That was a mistake.
Those pains sharpened and cried out. Loudly.
He fell back to the bed.
Dare he call for assistance? Who would come? Katherine?
Should he chance it?
As this was one of the recovery rooms in his clinic, chances were good that he was among friends. Perhaps Katie waited downstairs for him to rouse.
He blinked. Though the pain was great, he lived. But who had patched him up? The dentist with a doctor complex? Or had they gone to Victor for the ever stoic Dr. Brown?
He prayed the latter.
Unable to examine his wounds for the manner of care they had been given, he was uncertain.
Maybe he should try once more to sit up.
Inching his arms toward midback didn’t prove so difficult. Then he pressed his hands into the softer surface beneath himself.
His arms shook and faltered.
He could not hold the position.
As he released his muscles, his elbow shot out and knocked the side table. Something fell, shattering on the floor.
Whether he wished it or not, whoever was downstairs would know he had wakened.
He settled himself. Now all there was to do was wait.
Sure enough, footfalls on the stairs soon followed. The stairs squeaked. Those steps were heavier than a woman’s. Not Katherine.
His mood dipped. How he wanted to see his beloved wife! For her to know that he was well. For him to know that she was, too.
The door opened a crack. Did someone peer in?
Wyatt glared at the opening; still he could not make anything out in this dimness.
“Who is there?” Wyatt ground out, teeth clenched from frustration as much as pain.
The door swung wider.
“Dr. Brown.” The man entered the room, eyes scanning Wyatt’s figure. “How are you?”
Wyatt squinted at the silhouette. “Is that you, Stephen?”
As the physician moved closer, his features cleared.
Wyatt grimaced. “Is this more of your handiwork?”
Brown crossed the room and opened the curtains. Light flooded the room.
Wyatt saw his pseudo-friend’s face without hindrance. “That’s better. Thanks.”
Brown grabbed the back of a chair and pulled it closer to the head of the bed before sitting. “You’ve been through it, Sullivan.”
Wyatt held his gaze. “Tell me.”
Stephen Brown crossed his arms. “Where do I start? Contusions, abrasions, bruised ribs, probably strained muscles. And shotgun blast to the leg.”
Widening his eyes, Wyatt breathed heavier as he lifted his head. Could he see the injury from here? “Shotgun?”
Brown nodded. “Left leg. I removed the pellets, of course, and cleaned up the mess. Mind telling me what you remember?”
He would never be able to see his leg from this angle. Wyatt dropped his head to the pillow as he examined the ceiling. His breath released slower. “I can tell you what I know. I was headed back to town after my last home visit.”
Searching, he tried to put the pieces of random strands of memory together in some logical way.
“And?”
“I heard the shotgun fire. It spooked my horse. Then he freaked out. Threw me, kicked me, not sure what else.”
Brown put a hand to his chin. “I don’t think you’ll be walking for some time.”
“You don’t know me.” Wyatt smiled, gaze still on the boards that made up the ceiling.
“But I do know medicine.”
Wyatt nodded. That was true. Brown had always been an excellent physician. What he lacked in bedside manner, he made up for in his ability to diagnose.
“Come now, Sullivan. You can’t be too proud to use a crutch, can you?”
Wyatt grimaced. A crutch. He was not in favor of it. But could he escape the reality of it? Truth was, he should be thankful to be alive. He very well could have bled out on the trail.
“How’d I get here?”
“Seems a man found you out there—brought you back. That’s what I know. I wasn’t here. They sent for me after he was gone.” Brown quirked a brow. “Your wife bandaged your wound and stopped the bleeding until I could get here.”
Katherine? Working on his wound? That didn’t seem likely. “Truly? My wife?”
“That’s my understanding.” Brown shrugged. “She was adamant to assist in surgery, but I refused.”
Wyatt nodded. That was best. No need to have her going squeamish during the procedure. Or even fainting. “Where is she?”
“Somewhere in town, I figure. I’ll send for her.” He stood. “Promised her I would do so as soon as you were awake.”
Good old Stephen. Ever the vigilant doctor. But the man had utilized his skills on Wyatt and he would be all the better for it. He couldn’t imagine what kind of hack job that dentist would have done.
“You’re a good man, Stephen.” Wyatt met his gaze. “And an excellent physician. Thank you.”
Brown offered him a half-smile. “You’d do the same for me.”
Not much for sentiment. Wyatt expected no less.
With that, Brown moved to the door and stepped out. Wyatt was left with his thoughts. And his ever-growing eagerness to see Katherine.
Chapter 2
Christmas Secrets
Katherine rushed into the clinic, eyes darting, trying to find any sign of life.
Dr. Brown sat at Wyatt’s desk.
“Is it true?” She leaned over the desk. Papers shook under her hands. Was she trembling?
Dr. Brown stared, mouth agape.
Why wouldn’t he answer? “Is Wyatt awake?”
“Y-yes, ma’am. He is.” Dr. Brown rose. He straightened his jacket and moved toward the stairs.
He needn’t bother. She turned and shot off. Nearly halfway to the stairs, Dr. Brown cleared his throat.
“A moment first, please,” he called. His voice did not invite discussion.
Loathed to pause, she halted, though everything in her cried out for her to continue.
She took in a breath before she turned. This had best be important.
His gaze caught hers, steely eyes pinning her. “There is something we should discuss.”
* * *
The sweetest voice whispered over Wyatt. Could it be? Katie?
Had he fallen into sleep once more?
The scent of lilacs came over him, drawing him to her. He breathed in the aroma now associated only with his wife. His lips curved upward. No dream could keep him.
He opened his eyes. And there, sitting on the edge of his bed, was his wife.
Tears filled her eyes.
Had she been crying or were these fresh?
“Wyatt!” She fell onto his chest.
He choked on his breath at the pain, but let no sound escape. He lifted his lame hands and pressed them to her shoulders. “Yes, my love, I’m all right.”
She pulled back only enough to look into his eyes. “I thought…when I saw you in the back of that cart…I was so afraid that you…” Sobs overtook her and she nuzzled her head into his neck.
“God had me in His care the entire time,” he spoke into her hair. “And we know we can trust Him.”
She nodded. But the moisture wetting his collar contradicted her belief. Or were they only the release of her fears?
Leaning up once more, she laid her hand on the side of his face. “What would I do if I lost you?”
Her eyes filled again. She bit at her lip.
Did she need a response? The brief seconds ticked by, adding to one another. As he pushed forth words, she spoke. “I would be undone.”
He gripped her forearms. She anchored him more than she knew. “Thankfully, we don’t have to find out.”
Her eyes, reddened from her emotion, continued to drink him in.
He longed to wipe at the tears, but his limited strength would not permit him to lift his arms so high.
“Are you…?” As the words escaped, she
thinned her lips. Did she hold back other concerns? What kinds of reassurances did she need? What could he offer?
“Yes, I am well. I have some bruises and cuts. My leg is the worst of it. But I will heal.” He stroked her arms with his thumbs as he continued to hold her there.
She sniffled and nodded.
“Now, let us talk of it no more. I want to hear how you are. And the baby.” He threaded a hand between them, resting it on her swollen abdomen.
She pressed her hands over his. “All is well.”
There was hesitancy in her voice. Was she hiding something? Would she speak of it?
“But…?” he offered.
Peering down at him, she held his gaze and then looked away. “It is nothing.”
Nothing? What was nothing?
She stood and walked to the window.
Why did she have to do that? Move away from him when he could not follow?
“It’s not nothing.” His voice was firm. He pushed against the mattress, lifting his upper body. The same pains slammed him back. Fighting the urge to swear, he calmed his breathing. “Something is bothering you.”
She looked at the floor. Why would she not share what burdened her so?
“Katie?”
Silence.
Gritting teeth, he pressed into the bed again until he reclined. His concern gave him added strength.
“Katie…” he warned, his voice no longer as soft as he wished it to be.
She glanced at him. “I don’t wish to upset you. Haven’t you been through enough?”
Not want to what? What exactly would be so bothersome? “This is upsetting me.”
She dropped her hands to her sides and pushed out a breath. Was she now resigned? “All right.”
His brows furrowed, but he waited.
“The cart that carried you into town…well, it came in rather…quickly.”
Where was this going?
“Susie and I were in the middle of the street.”
Dear God, no. His chest tightened.
“It nearly ran us over.”
Nearly?
She crossed back toward him. “We’re fine. Everyone is fine. I’m fine. Susie is fine. The baby is fine. But—”
“Are you certain?” he challenged.
“Yes.” She put hands to her abdomen as if in defense. “I felt the baby move since then. Several times.”
The fist closed around his heart did not let up.
“And Susie is unharmed,” she continued. “Maybe a little upset, but there is not a scratch on her.”
He closed his eyes and dropped his head back. Nearly run over by a horse and cart. And he hadn’t been there. What would he have done? Could his heart take so much?
Katie sat on the bed’s edge, taking one of his hands in hers.
Wyatt gripped it, bringing his other hand around to sandwich her more delicate one.
“All is well.” She leaned forward. “As you said—God was looking out for us.” A slow smile crept onto her features.
Trusting God with his family was much harder than asking her to trust his life into the hands of their Heavenly Father. Perhaps a lesson he need delve into deeper.
He squeezed her hand and looked for relief to fill her features. It did not. Was there something else? “What do you hold back?”
She chewed at her lower lip. “I’m uncertain about what Dr. Brown said.” Her eyes became serious again, and her smile fell.
“What do you mean?” What could Stephen have said that would bother her? Did she not like the idea of Wyatt relying on a crutch? It would be an adjustment for them all.
“About the delivery.”
“What?” Why would Stephen be speaking with her about their baby’s delivery?
Katie’s eyes clouded. Was she trying to hold back again? Did she think she shared something she shouldn’t have? That she burdened him?
He forced his features to remain neutral. “Dr. Brown should not be telling you things that are kept from me. Especially where our baby is concerned.”
She drew in a breath. “He said that he would be delivering our baby.”
Stephen? Delivering Wyatt’s baby? Why would he presume so? Did he think Wyatt incapable? Just because of some leg wound? Why wouldn’t Wyatt be able to stand for the delivery come that time? Or was it more than that?
Wyatt took in a deep breath. He best not let Katie see how it disturbed him. “Do not worry so with Brown’s words. This is only a misunderstanding. I will deliver our baby. No one else.”
She let out a burst of air. “That makes me feel so much better.” Falling forward again, she embraced her husband.
And he, again, held back any sign of the pain that shot through him. But of this he was determined: He would be the one delivering his child. And he would have a conversation with Stephen Brown about overstepping.
What could the man be thinking?
* * *
Christmas approached. It would not wait. Not for her. Not for Wyatt to recover. Not for anything.
And so, Katherine found herself back in the town square, approving decorations and checking things off her mental list.
She had left Wyatt at home. Would he be well enough to care for himself? He’d made steady improvement this past week. For which she was thankful.
His successes had been nothing short of amazing. It seemed as if he was determined to outdo Dr. Brown’s assessment of his recovery time. Yet it had kept her indoors, tending to him, much of these last few days.
Not that she minded. She loved spending this time with him. But she missed getting ample fresh air and stretching her legs.
Still, she worried. Would he overdo it without her there to pace him?
“Well?”
Katherine jerked her attention in the direction of the voice.
Mary stood on the balcony of the boarding house, staging decorations. How long had she been holding the wreath up for Katherine’s approval?
“I think it needs to be a couple of inches to the right.”
Mary obliged her, moving the green fir circlet as directed.
“Perfect!” What would Katherine do without Mary? She had been irreplaceable during the planning and decorating. How fortuitous that Mary’s youngest joined his sister in school. The only toddler underfoot had been Susie, but today she was home with Wyatt.
Another layer to Katherine’s anxiety. What if the little girl proved too much for Wyatt?
“I think that’s it up here,” Mary called.
Katherine nodded, forcing her focus to stay on the present as she waved her friend’s descent from the second-floor walkway. “Come on down.”
A growl rumbled in Katherine’s stomach. Food would become a necessity in short order.
Mary came up alongside her. “Are we almost finished here?”
Katherine’s lips widened into a smile. Mary apparently had similar thoughts about lunch. “Shall we see what Mrs. Abby has cooking?”
“I thought you’d never ask!” Mary leaned against Katherine, feigning weakness.
Katherine pushed at her. “Let’s go.”
Turning toward the café just down the short stretch of boardwalk, Katherine’s thoughts shifted. The sheriff had spoken with her this morning, but she was none too pleased with what he had to say.
No hope.
They gave up the manhunt for the shooter. What else could they do? There wasn’t even a description. The man who brought Wyatt in had been found and questioned. He hadn’t seen the culprit either.
So, it would remain a mystery.
Unless…
She shuddered. Unless he or she strikes again.
“You all right?” Mary’s gentle voice interrupted.
Katherine shook her head. “Just thinking.”
“That’s never good.”
Shooting a look at Mary, Katherine caught the barely contained smile. She bumped her sister-in-law with her shoulder.
Soon enough, they approached the café. The smell of pot roast waft
ed from the open doors. Katherine took it in.
Her mouth watered.
Grabbing for her arm, Mary prodded her onward. “I can already taste it!”
It took only moments to get seated at their favorite table by one of the café’s windows. From this vantage point, they could watch the goings on in the center of Cripple Creek.
Mrs. Abby stopped by shortly thereafter. She filled their glasses with water. “What’ll ya have?”
She had not been quite as cordial with Katherine as she was when Katherine courted Reverend Timothy Johnson. He had always been a favorite of Mrs. Abby’s. Still, Katherine was relieved she could once again patronize this establishment without becoming the object of scorn.
“Two pot roast plates, please.” Mary smiled at the older woman.
“It’ll be out soon, ladies.” Mrs. Abby gave each of them a curt nod.
Then again, maybe Katherine did have to endure the simple pleasantries kept…well, simple and to the point.
A voice bellowed from the entrance.
Mr. Yerby came in with Mr. Hammond.
The banker was boisterous as ever. “Yerby, can you imagine? A train! Coming right here to Cripple Creek!”
They took the only table available, next to Katherine and Mary.
Train? Katherine mouthed to Mary.
“How do ya do, Mrs. Sullivan, Mrs. Matthews?” Mr. Yerby paused next to his seat.
Mr. Hammond did the same.
“We are well.” Katherine offered the General Store owner a smile. And nodded toward Mr. Hammond.
“How is Doc?” Hammond rumbled. “I do hope he’ll be back in the clinic soon.”
Katherine’s smile wavered. When would Wyatt be able to return to the work he loved so much? “He is home, resting. I think he is more eager than you to take up his practice again.”
Hammond nodded.
Mr. Yerby looked at the women with that twinkle in his eye. “What brings you to town?”
“We are seeing to the town’s Christmas preparations.” Mary spoke up. “Katherine is wearing many hats, as usual.”
“Looks mighty fine. I can’t remember when I saw the boarding house so festive.” Mr. Yerby winked.
“Perhaps Mrs. Sullivan should see to the town’s upcoming preparations.” The banker elbowed Mr. Yerby. “This place could handle some better upkeep.”
Christmas In Cripple Creek (Hope In Cripple Creek Book 2) Page 2
