Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) (27 page)

“When I was in medical school I met many war veterans in wheelchairs from both the North and South. Most had spent their lives in institutions or soldiers’ homes. I remember one man in particular. His name was Ben Watson. He was a brilliant man, a mathematician, forced to spend a lifetime in a crowded soldiers’ home, his mind wasted. By the time I met Mr. Watson it was too late to do anything for him, but it’s not too late for Donny.”

She sucked in her breath, wishing she could believe what he said was true.

“I better get back to town,” he said.

She nodded, though she hated to see him go.

He whistled and Magic came running. He reached for the dog, lifting him over the fence and onto the ground. By the time she and Caleb reached the car, Magic was already in the front seat. The dog’s ability to climb into the high-framed vehicle by himself never failed to amaze her.

Molly stepped back while Caleb cranked. The car roared to life, shaking like dice in a gambler’s hand.

He heaved himself into the driver’s seat. “Molly, don’t worry,” he
said, lifting his voice to be heard. “A man walks in many ways. Your brother hasn’t yet found his way of walking but he will.”

Molly watched him drive away.
Please, God, let him be right. Please help my brother find his way.

Eleanor stood by the fence watching Molly teach a horse to back. It wasn’t something horses liked to do, but this one followed Molly’s commands without hesitation.

“Back,” Molly called, popping the horse on the chest with a rope. She backed the horse through a muddy puddle, all the way to the fence.

Brodie stood next to Eleanor. “She’s good. She started out bad but caught on real quick. Has a real knack with the horses, she does.”

Eleanor was well aware of the girl’s natural abilities, but running a ranch required more than simply having a way with horses. “I need someone who can devote herself fully to the ranch. She can’t do that and care for her brother.”

“I worry about that too. But she’s determined. I’ll give her that much.”

Determination was good but it only went so far. If she hadn’t felt so sorry for the girl and her brother, Eleanor would have sent them packing long ago.

She grimaced at the thought. It wasn’t like her to feel sorry for anyone—not where the ranch was concerned. Could this new softer side be yet another symptom of advancing age?

“Determination never ran a ranch,” she said, her voice curt. Where the ranch was concerned, divided loyalties never worked. It was all or nothing.

“No, ma’am, I reckon not.”

A thriving ranch was living proof that choices made in the past— some of them painful and demanding great personal sacrifice—had been worth every drop of blood and sweat shed through the years. The ranch gave her life meaning. Without it, all would be for naught . . . her life an utter waste.

Eleanor spun around and walked away. Molly was the eighth woman to answer her advertisement for an heiress—or was it the ninth? Surely there had to be someone out there who could take over the ranch should—heaven forbid—something happen to her.

Caleb blinked and rubbed his forehead. It was late, almost midnight. Medical books were piled high on his desk. He’d spent the last several hours skimming through the thick tomes searching for information on leukemia.

Magic, curled on the floor in front of the desk, looked up from time to time as if to say,
Hey, it’s past my bedtime.
Getting no response, the dog laid his head down on crossed paws and watched Caleb with soulful eyes.

Caleb ran his finger down the page. Europeans named it
“weisses blut.”
White blood. No known cure existed for the disease.

A combination of arsenic trioxide and potassium bicarbonate, called “Fowler’s Solution,” brought red blood count back to normal, but it was only a temporary reprieve. Once treatment stopped, the white blood count soared again. Long-term use of the drug led to arsenic poisoning. In this case the cure, however temporary, really was worse than the disease.

Heart heavy, he turned off the gas lamp. Tomorrow he would
send a telegraph to his professor in Boston and ask for the latest research on the disease.

His old mentor often said that God heals but doctors get the credit. Caleb had seen his share of miracles. Every doctor honest enough to admit it had seen miraculous cures. But it was the nonmiracles that puzzled him, when God chose not to intervene. Those were the times that made him question his ability as a doctor and as a man of faith.

Magic padded after him through the waiting room and outside. The cool night air barely penetrated Caleb’s dark mood.

Banjo music drifted down Main from one of the saloons. Raucous laughter rolled out of another. Despite Aunt Bessie’s best efforts, saloon owners refused to stay closed on Sundays and still sold alcohol to youths.

Several drunks staggered along the boardwalk singing a tuneless song. Earlier, gunfire had sent the marshal racing to the far end of town.

A woman Caleb recognized as the barber’s wife waltzed into a saloon and reappeared moments later, dragging her husband out by the ear.

A drunk lay on the boardwalk, snoring soundly and reeking of whiskey.

Caleb wasn’t a drinking man, but at the moment he envied the man his oblivion.

Chapter 25

D
onny fed Orbit a fresh garden carrot. Earlier Molly had tied Orbit to the verandah railing so that Donny could talk to him, and the little black horse was good company.

“You like that, eh?”

The horse’s head bobbed up and down. He then poked his nose around looking for more.

“That’s enough for you today.”

Donny ran his hand along the horse’s neck and sighed. The horse’s future was in as much jeopardy as his own. He could still picture his sister and Doc together, the way they laughed and looked at each other. The way his sister fairly danced when she walked.

It scared him. It scared him so much he could hardly breathe. If she married, she would put him away and he would never see her again. He’d rather die than live in an asylum and lose the only family he had left.

But what could he do about it? Stop working with the doctor? He hated the idea of not seeing Doc Fairbanks. He looked forward to their sessions. The doctor made him work hard, but already Donny felt the difference in his arms and shoulders.

Still, he loved Molly more than anything else in the world. He had no choice. He must stop the doctor from coming to the ranch or risk losing her.

Donny rehearsed what to say and how to say it. He didn’t want to hurt the doctor’s feelings or seem ungrateful.

The moment he heard Bertha in the distance, he practiced his speech.
It’s not fair to take you away from your other patients.
Donny grimaced. Doc Fairbanks would never believe his sudden concern for others.

I’m not doing any more exercises. They hurt too much
. No, he had used that too many times in the past and it never worked. The doctor simply shrugged and made him work harder.

Think, think
. I can’t continue working with you because . . . because . . .

When Doc’s automobile pulled up in front, Donny almost panicked. Nothing he could think to say seemed right.

Doc Fairbanks jogged up to the verandah. “Sorry I’m late.” He bounded up the steps. “Let’s get to work.”

“I’m not working. I’m done.”

“Done, eh?” Doc Fairbanks petted Orbit. The little horse whinnied and moved his head from side to side. He turned to Donny. “What do you say we go for a drive? I’ll even let you steer.”

Surprised, Donny gaped at him. Expecting an argument, he was caught off guard. Steer? Did he say steer? “Are . . . are you serious?”

Doc Fairbanks studied him with intense eyes and Donny felt like he was under a microscope. “It looks like you could use some sunshine and fresh air.”

Hesitating, Donny’s mind whirled. Was this a trick to get closer to Molly? “I’m crippled.” It was his standard answer for everything.

“You steer with your hands, not your feet. I’ll work the brakes and gas pedal. All you have to do is stay on the road.”

It was an irresistible offer, and though everything inside him shouted no
,
his nodding head said yes
.

Moments later Donny was situated in the driver’s seat, his hand on the steering column. Caleb cranked the motor and leaped into the passenger seat.

“A couple of things,” Caleb shouted over the engine noise. “Don’t oversteer. It’s also common courtesy to assist any horse and buggy you run off the road. Understood?”

“How do I assist anyone if I can’t walk?”

“As long as you can talk, you can assist, and if you can’t assist, offer an apology for the inconvenience you caused.” Doc glanced around to make sure the way was clear. “Just remember, the motor provides the power but the driver—that would be you—provides the brains. Ready?”

“Ready!” Donny’s heart raced with excitement. Mouth dry, he grasped the steering shaft with a shaking hand. Magic barked from the backseat as if to announce he was ready too.

Doc arranged himself so that he could reach the gas pedal. “Here we go!”

The car lurched forward, throwing Donny back against his seat. It was harder to steer than it looked. The car veered either left or right with every bump in the road and it was all Donny could do to stay on the road.

One hand on the dash, the doc stared straight ahead. “I haven’t been so nervous since performing my first surgery.”

Donny brushed the sweat off his forehead with his free arm. “I don’t know what you’re nervous about,” he yelled back. “I’m the one driving.”

Doc laughed. “Hold on,” he shouted. He gave the engine more gas and Bertha picked up speed.

Donny couldn’t remember ever having more fun. “Faster!” he cried. “I want to go faster.”

On the road ahead he spotted Molly on horseback. She moved to the side of the road to let them pass. Both he and the doctor waved as they drove by and her jaw dropped.

Donny laughed. He’d hate to be in the doctor’s shoes when Molly got hold of him. Knowing his sister, she would probably ban him from coming to the ranch.

The thought tickled him to the core. He couldn’t have planned things more perfectly had he tried.