truth, she did know that. The few times Wolf had pulled her into his arms, she knew she’d been hugged. There was something warm and safe about the way he put his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. He might not be polished and handsome like Benjamin, but Wolf Hayward had a way about him that made her feel good about herself. He treated her like she was fine china, something to treasure.
“My Luther was killed down on the border one winter,” Granny continued. “He was chasing outlaws who raided ranches then ran back across the Rio Grande to hide. Luther was alone when he met up with them. There was a horrible gunfight. The men who found him said the ground was thick with spent shells. Luther took four bullets before he quit firing. They said he killed twelve of them.” She lifted the first of her chins in pride. “Imagine that! It took more’n twelve men to bring my man down.”
Suddenly, Molly didn’t want to hear Granny’s story. She didn’t want to think about Wolf fighting to the death in a gun battle. She couldn’t imagine ever bragging about such a thing in her widow days.
Finishing her meal, Callie Ann asked if she could go out to the barn with Noah. He’d promised to let her feed a carrot to the goat he kept for milk.
When the child disappeared around the corner, Granny straightened, as if getting down to business. “Some men came in this morning and told me something you need to know.”
Molly waited for what she knew was coming. Maybe they’d found who set the fire.
“That night”—Granny swallowed a dumpling without bothering to chew—“amid all the excitement over the fire at your place, two men escaped from jail.”
Without speaking, Molly watched Granny finish off another bite.
“The Digger boys. Meanest men you’d ever want to meet. They had help by someone on the outside.”
Panic made Molly’s blood rush. “Do they know about Callie Ann? Will they come after her because she’s kin?”
“I don’t think so. Far as I know, the rangers saw no reason to tell them about her. Besides, they wouldn’t care nothing about a kid.”
Molly hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.
“Wolf rode out to try and catch them.” Granny wiped her chin. “He said to tell you he’d be back as soon as he could. He’s got to try and get to the Diggers before they kill. With them two it’s not a question of if, but
when
.”
Reaching across the table, Granny took Molly’s hand. “I told him you can stay with me. With most of the rangers rooming here when they’re in town, this is as safe a place as you’ll find.” She patted her apron pocket. “And I got my derringer, just in case.”