by Kris Norris
“But?” She scoffed at him. “There was definitely a but coming, so…”
“While I’m not saying you aren’t qualified, I’m not sure how well-received you’ll be.”
She smirked. “So, you’re saying that the men in this camp would rather die at the hands of a barber pretendin’ to be a doctor than be saved by a woman who really is one.”
It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t miss the piercing tone.
He sighed, leaning back against a desk. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“Then, the men here have all spent far too much time in the hot sun.” She pointed at the telegram. “None of which matters. I was hired, plain and simple.” She leaned in closer, her breath rustling the edge of his shirt. “And just to make things clear, even I didn’t want to come out this far. It’s no secret how many men you lose on a daily basis, or the risks involved in merely taking the train to get here. There isn’t anyone else willin’ to apply for the job. As it is, Mr. Gilmore had to guarantee my wage for the next three months, regardless of whether I stay or not. Thinkin’ it’s in your best interest to show me to the clinic—put me to work.” She straightened, plastering on a sweet smile. “Unless you’d rather have the barber continue on as he has. I know where you can get a whole jug full of leeches for next to nothing.”
Lucas took a step forward, offering her the scrunched paper. “With all due respect, Doc… We can’t force the townsfolk to accept you, regardless of your credentials. Afraid the men that work the rails aren’t quite as forward thinkin’ as other, more refined folks. They tend to think a woman has a certain place.”
She hitched out one hip. “Let me guess. On their backs with their legs spread wide?”
He coughed, glancing at Cullen as if seeking help.
Cullen pushed to his feet. “Right or wrong, it’s the way things are in a rail camp, being they’re so transient. The women that travel with us up the spur are either wives or painted ladies. Maybe a teacher or a seamstress if we get lucky. Other than that…”
Hollis laughed, the tension easing from her body. “I see. Well then, I suppose I’ll just head on over to the saloon. Bide my time until I can catch another train out of here. As I said…I’ve been paid either way.”
She placed the telegram on the desk behind him, giving him one more long sweeping gaze. Then, she tipped her hat and spun, making it to the door before looking back at them. “Shame, though. The railroad can’t afford to send you anyone else. Guess that means you’ll need those leeches, after all. Good day, gentlemen.”
She opened the door then picked up her bags, her silhouette melding into the blinding light of the setting sun before the door slammed shut again, nothing but a billow of dust in the air as proof she’d ever ventured inside.
Lucas moved in front of Cullen, glancing from the doorway back to him. “That was…unexpected.”
“She was serious. Gilmore actually hired her and sent her out this way. What the Hell was the man thinkin’?”
“Maybe that we’d stop askin’ for something he obviously can’t give us? Hell if I know for sure, but we’ll never get this spur built if we can’t stop men from dyin’ from a simple cut, or a case of dysentery. One outbreak of cholera, and we’ll lose over half of the workers here.”
“You say that like I don’t already know. I’m just not sure what you want me to do. I’ve begged, repeatedly, and Hollis Chambers seems to be the company’s solution.”
Lucas turned, once again leaning against the wall. “She seemed…”
“Antagonistic?”
“Intelligent. Hell, at least she went to medical school, which is a far sight better than any other option we’ve come across. Pretty, too.”
“I agree, but… You were right. We can’t force anyone to accept her, even if she turned out to be a brilliant physician. And we both know if she stays—puts herself in a vulnerable situation—she’s liable to get hurt.”
“You mean raped.”
Cullen growled at the thought, cursing when Lucas arched a brow. “What?”
“Haven’t heard you growl over the thought of someone getting hurt since…well, since me.” He straightened, staring at the closed door as his expression softened.
“Whoa, hold on. It doesn’t mean what you’re thinkin’. My other half simply doesn’t like the idea of any woman getting hurt.”
“Nor does mine, but that was more than idle concern.”
“It’s called being a decent human being. I’d like to think at least half of me fits that description. And you’d be the first to rip the throat out of any man who took advantage of a woman that way.”
“Damn straight, but—”
“No buts. Besides, if she meant more to us, don’t you think we both would have picked up on it? I knew you were my mate the moment I shook your hand, caught your scent.”
“As did I, but need I point out we didn’t touch her? Hell, I don’t even recall getting a whiff of her. Too much dust in the air, and with her wearin’ that coat—the oilskin must have masked her natural scent. Not to mention the fact I’m pretty much useless when you’re this close. All I can focus on is your scent. Everything else just gets lost.”
Cullen smiled at the thought. Though he didn’t enjoy having to resist that part of him, knowing Lucas was equally affected—invested—made it slightly more bearable.
He grinned at the man. “Lucas…she’s just a passin’ stranger. Albeit an attractive one, even if she does her best to hide it. Though I suppose dressin’ like a man helps with the image.” He chuckled. “Can’t say I’m not more than a bit curious to know if she really can handle those pistols on her hips.”
“I know what I said, what’s likely to be the outcome, but maybe we should give her a chance?”
“Not that I wouldn’t love to do that, it’s just not sensible. Between you spendin’ every wakin’ hour trying to police the town, keep these men alive, and me spendin’ half my day scoutin’ out the rest of the spur… We don’t have time to babysit a doctor who might end up getting her fool head shot off because she can’t seem to curb her tongue. It’s safer for everyone if she just hops on the next train back to Boston.”
Lucas sighed, giving Cullen a curt nod before heading for the door. He paused at the threshold, glancing back at his mate. “I’ll go send out a few telegrams. See if I can round up another half a dozen men.”
“We’ll find a way to get this damn line finished. Promise. Then, maybe we should head north. My family still owns a few purchases in Alaska. It’s new territory. Might be just what we need. Wouldn’t have to hide what we are up there.”
“Guess it’s worth considerin’, assumin’ we’re both still alive when this is over.”
Cullen frowned as Lucas opened the door then left, the hollow thud of it closing resonating through Cullen’s chest. One break. That’s all they needed, and they could push the damn line through. Too bad there wasn’t one in sight.
He glanced at the crumpled paper. The girl was right about something, he just wasn’t sure if it was him who had been standing out in the sun too long. Who had lost touch with the cold reality of how bad the situation truly was. If he’d just sent his only chance at salvation on a one-way trip out of town.
CHAPTER TWO
“Of all the pig-headed, ignorant…”
Hollis Chambers muttered to herself as she strode across the dusty street, her displeasure mirrored in the gait. She should have known better than to trust Gilmore—believe the man when he’d assured her she’d be more than welcomed. While he hadn’t been exaggerating about the camp’s desperate need for a physician, he’d greatly overestimated her appeal. At least at the other camps she’d resided in, she’d been given a chance to pass or fail, even if that test seemed to be never-ending. Here… She hadn’t gotten past the two men in charge.
She cursed, wishing she’d acted on her instincts and smacked the smug grins off both of their faces. Damn, those two boys were infuriating. Gilmore had shown her the telegrams Cullen had sen
t the man—how he’d practically begged for his boss to send someone, anyone—yet, Cullen had brushed her off without even bothering to see if she was worth taking a chance on. If twisting the arms of the men in the camp to accept her might be worth his while.
She shoved at the swinging doors to the saloon, heading straight for the bar. More than a few gazes followed her progress, their attention no doubt centered on the pistols on her hips. She hadn’t been lying to Cullen. She knew how to shoot, how to fight—thanks to her father’s unusual occupation. Not that she enjoyed killing people. But she’d discovered long ago that, regardless of her desire, she couldn’t save every soul.
Hollis snorted. She’d read Cullen and Lucas’ disbelief. Had sensed that they thought she’d merely been posturing. Exaggerating her abilities. Of course, being underestimated was one of her greatest attributes. Some might have seen her gender as limiting, but she saw it as a way of gaining the upper hand. Men expected her to be weak. Fragile. And she had no qualms about proving otherwise. Knowing she could treat most of the wounds she inflicted didn’t hurt, either. Though even she realized that her medical skill could only go so far. That sometimes defending herself meant someone else would suffer.
The barkeep stopped in front of her, giving her a hard glare. “Can I help you?”
She placed a few coins on the bar. “Whiskey.”
The man gave her the once over then poured her a glass. She tipped her hat, taking a seat at one of the tables closer to the wall. A spot where she could watch the other patrons interact without being too close. She’d never been fond of saloons or large gatherings, but under the circumstances, it seemed a better option than waiting for the next train somewhere else—like the sheriff’s office.
Hollis took a sip of the alcohol, allowing the liquid to burn away some of her tension. She didn’t like being dismissed, especially by Cullen and his friend, Lucas. For some reason, their rejection had stung more than usual. Whether it’d been the knowing looks they’d given each other or the seeming ease with which they’d discounted her, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she’d worked hard to appear unaffected as she’d spun on her heel and left.
Disappointment soured her stomach as more workers entered the saloon, the noise level rising with each new wave of men. She watched the steady flow of people for over an hour before venturing to the train platform. But the departure time came and went with nothing more than a shrug by the man at the station. He offhandedly mentioned the times for the following day then left.
Anger heated her skin as she returned to the tavern and ordered another drink and a bowl of stew, finally switching to something less potent as the sun sank below the horizon, dusk settling around the camp. Just her damn luck she’d get stuck at the end of a dead-end spur, with no other recourse but to wait it out.
She shoved her two bags beneath the small table, resting her feet on the edge while keeping her hat low over her face. She glanced at the barkeep, wondering if the man would let her stay the night, when the doors to the tavern crashed open. Three men stormed through the entrance, carrying a fourth, blood staining the man’s shirt. They headed toward a table on the far side of the saloon, shouting out for someone named Henry.
The man in question rose from the table, knocking over his chair. It clattered onto the wood floor, cutting through the din of conversation. Henry’s mouth gaped open as the other men cleared off the surface with a sweep of their arms, shattering glasses onto the hard planks below then draping their friend over the table, a muted groan lighting the air.
One of the men grabbed Henry’s shirt, yanking him closer. “One of Buford’s men clipped my brother in the shoulder. Fix him.”
Henry pulled free, then crossed his arms over his chest. “The man’s been shot. Bleedin’ him ain’t gonna fix nothing. The only place he’s going is to the undertaker’s.”
“I know he’s been shot. Why the Hell do you think we dragged him in here? You’re always runnin’ your mouth off about how skilled you are. How you’re as good as any doctor the company ever sent out here. That means it’s your job to fix him before I decide you’re not worth keeping around.”
Henry shoved at the man when he tried to grab him, tripping them both back a few steps when the swinging doors opened again, Lucas and Cullen barreling through. Lucas pushed his way through the crowd, grabbing the injured man’s brother and pulling him off Henry. Cullen moved around to the opposite side, stepping between the others and Henry, motioning the surrounding men to stand down.
Lucas palmed his weapon. “Easy, boys. Everyone just take a step back.” He shuffled closer to the brother. “Frank, you need to calm down before you get yourself shot.”
Frank pointed at Henry. “I’ll calm down just as soon that bastard takes care of Jack.”
Henry lunged at Frank, held back by Cullen’s arm. “No one can save your brother, now, you fool. He’s already dead.”
Cullen pushed the man back. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Just do everyone a favor and shut the Hell up.” He cursed, shoving Henry, again, when he tried to move past him. “I mean it, Henry. There are more than a few men in here who would love to see you covered in your own damn leeches, so back away.”
Henry sneered but stopped pushing against Cullen’s hold, finally taking a couple of steps backwards. He mumbled something under his breath, looking as if he was considering making a run for the door.
Cullen gave the man a curt nod, glancing down at Jack splayed across the table. Though Hollis was too far away to see the full extent of Jack’s injuries, she knew by the tight press of Cullen’s mouth and the concerned look he gave Lucas that Cullen wasn’t expecting the man to live.
Tension clenched Hollis’ stomach, but she forced herself to remain in her seat. Allow the events to unfold without getting involved. It didn’t matter that her skin crawled at the thought of sitting idly by as the man slowly bled to death. Of ignoring the incessant voice in her head begging her to uphold her oath. Both Cullen and Lucas had made their feelings regarding her presence crystal clear, and she knew she’d never gain anyone’s respect unless they made the first move. An uneasy calm settled over her as she watched the two men exchange another look before Cullen sighed.
He raked his hand through his hair, nodding at Frank. “I hate to admit it, but your brother’s lost a lot of blood. Even if Henry patches him up, he might not make it.”
Frank sneered at Henry still standing behind Cullen. “He ain’t dead, yet.”
Cullen gave Frank a grim smile. “I realize that but…we all know this is way beyond Henry’s ability to treat.” He glared back at Henry. “In fact, everything is beyond his ability to treat.”
Henry huffed. “I don’t see you doing any better? If you’re so disappointed with my skill, then why haven’t you found us another doctor? Men around here are droppin’ like flies, yet you keep telling us the same excuses. Maybe you’re the one who needs to ‘fix this’.”
Cullen twisted toward the man, his sheer size making Henry take another hurried step back. Having interacted with Cullen and Lucas on their own, Hollis hadn’t really noticed how much larger the two men were, standing several inches taller than any of the other men in the bar. But it wasn’t just their height—their shoulders were broader, their bodies thicker. And she guessed, by the way their shirts bunched against their torsos, that well-formed muscles flexed beneath the fabric.
Heat swirled through her core, settling uncomfortably in her groin. She gave herself a mental shake. Despite the fact the men were ruggedly handsome—both sporting square jaw lines with high cheekbones and symmetrical features—their attitudes earlier had told her all she needed to know. And she’d be damned if she allowed herself to feel anything for either of them other than the anger still churning in her gut.
Cullen stared at Henry, his lips quirking slightly when the other man took another step back. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?” He turned back to Frank. “I’ve asked. Hell, I’ve fucking begged, and all they
’ve sent me was a wo—”
His voice cut off sharply as Lucas swatted him in the back, pointing toward Hollis when Cullen glared at the sheriff over his shoulder. Cullen frowned, following the man’s motion. His gaze clashed with hers, disbelief widening his eyes. He held up his hand, silently telling the other men to wait before picking his way over to her table.
He stopped a foot away, giving her body a long, slow sweep, finally making eye contact, again. He nodded at her. “I thought you were headin’ back?”
She shrugged. “Train never showed.”
“I see…” He seemed to force himself to swallow before waving at Jack’s body spread out on the table. “Seeing as you’re still here…we could use your assistance.”
“What?” Frank pushed his way across the room, barely held back by Cullen’s arm across his chest once he’d reached them. “We need a doctor, James, not some tavern girl who makes a living spreadin’ her legs.”
Cullen fisted the man’s shirt, tossing him backwards. “Goddamn it, Frank. Shut up before you guarantee your brother dies by sunrise.” He released a harsh breath, looking at her, again. “Miss Chambers…” He cleared his throat at her arched brow. “Dr. Chambers—”
“Doctor?” Frank tried to push past Cullen, only to end up on his ass. “Women ain’t no doctors.”
Cullen growled this time, the sound far more animalistic than she thought possible. Something flashed in his eyes, but the hint of red she thought she’d glimpsed was gone before she could be certain it had ever been there.
“One more word and I’ll have Lucas drag you out of here. See that you spend the next few days in jail.” He turned to her. “Doctor, as you can see, we’re in need of your… expertise.”
Hollis thumbed the empty glass beside her hand. “I’d love to help out, Mr. James, but…as I recall, you and Sheriff Quinn didn’t feel my services were welcome here.”
Cullen’s jaw clenched, jumping the muscle in his temple. “Obviously, that was a bit of a rash decision.”
