Talia: The Magical Bride (The Brides of Paradise Ranch - Sweet Version Book 10)

by Merry Farmer

  Until, just as he was about to head down the stairs and off to work, he said, “And nothing I can say will convince you to stay home, where it’s safe?” as if they had been discussing the matter constantly since their argument the night before.

  Talia clasped her hands in front of her and shook her head. “No, Trey. I have to do what I think is right.”

  “Even if you might get sick too?”

  A flash of worry, far deeper than she thought she deserved, creased his brow. Yes, she was his wife, but they’d only known each other a matter of days. Surely he couldn’t be that touchingly concerned for her. But he was anxious about something.

  “I’ve been sick before.” She took a step toward him. “I’ve always recovered.”

  “But people don’t always recover,” Trey argued.

  Understanding clicked in Talia’s mind. She took another step toward him. “Did someone you love die in an epidemic?”

  Trey’s face flushed, and he turned away, starting down the stairs. “I have to work. We’ll talk about this later.” His words were hard and clipped and a dead-giveaway that someone close to him had indeed died.

  She contemplated that thought as she finished up her chores in the apartment, then headed out into town. Had Trey had a sweetheart who was taken by influenza? Was it another family member? Another disease? Did it have anything to do with the scar that ran across his face, making him look tougher than she could now see he was? No, the kind of scars that diseases left weren’t apparent on someone’s face. Trey’s facial scar must have come from his duties as a sheriff, but she could now see he had a deeper scar than that.

  Her heart ached for him all the way across town and up to Dr. Abernathy’s front door. As she stepped up onto the porch, she shook the ache of caring for the man she hoped to grow to love aside in favor of the work that needed to be done. She knocked on the door, then stepped back to wait, hands folded.

  A few seconds later, Mrs. Abernathy came to the door. The moment she saw Talia, her face pinched. “You again.”

  Talia took a breath to steel her courage. “I’ve come to help Dr. Abernathy with the influenza patients.”

  Mrs. Abernathy crossed her arms and stared down her nose at Talia. “If you knew anything about anything, girl, you would know that my husband’s office is around the corner. This is the entrance to our home.”

  Talia frowned, uncertain why she was emphasizing certain words. “I see. Is he in his office now?”

  “It’s office hours, isn’t it?” Mrs. Abernathy curled her lip as though smelling something sour.

  “I didn’t know.” Talia kept her back straight and her manner as respectful as she could, even though her inclination was to call Mrs. Abernathy out on how rude she was being. “I’ll just go around to his office, then.”

  She took a step back, then turned, searching for any indication of which side of the house the office was on. A narrow path to her right showed her the way. She started for the porch stairs.

  “I know about you, you know.” Mrs. Abernathy stopped her before Talia was halfway down the steps.

  Talia pivoted to face the woman again. “Excuse me?”

  Mrs. Abernathy took a step out onto the porch, arms still crossed. “Vivian Bonneville told me what you did to her baby yesterday.”

  Talia blinked. Cold dread began to pool in her stomach, the feeling all too familiar. “I did meet Mrs. Bonneville and her baby yesterday,” she admitted with a nod. “The baby was jaundiced. I made recommendations of what Mrs. Bonneville could do to improve his health.”

  “Is that what you did?” Mrs. Abernathy’s mouth twitched in a smirk.

  “It is.” Talia kept her expression neutral.

  Mrs. Abernathy tapped her fingers on her arm. “Vivian sent a few telegrams, you know. Back East. To Nashville. She thinks there’s something fishy about you and your claims of being a nurse and a good Christian.”

  “I am a Christian and nurse.” Talia held her ground, but the ice in her stomach grew. If Vivian was as determined as her friends had always written she was, she would discover plenty of things by digging around for information. They wouldn’t be the things she expected to find, but Talia had a bad feeling they would do as much or more damage.

  “We’ll see,” Mrs. Abernathy said.

  “Yes, you will. Now if you will excuse me, there is an epidemic in this town, and my skills are needed.” She nodded, then turned sharply and headed the rest of the way down the stairs.

  By the time she rounded the corner of the porch, Mrs. Abernathy had gone back inside and shut the front door with a bang. Talia tried not to let it bother her. She took a few deep breaths to clear her head as she made her way to Dr. Abernathy’s office door.

  A small sign on the door indicated the office was open, so Talia let herself in without knocking. She was instantly met by the sight, sounds, and smells of three rugged men slumped in chairs throughout the waiting room. All three had the feverish pallor of men suffering from influenza.

  “Oh dear,” she whispered, walking to the first man and pressing her hand to his forehead. “You should be in bed.”

  The man looked up at her with a weak, lop-sided grin, then burst into a coughing fit. “Shoot,” he said between gasping breaths. “I done feel too sick to make a joke about your offer.”

  It took Talia a moment to realize how he might have interpreted her words to mean he should be in bed with her. It was a joke she’d heard a thousand times before, and learned to ignore. She squeezed the man’s shoulder, then walked past him to the door at the other end of the room.

  Before she could reach it to knock, the door swung open. Dr. Abernathy appeared in the doorway, an indulgent smile already in place. “Well, well. If it isn’t my sweet little nurse, Mrs. Knighton.”

  Talia opened her mouth to ask how he knew she was there, but saw Mrs. Abernathy standing in the room behind him. An open door at the far end of that room showed that there was a connection between the office and the house. For a split second, Talia was indignant that Mrs. Abernathy hadn’t just shown her through to the office from the house. She shook her head to dispel that time-wasting thought.

  “I said I’d come to help you treat people suffering from the influenza epidemic, and here I am,” she said, focused solely on Dr. Abernathy and ignoring his wife’s peevish looks. “Just in time too, it would seem.” She indicated the men in the waiting room.

  Dr. Abernathy spared them a fleeting look. “Come into my office,” he said, turning his back on her and stepping into the smaller room.

  Talia pressed her lips together, sent a final look around the waiting room to the sick men, then followed Dr. Abernathy. He shut the door behind her once they were in what appeared to be an examination room. It held a desk, an examination table, and several cabinets. One had a glass front, through which Talia could see various medical supplies. The office was impressive for the frontier. Talia assumed Howard Haskell had something to do with that.

  “So you want to help me out and play nurse,” Dr. Abernathy said, raking her up and down with the look that had made her so uncomfortable the day before. “Well, I can’t say I object to having such a pretty assistant.”

  The instinct to argue that she was much more than pretty gripped Talia, but she wasn’t the first one to speak.

  “You don’t need an assistant, Leonard,” Mrs. Abernathy snapped. “You’ve done just fine on your own all these years.”

  Dr. Abernathy sent her a dismissive frown. “I have done well on my own, but that’s because I’ve never had an offer of help.” He turned back to Talia. “And Mrs. Knighton offered her services so nicely.”

  Prickles broke out down Talia’s back at the implication in Dr. Abernathy’s voice. She wanted to argue that she hadn’t made that kind of offer, but again, Mrs. Abernathy beat her to it.

  “I’m not so sure you need her kind of assisting,” she said, jaw tight.

  More than anything, Talia wanted to set both Dr. and Mrs. Abernathy straight abou
t her reasons for being there, but the sensible part of her knew making those arguments would be futile.

  “There are three sick men in your waiting room,” she said instead. “They are all exhibiting signs of influenza. They need to be treated with willow bark or meadowsweet tea and sent to bed.”

  Dr. Abernathy snorted. “Those men are just cowhands from some of the outlying ranches. Mrs. Kline has an appointment for her bunions in ten minutes.”

  Talia blinked at him. “Those men are sick now. Mrs. Kline isn’t even here yet. Can’t you treat them while you wait for her?”

  “It wouldn’t be right to make a fine woman like Mrs. Kline wait when she made an appointment and those men did not.”

  Mrs. Abernathy humphed and grinned as though her husband—or more importantly she—had gained a victory over her.

  Talia clasped her hands in front of her and prayed for patience. “Would you mind if I treated those men, then?”

  “You?” Mrs. Abernathy sniffed.

  Dr. Abernathy turned to her as if she were a fly that had buzzed in his ear. That wiped the smug grin off of her face.

  “I suppose it couldn’t hurt if you gave those men some tea and sent them on their way,” Dr. Abernathy sighed.

  He crossed to one of the cabinets and opened it, revealing mostly empty shelves with a few rows of bottles, packets, and tinctures. Talia thought the cabinet was a good representation of the man himself—impressive looking, but without much substance inside.

  “Here.” He took a bottle of white powder from the cabinet and walked it over to her. “Give them this.” As he handed her the bottle, their hands brushed. He maintained the contact far longer than was appropriate. “My, what soft hands you have. I’m sure those men will appreciate being nursed by such a tender touch.”

  Talia felt the heat flood her face and neck. It frustrated her that Dr. Abernathy would probably interpret it as pleasure at his sly comment and not the anger that it was. She took the powdered willow bark from him without a word and marched back into the waiting room. Dr. Abernathy’s low, sickening chuckle followed her.

  The waiting room contained a small stove—probably used more for heat in the winter than brewing teas. There was a kettle on the stove, though, and a few tin mugs on a small shelf behind it. Dr. Abernathy had shut the door to his examination room behind her, though, and offered no help in finding water and fuel for the fire. In the end, one of the sick cowhands helped, even though she protested the whole time that he should sit down and preserve his strength.

  The fire was going by the time Mrs. Kline arrived for her bunion appointment. As it turned out, Mrs. Kline was the plump woman, Beata.

  “You again?” She sniffed at the sight of Talia, the same way Mrs. Abernathy had. “You aren’t following me, are you?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m here assisting Dr. Abernathy with these sick patients.” And even though it wasn’t particularly kind of her, she had to add, “These men are suffering from influenza.”

  “Oh!” Mrs. Kline’s flabby face went bright pink, and she inched her way anxiously to the examination room door. “Oh dear, oh dear!”

  She was saved by Dr. Abernathy opening the door. “Beata. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Land sakes, Dr. Abernathy, there are sick men in here?” Mrs. Kline bolted through the door.

  “Yes, I know. It’s a nuisance,” Dr. Abernathy said as he shut the door.

  Talia frowned, puffing out a breath through her nose and shaking her head. She could do nothing but focus on her work, though.

  The fire took its time getting hot enough to boil water, but before Mrs. Kline was finished with her appointment, Talia had brewed willow bark tea, let it steep for a bit, dosed each of the cowhands, given them a bit of willow bark powder to take with them, and sent them on their way. At the end of the appointment, Dr. Abernathy opened the examination room door, revealing an empty room.

  “Where is Mrs. Kline?” Talia asked.

  “Oh, she left through the house about ten minutes ago,” he answered.

  Talia blinked and shook her head as if she hadn’t heard right. “And you waited in your room when there were sick men out here because?”

  Dr. Abernathy laughed as though she were a child presenting him with a toy she was proud of. “Well, you took care of them quite nicely, it seems.” Before Talia could express her outrage and disbelief, he went on with, “Come along. Grab my bag. We’re going to make house calls on the sick folk.”

  Dr. Abernathy’s idea of house calls became all too apparent at their very first stop. He knocked on the door of the Murphy house, then puffed himself up to his full height when an anxious, red-headed child answered the door.

  “Why aren’t you at school?” he boomed at the exhausted-looking boy.

  “My mam is sick,” the boy answered. He looked to Talia to be about eleven, and to have enough spunk in him to argue Dr. Abernathy into oblivion if he had to. “The kids are sick too,” he went on, a little more anxious. “And Da’s out at the reservation.”

  “Irresponsible.” Dr. Abernathy sniffed.

  Talia couldn’t stand silently for another moment. “Are you taking care of everyone?” She let the question hang.

  The boy understood her tone and replied. “Liam. My name’s Liam. And yes, I am.”

  Talia shot a sideways glance to Dr. Abernathy, then decided to push on, no matter what he thought. “Could you show me everything you’ve done for them?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Liam stepped deeper into the house, gesturing for Talia to follow him. Carrying Dr. Abernathy’s bag, Talia went with him into the house. She barely spared a glance to see if Dr. Abernathy would follow, and was disappointed when he did.

  Liam Murphy had done as good a job as any eleven-year-old boy could in taking care of his family. His mother, Katie Murphy, who Talia knew about from letters, was endlessly apologetic about not being in better shape to greet her guests. Talia brushed aside the objections and went through the routine she’d learned at the Nashville hospital for checking a patient’s state. She listened to Liam’s list of teas he’d been making for his family and the strict rules about not getting out of bed that he’d set. Talia was impressed with his thoroughness. She offered a few packets of willow bark and meadowsweet from Dr. Abernathy’s bag, and promised to check in on the family later.

  “I would have recommended doses of laudanum for the children,” Dr. Abernathy said with a sniff as they left the house and walked on to the next. “But your recommendations were good enough. For a woman,” he added with an indulgent smile and a wink.

  Talia fought the urge to roll her eyes. With each house they visited, the truth was becoming clearer. Dr. Abernathy barely lifted a finger to help any of the sick patients, unless their houses were large, their furnishings expensive, and their demeanors as stuffy as his. That meant that Talia ended up doing the bulk of the work, testing the fevered brows of the less affluent patients, preparing tea, and cleaning up after those who were so sick that they couldn’t do it themselves. All the while, Dr. Abernathy did nothing in those houses but stand back and smile at Talia as if seeing her with her clothes off.

  By the time lunch rolled around, Talia was as exhausted as if she’d worked a full day, with nerves that were raw and bristling from being scrutinized like a saloon girl all morning. She knew that her weariness and irritation showed on her face, as much as she tried to mask it. It didn’t help matters at all that she was wearing that look as they ran into Trey on the approach to the hotel to check on some of Mr. Gunn’s staff.

  “What’s wrong?” Trey asked as soon as he saw her, breaking from the direction he’d been heading to meet up with Talia at the bottom of the hotel’s porch stairs. “You look like you’re not feeling well. Have you caught the cholera…I mean, the influenza?”

  Trey’s slip instantly perked Talia up. Cholera? Was that the disease that had taken the mystery person that Trey had loved?

  “Your little wife here has been acco
mpanying me on house calls,” Dr. Abernathy said before Talia could answer.

  Trey frowned at him, then focused on Talia. “House calls? I thought you said you were just going to help Dr. Abernathy in his office.”

  “I said no such thing,” Talia said, knowing fatigue made her sound harsher than she wanted to. “I said I was going to help him. I never said where or in what capacity.”

  Dr. Abernathy chuckled. “I’ve been enjoying myself, watching her all morning.”

  Trey’s frown grew even darker. A sick feeling filled Talia’s gut. She was too tired to think of a way to tell Trey that she did not approve of Dr. Abernathy’s lasciviousness without stating it outright for the man to hear. Later. They’d discuss it later.

  “I don’t think this is a particularly virulent strain of influenza,” she said instead, hoping it would ease Trey’s troubled mind. “In fact, I expect everyone we’ve seen so far to make a full and complete recovery, if they follow doctor’s orders.”

  “Exactly,” Trey snapped. “Doctor’s orders. Not nurse’s. You shouldn’t be putting yourself in danger by visiting people’s homes when they’re sick.”

  “Trey,” Talia sighed. “We’ve discussed this. I have a calling. I have to answer it. Just like your calling to the law.”

  “It’s nothing like that,” Trey said, but softer than the voice he’d been arguing in before.

  “Yes, it’s exactly like that,” Talia answered, as gently as she could. “You put yourself in harm’s way for duty’s sake too.”

  Trey grumbled, but the sound didn’t form into words. He glanced off down Main Street, frowning as if trying to think of a rebuttal. All he could come up with was, “I don’t like it.”

  Dr. Abernathy laughed. Both Trey and Talia turned to him, bristling with tension.

  “Under normal circumstances, I’d chastise you for not being able to control your wife, Sheriff Knighton,” Dr. Abernathy chuckled. “But in this case, I must admit. I rather enjoy having her assist me.” His eyes and his smile dropped lower than the level of Talia’s face.