Winnie Griggs (10 page)

And without a word, he headed in the direction she’d pointed.

They walked the five blocks to Dr. Pratt’s office in silence. Everett was acutely conscious of his undignified appearance, and of the curious looks they were getting, but Daisy seemed oblivious. He hadn’t felt like such a spectacle since he’d been the subject of one of Reggie’s unorthodox trials last summer.

Trying to block that out, and prove he was not a fusspot, but rather a confident and fastidious gentleman, Everett focused on keeping a steady pace and not jostling his hand.

When they finally reached the doctor’s home, Daisy scurried ahead to knock on the door.

Dr. Pratt’s wife let them in and immediately escorted them to the wing that served as the doctor’s clinic. A moment later, Dr. Pratt was examining Everett’s now painfully swollen hand.

In the end, he confirmed Everett’s earlier prediction. “Nothing’s broken, but it’s going to hurt something terrible for the next few days. And I’m afraid you may lose the nail on your index finger.” He rolled down his sleeves. “But I don’t see any reason why those fingers won’t heal cleanly, assuming you take good care of yourself.”

“Thank you.” Everett gave Daisy an I-told-you-so look, but refrained from saying it aloud.

“Is there anything Mr. Fulton can do to ease the pain in the meantime?”

The physician studied her a moment, then nodded. “I could provide him with laudanum if the pain gets to be more than he can bear, but—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Everett stood, ready to be done with this.

“In that case, I recommend some of this medicinal tea to help you sleep tonight.” He pulled a small packet from a glass-fronted cabinet. “And it would be a good idea to wear a sling to keep that hand shielded from accidental bumps until it’s less tender.”

As they walked back toward their offices, Daisy patted his arm as if comforting a child. “I’ll feed Kip, and then I’m going to fix you a nice dinner.”

“There’s no need for you to trouble yourself. I plan to eat some of the food left from earlier and then get back to work.”

She eyed him uncertainly. “Do you really think you’re up to that?”

Her concern was beginning to sound suspiciously like mollycoddling. That fusspot comment still rankled. Did she think he was some milksop who couldn’t deal with a bit of pain? “Please don’t concern yourself,” he said stiffly. “Yes, I smashed some fingers on my left hand, but that’s more of an inconvenience than a problem.”

He saw the determination in her expression, but it was mixed with exhaustion. He wasn’t about to let her add to her own workload over some misguided sense of guilt. “Don’t you have some laundry-related chores to take care of?”

She nodded, but her expression remained mulish. “A little delay won’t hurt anything.”

By this time they’d reached her door, and he decided a firm tone was in order. “I appreciate your concern, but you take care of your business and let me take care of mine.” With a short bow, he turned and entered his own office.

An hour later, Everett wasn’t quite so sure of his ability to manage things, after all. His hand still throbbed painfully, and it seemed to have infected him with an unaccustomed clumsiness. It turned out typesetting was considerably more difficult to do one-handed than he’d imagined it would be.

He bumped his injured hand, and his reaction resulted in type scattered across the floor. The echoes of his frustrated growl still hung in the air when his door opened. Daisy stood there, hesitating on his threshold, a small basket on her arm. What did she want now? “Can I do something for you?”

She stepped farther into the room, leaving the door open behind her. “I’ve done all I plan to do with the laundry tonight. I thought I’d check in to see how you were faring.”

“I’m fine.”

Her quickly suppressed wince let him know his frustration had come through in his voice. A low growl from the doorway drew his gaze. Her dog sat there, watching him balefully. Just what he needed right now—an edgy dog and an oversolicitous woman.

He turned back to Daisy and moderated his tone. “I’m doing all right, but I
am
busy right now.”

She raised the basket. “I brought some willow-bark tea—it’s my own special recipe. And I have an ointment that’ll help deaden some of the pain.” Her smile and tone had an uncertain quality to them, as if she expected to be turned away. “I know you don’t like to be fussed over, but there’s no point suffering any more than necessary.”

Everett heaved a mental sigh. “I suppose a spot of tea would be nice about now.”

He was rewarded with a generous smile as she hurried over and unpacked her basket at his desk.

He joined her there and watched as she quickly unscrewed the lid on a mason jar and poured its contents into a cup. “Here you go,” she said, offering it to him. “One cup of my special medicinal tea.”

He took a tentative sip and was surprised by the flavor. It had a slightly metallic tang to it, but there were notes of vanilla and some spice that was almost pleasant.

As she reached for the other item in her basket, she frowned at him. “I thought the doc told you to wear a sling.”

“I think it was more a suggestion than a directive.”

He could tell she wasn’t pleased with his response, but to his surprise, she let it go and pulled out a small pot. “If you’ll allow me, I’d like to massage this on your injured hand.”

He looked at her skeptically, not sure he wanted anyone touching his still-tender digits.

“I promise I’ll take it easy,” she said. “But this really will help ease the pain.” She dipped a flat wooden stick into the pot and scooped up the waxy-looking concoction. Then she extended her left hand expectantly, palm up.

He gingerly placed his swollen, painfully bruised hand in her palm.

She ever so gently began to spread the ointment onto his bruised skin. Her motions were deft, gentle, butterfly soft. The palm under his hand was warm and supportive.

In a matter of seconds, he began to feel a cooling sensation wherever the ointment touched, and then a blessed numbness.

She finally looked up, meeting his gaze. “How’s that?”

He found himself captured by the way the soft light brought out the bronze glints in her coffee-colored eyes. “Much better, thank you.”

With a pleased nod, she turned to replace the lid on her ointment pot.

He swallowed, then tried to hide his momentary discomfiture with a lighter tone. “You should go into the apothecary business rather than opening a restaurant.”

She smiled but shook her head. “I enjoy cooking much more. Besides, Turnabout already has an apothecary.”

She frowned as she took in the sight of the scattered type. “You’re working on getting the paper ready to print.”

“Of course. Tomorrow
is
Friday.”

“But your hand is injured. Can’t you delay the newspaper a day or so? I’m sure folks will understand when they hear what happened.”

That just showed how little she understood him. “That’s not necessary. I might be slower and clumsier than normal, but I’ll manage. I haven’t missed a deadline since I printed the first
Turnabout Gazette,
and I see no reason to start now.” It was a point of pride with him to get his paper out on time, every time.

Then he grimaced. “This is no more than what I deserve for getting off schedule. I should have had most of this set by noon instead of leaving it until this evening.” He wouldn’t look too closely at why that had happened.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “If you’re so set on this, then I’m going to assist you.”

Everett noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the hint of weariness in the set of her shoulders. She’d had an exhausting day—she probably hadn’t rested at all since they’d returned from Dr. Pratt’s office. She needed to get some sleep, not help him with his work.

Besides, just how much help could an untrained female be? “I told you, I don’t hold you responsible for what happened.”

“But
I
do.” She firmly tucked a tendril behind her ear. “I know I can’t do the job as well as you, but I can be your hands. You stand next to me and tell me what needs doing, and I’ll get it done.”

Everett thought about all he had left to accomplish before morning and was sorely tempted. But he didn’t want to take advantage of her. “I’ll be working quite late.”

That didn’t appear to weaken her resolve. “All the more reason I should help—maybe together we can shave a few hours off that time. Besides, I’ve stayed up through the night before and probably will again.”

Stubborn female. But all this arguing was wasting time. He gave a short nod. “Very well. Let’s see if we can make this work.” He moved to one of the wall sconces. “But first we should brighten this room up.” Dusk had fallen, and shadows were creeping into the room. He also opened the outer door wider and made certain the shades on the storefront windows were up. She could call him a fusspot if she liked, but he planned to take every precaution that no hint of impropriety was attached to Daisy’s presence here.

Daisy moved to the other wall and lit the sconces there.

Once the room was suitably illuminated and all hint of privacy removed, Everett showed her the articles that needed to be prepped and then walked her through the process. Then he painstakingly, letter by letter, instructed her on where to place the type and which type to use.

Daisy was surprisingly dexterous and took direction well. It was equally surprising that it didn’t take much longer than it usually did when he worked alone. But by the time they were done, the day’s events had taken their toll on both of them. Exhaustion had turned Daisy’s natural cheery outlook into a mild case of giddiness.

And he was tired enough to find it amusing.

When the last page was finally printed and placed on the drying rack, Daisy turned and stretched.

“We did it,” she said, as if it had been a monumental accomplishment. Then she giggled and did a triumphant little dance step. Unfortunately, she bumped into a nearby file cabinet as she did so.

She continued giggling as Everett reached out to steady her, and suddenly she was in his embrace again. Her giggling abruptly stopped as her eyes widened in surprise, and something else. Was his reaction equally telling? Because she felt every bit as good in his arms today as she had yesterday.

Everett closed his eyes to steady himself, but that was a mistake. His senses were immediately flooded with an awareness of her scent, her breathing, her warmth—of
her.

After what seemed ages, but was probably only a heartbeat or two of time, they separated. There was no sign left of her giddiness, and bright spots of red stained her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry.” She didn’t quite meet his gaze. “I don’t know what—”

“No need to apologize. We’ve both had a long day.” Everett was glad his tone held steady. He cast a quick look at the open doorway and was relieved to see that, except for her dog, the sidewalk was deserted. It had been an accidental and totally innocent embrace, but others might not view it that way.

He put more distance between them, moving to the type cabinet. “Thank you for your help tonight, but I think I can finish the rest on my own.”

“Yes, of course.” She took a deep breath and looked around, as if seeking an answer from his furnishings. Then she straightened and turned an over-bright smile on him. “I’ll take my leave, then.”

“Of course. Good evening, and it’ll be okay if you’re a little late tomorrow.”

She crossed to the door, her shoes beating a rapid tattoo across the floor. Out on the sidewalk, she gave her dog a quick rub. “Come on, Kip. Time to go home.”

Everett followed slowly, watching to see she made it safely inside her place.

She never so much as glanced back.

Everett closed his door and then lowered the shades and turned out the lights. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t interested in her in that way, yet this was the second time in as many days that he’d found himself holding her in his arms. And enjoying every minute of it.

They’d both been exhausted tonight, he’d still been in some pain and neither was thinking clearly. It had been nothing more than that.

Still, the memory of how right she’d felt in his arms lingered with him long after he’d climbed the stairs.

* * *

Daisy stared at the ceiling as she lay in bed. What had come over her? If she was being honest with herself, that embrace hadn’t been totally accidental, at least not on her part. She’d never hugged a man before—well, except for her father and that didn’t count. Yet now she’d found herself in Everett’s arms twice in as many days. And she was certain, just for a minute, that stuffy ole Everett had hugged her right back.

How was she going to face him tomorrow? She rolled over on her side. The trouble was, she couldn’t find it in her heart to regret either incident. There had been a curious mix of strength and gentleness in his embrace, as if he wanted to both cherish and protect her. It had been a foreign and altogether wonderful feeling.

But she knew it was wrong.

Dear Lord, I’m not sure what’s come over me, and I need Your help to be strong. I know You have a man in mind for me, and it can’t be Everett because we’re so different. I’m truly willing to wait for the right man, and I know it will happen in Your timing. I never thought of myself as fickle before, but maybe I am and that’s what You’re trying to show me—that it’s something in me I need to work on.

She rolled over once again, and Kip let out a small whine from his spot beside her bed.

“Sorry, boy, I’ll try to settle down.” Kip was right. There weren’t many hours left before sunup—she needed to stop this fretting and get some sleep.

She had a feeling she’d need all her wits about her tomorrow.

Chapter Ten

A
s usual, on paper delivery day, Everett rose before dawn. Not that he’d have gotten much sleep, anyway. This morning, however, with his hand still throbbing, he had to figure out an alternative to making the deliveries to the local merchants. He solved that problem by paying Jack and Ira a little extra to make those deliveries for him in addition to the household deliveries they normally made.

When Daisy breezed into his office, he braced himself for a bit of awkwardness, but it turned out to be an unnecessary precaution. She gave him a quick “good morning,” then set a small jar on his desk. “Here’s more of that ointment I used last night,” she said. Then she headed upstairs without stopping for her usual chitchat.

Had her smile been a bit more forced than normal? Or was that only his imagination? He was relieved, naturally, that she’d chosen to act as if nothing had happened—wasn’t he?

As he applied the ointment, he remembered how good it had felt when Daisy did that for him. Then he grimaced—he was turning into a blasted mooncalf.

He’d better focus on his work before he lost all sense of self-respect.

But by midmorning he was so off his game that he actually welcomed the distraction when Chance walked in. The greeting died on his lips, however, when he recognized the young girl accompanying him.

“Abigail!” What was his sister doing here? More important, how in the world had she gotten here?

“Hello, Everett. I’ve come to visit,” she said unnecessarily.

That was all she had to say for herself? “Abigail Blythe Fulton! What—how—” He was having trouble deciding whether to start with questions or a severe scolding.

“I came in on the train, and your friend Mr. Dawson offered to show me to your office.” She gave Chance a dazzling smile.

Chance’s smile had an I’m-really-enjoying-this edge to it. “I met the train this morning because I was expecting some parts I’d ordered. They didn’t arrive, but I found this young lady there, asking Zeke where your place was. When I found out she was your sister, I thought I should escort her here myself.”

Did that mean she’d traveled completely unaccompanied? Everett’s blood froze at the thought of what could have happened to her. He tore his eyes away from his sister long enough to nod Chance’s way. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I’ll leave you two to your visit.” Chance tipped his hat toward Abigail. “Nice meeting you, Miss Abigail.”

Abigail gave him a bright smile. “And you, as well, Mr. Dawson. You’ve been most kind, just like a real cowboy.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Abigail, surely you’re not still infatuated with those silly romantic notions. Not every man in Texas is a cowboy. In fact, Chance here came west with me from Philadelphia.”

Abigail’s lips formed a pout. “Aren’t you glad to see me, even a little bit?”

Everett huffed in exasperation. “
Of course
I’m happy to see you, but that’s entirely beside the point. How did you get here?”

Abigail finally had the grace to look abashed, but she rallied quickly. “By train, of course.”

“Don’t be impertinent.”

She crossed the room to stand directly before him, hands clasped together in front of her. “Please don’t be cross. After all, I made it here safe and sound, and it was
such
a grand adventure. I could almost imagine I was an adventuress, like Nellie Bly.”

“That imagination of yours is going to get you into serious trouble someday, young lady.” Then he pulled her to him in a hug, a fierce longing to protect her from all the ugliness in the world overtaking him. A moment later he set her away, keeping his uninjured hand on her shoulder. “Miss Haversham will be hearing from me. I don’t understand how she could have let you travel all this way on your own. I pay her dearly to make certain you’re well looked after.” Had it been just a few days ago that he’d congratulated himself that Abigail would never be faced with a solo journey the way Daisy had?

“Don’t blame Miss Haversham.” Abigail’s smile faltered, and she dropped her gaze. “I’m afraid I misled her.”

Not surprising. “What did you do?”

She removed her bonnet, still not quite meeting his gaze. “I led her to believe you sent for me and that I needed to leave immediately.”

His exasperation once more overtook his concern. “And she believed you?”

Abigail nibbled at her lower lip a moment. “The official-looking telegram I sent her was quite convincing,” she finally said in a small voice.

This was too much, even for his impulsive little sister. He dropped his hand. “Abigail! Such actions are not only dishonest, they’re rash and unthinking.”

“I know.” Abigail’s expression turned to something very like a childish pout. “It was wrong, and I’m truly sorry. But it’s the only way I could get away.” She met his gaze full-on. “And I
had
to get away from that stifling place.”

“Thinking that the ends justify the means is a slippery slope you don’t want to start down, Abigail.” He ran his right hand through his hair. “Regardless of whatever tales you spun for her, however, it’s still unconscionable that Miss Haversham let you travel alone.”

“Actually, I wasn’t alone when I departed. Miss Haversham hired a very stern woman, one even you would approve of, to accompany me. But partway into our journey, the poor woman took ill. She got off the train at one of the stops in Illinois, and I decided to continue on without her.”

“You decided—” Everett’s blood ran cold at the idea of his overly trusting little sister traveling such a distance on a train full of who knows what kind of people, entirely alone and unprotected. “That was quite reckless. Do you have
any
idea what could have happened to you, a young girl traveling alone?”

“But my escort
couldn’t
travel, and it wouldn’t have been any better for me to travel back to Boston alone than to go forward. And nothing
did
happen, so all is well.” She clasped her hands, her eyes pleading with him to understand. “Oh, Everett, I know lying to Miss Haversham was wrong and I promise to write her a very pretty and penitent letter of apology, and if you want to put me on a strict diet of bread and water for a month I won’t complain. But truly, I could not stand to be in that place any longer. And you made Turnabout sound so wonderful in your letters. You know I’ve always dreamed of one day traveling to Texas.”

Turnabout—wonderful? How had she possibly gotten that from his letters? “Yes, you will most assuredly write that letter of apology, a letter that you will hand deliver when you return to the school on tomorrow’s train.”

Abigail’s whole expression crumpled. “You
can’t
send me back so soon. I’ve only just arrived.”

He refused to let himself be moved by her plea. “You are mistaken. I can, and I will.”

“You don’t understand. The telegram I gave Miss Haversham said I wouldn’t be returning—at all. She’s having all of my things packed and sent here.”

Where had his sister learned such devious behavior? “That’s quickly remedied. I’ll send her a telegram today informing her that there’s been a mistake.”

Her expression turned mutinous. “If you send me back, I’ll run away again.”

Everett clenched his jaw in frustration. The idea of his sister pulling this dangerous stunt yet again was enough to turn his hair gray. He had to find a way to convince her to see reason. “Abigail, you only have another year and a half of school left.” By that time, he would have moved someplace with more polish and refinement than Turnabout. “Once you’re through with your schooling, of course you can live with me.”

“A year and a half is
forever.
” She moaned. “Please, don’t make me go back, not right away. I promise I won’t get in your way. I’ll even be a help. You’ll see. I can keep your place neat and clean, and do your laundry and cooking. I can even help here in the office if you like. I—”

“I didn’t send you to boarding school all these years so you could turn into a household drudge.”

“Then why
did
you send me to that place? It certainly wasn’t to make me happy.”

That gave him pause. Had she truly been so unhappy at Miss Haversham’s? He quickly dismissed that thought—she was just being melodramatic. “I sent you there to make certain you received a good education and that you were surrounded by persons of breeding and good character.” He absently rubbed his chin, then winced as his injured digits protested.

“What’s wrong?” She saw his injury, and her demeanor immediately changed to one of concern. “Oh, my goodness, what did you do to your hand?”

He waved aside her concerns. “I smashed it yesterday. It’ll be fine.”

“Well, it doesn’t look fine.” She stepped closer and gingerly touched the back of his hand. “In fact, it looks awful. Did you have a doctor look at it?”

“I did. And he agreed with me that it’ll be good as new given time.” Sensing her distress, he moderated his tone. “It looks worse than it is.”

“But it must be terribly painful.” She straightened. “I’m more pleased than ever that I’m here. I can take care of you.”

“I’ve been managing fine, thank you.”

She tilted up her chin. “You
do
need someone to look after you.”

“I don’t—”

She held up a hand and cocked her head toward the stairs. “What’s that?”

It took him a moment to realize she was talking about Daisy’s singing.

Before he could explain, she gave him a wide-eyed look. “Everett, do you have a
woman
upstairs?”

Why did he suddenly feel self-conscious? “That’s Miss Johnson, my cook. And don’t go changing the subject. We were discussing your return to Boston.”

Abigail ignored the last part of his statement. “A cook. Why didn’t you mention this Miss Johnson in your letters?”

“Because it’s a recent development. Now, as I was saying—”

But Abigail was no longer paying attention.

“I want to meet her.” Without waiting for permission, she headed for the stairs. “Besides, I want to see what the rest of your place looks like. You can continue your scolding later.”

With a growl of frustration, Everett followed his too-impulsive-for-her-own-good sister upstairs. As he did so, it occurred to him to worry about what the meeting of these two impulsive and sometimes reckless females would result in.

* * *

Daisy, working at the ironing board, tensed as she heard that telltale squeak of the stairs. She took a deep breath and steeled herself to face Everett for the first time since she’d headed upstairs this morning. But the person who appeared wasn’t Everett, but a slender, well-dressed young lady with ginger-brown hair and sparkling eyes.

“Hello,” the young lady called out. “I’m Abigail, Everett’s sister. And you must be Miss Johnson.”

Everett’s
sister?
When had she arrived? And why hadn’t she been told the girl was coming? Surely this wasn’t something that would have just slipped his mind.

She spied Everett just behind his sister, and he looked none too happy. What was going on?

Remembering her manners, Daisy set down the iron and wiped her hands on her apron. “Glad to meet you, Abigail.” She closed the distance between them. “And yes, I’m Daisy Johnson, your brother’s cook and next-door neighbor.”

“I’m so pleased to meet you.” The girl’s smile was infectious. “And also very glad to know Everett no longer has to subsist on his own cooking.”

Daisy grinned. “Your brother didn’t tell me you were expected, or I would have cooked something special.” She cut Everett an accusing look, then wondered if he’d intended to tell her before their little encounter last night. “But don’t you worry,” she said, shaking off those uncomfortable thoughts. “The food might not be special but it’ll be plentiful enough.”

Abigail brushed at her skirt. “Don’t blame Everett. My visit was a surprise.”

“A surprise.” Daisy cast another glance Everett’s way and realized why he looked so grim. “I see. Well, I’m sure it was a lovely surprise.”

Kip, lying in the doorway, let out a couple of attention-getting yips.

Abigail immediately spun toward the sound.

“That’s just Kip,” Daisy said. “He’s probably wanting an introduction.” Did Everett’s sister share his dislike for dogs? “Don’t worry, though,” she added quickly. “Kip stays over on my side of the wall, just like your brother asked.”

Abigail glanced up at her brother. “You banished this sweet animal from your home?” She shook her head sadly. “I shouldn’t be surprised.” Then she turned to Daisy. “Unlike Everett, I love dogs. I always wanted one of my own, but they aren’t allowed at Miss Haversham’s. Do you mind if I pet him?”

“Not at all. And he loves it when you scratch him behind the ears.”

Abigail stooped down in front of Kip and ruffled his fur. “Aren’t you just the handsomest animal?” Then she glanced back, her expression one of childish delight. “Look, Everett, he has one blue eye and one brown eye.”

“I’m aware.”

The fact that he’d noticed surprised Daisy. But his dry tone, indicating he didn’t find it particularly endearing, did not.

“Oh, that must be your place.” Abigail was looking past Kip into the room beyond.

“It is.” What did the girl think about the sparse, makeshift furnishings?

But Abigail went back to cooing over Kip, and Daisy cut a questioning glance Everett’s way.

His expression had a long-suffering look. “I’m sorry if having an extra person to cook for complicates things for you. As Abigail stated, I wasn’t aware she was coming until she showed up on my doorstep.”

She could tell he wasn’t pleased by that occurrence. “But now that she’s here, surely you can look on it as a nice surprise.”

“Nice is not the word I’d use. Abigail ran away from school and is refusing to go back.”

Ouch. That couldn’t be easy to swallow for a man who liked to be in control of everything. “Don’t worry about it putting me out. It’s just as easy to cook for three as two. You just enjoy your visit together, for however long it lasts. If you two want to eat alone, I can take my portion to my place and eat there.” In fact, it might be better all the way around if she did.