The Heirloom Brides Collection

by Tracey V. Bateman

  “She came and stayed all night. You had an infection.” His daughter’s shoulders rose and fell. “I didn’t know what to do but to get Miss Darla.”

  He nodded. “Sunday night? She was out to supper.”

  “Yes.” Her dark eyebrows pinched. “But she said I did the right thing coming to get her.”

  “You did.” There was no need to ask whom she was with at the restaurant. Zach had staked a claim on Darla, inviting her to supper in front of him, and she’d accepted.

  It shouldn’t matter, but it did.

  “Nicolas?” Darla stirred, pulling the quilt off. “You’re awake.” Her smile rivaled the sunlight filtering into the room. She draped the quilt over the rocker and joined Jocelyn at his bedside. “Thank God, you’re all right.”

  “Yes, and thank you. Jocelyn tells me you were here all night.”

  She nodded, reaching up to cover a yawn. “Jocelyn and I worked together. She’s the best helper a nurse could ask for.”

  “I like your new uniform.” He glanced at the soiled apron. “I doubt those fancy New York designers would think to pair gingham with chiffon.”

  She dipped her chin and peered up at him. “Your good humor is back. You’re feeling better.”

  He drew in a deep breath and blew it out, wishing he’d been the one who had taken her out to supper.

  “We need to get some water in you. Maybe some oatmeal. And then I’d like to check your back and the bandages one more time before I leave.”

  He nodded. He’d let her treat him this morning, but she’d obviously given her heart to Zach years ago, and this should be the last time he let her touch him. Even in a professional capacity.

  For both their sakes.

  Chapter Nine

  Lord God, we are most grateful to you for sparing that dear father’s life again.” Hattie’s voice cracked, echoing the sentiment quaking Darla’s insides. “Thank You, Lord, for gifting our Darla with good training.”

  Our Darla.

  “And for bringing her back to save Nicolas.”

  For bringing her back. Apparently, Hattie believed God had a part in bringing her here. Not the diary or the cameo pendant. Not Zachary. Not her need for forgiveness. Not even her desperation to understand and resolve her past behaviors. Had God truly brought her here?

  Her head still bowed, Darla wiped a tear from her cheek before it could spot her uniform.

  It did seem that God had redeemed her misguided notions about Nicolas and his little girls when she’d met them in that one-room cabin in Poverty Gulch. Returning had given her a chance to get to know the Zanzucchi family, and in so doing, to better know herself. She didn’t feel like her past with Zachary had been resolved or those questions answered, but thanks to her time caring for others, she now had a better idea of what she wanted.

  “Amen.” Hattie’s benediction brought Darla back to the prayer just in time to join the chorus of amen that followed.

  Even though the question of God’s true purpose for bringing her back to Cripple Creek still hung in the air unanswered, the amen certainly was a fitting closure to her prayers for Nicolas, and Jocelyn’s prayers for her ailing papa. God had answered them. Yesterday morning Nicolas had eaten a bowl of oatmeal and drunk a cup of coffee. She’d left satisfied that they’d beaten the infection and he was on the mend.

  “Dear, would you start the egg mess on its journey?” Hattie nodded toward the bowl of scrambled eggs parked in front of Darla.

  “Yes, of course.” She scooped eggs into the serving spoon, taking care to include generous portions of bell peppers, onions, and diced ham in her mess. She looked forward to these hearty morning meals. And couldn’t help but wonder if Nicolas and the girls would enjoy egg mess.

  “I’ll happily take the first two or three biscuits.” Mr. Sinclair set one steaming biscuit on his breakfast plate, then another.

  Hattie’s smile reached the crinkles that framed her blue-gray eyes. “Don’t forget to share, Mister.”

  “Oh, I’ll share.” He winked. “Eventually.”

  As Darla passed the bowl of eggs to Cherise and took the plate of potato cakes from Hattie, she couldn’t help but pray for the kind of love Hattie and Harlan Sinclair shared.

  “Are you all right, dear?” Hattie covered her hand like a mother hen would shelter her chick with a wing.

  “Yes, ma’am. I feel better than I have in a very long time.” Darla patted the knobby hand resting atop hers and met Hattie’s tender gaze. “Thank you.”

  “We love having you here.” Hattie reached for the bread basket. “You will see Nicolas and the girls today?”

  “Yes.” Darla stopped her fork midair. “I’ll go check on Rose and her baby, then see Mrs. Baxter. From there, I’ll go to the Zanzucchis’ home.” Those visits always required more time, or at least, they’d earned more time. Visiting Nicolas and his girls gave her something to look forward to at the end of her workday.

  She’d scooped the last bite of potato cake into her mouth when the new doorbell rang, and Mr. Sinclair rose to answer it. She’d barely had time for a sip of tea before he returned.

  “You have a caller, Miss Taggart.”

  “I do?” She set her teacup in the saucer. Perhaps Dr. Cutshaw had someone to add to her list of home visits.

  “It’s Mr. Zachary Pfeiffer.”

  “Oh.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin and stood. “I’m afraid I left our supper quite abruptly the other evening.”

  “I told Mr. Pfeiffer you’d meet with him in the parlor. Is that agreeable?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Standing, she glanced at Cherise and Hattie. “Please excuse me.”

  When Darla walked into the parlor, Zachary stood in front of the hearth, looking at a small marble bust of President Lincoln from the mantel. He’d traded in the suit for a clean pair of bib-and-brace overalls.

  “Good morning,” she said, walking to the back of the settee. Since their supper on Sunday had been cut short, she needed more time with him in order to determine if there was more to her feelings for him than infatuation and regret; more to his interest in her than physical attraction. Since she didn’t have time for all of that this morning before work, determining the true nature of their relationship would have to wait. Perhaps he was there to arrange another supper.

  Zachary returned the memento to the mantel and faced her, his eyes widening. “You weren’t wearing that the other day.”

  She’d not pinned on the hat yet, but the rest of her uniform was in place, including her white button-up boots. “No. But I did tell you I’m a nurse.”

  “Yes.” He lifted one eyebrow. “A nurse who makes house calls in day dresses and stays for supper. I remember.”

  Her shoulders tensed. He’d seemed happy to see her Saturday. Now he was upset because he’d found her visiting the Zanzucchis? Her mouth suddenly dry, she moistened her lips. Whom she chose to share supper with was her business. But she had abandoned him in the restaurant night before last. He had a right to be disappointed that their reunion had ended so abruptly. He deserved the benefit of the doubt.

  “I’m sorry I had to dash out of the café Sunday night.”

  “And dash off, you did.”

  “Nicolas is my patient, and he was gravely ill.”

  Zachary took a slow step toward the settee. “Everything is all right, then? At the Zanzucchi house?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “I’d hoped to hear from you.” Zachary shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “If not that evening, certainly yesterday.”

  “I should’ve telephoned or sent a message, but I was up most all night Sunday, and I was tired.”

  “You were at his house all night?” His volume had increased with each word.

  She pinched the oak frame on the back of the settee. “When one of my patients is sick and needs me, I’m on duty.”

  “Of course.” His posture softening, he strolled around the settee. Stopping directly in front of her, he brushed her c
heek.

  His touch made her flinch.

  “And if I needed you? You’d be in a big hurry to get to me?”

  “I’ve changed.” And it didn’t seem he had. They’d passed notes before or after church. Met secretly. Kissed. Touched. Conversing had never interested him. That didn’t seem to have changed. It was doubtful that marriage was truly on his mind then or now. “Zachary, the things I want in life have changed.”

  “I find it hard to believe that everything has changed.” Threading their fingers, he drew her in closer.

  She was pulling away to escape his kiss when her landlady sauntered in carrying a silver tray with two steaming teacups.

  “I brought tea before you have to rush off to work.” Hattie set the tray on the table in front of the settee.

  Zachary gave the bib on his overalls a tug and looked Darla in the eye. “You know what I want. And it isn’t tea.”

  “I can offer you tea and conversation.” She looked down at their clasped hands. “Nothing more.”

  He let go and glared at her. “You’re saying that now you’re too good for me?”

  “I’m saying that was then, and this is now.”

  Hattie cleared her throat. Her hands balled at her hips, she pinned Zachary with a steely gaze. “You heard her. Need I fetch Mr. Sinclair?”

  He huffed. “I was just leaving.”

  Hattie’s nod was sharp. “You will show yourself out, then?”

  Shoving his hands into his pockets, he spun toward the entryway. The thud of the front door released Darla’s tears.

  How could she have been so naive? Zachary was not what she wanted. Who she wanted.

  Hattie embraced her, then walked her to the settee and pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pocket. “A cup of tea will help.” When they’d sat down, Hattie lifted a cup from the tray and took a sip. “Mmmm. One lump of sugar and a dash of cream. Just the way I like it.” A grin added a twinkle to her blue-gray eyes.

  “Just the way I like it.” Her landlady hadn’t brought that second teacup in for Zachary. Her friend likely knew more than she’d let on about their relationship four years ago and had come in to chase him off, to liberate her from the past as much as to free her from Zachary’s present notion that nothing needed to change.

  Darla patted her eyes dry and smiled. “Thank you.” She could see why the Sinclair sisters liked lodging at Miss Hattie’s Boardinghouse. Having a mother hen did come in handy.

  Breathing in the fresh air and feeling the warmth of the morning sun through the thin blanket helped some. Jocelyn and Jaya had carried his cot out while Julia made sure his steps toward the door matched hers—small, slow, and careful. The infection and fever had left him feeling weak, but the pain had diminished significantly, and he was gaining strength, little by little. Quite the wonder that sixty hours earlier he’d been in a fever crisis with a nurse camped at his bedside, fighting for his life.

  And not just any nurse. Darla Taggart, dressed in a fine gown. She’d given up her supper out to don an old apron and deal with open wounds and puss.

  Seeing her nestled in his mother’s quilt, asleep in the rocker he’d made, had added to the longing. The same notions he’d experienced watching her play checkers with the girls and having her seated across the supper table from him—before Zach showed up and her breath caught at the mere mention of his name.

  Nicolas sighed. He couldn’t afford to feel something more for her, and that meant he couldn’t have her so close. It wasn’t just his heart at stake, and he didn’t want his girls to believe she could be more to them than his nurse and their friend. He couldn’t continue to allow Darla to endear herself to him or to his daughters. Not when her romantic attentions were clearly focused on Zach. She had a history with him, and what woman wouldn’t prefer a man who didn’t have a ready-made family? A man who could do something besides lie on a cot.

  Raising his head, he glanced toward the dirt street in front of company housing. The matter should be settled by now, and Jocelyn should return from the hospital soon.

  Jaya looked up from the grid where she played hopscotch with Julia. “Is Miss Darla coming today?”

  He drew in a deep breath. “Dr. Cutshaw will send someone else to tend to me.”

  “But I wanted to show her the dog you made.” Julia’s bottom lip stuck out past her button nose.

  “She has other patients to see.”

  “She liked the bird,” Jaya said.

  He remembered their conversation about the phoenix above the door. The awe that lit her green eyes at the sight of it, and the admiration that followed when she learned he’d carved it and why.

  Jaya left her game and joined him at the cot. “Miss Darla wanted to see what else you made.”

  Yes, she’d said she wanted to look through the trunk full of carvings after supper that day. The day things changed.

  Julia pressed her little hands to his arm. “She can see ‘em when she comes to play checkers.”

  “Yes.” Jaya nodded. “Or when she comes to teach Jocelyn how to cook French food.”

  He’d forgotten about the French cooking lesson. He needed to tell them. Nicolas raised up on his elbows. “Miss Darla won’t be coming here anymore.”

  “But I thought she liked us.” Jaya bit her bottom lip.

  “She does.” They’d already given their hearts to her. He’d seen it on Jocelyn’s face when he’d given her the message for Dr. Cutshaw. He reached out and cupped Jaya’s cheek. “Miss Darla does like you. She enjoys your company—all of you girls—but she has a job and work to do elsewhere.” And someone else to eat supper with.

  The frowns on their faces made his heart ache. They all needed a distraction.

  “Let’s go inside and have one of the scones Mrs. Nell brought us.” He slid his left leg off the cot and eased into a standing position. “I can sit in my chair until Jocelyn returns and can help with the cot.”

  He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and accepted a helping hand from Jaya and Julia.

  They were nearly to the stoop when he heard footfalls behind them. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Jocelyn. Instead, a nurse wearing white from head to toe smiled at him. Her white medical bag swung at her side as she approached the cot.

  “What a good idea to spend some time outside today! It’s lovely out.”

  He nodded. Neither the weather nor any of God’s breathtaking landscapes could be as lovely as her. Backlit by the sun, her chestnut curls glowed like a dawn.

  “Mith Darla!” Julia ran to hug the nurse’s leg, seeming to forget she was needed to help him.

  “You’re here!” Jaya’s voice rose.

  “I am here. And it looks like my patient is faring well.”

  “Much better,” he said. “Thanks to you.”

  She awarded him with a smile, then looked around. “Is Jocelyn inside?”

  “I sent her on an errand. She should be back soon.”

  Darla looked at Jaya and Julia, then met his gaze. “Do you need my help getting up the steps?”

  “No.” The flutter of her eyelashes told him he’d spoken too abruptly. “Thank you. But we can manage.” She wasn’t supposed to be here, and now he would have to tell her so. But how?

  Julia dashed back to him and grabbed his hand.

  “All right. The least I can do is help with the cot.” Darla tipped the metal contraption on its side and folded the legs.

  “Thank you.” At the top of the steps, he pushed the door wide open with his foot and stepped inside, one daughter leading, one following.

  Julia held the door open with her free hand. “Papa said you wouldn’t be coming anymore.”

  “What?” Darla stopped just shy of the doorway, not two feet from him.

  The question of how he would tell her had been decided for him. He braced himself on the armchair.

  “You told them I wouldn’t be coming to your home anymore?”

  Jaya nodded. “He said someone else would tend to him.�
�

  “Someone else?” She set the edge of the cot across the threshold and looked up at him. “Is that true?”

  “Girls, now would be a good time for you to work on your school lessons,” Nicolas said, his shoulders tensing. “In your room.”

  Jaya tugged Julia’s dress sleeve and pulled her toward the bedroom the girls shared.

  While his resolve battled his feelings, Nicolas drew in a deep breath. “It’s true. I sent Jocelyn to the hospital this morning with a note for Dr. Cutshaw, asking him to find a replacement.”

  “But why? I thought we were getting along well.” Darla’s voice caught. “Did I do something wrong?”

  He leaned forward. “You spent the night here.”

  She jerked herself upright. “You’re questioning my virtue?”

  “That’s not it.”

  “Then what are you talking about? I am your nurse.” She pointed at her uniform. “It was my job to see to your medical needs.”

  “Yes. But it wasn’t your job to tend to me during your off hours.” Wincing, he lowered himself into the chair. “Not while you were dressed like a princess and out with a man you care for.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “With a man I care for?” Darla carried the cot inside and set it up with abrupt movements. “None of this should surprise me.” Her steps heavy, she returned to the doorway and faced him. “You don’t approve of me having supper with Zachary. As if you, or he, have attained some sort of ownership of me.”

  Nicolas fought a twinge of remorse. It was true that he didn’t like the fact, but his decision was based upon release, not upon a sense of ownership. “I doubt Zach was pleased that you rushed off, that you stayed the night here.”

  “Papa? Miss Darla?”

  Nicolas looked at the doorway, where Jocelyn stood at the bottom of the steps, her eyes wide.

  Darla turned her back to him. “I didn’t hear you, Jocelyn. Did you deliver your father’s message to Dr. Cutshaw?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Darla stepped aside, letting the girl past. “Did the doctor respond?”

  “He did. That’s what took me so long.” Jocelyn handed a folded piece of paper to Nicolas. “He asked me to wait while he wrote you a reply.” She looked at Darla. “He said he would send another nurse out later this afternoon.”