Trail of Longing (Hot on the Trail Book 3)

by Merry Farmer

  “This is Russell Sandifer,” Dean said.

  “Doctor Russell Sandifer,” Russ added. He broke away from Dean to cross to Mrs. Sutton. “It’s a pleasure to meet such comely travelers here in the barren wilderness.”

  Mrs. Sutton’s mouth was still open and she glanced from Dean to Russ and back again. It was only when Russ took her hand and bent to raise it to his lips that she shook herself and took a breath. The first word out of her mouth was, “Prison?”

  “It was not a prison,” Dean corrected. He could barely speak through his anger. The weight that had lifted from his soul during the time he’d spent with Emma crashed down on him. His voice was a low burr, heated by wounds that had just been ripped open.

  “Well, it was a military brig,” Russ laughed. He turned his attention to Emma. “The colonel of the regiment we were serving with caught him for desertion.”

  Mrs. Sutton squeaked. Katie blinked, her ginger brows knitting in confusion. Aiden narrowed his eyes as he looked from Dean to Russ. And Emma… Emma lowered her eyes and set her supper plate aside as though she’d lost her appetite.

  “I did not desert,” Dean spoke up. A thread of desperation worked its way through his gut. Emma had to believe him. “I would never desert.”

  “And yet, you did,” Russ said with a smile and a self-satisfied laugh. “We found him packing his satchel in the middle of the night after a particularly fierce battle. Chancellorsville, it was. Terrible casualties. I spent a day and a night up to my elbows in gore too horrible to mention in female hearing. Dean as well.” He swayed toward Emma and Mrs. Sutton as if he were enacting a fairy tale. “Poor Dean here couldn’t take the pressure. He left the surgical tent in tears like a river. Complete mental breakdown. I tried to explain to the lieutenant who found him preparing to flee that the strain had become too much for his fragile mentality, but—”

  “I was not fleeing,” Dean insisted through his teeth. “I was searching for Sergeant Proctor’s Bible. He asked me to record his death in its pages and send it home to his wife.”

  Russ fixed him with a condescending smile. “And so I told the colonel.”

  “You did no such thing. You….” He pressed his lips closed over his defense, glancing to Emma. Her face was beet red now and, if he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes were watery. He would not disrespect her by arguing with the likes of Russ over events that were too painful for even the most stalwart soul to relive.

  But when he said nothing, Russ continued. “Poor Dean. He was incapable of continuing his work in the surgery after that. The colonel had him kept under guard until he was able to determine the best course of action. They weren’t sure whether to court-martial him on desertion charges or to dismiss him for being mentally unsound. I, on the other hand, continued on with surgeries, patching up our boys in blue with stalwart diligence.”

  There was no way he could prove that Russ was lying spectacularly, but if Russ had valiantly gone on to do his duty as a military surgeon after Dean was dismissed, Dean would dance a jig in his long johns.

  “So… so you are a doctor as well?” Mrs. Sutton asked, two steps behind.

  “Yes indeed, ma’am.” Russ gave her a deep nod. “Dean and I were at medical school together. Why, we’ve been close friends ever since then. I’m certain he’s told you about me, no?”

  “No.” Mrs. Sutton let out a breath. She glanced between Russ and Dean. Dean could practically smell the gears turning in her mind as she worked to figure the situation out.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m glad to be reunited with my friend.” Russ stepped over to Dean and thumped him on the back once more. “It will be just like old times, won’t it?”

  Dean certainly hoped not. His skin crawled under his shirt where Russ’s hand rested.

  “Two doctors in one wagon train,” Aiden spoke into the heavy silence that followed. “How lucky we are.” He raised his fiddle to his chin and began a slow, mournful tune. There was something ominous about it.

  “If ever there was a time to fall ill, I suppose it’s now,” Katie agreed. She peeked at Emma, raised a brow.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” her father muttered in his thick Irish accent from his stool to the side of the scene. He squeezed his concertina into sound, joining Aiden’s song.

  They played undisturbed for a verse. Emma finally lifted her eyes to peek at Katie. A sliver of relief helped Dean to let out his breath. At least Emma had found a friend to steer her through the confusion. Perhaps there was a way to ford through the infuriating situation after all.

  “Dr. Sandifer.” Mrs. Sutton brightened and sat straighter. “Won’t you join us for supper? Or at least what’s left of it.”

  Dean’s heart sank. He knew the look in the woman’s eyes. It was a look he had seen directed at him for the past three weeks and more. Nothing about the situation was remotely good. Even Emma sensed it. She tore her eyes away from her conspiratorial exchange with Katie to stare at her mother in alarm.

  “I’ve just finished my supper,” Russ said. Hope sizzled through Dean’s blood. The corner of Emma’s mouth twitched as if she might smile in relief. “But I would be more than happy to sit and visit with you,” Russ went on, ruining all hope. “I’m always delighted to make new acquaintances. Particularly when we can swap stories about the same people.”

  Dean winced. There was an entire volume of stories involving him that Russ could twist and warp and tell in any way he saw fit. The man was a nightmare, but he had a way with people that Dean had never quite mastered. Any chance of a smooth and pleasant journey was gone. He would need to spend the rest of the trip on his toes and then some just to prevent his reputation from being decimated the way it had been back East.

  “There’s something I don’t like about that man, and never have,” Katie voiced the thought that Emma had been unable to put into words for two days.

  The two of them walked together beside the Boyle family wagon, children and music all around them. The cheerful playing of Aiden and his brothers and the squeals of energetic children were just the thing to mask a conversation that slipped as close to gossip as Emma would allow herself.

  “Dr. Sandifer is… bold,” she said, unable to find a more polite word to express the things she had quickly come to think about him.

  Katie laughed. “There’s a word for it. Presumptuous is another one. And there’s more where that one came from, each more colorful than the last. Yet, I can’t tell you a single thing that he’s done wrong since we set out from Independence. Other than making an occasional fuss with that medicine of his.”

  “Well, he’s….” Emma paused with her lips parted, then let out a breath. Maggie, the youngest of the Boyle girls, toddled up to Emma’s side, lifting her arms. Emma scooped the girl up and held her as she walked, but even the burst of innocence couldn’t settle her soul.

  “It would be so much easier if Dr. Sandifer wore black and did bad things,” Katie went on. “Then I could tell you why I don’t like the look of him.”

  Emma hummed. “He’s been as polite as could be. He greets my family each morning and asks how we passed the night. He addresses Mother with respect and even asked her opinion about politics yesterday.”

  “Well, my mam doesn’t like him, and Mam is a corking judge of character,” Katie said.

  “Dean doesn’t like him either.” It was the biggest strike against him that Emma could come up with in the end.

  “Yes,” Katie agreed, nodding and chewing her lip. “In spite of having known him for years, if what the two of them are saying is right. Your man seems to be as good a judge of character as Mam.”

  Emma flushed and stroked Maggie’s head as it lay against her shoulder. “Dr. Meyers is not ‘my man,’” she murmured. In fact, she’d hardly had two words with him since Dr. Sandifer showed up, much less a kiss.

  Emma lifted her chin and glanced around, searching Dean out. She missed him. She longed to walk with him and speak with him about gentle things of the fu
ture, as she had at the way station. She longed to kiss him, to feel his arms around her once more, his hands inching to where they shouldn’t have been.

  As the heated memory of their first kiss rolled back to her, she spotted him several wagons ahead. He was walking with an elderly woman, holding her arms and watching her steps as though assessing a complaint she had made. He peeked up in time to meet Emma’s eyes. Her heart blossomed with affection, but the strained smile Dean gave her brought her crashing down before she could reach joy.

  “If he’s not your man, then I’m not a ginger,” Katie laughed.

  Emma sighed, eyes still glued to Dean. “We haven’t spoken in days.”

  “That’s nothing to go worrying about,” Katie insisted. “Your man has had his hands full treating the sick and the lame in our wagon train since we came across you.”

  “Yes, he takes his calling seriously.” Which is why I could never believe half the things Dr. Sandifer said about him, she added to herself. Maggie had fallen asleep in her arms, as exhausted as Emma felt over everything.

  “Mrs. O’Donnell says he’s a fine doctor,” Katie chatted on. “He took one look at her swollen hands and knew just what it was. Told her to make a poultice to wrap her hands with when she wasn’t using them and to keep them cool if she could. That was yesterday morning, and today she’s been able to thread a needle for the first time in months. A man like that knows his doctoring.”

  Emma paused as a niggling thought hit her. Katie stopped next to her as the Boyles’ wagon rattled on. There were enough people crowding up behind them that Emma shook herself, resettled the sleeping child in her arms, and started forward again before asking, “Why is there so much sickness and infirmity in a wagon train that has been traveling with a doctor all this time?”

  Katie’s brow flew up and her eyes sparkled with thought. “I hadn’t thought much of it. Me and mine have been hale and hearty since long before we left Ireland, apart from falling asleep on our feet.” She nodded at Maggie with a fond grin. “Those of us that survived the Famine were of the strongest stock, God rest the souls of those we lost,” she added at the end.

  “I suppose,” Emma went on, “but Dean was always busy treating people in the wagon train we started out with, and after the first few weeks, few people were sick.”

  Katie tilted her head to the side to consider. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen a great deal of Dr. Sandifer hovering over sick folks. He’s got this medicine, you see. It—”

  Whatever it was had to wait as they were interrupted by the rich bass of Dr. Sandifer himself. “Ladies, what a splendid day for walking, don’t you think?”

  Emma flinched and gasped, hugging Maggie tighter. The tiny girl stirred, but slept on. Shame over talking about the man—even if she still didn’t like him—washed through Emma. She twisted to look at him, only to have him march boldly up to her side with a smile.

  “Dr. Sandifer,” Katie said, looking around Emma to nod at him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  “I’ve come to keep Miss Sutton company,” he answered without looking at Katie.

  A tight ball of frustration gnawed at Emma’s stomach. There was nothing wrong with his statement. So why did it feel as though he had insulted Katie?

  “Yes, it’s about time someone kept the poor girl company,” Katie answered with enough sting in her words to prove she was offended. “Can’t have her wandering the mighty prairie all alone, without a friend in the world, can we?”

  “You are so very right.” Dr. Sandifer nodded, missing the barb.

  His gaze skipped forward for a moment. Emma followed it to see what he saw. Ahead, Dean was watching them. The apologetic smile he’d worn earlier had melted into a stiff frown. Her heart squeezed in sympathy for him, all the more so when she noticed Dr. Sandifer’s smile grow. She did her best to will Dean to look at her, to meet her eyes again, but he turned his attention to the woman he was helping.

  “Odd man, that Meyers,” Dr. Sandifer said. “He never did go out for parties and revels with us at medical school, or once we went to work for the Union. The man doesn’t know how to have fun.”

  “Sobriety is a virtue, Dr. Sandifer,” Emma replied, barely above a whisper.

  “Call me Russ. I insist,” he replied in a voice loud enough to wake the dead, much less a sleeping child. Russ held his elbow out to her with a familiarity that sent prickles of dread down Emma’s spine.

  She wasn’t about to address him by his given name or to take his offered arm. As innocently as she could, she pretended not to notice the elbow sticking out at her as she hugged Maggie closer. To her other side, Katie snorted. Russ ignored her.

  “If it were up to me, Emma,” Russ went on, inviting himself to use her given name, “I would take you to all the finest, most exciting parties in all of the grandest cities in the Union and the Confederacy. You would enjoy yourself so much that you’d begin to dream of champagne and chocolates.”

  “I don’t think I would like that very much at all,” she murmured. She could see herself being trundled off to one loud, tedious rout after another after another in crowded cities filled with noise and chaos—just as her mother had always wanted to show her off in New York. The prairie stretching around her suddenly seemed like the grandest paradise God had created. The lonely way station and Dean were all the dreams she needed. “No,” she smiled, “I’m happy here, just as I am.”

  “Nonsense.” Russ brushed her statement away like dust. “You haven’t lived until you’ve attended a military ball in our nation’s capital. Why, I can see you in fine silks, your hair done up with feathers and gems, right now.”

  “I can see our dear Emma wearing cotton and calico, herding a passel of young ones around a quaint cottage in the country,” Katie said.

  Emma smiled. Yes, I can see that too. With a dark-haired, handsome doctor by my side.

  Russ huffed in irritation. “Why don’t you give that grubby child to someone else and come walk with me, Emma?”

  “I….” Anger choked off Emma’s words. She swallowed and pressed her cheek to Maggie’s head, sending Katie a wary look. “I couldn’t possibly,” she answered Russ.

  “Well.” Russ sniffed and tugged at the hem of his jacket. “Children should be seen and not heard. That’s why one employs a nanny—so lovely mothers can attend the theater and all the finest balls, wouldn’t you say, Emma?” Russ pressed her.

  “What’s this about a ball?”

  Emma winced as her mother marched up to join their group.

  “Ah, Elizabeth,” Russ greeted her with formality that Emma knew would have her father considering pistols at dawn. “I was just telling your lovely daughter that nothing in this world is quite so delightful as a military ball in full splendor.”

  “Oh, how wonderful.” Her mother clapped her hands and pressed them to her chest.

  Emma looked up the line of wagons to Dean, begging him to meet her eyes and smile and tell her everything would be all right. He was deep in consultation with the old woman now, though. She smiled up at him and showed him her gnarled hand as though he’d just made it new. Dean returned the woman’s smile. Emma’s heart swelled with pride and wrung with longing at the same time.

  “Wouldn’t you enjoy that, Emma?” her mother asked.

  Emma blinked and turned her attention back to her walking companions. The sense that she’d missed something coiled sharp in her gut. “I’m sorry?” she asked, rubbing Maggie’s back again.

  Her mother heaved an exasperated sigh. “Put that child away, dear. Dr. Sandifer… I’m sorry, Russ.” She gave a girlish laugh. “Russ deserves your full attention. He has said that he would have been extremely honored to have had the chance to escort you to one of the military balls back East.”

  Emma glanced from her mother to Russ, discomfort crawling down her spine. There was nothing she could say but, “Thank you.”

  “Fancy that,” Katie added from her other side, a touch of acid in her voice. “What a fine thing
to be hypothetically invited to a possible ball that may or may not have taken place months ago and miles away.”

  Emma caught herself giggling. She pressed her fingertips to her lips to wipe away the grin that remained. Katie was wicked. She was also right.

  Ahead, Dean glanced up as though he’d heard her laughter. Their eyes met and sunshine poured through Emma’s chest. Dean’s eyes pleaded silently for forgiveness and escape. It was madness for her to imagine she could hear the words he was thinking, but just then she could have sworn he was telling her he was sorry for abandoning her to Russ’s company, he wished he could walk with her, but duty called. She made up her mind to forgive him for everything right then.

  “Have you known my good friend Dean long?” Russ asked.

  Something about his tone had Emma immediately on the alert. “We—”

  “He has been traveling with us since our wagon train left Independence weeks ago,” her mother answered over her. “Such a kind and helpful young man.”

  “Yes, he does give that impression, doesn’t he?” Russ said through a tight smile.

  “He was so kind as to treat Emma’s ankle when it was sprained during the most terrifying storm ten or so days ago,” her mother went on. “He even stayed behind at the way station where this wagon train found us to be sure that she would heal properly. I had hoped….”

  The way her mother trailed off filled Emma with a sense of doom. She peeked ahead once more. Dean was talking to the old woman again. He’d shifted to escort her with her hand tucked in his elbow, nodding respectfully at her conversation.

  “It’s been days since he last spoke to my dear Emma,” her mother reflected, as if speaking her thoughts aloud.

  “How callous of him,” Russ took up where her words faded. “If a gentleman is going to show his attentions to a lady, he should continue to show his admiration at all times.”

  “Yes.” Her mother brightened. “Yes, I quite agree with you, Dr. Sa—Russ. I quite agree.”

  “You would never find me behaving with such disrespect toward a woman,” Russ went on. “Particularly one as beautiful and charming as your Emma.”