Hope In Cripple Creek

by Sara R. Turnquist

  Her stack of papers dwindled, and she curled her back in a stretch. The muscles protested but relaxed into their natural position, now soothed. Movement just beyond the walls of the schoolhouse drew her attention from the final papers. Who would be outside at this hour? One of the troublemakers up to no good? Or did one of the students return to collect something left behind? Katherine’s eyes scanned the schoolroom as she stood and moved toward the window.

  Sweeping the lace curtain to the side afforded Katherine a complete view of the front of the schoolhouse. As she gazed out to the yard beyond, she spotted a carriage moving closer. Who? She squinted to focus her eyes and could just make out the features of the figure–Timothy!

  The rest of the papers could wait. Smiling, she grabbed for her shawl. No doubt, Timothy had something fun planned for her. Over the last several days, he had made every effort to plan special rendezvous and outings for the two of them. And so she found herself in eager anticipation of where he would pop up each day.

  Stepping out onto the porch, she met Timothy as he pulled up to the door.

  “Good day, Miss Matthews.” He tipped his hat.

  He wasn’t the most handsome man she had ever met. Not that he was hard on the eyes. But he might well be the most gracious. “Good day, Reverend.” She offered him her brightest smile.

  “I wondered if you would be agreeable to an afternoon ride with me,” he said, indicating the seat next to him.

  “With you? Why of course I would.” A cool autumn breeze blew across the yard, and she wrapped her shawl tighter around herself. The rustle of leaves being picked up and scattered tickled her ears as she pulled the door to the schoolhouse closed.

  Timothy hopped out of the carriage and, walking around to the opposite side, offered his hand to help her up. Katherine slid her hand into his, grateful for his assistance. How good it was to be out with him again! A gentleman above all else, she felt comfortable and safe in his presence. But also cherished.

  Once she was in her seat, Timothy disappeared. The carriage jerked to the side a bit as he hoisted himself up into his seat. He gripped the reins and urged the horses forward. As they got underway, a silence fell between them. But not one of those uncomfortable pauses. Katherine rather enjoyed it. With Timothy, the silence didn’t seem so awkward. So she watched the familiar scenery and rested back against the gently rocking carriage seat, taking it all in—both her surroundings and his presence.

  After some time, Timothy broke the stillness between them. “How are the students treating you?”

  How to answer that? She didn’t wish to disturb their afternoon with tales of the troublesome students. Nor did she want to seem like a braggart and harp solely on her successes. “I’d say fair to good.”

  “Only fair to good?”

  So he wanted to hear more. Katherine sighed. “I have a couple of students who pose discipline problems, but we’re working things out, finding our way to a better understanding of one another.”

  “That sounds promising.” Timothy’s voice was so confident and firm. Did he have that kind of faith in her?

  Her heart warmed. But he was her overseer. Shouldn’t she reassure him? “Even so, these few students don’t create serious issues day to day.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” His voice softened. Could that comment be more about his consideration for her than for the classroom being well run? Or was she mistaken? Perhaps he did think after her ability to handle the children.

  “I do think, despite our small setbacks, that the students are all learning.”

  Timothy nodded. “If you need help with another science lesson on reptiles, just let me know.”

  She smiled at that, but only briefly. The memories of their last field trip were not altogether pleasant. Unbidden, they unfolded in her mind. A small cavern, her difficult breaths, Timothy’s concerned eyes . . .

  “Hey,” Timothy said, his voice gentle. Did he notice the change in her mood? “I didn’t mean to . . . ”

  She drew in a ragged breath, coming back to the present. “It’s all right,” she lied, turning to look at him.

  He took a hand off the reins for a moment to clasp her small fingers in his.

  Smiling at his gesture, she squeezed his hand. He was a good friend. She hoped that wasn’t all.

  They continued to ride like that for a few minutes, until he needed his hand back to slow the horses. They neared the creek, one of her favorite spots. How did he know?

  “Why are we stopping?”

  “Because I have a surprise for you.” He reached behind the seat and pulled out a basket.

  “A picnic!” Katherine clapped. There were few things she enjoyed more than picnics.

  He jumped out of the carriage and came around. With his hands on her waist, he helped her down. Once on the ground, they were face-to-face. The moment seemed to draw out. She held her breath. Was he going to kiss her? Would she let him?

  But, true to his nature, he was a perfect gentleman. After a handful of seconds, he removed his hands and offered her his arm, lifting the picnic basket with his other hand. Taking his arm, she allowed him to lead her to a spot near the creek that offered a nice view of the mountains in the distance. One of her favorite places as a child, it stole her breath anew.

  Timothy busied himself spreading out a blanket. He then brought the basket over. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said as they settled down onto the blanket. “But I took the liberty of asking your mother about some of your favorite dishes.”

  She caught herself before her mouth dropped open. Her heart did a little flip-flop. “Mind? I’m impressed. My favorite dishes. My favorite picnic spot . . . ”

  “Your favorite picnic spot? I brought you here because it’s my favorite.”

  “Oh. I guess that’s one more thing we have in common.” She offered him another smile. Was it her imagination, or did his face color just a bit as their eyes met?

  “Now I can’t take credit for the food. I had some help from Mrs. Abby at the boarding house.”

  What did that matter? Katherine’s mouth watered at the pleasant smells coming from the basket now in close proximity to her. “I can’t wait.”

  He uncovered the basket and set out the food.

  Katherine watched him, thinking of how perfect this afternoon out truly was. I could get used to this.

  * * *

  Katherine grit her teeth against the bumping of the carriage, no longer a gentle rocking. Pain tore through her at each rut they hit in the road. One glance over at Timothy’s stony face told her volumes.

  Reaching out a shaky hand toward his arm, she attempted to calm him. “Timothy, I’m truly all right, I . . . ”

  “We’re almost there,” he dismissed her. “You’ll be fine.” He said this more to himself than to her, she suspected. Did he think he was responsible for her little spill down the creek bank? If only there were something she could say.

  Drawing the horses to a halt, he jumped out of the carriage and raced over to where she sat. Reaching up, he positioned his hands first one way and then another, seeming unsure how best to get her down. This could take forever.

  Biting her cheek against the pain, she leaned toward him and all but fell into his arms. She couldn’t help the yelp that escaped her lips.

  The crestfallen look on Timothy’s face was almost more than she could bear. She was stung anew. But not by her injuries, by her heart.

  They were at the clinic door in a few of Timothy’s long strides. He fiddled with the latch underneath her for a moment before the door gave way. As he stepped into the clinic, Wyatt rose from his desk.

  As he laid eyes on them, Wyatt leapt into action. Moving farther into the clinic, he indicated Timothy should lay Katherine on the examination table. He did so, placing her as if she were made of the finest china.

  “Tell me what happened,” Wyatt barked as his hands moved over Katherine. He checked her pupils and grasped at her wrist.

  This was certainly not necess
ary. Katherine opened her mouth to speak as she tried to wrest her hand away from Wyatt’s, but Timothy spoke before she could utter a sound.

  “We were walking by the creek and Katherine’s foot found a hole in the ground. She slid down the bank and landed on her side.” The distress in his eyes and in his voice would be evident to anyone.

  Another pang. Why did he feel so responsible? It was her clumsiness that caused this.

  Wyatt nodded, frowning. “What hurts?” he looked at Katherine.

  She tried to sit up. There must be a way to put an end to this foolishness. “I’m fine. Timothy is just overly concerned . . . ”

  Wyatt pressed her back down onto the table. “That may be, but I insist you let me examine your injuries. What hurts?”

  Katherine bit at her lip. She did not want Wyatt examining her. Hatred and unforgiveness filled her. It was almost a tangible thing within her as she gazed up into his steel blue eyes. No, she did not want his hands on her for any reason.

  She shifted her focus toward Timothy. Would he help her? No, none would be found there. One look at his guilty face told her she wasn’t getting out of here without complying. She needed to endure this for his sake.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath and faced Wyatt again. His eyes were hard on hers. If she could have pulled back, she would have. But she gathered her wits and met his gaze. “It’s my left ankle, where I stepped in the hole, and my right side, where I landed.”

  Wyatt stepped to the foot of the table. As his hands moved over the already swollen area, Katherine grimaced in pain. Did he have to be so rough?

  Timothy, still standing on the opposite side of the table near her head, reached for her hand. She appreciated what comfort he offered her.

  Wyatt prodded the injury, maneuvering the ankle at the joint, testing the integrity of the bones. “I don’t think anything is broken, just sprained,” he concluded.

  Katherine nodded, letting out a breath, thankful his examination was over. She didn’t think she could stand much more of his inspection.

  Wyatt moved back toward her head, but his eyes sought out Timothy. “I’m going to have to ask you to excuse us while I examine her ribs.”

  Katherine’s eyes shot over to Timothy. He couldn’t leave her! She would never have agreed to come if she had known there was a chance she would be alone with Wyatt for even a second. But now she felt stuck. What could she do that wouldn’t upset Timothy further?

  Timothy looked at her, apparently not reading the trepidation in her eyes. He nodded his assent to Wyatt. But he did take a moment to lean over Katherine, running a hand over her hair. “I’ll be right outside.”

  She nodded, but that was of little comfort to her, as she would be left in here with Wyatt.

  Timothy lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers.

  Katherine smiled up at him, her heart sent into rapid pacing by his caress. He laid her hand back down by her side. She could do nothing but watch him step outside the clinic doors. And then she was alone with Wyatt. Her eyes narrowed as they landed on him.

  Wyatt followed Timothy and locked the door behind him, pulling the curtains closed as well. Then he turned back to Katherine.

  “I need you to disrobe down to your chemise,” he said, walking toward his washbasin to clean his hands.

  Katherine’s heart stopped. “Absolutely not.”

  Wyatt whirled back around, shock evident on his face. Perhaps he was not accustomed to outright refusals from his patients. “What?”

  “I have no intention of disrobing for you, Wyatt Sullivan,” she said as she struggled to a sitting position, leaning heavily on her left arm.

  “It’s Dr. Sullivan, and I need to examine you to make sure there are no internal injuries or broken ribs,” he said firmly.

  She glared at him. Every part of her flushed with heat. “Well then, Dr. Sullivan, I shall thank you for your services and be on my way. I’m certain everything is just fine,” she returned, her tone infused with determination.

  Katherine managed to sit, but if she wanted to get off the table on the side opposite where he was, she would need to lean on her right arm. When she did so, pain shot through her torso and she lost her balance and fell off the table.

  Wyatt was by her side in an instant, lifting her back onto the table. He swore, cursing her stubbornness. “You’re just fine, are you?” he asked, gruffly.

  She bit her lip against the pain. Anger toward him still burned within her. But she became aware that a tingling sensation coursed through her as well. And it was not altogether unpleasant. It could not be a reaction to his closeness. He had no right to treat her this way! That was the truth of it.

  “Here, let me help you,” he said. His tone did not invite comment or argument.

  His hands were on the top of her dress then. She was trapped. Her body needed treatment. So, she lay without uttering another word as her face heated. How could she meet his eyes? Turning her head the opposite direction, she shut her eyes against the reality of what was happening.

  Wyatt opened her dress down just past her waist and then moved away to wash his hands again. She prayed it would be over soon. When he returned, he did not make her take the top of her dress off, rather he slid his hands under the fabric to feel along her ribs.

  “I’m sorry, but this will be uncomfortable,” he said more gently than she would have expected.

  He was right. Pain shot through her upper body. Katherine shut her eyes, refusing to cry out in his presence.

  Wyatt was a gentleman. His expert hands moved over the part of her torso that required checking, yet he did not wander into areas that need remain private. Still, it was disconcerting to have his hands on her body with naught but her thin chemise separating her flesh from the warmth of his hands. And there were sensations that arose in her unbidden. Feelings she would rather not name or give credence to.

  “Nothing is broken,” he said after some moments. “But you do have some bruised ribs. They’ll be sore for several days, so I need to show you how to wrap them.”

  She nodded. All of the fight in her had dissipated, and she was prepared to focus on what needed to be done to repair her injuries and be done with this whole ordeal.

  The next several minutes were spent with Wyatt showing her how to wrap her torso to support her ribs before he put a wrap on. Katherine then secured her dress before Timothy was admitted and Wyatt wrapped her ankle.

  “You need to use a walking stick for a few days to take some of the stress off that ankle while it heals. And I cannot emphasize enough how important it is that you rest as much as possible so your ribs can heal.” Wyatt walked over to his medicine cabinet and grabbed a glass jar of herbs, scooping some into a small container. “Take this and brew it into a tea. It’s the best thing I’ve found for pain relief. Come back when you run out.” He handed her the container.

  You won’t see me back here. No matter how much pain I’m in. I’d rather endure it than come to you for help again. Between the confusing emotions and the impropriety of the situation, she could not imagine it.

  “Thank you, Wyatt,” Timothy said, offering his hand. “I can’t tell you how terrible I feel about all of this. If I hadn’t suggested we walk so close to the bank . . . I feel responsible.”

  Then there was Timothy. Sweet Timothy. How to help him know it was not his fault?

  “Yes,” Wyatt said, waving him off. “Let’s not have any outings for a couple of weeks at least.”

  No more outings? Just who did Wyatt think he was to dictate Katherine’s life? But she did not speak up. She had tired of this whole ordeal and did not wish to prolong it.

  Timothy nodded.

  Katherine turned her attention to Timothy, reaching for his arm to help her off the table. Wyatt’s hands were on her back and arm, assisting Timothy in getting her down. It made her all the more eager to get out of his clinic. Not because she despised his touch, as much as she wanted that to be t
he case, because it stirred something else in her.

  Now that she was off the table, she leaned on Timothy with her left arm, protecting her right side. They began to make their way to the out.

  Wyatt opened the door and they exited the clinic. As she stepped past Wyatt, she swore to herself this would be the last time she came to the clinic voluntarily.

  * * *

  Katherine glanced at the watch pinned near the collar of her dress. She shook her head. The day seemed to have passed without her noticing. More and more there wasn’t the time for the things she needed to do. Nevertheless, the clock dictated it was time for math. Drills today.

  Standing and straightening her skirt, Katherine cleared her throat. “Class, take out your slates and put everything else away. It’s time for our multiplication exam.”

  Katherine stepped around her desk, leaning on the sturdy surface it provided. Several weeks had passed since her tumble down the bank. The injuries she had sustained continued to heal.

  The rustle of papers and the gentle thump of books being closed told her the students obeyed. As the shuffling died down, she saw the students’ desks bore nothing more than their slates and chalk. Good. They were learning to listen and follow directions. Moving toward the blackboard, she lifted the chalk, smooth and small in her hand, and began marking out the equations her students needed to answer.

  As she continued to cut through the nothingness of the chalkboard, her concentration was interrupted by a knock on the door. Who would call upon the class at this hour? A concerned parent? After glancing behind herself for a moment, she turned her attention back to the board to write the final two equations. Only then did she make her way to the back of the class to answer the door, wiping her hands off on the chalkboard dustcloth as she went.

  With the door in front of her, she took a breath and gathered herself to her full height in preparation to receive whoever it might be. Intrusions during the school day were quite uncommon. With a hand on the door latch, she pulled the door open to reveal the interloper. She found herself face-to-face with Timothy. Surprised and a little concerned, she fought to keep a neutral face. Why would he disturb her in the middle of the school day?