Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) (11 page)

Galloping up to the open gate, her jaw dropped. The doctor ran around the courtyard at full speed, pushing her brother’s wheelchair, the little fluffy dog yipping at his heels. Yelling at the top of his lungs, Dr. Fairbanks made funny rumbling sounds. Had he gone mad?

She opened her mouth to protest but nothing came out. Instead, her thoughts whirled back in time to the day she stood watching in horror as her baby brother’s carriage rolled down a hill. She was only eight at the time, but she remembered that day as if it were only yesterday.

Shaking the memory away, she yelled for the doctor to stop, but all the whooping, barking, laughing, and rattling of the wheelchair drowned out her voice.

She rode her horse into the courtyard. “Stop!” she shouted. “Do you hear me? Stop!”

Caleb halted the wheelchair and Donny’s laughter faded away. All three males including the dog stared up at her.

She slid out of her saddle and wrapped the reins around the
hitching post. Turning to face the doctor, she planted her hands at her waist. “What is the matter with you? He . . . he could have fallen.” Even with the best of conditions the chair wasn’t all that stable and had tipped over several times in the past.

Dr. Fairbanks frowned. “We were just having fun.”

She glared up at him. He was even taller than she remembered and she was forced to lean her head back to meet his gaze. His poor judgment only confirmed her earlier opinion of his ability as a doctor. “At the risk of further injury?”

The doctor stepped away from the wheelchair. “It’s true that your brother’s well-being is endangered, but it’s not from having fun.”

“The only danger to my brother is you.” If starting a stampede wasn’t bad enough, now this. Donny let out a long, hacking cough. Worried, she hurried to his side. “Are you all right?”

His face scarlet, veins standing out on his neck, he didn’t answer.

“Come on, I’ll take you to your room.” Grabbing the push handle, she wheeled him to the steps and stopped. Three steps. Only three steps led to the verandah, but they looked as formidable as a prison wall. Nothing made mountains out of molehills faster than a wheelchair.

Without a word, Dr. Fairbanks laid his hand on hers. “Let me.”

His touch sent warm currents up her arm. Cheeks flaring, she let go of the wheelchair and stepped aside. With seemingly little effort, he turned the chair around, tilted it, and pulled it up the steps on its tiny back wheel with an ease Molly could only envy.

She followed behind. Reaching for the pitcher on the table, she poured a glass of water and handed it to her brother. He took a sip and his coughed improved, but his chest rose and fell at an alarming rate.

“Thank you,” she said to the doctor, her voice cool. “I can manage from here.”

Dr. Fairbanks touched her arm, drawing her gaze to his. “I want to help. Your brother’s condition will continue to deteriorate without medical intervention.”

Overly aware of his touch, she moved away. “You know nothing about my brother’s condition.” Or history.

It had been a tough morning and she had no desire to argue. Everything she did that morning, from chasing calves to repairing fences, had met with criticism. She wasn’t about to stand still while Dr. Caleb Fairbanks found fault with the way she cared for her brother.

“I know enough,” he said. “I know that your brother has a partial lumbar spinal injury.”

“If you know that much, then you must know his prognosis.”

“Yes, but I can still help him if you’ll let me.”

She inhaled. She wanted to believe him, to believe that what he said was true. But there had been too many medical disappointments in the past. Too many broken promises. Too many times she’d seen her brother’s hopes dashed, had her own spirit crushed. Right now it was all she could do to get through each day.

“I appreciate your concern but—”

The doctor pressed on. “We know a lot more today about such injuries, much more than we knew even a few years ago. I’ve witnessed some amazing results following manual therapy and—”

“The last doctor who suggested manual therapy wanted to whip his legs with a willow stick.” The memory alone made her shudder.

“I would never hurt your brother.”

Something in his voice—perhaps sincerity—made her study him. He really did have a kind face, a pleasant, open expression. She couldn’t imagine him hurting anyone.

“Can you make him walk again?” she asked. “Can you do that?”

“No. I can’t do that.”

It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but at least he spoke the truth. Perhaps she had misjudged him. He was nothing like the charlatans in Dobson Creek who promised cures.

“Thank you for your honesty,” she said and she meant it. “But my brother has been through a lot these past few weeks. I don’t know if you heard about the Dobson Creek fire.” Donny still suffered nightmares from the fire. They both did. He didn’t need the added stress of working with a doctor. Especially when there was no reason to believe that any sort of therapy would help.

“I heard about it,” the doctor said. “About your brother—”

“My mind’s made up.” Was it his gentle tone or compassionate expression that made her perilously close to breaking down? “We have nothing more to discuss.”

Not wanting to make a fool of herself, she gave the wheelchair an abrupt turn and pushed her brother into the house. “Good day, Doctor.”

Chapter 10

C
ome on, boy.” Caleb lifted Magic out of the car and set him on the ground and together they walked into the blacksmith shop. They were greeted by a growling wolf-dog
baring his teeth. Magic didn’t know enough to be intimidated or
even step back. Instead he perked his ears and gave a single bark in greeting.

The owner, a tall clean-shaven man dressed in a leather apron, greeted Caleb with a nod of his head. “That’s enough, Homer.” The wolf-dog stopped growling, but his golden-eyed gaze remained on the small pooch.

“I’m Dr. Fairbanks,” Caleb said. “I’m staying with your aunt and uncle.”

The smithy set his hammer on his workbench, wiped his hands on a rag, and walked toward Caleb with an extended arm. “Been meaning to stop by and welcome you. Aunt Bessie told me she had taken in a boarder. Call me Luke. That there is Homer,” he said, indicating the dog sniffing out Magic. The tails of both dogs wagged like two trainmen signaling one another.

Caleb shook Luke’s hand before petting the larger dog. “Call me Caleb. That there is Magic.”

“Pleased to know you.” Luke glanced at the ball of fluff that was weaving in and out of Homer’s legs. “How do you like livin’ with my aunt and uncle?”

“Couldn’t be happier. Your aunt is a terrific cook.”

Luke grinned. “That she is. She also tends to interfere in everybody’s business, and that means she’s gonna meddle aplenty in yours.”

“I’m afraid she’ll be sorely disappointed. I don’t have any business worth meddling into.”

“Trust me, my aunt will find business that you didn’t even know you had. You’re safe for a while ’cause I’m getting married in a couple of weeks. Aunt Bessie’s up to her brow in wedding preparations. Never knew taking a wife required so much fuss.”

“Congratulations,” Caleb said. “Married men seem to have less medical complaints than bachelors—along with less money.”

Luke grinned. “I guess you gotta take the good with the bad. What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been trying to get over here for days but my patients keep me hopping. Do you know anything about horseless carriages?”

Luke leaned against his workbench, arms folded. “Can’t say that I do. Yours is the first one I’ve ever seen. You think they’ll ever replace horses?”

“Money alone says they will. It’s cheaper to run an automobile than to feed a horse, and parts can be replaced. A horseless buggy can outlast several horses, and if it breaks down you don’t have to shoot it.”

This brought a hearty laugh from the smithy. Pleased at finding an appreciative audience, Caleb continued, “That’s not all. It’s got a two-horse power engine and can go fifteen miles an hour providing the road is smooth and I’m going downhill.”

Luke gave a low whistle. “I reckon that can make a big difference between life and death in a medical emergency.”

Caleb nodded. “It sure can. The problem is, it tends to backfire and I don’t know how to stop it. People hearing it think it’s gunfire. I’ve already been shot at twice since arriving in town.” A vision of a certain green-eyed beauty came to mind, which almost made him lose his train of thought. “The marshal just threatened to put me in jail for disturbing the peace. Would you look at it and tell me what you think?”

“I’ll look, but like I said, I don’t know nothin’ about ’em.” Luke followed Caleb outside.

In the short time that Caleb had been in the shop, someone had attached a big satin bow to the rear. He couldn’t help but laugh. The entire town was practically covered in them.

“I’m afraid if I stand still for too long, your aunt will attach a bow to me,” Caleb joked.

“There’s no stopping Aunt Bessie,” Luke said with obvious fondness. He walked around Bertha, checking her out from top to bottom. “That’s a mighty good-looking piece of equipment, even without the bow. Why did you choose a gasoline engine over steam?”

“It’s more economical to run,” Caleb explained. “And there’s less chance of fire. You can also start it quicker.” It would take almost a half hour to heat water sufficiently to start a steam engine. A doctor on call couldn’t afford to waste that amount of time.

“So when does it backfire?” Luke asked.

“Sometimes when I’m cranking it up. Other times it backfires for no good reason. Mostly when I stop.”

Luke stepped back. “Crank her up and let’s see what we have.”

Caleb slid the L-shaped pipe into the hole in front and turned it with all five fingers on one side of the handle for safety. The sparking
device ignited with a bang, throwing the crank backward. Caleb was able to pull his hand back in time—but barely.

Hands on his waist, Luke shook his head. “Whoo-eee. That
fly
wheel sure does live up to its name.” He lifted his voice to be heard over the loud rumbling sound.

Caleb rubbed his wrist. “It’s a wonder I haven’t lost an arm.”

Bertha backfired and Luke jumped. Homer lowered his tail and darted through the open door of his owner’s establishment. A woman coming out of Green’s merchandise store dropped her basket of groceries and fled inside.

Magic pawed Caleb’s trouser leg, ready for a ride, and Caleb lifted him into the back of the car.

Luke seemed oblivious to anything but the problem at hand. Dropping to his knees, he peered into the crankshaft opening. He struck Caleb as a man who did everything with careful consideration.

Luke waved his hand, indicating he was finished, and Caleb turned off the engine. “So what do you think?”

“Sounds like too much fuel’s getting into the sparking device.” Elbow resting on his arm, Luke stroked his chin. “If we can figure out how to control the fuel, it should solve the problem.”

Caleb nodded. “I’d sure appreciate anything you can do.”

“I can also make a brace to keep the crank from kicking back. Probably won’t keep you from gettin’ shot, but it’ll save you from a broken arm or two.”

“I guess that’s better than nothing,” Caleb said. “Can you do anything about those bullet holes?”

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got some orders ahead of you that I have to finish today. I can work on it tomorrow. Meanwhile, I’ll figure out how to make a brace to keep the flywheel stable.”

Caleb thanked him and bent in front of Bertha. A woman gasped
and he looked up to see an audience staring at him. “It’s perfectly safe,” he assured the crowd. “Nothing to be afraid of. Now stand back.” He waved his arm. “Stand waaay back.”

Cactus Patch had a problem, which meant that Bessie Adams had a problem. Now that the nice doctor was staying at her house, she actually had
two
problems. For sure as the sky was blue the dear man needed a wife, but with the long hours he worked, he’d never find one on his own.

It was up to Bessie to find him the right woman, and that she had every intention of doing,
after
her nephew’s wedding. First things first.