by Paty Jager
“Your family should be proud of what you’ve accomplished in a short time.”
Pleasure surged through him. He had the respect of the desirable woman next to him. Something he’d worked to gain from his brothers.
****
Rachel stared at the dirt and grass street separating less than a dozen buildings. On the way to the stamp mill yesterday, they’d skirted the town. Her first sight of the ragtag village had crumbled her high hopes of a fulfilling medical practice.
One lone tree stood at the far end of the street symbolizing her despair. She was adrift in a world she was unaccustomed to and wanted desperately to make it work.
“There isn’t much here in the way of accommodations.” She stopped her horse and took a deep breath. Rural. Primitive. Her chest squeezed with apprehension. Could she function here as a doctor? Did she want to try?
“I know it wasn’t very much before I left, but I’d hoped it had grown because of the stamp mill.” Clay stopped his horse and twisted in the saddle.
“If it’s grown since you left, then it couldn’t have been more than a building or two.” Rachel urged her horse forward and stopped beside him. “I can’t… There’s no way I could survive as a doctor in this town.” If she couldn’t be a doctor, how could she stay? Becoming his wife without giving doctoring a chance, she’d never be fulfilled. Never be able to give him all the love he deserved.
Clay waved an arm. “There are lots of miners up in the hills that would rather stop here to be doctored than go all the way to Baker City.” He stared ahead. “At least talk to some people.” His horse moved forward and she followed.
Talk to people. What people? There wasn’t a soul on the street or lounging in front of the General Merchandise store. She doubted they carried the powder she needed or even a riding skirt as Clay had suggested.
Clay’s horse stopped in front of a two story house. “Is this a two story house with a sign that says food?”
“Yes.” How did he know that?
He patted his horse on the neck and dismounted, catching her horse by the headstall.
“We’ll go in here for something to drink and the latest gossip.” He stepped to the side of her horse, raised his hands, grasping her around the waist, and pulled her off the saddle, placing her feet on the ground.
“Oh…my legs.” She clutched his arms, marveling at the strength he possessed holding her upright. Her wobbly legs refused to cooperate after the long ride.
Clay’s arms circled her waist and drew her closer. “Your legs will get used to this in no time. Until then, you can lean on me all you want.”
The intent expression on his face and hand creeping up her back shot heat through her body. His desire to hold her matched her need to be held.
“Why, bless my soul, if it isn’t Clay Halsey.”
Rachel jerked her head to the female voice. Clay loosened his hold but didn’t remove the arm circling her waist. He drew her to his side.
“Myrle, bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.” He held out a hand to the older woman, embracing her to his other side. Her head came to Rachel’s shoulder. The woman’s rheumy faded blue eyes studied Rachel.
“I knew I’d see you again. Hank comes in regular telling me what you’re up to. But he didn’t say anything about a wife.” Myrle stepped away from him and walked up the three steps to the front porch.
Clay followed, his arm still tucked around Rachel. Was he going to tell the woman they weren’t married? She’d find out soon enough.
He navigated the steps, drawing her along. The woman’s backside disappeared through the front door.
They crossed the porch, and Clay held the door. Cooking aromas assailed her as her gaze roamed the small room hosting six cloth-covered tables and four chairs each.
“Over here.” Myrle held a coffee pot in one hand and three cups in the other. Clay stepped into the room, dragging the old hat from his head.
Rachel tucked her arm though Clay’s and navigated through the tables to the one the woman indicated.
Clay held a chair for her and sat to her left.
“Hank didn’t say anything about you getting married,” Myrle said again, assessing her.
“That’s because we aren’t married, yet.” Clay picked up his cup and took a sip.
Rachel’s stomach quivered with uncertainty. Did the yet mean he still planned to marry her? Did she want to be stuck in this place with little to do? She peered at his relaxed face and easy smile. Her heart flipped. Would it be bad to have little to do if she could wake every morning in his arms?
Myrle studied her harder, squinting. “Well, you were being pretty darn familiar for not being married.”
“Mrs.—”
“Myrle. If you’re a friend of Clay’s you’re a friend of mine, until I determine otherwise.” The old woman continued to watch her.
“Myrle, this is Doctor Rachel Tarkiel,” Clay said.
Rachel scowled at him. Did he fear she’d say something wrong?
Myrle’s eyes widened and the straight line of her lips softened.
“A doctor?” The woman switched her critical stare to Clay. “I thought you were just blind. Do you have some other ailing?”
Clay laughed. “No. Rachel was the doctor at the Blind School. We got along well, and I asked her to come visit and see if this might be a place she’d like to practice medicine.”
“I see…” Myrle shot her gaze back to Rachel.
“I’m wondering, though, after seeing the size of your town, if I could stay busy here.” Rachel picked up her coffee cup and watched the woman over the rim. “And there doesn’t seem to be a lot of housing.”
“So the two of you would live in Sumpter?”
“If we can determine Rachel would have work, and I can find a place for a business venture I’ve started.” Clay nodded. “I don’t want to live in Baker City. I need to be close to the mill in case I’m needed.”
Myrle’s shrewd eyes studied her. “And what about you? Would you be able to live here? We aren’t too worldly around here.”
Rachel agreed. The town held little appeal. Of course, the first few months and possibly the first year would be slim until people trusted her. But could she live day in and day out in this primitive area?
Clay twined his fingers with hers. She stared into his eyes. The sharp brown had faded a little more each time she gazed in his eyes. But she still sought solace in their unseeing depths. Would loving him be enough to sustain her?
“I-I guess we won’t know until I try it awhile.” Clay’s face changed subtly at her words. He’d been willing her to wholeheartedly love his town, but she couldn’t, not yet.
“That’s why we aren’t married. If she decides to stay, then we’ll discuss wedding plans.”
His stiff formal voice made her chest ache. She’d hurt him by not embracing his life.
Myrle clanked her cup on the table, breaking Rachel’s gaze on Clay.
“We have one empty building next to the post office. It might work for your business, Clay, but it would be a poor place for a doctor. Now, the Leonard’s place that sits back near the trees, it’s empty. You could use the parlor as your doctoring room and live in the rest, but it needs some work. Been a while since anyone set foot in it.”
Clay stood and pulled Rachel to her feet. “Come on, let’s take a look at both places, then come back here and have some lunch before we head back to the mill.”
Chapter 30
Clay sensed Rachel’s hesitation as they walked hand in hand down the street. Sumpter was more secluded and primitive than the city where she’d grown up. Between the differences and helping him, he was asking a lot of her. He’d go through the motions today, see if she showed any interest. If she couldn’t make this work, he’d have to dig deep and decide what to do. He wished Ethan were here. His older brother always had a way of figuring things out.
His gut churned from the thought of her leaving. If she left and he didn’t follow, his hear
t would suffer for a long time. But if life here became agony for her, he’d suffer as well. Best to hurt now and let her go than have her grow to hate him.
“This building looks kind of small for two businesses,” Rachel said.
“Take me to a corner so I can step it off.”
He stopped when she did.
“This is the—” She twisted and stretched. “I think the north corner. Which way do you want to go—across the front or to the back?”
“Both.”
“Let’s go across the front first.”
She tugged, and he counted his steps until she stopped. “About twenty feet across. Okay, how long?”
She pivoted him, and they started along the side. The sun’s rays bounced off the building, adding heat to the already warm summer day.
“Thirty long. You’re right. It would be a tight fit for both Donny’s broom making and the writing tablets.” This wasn’t good news. He needed room for Jasper and Donny when they arrived in a month.
“What’s on either side and behind the building?” If there was enough space they could add on.
“Behind, there’s nothing until the trees. One side is the post office about twenty feet away. The other side is open.”
Her soft steps shuffled along the dirt. What was she thinking? Did he dare ask?
“I’ll come back tomorrow and walk through the layout so I can decide the best way to enlarge this building.” He’d need to spend the afternoon and evening whittling sticks he could construct into the shape of the rooms.
“We could take the time today.”
Her faint words suggested she had walked a distance away. Clay faced that direction. “I have to gather the items I need to manufacture the building so I can visualize it.”
“I didn’t— Well, then, I guess we should take a look at the Leonard house.”
Her soft voice, almost a whisper, made his heart plummet hard into his gut. This subdued, uncertain attitude gave rise to the notion she didn’t care enough for him, and he was right in holding off marrying her.
He knew his feelings for her. He was in love. Any day, no matter where, would be good with her in it. But he wouldn’t make her suffer.
“You don’t have to look at the house.” His words barked harsher than he’d planned. His sense of loss already overwhelmed him.
Her steps approached, her small hand captured his. “What’s wrong? Are you upset you’ll have so little time to get the building ready before Mr. Smith and Donny arrive?”
He traced her knuckles with his thumb. Everything about this woman made him happy. Why couldn’t she feel the same?
“Yeah, just preoccupied.”
“Which side of town is the Leonard place? Myrle didn’t really say.”
Her happier tone raised his spirits. “It should be… I have to think. I believe it’s on the slope behind the mercantile.”
Rachel led him across what the residents called a street. His feet stubbed the vegetation sticking up sporadically.
“Morning, Clay, Miss,” Mr. Duckworth’s voice bellowed.
Rachel stopped, and Clay faced the direction of the voice.
“Mr. Duckworth, how’s the family?” he asked, figuring they stood near the mercantile porch.
“They’re all doing fine. I heard you were coming home. Things improved any?”
Clay shook his head. He’d known the Duckworth family most of his life. Everyone in Sumpter knew the life history of each other. “Nope, still walking around in the dark.”
“Then you don’t know there’s a right fine looking woman leading you around. If I was you, I’d hang on and not let go.” The man chuckled.
Rachel’s fingers squeezed his, and Clay laughed.
“Thank you for the observation. I’ll recollect on it.” Clay waved. “Let’s go look at that house.” He clasped Rachel’s elbow and started forward. She fell into step, drawing him to the left.
“It’s the largest house I’ve seen here.”
Her voice rose on a lilting note and shot hope to his heart. Maybe, just maybe…
Rachel stared at the house as they approached. By far it proved to be the best built house in town. It needed repairs and a whitewash, but she could see the possibilities.
The stairs creaked under her feet and a missing board needed replaced on the porch.
“How long has this been empty?” She wiped at the dust on the windows and peeked in. The trees shading the sides and the porch roof made it hard to see into the dark interior.
“I think they’d been gone about a year when I left.” A board squawked under his weight. “They had a good carpenter build the house, but they weren’t much on keeping things up.”
“Can we get a key and look inside?” She peered back toward town, the view wasn’t unpleasant. She could stand here and see who came to town and gaze upon the majestic trees on the far slope.
“I’m pretty sure the door isn’t locked.” Clay ran a hand along the wall and grasped the brass doorknob. The door swung open with a creak.
“Oh!” She stepped across the threshold. The large entry could easily accommodate chairs for her patients. The left opened into a parlor, the right a dining area. Stairs led to the upper floor. She followed the short hall to a primitive kitchen. The stove looked useable, though dated. Two enamel basins sat on a drain board. She didn’t see a hand pump.
“Is this the kitchen?”
Clay’s voice behind her made her jump.
“Yes. The cook stove would do. It looks like water comes from a well outside.” She couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice.
“That’s easy to fix.”
“Really?” Availability of water in an emergency would be helpful.
“I can order what we need from Baker City and have Hank help me.”
His confidence bolstered her enthusiasm. “It’s a cute kitchen, or could be with the right curtains and tablecloth.” She opened the pantry door. Plenty of room for food and medical supplies.
She headed to the hallway. “Let’s check out the upstairs.”
Clay caught her arm as she walked by. “What about the other rooms down here? Will they work?”
The anxiety drawing the corners of his mouth down and hiding his dimple twisted her heart. He wanted her to like this house.
“They would work perfectly.” She placed her hand on his cheek. “I’m a little disappointed in the size of the town—”
He turned his face away. She moved with him, stepping close, molding her body to his. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”
To prove her point, she knocked his hat off, captured his head in her hands, and kissed him. She drew out of the kiss slowly, brushing her lips across his. The sensation sent wild thoughts buzzing through her head.
Clay crushed her to him and returned the kiss. He took command, his tongue tangling with hers and creating feelings so intense her body ached for more. She tugged his shirt from his pants and ran her palms over the hard muscles of his back. The heat and texture of his skin aroused her even more. Her blood surged, making her lightheaded.
She drew back only enough to say, “Clay, upstairs.” If they were lucky the past residents had left a bed.
Clay scooped her up in his arms.
Rachel giggled. “I’m sorry, but you’re not carrying me up these stairs.” She slipped out of his arms and led him to the stairway. They ascended into a short hallway. Three doors graced the bare walls.
She opened the first door. A delightful room swathed in rose covered wallpaper overlooked the town. The second door revealed a smaller room with one window shaded by a tree.
Rachel opened the last door and stopped.
The room ran the length of the back of the house. A large bookcase covered one wall. Between two windows looking out at the trees beyond the house sat a hulking bed frame.
“Was Mr. Leonard a large man?” She walked to the foot of the bed. The square posts came to her shoulders, and the flat edges were longer than h
er hands laid fingertip to heel.
“He was tall, but the missus—she could take up a whole wagon seat by herself.” Clay followed her into the room. He traced the bedpost. “Is there a mattress?”
“Yes, but it’s fairly dusty.” Rachel ran a gloved finger across the fabric covering. The wide line reminded her of drawing in the dirt as a child.
“So we won’t finish what we started downstairs?”
The wistfulness in his voice caused her to laugh. “Will this satisfy you?” She hugged his waist and placed her head on his chest. “I love this house. I think it would be perfect.”
He embraced her, leaning his head on her hat. “I was—” He cleared his throat. “I was ready to put you on the train back to Salem.”
She leaned away to peer into his face. “Why? Have I given you the impression I don’t want to be here with you?” How could he so easily send her away? Didn’t he care about her? His kisses and caresses were more than desire. She was sure of it. He had to love her, didn’t he? Her stomach clenched.
“You seemed disappointed. That maybe you couldn’t deal with me, my blindness, and living here.”
He took her head in his hands, his face inches from hers. She stared into his eyes, his warm breath wafted across her face.
“I don’t want you to go.” He tilted his head and kissed her softly, tenderly.
Tears pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision.
“But if this place or I can’t make you happy—I don’t want you to stay out of a perceived duty.” He kissed her again. “I want you happy. And if that means leaving, I-I’ll agree even if it would kill me.”
Her heart leaped about inside her chest. He cared. The emotion in his words proved more than his kisses. Rachel sniffed back the tears of happiness and kissed him.
Clay tasted salty tears on her lips and pulled back. “You’re crying.”
“They’re happy tears. I promise.” Rachel ran her hands under his shirt again.
Her caress fanned the fire she’d lit in the kitchen. His body exploded in flames of need. Feeling the crown of her hat, he released the hatpins and sent the bonnet sailing through the air. Her soft hair caught on his rough hands as he caressed her. Rachel’s head lolled back. He dropped kisses the length of her velvety soft neck.
