The Doctor's Daughter: A Virtue, Arizona Novel

by Patricia Green

  "There is another pair of pants in your room. Also a surprise. Charity found you some boots."

  His grin was infectious, and she found herself returning the expression though she tried to hold back. "I am very much in debt to the Bucknell family," he said. "Your generosity is great beyond measure."

  She snorted, her smile snuffed out. "We're doing the Christian thing, nothing more."

  He walked closer to her, close enough that she could feel his heat. "I recall you being rather un-Christian with me once, Verity."

  She pushed him away and he stumbled back. Without thinking, she reached for him to steady him, and he caught her upper arm drawing her closer to him until her breasts were against his chest.

  "Please…" she whispered, though she wasn't sure if she was begging for something or asking to be released. Confusion spun her mind for a moment, a moment just long enough for him to lower his head and kiss her on the forehead. Steady now on his cane, he released her and she took a step back, her face hot and heart beating a quick tattoo.

  "I'm going to go to town today and see if anyone has a job for a cripple."

  "A job?" she squeaked, then cleared her throat. "A job?"

  "Yes. You know. Working. Making money. Paying for room and board. That kind of job."

  "Of course I know. I'm not stupid."

  He touched her face but withdrew his hand before she could reprimand him. That same hand went to his cheek and drew down it as though he was frustrated. "No, you're not stupid. Neither am I. I need to get a job and pay my way. Once I do, I'll be out of your hair."

  Her brain, the reasoning part at least, said it would be good if he moved away. She needed him to be distant, not so close, so warm, so very male and appealing. But the emotional part of her was screaming for him to stay, to hold her again, to make love to her again. She craved him like a draught of smoke in an opium den.

  "You can't walk to town or ride a horse yet."

  "We have the waggonette," Hope said from the other end of the hall.

  How much had her sister seen? What intimacy had slipped into public knowledge? Verity took another step back and straightened the closed collar of her blouse.

  "I could drive," Hope offered, apparently either not noticing the exchange between Joshua and herself, or choosing to keep it to herself.

  "Papa would never let you drive," Verity said, hoping that would close the discussion.

  "Then you drive. I need to go to town and it would be much nicer to ride than to walk."

  "I don't—" Verity began, only to be interrupted by Joshua.

  "I'll drive. I can drive a wagon."

  The two sisters chorused, "You can?" Verity stabbed a glance at Hope, annoyed to hear her thought echoed.

  He grinned. "Yes, I believe I can."

  "Oh, how wonderful! I'll get my lace. I want to sell it to Mrs. Emory before she buys from that nasty Grace Willoby." She hurried off upstairs to get her things.

  "You constantly amaze me, Joshua Smith," Verity said.

  "Occasionally, I amaze myself, Verity Bucknell." With that, he turned and limped away. He went into his room without a glance back at her, while Verity tried to tear her gaze away and failed.

  Verity went to get her hat, jacket and gloves, and though she thought she was being quick about it, when she came down the stairs, she found both Hope and Joshua waiting for her.

  "What took you so long?" Hope asked, irritated.

  "Hush," was all Verity replied, and got a humph in return.

  Joshua opened the door and they exited to the barn, where the man-of-all-work, Mr. Hammerly, was working at mucking out the horses' stalls. He looked up as they approached, tugging on the brim of his hat politely. "Hello, ladies, lad. What can Hammerly do for you?"

  "We need the waggonette, Mr. Hammerly. Can you please prepare it for us?"

  He put his rake aside and nodded. "In a jiffy, Miss Verity."

  They sat on a bench watching, as Hammerly expertly set the horse in the traces and checked the springs. Their wagonette was a little big for just three people, but it was a vehicle that could hold all the Bucknell family, so it was the transportation of the household.

  Once the wagonette was ready, Hammerly helped Hope into the back of the vehicle, while Verity climbed up onto the front bench. Joshua made a face as he stepped up onto the wagon, and Verity thought the quick flash of expression was a grimace of pain.

  "You really should let me drive, Joshua," she told him. "Bracing your feet against the footboard is going to be quite painful on your hurt leg."

  "Let me worry about that, Miss Verity," he said as Hammerly handed him the reins.

  "You need gloves," she said, not backing down. "Your hands—"

  "Are callused." He paused and leaned in toward her. "You ought to know."

  "Oh, you are a cad, Joshua Smith."

  He straightened and clicked his tongue to the horse. "I suppose you would know about that, too, Verity." He guided the horses to the end of the rutted driveway, then stopped them. "Which way?"

  "Left."

  He gave the reins a gentle snap and the horse moved forward in a trot.

  They traveled a few minutes. "Are we going to see your winking Indian?" he asked, smirking.

  "I'm not talking to you."

  "That's embarrassment talking."

  She huffed. "I am not embarrassed! That Indian winked I tell you." As soon as she said it, she regretted it. She'd vowed to herself not to tell tall tales anymore, especially to hard-handed Joshua.

  "Are we going to do this again?"

  "I'm not talking to you."

  He had the temerity to laugh at her. "Suit yourself." They went along for another minute and then he began to sing a song, The Candy Stick.

  Verity tried to hide a smile.

  "I'm aiming to get a stick of candy at the mercantile," he told her. "Will you loan me a penny?"

  "You can get five for a penny."

  "I'll share."

  He'd share his candy with her sisters, no doubt. What else was he willing to share with them? It galled her to think of him sharing the same intimacies with them as he did with her. Yet, they were all adults and could be courted by whomever their father approved of. Thus far, unknowing of what Verity and Joshua had already done, Papa had put his seal of approval on Joshua. He was free game for all the Bucknell sisters. Verity had a moment of anger as she imagined him kissing Charity. He was driving her mad! To suspect her sister would be hunting for a man, Joshua in particular, was so beneath her dignity. What was his proximity doing to her? She had to get him out of their house, and out of Virtue if at all possible.

  "You're being quiet," he said. "Still not talking to me? Or mulling over if I'm safe enough to loan a penny to?"

  "Dunderhead."

  "You can't resist me, admit it." There was a touch of bravado in his voice. Maybe he wasn't entirely sure of his sway over her. Good!

  "If you let me drive back, I'll loan you a penny."

  "Nope."

  "I insist."

  "Insist away. I'm driving."

  "You are the stubbornest, most irritating, pig-headed man I've ever known." And the most handsome, the strongest, the most sexy, and the most dangerous. Her whole belly got tied up when she remembered their intimate encounter.

  "That may be, but I'm also the man driving."

  "But—"

  "No arguments. Do you want me to spank you again?"

  Hope chose that moment to pipe up. "What are you two talking about, thick as thieves?"

  "Nothing," Verity said. "Commenting on the weather."

  "Hm. It looked a great deal more animated than that."

  Joshua stole the moment, distracting Hope neatly. "Do you often sell lace in town, Miss Hope?"

  "Yes, quite frequently. Mrs. Emory uses it to decorate dresses and hats in her Ladies’ Emporium on Main Street."

  Verity was glad for the change in topic. "She's very talented, Joshua."

  "I'm impressed," he said. "Once I get
a job, maybe I'll buy some from you and send it to my mother. If I can remember where she is, that is."

  Hope tittered, but Verity didn't laugh. Joshua's situation was no laughing matter. Artemis Gritch was suspicious and Joshua could easily find himself on the wrong side of the law. Especially if he truly was hiding anything. Was he the scoundrel the sheriff suspected?

  "Virtue is just around the bend past that big house with the oak tree," Verity told him.

  "I see the houses getting closer together. I thought we were close."

  They entered the town on Main Street and made their way more slowly along the busy thoroughfare.

  "There!" Hope cried. "Over on the right, next to the barber shop, Joshua. That's Mrs. Emory's shop."

  He pulled the wagonette up alongside the curb and got down to help Hope from the back Verity saw him grimace again, and got more determined to take the reins and drive them. She heard him wish Hope luck and then saw Hope move around from the back of the wagon and into the shop.

  Joshua climbed back into the driver's seat, and reached for the reins. Verity snatched them from his hands, and gave the horses a tap. They walked forward.

  "I told you I'd drive," Joshua said, tipping his hat to someone on the boardwalk. "I'm not very happy with you right now, Verity."

  "Too bad. You're not up to this, and I won't be responsible if you hurt yourself again."

  They stopped at the mercantile and Joshua set the brake, then took the reins from Verity and looped them over the keep. "We'll talk about this later. Let's fill your shopping list while we're here."

  "You don't need to help me down," she said, fully determined to be independent. Unfortunately, her dress caught in the carriage mud guard as she jumped, and she fell flat on her face in the dusty street.

  Joshua hurried over, limping with his cane, and helped her up. "Are you all right?"

  She nodded, pushing a loosened lock of red hair off her forehead.

  "Why are you so stubborn?"

  "You bring out the best in me," she said, wiping dirt off her face with her useless lace handkerchief.

  He sighed. "Let's get you into the shop and see if we can repair your dress. It's got a tear the size of South Carolina near the hem."

  She turned to examine her dress. There was a ragged rip in the cotton calico. It was too bad because the dress with the blue floral pattern was her favorite. It was all Joshua's fault, too. If he hadn't been so annoying, she'd have gotten down more slowly. Irritable and more than a little embarrassed, she flounced onto the boardwalk and into the mercantile.

  * * *

  After a few minutes of haggling, Verity had fulfilled her list of things to buy, and was safely in the back with Mrs. Dobson, having her dress temporarily repaired. Joshua waited patiently, giving the store a long look as he tried to remember if he'd ever been there before. No memory of the place returned, though the items for sale were all familiar to him.

  When Mr. Dobson made his appearance from the back door, Joshua gave him a friendly greeting and introduced himself as Joshua Smith. They got to talking.

  "Nice weather we're having," Dobson began.

  "A bit unseasonable for October," Joshua replied, wondering how he knew that. Was he from around these parts?

  "Warmer than last year."

  "Yes. Nice store you have here."

  Dobson's chest got a bit puffed out. "Best mercantile in all of Arizona Territory. We have everything." He gestured around the store. "Are you looking for something specific?"

  "Well, actually, I'm looking for a job."

  "A job? You related to the Bucknells?"

  "No, sir. I'm a boarder with them, temporarily."

  "Oh, you're the fella Miss Faith's been talking to my Dotty about. So you're here temporarily? You got somewhere to go?"

  "I'm waiting for my leg to heal, then I'm off to… find myself."

  "Where?"

  "Frankly, I don't know."

  "Wanderer, are you? Faith said you got clonked on the head and lost your memory. Well, I don't have no job for you, I'm afraid, especially since you're gimpy. But I understand they're looking for a new barkeep over at the Horn Inn."

  "Where's that, exactly?"

  "Oh, about a block down and turn left on Calamine Street."

  "Thank you, kindly," Joshua said, offering his hand. Verity came out from the back at that moment.

  Dobson eyed him and then Verity. "I'll give you a bit of advice, son," he said, leaning toward Joshua while Verity picked up a thimble from a table full of them. "She's the bossy one. If you're looking to settle in Virtue, go for Faith. She's got spirit, but she's flexible and obedient."

  Smiling, Joshua answered. "Thank you, Mr. Dobson. I'll keep that in mind."

  Dobson nodded and said something else. "If you decide to stop being 'temporary' and stay in Virtue, come see me when your leg is working right. I could use someone to deliver things, load wagons and haul sacks of flour and such. A strapping fella like you would be good at that."

  "That's very kind of you. I'm sure I'll heal soon."

  The older man seemed satisfied with that. "Don't worry about your goods. They'll be ready in your wagon."

  Verity walked up. "Come, Mr. Smith, we must go get Hope."

  Joshua smiled, and Dobson mouthed "bossy" behind Verity's back as she stalked out of the store.

  Chapter Nine

  "Lead the way," Joshua said as Verity followed him out. He watched her bum as she swayed down the boardwalk. It was a pleasant sight. It made him itch to take hold of it again, even to give it a swat or two. Would she like it if it wasn't a punishment spank? Hard to know. And he'd probably never find out. He'd caught her looking at him a few times lately. Her gaze spoke of interest, possibly contemplation of what could have been, had he been available and less unknown. It galled him to think that under the right circumstances, there could have been something special there. What they'd shared was exceptional, and he had a guilty feeling he wasn't the kind of man to kiss and run. Yet, here he was, doing that very thing.

  He limped along beside her, enjoying the warmth and fresh air. They were about four doors away from the Ladies’ Emporium when someone, a woman, came running up behind them.

  "Wait!" she cried. "Stop, please."

  They both turned. "Why if it isn't Bertha Harrison!" Verity said. "Bertha, slow down. We'll wait."

  Bertha, huffing and puffing a bit, did slow to a fast walk. In a minute, she'd caught them.

  "I'm so glad I caught you," she said.

  Verity smiled and patted Bertha on the arm. "Well, you've got our attention. Bertha Harrison, please allow me to introduce Joshua Smith." She gestured between the two. Bertha was a young woman, perhaps his own age, about thirty. She had frazzled brown hair, lovely gray eyes, and wore a calico dress of brown and cream. It was obvious she was a farmer's wife, with her sturdy shoes and ruddy complexion.

  Joshua tipped his hat. "My pleasure, ma'am."

  Bertha had caught her breath. "Mine as well." Her gaze went to Verity. "How are things, Verity?"

  "Well, well. Thank you. But I wonder what has you in a tizzy."

  "Sorry 'bout that. I need Mr. Smith's help and I need it quick."

  "My help? How can I help you?" He tapped the cane on the wooden boardwalk, to indicate that he wasn't good for much.

  "My son, Frank, has gone to Tucson with his father to pick up a brand new stove for me. It's one of those newfangled gas models with six burners. Can you imagine?"

  "What a wonderful improvement," Verity said.

  "Yes. Well, it's left me in the lurch while they're gone. My eggs need to be delivered every day, twice a day."

  "Your other children are definitely too young to do that."

  "That's right."

  Joshua was getting an inkling of what was coming, and he cringed inside. He couldn't imagine himself doing a child's job like delivering eggs.

  Bertha went on. "Mr. Dobson said Mr. Smith was looking for a job, and I thought, why not?" Her eyes foc
used on Joshua and he smiled, though he was far from thrilled. Still, it would be money.

  "My leg won't be healed for a while yet," he warned. "How do you normally deliver the eggs?"

  "In baskets in a cart. Our mule, Bucky, draws it. He's easy to handle and gentle on the eggs. Can you drive a cart?"

  "Yes, ma'am, I can. But you have to understand, Smith is not my name."

  "Oh, I know all about that. Miss Faith told the girls at Sunday school and it got back to me through one of the mothers. You don't even remember your own name? Must be a powerful burden."

  An understatement if ever there was one, but he didn't point that out. "You could say it's inconvenient. I take it this would be a temporary job?"

  She nodded. "Just until my Johnny and Frank get home. 'Bout two weeks. It pays good, Mr. Smith. I'm over a barrel because I can't do it myself with little ones at home."

  Verity spoke up. "There aren't any teenagers in town who would be better suited than Mr. Smith? I find it hard to believe a grown man worth his salt would be amenable to the task."

  Why would Verity sabotage a potential job? Did she want him to remain destitute and a burden on her family? And her comment was mighty insulting as well.

  "No, Miss Verity. They're either too young or too good for a job like this. Little snots, if you ask me. It's a perfectly good job."

  "Mr. Smith has other commitments," Verity answered, giving him a sidelong glance that warned him to say no. What other commitments he had, he couldn't possibly say. It was annoying in the extreme to be put in this position. He needed the job!

  A bird in the hand… even if it meant lowering his pride. "I'll take it, Mrs. Harrison. When do I start?"

  "Can you start today?"

  "Yes, ma'am, I—"

  "He is mistaken. We have other engagements today," Verity insisted, interrupting.