by Amanda Cabot
“Three o’clock then,” she said as Austin called to Hannah. Within a minute, they had headed home, and Catherine was on her way to Aunt Mary’s.
Though she tried to act as if there were nothing unusual about the day, Catherine could hardly concentrate on the dinner conversation. When Uncle Charles repeated his belief that Travis should investigate Austin’s background and Aunt Mary seconded him, she wanted to protest, but realized it would have no effect. Fortunately, Travis remained noncommittal, and the subject turned to the upturn in business at Warner’s apothecary, leaving Catherine’s brain free to worry about what it was Austin was going to tell her this afternoon and what connection that could possibly have to courting her.
Feeling more relieved than normal when the meal ended, Catherine hurried home, making the excuse that she needed to talk to Grace as her reason for not lingering with Lydia.
At last the clock struck three. Seconds later, Catherine heard Austin’s knock and ushered him into the house. “You’re as punctual as ever.”
“I try to be.” Though he smiled, the same apprehension she’d seen that morning darkened his eyes. “Did you tell Mrs. Sims why I was coming?”
“Only that you have something to discuss with us.” She led Austin to the parlor where Grace was seated, her veil once again covering her face.
When Austin had greeted Grace, he took a seat across from her and leaned forward slightly. “I know you’re not comfortable removing your veil, but Catherine told me why you wear it.”
Grace shook her head. “Catherine may have told you, but she wasn’t the first. Hannah admitted that she’d talked to you. It was almost comical to see how worried she was that I would be angry. Of course, I wasn’t, just as I wasn’t surprised that she’d told you. It’s difficult for a child her age to keep a secret.”
“I’m glad you understand.” Austin appeared relieved. “Hannah was worried about you. So was Catherine. That’s why I’m here. Catherine has been searching for a way to minimize your scarring and asked for my assistance in finding a plastic surgeon with expertise in skin restoration.”
Austin tipped his head to the side, reminding Catherine of a bird that was waiting for a response. When Grace said nothing, Austin continued. “I believe I can help you, but I need to see the extent of the damage to be certain.”
Catherine felt her eyes widen with surprise. Had she misunderstood? If he was simply going to contact a surgeon, there was no reason for him to examine Grace’s face.
“I don’t understand.”
Austin nodded. “You will.” Turning his gaze from Catherine to Grace and then back again to Catherine, he said, “What I’m about to tell you must not be repeated to anyone. I’ll explain the reasons, but before I begin, I need your promise of secrecy. Do I have it?”
Catherine felt a frisson of excitement at the realization that her instincts had been accurate. Austin was harboring secrets. Important ones. Though she could not imagine what he’d been hiding that could be connected to helping Grace, she was eager to hear what he had to say.
“Yes, you have my promise,” Catherine said without hesitation. “I trust you, Austin.” And she did.
He gave her the faintest of smiles before he turned to Grace. “What about you, Mrs. Sims?”
“Of course, I agree. As Catherine knows, I’m no stranger to secrets. I have several of my own. But if we’re going to be more than casual acquaintances, I hope you’ll call me Grace.”
“Certainly, Grace, and I’m Austin. Now, may I see your face?”
There was no hesitation. When Grace raised her veil, Austin rose to stand in front of her, his eyes moving slowly, as if he were cataloging each scar. The intensity of his gaze told Catherine this was a professional examination.
“May I touch you, Grace?” He waited until she nodded, then ran his index finger over her cheeks. When he’d finished, Austin returned to his seat. “The damage is severe, but I’ve seen worse. I believe it would be possible to significantly improve your skin. There are risks involved, and the recovery will take weeks, but if the surgery is successful—and I believe it would be—you wouldn’t have to wear that veil.”
Grace fingered the veil but did not lower it. “You speak with authority. How is that possible?” She voiced the question that had been on the tip of Catherine’s tongue. Austin spoke as if he had knowledge that only an expert would possess.
Though Grace had asked the question, Austin fixed his gaze on Catherine as he said, “I’m a physician. Before I came to Cimarron Creek, I was one of the few plastic surgeons in Philadelphia.”
A doctor. Not just a doctor but a highly trained one. As the image of Doc Harrington and his leeches flitted through Catherine’s brain, she dismissed it. Austin was not like Doc Harrington. If he was a doctor, he was a competent, kind one. He would not subject patients to bleeding, purging, and other treatments that did far more harm than good.
She took a deep breath as memories resurfaced. No wonder Austin had been confident he could help Grace. No wonder he’d been able to set Roger’s arm with such competence. What he had dismissed as beginner’s luck had been nothing of the sort. Speechless at the magnitude of his revelation, Catherine simply nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“I don’t want to sound as if I’m boasting, but many in Philadelphia considered me the best. I studied in Paris with two of Europe’s most renowned plastic surgeons and developed techniques that were an extension of theirs.” Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. That was why he and Geraldine had been in Paris.
“When I returned to America, I became known for my ability to reconstruct faces.”
“Then why are you running a ranch in Texas?” Though Catherine had dozens of questions, that was the foremost. It made no sense that a man would abandon a career that brought him satisfaction. Though he hadn’t pronounced the words, Austin’s expression when he spoke of his work with faces told her he found it gratifying.
He steepled his fingers, the force with which he pressed them together revealing the depth of his emotion.
“I’m here because a powerful man threatened Hannah’s safety if I didn’t alter his face. The only thing wrong with the man’s face was that it was distinctive. He has a hawk-like nose, high cheekbones, and a very square chin. He wanted me to make him look like one of his underlings, but I refused.”
Grace was uncharacteristically silent, perhaps because—like Catherine—she was trying to come to grips with the possibility that the man they knew as a rancher might be able to minimize her scarring.
Catherine fixed her gaze on Austin. “I’m sure you had a good reason for refusing.” Didn’t professional ethics demand that a physician do no harm? Changing a man’s face from memorable to ordinary would be destroying what God had created.
Austin nodded. “I believe I did. The man is a criminal. He extorts small businessmen, threatening them, occasionally torturing them, and arranges for anyone who stands in his way to be killed. The police know what he looks like, so it’s only a matter of time before they catch him. That’s why he wanted me to make his face unremarkable, so he could move to New York and start up a business there. He insists that it’ll take the police longer to find him if he’s ordinary looking.”
Catherine shuddered at the images Austin’s words conjured. “You were right to refuse.”
“I want to believe that’s true, and I do. My conscience wouldn’t let me even consider helping him. The problem is that by refusing, I’ve hurt innocent people. I used to run a free clinic for Philadelphia’s poorest. One of the most rewarding things I did was to repair children’s damaged faces. I may not have changed their lives, but I gave them the opportunity to live more normally. I’m sorrier than I can say that I had to abandon them.”
“But that awful man threatened Hannah.” Grace’s voice was filled with compassion. “Your first responsibility was to keep your child safe.”
Though Grace was speaking of Austin’s daughter, Catherine knew she was also think
ing of her own child, wondering as she had so many times whether she had done the right thing by allowing her to be adopted.
Austin’s lips tightened. “I don’t want to think about what might happen if Enright—that’s his name, Sherman Enright—discovers I’m here. The man has no children of his own and, from everything I’ve heard, takes pleasure in torturing children to make their parents do whatever he wants. I couldn’t bear for that to happen to Hannah. That’s why I abandoned my life in Philadelphia and became a rancher again.”
“Again?”
He nodded. “The story that I came from Oklahoma is true. My parents were ranchers there, but I left that behind when I became a doctor.” He looked down at his hands, which now bore the calluses of a true rancher. “I suppose I could have gone back to Europe, but Paris holds too many unhappy memories. Besides, I doubt Enright or any of his men would ever think to look for Dr. Goddard on a ranch.”
Dr. Goddard. The man who’d kissed her so tenderly was a doctor. Catherine wasn’t certain which surprised her more—the realization that Austin was a physician or the fact that she did not cringe at the idea. The seeds Pastor Dunn had sown in his sermon had done more than take root. They were now full-grown plants, crowding out the weeds of suspicion and distrust.
“I should have realized you were more than a rancher the day you set Roger Henderson’s arm. You worked with such assurance.”
The corners of Austin’s lips curved upward. “I tried not to for two reasons: I didn’t want to reveal my past, and you’d made it clear that you distrusted doctors.”
Catherine thought back to the times she’d made disparaging remarks about the medical profession and wished she could retract them. It had taken today’s sermon to show her the error of her beliefs. “I was wrong about that. I should have known that not everyone was like Doc Harrington.”
She let her gaze shift from Austin to Grace. With his infinite wisdom, God had brought them together. “Do you really believe you can help Grace?”
Austin nodded. “I do, but I’ll need your help. I can’t perform the surgery alone, and we both know that even if I were willing to share my secrets with him, Doc Harrington is not the right person to ask. Are you willing to be my assistant?”
“Of course.”
Austin turned to Grace. “Are you willing to let me try? I believe I can make a difference, but I must warn you that there are no guarantees.”
Though Catherine had expected immediate agreement, Grace’s eyes reflected concern. “I want to say yes. Catherine knows how much I wish I could bare my face, but I don’t want to do anything that would put Hannah in jeopardy. I’d never forgive myself if this Enright person learned where you were because of me.”
Though he was visibly touched by Grace’s concern, Austin shook his head. “I don’t see how that can happen. No one needs to know about the surgery. When the healing is complete, you’ll stop wearing the veil, saying that your mourning is over.” The look he gave Grace was designed to be reassuring. “Neither you nor Catherine will tell anyone I’m a doctor, and no one else has seen your face.”
“Except Hannah.” Catherine couldn’t let anyone forget that. “She’s told at least one person.”
“That’s true,” Austin admitted, “but I’m confident that she won’t say anything about the surgery. Hannah may be only six, but she’s good at keeping secrets. I’ve taught her never to talk about our life before Cimarron Creek.”
Austin sounded so certain that Hannah had not revealed their past that Catherine hesitated for a second, knowing she was going to cause him worry. “She’s only a child, Austin. Sometimes children reveal secrets without realizing they’re doing it.”
“I don’t like the way that sounds. What did Hannah say?”
“She mentioned living in a big city and how you made people pretty. At the time, I thought she was inventing a story the way children sometimes do.”
Austin’s face reflected his concern. “I didn’t realize she’d said anything, but I can’t undo it. If she told anyone else, I have to hope their reaction was similar to yours.”
“It most likely would be,” Catherine said, grateful that she could give him some reassurance. “People don’t normally take children’s stories seriously.”
Austin was silent for a moment, absorbing the implications of what Catherine had said. “The truth is, the damage is already done. Even if word somehow gets back to Enright because of what Hannah might have said, performing the surgery won’t increase the risk.”
He swallowed, then turned to Grace. “Are you willing to take the risk? I am.”
She fingered her veil, her expression telling Catherine how much she longed to be able to remove it permanently, but instead of agreeing, she turned the question back to Austin. “Are you certain?”
“I am. From the day I left Philadelphia, I felt as if I were being led. Today’s sermon made me realize that God had reasons for bringing me to Cimarron Creek, and one of them is to help you. Let me try.”
Grace nodded. “All right.”
Tucker took a deep swig of the whiskey. He’d need more than one drink to settle him after what he’d learned.
“Oklahoma. What kind of folks live in Oklahoma?” he asked of no one in particular.
“Okies.” The potbellied man seated on the barstool next to him acted as if the answer should have been apparent.
The man on the other side of Potbelly leaned forward, his graying beard dusting the bar as he moved. “I heared they got lotsa cows out there. Big cows with horns longer than any you ever seen.”
“Ain’t that where them tumbleweeds blow?” Potbelly asked. “I heared they’re mighty big too.”
Tucker groaned. Great. Just great. Oklahoma sounded like the most godforsaken place on Earth, but that was where he was headed, because that was the place Austin Goddard called home.
He’d poked around, trying to figure out where the man hailed from. No one seemed to know. One man speculated that he’d come from Albany; another said Pittsburgh; still another mentioned Baltimore. Any one of them might have been right, but the cities were all in different directions. Tucker wasn’t about to go rushing off on some wild goose chase, especially since that would mean asking Enright for more money. The man didn’t need to know that Tucker wasn’t already on Goddard’s trail. He wouldn’t be happy with that news, and an unhappy Sherman Enright wasn’t someone Tucker wanted to face.
He needed to be sure before he started chasing the doctor again. That was why he’d broken into the registrar’s office at the medical college Goddard had attended. He’d figured they would have records, and they did. There it was, as plain as could be. Austin Goddard’s next of kin lived on a ranch outside Tulsa, Oklahoma.
Oklahoma. Land of tumbleweeds and cows. Goddard had better be there. He’d dang well better be there, because if there was one thing on Earth Tucker didn’t like, it was cows. And cows with long horns . . . He wouldn’t think about them. Not today. Not any day. All he was gonna think about was Enright’s face the day he marched Austin Goddard into his office.
“We’re finished, Catherine. You can sit down.”
She sank onto one of the chairs they’d pushed aside when they’d prepared the dining room for Grace’s surgery, her legs suddenly limp, her hands trembling. Somehow she’d kept her hands steady while she’d assisted Austin, but now that the final bandage was wrapped around Grace’s head, leaving her looking like one of the mummies whose pictures Catherine had seen in a book, she could not control them.
“Will she be all right?” Her voice was as shaky as her hands.
As if he realized that he might soon have a second patient to treat, Austin strode to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water. “Drink this,” he said. “You’ll feel better in a few minutes. Your reaction is normal.”
Normal was not a word Catherine would have used to describe anything about today.
“Grace’s face is in God’s hands now,” Austin said when Catherine had taken a few s
ips of water. “You and I’ve done all we can for right now. Starting tomorrow you need to change the bandages and apply ointment twice a day for a week. After that, you can remove the bandages, but you need to continue the ointment dressings for another week.”
“It’s a good thing Hannah’s not here,” Catherine said as she stared at Grace’s bandaged face. “She’s a sensible child, but this could give her nightmares.”
“That’s why she’s on the ranch.” When they’d scheduled the surgery, Austin had declared that Hannah would remain at the ranch for the rest of the school year. Though he’d told Hannah he had a special project for her to work on there, Catherine knew that he didn’t want her to see Grace with her face bandaged. It was a wise decision. Grace’s scars had been ugly, but the bandages were alarming.
When school had ended this afternoon, Seth had taken Hannah back to the ranch on his horse, and Austin had come to Catherine’s house, his medical supplies stashed in a picnic basket. Once inside, he’d begun converting the dining room into an operating room, with Grace lying on the table where Catherine had eaten so many meals.
“I’ve never read of anything like what you did today,” Catherine said, grateful that her hands were no longer shaking.
“The principle has been known for thousands of years.” Austin reached for Catherine’s hand. Though she’d thought he wanted to hold it, instead he felt for her pulse. It must have satisfied him, because he nodded, then continued his explanation. “The ancient Egyptians used rough stones to remove the top layers of skin. They realized that even though the process was painful, the skin that grew back would be smooth. What I did was something similar.”
Catherine closed her eyes for a second, not wanting to relive the memory of the surgery he’d performed. It had seemed almost impossible to believe that something good would come from it, and for an instant she had wondered if this would be as destructive as the purges and bleedings Doc Harrington had inflicted on her mother. But, she’d reminded herself, this was Austin, a man who’d been trained by the best in the field, a man she trusted.
