Hearts Entwined

by Karen Witemeyer

  Maggie winced.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Did you tell Dr. Radcliffe that?”

  “Yep, he seemed interested in my opinion.” From her expression he could tell that bothered her. “Is that wrong? Should I keep my ideas to myself?”

  “No, no, that’s not it. I just . . . well, that’s how Dr. Radcliffe treats me. Asking me if I know what’s wrong—like he’s constantly testing me and training me. Maybe you’ll end up being a doctor the same time I am.”

  Connor laughed. “Nope, I don’t see it. I figure to get back to cattle and horses as soon as I can. But he’s paying me well enough that I can live at the boardinghouse without worry. So I’m content to work there for as long as the doctor needs me.”

  Connor reached over and took her hand. “There’s a little park between here and the parson’s house. We walked around it this morning. How about we go there now?”

  “The parson will notice if I’m very late.”

  “It’s a shortcut, so if we walk slowly and talk a bit, we’ll be there at the same time as always. You said I need to figure out if I can live in a city. Well, after one day, I think I can. I miss my horse, though, and I miss the quiet of the country.”

  “We can rent horses and ride out into the hills. Maybe on Sunday afternoons.”

  A smile broke on Connor’s face. He felt his spirits rise. “That would be a fine thing, Maggie. Yes, let’s do that.”

  He tightened his grip on her hand as they strolled toward the quiet little park. Connor even found a moment to stop and give Maggie a kiss. “Yes, I think I’m going to like living in the city, so long as you’re here with me.”

  “I like the city a lot more myself now that you’re here.” They shared a smile, then headed on, hand in hand, until the parson’s house came into view. At that point, he loosened his grip on her hand and his fingers slid gently away from hers. His smile was full of longing as they walked a proper distance apart to the front door.

  Maggie spent an hour each morning in a classroom and the rest of the morning tending patients in the hospital with the other nursing students. In the afternoon she went to work with Dr. Radcliffe and now Connor.

  For his first week in Denver, Maggie was pleased by how much Dr. Radcliffe liked Connor and how much Connor enjoyed the work. She talked with Connor on their walks home, and he was just as surprised at how well the work suited him. He talked more about his life in Texas and how much he’d worked alongside Luke’s friend, Dr. Dare Riker.

  Once she admitted how much fun it was to talk with Connor about doctoring and their shared interest, Maggie felt ready to say the word if Connor proposed again: Yes.

  But then things changed. By near the end of the second week, the whole situation was getting on her nerves. It reached a peak on Thursday, after her morning work at the hospital, when she came into Dr. Radcliffe’s examination room to find Connor stitching up a man’s arm. First she noticed Connor’s steady hand, the blood, the man’s gritted teeth, then Connor’s quiet, calming voice.

  Maggie saw that Dr. Radcliffe was tending another patient.

  He’d never left her to stitch up a wound. Oh, she’d taken many stitches while working here, but only under the doctor’s watchful eye.

  That afternoon, she helped in every way she could. Followed the doctor’s orders to the letter. Then a second person came in needing stitches, and Dr. Radcliffe let her do it, but while watching her every stitch. He never once criticized her—and told her she did a great job—but he didn’t walk away, either, even when a new patient came in. He told Connor to start the exam while he and Maggie finished. Connor did the whole exam himself and sent the woman on her way without even consulting Dr. Radcliffe.

  And then it was time to go home.

  Connor took her hand and was walking along, at ease and cheerful.

  They’d barely made it out of earshot from Dr. Radcliffe when Maggie said, “When did he start letting you sew up a patient?”

  Connor frowned at the sharp tone of her voice. She regretted not asking a bit more pleasantly.

  “I’ve been doing it mostly right from the start. I helped Dare back in Broken Wheel, and that included setting stitches many times. I told Doc I could do it. He watched me once, and since then I’ve done most of the suturing that comes in. He lets me put a cast on broken bones, too. But that’s only after working with him a few times. He’s known for doing a fine job with difficult breaks, so a lot of folks come to him. But most are simple fractures that just need a plaster cast. I do those.”

  “Without supervision?”

  With a brief shrug, he said, “If I have any questions, I ask. And he works with me most of the time. It’s not often there are two patients in need.”

  “What else are you doing?” She fought back her rising anger and made her question sound like simple curiosity. Fake, simple curiosity.

  Connor’s face lit up. “He took me with him to deliver a baby and ended up letting me do most of it. That was a wonderful experience. Dare never let me in on that back in Texas. It was like watching a miracle happen right in front of my eyes.” Connor’s enthusiasm grew. “And I’ve been helping him with fevers, and he’s got a man with pleurisy who’s been in four times now. Doc calls him my patient. I helped tend a man with dropsy. There are three men in a special room here with consumption, and the doctor is very careful how we treat them. I wear a face mask over my mouth and nose, and we wash our hands thoroughly. Dr. Radcliffe has told me what to look for during checkups and so now I do the consumption patients, too. He was talking about—”

  Maggie made a sound that reminded her a bit of that angry mama buffalo. Connor quit talking and stared at her. He stopped dead in his tracks, his brow lined with furrows.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  How could he not know? Then Maggie caught herself. How could he know? That was more fair. He was new here and certainly couldn’t read what was inside Maggie’s head. So she needed to tell him.

  “Dr. Radcliffe has never let me do any of that!” Maggie whirled away and stomped toward the park they always passed through together. “I know about the room for consumption patients, but he says it’s too dangerous and won’t let me in.”

  “Well, it is dangerous, but if you’re careful, I think—”

  “I’ve only set stitches,” she said, cutting him off, “under his close supervision, though he’s never found fault with how I do it, not since the first few times, months ago. I’ve never put a cast on a broken bone. And I have never, ever been allowed to go along with him to deliver a baby.”

  Looking confused, Connor hurried to keep up with her. “I’ve worked alongside you, Maggie. You’re good at all the things I’ve seen you do. Are you sure it’s not just a coincidence? He might feel more protective of you with the consumption patients. And maybe . . . I think the first time he let me set stitches, someone else came in bleeding. He was so busy with that, he left me on my own. He saw I’d done a good job, so he relaxed faster than he might otherwise have done. As for the baby, maybe I was just here and it was at a time when we could both be gone. I know of at least two other times when we had patients waiting in his office and he left me in charge while he went out for a house call.”

  “He left you in charge?” Maggie started walking faster. She wanted to get away from all this.

  Connor looked worried now, and well he should. “He warned me not to handle anything I wasn’t familiar with. But I was lucky enough no one like that came in.”

  “Why is he doing this?” Maggie flung her arms wide and managed to whack Connor in the belly. “Does he see a man as a natural doctor and a woman as someone trying to do a job she’s not suited for?”

  “I’ve never heard him say such a thing. He often compliments your work.”

  “Even if he doesn’t outwardly talk like that, his actions tell a different story.”

  Connor caught her arm and gently but firmly pulled her to a halt. He looked deep into her eyes. She cou
ld see his concern. Knew he didn’t want to hurt her.

  “I’ll quit. First thing tomorrow. I won’t get in your way, Maggie. And I want no part of hurting you. I have never thought of doctoring for a living. I’ve just been following orders same as I would at a livery stable, but it never occurred to me Doc might be putting too much of the job on my shoulders, and by doing that, treating you in a way that’s insulting. I’ll tell him—”

  “No. It’s nothing you’re doing, Connor.”

  “It must be, at least in part. I never should have told him I’d worked with Dare. I was right there piping up when he had a second patient come in and I was sewing and he was watching. I said, ‘I’ve set stitches before. I’ll do it.’ I must have sounded boastful so he thought I was more than I was.”

  “You’re not boastful.” Now Maggie had hurt him. None of this was his fault.

  “I’ll quit tomorrow.” Connor towed her to the side of the path. Maggie saw a little iron bench and Connor pulled her to sit beside him, but there was little pulling because she wanted to talk this over.

  “I’ll get another job. The stockyard is always hiring. And I know how to send a telegram. I learned Morse code in Broken Wheel.”

  “Whatever happened to make you learn—”

  Connor snapped his fingers and looked excited again. “I’ve heard they have telephones in Denver. Isn’t that a wonder? I’d love to see if the telephone company needs help. It’s so new that everyone working there must be training while they work.”

  It was a wonder how many things he already knew and how eager he seemed to learn more.

  “Vince, the lawyer in Broken Wheel, was a friend of Luke. I learned to research law books to find things for him. Maybe a law office in town needs a helping hand. I was a hand as a fry cook, too. Dare’s wife owned the diner and was always needing help. She was no hand at cooking so I stepped in there plenty of times.”

  “Why would a woman who couldn’t cook run a diner?” That distracted Maggie from her already waning temper. “Was Dare a terrible doctor? Is that why you helped him? Was Vince an illiterate shyster? Did you have to read the law books out loud to him? Was the telegraph officer a drunk who slept until noon? Could your uncle Luke manage a ranch?”

  “They did all right.”

  Maggie felt her eyes narrow. “They’ll probably let you argue cases in front of a judge within two weeks. By the end of the month you’ll be a judge.”

  Connor watched her. She’d probably scared him into thinking every word was a sinful boast. And that was wrong of her, but she couldn’t pretend this wasn’t a hurtful situation.

  She didn’t want to be a yelling woman. But right now she wasn’t sure what she could say without yelling.

  “I’ll say this one more time, Connor: This is not about you. It’s about Dr. Radcliffe, and he’s the one I need to talk to. Don’t you even dare think of quitting. That makes me feel like a weakling who can’t work with someone who is better than her, and it would be humiliating for me if Dr. Radcliffe believed that.” Her body fought for control, until she lurched to her feet and headed for the parson’s house, walking as fast as she could.

  Connor was beside her in a flash. “Maggie, I want to solve this before you go home. We shouldn’t end the evening with this unhappiness between us.”

  Walking faster, looking straight ahead, Maggie said the only thing she could think of that was the truth . . . that she felt she could say. “We should end this evening as quickly as we can and without saying another word to each other.”

  Then she turned to look him right in the eye without slowing down even a speck. “If we don’t stop discussing this now, I might say things that would end us. And that’s a lot worse than ending the evening.”

  She stormed up the parson’s steps and went inside, careful not to slam the door. She didn’t look back. She didn’t want to see him standing there looking sad. Even more, she didn’t want to see him walking away, possibly deciding he wanted no relationship with a woman who couldn’t control her temper.

  Chapter

  7

  Connor was chased from sleep by a charging buffalo.

  The nightmare sprang him upright in his bed. On his feet before he was fully awake, he raked his fingers through his hair, saying to himself, “I shouldn’t have let her go last night. I should have forced her to stay and talk, to clear things up.”

  After wolfing down breakfast, Connor ran all the way to the parson’s house—long before he usually arrived. Charging up the front steps, he banged on the door with his fist. Seconds later, the parson whipped the door open, clearly worried.

  It flickered through Connor’s head that a parson might get as many frantic calls for help as a doctor. He asked to see Maggie, telling the parson it was really important.

  “Sorry, but she’s not here,” the parson said. “Left a while ago. She had to check in for class ahead of time.”

  It was too late to catch her. Even if he sprinted the distance to the school, he knew she’d get there and be starting class before he could see her. Fighting the need to barge into her classroom, Connor stormed on to the doctor’s office, his thoughts all twisted up.

  He should quit.

  He had to wait to see Maggie, so he couldn’t quit today.

  But what about Doc Radcliffe? Suddenly, Connor was tempted to punch him right in the mouth.

  What about another job? The stockyard, the livery, blacksmith maybe . . . No, he couldn’t go hunting for work until he’d talked to Maggie, who’d be coming to the doctor’s office later.

  Whatever else he did, it was high time to have a heart-to-heart talk with Dr. Radcliffe. Maggie had been hurt by the doctor’s behavior, and Connor wanted some answers.

  Stepping inside the doctor’s office, he saw three patients waiting. One, Mr. Evans, his dropsy worse than ever. Another, a young man cradling his arm against his chest. The third an elderly woman, hacking into her handkerchief.

  “Dr. Kincaid, is that you?” Dr. Radcliffe must’ve heard the door open. He sounded desperate.

  Dr. Kincaid?

  “I’ll be right with you folks.” Connor then rushed through the door that led to an examination room with two narrow cots and shelves full of medical equipment, bottles of medicine, and books. “It’s me,” he said to Dr. Radcliffe.

  The doc was hovering over a little boy wrapped tight in a blanket to keep him from moving while his weeping mother held the child’s head. Through her tears, she urged her son to calm down. The father was present, too, using his body to anchor the child. Doc was busy stitching up the boy’s chin.

  It didn’t look serious, medically speaking, only painful for the child, who screamed and fought as the adults tried to help him.

  “See to the man holding his arm first. I suspect a break in the forearm. Hope to heaven it doesn’t need to be set.”

  Connor nodded and got to work. No time for a hard talk with the doctor now.

  The morning flew by. The doctor finished the stitches and brought in the coughing woman. Connor finished the cast and brought in Mr. Evans. His swollen ankles worried Connor. It was the kind of thing that often warned of a coming heart seizure.

  “The doctor . . .” Connor faltered. Dr. Radcliffe had named Connor as a doctor, and maybe it was so this man would accept treatment from someone besides the real doctor. “I mean, I have a tea that’s just come in. We hope it will have a good effect. You’ve stopped adding salt to your food?”

  “Yep, Doc. I’ve done all you’ve told me.” Something in Mr. Evans’s tone made Connor doubt that was the whole truth.

  Connor patted him on the arm. “Good. Keep that up and I’ll send you a packet of this tea. Brew yourself a cup morning and night. And remember to take long walks. You sit in that chair at the bank for too many hours without moving.”

  “I’m busy, I don’t have time for that.”

  “I can only advise you, Mr. Evans, but you find time to come in here to see the doctor, and on a day like today when you e
nd up sitting for long stretches waiting your turn. I think a long walk every day would hardly take much longer.”

  He nodded reluctantly. Connor had little hope the man would change, but he might drink the tea at least. Connor saw the nettles in the tea and remembered Maggie collecting herbs when he found her forced up a tree by that buffalo. Which reminded Connor of his nightmare, which reminded him that Maggie had walked away from him last night, both furious and hurt.

  And that reminded him of the talk he needed to have with Radcliffe. Good grief, he hadn’t even had time to say anything to the doctor outside of rapidly exchanged words about the patients. He saw the doctor handing a bottle of cough syrup to the elderly woman. Mr. Evans left right behind her, and Connor thought his chance had come.

  The office door slammed open. “Come quick, Doc! A horse kicked the blacksmith in the head. He’s out cold, and he’s bleedin’ like a stuck hog.”

  “I’ve got to go.” Doc looked sharply at Connor. “I’ll bring the blacksmith back here as quick as I can. But there are two new patients in the waiting room. You stay and take care of what you’re able to. If you can’t handle it, just keep them comfortable. I’ll be back soon.” The doctor slapped his forehead. “I haven’t even looked in on the patients in the hospital yet this morning. I’ll send a note to the school asking them to let Maggie come to work. It’s a bit early, is all. We need another set of hands.”

  The doctor scribbled a note and gave it to a boy out on the street, along with a coin and an order to run to the school. Then Dr. Radcliffe grabbed his doctor’s bag and was gone, hurrying after the anxious man who’d come in shouting about the injured blacksmith.

  Connor barely had time to take a breath as he tended the two new patients. Luckily he could handle them. Just as he was finishing up, two men came in carrying a third man, who was fighting them and clawing at his throat.

  “Help him, Doc.” The older of the two carrying the man kept moving toward a table. “My son got tossed off a bronco and hit a fence. He’s fightin’ for air. I think he busted somethin’ in his throat.”