Wild Western Women Mistletoe, Montana: Sweet Western Historical Holiday Box Set
Page 3
Will’s absence cut Riley like a knife. Although he grieved for Will whenever he thought of the man, evenings were the worst time. That’s when they’d played chess and talked.
Riley started at one end of town and walked one side of the street and then crossed over and went down the other. At each closed business, he checked to be sure the door was locked. He skipped the doctor’s. He’d already seen she was fine.
And that was an understatement. Blue eyes and dark blond hair that shone in the sunlight. She smelled like a flower garden in spring. Dang, what was wrong with him?
After he’d completed his checks of the businesses, he strode toward the doctor’s back door. “Come on, Sylvester. We’ll see who can resist who.” He rapped and waited for her to answer.
Shannon was expecting, even looking forward to, the sheriff’s visit. How pathetic had she become? Some days the lawman was the only human contact she had. “Sheriff, I see your deputy is looking better.” She stood aside but didn’t ask him to enter.
“Wanted to be sure you’re doing all right.” He stepped over the threshold. Sylvester followed.
He stopped. “Um, Sylvester, I think you’d better wait on the porch.”
“Oh, he’ll be fine since this is the town’s house and he’s the town deputy.” She bent down. “Come on, boy, I have just the thing for you. Have a seat, Sheriff, while I get your dog a bone.”
She returned with a bowl of water and a soup bone she’d saved. “I made soup for supper. Have you eaten?”
“Abner at the café sold me enough roast beef to share with the dog.”
“Sounds as if Sylvester ate much better than I did.”
The sheriff stood rubbing his chin and staring at the chess set as if he expected the pieces to come to life.
“Would you care to play a game of chess?”
His eyes lit up and he took a seat at the table. “I’ll take black.”
She sat across from him and grinned. “Fitting.” She moved her pawn.
After half an hour, Shannon could suppress her curiosity no longer. “Since you knew my name, why did you think I was a man?”
“Shannon is a man’s name in my family. I have an Uncle Shannon McCallister over in Boise and a Great-grandfather Shannon O’Toole from County Kildare. I’ve never known a woman with that name.”
“I was named after the river in Ireland. I guess your relatives were too. Or, maybe the town was named after the river.”
“Guess so. Checkmate.”
She acted surprised. “That didn’t take long. I didn’t realize I’m that out of practice.”
He stood and picked up his hat. “I’ll give you a chance to win tomorrow if you’re willing.”
“I’ll bake cookies if I don’t have patients. And it’s looking as if I’ll never have any.”
“Aw, you will. A woman will have a baby or a child will become ill. That’ll prompt folks to turn to you for help.”
“But you’re convinced a man won’t ask for my help?”
He shrugged but didn’t meet her gaze. “Eventually, maybe. After you’ve been here a while—if you stick around. That’s a complicated subject.”
After he’d gone, she straightened the chess set. Okay, so she’d let him win to soothe his ego. Not something she ever would have considered before moving here. Her existence in Mistletoe was tenuous. She didn’t want to damage the fragile peace between her and the sheriff.
Shannon had cleaned her clinic until the place sparkled. She’d reviewed Dr. Jones’ files and had a sense of how busy he was plus his treatment methods for his patients. Although not rushed as she had been in New York, Dr. Jones had a growing practice that allowed him a steady income.
He’d accepted odd things as payment and she supposed she would have to do the same. What would she do if someone paid in poultry? She’d accept the payment, that’s what.
The first snow arrived and blanketed the world in white. She’d never experienced such beauty. Crisp, clean air with the forested mountains then the purple distant ones as a backdrop.
Wearing the warm hat and scarf Doreen Murphy had chosen for her and her new lined gloves, Shannon shoveled her front walk. She smiled to herself as she realized she’d love to build a snowman.
“You’re busy this morning.”
Shovel in hand, she smiled at the sheriff. “Isn’t this a glorious day? Where’s Sylvester?”
Bundled in a long black coat and red scarf around his hat, Riley could have passed for a western Santa. “I thought his paws might get too cold so I left him guarding the jail.”
“That’s what a good deputy does, I suppose. You’re enjoying the snow alone.”
“Have to admit I’m not as fond of the weather as you seem to be. At least the cold cuts down on mischief. Guess even crooks want to stay by the fire.”
“Cozy by the fire is good, but I’ve never seen such a beautiful snow. So much cleaner than in the city. And, the sky is gorgeous.”
She stopped talking. His facial expression broadcast his opinion. Obviously, he thought she was crazy for using every superlative she knew to describe what he probably thought of as a nuisance. After hefting a shovel of snow to the side, she leaned on the handle.
He shifted from one foot to the other. “You need help?”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m enjoying myself. I’ll bet you have to help several older people in town, though, don’t you?”
He grinned. “Already cleared Mrs. Harper’s back porch and the walk to her chicken coop. Then, I helped Otto Jensen with his porch and his walk. Guess I’d better check on a few more folks.”
“Stay warm.” She hummed to herself as she cleared the last few feet to her gate.
Days, weeks passed with no new patients. In over two months since she’d arrived, she’d treated only a few minor women’s ailments and set a child’s broken arm. If she didn’t die of boredom, she’d starve to death with no income.
Time to take action.
Pacing back and forth, she tried to think of what would bring people to her office. If she could convince people to consult her, she was certain they would realize she knew what she was doing. She would go mad with no patients and no way to fill her time.
Mistletoe didn’t have a women’s clinic where she could volunteer. What if she started a free clinic one day a month? Everyone liked something free.
Her heartbeat raced as she retrieved a sheet of paper from the desk. She took a seat and picked up the pen. She hummed to herself as she printed out what she wanted on the poster she’d put up in town.
After bundling up, she practically ran through the snow to the newspaper office. Making eye contact with everyone she saw, she smiled as she strutted down the walk. When she entered the newspaper office, she leaned on the counter.
A smiling man raised from bending over the press to stride toward her. “Hello, may I help you?”
“I’m Dr. Shannon Callahan.”
He extended his hand. “Tom Stuart. I’ve been meaning to come meet you. Do you want to run an ad in the paper?”
“I hadn’t thought about one, but now that you mention the idea, I believe I will. And, I’d like to have you print some handbills.” She pushed the sheet across the counter.
He scanned the words and pursed his lips in concentrations. “A free clinic? Never had one of those before. I’ll be happy to print the signs for you. How many do you want and when do you need them?”
“A dozen should be enough and the sooner you have them ready, the better.”
He gave her a price and she paid.
Pencil in hand, he asked, “And how about the ad?”
“Show me the sizes and tell me your prices.”
He spread out the current edition of the newspaper. “I can give you a lower price if you make it long term.”
Shannon scanned those and chose one. “I’d like a thin box around my advertisement and you can run it through the end of the year.” She wrote out what she wanted inside the box.
The more information about her, the better. An interview would be like free advertising. And, people who didn’t live in Mistletoe would receive the newspaper in the mail.
She answered all of Tom’s questions. “I’ll call back later in the day.”
Shannon had set the free clinic as the last Friday in October. That gave her two weeks to let word spread and figure a way to make the clinic successful.
When she called for the handbills, she brought a hammer and tiny nails. Tom had already placed a sheet prominently in his shop window. She asked Doreen Murphy to place one in the mercantile window and the friendly woman agreed. Then, Shannon went to the other businesses in town.
The barber, the bathhouse owner, and the lawyer agreed to post her flyers. The saloon was in transition after the owner’s death, so she nailed one to the outside wall. She was turned down at the bank by Jasper Amherst. What a snotty man.
She secured several more then went home. With pleasure, she tacked one on the wall beside the blackboard. She also tacked one inside her new office. Now all she had to do was hope this worked.
Chapter 4
As she walked back from the mercantile a week later, she saw the sheriff and his dog. “Sheriff, you’re walking… almost limping. What’s wrong?” She scratched Sylvester between the ears.
The sheriff turned red. “Nothing, nothing at all. Just out doing my rounds.”
She wrinkled her nose while she weighed his answer versus his appearance. “If you say so. In the event there’s something wrong, don’t forget I’m the town’s doctor.”
He tapped his fingers against his hat brim. “I’m fine, Doctor. Come on, Sylvester.”
Riley did his best to walk normally but every step irritated that damn boil. What was he gonna do? He sure wasn’t asking a woman to lance it.
He stopped in the barber shop. Pastor Nichols was getting his hair trimmed. Riley listened while the barber and the preacher discussed the latest snow and the future of the county’s crops.
As soon as the minister left, Riley edged toward the barber. “Uriah, I need your help with a problem.”
“Sure, Riley. What can I do for you?”
He gestured for the barber to follow him behind the curtain that separated the shop from the back room.
“You pull teeth back here. That’s sort of medical.”
Uriah shook his head. “Not really, but say what you came to.”
“Well, see, there’s this giant boil on my backside. I need you to lance it.”
The barber narrowed his brown eyes. “Riley, are you nuts? Get the doctor to take care of that thing.”
“Uriah, I can’t go showing her my backside. You gotta help me.”
Uriah shook his head. “I’m not looking at yours or anyone else’s rear excepting Millie’s. Your kind of problem is Dr. Callahan’s business but it sure isn’t mine.” He pointed at the door. “Now, get that dog out of my place.”
Riley ambled toward his office at the jail. Danged if he’d show his backside to a woman doctor, especially not one who inspired his lustful thoughts. He didn’t want her to witness a sudden salute from his other head.
Maybe he could lance the boil himself. Sure, he could probably use a mirror and take care of the job. How hard could it be?
Back at the jail, he took the little shaving mirror off the wall. After heating his knife to clean it, he dropped his britches. No matter how he held the mirror and twisted, he couldn’t gain access to treat the problem.
Giving up, he fastened his pants and returned his knife to his pocket. “Come on, Sylvester. Let’s go see George.”
His dog followed and they strolled to the bathhouse—actually Sylvester strolled and Riley limped. Every step sent his underwear and pants fabric rubbing across his sore backside. There were several customers at the bathhouse when they arrived. Riley waited until all the other men were engaged in the curtained off tubs.
“George, I have a delicate problem.”
His friend acted concerned and pulled him aside. “Something I can do to help?”
“Glad you asked. You see, I have this boil on my backside that hurts like the devil whenever I move. I need you to lance it for me.”
George’s solicitous nature disappeared. “Are you crazy? Get on over to the doctor and have her take care of your problem. That’s her job. And, don’t you go using this place until that thing is healed, you hear?”
Riley hobbled as far as the gate to her office. He wasn’t sure he could expose his rear to her. At least, not under these conditions.
He’d faced weather disasters, robbers, gunfighters, an angry bear, and a contentious mountain lion. Surely he could do this. He pushed open the gate and shambled to the front door.
When he opened the office door, Shannon sat at her desk. Her eyes were red as if she’d been crying.
Sure enough, she dabbed at her face before she rose and offered a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Hello, Sheriff. This is an odd time for your rounds.”
Already he regretted coming here. “This is a… a medical problem.”
She stood and looked so hopeful he couldn’t leave without telling her about the danged boil.
“Oh, come in and tell me what’s wrong.”
“When you thought I was limping, you were right. Now don’t laugh or make a joke about my problem. I, um, have this thing on my rear that is getting larger and is irritated by my clothes.”
A frown furrowed her beautiful brow. “Sounds painful. Come into the treatment room and I’ll examine you.” She bent to his dog. “Sylvester, you wait right here, all right?”
As if he understood her, Sylvester plopped down and rested his muzzle on his paws.
She strode into the adjacent area. Riley followed.
She washed her hands and dried them. “Drop your pants and lie face down on that second examination table.” She pivoted to arrange medical supplies.
After turning his back to her, he unbuttoned his pants and pushed them and his drawers down to his thighs. Before she saw his nudity, he climbed onto the metal table.
When his manly parts touched the metal, he winced. “Yeow, that’s cold.”
She brought a tray holding evil looking devices. “Sorry about the metal. I know you’re uncomfortable, but this won’t take long.”
Her hands brushed against his skin and he closed his eyes. Her touch was gentle yet firm, which didn’t make sense. He longed to have her explore all of him.
“Sheriff, you have the largest sebaceous cyst I’ve ever seen. This should have been treated before now. How long have you been in pain?”
He couldn’t admit how many days he’d avoided treatment. “Not sure. Been bothering my walking this week.”
“The problem with this type cyst is that the protective film holding the inflammation has to come out or there’ll be a recurrence. I’m aware this hurts but trust that what I do is necessary.”
She sliced into his rear. Damn right, it hurt. He wanted the gentle hands back instead of the knife and whatever other torture device she was using.
He unclenched his jaw enough to say, “Get this taken care of and let me go on my way.”
She pushed on his rear. “You must be careful not to touch this area until the cyst has healed.”
Phew, he caught of whiff of something putrid. “What’s that smell?”
“That’s you, or rather the abscess from your infection.”
“Abscess sounds serious. Are you almost finished?”
“Not even close. Be brave, Sheriff McCallister. Pretend you have a gunshot wound and I’m digging out a bullet.”
“Laugh if you want.”
“I’m not laughing, simply trying to distract you. Ah, that’s the cyst lining I’ve just extracted.”
“I never should have come here.”
“Wrong. You should have come to me day
s ago. Why didn’t you?”
“Aw, it’s not easy for a man to drop his drawers in front of a woman.”
She made a tut-tut sound. “I’d be willing to wager you’ve dropped your drawers in front of plenty of women in your lifetime.”
He gasped and peered over his shoulder. “I’m surprised you’d mention such indelicate things.”
She smiled at him then went back to work. “You should be used to me surprising you, Sheriff.”
“Now that’s the plain truth. I’ll give you five more minutes and then, finished or not, I’m out of here.”
“Your patience is rewarded. As soon as I get this gauze pad fastened in place, you can get up.” She rolled a bandage across his backside and reached under him to reach it from the other side.
He made a sound that sounded odd even to him and grabbed her hand. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Don’t flatter yourself that I’m making advances, Sheriff. I’m merely wrapping a bandage around you so I can tie the gauze in place.”
“I’ll deal with that.” He reached under his hips and retrieved the end of the cloth strip.
She tied the pad in place. “I’ve folded the gauze extra thick to prevent your clothing from irritating the wound. Keep the site clean and don’t scratch or rub the area until you’re healed.”
He waited until she turned her back to clean her instruments before he stood and pulled up his britches. “How much do I owe you?”
“Not a thing, Sheriff. This was a free clinic day, although you’re only my second patient. Your cyst may return. If it does, please don’t wait so long to seek treatment.”
He clamped his hat on his head. “Guess you were shocked seeing my behind. Serves you right for setting yourself up as a doctor.”
“For your information, Sheriff, I’ve seen my share of backsides since I’ve been a physician.” She shot him a wicked grin. “I have to say, yours is among the best looking.”
He figured if he’d ever blushed, he was doing so now. Her eyes danced with either anger or mischief. Maybe both.