Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) (19 page)

“When we found fifty steers killed by lightning, we decided to spread the rumor that they died from disease. We hoped it would stop the other ranchers from trespassing.”

“Did your plan work?” he asked.

“It has so far. We haven’t found a cut fence in a week.” She angled her head as she looked up at him. “How did you hear about it?”

“From a long line of people waiting in front of my office demanding a vaccination against gold fever.”

Her eyes sparkled like an emerald sea. “Wait till Miss Walker hears about that.” She glanced toward the ranch house. “How is Donny doing?”

“He’s making progress.” He inhaled. There he went again, but he couldn’t seem to help it. If only he could change the way her brother regarded himself. Instead of focusing on what he could do or was capable of doing, Donny saw only his disabilities.

Instead of the smile he hoped for, a flash of impatience flitted across her face.

“You say that every time,” she said.

“Have you noticed no improvement?”

She thought for a moment. “Not really. Except maybe his breathing. He’s not wheezing as much.”

“Ah, you see? Progress. Once we complete therapy, his breathing will improve even more. I’m convinced of it.”

“Are you saying that strengthening his muscles will improve his asthma?” she asked.

On more familiar ground, he elaborated. “We don’t know what causes asthma but we have a pretty good idea what triggers it. I’ve noticed in some of my patients that anxiety or worry or even stress can cause breathing difficulties.”

“Is that why coming to Arizona seemed to affect his breathing?”

“Possibly. A new environment uncertainty about the future . . . any of those things can cause his bronchial tubes to tense.”

She bit her lower lip. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or impatient. It’s just that . . . others have promised miracles and nothing worked.”

Her words stabbed at his conscience. Was that what he was doing? Promising something he could not deliver? “I’m not in the business of miracles. I leave such wonders to God. But I am a big believer in the human spirit. Your brother’s a fine lad with a good mind. Don’t underestimate him.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?”

He nodded toward the horse stall. “What do you see when you look at that horse?”

“What do I see? I see a fine animal with a strong spirit. I see a great deal of potential. But what has this got to do with my brother?”

“Do you know what I see when I look at that horse? I see an animal with spindly legs and complicated intestines that should have been extinct thousands of years ago.”

Her mouth dropped open. “That’s . . . ridiculous.”

“Not any more ridiculous than looking at Donny and seeing only his imperfect legs.”

“You’re wrong,” she snapped. “That’s not all I see.”

He reached for her hands. “Molly, look at me. People act how they’re expected to act.”

She pulled away. “I don’t expect him to act helpless!”

“He’s not helpless, Molly. He’s scared.”

“Scared?” She grew still. “Of what?”

“Of losing you.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Is it?” He studied her. He’d committed to helping Donny, but perhaps Molly had a greater need. Caring for Donny under the best of circumstances would be difficult enough for anyone, but she had a full-time job. On a ranch, no less. Though she tried her best to hide her worry and fatigue, he could see what it was doing to her. Such a heavy burden would tax the hardiest of men.

“What would happen if you lived a normal life?” He trod on dangerous ground and already he felt her resistance. Whenever he got too personal, she either pulled away or put a wall between them. Even so, someone had to step in before she destroyed herself.

And then he took the biggest chance of all. “If you were to, say . . . marry?”

If the question surprised her, she gave no indication. “That’s not going to happen,” she said without hesitation, as if she had thought long and hard on the subject.

He stared at her, incredulous. “How can you be so certain?”
A beautiful woman like you?

“Marriage means children and I couldn’t handle another child.”

He frowned. “Donny’s not a child.”

“You know what I mean. Even my mother—” She looked away, but not before he saw the pain in her eyes, the tremor of her lips, the clenching of her fists.

A protective surge rushed through him. He wanted to reach out to her. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her and make the pain go away. “What about your mother?” he asked gently.

It took her a moment to lift her gaze to his, the pain no longer visible. But he had seen and he knew.

She shook her head. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I just meant that Donny needs a lot of care.”

Sometimes unspoken words were the loudest, and he heard Molly’s loud and clear. Her mother was so overwhelmed with caring for her son she neglected her daughter.

“And you plan to throw your life away because of him?” As a doctor he tried never to sound critical or disapproving, but today professional discipline failed him and both had crept into his voice.

Her eyes widened and she took a step back. “I’m not throwing my life away. This is the first real home Donny and I ever had.” At the sound of galloping hooves outside, Molly lowered her voice. “If I can secure Donny’s future at this ranch, he’ll never have to go into one of those horrid asylums.”

Miss Walker marched into the barn in full riding gear, spurs jangling. “There you are, Doctor. Did Miss Hatfield tell you that we think we know how Baxter got infected?”

Caleb pulled his gaze away from Molly and turned to the ranch owner. “Yes, she did.”

“How much longer must I keep him quarantined?”

“I think we can safely say there’s no danger of him infecting your other horses.” The diagnosis had been proven correct and abscesses had formed as predicted. They popped on their own and almost immediately the horse showed improvement. For safety’s sake, he’d insisted they keep Baxter isolated for a couple of weeks.

“I’ll take one last look at him if you like,” he said.

“Come along, then.” Miss Walker strode toward Baxter’s stall with long hurried strides, but Caleb was hesitant to follow.

He lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Molly, I know you care for your brother but—”

“You better not keep Miss Walker waiting.” She let herself back into the stall and closed the gate between them. She stared at him for a moment before turning away.

There was so much more he wanted to say to her if only she would let him. “Molly . . .”

Miss Walker called to him. “Well? Are you coming?”

Long after Caleb left and the sound of his auto had faded away, Molly stood inside the stall thinking about what he said. As if sensing a change in her, the paint stared at her with wary regard and refused to let her get too close.

Molly tried to sing but it was no use. Her heart wasn’t in it.

“What would happen if you lived a normal life? If you were, say . . . to marry?”

Stop it!
she screamed silently, but it was no use. Caleb’s words kept bouncing around in her head, seeming to resonate from the very barn walls until she feared she was losing her mind.

She clenched her fists. How dare him! How dare Caleb make her want things she had no business wanting. This might not be a
normal
life but it was
her
life—and it was the only one she deserved.

Chapter 18

M
olly couldn’t stop coughing. The cough that started during the Dobson Creek fire had grown progressively worse. At first she only coughed at night, but the hot,
dry monsoon winds that tore across the desert set her to coughing
for most of the day. A dark haze of sand and dust filled the air and she made Donny sit inside all day—something he hated to do.

Her throat was sore and her chest hurt and she worried about Donny catching her cough.

It wasn’t the initial illness she worried about as much as the asthma attack that inevitably followed even the slightest infection.

The cough was annoying for another reason. If the clanking windmill and banging barn door didn’t distract the horses enough, Molly’s hacking spells put them on edge.

Brodie didn’t say anything about her cough, but he made no effort to hide his displeasure at her being late. He disapproved of the number of times she sneaked away to care for her brother and he made no bones about it. Today was no different.

“Now that you’re back maybe we can git some work done.”

“I’m sorry I’m late but Donny—”

“The only thing I’m interested in is these here horses,” he
retorted. He tugged on his rawhide hat, kicked a small rock with his scuffed boot, and ambled away.

She heaved a sigh and followed him into the corral. How could a man with infinite patience for horses have so little tolerance for people?

Whirlwinds of sand raced by and a new horse Brodie called Blackie kicked up his hind legs and bolted around the corral in a frenzy. It was all Brodie could do to contain him. Keeping one eye on the battle between horse and man, Molly worked with a more placid, though head-shy, mare named Starburst.

It was a day for distractions. When the wind finally died down and the horses grew calm, Caleb arrived to work with Donny. His motor buggy backfired, sending the horses into another panic. Orbit didn’t help matters. Hearing Caleb’s auto, Orbit hoofed the fence and whinnied loudly until his friend Magic joined him. Nuzzling each other, the dog and horse then took off running side by side.

Molly laughed at the two animal friends, bringing a sharp glance from Brodie.

Sighing, she gently slid a bridle over Starburst’s face and waited for the mare to lower her head before slipping the bit in her mouth and buckling the straps. Starburst took the bit well for the first time, but when Molly coughed, the startled mare took off running with her nose up in the air.

“She’ll learn that it’s more comfortable with her nose down,” Brodie called.

Molly had learned a lot about horses in her short time on the ranch. Each teaching method had to be adjusted according to the personality of the horse. Lightning was a runner, Blaze a kicker, and Starburst easily spooked. The new pinto was docile for the most part
but was given to sudden outbursts of energy when least expected. Then there was Blackie who was as unpredictable as the weather.

Her favorite horse, though, was Orbit. Each morning she stood by the fence and sang to him and he never failed to come galloping up to her. His antics made her smile, but it was his unfettered joy for life that she liked best.

The mare soon grew tired and stopped running. Molly hacked through another coughing spell and the skittish horse took off again.

“You gotta do something about that frog,” Brodie grumbled.

“I’m trying,” she said. Rosita had plied her with honey and some sort of cactus juice that tasted sour but felt soothing to her throat.

“Better let the doc have a look.” He tossed a nod in the direction of the ranch house just as Caleb emerged from the courtyard. Molly was surprised to see him leave so soon. His session with Donny had lasted for a mere twenty minutes. Her brother had been in a bad mood at lunchtime, which was why she was late. Was he still being difficult?

“I don’t need a doctor.” She’d purposely avoided Caleb since their meeting in the barn. His nearness distracted and confused her and she needed her full wits to get through each day.

“Let him decide.” Before she could protest, Brodie waved until he got Caleb’s attention.

“I told you I don’t need—” But it was too late. Caleb tossed something into his auto and jogged over to where they stood.

He greeted them both and glanced at the horses. “Is there a problem?”

“Nope,” Brodie said. “At least not with the horses. But Molly here is having some throat trouble.”

“Oh?” Caleb’s glance sharpened as he studied her.

Molly glared at Brodie who shrugged and walked away. She cleared her voice. “It’s just a little cough.”

“It doesn’t hurt to take a look.” Caleb motioned toward the ranch house. “We better go inside.”

She started to argue but changed her mind. With a shrug she marched to the house, pulling off her gloves as she walked. Moments later she settled upon a leather chair in the large room. Just being out of the dust-filled air made it easier to breathe and already she felt better.