He seemed to accept my answer, so we rode in blessed silence for a while longer. I burrowed deeper into my coat, shielding myself from the cold. My horse knew the way back to his stable, so I let him find it.
“You know,” Wyatt broke the quiet again. “Palmer’s looking for a doctor.”
I hadn’t expected the conversation to go in that direction. “Didn’t Isaac mention a Doctor Brown?”
Wyatt waved his hand, apparently dismissing Doctor Brown. “He’s old and drinks too much. I wouldn’t trust anyone I wanted to live to his care.”
“So why tell me?”
“You’re a doctor.”
“I was once.”
“What happened?”
That was where I suspected he actually meant the conversation to go. For a man who projected a gruff, scowling, hard-nosed image, he excelled at asking questions.
“It’s a long story.”
“So you said. Turns out, we’ve got some time.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“I care about Lydia. We all do. I want to know what sort of man we’re trusting her with.”
“The kind of man who honors his debts.”
He nodded. “Fair enough.”
I hoped that would be the end of it, but I doubted it would be. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to let things go that easily, and the last thing I needed was for a small town sheriff to start digging into my past. These were the kinds of snarls that resulted from getting too involved, from getting too mixed up in other people’s lives. Another reason why traveling and the solitary life suited me just fine.
By the time we could see the lights of town, my mind had wandered to travel plans for tomorrow. The stage left town at eight, so I wanted to make sure I arrived at the ranch to pick up Lydia fairly early.
“Well, when you bring Lydia back home, give that job some thought,” Wyatt said, reining his horse to a halt and turning to head for the other end of town.
I stopped my horse in its tracks and considered Wyatt in the light of the moon. I couldn’t read his expression. “What are you up to, sheriff?”
He chuckled and tipped his hat. “Have a good evening, Emmett, and if I don’t see you before the stage leaves in the morning, safe travels. Take good care of Lydia, and bring her back to us.”
He nudged his horse and headed off toward town.
“I won’t be back, sheriff. And if Lydia wants to come back, she’ll have to do it on her own,” I called after him.
He didn’t say a word, or even turn to acknowledge me, just gave me a salute and continued on his way.
I arose before the sun to pack and pace while I waited for Emmett to show up and take me away. To be fair, I’d never really gone to bed. After Emmett and Wyatt left, Beth and Daisy wanted to talk, but I needed to be alone so I’d excused myself and gone to my room. I’d spent the rest of the night wrestling with my thoughts, and struggling not to give free rein to my emotions. I couldn’t win that battle, and it didn’t matter anyway because the decision was already made, regardless of how I felt about it. I’d deal with the feelings along the way.
Shortly before the sun came up I reached the limit of my patience and I needed to move. Now that my plans were made, I just wanted to leave, but short of taking off walking, hauling my suitcase with me, in hopes of meeting Emmett along the way, I didn’t have much choice than to wait. Unfortunately, by waiting, I guaranteed an extended and involved goodbye, which would only be painful and confuse me even further.
I tiptoed downstairs carrying my valise and sneaked out the front door to wait on the porch.
I found Isaac sitting in his favorite chair, wrapped in a warm coat and smoking a cigar.
“Mornin’ Lydia. Trying to sneak out of here without saying goodbye?”
“No. If you’re up, I’m sure Beth is, too. I know they won’t let me leave without goodbyes.”
“You don’t have to leave at all.”
I put my suitcase down and went to the railing to look out over the yard between the house and the barns. A layer of frost covered all the surfaces not already buried in the few inches of snow, and the very first hint of dawn lurked just outside the shadows. “I think I do. I don’t belong here.”
“Why would you say that? You belong here as much as any of the rest of us.”
I turned to face him, leaning back against the railing and pulling the fur collar of my coat closer against the early chill. “I miss the homestead, and I miss it being just the four of us. I’ll never be able to make up for what I did to you. I can see it in Beth’s eyes every time she looks at me. I broke our relationship, so I owe it to her to remove myself.”
“For my part, I don’t blame you. You did what you thought was right, protecting your family. I understand that. Of course I’m glad things turned out the way they did, but if I’d been in your shoes I might have done the same thing. Beth can be a might impetuous.”
I laughed. “You can say that again. But I think she feels I betrayed her, and I can’t stand the uneasiness between us. We aren’t the same anymore. We need some distance.”
“Maybe you just need to talk about it.”
“Perhaps, but I don’t see how words will change how she feels. What I did was inexcusable. We both know it, and it hurt her.”
The muted pounding of hooves on the trail caught my attention, just before Emmett pulled into the yard, right on time.
Isaac shrugged in a way that said he didn’t agree with me, but figured he couldn’t do much about it. “You know Wyatt was right when he said you can go and come back. You’ll always have a home here.”
He held up a hand to stop me before I could tell him how pointless the conversation was. “Your relationship with Beth can be fixed if you both want it enough.”
I looked down at my feet, not inclined to argue with him about it any longer. “You’ll be sure my letter of resignation gets to the town council?”
“I’ll take it myself.”
“I gave Sam my lesson plans. He was very generous to volunteer to fill in for me until the town can replace me.”
Isaac grinned. “They’ll never replace you, Lydia. But Sam can finally put his fancy college education to better use than working as a ranch hand.”
The first pink of sunrise had begun to color the horizon as Emmett pulled a horse and buggy into the yard. I truly wished I could just pick up my suitcase, descend the porch steps, climb into the buggy, and be gone. I didn’t look forward to an emotional farewell.
“Don’t even think about it,” Isaac said as he rose from his seat. “I’ll go get the girls.”
“Are you ready?” Emmett called.
“Almost. I need to say goodbye.”
Sunlight stretched across the landscape and the ranch came to life as men began to go about their jobs.
Daisy burst out the door before Emmett could express any irritation at me for taking so long. Beth, Nellie, and Isaac followed behind her.
Daisy threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck. If the railing hadn’t been behind me, I would have toppled to the ground.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I’ll miss you, Lydia.”
I huffed a short laugh into her ear. “I never thought I’d hear it. You’ll just miss having a butt for all your jokes.”
She held me at arm’s length. “Maybe. But I’ll miss your sad little face around here. I hope you find something on this trip to make you smile.”
She kissed my cheek, then stepped back to give Beth space.
Beth hugged me, a reserved embrace compared to Daisy’s. When she pulled back, she said, “You be careful, Lydia, and please come home.”
I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. Leaving had turned out to be harder than I’d anticipated, but I needed the distance to sort out my thoughts. At least that’s what I told myself.
Nellie stepped close and leaned her forehead to mine. “Find your heart, then come home to us.”
“Miss Templeton? We need t
o get moving if we’re going to make the stage,” Emmett said.
Isaac picked up my suitcase and descended the steps ahead of me, securing my case in the back of the buggy. He pulled me into a quick hug before giving me a hand up into the seat beside Emmett.
“Travel safely,” he said to me. Then to Emmett, he added, “Take care of her. And bring her back if you can.”
Emmett tipped his hat, then snapped the reins across the horses’ rumps. They took off at a trot and we headed out of the yard and back toward town. I turned in my seat to find everyone lined up against the railing, waving me off on my journey. Even Juanita had bundled up and taken a few minutes away from breakfast preparation to see me off.
I watched until we turned the corner of the house and I couldn’t see them anymore, then I faced forward and settled into my seat beside Emmett.
I hoped leaving wasn’t a mistake. I didn’t have the best record of making good decisions. Choosing to turn Isaac in was just the latest example of my poor choices.
We made the twenty-minute buggy ride to town in silence, which was fine with me since I spent most of it trying not to notice the length of Emmett’s thigh against the length of mine. Despite layers of clothing between us, my awareness of him seemed focused down to how snug his leg fit against mine, and the friction of our legs against one another as the buggy bounced on the trail. By the time we reached town my heart raced and I was warm enough to presume it was July rather than November.
I had no idea what his thoughts were, since he didn’t see fit to share them, and thankfully he didn’t ask after mine.
When we reached the livery, the stage was nowhere in sight. I left Lydia standing outside while I returned the buggy inside the livery.
“Is the coach late, or has it come and gone?” I asked the man inside.
“Ain’t been here yet. There’s a bench outside. You can wait there. Should be along soon.”
Outside, I found Lydia already on the bench, so I took a seat beside her, being sure to leave space between us. She remained silent, so I took her cue. I couldn’t think of anything to talk about anyway.
“Miss Templeton? What are you doing here?”
A young, high-pitched voice called to us from the street, followed by a jumble of voices, and then the thunder of little boots in the dirt. Before I knew it, a huddle of children collected around us, and Lydia transformed. She let her guard down and bloomed like a spring flower.
“Why are you at the livery?” one little girl asked.
Lydia’s smile warmed the air around her. “I’m taking a trip, Bess, so I’m waiting for the stage.”
“When are you coming back?” a boy of no more than six or seven asked as he squeezed between Lydia and I so he could lean on her.
She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and pulled him against her side. “Well, Jacob, I’m not sure. I have to go help my brother in Omaha.”
“But we need you here,” Jacob said, his voice so earnest I could sense his concern.
Lydia leveled him with a look that left no doubt how important he was to her. “It warms my heart to hear you say so. But right now my brother needs me a little more. So I need to go take care of him.”
One of the other boys noticed me, and giving me a suspicious glare, he asked, “Is this your gentleman friend?”
That earned him a round of laughter from the group. “Oh, please,” another girl said. “Miss Templeton’s an old maid. She doesn’t have a gentleman friend.”
I’d been so interested in the rest of the exchange, the boy’s question took me by surprise, but the girl’s response got my hackles up and a need to defend Lydia came rushing out of nowhere. “Now listen here,” I said.
Lydia rested a warning hand on my arm. “No, Stewart, he isn’t my gentleman friend. My brother sent him to escort me back to Omaha. And Irene, I’m not quite an old maid yet. Twenty-eight may seem old to you, and I’ll grant you I’m pushing the limit, but I still hope someday I’ll find the man of my dreams. Just like I’m sure you will.”
“Irene already has her eye on a boy,” Bess said, grinning ear to ear. A little girl with that kind of information could do serious damage, I imagined.
The thunderous glare Irene gave Bess confirmed my suspicions. “You keep your big mouth shut, Bess Martin.”
Bess just grinned and rocked back and forth on her heels. That girl was nothing but trouble.
“That’s neither here nor there. What’s important is that you behave while I’m gone,” Lydia said.
Given the evidence at hand, I had serious doubts that would happen, but Lydia seemed to have faith in them.
The group made no verbal commitment, and mostly just grumbled.
“Come now. Why such long faces? You’ll love your new teacher so much you’ll forget all about me.”
Another girl, maybe ten or eleven, made a scoffing sound. “I doubt it. The teacher we had before you was a horrible mean witch. She yelled at us when we answered questions wrong, and beat us with a ruler when we spoke out of turn or fidgeted in our seats.”
“Yeah,” another boy said. “You’re the best teacher we ever had. Whoever our new teacher is, she’ll probably be awful.”
Lydia frowned a little, shifting her gaze to the older boy. Her smile disappeared and she looked angry for just a moment, but then the corners of her mouth twitched in a teasing smile. I wouldn’t have imagined Lydia as the teasing kind; more the straight-laced, straight-forward, no-nonsense type. “William, you should know I’d never leave you with a horrible teacher. In fact, your new teacher is my friend. He’s a very nice man, and I’m sure you’ll like him just fine.”
“Our new teacher’s a man?” Jacob asked, as if he’d never thought it possible.
“He certainly is. In fact, he’s Sheriff Collins’ brother, Sam.”
“Sheriff Collins is mean,” Stewart said.
The older girl made her scoffing sound again. “That’s only because he arrested your daddy when he got drunk and started a fight at the tavern.”
“Mary-Ellen, you take that back. My daddy did no such thing. Somebody else started it. Daddy just tried to break it up.”
Mary-Ellen rolled her eyes. “Pffft. That’s a dirty old lie.”
Stewart launched himself at Mary-Ellen, shoving her backward until she had to windmill her arms to maintain her balance and keep from falling into the muddy street. “I’m not a liar.”
“No, but your daddy is,” Jacob said, then sidled closer into the safety of Lydia’s arm.
I almost jumped in to separate the children in order to avoid an all-out brawl, but Lydia intervened. All she did was stand up.
“Stewart. That’s enough,” she said, her voice quiet but stern.
Stewart, whose daddy was apparently a drunken, brawling, liar, stood to attention, then turned a bashful face to Lydia. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me,” she said, drawing out her comment just enough to suggest he owed his apology elsewhere.
“But…” he said, his voice hinting at a whine.
Lydia tilted her head a bit and raised her brows, letting him know she expected more from him.
“Fine,” he said. “Mary-Ellen, I’m sorry I shoved you. But you shouldn’t talk about my daddy that way.”
Mary-Ellen looked down at her shoes, then back up at Stewart. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
I was agog. In my experience—which was mostly limited to sick children, or watching other people’s children in public venues—children were difficult at best and hooligans at worst. But Lydia had them wrapped around her little finger, and all of them—including Lydia—seemed happy about it.
Hooves and jingling tackle sounded not far off, which meant the stage was nearby.
“Okay, children,” Lydia said. “You need to get to school.”
A chorus of groans greeted her command.
“No complaining,” she said. “Mr. Collins will be wondering where all of his students are on his first day.”
<
br /> They all shuffled forward into Lydia’s little universe. She clearly loved each and every one of her students. I wondered why she’d never married and had a whole brood of her own. She’d likely be in her element as a mother.
The herd of children each stepped up for a hug, and after she’d obliged the last, they stumbled off for the schoolhouse just as the stage pulled up to the livery.
Lydia stood in the street, watching after the children. From the straight, tight lines of her back, I could only imagine how difficult it was for her to leave them behind. Randall was a poor exchange.
I stepped up behind her. “We need to go, Lydia.”
She cleared her throat and turned, meeting my gaze. For just a moment, bold, raw sadness flashed in her eyes, but then she nodded a brisk nod and took a step past me to collect her things. “They’ll be fine, you know,” I said to her back.
She was quiet for a moment, and I thought maybe she hadn’t heard me, but then she turned her head and said, over her shoulder, “I know. That’s what I’m afraid of.”
I hadn’t expected to see my students before I left. For a woman who desired to avoid complicated, involved goodbyes, I’d failed miserably.
Emmett handed my luggage to the stage driver, who slung it up onto the roof of the stage.
“Ma’am,” the driver said. “You can board if you’d like.”
He opened the door and offered me his hand. I held my skirts and climbed the steps. Emmett stayed, handing the driver our tickets as he spoke with him.
Inside the coach, it startled me to realize another passenger was already on board. The man, perhaps in his forties, with dark brown eyes and a mustache waxed into a very slight upturn, wore a camel-colored felt hat at a jaunty angle on his head.
“Oh, hello,” I said.
“Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat in greeting. “Wallace McCoy.”
“Lydia Templeton. Pleased to meet you,” I said, taking a seat opposite him and arranging my skirts. I scooted to the far end of the bench away from him.
Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2) Page 3
