As he waited, Bryan's gaze slipped up to Claire's face. She watched him, pain pinching her lips. But her eyes locked in his. Was that trust he saw there?
He brushed the hair from her forehead. "You'll feel better soon."
"I know," she whispered.
Heat flooded his chest. When had he started to care so much about this woman?
"Here, Doc." Malcom knelt on Claire's other side with another quilt.
"Help me spread it over her."
The boy obeyed eagerly, although it took several tries before he had the blanket covering both her legs and abdomen at the same time.
Bryan settled the cover at her chin and couldn't help brushing a thumb over her cheeks. So soft. Cool, with no clamminess.
Her eyes never wavered from his face, and he forced himself to give her a smile. "Let's see if the bleeding's stopped."
Grasping her hand in both of his, he eased the cloth away. Only a few drops of blood pooled at the surface of the cut. Almost ready to stitch.
After finding a single spot on the cloth that wasn't blood-soaked, he reapplied the pressure and reached for his bag. There was no way he'd stitch the wound without giving her something for the pain, although he had a feeling she would object.
"I need you to take a sip of this. Can you hold it while I raise your head?"
Wariness took over her eyes as he held up the brown-tinted glass bottle.
"Please."
She nibbled her lip but finally wiggled her good hand out from under the blanket and reached up for the laudanum. Blood covered the fingers, lay imbedded under her nails, and ran in dry streaks over her palm and down her arm.
"One good sip." Too bad he couldn't measure it out, but he just didn't have enough hands. An approximate dose would be all right.
He slipped his hand into her silky hair to raise her head. The delicate muscles in her neck rippled as she drank. She sank back against the folded quilt, releasing a long breath as she relaxed.
"Can you keep the pressure on your hand while I ready the sutures?" He watched her for any sign of hesitation, but she merely slipped her hand under his and pressed the cloth.
His skin tingled where her fingers touched his. What was wrong with him? He'd never had a physical reaction to a patient before. Not good. Of course, he'd never had a patient as striking as Claire Sullivan either.
By the time he had his tools laid out and the silk sutures threaded through the needle, Claire's eyes were drifting shut.
"I'll take it now." He pried her fingers from the bloody flour sack and eased the cloth away from the wound. Bleeding had stopped. Thank you, Lord. "You'll feel a sting, but try to relax."
"All right." Her delicate eyelids had closed, and the words came out as a relaxed whisper. It must have been hours since she'd last eaten for such a small amount of laudanum to have this much effect. Or maybe she was especially sensitive to the drug.
He cleaned the wound and stitched as quickly as he could. The sooner this was over, the better. When he had a bandage securely in place, he sat back on his heels and started packing the tools. "That should take care of it. Malcom, where's your mum?"
"Takin' a nap with Sid." The boy kneeled at Miss Sullivan's feet, watching the scene with wide eyes.
"I guess we better wake her. I need to get Miss Sullivan home."
Claire grabbed his arm with her good hand. "No. She needs to rest. I'll finish the stew and go home when I'm done."
He couldn't resist brushing the hair back from her cheek. "Relax. You're in worse shape than Mrs. O'Leary at the moment. Let someone care for you this once."
A strange look flickered across her face. Was it his imagination, or did she lean into his hand where it cupped her cheek? The moment stretched as he watched her watch him, their eyes locked.
"Miss Sullivan, what's happened, lass?" Mrs. O'Leary's words broke through their connection, and Claire's hand slipped from his arm.
Bryan leaned back, removing his hand from Claire's cheek. The loss of her warmth left his skin tingling.
"Just had a little accident. I’m sorry about this mess. I’ll clean it up in a minute." Claire struggled to sit up, and Bryan eased an arm behind her shoulders to help.
"Easy, there." He gripped her shoulder with a staying hand once she sat straight. "That's far enough."
She'd lost some color in her face with the activity. Given a few minutes, she might regain it. Regardless, no way was he letting her stand up and try to walk out of here on her own.
Bryan's eyes wandered the room as his thoughts drifted through the possibilities. He could get a wagon from the livery. That might be his only real option. His gaze focused on Claire's face. "If we move you to a chair, will you stay there until I return?"
Her pretty forehead puckered. "Bryan, I'll be fine. You don't need to fuss."
He gave her his best doctor-in-charge look. "I know you'll be fine if you're sitting in the chair. You lost a lot of blood, it's going to take your body a few days to spring back."
"Just help me up, and you'll see."
Bryan fought to keep a smile from showing as he helped her rise to her feet. Yes, they'd see.
Claire's face had lost all color by the time she stood upright, and she swayed under his grip on her elbows. He shifted his left arm so it wrapped around her back. If he hadn’t been there, she'd have landed flat on the floor again.
"Help me to a chair." She spoke through clenched teeth. Was she angry because he was right? Or struggling that much not to lose consciousness? She was too pitiful for him to gloat.
"Easy, there."
She leaned into him as he helped her to a seat at the table in the corner.
Mrs. O'Leary shuffled behind them, starting to clean up the mess on the floor.
"I'll help you in a moment, Colleen," he called over his shoulder.
"Nonsense. She needs you more. I've had a good rest and need somethin' ta do."
And he could only handle one damsel in distress at a time. Bryan eased Claire into the chair, watching her expression.
She seemed to be holding her breath through the effort, then released it in a long slow leak as she relaxed.
He gathered one of the quilts and tucked it over her lap. "Will you stay here while I go get a wagon? Not try to move?" He searched her eyes for the truth.
She met his gaze, fatigue radiating from those striking eyes.
His chest ached to take away the weariness.
"Yes," she murmured. "Go."
She was too beautiful. His hands craved the feel of her cheek again. He balled his fists to keep them at his side. "I'll be back soon." As soon as he could possibly make it.
The errand turned out to be quicker than he’d expected. He caught sight of Robert Schmidt passing with a delivery from the mercantile, and the man didn't hesitate when Bryan asked for a ride for his patient.
"Sure thing, doc." Robert reined the team to a stop in front of the O'Leary's shanty, and Bryan strode back up the step to gather Claire.
He dropped to one knee in front of her as he peered into her face. She had better color now. "I've found you a ride. Can you walk out to the wagon if I help you?"
"Of course." She turned those bewitching eyes on him, and even in her weakened state, they made his heart seize.
He gripped her elbow as she struggled to her feet.
Colleen O'Leary approached with his doctor's bag, and Claire handed the quilt back to her with a weak smile. "Thank you. I'm sorry for the mess."
"Pshaw." The woman waved the apology aside. "Yer a blessing, lass."
The wagon seat was wide, and as he assisted Claire up into it, she scooted to the middle so he could sit as well. He'd been planning to walk, but…
When he settled onto the bench beside her, Claire inched closer to him. She did know him better than Robert. Still, Bryan was achingly aware of her closeness.
Claire's elbow brushed his arm, and Bryan glanced at her face. Colorless. Was that a tinge of blue around her lips? She looked like she
might fall over any second. He reached his left arm behind her for extra support, and she leaned against him. She fit perfectly there. Her head nestled against his shoulder.
She let out a long breath. Good. As long as she relaxed, her body could heal itself.
If only he could get his own racing heartbeat to slow. What was he going to do about his reaction to this woman?
Chapter Thirteen
Bryan tapped on the door of Mrs. Malmgren's cottage the next morning and waited as a shuffling sounded across the wooden floor inside.
The door opened to reveal Mrs. Malmgren. Her milky eyes appeared to stare in the distance, but she held her chin up, senses alert to identify him.
"Hello, ma'am. It's me, Doc Bryan." He spoke quickly so she wouldn't have to ask.
A smile spread over her face before he finished the ma'am.
"Well my goodness, Doctor. Come in, come in. We just put more loaves in the oven an' was sittin' down for coffee."
Bryan peered inside as the woman shuffled toward the table. Claire stood at the wash sink in the kitchen, one hand deep in a basin of water. What was she doing up and working this morning? He'd told her to rest today. No working for Pearl. No wandering about town helping neighbors.
He was three strides into the room before he stopped himself. Calm down, man. You're over-eager.
"Good morning." The soft voice from the sink focused his attention on the woman. It was hard to tell from the dim light whether her color was better or not, but a soft smile lit her features.
"Morning."
She was beautiful. The white apron strings gathered into a bow at her waist, the loops almost longer than her slender figure. Something was different with her hair today. She'd pinned it up, not tied it back in a loose ribbon like yesterday. As much as he loved that hair, this look accentuated the length and curve of her neck. Stunning…to put it mildly.
A noise to his right pulled Bryan's attention. Mrs. Malmgren settled into a chair at the table, the wooden legs scraping the floor. She leaned back, a smile quirking her mouth. "I guess you came to check on our Clara Lee."
Bryan darted a glance at Claire as he cleared his throat. "Yes, ma'am."
"I don't guess we're used to so much personal service 'round here." The older woman's voice teased. Bryan tried to ignore it, but the heat crept up his neck anyway.
Claire turned from the sink, wiping the fingers of her good hand on her apron. "I'm much better now. Thanks for checking, though. Would you like coffee?"
"Yes, I suppose so. Thanks." Bryan glanced from Claire to her grandmother. What did he do now? More than anything, he'd needed to rest his eyes on the woman and know she was recovering from the loss of blood. Maybe if he played along with the coffee, she'd give him the chance to… To what? Examine her hand? Talk?
Claire approached the stove and held her hand about six inches over the top surface. Only the side of her face was visible from where he stood, but the frown was clear.
She bent and reached for a log from the stack beside the cook stove. With a rag over the handle, she stepped back as far as she possibly could while still gripping the knob. Nudging the handle up, she released the door to the fire box and swung it wide. Her head turned to the side, eyes squinted shut, as she threw the log into the fire and slammed the iron door shut.
Bryan strode to her side and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Are you hurt? Smoke in your eyes?”
She exhaled a long breath, then opened her eyes and straightened. “I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t. Her face had gone pale as newly fallen snow. “Are you light-headed? Come sit in a chair.” He gripped her elbow to assist, but she jerked it back.
“I’m all right. Really. I just…don’t like fire.” She spun away and marched to the work counter.
He stared at her back. Didn’t like fire? He didn’t like radishes, but he didn’t go ashen when he had to look at them.
He eyed the stove. “Do you want me to add another piece of wood?”
“If you’d like.” But there was a hint of relief in her voice.
He loaded two logs into the fire box, then closed the door and locked the handle in place. After moving the coffee pot to the front of the stove, he turned back to watch Claire again.
She picked up a used plate from in front of Mrs. Malmgren and carried it to the wash bucket in the sink. Her steps seemed sturdier, her color much improved.
Mrs. Malmgren seemed to know he was watching her. "Why don't you two young'uns take your coffee to the porch? It's such a pretty day, an' the light's better out there so you can see to put more salve on Clara Lee's hand."
Claire twisted to look at her. "Do you want to come out with us, Gram? We can bring another chair."
"No, honey. I think I might walk next door an' see how Mrs. Walker's gettin' on."
Was the older woman doing some matchmaking? Interesting.
Claire gathered the coffee pot from the stove and filled two mugs. She handed him one.
His work kept him too busy to think about courting anyway. Sure, Alex had done it. But there was more Bryan still wanted to do to help the miners. So many lives left to save. Paying court to a woman would just distract his focus. In fact, he should be out at the mines already. Just a few more minutes here, then he'd head to The Original.
"You coming?" Claire stood in the open doorway, her face shadowed as the morning light framed her silhouette.
"Yes." A few minutes to redress her bandage wouldn't hurt anything.
Mrs. Malmgren followed him out, using her cane to feel for the steps, then gripping the rail to assist her down. "I'll be back after a good visit, unless she's not home," she called over her shoulder. "Clara Lee, don't forget about the bread in the oven."
"I'll get it, Gram. Enjoy yourself."
Bryan studied the twin furrows between Claire's brows, then followed her gaze to her grandmother. "She gets around well."
It was several moments before Claire answered. "There are just so many ways she can get hurt."
A memory flashed through his mind. Her grandmother had been burned that first time he’d met her. Hadn’t it been from a fire at that very cook stove? He hesitated. Should he press the issue? Finally, he asked the question. “You’re worried she’ll burn herself again?”
Her shoulders tensed. “That and everything else.”
Something about fire seemed to hit a nerve with her. Best to leave that topic alone. But should he address the everything else? Remind her she had to allow her grandmother a modicum of independence?
Claire released a sigh. "I know. I need to let her have a little freedom." She turned those piercing brown eyes on him. "I'm trying."
Bryan swallowed. How had she read his mind so completely? He motioned to the rocking chairs. "Do you want to sit?"
He waited for her to settle into the nearest, coffee mug curled in her good right hand. Then he settled in the other chair and sipped his own coffee. "This is good."
A smile touched her lips. "I keep wishing we had milk to make it even better."
"I see you like the finer things in life." He couldn't resist the goading. Although the last thing he wanted to do was awaken her snippy side.
A half-chuckle drifted from her, light and airy, easing Bryan's muscles even as he strained to hear more. "We have a milk cow back home, and she's a great milker. Seems like we're always trying to use up the milk before it spoils."
He allowed his own grin to leak out. "Practical, then."
An easy quiet settled over them as they sipped coffee. He should get on with refreshing her bandage, but… In a minute.
"I plan to make an extra pie this morning and take it to visit your sister between the lunch and dinner crowds."
He raised a brow at her. "She'd love that. You don't have to take food to be welcome, though."
Pink seeped into her cheeks. "I know, but she probably doesn't get much time to bake, working at the clinic and all."
Bryan snapped his fingers. "Actually, she's home today. Her
brother and sister-in-law have come down from their ranch in the mountains, so she's home visiting." He lowered his brows to a wry grin. "Miriam and Leah are thick as thieves."
Something flashed through Claire's eyes. Longing? It disappeared before he could be sure. "I won't bother them today, then."
He leaned forward in the chair. "No, this is the perfect time. If you feel up to it, I mean." What was he doing telling her to make house calls when she should be in bed resting? "I mean, you'd like Leah. She and Gideon are the reason I'm here in Butte. They outfitted the clinic and sent a letter to the president at my school inquiring whether a doctor from my graduating class would be interested in coming to Butte." He eased back in his chair. "I guess they figured a younger man would be more willing to come this far away from the civilized East."
Claire tilted her head as she studied him. "Sounds like a smart woman. I'd like to meet this lady."
He nodded, keeping his focus on the mountains in the distance. "Gideon told me last night they've sent for a minister, too. The little church has been empty for a year and a half now."
"Really?" A decided interest crept into her voice. "Did I tell you my brother Marcus is studying to be a minister?"
He glanced over. The pride that filled her voice shown in her face. "Good for him. Does he know what church he'll be going to?"
Melancholy took over her features as her pretty brows gathered. "He just graduated, I think. The ceremony was to take place while I journeyed here."
Bryan wanted to reach up and stroke away the sadness. "I'm sorry."
She blinked, her full lips pinching. He struggled for something else to say. Something to ease the ache so obvious.
Claire broke the quiet as she held out her injured hand. "Would you like to check it now?"
Yes. Doctoring, he could do. Bryan placed his empty mug on the floor beside his chair, then pulled the supplies he'd need from his bag. "Let's have a look."
~ ~ ~
Mountain Dreams Series: Books 1 - 3: Mountain Dreams Box Set 1 Page 53
