Mail Order Bride 22 Book Boxed set: 22 Brides Ride West :CLEAN Western Historical Romance Series Bundle

by Faye Sonja

  "Kit!" Isabella exclaimed. "Has your cough got worse? I told you to come and see me if it didn't get better."

  "It's nothing. It's been fine. I don't need no doctor anyway."

  Isabella threw her hands up. "I've left all my equipment behind as well. If I'd known I could have brought my bag home with me. Do you want me to go back? I can pick up some medicine as well, something to soothe the cough."

  Kit shook his head. "No, you're exhausted, Isabella. I'm fine. Don't go back out in the cold and rain for me."

  "I think I should," she said, making a move to stand up.

  Kit put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Isabella, please, I can't bear to see you go out again with the state you're in. You'll end up sicker than I am."

  "Hmm - so you do admit you're sick then?"

  Kit sighed. "I just need a good night's rest. So do you."

  He turned around to take the pot off the boil, and by the time he turned back to Isabella, she was already fast asleep.

  * * *

  Isabella was awoken that night, not by the sounds of the howls and whistles coming from the woods, but by her husband's coughing and spluttering.

  "That's enough, Kit," Isabella said, putting her foot down. "If you won't seek medical care for your own sake, at least do it to put me out of my misery. I can't put up with one more sleepless night like this!"

  "I've told you already..."

  "I don't care. If you weren't so darn superstitious, and maybe open to change - or open to any new ideas at all - maybe you wouldn't be so scared of coming to the practice!"

  Kit turned around slowly, a flash of anger in his eyes. "I'm not scared Isabella. I'm no coward!"

  "I know you're not," Isabella replied quickly, her voice gentle. "I didn't mean to suggest that. I know you're very courageous, in many ways. But a man who is brave in battle can be a fool off the battle field. I don't know how you could have survived a war, and yet still remain so petrified of a little trip to the doctor."

  Kit turned and walked out the door, slamming the door behind him. But not before he shouted, "Fine! I'll see you there first thing in the morning!"

  Isabella smiled, pleased with herself. A small victory, maybe, but to Isabella it felt like a big one. She was finally getting through to Kit, chipping away at his exterior piece by piece.

  * * *

  "There, that wasn't so bad now, was it?" Isabella asked, taking the stethoscope away from Kit's chest. "I mean, I know this thing can be a bit cold, but it's hardly torture, is it?"

  Kit gave her a skeptical look. "So what do you think is wrong with me, Doctor?"

  Isabella gave him a little smile. "Nothing too serious, I don't think. There's a little bit of fluid in the lungs, which can be remedied if you take a bit of rest."

  "How am I supposed to rest? With you here at work all day, who's going to take care of the property? We need wood, for one thing, or else we'll freeze to death."

  "We'll get by for a few days. There's plenty of spare firewood to last us, and I can help out a little around the yard for a few days."

  "You're already doing too much," Kit commented.

  "I'm happy to do it." Isabella placed one hand on her hip, gazing at this stubborn man of hers. "Can you just let me take care of you for once, Kit? It's like pulling teeth Kit, trying to get through to you."

  "I don't need you to look after me," Kit snapped, pulling his jacket back on as he leapt off the bench he'd been sitting on.

  "Right now you do," Isabella said, trying to sound gentle, trying to diffuse the situation. She could see that something she'd said had rattled her husband, and he had that fiery look in his eyes again. "Just for a few days."

  "I don't need any looking after! You hear me? Especially not by you," he yelled.

  "Kit," she reprimanded him. "Hush! I have other patients waiting for me in the next room. You're causing an almighty scene, you do realize? People will gossip about us, say that we argue, talk about our private business, for crying out loud."

  "I don't care about any of that," Kit said, reaching out for his hat.

  "Of course you don't. You don't care what may affect me. Just because you are used to living a life with no manners or decency, you don't need to bring me down to that level. I'm a respected person in this town, and I don't wish for others to hear our private business. And I don't wish for you to talk to me in such a way, Kit."

  He was quiet for a moment or two, adjusting his hat and jacket, seeming like he was trying to clam himself down. "Alright Isabella, fair enough. But you've got to understand that I don't like to be babied and coddled. I don't need it!"

  "I hardly think I am coddling you by suggesting you need a bit of bed rest, with a cough as bad as you've got. I think you're being ridiculous, Kit. In fact, I think you're a ridiculous man altogether, at times."

  Kit thrust his right shoulder forward. "This is it - this is why you treat me this way, isn't it?"

  "What are you talking about?" She glanced over at the right shoulder, at the missing place where the limb should have been. "Kit, that has nothing to do with anything."

  He scoffed. "Yeah right! You think just because I'm missing my arm, that I need to be taken care of, that I can't do things myself."

  "I do not think that." Isabella spoke quietly now. No longer because she was worried about others overhearing, but because she felt sudden sorrow, guilt that her husband was feeling like this. She had not meant to make him feel bad, or like less of a man, just because he was missing a limb. She'd simply wanted to make sure his cough didn't turn into a fever, or pneumonia. "Kit, is this really what you think? I don't believe that you need special treatment, or that you can't provide for us."

  "Yes you do," he said, his voice low, hanging his head. "You said last night, that you think I'm scared, a coward. Too scared to come to a doctor's office, for crying out loud."

  "I do not think you're a coward, Kit Greegeory. Not for any reason, and certainly not because of your injury. I think such a thing makes you brave. It makes you a hero."

  She took a step closer to him, hoping to get closer, to share an embrace, to end the fight, but Kit kept his head hung, and refused Isabella's advances. "It sure don't feel like that."

  "Kit, if you could just let me explain." Once again she was frustrated by the stubbornness her husband displayed. Refusing to do things even when they were for his own good. Refusing her apology and explanation even when they could help to repair the damage, to end the feud.

  He raised his head back up, straightened himself up, and walked towards the door. "I'll take the medicine you prescribed me, but I won't lay in bed wasting away for a week, I can tell you that now!"

  * * *

  6

  A Step Backwards

  -

  -

  -

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  “ How could I start over again,

  here, even if I wanted to? "

  .

  White Elk, 1871,

  One Week Later.

  "Seems as though you're feeling a lot better," Isabella said, beaming up at Kit.

  Kit smiled. "I have to admit, that medicine of yours did me some good."

  Isabella couldn't prevent the smile that spread across her face. "See, this medicine stuff isn't so strange after all, is it?"

  Kit reached his left arm around and pulled Isabella in for a hug. "You're doing a lot of good in this town, Isabella. The town needs you."

  Isabella kept her face hidden for a moment or two, so that her husband couldn't see how proud she was to hear that. She had secretly started to hope that she was making a difference to the people in White Elk, to the children, to Mollie and her baby, but she hadn't dared to feel too boastful about it. But it was so lovely to hear the words come from Kit - especially when he was the last person in the world to admit when he was wrong!

  She pulled her head back. "No, it's nothing," she said. "I'm just doing what I can, helping out. I just go w
here God needs me, and he brings the people to me. I don't do much."

  "You're too humble, Isabella. Everyone in this town loves you. They're grateful that you came, and all the healthier for it, too."

  She felt a blush of red creeping up her cheeks. "Stop now," she said, reaching out for her bonnet. "I need to get to work, anyway, so that's enough of your praise."

  Kit reached out his hand and stopped her gently. "There's one other person who's grateful that you came here, Isabella.”

  “Now who’s that then?” she asked, bowing her head.

  “Me,” Kit replied firmly.

  “Now, you’re only saying that because I fixed your nasty cough.”

  “That’s not the only reason Isabella. I don’t know what I would do without you now.”

  * * *

  Jedediah walked up the hill towards the hills with a heavy gait. "Good to see ya back at work here old man," he said, grinning as he reached Kit, giving him a slap on the back.

  "Wanted to come back days ago, but Isabella was adamant that I needed more time in bed."

  "Must be a pain, married to a woman who's also a doctor. Bet you don't get much peace 'round at your place. Always having to hear about these fancy new inventions and whatnot. Bet she's been pushing that new medicine on to you."

  Kit shook his head. "It's not so bad. My cough cleared up real fast."

  Jedediah raised an eyebrow. "Know what else would have done that? Good fresh air out here. But you've been wasting away indoor for days instead."

  "Well I'm back now," Kit said, "and I've recovered completely. I'm feeling better than ever, actually."

  Jedediah stopped and looked at this man he knew so well, the one he had served beside in battle. Something was different about his face, almost like there were less lines on it like the skin was younger. "You're not going soft on me, are ya Kit? I thought you were dead set against all this modern science?"

  "Isabella has shown me that there's good that can come of it. That's it's not always something to be scared of..." Kit's voice trailed off as the flashbacks of days long gone threatened to intrude.

  Jedediah cleared his throat, also desperate to avoid a trip down memory lane. "Well, if you ask me, it's a load of old hog wash."

  They continued their work in silence for a good while, chopping away at the base of a pine tree. "So how much longer is Isabella going to work for?"

  "What do you mean?" Kit said.

  "How much longer you going to let her go out and earn money, allow her to spend so much time away from the home?"

  "I don't 'let' her do anything. It's not my place to tell her what she can and can't do. And I don't see any reason why she won't stay working for as long as she can. As long as she wants to."

  "Wow," Jedediah said. "You really have changed, Kit."

  Kit threw his axe down and rubbed his temples. "Yeah, well maybe I have. And maybe it's about time we all did. We could do with some change around here."

  * * *

  Kit worked amicably for the rest of the day, but on the walk home Jedediah's words started to echo in his mind. He tried to clear his head, but he kept picturing Jedediah's disapproving scowl, and the way he'd spoken about Isabella.

  "Is this what all the men - my men - think of me now? That I've lost control of my own household, that I'm no longer the man of the house?" His footsteps got heavier as he continued to dwell on the conversation.

  "Do people really speak about us? The woodsman, and his doctor wife? Do they think she's peculiar, too modern?" Kit was starting to come around to Isabella's way of seeing the world, but now he realized that the rest of the town was still far behind. All they saw was an odd woman, with a too-forward manner and a straight way of talking.

  A woman with a job.

  And not just a woman's job, either. Some of the other ladies in town worked as governesses, or maids, but none of them were doctors. Nurses, perhaps, during the war, but not doctors.

  The more he stewed on it the more he became convinced that he was now the town laughing stock. Jedediah and Thomas must barely recognize the man who had led them on the battlefield. That brave, courageous man was now reduced to a life chopping wood, with only one arm, and a wife who was out of the house, making a fool of him.

  When he finally reached the house that evening his mood was dark.

  "How was your first day back at it?" Isabella asked kindly, offering to place his boots by the fire for him.

  Kit shrugged. "Not much to report," he said dismissively.

  "Well, how did you feel out there? Did your cough give you any trouble?"

  "My cough's fine," he snapped. "Always was. And no, it didn't give me any trouble, and you know why? Because I was out in the fresh air, like God intended. The air is better medicine than any of your fancy syrups."

  "Kit, what's gotten into you?" Isabella asked, appalled at her husband's bad mood.

  "Nothing," he grumbled, taking a seat by the fire and picking up his pipe.

  "You're not going to smoke, are you?" Isabella asked. "Not in the house, Kit, I won't allow it."

  He slammed the pipe back down. "You don't get to decide what's allowed in this house, Isabella! I decide. And I've had enough of you lecturing me about my heath, and my habits as well. It's not your place to tell me what to do."

  Isabella stood there with her mouth hanging open, hardly able to believe this bad attitude Kit had come home with. "It's not my place to worry about my husband, is that what you're saying? I'm not allowed to worry that you're keeping well, or to be concerned when you're ill? Is that it? I've never heard anything so ridiculous."

  "You don't need to worry about me. Always making problems when there aren't any."

  "Kit, I thought we were past all of this." Isabella threw her hands up in the air. "I thought I'd broken through to you a little, chipped away at some of your ignorance. Now it looks like we're back at square one! Why are you talking like this?"

  "No reason."

  "Did Jedediah say something to you?"

  Kit turned his head and stared at her for a moment, his eyes dark and heavy. "I am able to make my mind up about things, and form my own opinions without another man telling me what to do, you know. I was in charge of Jedediah down on the battlefield, remember, not the other way around!"

  "Yeah, well it sounds like he's gotten to you. Started filling your head with all this superstitious nonsense again." Isabella walked to the other side of the room and began to fold some laundry.

  "He did tell me something interesting," Kit said. Now that he was worked up he was speaking without thinking, and he immediately wished he hadn't said that.

  Isabella put down the sheet she was holding. "Oh, did he just? What's that then?"

  "He says it looks funny, you out in the world, having a job."

  Kit turned his head away so that her reaction was hidden from him. He knew he'd said the wrong thing and he was ashamed, sorry that he'd brought up this argument again.

  "So that's what this is all about, is it?" Isabella asked, her voice flat and heavy. She let out a bitter laugh and threw a handful of laundry into the wicker basket. "I knew it. You still can't get used to the idea that I might be my own person, with my own life and ambitions. I'm not just an extension of you, Kit. Not everything I do reflects on you, either. In one way you are so independent, and oblivious to the ways of the world, yet in another way you care too much what everyone else is thinking and doing!"

  Kit just stood there in silence.

  "Why do you worry about what others think?" Isabella asked. "Why does it matter if they think it's odd that I work, or that I'm a doctor? I'm helping to save people's lives, Kit. And I think that's a darn sight more important than some idle gossip!"

  Kit hung his head. "I know," he said quietly. "You're right. It is."

  "What does it matter what Jedediah says, anyway? You pay too much mind to his opinion." Isabella shook her head. "If anyone should change their job, it should be you, Kit! So that you can keep some distance
from that man."

  "Jedediah's alright," Kit said softly. "I served alongside him. I'm not gonna just cut him out of my life."

  "Keeping some distance from him might be a good thing," Isabella said. "Or am I overstepping my mark again, telling you what you can and can't do?"

  Kit sighed. "Isabella, I didn't mean what I said..."

  "Yes you did," she shot back quickly. She walked out of the room for a minute to put the laundry basket away, and when she returned she was far more demure. "Are you ashamed of me, Kit?" she asked, in a voice that was so quiet it was barely audible.

  Kit spun around in surprise. "No," he returned, in a quiet voice to match hers. "I'm not ashamed of you; why would you think...?"

  "You talk like I embarrass you, that you feel foolish to have a wife that goes to work."

  He sat back and sighed gently. "It's myself that I feel embarrassed of, Isabella, not you."

  She frowned, then walked over to his chair, balancing on the left arm. "Why, Kit? You've nothing to feel embarrassed of."

  "It's my dang arm," he said, in a voice that was grave and far-away sounding.

  Isabella tensed a little. It was rare for Kit to bring up his injury, and though she dearly wished to discuss the subject, to let Kit know that it didn't make him any less of a man to her, any less whole, she knew she had to tread carefully. "We've already fought enough tonight," she thought to herself. "I don't wish for this conversation to become any worse than it already has. It's time to keep the peace now."

  So she waited for him to keep speaking, not wishing to prod him. Kit was the sort of man who needed space to come round to things in his own time. If you rushed him, or tried to push him, he only closed up, became more set in his ways. More stubborn. Isabella knew this by now, so she sat, balanced on the armrest, hoping he would fill the silence if she let him.

  "That's what I'm embarrassed about, Isabella. Embarrassed that I'm not a whole person any more, that people will see you out working and assume I can't take care of you."