When the Heart Heals (11 page)

Bodie bounded off the porch, his tail telegraphing his delight at being allowed to accompany his mistress. Rosemary followed him down the steps and then stopped short, staring in horror at her garden. Tidy rows of seedlings had been uprooted and trampled into the dirt. Outraged, she jerked off her gloves, dropping to her knees on the brick pathway. “My plants! Who could have done this?”

Bending over the flattened earth, she lifted a diminutive lavender start. Its roots dangled, limp and broken. She flung the destroyed herb at the fence. “I spent hours on Saturday in my garden, and now look. Is anything left?” She raked through the ruins of her work with her fingers, lifting one shoot after another and setting aside those whose roots appeared intact.

Cassie dithered next to the gate. “This is dreadful. What are you going to do?” She clutched her embroidered handbag close to her chest like a shield. “You can't just drop everything to—”

“Yes, I can. These plants won't live if their roots are
exposed all day.” Rosemary stood and squared her shoulders. “I've spent too much time and money on my herbs to let them die.”

“But the doctor—”

“He'll have to understand. I'll be there as soon as possible.” She slid her gaze over Cassie's wide-skirted taffeta dress, knowing there would be no point in asking for her help. “Would you please stop at Dr. Stewart's office on your way to the mercantile? Tell him I've been delayed.”

After Cassie hurried away, Rosemary placed her gloves and carryall on the porch and marched to the greenhouse for a trowel and watering can.

Sun leaked through a filter of fragmented clouds as she dug one circular hole after another and tucked undamaged plants back into the soil. She was thankful to note the furry leaves of her second-year mullein growing next to the fence hadn't been disturbed, probably because the plant looked like a weed. Bodie stretched out on the top step watching her work.

“Some watchdog you are,” she said. “Why didn't you bark when this happened?”

He thumped his tail.

She walked over and rubbed his neck, then returned to sorting, planting, and discarding. An empty bucket served to collect seedlings whose roots had been destroyed. By the time she finished her task, the sun floated above the clouds and warmed her back. Past noon. Dr. Stewart would probably order her to turn around and go home the moment she arrived.

Rosemary wiped her hands on the towel she'd used as a kneeling pad and then flexed her stiff shoulders. After resting for a moment, she'd go inside to wash and pin up the hair that had come loose at the nape of her neck. Then she'd face the doctor.

“Miss Saxon. Are you hurt?” His voice boomed through the quiet. The gate squeaked on its hinges and with brisk strides he stood beside her. He extended his hand. “Are you able to rise?”

“Of course I am.” She reached up with earth-stained fingers and permitted his strong grasp to draw her to her feet.

“I was concerned when you didn't arrive. Evidently you decided you'd rather work outside than in my office.”

“Didn't Miss Haddon give you my message?”

“I haven't seen her this morning, but I've been busy with patients most of the time.”

She massaged her temple, not caring that she was probably leaving smudges on her face. “I asked her to stop on the way to the mercantile.” She blew out an exasperated breath and pointed at her freshly bedded herbs. “This was an emergency. Someone trampled my garden—either during the night or early this morning. I had to try to save all I could.”

He folded his arms and studied her.

She held her breath.

His gaze moved from her face to the replanted area. “You prepare your . . . remedies from these herbs?”

“Some of them. Others are kept in my greenhouse, and I've ordered a few roots from back east. Not many, though. Too expensive.”

“Then you should notify Sheriff Cooper. Whoever did this trespassed on your property—that's illegal. You could collect damages.”

Rosemary gave a derisive snort. “Sheriff Cooper is a far cry from the Pinkertons. I'd have to lead him by the hand and personally point out the miscreant.”

“I doubt that. As it happens, I've spent time with Thaddeus and find him to be a reasonable fellow. I'll mention to him what happened here.”

“Please don't. There's nothing he can do.” She saw no need to inform him that her distrust of Sheriff Cooper began with the man's unfounded harassment of her brother. The story might be old news, but the wounds caused to her family had yet to heal. She lifted the bucket containing ruined plants. “If you'll excuse me . . .”

“Certainly.” A genial smile replaced the puzzled expression on his face. “Likely you'll require a few minutes to freshen up. I'll expect you by one o'clock.” He directed his attention to the porch. “Bring your dog.”

R
osemary arrived promptly at one and flipped through the pile of receipts Dr. Stewart had shoved into the center drawer of her desk. When he told her his accounts were in disarray, he hadn't exaggerated. Still, things could have been worse. He'd noted the date on each item. Once she put the receipts in order, posting them to the ledger wouldn't take long. Then she'd be ready to help with patients.

Bodie sniffed in circles around the reception area. After a thorough inspection, he collapsed at Rosemary's feet.

“Good boy. You stay right there and be quiet.”

She glanced at the closed door to the examination room. Bodie's behavior would be tested when the patient emerged. In spite of her earlier bravado, she knew Dr. Stewart wouldn't let the dog remain if he proved hostile to strangers.

The latch clicked and the doctor stepped into the room, followed by an older man whose face resembled the grooved bark on a bitternut hickory tree. He clutched a square brown bottle in his right hand. The man's eyes widened when he saw her. “What's a woman doing here?”

Bodie growled low in his throat. She clutched the scruff of his neck and gaped at the stranger.

Dr. Stewart stepped between them. “Miss Saxon is my nurse. Don't worry, she'll keep your visit confidential.”

“Miss Saxon, is it?” He studied her face for a long moment. “Know all about you. Wondered what you looked like.” After slapping a stained brown slouch hat over his white hair, he compressed his lips and limped to the door.

Once he left, Rosemary released her grip on Bodie's neck. “Who was
that
?”

“Name's Abraham Grice.”

“Have you treated him before?”

“First time. He's a strange one. Most of my patients have taken the sight of a female nurse more calmly.” He handed her a crumpled bank note with a receipt. “Enter his complaint as gout, please.”

She took comfort from the “please,” hoping his kindly tone meant he wasn't upset about her dog's reaction to the patient.

“I'm sorry Bodie growled. I really believed he'd behave himself. He never bothered customers when I had him with me at the mercantile.”

“I don't blame him for growling. The man sounded hostile. Your dog thought you needed protecting.” Dr. Stewart leaned against the wall, a sympathetic expression on his face. “What a way to welcome you back. Mr. Grice notwithstanding, I'm glad you're here.” His face flushed. “I mean, the paperwork is in need of some organization.”

“I noticed.” She hid a smile as he ducked into his private office. Once in a while his starch and bluster façade cracked and the young doctor she remembered broke through.

The following Sunday, Rosemary bent over her garden while she waited for Jacob to arrive, wishing she'd never agreed to a second buggy ride. It wasn't fair to encourage
him. Spotting a yellowed geranium toppled on the ground, she reached for the dead plant, taking care not to drag her blue and gray wool skirt through the soil. Only one casualty over the week. Better than she'd hoped. At the sound of horses' hooves, she turned and saw Jacob stop his buggy next to the hitching post. She waved a polite greeting.

He jumped down and wrapped the reins through the loop at the top of the post. “Tending your flowers, I see.” In contrast to the garb he wore at work—shirtsleeves and dark blue trousers, covered by an apron—today he was dressed in an iron-gray suit. Its careful tailoring flattered his stocky build, while the white collar on his shirt accented his dusky skin and black moustache. If he'd dressed to impress her, he'd succeeded. Perhaps this would be a pleasant afternoon after all.

“I'm afraid this one's past help,” she said, displaying the floppy geranium clasped in her left hand. She opened the gate and smiled up at him. “Please come in. I'll be ready to leave as soon as I fetch my shawl.”

When they entered the sitting room, Cassie lifted her gaze from her needlework. “Mr. West. How nice to see you.” She gave him a polite smile and then turned back to her tatting.

He bowed in her direction. “And you as well, Miss Haddon.” His tone was courteous, but his attention remained on Rosemary as she lifted her gray fringed shawl from the back of a chair and handed it to him. As soon as he draped the soft wool over her shoulders, he took her elbow and guided her to the door.

Rosemary paused and turned to Cassie. “Would you please check on Bodie after a while? He's on the back porch sunning himself.”

“Of course.” Cassie sighed. Her lower lip trembled the tiniest bit.

“Miss Haddon seemed to be in low spirits,” Jacob said as they walked toward the buggy.

“She worries about her mother. And of course, she's at loose ends. Mr. Bingham ordered her to find employment, but she has no particular skills. I can't imagine him turning her out like that.”

After helping her onto the tufted leather seat, he lifted the reins and clucked at the horse, then they rolled west on King's Highway. “Will Miss Haddon continue to stay with you?”

Rosemary considered her answer for a long moment before replying. Although providing for Cassie's healthy appetite put a strain on her finances, she didn't want to give Jacob the idea she'd welcome further help with groceries. She looked up at him and found his intent gaze upon her.

“Cassie may stay as long as she wishes.” Rosemary lifted her lips in a half smile. “‘Woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.' I'm just making sure she's not alone.”

“Your generosity is one of your many admirable qualities.”

“You're too kind,” she murmured, her cheeks warm.

“Not at all.” He guided the horse around the courthouse square and west onto High Street. They passed the livery stable and then the two-story brick home where Faith and Curt lived with Judge Lindberg. Soon residences gave way to thick vegetation interrupted by rocky outcroppings and gurgling streams.

Rosemary broke the silence that had fallen between them. “Pioneer Lake should be lovely today. I haven't been there yet this spring.”

“No doubt it is. We'll see it from the road. There's something just beyond that I'd like to show you.”

With another person, she'd have felt uneasy traveling so far from town, but Jacob's solid presence reassured her. She never
heard of him crossing the lines of propriety. At the moment, he looked so pleased with himself that her curiosity stirred.

“What are we going to see?”

“Be patient. We're almost there.”

The road wound above the shores of Pioneer Lake, then led up a long hill. Jacob turned the horses onto a less-used track and followed a stream that gurgled over flat rocks.

Uneasy, Rosemary gazed around at the oak trees pressing in on each side of the buggy. The lake lay somewhere below, hidden by the forest. Her confidence in Jacob's integrity wavered. She scooted as far away as the buggy seat permitted.

Jacob kept his attention on the horse as they made their way over the rough terrain. In a few minutes they reached the top of the hill where a small pond gleamed yellow and green in the filtered light that slipped through the leaves. He pulled up on the reins.

“Here it is. What do you think?”

She remained pressed against the side of the buggy. She should never have allowed him to take her this far from the main road. Her mind filled with whispered stories she'd heard of women who'd been ruined because they were too trusting.

“What do I think of what?” she asked, her tone wary.

He waved his arm in a broad sweep, taking in the clearing where they'd stopped. “This piece of land. The owner came in last week and wants to sell. I told him I wanted another opinion before I made a commitment—your opinion, to be exact.”

Her eyes widened. “We hardly know each other. Shouldn't you ask someone else?”

“Who?” He remained on his side of the seat, making no attempt to move closer.

Some of the tension left her shoulders. He'd brought her
here to see the land, not to compromise her honor. In a few minutes, they'd no doubt turn around and leave.

“How about your partner, Mr. Riley?”

Jacob threw back his head and guffawed. “Colin Riley lives in Boston,” he said when he regained control. “What does he care if I build a house up here?”

Heat flooded her face. “I didn't know. I always assumed he stayed in a back room somewhere, balancing your accounts.” As she said the words, she realized how ridiculous she sounded. “I'm sorry. I've been reading too many novels by Mr. Dickens.”

“Colin loaned me a stake to open my store.” He chuckled again. “Back when I was in my twenties he hired me and taught me the grocery trade. When I wanted to come west, he offered to help. His name's on the business because without him I'd still be . . .” He dropped his gaze. “Well, I'd still be in Boston.”

He reached across the seat and clasped her gloved hand. “Forgive me for laughing. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Apology accepted.” She slipped her hand free. “But my mistake aside, why would you want my opinion?”

“You're a sensible lady. If I build a house here, it will be because I've chosen a wife and plan to start a family. Do you think this land is suitable?”

She surveyed the grassy flat, which curved downward toward the west. Thick oak and hickory trees grew on all sides. In the distance, water gurgled over rocks. When she raised her eyes, she caught him watching her. Not wanting to give him false hope, she chose her words with care. “It's lovely. Any girl would be happy in such a spot.”

“I feared you'd think this was too far from town. Don't ladies like to pay calls on one another and such?”

“Some do, certainly. However, not everyone is involved in a
social circle.” She dared a teasing smile in his direction. “This road does run both ways, does it not? I presume your wife would be able to visit Noble Springs whenever necessary.”

A fleeting thought about Cassie's mother darted through her head. Mrs. Bingham's visits to Noble Springs had diminished over the months of her marriage. Rosemary's mind rested on the woman's situation for a brief second, then she caught herself. She shouldn't be worrying about Cassie's life now, of all times. She turned her full attention back to Jacob.

He captured her gaze with his intense brown eyes. “I wouldn't deny my wife anything she wanted, be it in Noble Springs or St. Louis.”

Rosemary's heart gave a little flutter at the message behind his words. She hoped he didn't mean her. Time to change the subject. One and a half buggy rides didn't constitute a courtship. She glanced at the western side of the clearing, noting the sun angling behind the hill. “Perhaps we should start home. The afternoon is fading.”

He nodded and shook the reins over the horse's back, guiding the buggy in a half-circle until they faced downhill. “So it is. I need to check on the restaurant's receipts for the day.” He grinned at her. “Since I don't have Mr. Riley stashed in a back room, the accounts are part of my duties.”

She chuckled, enjoying his rare flash of humor.

The buggy jolted into motion down the rugged track, rocking like a boat on a choppy lake. The horse's iron shoes rang when its hooves struck against rocks jutting up in wagon ruts. Rosemary kept her feet jammed against the floor so she wouldn't bounce into Jacob's side. When they reached the turn to the more-traveled road, the buggy gave an additional lurch and settled sideways against a chokecherry.

She banged her shoulder on the side of the buggy when
Jacob jerked the reins to prevent the horse from dragging them forward. He turned anxious eyes on her. “Are you hurt?”

“Not at all. Startled? Very.” She straightened on the tilted seat and peered over the side. “What happened?”

He didn't answer until he'd set the brake and jumped to the ground. “The back wheel must've run off into a hole. I'll line up some rocks and roll us out of here.” He tied the reins to a branch, then removed his jacket and placed it on the seat. When he rolled up his shirtsleeves, she had a clear view of the dark hair that covered his muscular forearms.

Rosemary's eyebrows shot up at the sight. He looked strong enough to lift the buggy with her still in it.

His next observation dashed her hopes of such a quick resolution to their dilemma. “Wheel's broken. Must've got stuck between two rocks.” He leaned against the side of the buggy and removed his hat, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. “Can't be repaired. Got to get a new one.” Leafy shadows cast by the setting sun speckled his white shirt.

“What . . . what are we going to do?” She pushed the words past the fright that clutched her throat.

“Only one thing we can do.” He strode to his horse and began unfastening the harness. When the animal was free of the shafts, he led it next to the carriage and held out his hand to her. “We'll ride Jackson to town.”