Well, maybe not everything. Yes, she believed the majority of bloodshed could be avoided if people would handle their disagreements in a civilized, intelligent manner, yet she realized such a view was rather utopian. The arguments Matthew Hanger had made earlier today held truth. As long as evil existed in the world, good men would be called to fight it. And afterward, doctors like her would be left to mend the brokenness.
Just because something palpable had passed between her and Mr. Hanger when her hand connected with his didn’t mean new doors were opening. Attraction was simply a physiological response, an innate feminine recognition of virility in the male of the species. Nothing more. She could have the same response to any number of men.
Only she hadn’t. Which meant there was something unique about Matthew Hanger that drew her to him.
Josephine set the disquieting observation aside and turned her attention to eliciting another laugh from the baby in her arms.
Matthew Hanger and his virility would be gone in a few days. She could ignore his effect on her until then.
CHAPTER
FIVE
Miss Josephine hadn’t followed through on her threat to make him eat milk toast. She’d fed him roast beef, vegetables, and a sweetened corn bread that could have been dessert had she not thrown in a piece of vanilla cake too. She’d blamed Mrs. Carrington for the excess and insisted that had it been up to her, he would have received bread and water. Dalton’s daughter had laughed at that and made some quip about that being true because it was the only meal Miss Josephine knew how to make. Apparently, the doctor wasn’t much of a cook. Handled children pretty well, though.
Mrs. Carrington had delivered the meal to the infirmary herself in order to thank him and his men personally while Josephine lingered outside the door, playing with the woman’s son. The lady doc had looked good with the babe on her hip. The kid seemed to soften her. The headstrong physician battling for respect faded behind the affectionate woman doting on a little boy who obviously adored her. Matt found it hard to concentrate on what Mrs. Carrington was saying, his gaze constantly wandering to the hall. Thankfully, Wallace had roused and carried the conversation for him, per usual.
Once Mrs. Carrington and her son departed, Josephine took her turn in the infirmary.
“How are you feeling?” She completely bypassed Matt and went straight to Wallace’s bedside.
The kid grinned that charmer’s grin of his—the one that never failed to gain an answering smile from whichever woman he aimed it at. “Like I have a hole in my shoulder.”
And there it was—the answering smile. Josephine’s mouth curved upward, and Matt’s grip on his dinner plate tightened so much, the ceramic threatened to crack. Her reaction shouldn’t bother him. All women reacted to Wallace that way. His good looks. His sense of humor. His affable personality. It shouldn’t bother Matt.
But it did.
“After you eat, I’ll bring you something for the pain. It’ll help you sleep too.” She tugged down the sheet to examine the skin around Wallace’s bandage.
Matt forced himself to let go of the plate before he cracked it for real, and balanced it on his knees.
“I already slept half the day away, Doc. I could stand to be awake for a while.”
She took his wrist and fit her fingers to the edge to find his pulse, then felt his head with the back of her hand. “I’ll prepare a willow bark powder for you and set it on the table with a glass of water. You can stay awake as long as you like, but when the pain starts to wear on you, I want you to take the medicine and get some sleep.” She helped him sit up and propped several pillows behind his back. She moved the tray that carried his soup from the floor where Mrs. Carrington had left it to the bed to bridge his lap.
After spreading a large cloth napkin over Wallace’s torso, she finally turned her attention to Matt. Unfortunately, the solicitous smile bestowed on her patient stiffened into stern lines.
“You’re in command, Captain.” Her gaze captured his, making it clear that, in truth, he was second in command. “If he starts to tire, give him the powder whether he wants to take it or not. Pull rank if you have to.”
“Understood.” He held her gaze, and something passed between them—an undercurrent of awareness and growing respect. Maybe even cautious trust. She jerked her gaze away before he could analyze it further, but his gut didn’t need his head to comprehend all the ins and outs.
Josephine Burkett intrigued him. Plain and simple. Intrigued him and appealed to him in a way no woman had in a long, long time. Crossing paths and wits with her over the next few days would be a nice change from guarding cattle and hunting rustlers. But he’d make sure nothing more came of it. He’d already lost one family. He wouldn’t risk that kind of devastation a second time. The Horsemen were all the family he needed. No matter how much the lady doc appealed to him, when Wallace was well enough to travel, she’d be nothing more than a pleasant memory to keep him company on long nights in the saddle.
“I’ll be back with the powder after you’ve had a chance to eat. I’ll clear the dishes away then and will return to check on you one final time before I retire for the night.” She spoke to Wallace, but Matt caught an occasional side glance darting his way. “Mrs. Carrington will send word to my night nurse, Alice Gaither, so you will probably see an older lady roaming the halls later this evening. She’s more of a chaperone than an actual nurse,” she explained, another glance darting Matt’s way, “but she can bring you water, food, or a clean chamber pot should you need it. She can also fetch me if your pain worsens or if signs of a fever appear.”
Fetch her? Matt straightened in his chair. “Where will you be?”
She turned his way, a smile—this time for him—twitching the corners of her lips. “Upstairs. I never leave the premises when I have patients in the infirmary, but the ladies of Purgatory Springs insist I have a night nurse in the clinic whenever those patients are of the male variety. To protect my reputation. Of course, any man ill enough to require an overnight stay poses no actual threat to my virtue, but perception can sometimes carry more weight than reality.”
“Especially if there is a second man who is not ill in your infirmary.” Matt frowned. He hadn’t considered the consequences to her when he’d insisted on being allowed to stay with Wallace.
She nodded. “Precisely.” She stepped away from the bed and crossed to the doorway. Then she turned back to her patient. “I’ll leave the two of you to enjoy your meal. If you need assistance with the soup, just ring the bell.” She pointed to the small handbell on the back corner of the bedside table. “Sometimes it’s difficult to navigate everyday tasks when you’re not accustomed to using your non-dominant hand. There’s no shame in asking for help.”
Wallace winked at her. “I’m sure I’ll manage, though the thought of having a woman as lovely as yourself feeding me does tempt me to act the invalid.”
Matt rolled his eyes.
“Well, I’m here if you need me.”
Wallace grinned. “Thanks, Doc.”
Her gaze briefly passed over Matt as she crossed to the door, but she said nothing. Just made her exit and left Matt feeling . . . neglected. Which was ridiculous. He was perfectly healthy. In no need of medical care or nursing. Yet every time she’d touched Wallace or smiled at him or offered her help, it made Matt’s hide itch as if someone had wrapped him in a flea-infested blanket.
Which was why he secretly enjoyed watching the kid struggle to keep soup in his spoon as he attempted to eat. Guilt kicked in after a moment, though, and Matt set his half-finished plate on the table and leaned forward in his chair.
“Want some help?”
Wallace shook his head. “No, thanks, Captain. I’ll get it. Just need a couple practice runs.”
“All right.”
Matt sat back and made a show of tucking into his own food. Heaven knew he wouldn’t want his men watching him make a muck of feeding himself. But if the kid didn’t get the hang of things soon, Ma
tt would have to find a way to intervene without dashing his pride. Wallace needed nourishment to regain his strength, and Matt would see he got it, one way or another.
After struggling through about half his bowl of soup, Wallace set the spoon aside and leaned back against the wall at his back. Tired or frustrated? Maybe both.
Matt cut a slice of beef from his own plate, stabbed it with his fork, and held it out to his former trumpeter. “Want something to sink your teeth into?” With the food already speared, all the kid had to do was stick it in his mouth.
Wallace’s eyes brightened. “Sure.” He took the fork with his left hand and herded the roast squarely between his teeth. “Mmm. That’s good.” He leaned forward a bit and scanned the rest of Matt’s plate. “Don’t suppose you could spare some of that corn bread?”
Matt handed over a chunk, putting it directly in Wallace’s hand. While his friend chewed, Matt took another gander at the soup bowl. It wasn’t so much the soup that was the problem. It was transferring the liquid with an unsteady spoon that created the difficulty. Maybe instead of changing the food, he should change the transport.
Matt took the coffee cup Dalton’s daughter had delivered along with his plate of beef, and drained the contents in a long gulping swallow. His gullet complained at the deluge of hot joe, but he ignored the discomfort. “Here,” he said as he reached for the bowl on the tray. “Let me see that soup.”
“You want some?” Wallace asked, his forehead crinkling. “It’s tasty, but it can’t compare to that beef.”
Matt didn’t answer. Just took the bowl in one hand, his coffee cup in the other, and poured the soup into the handled mug. Not all of the liquid would fit, so Matt put the rim of the bowl to his mouth and drank the excess broth. “Not bad.” Then he plopped the mug on the tray and angled the handle to the left. “Try it this way.”
Wallace lifted the cup to his lips, then set it down with a satisfied thump after consuming a goodly portion. “This is why you’re the one who strategizes all our missions, Captain.” He grinned. “No problem exists that Matthew Hanger can’t outthink.”
Matt ducked away from the praise. There were plenty of problems he couldn’t solve. Like losing his parents, avoiding a senseless massacre, or even stopping himself from being attracted to a lady doctor who was far too fine for the likes of him. “It’s just soup.”
“It’s ingenious, is what it is.”
Matt jerked his head toward the doorway where Miss Josephine stood, a paper packet in one hand, a glass of water in the other.
She stepped into the room, her gaze skittering over Matt before landing on the mug in Wallace’s hand. “Such a pragmatic solution, and so obvious, now that I see it in action.” She shook her head, a self-deprecating grin spreading across her face. “Mama’s etiquette rules have served me well over the years, but they’re so ingrained, I never once thought to serve soup with anything other than a bowl and spoon.” Her attention settled over Matt and warmed him like a blanket on a cold night. “I congratulate you, Mr. Hanger. You have singlehandedly changed the course of invalid nutrition in my practice. I’ll be instituting new meal-serving practices forthwith.”
His gaze melded with hers, the oversized vocabulary bouncing off him like harmless pellets, not warranting his notice. He read the appreciation and respect in her eyes, and that communicated the message most important to him at the moment.
“Military men don’t have much use for fancy manners when out on campaign,” he said with a shrug. “But we do like to keep our bellies full and will improvise when necessary.”
“A laudable skill.”
If she kept looking at him like that, he’d never move from this spot. “Comes in handy.”
“The captain has gotten us out of more than one tough spot over the years,” Wallace said, drawing the doctor’s attention back to him. “Of course, the majority of those challenges dealt with threats much more dire than slurping soup, but I’m glad to be the beneficiary of his problem-solving skills no matter the situation.”
Josephine smiled and set down the water glass and medicine packet before lifting the tray from Wallace’s lap. “Recovery from an injury might not feel as dire as facing an enemy in combat, but I assure you, it’s still a battle that must be fought strategically. The more you can do to regain your strength, the better your body will heal. So don’t wait too long before you take this powder. All right?”
Wallace nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.”
She pivoted toward the door and held the tray out to Matt. “I’ll take your dishes if you’re finished with them.”
Matt placed his dinner plate on the tray but held back the cake he hadn’t had a chance to eat yet. “I’ll bring this to the kitchen when I’m finished.”
“Leave it in the dry sink. Alice or I will take care of it later. Alice usually keeps a pot of coffee on the stove. She’s a bit of a night owl. Prefers to stay up reading in the parlor across the way when she’s on duty. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you helped yourself to a cup should you need to stretch your legs during the night.”
Already feeling cramped in the small, hard chair, Matt appreciated the offer. “Thanks. Oh, and thanks for the pillows as well.” He shifted his back against the cushion that softened the hard oak of the chair slats. Another had been propped against the wall for him to use as needed.
“You’re welcome.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I know how long the night can stretch when you’re keeping vigil.”
Of course she did. She’d no doubt kept watch over dozens of patients during her years of doctoring. Yet it was the fact that she’d provided for his comfort despite his overbearing demands to invade her infirmary that revealed her character. She might be opinionated and highfalutin, but she was a nurturer at heart. A woman who thought of others before herself.
“The two of you aren’t whispering secrets about me over there, are you?” Wallace teased.
Josephine glanced over her shoulder. “Just scheming about how best to get that willow bark into you should you prove more stubborn than intelligent.”
“Shoot. That’s easy.” Matt swore he could hear the charm thickening in Wallace’s voice as he stole Josephine’s attention once again. “All you have to do is smile at me when you ask, Dr. Jo. I’d do anything to please a woman as beautiful as you.”
“If that’s true, it’s amazing you’ve lived this long.”
Matt coughed, so shocked by her reply he couldn’t even manage the simple task of breathing properly.
“A man who blindly follows a woman just because she’s beautiful will eventually find himself tumbling over a cliff,” she said. “Better to think for yourself and make decisions based on wisdom and sensible advice.” She strode to the doorway, turned, and gave her parting shot neither smiling nor asking. “Take your medicine.”
Then she left, her shoes clicking a sharp staccato beat on the floorboards.
Matt cast a cautious glance at his friend to judge his reaction. Wallace wasn’t used to having his charm thrown back in his face with such force. Surprisingly enough, he was grinning.
Wallace nodded at Matt. “I knew she liked you better.” His face sobered a bit. “Now you know it too.”
Matt’s gut clenched at the thought, but he steered clear of the tempting trail Wallace’s words opened up. “All I know is that she’s too smart to be taken in by your bunkum. Besides, it doesn’t matter which of us she prefers. As soon as your shoulder heals, we’re leaving Purgatory Springs behind.”
“We don’t have to, Matt.” Wallace met his gaze, no hint of his usual carefree nature in evidence. “As much as I love the Horsemen and the good we’ve been able to achieve these past few years, there’s nothing wrong with hanging up the spurs and carving out a life for yourself that doesn’t involve flying bullets and enemies behind every corner.”
Matt stiffened. “You sayin’ you want out?” What would he do without the Horsemen? He didn’t even know who he was without t
hem, without the work they did.
“Nope.” Wallace shook his head, weariness etching his features as his posture slumped and he slipped a little lower on the wall. “Just saying we can’t do this forever. And when the end comes, I’d much rather go home to a good woman than an empty cabin with nothing but old ghosts to haunt me.”
Matt said nothing. The kid painted a nice picture, but that was all it was—a picture. One built on imagination instead of substance. No woman deserved a life with a man who carried demons in his saddlebags.
CHAPTER
SIX
Mr. Wallace made it through the night with no incident of fever. Josephine had checked on him twice. The first time after midnight, and the second at three o’clock. Both times, Matthew Hanger had awoken the instant she stepped foot in the room.
He had set the chair out in the hallway and stretched out on the hardwood floor with nothing but one of her cushions to pillow his head. It had to be dreadfully uncomfortable, but then, he was a cavalryman, accustomed to sleeping on the ground. Finding him thus had unnerved her, though. Not because he was on the floor, but because the moment she padded on stockinged feet into the infirmary, he jerked to a sitting position with fists clenched and eyes instantly alert. The movement had been so sudden and unexpected, she’d nearly screamed. Thankfully, she contained her shock, only allowing a small gasp to escape and thereby avoiding complete humiliation.
He had jumped to his feet, apologized for frightening her, then immediately started quizzing her about Mr. Wallace’s condition. She conducted a minimal examination, checking for red streaks from the site of the wound, feeling his head for fever, and checking to ensure his breathing was deep and steady. He passed each of her inspections, but she left another dose of willow bark powder on the bedside table anyway and instructed Mr. Hanger to administer it should his friend awaken in pain.
At Love's Command Page 5
