Another Chance

by Michelle Beattie

  His shoulders dropped as the worry slid away. Yet he didn't say thank you, didn't acknowledge her skills. The omission stung because she knew good and well his old Doc Fletcher would have gotten a hearty handshake and likely a solid pat on the back.

  She wasn't the kind of woman who needed pretty words. All she'd ever wanted was to be accepted for who she was, a woman who also happened to be a skilled doctor. Good Lord in Heaven, why was it so blasted hard for a man to accept that?

  Annoyed, she hurried through cleaning her instruments, but was careful when she placed them back into her bags. Standing, she grimaced at the squishing sounds coming from her boots.

  Down the aisle, Hope's snuffle caught Jillian's attention. Scott had stepped back into the barn. He stopped as he passed the horse and spoke in a gentle way, his eyes locked with those of her horse as he scratched her withers. Jillian watched, mesmerized, as Hope nickered and leaned into Scott.

  "He's got a way with animals, especially horses," James said.

  Jillian marveled when Scott walked toward them and Hope stared lovingly at his back. He set a shovel against the wall.

  "I buried it far enough away that it shouldn't attract any trouble."

  "Thanks," Wade said.

  Jillian gnashed her teeth. His ranch hand, who'd done nothing more than bury the afterbirth, got the man's thanks when she didn't get so much as a nod of gratitude? Her gaze went to the shovel Scott had returned. She was sorely tempted to use it.

  "Miz Matthews," James approached, his hand outstretched, "That was fine work. Thank you."

  His hand was calloused, his grip firm. Because it was the same handshake he'd have given a man, Jillian smiled, knowing she'd gained at least one man's approval. And if she had one man's then hopefully-

  Wade's head snapped back as though slapped. "Wait! Did you say Matthews?"

  Seeing the shock in his eyes, Jillian braced for an even fiercer storm than the one that raged outside. James' brow furrowed, then the wrinkles smoothed out as realization dawned.

  "We introduced ourselves when you were gone fetching the water. This here's Jillian Matthews, she's the new vet."

  Wade's face went crimson. His chest heaved.

  Jillian crossed her arms. "I responded to the advertisement and was given the position."

  "No. Miles and I read through the replies for our post together and we offered the position to the most qualified man that responded. A Jared Matthews."

  It was the first time Jillian had heard her father's name spoken since his funeral a month ago. For a moment, she cherished the sound, held it close as though, somehow, she was holding him.

  "That's not possible. Jared was my father and he died last month."

  "If he's gone how is it that-"

  James put a hand on Wade's arm. "Let's go inside. We could all do with a cup of coffee and I'm sure Miz Matthews would appreciate a chance to get dry."

  Extending him the same courtesy he showed her, Jillian ignored Wade and turned her eyes to James. "I'd love a cup of coffee, thank you."

  She could almost feel the frost form in the air. "Fine," Wade muttered. "We'll finish this inside."

  Lightning shot for the ground outside the open door. Thunderclap rattled the building. Lifting the collar of her slicker against the wind and rain, and hoping the menacing weather wasn't a sign of what awaited her in the house, Jillian trailed Wade across the yard and into the house.

  The smell of fresh coffee greeted her like a warm blanket.

  Mrs. Parker was there to take her slicker and hat. "I've set warm water and clean towels for you upstairs, the door on the left. Wade, dear, I've set a basin and some dry clothes for you in the parlor."

  Cold and wet, Jillian didn't argue. Lifting the hem of her soiled riding skirt, she padded up the stairs, stepped into the room, and closed the door. Immediately the masculinity of the space hit her and she realized that she'd been sent to Wade's room.

  A dresser displayed a handful of coins and a comb. A blue quilt covered the bed. At the end of the mattress was a pine chest with a pair of pants tossed over it.

  She'd been courted by Clint for almost a year. They'd gone to dinner, gone dancing, gone to the theatre. She'd seen him dressed in his best suit and dirty in his working clothes. They'd kissed, held each other close. Yet none of those events had been as intimate as standing there, where the scent of leather, hay and man clung to the log walls. Where his presence breathed in the room.

  Realizing she was standing there like a ninny thinking of how Wade's room smelled rather than getting her wet, clinging clothes off, Jillian gathered what she needed from her saddlebags.

  She was here for one thing and one thing only, she reminded herself. There was no room in her life for men, especially selfish, short-sighted ones who couldn't accept that a woman was capable of more than cooking and raising babies. Not that Jillian had a problem with that; she enjoyed cooking and though she hadn't spent much time around children, had always hoped to have some one day. But that didn't mean she couldn't do more. Didn't need to do more.

  She was amply qualified to be this town's vet and she aimed to ensure that, before this night was over, Mr. Parker understood that he had hired the best doctor for the job.

  ***

  The murmur of voices grew louder as Jillian--dressed in dry skirt, blouse, and stockings--descended the stairs. Light from the kitchen spilled onto the entryway floor, creating a pale glow on the worn wooden surface.

  "We were just talking about you," Mrs. Parker said when Jillian stepped into the kitchen.

  Jillian's gaze flew to the table where Wade and James sat. She acknowledged James with a smile, but it was Wade who commanded her attention. He'd taken off his hat, but hadn't combed his hair. Damp, sandy brown waves fell onto his forehead. His jaw was dark with stubble. His accusatory gaze followed her to the table. Oh, she had little doubt they'd been talking about her. And even less doubt that Wade had had anything positive to say.

  Mrs. Parker pulled out one of the chairs that rimmed the table. "Sit. I'll get you some coffee."

  Jillian had barely taken her seat before Wade leaned forward, arms braced on the table.

  "I assume you have an explanation for misleading us about who you were?"

  Mrs. Parker's simple calico skirt swooshed as she spun round. Her honey-colored eyes flashed.

  "You're interrogation can wait until the poor woman's had a chance to get some coffee." She held her ground, finger still pointed until Wade slumped back in his chair. Only then did she turn back to the stove.

  James, with a twinkle in his eye, gave Jillian a wink. Before long Wade's mother had placed a steaming cup before Jillian. Ignoring a scowling Wade, Jillian wrapped her cold hands around the mug. Heat seeped into her chilled palms. Not caring that she'd likely burn her tongue, Jillian took a sip of the bold brew and sighed as it warmed her throat and belly.

  Her moment of peace was shattered all too soon.

  "I'm still waiting."

  "Wade!"

  "It's all right, Mrs. Parker."

  "It's Eileen. We don't stand much on formality around here." She shot Wade another glare. "As you can obviously see."

  Wade once again rested his forearms on the table, intertwined his long fingers. The hard lines of his jaw said the little patience he'd been hanging onto was gone. "She lied to us and I want to know why."

  Jillian set her cup down. Hard. Wade wasn't the only one losing patience. "I never lied to you or anybody else."

  "Is that what you call never once saying you were a woman? You signed all your correspondence with the letter J. If you weren't lying, why didn't you use your full name?"

  "Wade, it's late. I think this can all wait until morning."

  "It's all right Eileen, I can answer this." Jillian shifted forward in her chair. "I didn't sign my full name because you advertised for a trained veterinarian and that is exactly what I am. I suspected, rightly so as it turns out, that if I signed Jillian you wouldn't hire me. As to my fathe
r, I have no idea how you even came to know of him."

  "When you first sent your letter of interest we telegraphed Philadelphia, asked for information on J. Matthews. All the information that came back about a vet in Philadelphia was for Jared Matthews."

  Jillian finished her coffee, pushed the cup aside. "I'm not responsible for that. Clearly you sent away for this information prior to his passing."

  "Regardless. This," he said waving his hand in her direction, "isn't what we asked for."

  "Wade Parker!" Eileen hissed. Though James said nothing, his scowl said he didn't think too highly of Wade's words either.

  "Ma, the town entrusted me and Doc to find Doc's replacement. They're not going to be happy about this and I don't have time to soothe feathers nor to start looking for another doctor." He glared at Jillian, laying the blame at her feet.

  Jillian grabbed the last edge of her temper before it snapped wildly. She'd come west to practice medicine. Nobody back east wanted a female vet. She'd believed moving west, where trained veterinarians were in shorter supply, would be the answer. That the need for her skills would matter more than her gender. That there might actually be a man out west open-minded enough to acknowledge her skills. That she wouldn't have to fight, every single day, to be accepted.

  She took a deep breath, knowing she had to convince Mr. Parker that he hadn't made a mistake. Moving back home wasn't a possibility. Not only would it mean giving up her dream of being a veterinarian, but it would also prove Clint right. And after the way he'd treated her, she'd never give him the satisfaction of seeing her back in Philadelphia.

  She forced a smile she didn't feel. "I have no doubt my being a woman is a shock to you. I realize it's not common, but I assure you that I am everything I claimed to be. My father, as I'm sure you know if you've sent for information on him, was the most highly sought after veterinarian in Philadelphia. He was schooled in London. He taught in many cities and towns in Pennsylvania. I learned at his hand and worked alongside him for years.

  "I assure you, Mr. Parker, that you won't be disappointed in having hired me. All I ask is that you give me a chance to prove so." Jillian gestured to the darkness behind the windows. "Now if you'll excuse me, it's time I got home. Eileen, thank you for the coffee."

  Jillian took her cup to the counter and almost bumped into the other woman when she turned around.

  "Jillian, it's the middle of the night. The rain isn't letting up. I won't have you going home in this weather." As though to prove her point a gust of wind splattered a sheet of water against the window.

  "Eileen, it's fine. I'll be home in-"

  She held up a hand. "No, I won't have it. You've been through enough tonight. Not only has my son been unquestionably rude, but you've worked hard. Surely you must be tired."

  "Exhausted," Jillian answered. "Which is why-"

  "Then it's settled. You'll stay the night. Let me just change the sheets on Wade's bed, and then you can go on up and get some sleep."

  "What?" Jillian sputtered.

  Wade leapt to his feet. "Ma!"

  James chuckled and slipped out of the kitchen as Wade's ma ignored them all and went upstairs.

  THREE

  Wade drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the moist air. Exhaling slowly, he rolled his shoulders, tried to relax. Another hell of a day he'd had. The work that needed to get done multiplied faster than rabbits, but the time and money needed to accomplish it seemed to do the complete opposite.

  It wasn't only the ranch that required his money and attention, however. He also had Annabelle, his eight year-old daughter, to consider. And now, thanks to Jillian Matthews, the added responsibility of having to hire a new vet, which would take yet more time away from the ranch. Again. Was it any wonder he couldn't seem to get himself out of debt?

  He exhaled heavily as the responsibility of it all jammed up between his shoulder blades.

  The vet was an expense he couldn't afford, but neither could he afford to lose the animal. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. He could use a good shot of whiskey but knowing his mother would be all too happy to discuss the woman who was probably now nestled between his sheets, and knowing Scott wouldn't have any, Wade tugged his hat low and angled for James's bunkhouse.

  He hurried through the downpour, past his mother's garden. The smell of mud followed him to James' door. There were three cabins in total; James occupied the first in the row. Scott, who'd been with him for five years, slept in the middle one. The last one was vacant, and other than needing to be cleaned, it would work for another hand when the ranch was doing better and he could afford to pay one. Days like today, however, that seemed further than ever.

  "It's open," James called after Wade's knock.

  Wade took off his hat, stepped in and closed the door. The cabin was small but accommodated a table and two chairs, a few cupboards, a bookshelf and a bunk along the back wall. James sat reading a book under the lantern, which hung off a rusty nail just over his bed.

  "Why do I get the feeling you were expecting me?"

  James peered at him over the cover of his book. "I know Eileen. No way was she going to let that filly go home tonight. And I knew you wouldn't cotton to sleeping in the parlor."

  Wade tugged off his muddy boots and dumped his wet jacket on top. In sock feet he unrolled the bedroll James kept by his door and laid it next to the table. His foreman was right. The couch in the parlor was hardly long enough for three small people to sit side by side. He couldn't cram his six feet onto it without having his knees pressed to his armpits all night. And with his ma and daughter sharing the only other bedroom, that didn't leave Wade with a whole lot of options.

  "Got any whiskey?"

  "You know where I keep it."

  Wade took a clean cup from the counter and poured himself a healthy dose. He downed it in one swallow.

  The fire burned a swath clear to his stomach.

  Sitting on the bedroll, Wade tugged off his socks and shirt then sprawled on the blankets, the wool rough on his back. Damn he wished he were in his own bed.

  "That was some fine doctorin' she did."

  Wade sighed. So much for getting any peace in here. "I guess she did all right."

  "All right? She sat in your decrepit barn, up to her knees in mud and blood and still managed to save two of your animals. I'd say she did a mighty fine job."

  "Fine," he conceded, albeit grudgingly. "She saved my animals."

  "It was a shock to see a woman come in when we were expecting old Doc, though, wasn't it?"

  Wade stacked his hands beneath his head. "I was sure it was you and Scott up to your no good tricks again."

  "Wish we could take the credit. Lord knows it would've been our best yet. But seeing as how it wasn't, I'd say we came out ahead of the bargain."

  "How do you figure that?"

  "Not only is Miz Matthews a fine doctor, but she's pretty as a picture too."

  "Hell, here we go," Wade grumbled.

  "Amy's been gone for a while now, Wade. It don't hurt to look at other women."

  "James, I get enough of this from Ma."

  "Well, she's right. You haven't looked at another woman since Amy died."

  "I don't have time. I have the new barn to finish before the wedding, a ranch to get back on its feet and a daughter to raise." Besides that, there was no way in hell he'd ever get mixed up with a woman like Jillian. Sure she was pretty, but Amy had been pretty too. He'd loved his wife, would have given his life for her. And still it hadn't been enough.

  "Those are all fine excuses Wade, but the wedding is mine and I'm paying for it. You're hardly alone raising Annabelle, you have your ma and me, not to mention Scott. And as for the barn, I told you that I'd help. Hell, I've told you since your pa died that I'd-"

  "I'm not taking your money, James. This is my ranch and I'm-"

  "Just as damn stubborn as your father," James finished. "He wouldn't let me help him either."

  "It's not help, James, it's ch
arity, and I'm not taking it." Wade rolled to his side and jammed the pillow beneath his head. He'd make his own way. It was enough that the town knew he was almost broke; he wouldn't be able to hold his up at all if word got out that James or anybody else was paying his bills.

  The small bunkhouse fell quiet. The tension in his shoulders was starting to ease and his eyes were drifting shut when James' chuckle rumbled from the end of the cabin.

  "Miz Matthews sure got under your skin. I don't think I've seen a fire give off more sparks."

  "I don't appreciate being made a fool of, not to mention the position her lie has put me in."

  "Or maybe you just don't appreciate the way she reminds you of what you've been missing."

  Wade rolled to his other side, wide awake again. He jabbed at his pillow some more in an attempt to get comfortable. The only reason Jillian had gotten under his skin was because of the misconception she'd deliberately created. It had nothing to do with the punch to the gut he'd first felt when those green eyes had met his. It had nothing to do with the heat that had licked along his skin when she'd stretched, when her breasts had strained against her blouse. And it especially had nothing to do with the fact that, even now, he couldn't help but wonder, was she naked in his bed?

  ***

  "Who are you?"

  Jillian dragged her way through a thick fog of dreams and pried her eyes open. A young girl with dark braids and sparkling blue eyes stood next to the bed, her small arms crossed over her chest. Her foot tapped the floor as she awaited an answer.

  Jillian pushed herself to a sitting position as last night's events streamed through her mind. Though it now made sense why she was in a room that wasn't her own, it didn't explain who this child was.

  "Who are you?" she countered.

  "Annabelle. Why are you in my papa's bed?"

  Jillian blinked. "Your papa?" Wade had a daughter? She looked around the room again in case there was something she'd missed last night, but it remained the same sparsely furnished, masculine room. If he had a daughter, where was his wife? And why wasn't she sleeping in his bed?