Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2)

by Margaret Madigan

  Copyright 2016 by Margaret Madigan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Formatter: E-Book Builders

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  BOOKS BY MARGARET MADIGAN

  ABOUT MARGARET

  CONTACT MARGARET

  FOR THE READER

  To Darin, for being such a patient and creative sounding board.

  Palmer, Nevada

  November 1872

  The bracing coldness of the air hit my face as I closed the door to the schoolhouse and locked it behind me.

  “Miss Templeton?”

  Mayor Parker stood at the bottom of the steps.

  “Good afternoon, Mayor. What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about your proposal for a town library.”

  My heart swelled with hope as I descended the stairs to stand beside him. I’d been trying to talk the Mayor and Town Council into a library for a while now. Maybe they’d finally decided to dedicate some time and money to the project. “I’m heading to the livery. Would you like to walk with me?”

  “Certainly.”

  We fell into step together. “What can you tell me about my proposal?” I asked, crossing my fingers in my coat pocket.

  He cleared his throat and drew his brows together in a serious expression, but wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Well…”

  “It’s been rejected,” I said.

  “Nobody on the council dislikes the idea, exactly, they just didn’t think it’s the best use of the town’s money when we have other issues to deal with.”

  I turned to face him as we reached the front of the livery. “You and the council may consider a town library to be frivolous and unimportant, but I assure you, it’s nothing of the sort. My teaching is limited by the few books we have to choose from in the classroom. We’ve read the same books so many times that their covers are tattered and falling off, and the pages are worn thin. Most of the children have few books at home.”

  The Mayor stood taller, as if that would telegraph his indignation even more. “Miss Templeton, most of these children will be farmers or ranchers, or work in positions which do not allow them the luxury of lounging around and reading literature. I don’t even know why the girls are in school. They’ll just be married when they’re old enough. Why do they need schooling? And as for your limited supply of books, you’re only required to teach them the skills of reading, writing, and figuring. Anything beyond that is just excessive.”

  “Mr. Mayor…” Before I could even begin to rebut his narrow views, the door behind me flung open and smacked me in the back. I stumbled forward into the mayor, who pushed me off him as if I’d infect him with something contagious if he touched me.

  I got my feet under me and glanced back, planning to give whomever had barreled into me a piece of my mind. All I registered was tall, dark haired stranger with a wide-brimmed hat.

  “Oh, excuse me, ma’am. Are you hurt?” he asked.

  I turned my attention back to the mayor, who was in the process of backing away, escaping the consequences of his comments.

  “No, I’m fine, thank you,” I said, waving the man off.

  “Please accept my apologies.”

  “Yes, yes. Fine. No harm done,” I said, hurrying after the mayor and leaving the stranger behind. “Mr. Mayor,” I called after him.

  “Good day, then,” the stranger said and headed off down the street.

  “Miss Templeton,” the mayor said, stopping on the other side of the street. “I understand you have a passion for this project, but the council has made a decision, and it’s final. Your job is clear, and you have the supplies to do it. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  I didn’t want to excuse him. I wanted to argue with him about the value of a comprehensive education for both boys and girls. How it would broaden their horizons, help them learn to think and reason and dream. How life was about more than just getting married and having babies, or planting crops, or raising cattle. But he turned his back on me and walked away.

  I took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. My hands were tied, leaving me wallowing in frustration. I’d just have to find other ways to expose my students to a wider education.

  Back at the livery, I collected Dusty, then rode out for the ranch, trying to swallow down my anger with every step my horse took.

  It wasn’t just about being an effective teacher and having a variety of reading material for the students. I wanted a library for the whole town—a place where everyone could find books to enjoy. I couldn’t be the only person in town who loved a good story. Anyway, what could it hurt? It might even give people something to do with their idle time other than getting into trouble.

  But apparently the matter had been decided. I snuggled deeper into my coat to avoid the chill November air, and gave Dusty a dejected nudge in the flank with my heel to remind her we were on the way home, not out for a stroll. She still wasn’t used to living at the Lazy D ranch and often tried to go back to the old homestead instead. I didn’t blame her. We’d only lived at the Lazy D for a few months, but it didn’t feel like home to me, either.

  “It’s okay, sweetie,” I told her, unable to shake my blue mood. “We’ll get used to it. There’s plenty of space there for both of us—a big stable for you, and Boreas is there. And there’s a big kitchen for me, and I have my own room.”

  I patted her neck and gave her another nudge. She lurched along at a better pace shuffling through the dusting of snow on the ground.

  “That’s it, girl. I want to get there before Juanita has dinner all done. I miss cooking for everyone.”

  At least my words of encouragement seemed to convince Dusty. I wasn’t so sure, myself. I was happy for Beth that she’d found love again. Marriage and life on the ranch had made her bloom. But I missed the homestead as much as Dusty. At least there, Beth, Daisy, Nellie, and I had been a family. If I couldn’t affect any change in town, at least I’d always had my friends.

  “That’s not very charitable,” I said aloud.

  I’d taken to talking to myself lately just to keep myself company. Everyone else at the ranch was so busy with their own work, we hardly had the chance to sit down for the quiet evenings around the table that we used to every night.

  “I wonder what Juanita’s got cooking tonight.”

  I had to admit, Juanita was an excellent cook, and having her cook for everyone took pressure off me. I didn’t have to rush home after a long day of teaching to prepare supper. But now that we had that big, beautiful kitchen, my fingers itched to get in there and experiment.

  Maybe someday I’d have my own family to cook for. I’d have a husband of my own, and I wouldn’t have to te
ach everyone else’s children because I’d have plenty of my own, and I’d have my own home I could keep clean and beautiful. I’d have my own garden where I’d grow my own vegetables and herbs to use in my own kitchen. I’d invite Beth and Isaac, Daisy and Nellie for supper every Sunday, and we’d sit around my table and laugh and sing and the children would run around and we’d have to scold them, but not put much heart into it because they’d be so sweet and having so much fun it would seem wrong to put an end to it.

  I swiped at the tear that slid down my cheek.

  “That’ll never happen, Lydia. Best you just forget that dream right now.”

  Dusty tossed her head up and down, as if agreeing with me.

  “Traitor,” I muttered.

  It had been a secret dream of mine for years, but I tried not to take it out and examine it very often because without careful handling it always left a sore, painful spot, like a fresh bruise. I knew I’d never get that dream, so it seemed pointless to even consider it; and yet, I couldn’t help it every now and then.

  “I must be a glutton for punishment. Father would surely have something to say about that, being Eve’s daughter, after all. Destined for sin and misery.”

  Dusty had slowed, more interested in a rare clump of fresh grass than hurrying home. I nudged her with my heel again, and she moved along. I buried my hands in the coat pockets. For not the first time today, I cursed the fact I’d left my gloves at home.

  I hummed a tune we’d sung in class today, trying to distract myself from maudlin thoughts. The children enjoyed music as a break between subjects, or at the end of the day while they put their books away or cleaned the chalkboard. It made the time and chores pass more pleasantly, and I’d found they were more willing to work together when they were singing. The curriculum didn’t strictly include singing, but I’d always enjoyed it; maybe not Father’s relentless hymns, but I shouldn’t allow him to ruin singing for me forever. He was dead, after all, but as was typical of him, he refused to be gone.

  I opened my mouth and started singing lyrics, quiet at first, the volume just above a hum. But it felt so good, so free, I sang louder. The words tasted good the louder I sang them, as if they could swat away my blues; as if singing poured my misery out of me and refilled the space with hope. Maybe if I sang loud enough, even Father would hear as he sat at the Almighty’s side.

  With nobody around, I lifted my voice to the heavens and belted the song into the empty air. Even Dusty seemed to perk up and pick up her pace.

  “You have a lovely voice.”

  The next lyrics out of my mouth turned into a choked scream as a man rode up beside me.

  My hand flew to my chest on reflex, to calm my pounding heart.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He removed his glove and offered his hand. “I’m Emmett Wilder.”

  “You’re the man from the stable,” I said. As my thundering heart slowed to a mere gallop, I considered him more closely than I had earlier. Clean suit, tailored, but not extravagant under a coat of the same quality. Short dark hair under his hat, a well-groomed goatee, eyes the color of a cornflower, aristocratic features—a very handsome man, indeed, and exactly the kind who always looked down their nose at me as mousy and plain.

  I shook his hand once, then dropped the handshake quickly.

  “How did you approach without my hearing?” I cleared my throat and hid my hand in my pocket, where the ghost of his touch still tingled.

  “You were clearly intent on the song.” He smiled in a way that suggested humor. His eyes sparkled with it.

  I glanced away. I didn’t need to see his jest. “You needn’t mock me. I didn’t intend for anyone else to hear it.”

  “It was lovely, really. I’d never mock that kind of spirit.”

  I peered at him again, to gauge his sincerity. His expression seemed in earnest.

  “Well, thank you. I enjoy singing.”

  “That was clear enough from the look on your face.”

  I was horrified he’d been privy to such an unguarded moment. I loved to sing, but I rarely did it with such abandon, and certainly never in the company of others. “That was not meant for you, sir.”

  He gave me a nod of acknowledgement, and placed his hand over his heart. “My sincerest apologies, miss.”

  I straightened in my saddle a bit, allowing him to see I still had my dignity, or at least some shreds of it. “Thank you.”

  “But it was quite beautiful.”

  “Where are you headed?” I asked, wishing to change the subject to something other than my singing. “This trail leads to the Lazy D ranch. Are you lost?”

  “No, ma’am. That’s exactly where I’m headed.”

  The ranch house came into sight and Dusty picked up her pace, anxious to get back to her stable and supper—and Boreas.

  “Follow me to the barn and one of the hands will take care of your horse, then come up to the house and we’ll set you a place at the table.”

  “There’s no need to feed me, I’m just here on business.”

  “Your reason for being here doesn’t matter. You’ll still be fed. Nobody’s turned away from my table hungry.”

  The woman urged her horse to a trot and took off ahead of me toward the ranch’s stable. Frankly, she was adorable. I hadn’t met a woman like her in a while—shy, unassuming, vulnerable, but not in the affected way I often saw. This one was authentic. Yet, she seemed to have steel in her spine, too; a confident pride she didn’t want anyone to see.

  I wondered what she did at the ranch. She obviously lived there, given the invitation to their table.

  I gave my horse a kick in the ribs and followed her, watching more curls the color of prairie grass in the autumn escape from her bonnet and bounce in time with the horse’s trot. It had taken no small strength of will to keep from reaching across the space between us to push her spectacles up on her little nose.

  A cool breeze hit me square in the face, a slap of reality from Mother Nature. What was I thinking? I was there on business. Granted it was unfortunate business I wished more than anything I could have avoided, but long ago I’d promised Randall Templeton a favor and he’d called it in. When I’d objected that the timing of his request interrupted my route, he’d reminded me of the secrets he knew about me. So there I was.

  By the time I reached the stable, the woman had already spoken to the stable hand, and had headed to the house.

  I handed over the reins of my rented horse and tipped my hat to the hand. “Thank you much.”

  Crossing the space between the stable and the house, I patted my chest, just to verify the letter was still safe in the inside pocket of my coat. Knowing Randall, the contents of the letter would change his sister’s life.

  I climbed the porch steps and knocked on the door. A voluptuous redhead answered, then stood back to allow me to enter.

  “Lydia said you’d be coming along. Welcome to the Lazy D.”

  “Lydia Templeton? She was the woman I followed here to the ranch?”

  The redhead closed the door behind me. “Yep. Can I take your coat?”

  I unbuttoned the coat and slipped out of it. I didn’t want to be the one to deliver bad news to Lydia. In theory, it had seemed a simple enough job, but now that I’d met her she appeared fragile somehow, and the last thing I wanted to do was add to her burdens.

  Handing my coat over, I introduced myself. “Thank you. I’m Emmett Wilder, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Daisy Meadows. Come on, I’ll introduce you around.”

  She hung my coat on a hook, then took my hand in hers and led me into the dining room where quite a few people surrounded a large table

  “Everyone, this is Emmett Wilder. He’s the stray Lydia picked up on the way home.” Daisy pointed to a blond woman and the dark, brooding man standing next to her. They both wore the clothes of working ranch hands. “Emmett, this is Beth and Isaac Collins, the owners of the ranch. And that’s Nellie and her son Shiye.” S
he indicated a striking native woman and her infant son sitting in the corner. “These are Isaac’s brothers Wyatt—he’s our new sheriff—and Sammy.”

  “Sam,” Sam said, standing to shake my hand. He cast a glance at Daisy that hinted he knew she was teasing him and that he’d corrected her a hundred times, but still liked the kidding between them.

  Wyatt saluted with his glass, which looked to be half full of whiskey.

  “It’s nice to meet you all,” I said.

  Before I could elaborate on my reason for being there, a Mexican woman entered the room, followed closely by Lydia, both of them carrying serving dishes loaded with food.

  “You’ve met Lydia,” Daisy continued. She waved in the direction of the other woman, “this is Juanita.”

  Juanita glanced up at me, acknowledging me with the most indifferent of nods before heading back to the kitchen. Lydia had doffed her bonnet and coat, but added an apron. Her face glowed a soft pink, probably from the heat of the kitchen, loose curls danced around her profile, and her glasses had slid halfway down her nose again. She looked positively domestic, and content.

  And I was there to crush all that.

  She offered me a shy smile then followed Juanita.

  “Lydia said you mentioned you’re here on business?” Isaac asked, removing his hat and smacking it on his thigh. A cloud of dust formed around him, then drifted to the floor.

  “Isaac,” Beth said, waving the dust away from her face.

  He grinned, softening his expression. “Sorry,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

  “Mr. Wilder, please have a seat,” Beth said. “And tell us what we can do for you.”

  I pulled out the nearest chair and sat. “Actually, I’m here to speak with Lydia. I had no idea when I met her on the trail who she was. I introduced myself, but we never got so far as for her to introduce herself.”

  Beth sat up straighter in her chair, and frowned. “What kind of business do you have with Lydia?”

  Her face hardened and I had the sense of a mama bear getting ready to protect her cubs.