Eleanor spun around and walked away. Molly was the eighth woman to answer her advertisement for an heiress—or was it the ninth? Surely there had to be someone out there who could take over the ranch should—heaven forbid—something happen to her.
Caleb blinked and rubbed his forehead. It was late, almost midnight. Medical books were piled high on his desk. He’d spent the last several hours skimming through the thick tomes searching for information on leukemia.
Magic, curled on the floor in front of the desk, looked up from time to time as if to say, Hey, it’s past my bedtime. Getting no response, the dog laid his head down on crossed paws and watched Caleb with soulful eyes.
Caleb ran his finger down the page. Europeans named it “weisses blut.” White blood. No known cure existed for the disease.
A combination of arsenic trioxide and potassium bicarbonate, called “Fowler’s Solution,” brought red blood count back to normal, but it was only a temporary reprieve. Once treatment stopped, the white blood count soared again. Long-term use of the drug led to arsenic poisoning. In this case the cure, however temporary, really was worse than the disease.
Heart heavy, he turned off the gas lamp. Tomorrow he would send a telegraph to his professor in Boston and ask for the latest research on the disease.
His old mentor often said that God heals but doctors get the credit. Caleb had seen his share of miracles. Every doctor honest enough to admit it had seen miraculous cures. But it was the nonmiracles that puzzled him, when God chose not to intervene. Those were the times that made him question his ability as a doctor and as a man of faith.
Magic padded after him through the waiting room and outside. The cool night air barely penetrated Caleb’s dark mood.
Banjo music drifted down Main from one of the saloons. Raucous laughter rolled out of another. Despite Aunt Bessie’s best efforts, saloon owners refused to stay closed on Sundays and still sold alcohol to youths.
Several drunks staggered along the boardwalk singing a tuneless song. Earlier, gunfire had sent the marshal racing to the far end of town.
A woman Caleb recognized as the barber’s wife waltzed into a saloon and reappeared moments later, dragging her husband out by the ear.
A drunk lay on the boardwalk, snoring soundly and reeking of whiskey.
Caleb wasn’t a drinking man, but at the moment he envied the man his oblivion.
Chapter 25
Donny fed Orbit a fresh garden carrot. Earlier Molly had tied Orbit to the verandah railing so that Donny could talk to him, and the little black horse was good company.
“You like that, eh?”
The horse’s head bobbed up and down. He then poked his nose around looking for more.
“That’s enough for you today.”
Donny ran his hand along the horse’s neck and sighed. The horse’s future was in as much jeopardy as his own. He could still picture his sister and Doc together, the way they laughed and looked at each other. The way his sister fairly danced when she walked.
It scared him. It scared him so much he could hardly breathe. If she married, she would put him away and he would never see her again. He’d rather die than live in an asylum and lose the only family he had left.
But what could he do about it? Stop working with the doctor? He hated the idea of not seeing Doc Fairbanks. He looked forward to their sessions. The doctor made him work hard, but already Donny felt the difference in his arms and shoulders.
Still, he loved Molly more than anything else in the world. He had no choice. He must stop the doctor from coming to the ranch or risk losing her.
Donny rehearsed what to say and how to say it. He didn’t want to hurt the doctor’s feelings or seem ungrateful.
The moment he heard Bertha in the distance, he practiced his speech. It’s not fair to take you away from your other patients. Donny grimaced. Doc Fairbanks would never believe his sudden concern for others.
I’m not doing any more exercises. They hurt too much. No, he had used that too many times in the past and it never worked. The doctor simply shrugged and made him work harder.
Think, think. I can’t continue working with you because . . . because . . .
When Doc’s automobile pulled up in front, Donny almost panicked. Nothing he could think to say seemed right.
Doc Fairbanks jogged up to the verandah. “Sorry I’m late.” He bounded up the steps. “Let’s get to work.”
“I’m not working. I’m done.”
“Done, eh?” Doc Fairbanks petted Orbit. The little horse whinnied and moved his head from side to side. He turned to Donny. “What do you say we go for a drive? I’ll even let you steer.”
Surprised, Donny gaped at him. Expecting an argument, he was caught off guard. Steer? Did he say steer? “Are . . . are you serious?”
Doc Fairbanks studied him with intense eyes and Donny felt like he was under a microscope. “It looks like you could use some sunshine and fresh air.”
Hesitating, Donny’s mind whirled. Was this a trick to get closer to Molly? “I’m crippled.” It was his standard answer for everything.
“You steer with your hands, not your feet. I’ll work the brakes and gas pedal. All you have to do is stay on the road.”
It was an irresistible offer, and though everything inside him shouted no, his nodding head said yes.
Moments later Donny was situated in the driver’s seat, his hand on the steering column. Caleb cranked the motor and leaped into the passenger seat.
“A couple of things,” Caleb shouted over the engine noise. “Don’t oversteer. It’s also common courtesy to assist any horse and buggy you run off the road. Understood?”
“How do I assist anyone if I can’t walk?”
“As long as you can talk, you can assist, and if you can’t assist, offer an apology for the inconvenience you caused.” Doc glanced around to make sure the way was clear. “Just remember, the motor provides the power but the driver—that would be you—provides the brains. Ready?”
“Ready!” Donny’s heart raced with excitement. Mouth dry, he grasped the steering shaft with a shaking hand. Magic barked from the backseat as if to announce he was ready too.
Doc arranged himself so that he could reach the gas pedal. “Here we go!”
The car lurched forward, throwing Donny back against his seat. It was harder to steer than it looked. The car veered either left or right with every bump in the road and it was all Donny could do to stay on the road.
One hand on the dash, the doc stared straight ahead. “I haven’t been so nervous since performing my first surgery.”
Donny brushed the sweat off his forehead with his free arm. “I don’t know what you’re nervous about,” he yelled back. “I’m the one driving.”
Doc laughed. “Hold on,” he shouted. He gave the engine more gas and Bertha picked up speed.
Donny couldn’t remember ever having more fun. “Faster!” he cried. “I want to go faster.”
On the road ahead he spotted Molly on horseback. She moved to the side of the road to let them pass. Both he and the doctor waved as they drove by and her jaw dropped.
Donny laughed. He’d hate to be in the doctor’s shoes when Molly got hold of him. Knowing his sister, she would probably ban him from coming to the ranch.
The thought tickled him to the core. He couldn’t have planned things more perfectly had he tried.
Gripping the reins of her horse, Molly spun her head around to stare at the departing vehicle. She could have sworn—
No, it couldn’t have been. She was seeing things. A desert mirage! Still, it sure did look like Donny was driving.
She kept her gaze focused on the departing vehicle. It suddenly veered off the road and sped across the rough terrain, rocking up and down like a boat in stormy seas. Heart in her throat, Molly watched, not knowing what to do.
The motor buggy barely missed a haying machine but drove straight into a wall of newly mowed hay before stopping. Bales of hay tumbled down, burying the oc
cupants.
“Gid-up!” Urging her horse into a full run, Molly’s pulse raced as fast as Starburst’s flying hooves.
Caleb was already out of the vehicle by the time she arrived and greeted her with a boyish grin. “He’s fine. He’s not hurt.” He lifted a bale from the backseat and tossed it away.
“No thanks to you!” She slid off her horse and rushed to Donny’s side.
Donny sat in the driver’s seat holding Magic and laughing. The little dog licked his face and this made Donny laugh harder.
Thinking her brother in shock, she gently shook him. “Donny, it’s all right.”
“Did you see me, did you see me? I was driving!”
She lifted Magic out of Donny’s arms and set him on the ground. “Yes, yes, I did see but—”
“I was driving,” he shouted again as if she hadn’t heard him the first time. He fingered the dashboard like a mother touching a newborn baby.
She curled her fingers into balls and glared at Caleb’s back.
“Now look what you’ve done.”
He tossed another bale of hay away before turning to face her. “What I’ve done?”
“He’s hysterical,” she sputtered.
“He’s happy.”
“He could have been injured or—”
“But he wasn’t. He oversteered. It’s easy to do. I’ve done it myself. Next time he’ll do better. Won’t you, buddy?”
The warm way he addressed her brother drained away her anger. “There won’t be a next time. It’s . . . it’s too dangerous. Kindly take him back to the ranch. And you steer.”
She had forgotten to stake her horse in her eagerness to get to Donny, and Starburst had wandered a short distance away to where a clump of grass bravely pressed through the dry cracked ground.
Caleb followed her, waiting to resume the argument until they were out of Donny’s earshot. “Would you prefer that he spend the rest of his life confined to a wheelchair? Why don’t you just put him in an institution like an injured war veteran? He’ll be really safe then.”
“I don’t need to put him anywhere. I can keep him safe here on the ranch. If you would stop interfering and stop—” She walked up to Starburst and grabbed her rein. And stop making me believe you can help Donny.
“Stop what?” Caleb asked. “Stop treating him like a real person?”
“Stop thinking you know everything about my brother and me. You know nothing about us. If you did, you wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t what? What wouldn’t I do, Molly?”
You wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Out loud she said, “Just leave us alone.” Tears burned her eyes but she refused to give in to them.
“Molly, don’t.” He pulled her into his arms. “Trust me,” he whispered into her hair. He held her close, stroking her back.
Twisting in his arms, she sought to break free, but he only tightened his hold. “Trust me,” he repeated.
Whether it was his warm embrace or gentle plea she didn’t know, but all at once her resistance drained away. She laid her head in the hollow of his shoulder and clutched the sleeve of his shirt. She trusted him and that was part of the problem. What she didn’t trust were the feelings he stirred inside.
Donny rested his head on the back of the seat, his fingers still wrapped around the steering column. He still couldn’t believe it. He actually steered a horseless carriage. He needed practice. Still . . .
He gazed up at the sky and imagined himself in all sorts of places. The Grand Canyon and the Flagstaff observatory . . . the big cities he’d read about . . . the oceans, both the Pacific and the Atlantic. He’d always wanted to see an ocean.
All too soon the visions in his head popped like soap bubbles. He would never see those places and the sooner he accepted his fate the better.
Brushing straw away from his pants, he glanced around.
Molly’s horse grazed a short distance away but he couldn’t see either her or the doc. Eyes narrowed against the bright sun, he scanned the desert until a movement caught his attention. He’d mistaken Doc for a cactus.
He leaned forward for a better look and his heart stood still. Was that Molly? In the doctor’s arms? Donny wiggled around in the seat and shaded his eyes against the sun. It was Molly all right. No question.
Donny’s chest felt as if someone had tied a rope around him. His throat closed and he gasped for air.
He’d been tricked. The doctor took him driving for one reason and one reason alone: to get closer to Molly. That’s all the doctor cared about. He wanted Molly all to himself.
Well, it wasn’t going to happen. Nothing meant more to Donny than his sister. Not the horseless buggy and not even the Flagstaff observatory. His sister was his world and he had no intention of letting the doctor take her away. Not now, not ever.
He wrapped his hand around the rubber ball and blew the horn as hard as he could.
That night Molly tossed Donny’s nightshirt on the bed. He was obviously still angry with her, but that was no excuse for his childish behavior. Exhausted after a hard day’s work, she was in no mood for games.
“You could at least help by taking off your shirt.” He’d done nothing since arriving back at the ranch but sit in his chair limp as a rag doll.
“I am helping you.”
“No, you’re not. A wooden statue would be more help.” She tried to calm down. Arguing with him never got her anywhere. “I know you’re disappointed because I forbade you to drive again. But it’s for your own good. You could have been hurt.”
Donny folded his arms across his chest. “I didn’t want to steer it. Doc Fairbanks made me.”
“Hmm.” It wasn’t like Donny to place blame on others. “It didn’t look like you protested too much.”
“I don’t want to ride in his old car and I don’t want to work with him anymore.”
She sank down on his bed and leveled her gaze at him. “Donny, he’s helping you. He says you’re making progress.”
“No, I’m not. He just wants you to think that so that he can—”
She quirked a brow. “What, Donny, what does he want me to think?”
“Never mind. Nothing.” He looked away.
She reached for his arm but he pulled back. Too tired to fight him, she stood. “All right, have it your way. Sleep in your clothes. See if I care.”
She left the room and he didn’t try to stop her. She hated leaving him in his chair all night, but she could no longer move him without his cooperation. When he was a child she could lift him in her arms and carry him. Those days were long gone. She stood in the hall hoping he’d call her back, but minutes passed without a single sound coming from his room.
She headed for the stairs when the unmistakable clatter of Caleb’s auto buggy made her heart skip a beat.
Chapter 26
What was Caleb doing here this time of night? She had nothing more to say to him. But now that he was here, he could jolly well deal with Donny!
Fearing the bell would disturb Miss Walker, she hurried to the front door and ripped it open before Caleb had a chance to ring.
“Hello, Molly,” he said. In the dim light he looked serious. His eyes reflected light from the gas lamp and his gaze bored into her like burning coals.
She glared at him. “It’s late and thanks to you my brother won’t let me put him to bed. Now you can deal with him.”
She kept her voice loud enough to be heard over the idling motor car yet not so loud as to disturb the other residents. Miss Walker had been working in her office since supper, and Rosita and Jose had already retired for the night.
His jaw tightened. “We’ll deal with him later. Right now, you and I need to talk.”
“We have nothing left to—”
He stepped forward. With a single swoop he lifted her off her feet, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her down the steps and through the courtyard.
Shock quickly yielded to fury. “Let me go,” she raged. “How dare you!” She pound
ed her fists against his back but he kept moving. “Put me down!”
He dumped her unceremoniously into the back of the carriage. Before she could make her escape, the auto took off, throwing her against the seat.
“Stop!” she ordered. They hit a rut in the road and Molly’s entire body left the seat before bouncing back down. “Do you hear me?”
Caleb ignored her and kept driving, his head outlined by the flickering carriage lights. Overhead stars shimmered in the black velvet sky as if doing some sort of wild dance. A trembling full moon had risen over the mountains, casting a silvery glow on the desert floor.
The car shook and rattled and Molly feared it would split in two. Fumes burned her eyes and the smell of burning rubber filled her nose. “If you don’t stop I’ll . . . I’ll jump.”
She swung at his shoulder just as the car hit a bump in the road. Missing her target, she fell back, breathing hard.
She peered over the side at the ground whizzing by them and changed her mind about jumping. She was furious with Caleb, but not furious enough to risk life or limb. Instead, she flung her body back against the seat in a fit of pique. She cried out whenever they hit a rough patch of road, but mostly she seethed in silence.
The cool night air blew in her face, a welcome relief after the heat of the day. Hair pins worked free from her bun and loose hair whipped around her head.
At long last Bertha came to a rolling stop. It was about time. She didn’t even wait for Caleb to turn off the motor before climbing out of the car. Legs shaking, her boots sank into soft ground. She didn’t know where she was and didn’t care. She’d walk home if it took her all night.
“Mooooooo.”
Startled, she jumped, her back pressed against the side of the car. Now she knew why Caleb had stopped. Cattle blocked the road, but she’d been too upset to notice until now.
Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) Page 19
