Chapter Two
George gazed after Cassidy’s retreating back. He couldn’t blame her for shunning him. Hell, he was shocked she’d even spoken to him. Most women who’d been abandoned days before their wedding would be holding a shotgun to his chest.
No, he wouldn’t force himself back into her life. She was trying to build a medical practice, a dream she’d had after the war. To be a doctor. He was not about to stand in her way. For all he knew, she’d married or had a beau.
George glanced around the town he used to call home. Not much had changed. The stable for visitors was exactly where he remembered. The scent of horseflesh, leather, hay, and manure mixed to fuel his memories. He’d lived on the wrong side of town and rarely ventured into mid-town. When he did, the merchants eyed him suspiciously.
He located the stable master and inquired about hiring a horse. He’d left his bags at the Golden Arms, the only hotel in this tiny town. For the past six months, he had called New York home. Before that, he’d moved from place to place, trying to forget Cassidy, his horrid childhood, and the war.
But at the Burkeville train station a memory of the day he’d gone off to training camp surfaced. After signing their enlistment papers, the new soldiers met at the station to leave for a camp in upstate Pennsylvania. Cassidy’s entire family had come to see off her brothers, Quinn and Josh. No one saw him off. His father lay passed out drunk, and at that time, he hadn’t seen or heard from any of his brothers for a number of years.
That day, he’d tried to steal a goodbye kiss from Cassidy. The memory made him grin. She’d taken a swing at him. Although he had ducked, he’d fallen flat on his back.
His father, the only member of his family left in town at the time, had railed when George joined the army. The old man drank himself into a stupor every day and depended on George to work odd jobs to earn money and tend the small field behind their shack. His father’s sole income derived from selling those crops at a local market, as well as surplus eggs from their chickens.
But George had longed for escape from his tarnished upbringing, and his best friend, Josh Stuart, had convinced him joining the Union army would be exciting and glorious.
He shook his head. And now Josh lay six feet under in the National Cemetery in Gettysburg. Cut down in his prime. Just like many other men who had perished in that awful war. And sometimes when he thought how he’d treated Cassie, maybe he should have died, too.
After saddling his mount, George took a leisurely trot through town to the outskirts leading to his father’s house. Although he’d lied—out of necessity—to Cassidy about his purpose in coming here, he still planned to see the spot where his father was interred.
The tidy streets and framed wood and brick homes spread out then completely disappeared as he rode through the countryside. When he found the building, he dismounted and stared at the shack he’d called home before the war. The one-room wooden structure looked even more ramshackle than he remembered. Of course, Pa would have completely neglected it. What else had he expected?
George strode around the side of the structure. The corn patch Pa used to make spare cash to feed his liquor habit and buy a bit of food was cleared out, except for a mound of fresh dirt.
“Sorry, Pa,” George intoned, “you gave me no choice but to leave.”
When he’d proposed to Cassidy, he hadn’t thought of the impact on his old man. Amos wanted George to take him in, but that was impossible. He would never have imposed the burden of his father on a new wife.
George walked back around the dilapidated structure and opened the door. He had to see it one last time. The interior of the shack was in worse shape than the outside. Stacks of dishes, pots, and cutlery lay on the table top and in wash pans, many still food-encrusted. Roaches crawled over the table top, and a rat scurried from beneath. George recoiled. One oil lantern sat on the table, the only other lighting fixtures seemed to be candles.
It’s a wonder he didn’t burn the place down years ago.
Memories of the years growing up in this place, feeling ostracized by the rest of the town, his mother’s desertion, harsh punishments dealt out by his pa when he wasn’t passed out drunk and the time he spent recuperating here after Gettysburg, crowded in and threatened to send him screaming out into the fresh air. Nothing but ghosts lived here now.
His only good memory...the care Cassidy had provided during his convalescence after he was wounded at Gettysburg. If not for her, he likely wouldn’t have survived to return to his regiment.
Pushing the hurtful memories from his mind, he left the shack and breathed in the fresh air. For now, he had a real purpose in life, although he had to keep it from the town, and especially Cassie, for her protection as well as his.
****
Returning home, Cassidy pulled the pin from her hat and lifted it from her head, careful not to pull her bun out of place. She set the hat on the mahogany entry table and draped her shawl over the hook by the door. Her mother strode from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
Guilt niggled at her for lying to George, but she had to get away. His sudden appearance dredged up the hurt he’d caused her, even after five years. A pain she’d hoped never to surface again.
“Since I seem to have no patients, as usual...” She eyed her mother. “I’ll do some gardening after I change into my work dress.”
“That’ll be fine, Cassie. With just you, me, and Matt here, I’ve got the baking well under control.”
Cassidy bit her lip. “Thought you should know...”
Her mother turned back, a frown on her face. “Know what?”
“I saw George in town today.”
“George Masters?” The frown turned into a scowl. “What’s he doing here?”
“Nothing to do with me, Ma. He’s here to pay respects to his father.”
“Well, about time one of Amos’s no-account sons showed up. If the undertaker didn’t bury him, he’d still be rotting in that shack he called home.”
“Ma!”
“Just be glad that man ran off before he married you instead of after.”
Cassidy sighed. “I’d rather not discuss this right now. Just wanted to warn you in case you see him in town.”
She turned from her mother’s raised brows and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. After changing, she gathered her sun bonnet, apron, and a spade, then trudged to the small garden bordering the front porch.
Two days ago, she had promised her mother she’d attend to the weeds. New ones sprang up overnight after a few days of heavy rain. Maybe pulling weeds would get her mind off her worries about the practice and seeing George again after all these years.
A half hour later, Cassidy brushed her soiled hands over her apron and surveyed the garden, which now looked in fair shape to plant seeds. Rising, she glanced at the sun. Delicious warmth bathed her face. The past winter had been extremely cold with a lot of snow. If not for the work with her father’s patients, hopelessness would have descended with nothing but endless chores to occupy her time.
Cassidy smiled as she remembered the day Ma had ordered Sarah to help Cassidy in the garden. Her sister had worn her best dress and bonnet in hopes Cassidy would send her on her way. When she threatened to smear Sarah’s good dress with mud, she’d flown into the house in alarm.
Sarah had married a lieutenant she’d met during the war and now lived in York. Sarah and her husband, Wesley, weren’t able to visit often, even though York wasn’t much of a distance. They’d last been in town for Pa’s funeral, then stayed for the Christmas holidays—not a very joyous occasion this year—but the family hadn’t seen them since, only communicating through letters.
Her brother, Quinn, was serving an internship in a hospital in Harrisburg. Cassidy ached with jealousy. She wished she could follow in his footsteps by attending a real medical school like he had. His letters and frequent visits left her ravenous with longing. She wanted with all her heart to be a real doctor and set up her own practice. George
thought she could. Her father had taught her well, but hadn’t thought medical school practical for a woman. Her mother—while tolerating her daughter’s work with patients, since her husband’s death, as a way to earn extra money—thought Cassidy should set her sights on eligible men, especially once Quinn returned. But her brother would approve of her applying to a medical school. He was the only support she had.
“I miss you, Quinn,” Cassidy muttered as she brushed off her apron in preparation for returning to the house.
“Who you talking to?”
The baritone voice startled her. She turned to find Matt pushing a hand through his dark hair. “I was commiserating the fact that Quinn isn’t here.”
Matt, a child during the war years, was too young to go off with their brothers and George to fight for the Union. But now, five years later, he’d grown into a strapping young man. At the local barn dances, the girls all vied to catch his eye.
Cassidy lifted a hand to brush an errant lock of hair from her younger brother’s face.
“It’s that medical school thing again, Cassie, isn’t it?”
She sighed and gathered her skirts, settling on the porch steps. “I don’t see why women can’t go to medical school along with the men. What harm would it do?”
Matt scowled. “Reckon I don’t know why any of you want to care for sick people. I prefer working at the bank. And I make good money.”
Cassidy smiled and placed a hand on his arm. “You’re like Josh. He wanted nothing to do with doctoring, either.”
“I miss Josh.” Matt laid his hand atop hers.
“We all do, Matt. I’d best go in and wash up.”
She pulled away from him, gathered her skirts, and preceded her brother into the house. Talking of Josh, killed at Gettysburg, caused her mind to drift back to the time she’d found George seriously wounded days after that horrific battle.
He’d been gaunt, weak, and in turmoil over the loss of Josh. She’d felt so sorry for George that even though she’d just lost her oldest brother, George had stolen her heart.
His dark gaze raking over her, his familiar scent, and the feel of his arms around her evoked all the old memories. The sight of his sensual lips brought back the taste of his kiss. The drawn, almost skeletal man who’d returned from prison camp had filled out even better than before he’d left for the war. Five years had only enhanced the appearance of the man she’d loved so dearly.
He still wore the spade beard, covering only his chin, and a well-trimmed mustache. And despite the abusive upbringing at the hands of his alcoholic father, he’d always retained a fine sense of humor. Although she’d spurned him many a time before the war, thinking him nothing but a flirt, she wasn’t able to keep herself from falling in love after he was wounded and nearly died.
She paused in the kitchen doorway, not sure she’d be able to resist his charms if he stayed in town too long. But she wouldn’t allow George or any other man to turn her ordered life upside down.
Chapter Three
George cracked an eyelid and grimaced at the late morning sunshine streaming through cracks in the window shade. Today he planned to start his investigation of a doctor in town named Scott Madison.
He slid from beneath the bed covering, padded to the chamber set on the dresser, and splashed water on his face. Stepping to the window, he peered at the street below.
Ah, Cassidy. She’d been a rock for him to lean on at Gettysburg when he’d come so close to death. But they’d never had a moment alone, except for the months she had cared for him in his cabin. But then, he’d been too ill to act on his impulses, never having the chance to finger the strands of her silky hair loose around her shoulders, or share more than a cursory kiss.
And those long, harsh months in Libby Prison in Richmond, when he’d believed his time on earth at an end...his memories of Cassie the only thing keeping him alive... After the surrender, he had come back to her. And left.
He’d figured she must have married by now, but she’d said nothing to indicate that. Of course, she had been in an awful hurry to get away. And his life until six months ago had been a mess. On the advice of a gambling acquaintance, he’d applied for a job with the Pinkerton Agency as an investigator. His experience as an officer during the war helped secure him the job. Colonel Wellingham, who he’d served under during the war, had also given him a glowing recommendation.
Allen Pinkerton’s son, William, had specially chosen him for this assignment, knowing he’d lived in Burkeville before the war. The colonel, whose daughter had been assaulted by the doctor when he still practiced at his father’s prestigious Philadelphia office, learned Madison had gone to hide in the small town. The colonel contacted the Pinkerton Agency to hire an investigator to poke around and find any evidence he could against the physician.
The thought of the monster anywhere near Cassidy infuriated him. He’d kill any bastard who would take advantage of his position as a doctor to harm a woman. He’d make a point to keep abreast of her whereabouts, whether she liked it or not, but had to be careful his purpose in coming home wasn’t revealed to her or anyone else.
****
By the time Cassidy finished washing the breakfast dishes, her mother stepped into the kitchen. “Cassie, you have a patient waiting in the office. You need to see her right quick.”
“A patient?” Cassidy scowled. “I don’t have any appointments scheduled until tomorrow.”
“It’s an emergency. It can’t wait.”
“Who is it, Ma?”
“Miss Baker, the new school teacher. She’s cut her arm. It’s bleeding a lot, I’m afraid. You may have to suture it.”
Cassidy raced to the office.
The school marm peered up at her, her blue eyes smudged, face white. She held up her arm, draped in a bloodied towel. “I’m sorry, Miss Stuart, but I hoped you’d be in. Your mother cleaned and wrapped my arm and told me to wait here and hold it up to help staunch the bleeding.”
“How did this happen?” Cassidy knelt beside the woman, peering beneath the towel. Bright red blood oozed from the gaping wound. But at least the cut wasn’t gushing. Her mother had done a fine job. “I’m afraid you’ll need sutures, Miss Baker.”
She nodded. “I thought I might. It wouldn’t stop bleeding after I...” Her face flushed pink. “I was chopping wood for my classroom, and the axe slipped.” She smiled wanly. “I didn’t want to wait for the older boys to arrive. They usually do it. I briefly thought of going to that new doctor in town, but Mrs. Heller, one of my student’s mothers, suggested you. She said you’d birthed her last baby and had been gentle and respectful.” The teacher winced as Cassidy probed the wound.
“Sorry...I have to see how deep it is.” She warmed inwardly at the words of her former patient. Mrs. Heller, a strong, sturdy woman and a model patient, practically delivered the baby herself only two months after Cassidy’s father passed. At least she had a few loyal patients left.
The inch-long cut on Miss Baker’s arm didn’t appear to be too deep. Cassidy smiled. “I think a few well-placed stitches should do the job. I’m glad you didn’t do yourself more serious damage. I’ll send my mother in to bathe the wound again, while I get the sutures ready. It will hurt, but only a little. And after that, you’ll heal up just fine.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” The teacher turned her cornflower blue gaze on Cassidy.
Her breath caught when she realized she’d called her “Doctor” instead of “Miss Stuart” or “Miss Cassie” like all her other patients did.
An hour later, Miss Baker was stitched up and ready to go home. “How much is the charge?”
“One dollar and you can bring it in ten days when you return. I’ll remove the sutures then. Until then, keep it clean. We don’t want any infection cropping up. If you notice any redness or puffiness come right back and see me.”
“Yes, Doctor.” Miss Baker beamed. “I surely will. Thank you for all your help.”
Cassidy watched the teacher walk toward th
e school house. Would her treatment of Miss Baker and the few patients who’d remained loyal help turn the tide of desertion to Doc Madison? Maybe she could hold things together until her brother’s return.
****
Scott Madison strolled through town square on his way to the mercantile. After living in Philadelphia all his life, this tiny town stifled him. Only a few stores and establishments graced the main thoroughfare and one hotel for the entire town. How did one live like this? It’s barbaric!
But what better place to escape the press and rumor mongers? Obviously, his father had thought along the same lines, wanting his ostracized son someplace no one would ever find him. Unfortunately, when he arrived, the only doctor in town monopolized all the available patients. No one seemed willing to trust a virtual newcomer from the big city. But six months ago, Scott staged an apparent accident on a snow covered road, causing the untimely death of the good doctor. His intention had been to disable the man, but this worked out better. Now, Scott’s practice grew by the day. The one person standing in his way, the late doctor’s daughter, fancied herself a physician, even though she had no credentials other than assisting at her father’s side.
Scott grimaced as he opened the door of the mercantile, but his gaze caught a delightful vision of beauty at the counter. On closer examination, he realized the dark-haired woman with vivid green eyes was the very one preventing his cornering the entire town’s populace as his patients. His new adversary, the late Dr. Stuart’s oldest daughter, Cassidy.
His gaze drifted to her right. A man stood beside her. He wasn’t either of her brothers, and she wasn’t married. But he didn’t recognize the man. A potential beau from out of town?
He sidled close enough to hear their conversation without being noticed.
“Where are you staying?” she asked the man.
“Over at the hotel.”
“Well, my invitation stands. Come see us while you’re in town.” She nodded and maneuvered her skirts stepping toward the door.
Cassidy's War Page 2
