The Prairie Doctor's Bride

by Kathryn Albright

  “I wish I had known. I would have fetched her.”

  He shook his head. “No. You were the best thing for Fiona. You are what she needed.”

  His words made her glow on the inside. “I’m glad,” she whispered. She’d done a good turn. She’d been useful. That meant a lot to her. Wouldn’t Tommy be excited to hear the news!

  The doc slipped his coat on and then collected his hat from the shelf near the door. “It was fortunate for her that you came by. Why did you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Oh, that! Seems like a long time ago now. Clear on the other side of a life coming into the world!” She knew she was rambling a bit. Maybe a little giddy with all she’d seen and done. “I needed to see Mr. Blackwell about Berta’s harness. I came looking for him. Guess I’ll let it go for another week or so. He won’t be wanting to do any work for a while. Not with a new baby.”

  He waited at the door. “Walk with me, won’t you? We will inform Mrs. White and then I have something for you at my office.”

  “For me?” she asked, to be sure he hadn’t misspoken.

  “Well, actually, it is for Tommy.”

  “All right, then.”

  He held the door open for her, making her feel just like a princess. She knew it didn’t mean anything. He probably did that for all women. But it had been a long time since anyone held a door for her and it was real special.

  But then, as she passed by, he tugged her shawl up closer around her neck, brushing the skin on her neck. “The evening has a chill to it,” he said.

  Her heart skipped a beat. It was like lightning sizzled beneath his touch.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He was in shock. That was all there was to it. With no training, no preparation other than having had a baby herself, Sylvia had known instinctively what to do for Mrs. Blackwell.

  Beside him walked the best assistant he’d come across. And, surprisingly, after a Sunday afternoon of games at her house, someone he considered a friend.

  Two weeks ago, he would have scoffed at the idea. The difference in their social standing would have made friendship unlikely, if not impossible. Most people wouldn’t look beyond the fact that Sylvia was a poor, unwed mother. They might have even considered her dangerous, since one of his first meetings with her involved her waving a firearm. To that, Nelson now had to add that she was intelligent, hardworking, kind and even fun.

  They stopped at the Whites’ home and he informed both Teddy and Hannah of the changes at the Blackwells’. That done, he and Sylvia continued to his office. He left her outside while he retrieved the crutches that he’d had Jackson make for Tommy. He carried them down his front steps and handed them to her.

  “I’d hoped to get these to you sooner. However, my mother arrived and I couldn’t get away.”

  Her eyes grew big as she turned one over in her hands. “It’s mighty nice of you, but I can’t accept these.”

  He’d been afraid of this. “Why not?”

  “I can’t pay for them.”

  “I’m not asking you to. They are a loan. When Tommy is done with them, you must bring them back to me. There will be other children who will need crutches in the future.”

  “Well...”

  “Sylvia. He’ll go farther using these. One day, he’ll realize he doesn’t need them anymore and then you can bring them back. Now, where is your wagon? At the livery?” He started that way.

  She hurried to keep up with him. “In case you forgot, he’s my son. I’m the one who decides things for him!”

  “I’m his doctor. That trumps.”

  He knew his strides were too long for her, but the day had been an eye-opener for him in more ways than one. What he thought he knew about her had been challenged time and again since their first meeting. She surprised him. Over and over.

  Besides being weary of her stubbornness just now, he had also been in the mercantile with his mother and witnessed her embarrassment. He was angry at himself for not saying something, for not standing up for her, but he’d fully expected her to stand up for herself the way she always did with him. Instead, she had let Mrs. Gallagher cow her. After seeing that and then to be confronted with her efficiency and calmness as she took charge at Mrs. Blackwell’s delivery of her baby—well, the whole of her simply equaled more than any of the parts taken separately. People had misjudged her.

  He cared about her. And he didn’t like others belittling or judging her. She deserved a chance at life that wasn’t just about existing. She was smart and full of common sense. He didn’t want others brushing her off as insignificant. He especially didn’t want her to believe that about herself. She was so much more.

  “All right! All right! Have it your way!” came her breathless cry behind him.

  He stopped and turned around. Twenty feet away, Sylvia had doubled over, clutching her side as she laughed. “Wait! Wait! I got a hitch in my git-along. I know you mean well, but you sure have an irritating way of showing it.”

  She looked funny bent over like that, and besides that, her laughter was contagious. When she caught her breath and straightened, her face was flushed and her eyes sparkled. He struggled to hold in a smile. Did she have any idea how vibrant she looked at that moment?

  “It’s right there.” She pointed to her dilapidated wagon in front of the smithy.

  He settled the crutches into the back next to her other goods.

  “Where is Tommy?”

  “He’s staying with my neighbor.”

  “Then how about having supper with me? It’s the least I can do after all your help with Mrs. Blackwell. You could meet my mother.”

  The joy left her eyes, as well as the sparkle. “That ain’t such a good idea. It’s best that I get back home.”

  He grabbed his hat from his head. He really wanted her to stay. She deserved a moment of rest. A moment where someone did something for her for a change. “Sylvia—just for a short while.”

  She cocked her head, a furrow between her brows. “You shouldn’t call me that. Not here on the street.”

  After all they had been through together, the fact that she challenged his desire to use her given name struck him as ludicrous. “After being kidnapped, isn’t a first-name basis what comes next? I’m sure there is an etiquette book on the matter.”

  “Now you’re just teasing me.” She let out a huff. “Guess you have a point there with the kidnapping and all, but...” She looked down at the dirt. “And I don’t mind so much. But—it ain’t right. It ain’t proper. People would think...” Her voice trailed off.

  He stepped closer. “People would think what?”

  “It just ain’t a good idea is all.”

  “Look, Sylvia.” He raised her chin with his fingertips and stared into brown eyes so dark and stormy and pretty that they took his breath away. “I happen to care about you and what happens to you and your son. You are letting a fraction of the people of this town dictate your life and the others you close out and don’t let in. If they knew you like I do...”

  She puffed up like an angry hen. “How do you know anything about me? You haven’t been here long enough to know what it’s like to have people look at you like you don’t count.”

  He wanted to hold her. His fingers itched to draw her to him and hold her until all the fight and all the pain drained out of her. “Let me help you. You are letting them have too much power over you. I don’t like to see you hurting!”

  She jerked from his touch. “Then leave me be about it! Words hurt!” She glared at him, her fingers curled into fists.

  “I know they do. Even lack of words hurt and that’s something I’ve had to live with a good deal of my life.”

  “Then can’t you see? I don’t want people saying things about you that ain’t true.”

  He didn’t care about himself. He was worried about her. “Me? That’s n
ot going to happen.” He frowned. “You don’t mention yourself.”

  She lowered her gaze to the ground. “Folks already got that part set.”

  He didn’t like hearing her put herself down. “Mrs. Blackwell didn’t make you feel that way.”

  “She’s new in town and don’t know...”

  He’d had enough. It was a simple thing. He’d had dinner with Miss O’Rourke without trouble. It would be the same with Sylvia. If she just pushed back a little...gently...the whole town would come to embrace her. “Come to the restaurant. Take the first step. I’ll be with you.”

  She stared at him and for a moment her face filled with longing. “I’d surely like to have a meal at a fine restaurant. It’d be something.” She looked down at her hands, her cheeks flushing. “More’n that, it’d be something going in there with you. I’d be proud to be on your arm.”

  Her soft admission stirred something deep inside him. “I’d be honored to have you accompany me.” Did that mean yes? Was she wavering?

  She let out a sigh and then climbed into the wagon.

  “Sylvia? What are you doing?” He moved closer.

  “Thank you for inviting me. Like I said, it’d be something.”

  He frowned and covered her hand that rested on the brake lever with his own. He didn’t want her to go. Not yet. Not like this.

  “You gotta understand how things are. I don’t belong here.”

  “You do as much as anyone. You deserve happiness, and help with Tommy, and a kind word from Mrs. Gallagher.”

  She went still. “What do you know about Mrs. Gallagher?”

  “I know it wasn’t right how she spoke to you today.”

  Her eyes widened. “You were there? You saw?”

  “I should have said something. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

  She let out a shuddery breath. “You were there?” she repeated. She untied the reins from the brake lever. Tears pooled in her eyes. “I gotta go. Get up, Berta. Let’s go home.”

  * * *

  Adele had been right when she’d said rain was coming. No sooner had Sylvia collected Tommy than the sky started spitting. A steady drizzle commenced on the ride home and she had to pull the tarp over them at the last. She unhitched the wagon and settled the mule in the shed while outside the weather brooded with its rumbling thunder and darkening sky.

  Why was it, when a body had a good and a bad thing happen, it was always the bad thing that claimed residence inside and blocked out the good? It was just like the dark clouds that blocked out the last of the sun the way Mrs. Gallagher’s hurtful treatment blocked out all the good that had happened with Fiona.

  But nothing could block out what had happened with Nelson. He’d been proud of her! She could see it in his eyes and feel it inside herself. Her heart had near pounded out of her breast. In all her life that had never happened. He made her feel strong, and courageous, and full of hope, as if nothing could keep her down. And he’d done it with just a word, just a glance, just a touch. She had wanted to say yes to his invitation in the worst way.

  She leaned against the wagon, put her forehead in the crook of her arm and gave in to the turmoil happening inside her. The day had been surprising in so many ways. Nelson cared about her. And he had caressed her. His hand had lingered on her neck. Even now her skin tingled as she thought of it.

  A longing welled up inside that she knew she had no right to. Her insides curled in on her as she thought of his handsome face and his strength. It had been a long time since Thomas held her, but she remembered how it felt. To have a man like Nelson care for her the way a man does a woman was beyond any commonsense hope at all. For that feeling to grow into love was too far a leap for a woman such as herself to imagine. She would be content with his friendship, his kindness and nothing more.

  On the roof overhead, the rain pounded harder. Lightning crackled and lit up the sky outside, the bright flash illuminating the yard. Berta stomped and brayed, and the rooster crowed. Sylvia gave Tommy the crutches, threw the tarp over their heads and rushed across the yard to the cabin.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The rain kept on for days.

  The yard turned to a soupy, muddy mess that Sylvia had to traipse across twice a day to see to the animals—her two sheep, Penny the goat and Berta. She was glad that she’d bought extra oats the last time in town, since she wasn’t turning them out to graze. The chickens squawked and flapped their wings frantically whenever she entered the shed, as if she could do something about the weather even though they were the driest of the lot, roosting as they were atop a few high stacks of straw.

  And still the rain came down.

  She played games with Tommy until her eyes crossed. He practiced bearing weight on his injured leg several times a day and walked with the help of his new crutches. Every day he went a little farther, refusing to let go of the crutches, and she began to worry that he’d forget how to walk without them, which was probably a sign she was worrying too much and needed a heavy dose of sunshine.

  She set out buckets and pans to catch the muddy drops of rain that tunneled through the sod roof. Sturdy beams supported the sod overhead, but even so, this was the third roof that she’d had to put over the beams. Once the weather cleared, this one would require patching. She only hoped the roof would hold and not come crashing down in their sleep.

  They were making pancakes for supper on the fourth day of rain when Tommy yelled.

  “Ma! Look!”

  A pool of water moved over the threshold and spread ominously toward them both, flowing into the dips in the dirt floor.

  “Get away from the door!” she cried out, afraid he’d slip and hurt his leg further.

  Fear sprang into his eyes. She’d have to calm her voice so as not to scare him. Quickly, she rolled up the braided rag rug and set it on her bed so it wouldn’t get soaked.

  “We can’t stay any longer. We gotta get out of here. Get your coat on.” She shrugged into Thomas’s long leather one. She’d given up wearing his boots two days ago when the mud had sucked them off her feet while she’d crossed the yard. She grabbed her money sock and stuffed it in her pocket.

  The water kept coming. It flowed toward the hearth at the same time that she realized the fire there still burned. She grabbed a pan half-filled with muddy water from a leak in the roof and doused the fire. She picked up Tommy and set him on the table. “Ready? Climb on my back and hold on tight. Don’t let go of your crutches.”

  Once she had a solid hold of him, she opened the door and waded across the yard toward the shed. Tommy clambered up into the wagon while she hitched up Berta. She set a board from the wagon bed to the ground and led the goat up it without any trouble and handed the lead line to Tommy. The sheep were another matter. Try as she might, the sheep balked and jumped off the ramp to the ground each time. They were too big for her to pick up and set in the wagon, so after several attempts, she gave up. She gave them both a huge scoop of feed.

  “What are you doin’, Ma?” Tommy asked.

  “They’ll have to be on their own for a few days, until we can come back.”

  “Will they be all right? What about the coyotes?”

  “They won’t be worrying about finding food.” She searched the shed one last time before climbing up to the wagon seat. “Hang on tight now.”

  She snapped the reins and drove Berta out into the storm.

  The DuBois farm was farther back from the river and usually weathered a downpour better than her place. The road was treacherous, with the mud sucking at the wagon wheels. As she approached the creek, her heart sank in her chest. The dip that separated their two homesteads had turned into a raging river. She stopped the wagon and stared at the expanse of water that separated her from the road on the far side.

  The wagon shifted, sliding sideways.

  “Hold on!” She grabbed her son, steady
ing him.

  Again, the wagon shifted and then started to settle. They couldn’t stay here! They’d slide into the water and be stuck for good!

  Handing the reins to Tommy, she climbed down and grabbed Berta by the bridle, tugging her around, forcing her to struggle out of the soft ground. Mud squeezed through the holes in her boots and inside between her toes. She only hoped no snake came calling. That’d be more than she could handle.

  Finally, she got everything turned and climbed back into the wagon. What to do? The only way now to higher ground was to get across to the other side of the river and away from the buffalo wallows. She reined Berta toward the ferry crossing.

  When she arrived, she said a prayer of thanks that the ferry was on her side of the river. Then she stared in shock at the rope that spanned across to the other side. Usually, it hung four feet above the water’s surface. Now it dipped with but a few inches at most between it and the river. Her heart hammered inside. It would be dangerous to cross...but more dangerous to stay on this side.

  She climbed down and led Berta carefully onto the wooden ferry. The large raft heaved and shuddered with the rush of the river. Was she a fool to try this? Or more a fool not to? Berta brayed and she jerked her head up, her eyes large and frightened.

  “There, there, girl. We’ll make it. Just you stay calm.”

  She called over the mule’s head to Tommy. “Lie down in the bed. Hang on to that goat and the wagon too, tight as you can.”

  She worked the loop of the tether line over the stump to free the raft, a difficult thing with the water tugging and pulling at the ferry every second. It was a wonder that the ferry hadn’t broken loose and traveled downriver on its own, before this.

  Immediately on being freed, the current ripped the ferry away from the shore. She gripped the line hard, struggling against the pull of the current as they neared the center of the river. The water raced faster here than near the shore. Debris washed from the banks and rushed along helter-skelter in the water, coming up against the ferry, pushing and shoving it.