by Lisa Cooke
He didn’t.
Instead he tightened his hold as they followed Julia down the street. Katie could feel her face heating and just when his thumb rubbed a small circle on the back of her hand, Julia bounded back to reclaim her spot. Her bounding didn’t stop until they were inside Frank’s store, and it was finally time to share Mrs. Adkins’s secret instructions.
Frank leaned over the counter to hear the little messenger better. “And what is it you need, Miss Julia?”
She beamed and announced, “Three peppermint sticks, please.”
“Peppermint?” John asked.
Julia nodded her head with utmost seriousness. “And she said we weren’t to come back until we’d ’et ’em clear gone.”
Chapter Fourteen
In the two days since she’d seen John, Katie had done a lot of thinking. As a result, she decided she needed to quit thinking so much about John. It was interfering with her decisions concerning her fiancés, and it wasn’t helping get her chores done either.
Of course not thinking about him was going to be tough, especially today since she was heading into town to work for him. She’d just have to think about his library and Julia, and what she was planning to fix for supper, and why he had looked at her lips like he wanted to taste them, and how he had continued to hold her hand when she’d given him the opportunity to turn loose.
Shoot. There she was, thinking about him again.
The crunching of dried leaves snapped her attention away from John and into the woods. Another snap and a low growl sent her heart into her throat. Clutching her stick in front of her, she scanned the forest for a sign of whatever was lurking. Just when she had about convinced herself her imagination was running wild, a large wolf appeared from behind a boulder. The hair around its neck stood on end as it lowered its massive head and growled. With a curl of its lips, the beast bared huge fangs, snarling as it walked toward her.
Heart pounding, she gripped her stick firmly and faced the animal, praying it had no companions. She turned slowly, not breaking eye contact as it circled. Her only chance was going to be timing her swing to connect with its head if it attacked. She didn’t have to wait long. The beast released a feral roar and lunged toward her throat. Swinging with all her might, she slammed her stick into the side of the huge head, sending the attacker whimpering off into the woods.
She turned and ran down the path, stick clutched in her hand, but in her haste she fell, banging her knee painfully against a rock. Scrambling to her feet, she continued her escape until she emerged from the woods onto the road that led to town, where she finally allowed herself the luxury of breathing. Gasping, she dropped onto a log beside the road, her eyes searching behind her in case the creature had followed.
Her palms stung, and a quick glance showed them bleeding from her fall. But at least it wasn’t her throat. With shaking legs, she got to her feet and forced herself to walk the remaining distance to John’s house.
“My God, what happened?” John exclaimed when he answered the door. Katie stood before him, muddy and bleeding, her shaking hand clutching a stick.
“I was attacked by—by a wolf.”
His heart dropped and without further thought, he scooped her into his arms and hurried her into his office. “Did it bite you?” He set her in a chair and began unbuttoning her coat.
“No,” she muttered, her voice shaky. “I fell when I was running away.”
He pulled her coat down her arm, but had to stop when he encountered her stick. “Katie?” She looked up at him, her breathing still labored, a large tear rolling down her cheek. “You can let go of the stick now.”
Forcing her fingers to relax, she let the stick fall to the floor with a clatter, and John saw her bloody palm.
“Hell,” he said. “Where else are you hurt?”
“Um…” She paused, and he could tell she was forcing her mind to work. “I think my knee might be bleeding.”
Quickly, he removed her coat, then crossed the room to retrieve bandages and salve for her wounds. He returned and knelt in front of her. “Which knee?” he asked, scooting her skirts up her legs.
She pointed to the right one, but she didn’t really need to. The blood seeping through her torn stocking was a dead giveaway. He started to pull the stocking down, stopping himself when he realized he’d need to go well up her thigh to loosen the garter.
“Can you pull down your stocking?”
Nodding, she asked, “Would you turn around?”
He wanted to remind her he was a doctor, but then, if he was only a doctor, the thought of touching her thigh wouldn’t have rattled him like it did.
He stood and walked to a washstand to get some water while the rustle of fabrics and a tiny gasp told him she’d pulled the stocking away from her injury.
“I’m finished.” Her voice sounded more like hers now that the shock was diminishing.
He took a deep breath and faced her. She’d tucked her skirt around her other leg, leaving only the injured one exposed, her stocking dangling around her ankle and above a very worn boot. How on earth did she walk in those things?
Dragging a footstool over in front of her, he sat and began washing the blood from her knee. “Tell me what happened.”
He’d intended to keep her talking so she wouldn’t dwell on the fact that he was digging bits of rock and soil from her leg. But as she told of her attack, he found he was the one in need of distraction. The image of a large wolf, ripping her open on the trail, left his hand shaking.
“Do you think you killed it?” he asked, as he carefully wrapped a bandage around her knee.
“No. I don’t think I hit it hard enough.”
He raked his hand down her calf, telling himself he was only checking for injury until he came to the dangling stocking. “I’m afraid your stocking is ruined.”
“I can mend it.” She lowered her skirt off her thigh to cover her leg and for a second he felt like a lecherous animal. She was injured, and he was thinking about how smooth her calf felt in his palm. He hoped in her shaken state, she hadn’t been aware.
“Let me see your hands.”
Rolling her palms upward, he took her hands in his, so small, so delicate. The scrapes weren’t as bad as the knee, but they still needed to be tended. A careful washing and some salve left him with the last of his tasks. Placing his finger under her chin, he lifted it so he could examine her face. A small abrasion marred the satin skin covering her cheekbone.
“Is my face hurt too?”
“A little. Can’t you feel it?”
She shook her head, a wan smile lifting her lips. “The knee hurts too much to feel anything else, I guess.”
“Your knee took quite a hit. You’re going to have to keep salve on it so it won’t get infected.”
She nodded slightly, raising her eyes to look at him while he laid his hand against her face to clean her cheek. The silky softness was like touching a porcelain doll. And before he could stop the impulse, his thumb stroked across her face, painfully close to her lips, which parted, drawing him toward them just as Mrs. Adkins walked into the room.
“I heard Katie come in and thought she’d like some tea.” She set a tray on his desk, then faced Katie with a gasp. “Good Lord, Katie! What happened?”
“She fell,” John answered, dropping his hand as though it were on fire. He dabbed a bit of salve on her cheek, then did his best to act as though he hadn’t almost kissed Katie.
Katie told Mrs. Adkins about the attack while John put away his supplies, trying to sort through his feelings. The ringing of his door chime interrupted both his musings and Mrs. Adkins’s fussing, as the old woman hurried to answer the door.
A thin woman in a tattered coat stepped hesitantly into his office, dragging a young child behind her.
“Hi, Polly,” Katie said, obviously recognizing the visitors.
Polly smiled at Katie. “They said you was here and could maybe take a look at my boy.” She ushered the lad to Katie’s cha
ir and rolled up his sleeve. A putrid bandage, saturated with blood and who knew what else, was wrapped around his lower arm.
“Billy cut his arm on the fence a few days ago, and I think it’s corrupted.”
John stepped over to take a look, but Polly didn’t seem too pleased with that possibility. She pulled Billy closer to her side. “Katie can fix this.”
Katie raised her injured hands. “Right now, I’m laid up myself. You need to let Dr. Keffer tend to Billy.”
Polly frowned and glanced at John.
“I assure you I’m qualified to deal with this,” he said. “May I take a look?”
She looked back at Katie, who nodded her encouragement, before reluctantly leading Billy across the room to John.
Billy reached out his arm as though he was sure John was going to rip it off at the shoulder. And from the looks of the wound, the boy might have been better off. The filthy bandage had only managed to hold the infection in, and God only knew what treatment the mother had applied to the injury.
Based on the smell…“What is this?” John asked.
“Sheep dung.”
Sheep dung. The woman had smeared sheep dung on an open wound and wondered why it was infected.
“My ma always used it, and it works fine.”
There was no sense in trying to explain to her about bacteria. Many people still didn’t believe in Pasteur’s germ theory, but those who didn’t needed to look at this boy’s arm.
“This time, I think we should try another approach.” He motioned for the mother to take a seat and allow Billy to sit on her lap.
“We’re going to have to clean this out, Billy, and it’s going to hurt some. Can you be a brave young man?”
Billy’s lip trembled slightly as he nodded his head. John fetched a clean bowl of water and some supplies while Katie distracted the child with the tale of her falling. She’d omitted the part about the wolf and soon had the boy laughing instead at her clumsiness.
Cleaning the wound as gently as possible, John liberally applied a coat of antiseptic salve and rewrapped Billy’s arm with a clean bandage. He had to admire the little fellow. He’d only winced a couple of times during the procedure. John handed the mother some clean bandages and a jar of the salve.
“I’ll need to see him again in a couple of days. Make sure you clean this twice a day and only put this salve and clean bandages on it when you’re finished.”
Polly dropped her gaze to the supplies, then swallowed. “I cain’t pay you with money.”
“That’s all right,” John answered, trying to figure out how to save the woman’s pride enough to get her to return. Billy could easily lose his arm, if not his life, if she didn’t.
“Polly makes the best blackberry jam in the area.” Katie’s comment brought a smile to Polly’s face.
“I do make good jam. Do you like blackberry jam, Doctor?”
John smiled. “Absolutely.”
“I’ll bring you some when I bring the boy back.” Polly ushered her son out of the house, leaving the office quiet once more. Katie had known how to ease Polly’s discomfort.
Jam.
Who’d have thought of that?
“Thank you,” he said to Katie.
“No need to thank me.”
But there was. This had been his first patient, and if the child’s arm didn’t fall off, she would tell her friends and soon others would follow. Of course, it appeared as though his larder would be filled as opposed to his bank account, but he didn’t need money anyway.
He’d been born filthy rich. He’d gone into medicine for the challenge and because it’d irritated his grandfather to no end. Now suddenly he’d found another reason. If he hadn’t intervened, Billy would’ve died from infection. Might still, but at least his chances were far better now. He could make a difference with these people.
And get a lot of jam.
“Dr. Keffer?” Katie’s question brought him back from his newfound insights. “I need to fix my stocking so I can walk around without falling over it.”
He looked at her, sitting in the chair, the autumn sun shining through the window behind her illuminating her like the angel she had just proven herself to be. “I’ll go tell Mrs. Adkins we’re ready for lunch.”
Katie’s pace declined only slightly as they worked in the library after lunch, but John didn’t miss the way she watched the time. He’d suggested they quit early, in deference to her injury, but she insisted she felt fine. Then sometime during the afternoon it hit him. She was afraid to walk home.
“I’m going to walk you home,” he blurted as soon as he realized her concern. It never dawned on him that she would’ve assumed otherwise.
“Oh, you don’t have to…” She paused during her attempted refusal and looked up at him with relief. “But I’d appreciate that.”
“How long does it take?”
“About an hour.”
An hour? She walked an hour to get to town? “Why don’t you bring a wagon?”
“We don’t have one.” She immediately began sorting books again, and he suspected she wasn’t willing to discuss the topic anymore.
“If it takes an hour, we should probably get on our way.”
Katie nodded, standing stiffly to her feet. He wished he had a wagon, but they hadn’t needed one, living in town. He could offer her the guest room for the night, but it wouldn’t be proper, and her family would be worried sick if she didn’t return tonight. An hour of walking with a sore knee appeared to be Katie’s only option.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he said, leaving the library and heading straight for his den. After retrieving his revolver, holster, and a handful of shells from a locked box on the mantel, he joined Katie by the door.
She’d already pulled on her coat, her stick clutched firmly in her bandaged hand. Her eyes immediately landed on the gun strapped to his hip. “You have a gun?”
“I think under the circumstances, it’s a good idea.”
“He’s a big wolf.”
“I’m a good shot.” Did he just wink at her? Surely not. He hadn’t winked at a woman since college; of course, that was also the last time he’d done any target shooting. Hopefully that skill hadn’t been forgotten either.
The first part of the journey was easy enough. Down the street a few blocks until a wagon road took over for the brick. Then the road split again, heading for the forest and the hills. John kept his eyes and ears open as they walked through the trees, deeper and deeper into the wild.
“How much land does your family own?” he asked when the conversation stilled. She was frightened, and talking was the best way he knew to deal with that.
“Not much. Only about three hundred acres.”
“Does your father farm?”
“Used to. But he hurt his back, so his farming has been cut back a bit. He mostly just grows beans and potatoes now. Enough for us to eat.”
John couldn’t imagine living on beans and potatoes. “Is that all you eat?”
She laughed. “No, Dr. Keffer, we have chickens and a cow, and I get a lot of things from the people I treat.”
“Like jam?”
“Like jam. I also sell eggs in town so I can buy flour and the like.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding as though he understood. But he didn’t. He’d always left that sort of thing up to his servants, never worrying about where the food came from. In New York, it simply came from the kitchen. He’d never even purchased food until taking over for Mrs. Adkins in order to meet people at Frank’s store. It was like falling into another world, and the farther he walked into the forest, the further away his old world seemed.
Katie suddenly started looking around, nervously. “This is where he attacked me this morning.”
John removed his gun from his holster. “Which direction did he come from?”
She pointed to a large boulder situated in front of a rock cliff. John took a step toward what appeared to be a den area, but made it no more than a few feet be
fore the animal growled and lunged at him from the darkness.
John fired three shots into the massive beast, dropping it just six feet in front of him.
“Is it dead?” Katie asked.
With any luck at all, but at the moment he was still too shaken to speak. Gun in hand, he walked close enough to the creature to nudge its side with his boot. When the animal didn’t respond by ripping off his leg, he released a pent-up breath. “Yeah, I think he’s dead.”
She cautiously stepped up beside him.
“Is this your attacker?” he asked, hoping like hell it was.
“Is there a welt on his head where I walloped him?”
John leaned closer to look and sure enough, a mark from Katie’s stick slashed across the wolf’s head. “That looks like your handiwork.”
She visibly relaxed, then looked up at him with a smile. “Thank you.”
Pride did strange things to a man. Though he’d never considered himself to be the type to slay dragons, the look in this damsel’s eyes had him rethinking that stand. “My pleasure.” And it was.
“I think I can make it from here, if you want to go on home.”
He holstered his gun. “I’d feel better if I walked you the rest of the way. Wolves usually hunt in packs, don’t they?”
He hadn’t intended to frighten her, but he had no intention of letting her walk alone either. Katie only nodded her response and they left the wolf to head on toward the Napiers’ home. It seemed like every time they came to a fork in the road, Katie took the one less traveled. Finally the road followed a stream until she left even that to pick her steps atop several large stones crossing the water. On the other side, a dirt path meandered up the side of a hill to an old log cabin.
Curling smoke rolled from the stone chimney and over the moss-covered roof. A large wooden porch spread across the front of the house, closer inspection revealing a need to watch his step. Several of the boards on the porch appeared rotted to the point of collapsing. Rot-ation of that sort could be dangerous.
A large coonhound lay by the front door, the only sign of life being a thumping of its tail against the floor when Katie stooped to scratch his ear. “Don’t worry about Ol’ Blue. He won’t hurt you.”
