Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) (35 page)

“I guess that’s good, then.”

Donny nodded. “He said she has a concussion but he doesn’t think there’s anything more seriously wrong.”

“Excellent.” Now what? Eleanor knew what to do with a sick steer or injured horse, but a human? She hadn’t even known what to do when her daughter was so ill all those years ago.

“Tell your sister that I came to see her and . . . and I’ll talk to her when she’s recovered.” She turned and let herself out of the room. Robert said it was her duty to visit Molly and so her duty was done.

She’d barely made it to the stairwell when the boy called to her. “Miss Walker.”

She turned and waited for him to work his wheelchair through the narrow doorway. He banged against the door frame, muttering beneath his breath. At last he succeeded in turning the chair sideways and easing himself into the hall. Working his wheels with his hands, he rolled within a few feet from where she stood.

“What is it?” she asked. “Speak up.”

In the dim light of the hotel hall, his eyes looked like pools of green water. “I want to work for you.”

She arched her eyebrows.

“Like I told you, I’m good with numbers.”

“I believe I made it clear that my offer was contingent on your sister’s ability to learn the ranching business.” She turned toward the stairs.

“I like your ranch,” he said, stopping her in her tracks. “I’ve read practically all your books and I know all about cattle.”

She regarded him over her shoulder. “Do you, now?”

“I know that Hereford cattle were first brought to this country by Henry Clay. I also know that bulls can’t see the color red so it’s not true that it makes them angry.” He quickly listed several other facts, some involving cattle heritage, weight, and habits. “Cattle also have amazing memories.”

Resting a hand on the newel, she let him rattle on. Mercy, could she be any more accommodating? Visiting the injured. Stepping foot in a town she loathed. Feeling sorry for a young man who obviously didn’t need her sympathy. Was all this insipid behavior a sign of old age?

“I also know that cows are the only mammals that pee backwards,” he added.

Eleanor laughed; she couldn’t help it. She was impressed not only with his knowledge but his obvious enthusiasm and interest. She doubted that any of her cowhands knew as much about cattle or their history.

“And I have more ideas on how to make the ranch more profitable,” he continued. “Do you want to hear them?”

No, she did not want to hear them
.
She wanted to go home. Still, there was something about the earnest face that touched a chord. He was a handsome lad, with the same green eyes as his sister. What a pity the boy couldn’t walk. She could use someone like him.

“Perhaps another time,” she said.

“So what do you say? Can I work for you?” he asked.

“We’ll . . . discuss it after your sister has recovered,” she said. Before he had another chance to plead his case, she started down the stairs. “Good day.”

Outside, Robert stood by his buggy waiting for her. “Take me to the post office,” she said. “Maybe there’ll be a letter from someone interested in learning the ranch business.”

A look of horror crossed Robert’s face. “You didn’t . . .” He glanced up at the hotel as if expecting to see someone jump from a second-story window.

“You’ll be pleased to know that I didn’t even talk to Molly,” she said. “She wasn’t awake.”

A combination of concern and relief suffused Robert’s face before he frowned. “And you decided to dismiss the girl just like that?”

“Let’s just say I’m keeping my options open.”

“That’s a switch,” he said.

“Not as much as you might think,” she said with a determined toss of her head. “Would you be kind enough to draft a bank note from my account to pay for Molly’s medical expenses?”

His eyebrows shot up. “You’re paying her medical bills?”

“Yes, and add extra to cover any other expenses she and her brother might incur during her recovery.”

“Very well.” Robert studied her from beneath the brim of his straw hat. “What happens if Molly doesn’t return to the ranch and no one else steps forward? What then?”

She took a deep breath. “Then I suppose I’d have to take your advice and sell.”

“I never thought to hear you say such a thing.”

“What choice do I have?” she asked. “I may even have to break down and marry you.”

He grinned and offered her his arm. “Now that’s what I call meeting someone halfway,” he said with a nod of approval.

“Only halfway?” She glanced at him as they started toward the post office. “And you accuse
me
of being a bad judge of distance.”

Chapter 32

M
olly opened her eyes. The sky looked strange: brown, odd—hairline cracks veering off in all directions. The “sky” was actually a dirty, cracked ceiling. She was in a
strange room in a strange bed. Something made her turn her head,
a shadow—a presence.

That’s when she saw him, Caleb, kneeling by her bedside. Hands clasped, head lowered to the mattress in prayer, he looked like a man pleading for his life. Never had she seen anyone pray with such intensity.

Not wanting to intrude on his privacy, she turned her head toward the wall. The room grew dark. A wave of nausea washed over her and her moment of clarity was gone.

A distant voice cut through the fog. “You’re awake.”

She blinked. Gradually the ringing in her head subsided and her vision cleared.

With some effort his name fell from her parched lips. “Caleb.”

The moment she spoke, the lines of worry left his face. He leaned over and squeezed her hand. “Take it easy.”

Her mind whirled in confusion. “What . . . what happened? Where am I?” And why was her mouth stuffed with cotton? “The fire—”

Caleb squeezed her hand tighter. “You’re not in Dobson Creek. You’re in Cactus Patch, Arizona, and you were thrown from a horse.” Visions flashed through her head. Fire, smoke. Then a horse. She held on to the last memory. She could almost feel the pounding of horse’s hooves beneath her—then nothing.

“Can you say your name?” he asked.

Her mind turned over slowly. “Molly . . . Ann . . . Hatfield.”

“Molly Ann,” he said and smiled.

She tried to smile back but her mouth refused to cooperate. “Molly.”

“Molly,” he said in a quieter voice. He indicated the room with a slight toss of his head. “This is what we call the infirmary.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. She glanced around the room. “Donny!” Her brother . . . must get to him. She struggled to sit up but Caleb held her down, his hands lingering on her shoulders long after she’d grown still.

“Donny’s fine,” he said, releasing her. “He’s staying at Aunt Bessie’s house.”

“You . . . you’re taking care of him?”

“Actually, he’s taking care of me. Aunt Bessie has taken a liking to him and that means she’s spending less time worrying about me. Donny’s helping her write letters to get support for prohibition.”

She laid a hand on her forehead. That couldn’t be right. Donny was interested in science, not . . . not prohibition.

Caleb grinned. “Donny is giving Aunt Bessie a thorough education in outer space and she, in turn, is teaching him about what she calls ‘dens of iniquity.’”

She tried to smile but her face felt like it was about to crack. She could well imagine the conversations between the two. She
tried to sit up but a sharp pain shot through her rib cage and she groaned.

“Careful. You’re still bruised, but as far as I can tell, nothing is broken.” He helped her sit up. Plumping her pillow, he arranged it behind her and she leaned back.

Something popped into her head. “Sandstorm. That’s the name of the new bay. I remember putting him through his paces.”

“Anything else you remember?”

She shook her head. Arranging the sheet, she realized she wore only her chemise. Someone had undressed her. Caleb? Blushing, she glanced at him pouring water from a pitcher, but nothing in his expression gave her pause.

“Here you go.” He handed her a glass. His hand touched hers and he quickly drew away. His air of professionalism made it easier to maintain her distance. He was the doctor, she the patient. If only she didn’t remember the night he was so much more . . .

She took a long sip before handing the glass back to him. “Thank you.”

“I’ll go downstairs to Miss Lily’s and get you something to eat. Her soup will cure just about anything.”

Her lips softened into a smile, but her mouth still felt parched. “How can I ever repay you for your kindness?”

“Seeing you smile is enough,” he said. His gentle expression was anything but professional and a warm glow inched along the length of her, soothing her injuries like a healing salve.

She lowered her gaze and picked a ball of lint off the blanket. “How long have I been here?” It hurt to breathe but the huskiness in her voice had as much to do with emotion as pain. Donny was all right and for that she was grateful, but taking care of him was a demanding job. Caleb and Aunt Bessie were bound to grow weary.

“Since yesterday.”

She touched her forehead. She could not believe it. She remembered being carried, remembered someone dabbing a cool sponge on her head, but after that, nothing.

“You have a concussion but the swelling has subsided.”

“How long do I have to stay here?” She was anxious to check on her brother and return to the ranch.

“Another day or two. You’ll be sore for a while. Do you think you can walk? The privy is down the hall.”

She nodded and he helped her don a dressing gown. He held each sleeve until she slipped an arm into the silky lengths. He then tied the gown around her waist. Never had she known such tenderness or concern for her well-being.

“I borrowed this from Aunt Bessie,” he explained.

She slid out of bed and the room started spinning. Caleb grabbed her. “Steady,” he said, holding her until her head cleared.

She blinked. A riot of brightly colored blossoms spilled from baskets and vases, filling the air with sweet fragrance. She’d never seen so many flowers in one place. “What is all this?”

“I’m afraid the church members got a little carried away,” he said.

“Church?” She stared all around her, stunned. “They . . . they did all this? For me?”

“Wait till you see what else they did,” he said and groaned. “We have enough chicken pot pies to last six months.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat but couldn’t stop the tears.

He slipped his arm around her waist. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m more than all right.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He walked her ever so slowly out of the infirmary. When they reached their destination at the end of the hall, he asked, “Do you think you can manage?”

Nodding, she shuffled into the tiny room and closed the door. She glanced into the mirror and shuddered. Her face was white and her hair tumbled down her back in unruly curls. Light-headed, she splashed cold water on her face and immediately felt better.

Moments later she stepped out of the room and swooned.

“Whoa,” he said, wrapping her in his arms. The short trip back to the infirmary exhausted her and she sank gratefully into bed.

“Better get some sleep.”

He said more but her eyelids fluttered shut and the sound of his voice faded away. Was that his lips on her forehead? Did he kiss her or had she only imagined it?

When next she woke, he handed her a cup of chicken soup. “Drink up,” he said. At the moment he was every inch the doctor. She must have been mistaken about the kiss, and a shiver of disappointment raced through her.

She took a sip. The soup tasted good and it went down with little effort. Caleb took the empty cup from her. “Just what the doctor ordered. If you’re a good girl and follow my orders, I’ll even get you some of Miss Lily’s famous ice cream.”

He set the cup on the table, stared out of the window for several moments, and then sat next to her bed. He looked so serious that she immediately clenched her stomach. She twisted her body around until she faced him.

“Caleb, what is it?” Were her injuries worse than he originally led her to believe?

His steady gaze never left her face. “Unless I’m diagnosing or prescribing something, I’m not very good at expressing myself.”

She studied him, not sure what she heard in his voice. He sounded so unlike himself with none of his usual confidence. “Must be a doctor’s curse.”

He rewarded her with a brief smile. “You scared me,” he said. “I thought I’d lost you.”

She held her breath. This wasn’t the doctor speaking. Nor were the eyes gazing at her doctor’s eyes. “Caleb—”

He leaned forward. Elbows on his knees, he rubbed his palms together. “I told God that if He brought you back to me I’d never want for anything more.”

She took a deep breath, letting her hand drop to the side. “Don’t,” she whispered.

“I know, I know. This isn’t the time or place, but I thought I’d never get a chance to tell you how I feel. The truth is . . . I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you wearing that ridiculous purple hat and pointing a shotgun at me.”