The Doctor Takes a Wife Page 7

  “I’ll come help, too.” Sarah reached for her shawl.

  Prissy put out a staying hand. “You’d better stay here, in case Dr. Walker comes back soon. I have a feeling he’s going to need to talk.”

  Sarah paced the cottage restlessly after Prissy left, dusting furniture that didn’t need it, rearranging things, going to the window to stare out into the gathering dark.

  Nolan arrived, looking haggard and careworn, about an hour after the Brookfields left.

  “Ada’s sleeping. I gave her a sedative and her mother put her to bed,” he replied to her wordless question as she let him in. “No, I won’t stay that long,” he said, when she would have taken his coat. “I just wanted to come and see if you were all right, after what happened, and to explain….”

  “I’m all right,” she assured him, touched by the anxious look in his eyes. “And perhaps it will make it easier if you know that Milly told me and Prissy about Ada’s being…um…with child,” she said, feeling herself flush as she spoke about the delicate matter, “and that Ada told her the father was that Englishman, Harvey Blakely. Then the Comanche attack happened and he was killed….”

  Nolan sighed, clearly relieved. “Yes, that does make it easier. Then you know there’s no truth to what she said about me being the father.”

  “Of course. Nolan, at least come sit by the fire and have a cup of tea before you go,” Sarah insisted. “You look exhausted.”

  Following her to the settle in front of the fire, he admitted he was. “The reverend and I stayed awhile to talk to her parents after she finally fell asleep.”

  “How are they?” Sarah asked.

  “Worried, of course,” he said, giving her a grateful smile as he accepted the cup of tea she had poured. “They’ve been concerned about her odd behavior for months now, and didn’t know what to do—they were too ashamed to speak to anyone about it. I think as much as they were embarrassed to learn that she had sneaked out of the house in that outlandish dress and made a scene at the open house, they were relieved to know there was a cause for Ada’s…shall we say, unusual behavior. Reverend Chadwick and I assured them we’d help in any way we can.” He took a breath and added, “Your pastor is a good man.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  Nolan stared into the fire. “They didn’t know about her claim that she’s expecting.”

  “They didn’t?” Then her mind focused on the way he had said it. “Why did you put it that way, Nolan—‘her claim’? You don’t think she’s with child?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t want to talk about this, but after what happened, and especially the way she acted toward you, I think the time for silence is over—for your safety, if for no other reason. I examined Ada once in my office, and I wasn’t sure she was with child then. I helped her mother get her to bed tonight, and…well, to put it as delicately as I should to a lady, there’s no changes to her body that should be there by now, if her story was true.”

  “There aren’t? Then why would she tell such a story?” Sarah asked. “She has to know the truth will come out eventually when there’s no baby.”

  “Because I think she believes it’s true. It’s my opinion she has what’s called a hysterical pregnancy, Sarah. Throughout history some women who wanted a child badly enough have somehow tricked their bodies into displaying some of the symptoms of pregnancy. I don’t know if you ever read any English history, but Queen Mary, sister of Queen Elizabeth, suffered from this delusion too, back in the sixteenth century.”

  Sarah stared at him, trying to take it all in. “Did you tell this to her parents?”

  Nolan nodded. “I’ve urged them to consult another doctor in the closest town, just to confirm what I’m saying. I’ve told them I’ll remain her doctor if they’re willing, but her mother must come with her to her appointments.”

  “Now I understand why you said she needed a friend to confide in,” Sarah said. “Nolan, I tried, but I never had the chance to speak to her,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m the one who should be sorry for even suggesting it,” he said. “I didn’t realize until the scene at the party how brittle her hold on sanity is. It might have been dangerous for you to reach out to her.”

  “You meant well,” she told him. “Nolan, Milly says she might need to be in an asylum.”

  He sighed again. “It’s possible, though I hope not. Mrs. Spencer told me that there’s been a history of insanity in the family tree. Her grandmother died in an asylum.” Then he studied her for a long time. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you all that, but after the way she reacted toward you, I thought it was best that you know.” His gaze locked with hers. “And I find you so easy to talk to, Sarah.”

  She looked down, her heart beating faster at the directness of his gaze. “You may trust me not to gossip, Nolan,” she assured him.

  “I knew that,” he said. The clock struck the hour. “And now I must bid you good night.” He rose.

  She stood up, too, and went to the door with him.

  He looked down at her as he opened the door, the planes of his angular face shadowed by the darkness. He smiled.

  She had the oddest feeling he had wanted to kiss her. She couldn’t have allowed it, of course. They had agreed to be friends, but even if she was willing to forget he was a Yankee, she reminded herself, he wasn’t a Christian. The Bible warned against being unequally yoked in marriage, so friends was all they could ever be.

  How silly of you, Sarah. Just because a man has a certain look in his eye, that doesn’t mean you need to think of why you can’t marry him!

  So why did she feel a moment of regret as she watched him walk away?

  Chapter Nine

  Nolan was thoughtful as he made his way back home. He’d been pleased and relieved that Sarah, though she’d blushed and looked embarrassed, was willing to speak with him about such a frank subject. Most women wouldn’t have spoken about pregnancy to any male except their husbands. And many women might have believed Ada’s ranting.

  He’d been surprised by Reverend Chadwick, too. He’d been introduced to the town’s preacher when he arrived in town, of course, and became more relaxed when the minister didn’t seem inclined to pester him about coming to church. He’d assumed the cleric had written him off as a potential member of his congregation.

  But tonight he’d been impressed by Chadwick’s overwhelming patience toward Ada. Despite the vile names the madwoman called him as she tried to bite and scratch him and the two other men, Reverend Chadwick had never shown himself the least bit angry or even exasperated with her, continuing to speak kindly and calmly to her as they struggled to take her home. He’d been a rock of support to her elderly parents, too, when they’d huddled, bewildered and distraught, to hear what Nolan had to say about their daughter’s condition.

  What a difference existed between Reverend Chadwick and the chaplain who’d served with Nolan. Though the chaplain had been a favorite of the men of the regiment, he’d avoided the captured, injured Confederates he was also supposed to minister to as if they had the plague.

  Nolan had once taken him to task about it.

  “What an idea, Doctor, that I should treat those rebels as if they deserved the same as our boys in blue!” he’d cried, recoiling at the idea. “Why, at home in Illinois, my wife and I ran an underground railroad station. You should have seen some of the poor creatures who came to our house, running for their lives away from cruel slave owners. And you’re telling me that you think I should speak of God’s mercy to the very men who held them in bondage?”

  Nolan had very much doubted most of the scary, skinny men and boys in the tattered remains of gray uniforms had ever owned slaves, let alone the ones who’d come to the chaplain’s home, but he didn’t trouble himself to argue with the man. He didn’t think wounded, dying rebels would find much comfort in anything that man had to say.

  Reverend Chadwick lived in a small house behind the church, so he and Nolan walked together whe
n they’d left the Spencers’ house and Nick had gone to fetch his wife.

  “That was very troubling,” Chadwick said, as they walked. “I’ll be praying for her.”

  Nolan sensed the man was hoping Nolan would say he would pray for her, too, but he didn’t want to tell the preacher how little he believed in prayer. “Have you known the Spencers long?” he asked instead.

  Chadwick nodded. “They moved to Simpson Creek when Ada was a babe in arms. She was just like any other young lady before that Harvey fellow came to town—happy, but wishing for a beau. It’s very sad to see her like this now.” He was silent for a few strides. “I’ll be praying for you, too, son. That can’t have been pleasant, having such an accusation leveled at you in front of all those folks.”

  “No,” Nolan agreed. He was touched by the reverend’s caring. Though Nolan didn’t think the prayers would accomplish anything, he could still value the kindness of the gesture. “You don’t think anyone will believe it, do you?”

  “Sensible people, no,” the reverend said. “Though there are always a few who are willing to believe the worst rather than the best. But the people around here need a doctor too much to ride that high horse for long. Oh, your ears may burn for a few days until some other topic becomes a nine days’ wonder. That’s the way of small towns, I suppose.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not telling me the best thing I could do to dispel the rumor would be sitting in a one of your pews every Sunday,” Nolan said. He watched for the man’s reaction.

  Chadwick gave a chuckle. “There are probably better reasons for coming to church than as an antidote to gossip,” he said, unoffended. “But you know you’re welcome, Nolan. And whether you come or not, I’m always here to listen if you need to talk. You minister to bodies, while I minister to souls—but both can be lonely at times, I think.”

  Nolan had heard the reverend was a widower, but he thought Chadwick meant more than that.

  “But as for church, if you don’t come to hear me preach, you might come to hear Sarah play the piano. She’s very gifted.”

  Sarah played the piano? It was something he hadn’t known about her. But then, she wasn’t one to boast of her accomplishments.

  The reverend was watching him with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, perhaps I’ve given you a good reason,” he said with another chuckle. “I heard you say you were going to go back and tell her what happened. Perhaps you ought to do that now, son, before it gets any later. She looked worried.”

  Now, having finished his talk with Sarah, he let himself inside his dark house and reached for the match safe so he could light the lamp on the entry table. His mind turned back to his talk with the reverend.

  Even when Nolan had steered the conversation toward the church, Chadwick had never once made him feel that he thought less of him for not attending. Interesting.

  His thoughts turned again to Sarah. Before the scene at the party, he had decided to gently pursue her, and gradually try to break down her resistance against him courting her. But now that Ada Spencer had made a public accusation against him, and had included Sarah in her venomous attack, he wasn’t sure what to do. Perhaps he should just let things lie for a while until the gossip died a natural death.

  He couldn’t stop his eyes from searching for her, though, during the next fortnight, as he walked to the hotel for some of his meals and to the mercantile for supplies. But he didn’t encounter the shy, golden-haired beauty making her rounds of deliveries to either place.

  The number of patients coming to his office had dwindled since the party. He’d gotten some pointed looks by a few townspeople on the street, people he remembered seeing at the New Year’s Day party, and two or three times conversations had ceased just as he’d entered the hotel restaurant or the mercantile. He’d tried not to let it bother him, supposing they’d realize they were wrong when Ada Spencer never gave birth, but after his initial warm reception when he’d first come to Simpson Creek, he’d be lying if he told himself their reaction didn’t hurt.

  But there were still those who either hadn’t heard about Ada’s wild accusation or needed doctoring too much to care, such as the elderly widow who came in because of catarrh, the near-deaf old man complaining of rheumatism, a young mother bringing in a fretful child with quinsy throat or a cowboy “all stove up” after being thrown from a horse he was trying to break.

  He looked up each time the bell at the door of his office tinkled to announce an arrival, hoping against hope it was Sarah coming to visit, but he was always disappointed. At least, if it wasn’t Sarah, it wasn’t Ada Spencer, either. He hadn’t seen the unstable woman since the New Year’s Day party, though he had seen her mother walking past his house with a basket in her hands as if she was doing some errands. He supposed he should call and inquire about Ada’s welfare, but he wouldn’t go alone, he’d take the reverend with him. It was just common sense.

  Finally, curiosity got the best of him one morning when he spotted Prissy coming out of their cottage as he walked by on his way to the mercantile for a new can of Arbuckle’s coffee. He waved and called out to her.

  “Fine weather for January, isn’t it, Miss Prissy? Back home in Maine we’d likely be wading through a foot of snow,” he began, wondering how soon he could inquire about Sarah and still sound casual.

  “I sure wouldn’t want it to be any colder than this,” Prissy said, shivering and pulling her coat more closely about her. “Though I would like to see snow, just once. You just never know about winter in this part of Texas—some days it can feel like spring, and then a norther will blow in. But you’re not really interested in the weather, are you? You want to ask me about Sarah, so why don’t you go ahead and do that?” Her eyes danced with mischief.

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “As always, Miss Prissy, you see through me all too easily,” he said. “How is Sarah? I haven’t seen her around for a few days.”

  “That’s because she’s been out at the ranch almost since the party,” Prissy said. “Her sister’s found out she’s expecting a baby, and she’s had a rough time of it with morning sickness. Sarah went out to help with the cooking till Milly’s feeling better because she couldn’t even brew the coffee without being ill. I’ve really been missing Sarah—I’ve had no one to test out my cooking on but Mama and Papa, and Papa says he’d rather eat Flora’s—that’s our cook—meals until I get a little better,” she said ruefully.

  “Hmm, perhaps I should pay Mrs. Brookfield a call,” Nolan murmured, thinking he could kill two birds with one stone—offer any medical help that the first-time mother needed, and see Sarah at the same time. “If you don’t think that would be presumptuous, that is, since she hasn’t sent for me.”

  “You could, and of course it wouldn’t be presumptuous, you silly Yankee man, it would be neighborly,” Prissy said, chuckling.

  Not expecting any patients, Nolan had gone straight home, intending to hitch up his buggy and drive right out there after dinner. But as soon as he’d finished eating, Ed Thompson, who owned a nearby ranch, arrived at his office with a boil that needed to be lanced.

  Nolan drove out to the Brookfield ranch after that, only to be told that Sarah had just left the ranch after dinner, for Milly was feeling well enough to cope with the cooking again. Milly Brookfield was radiant with happiness that she would give her Nick a child in the early fall. She thanked Nolan for the kindness of coming to check on her.

  He promised to deliver her baby when it came, of course, even while he thought of how Sarah must have ridden back to town while he was eating his dinner, or perhaps while he was attending to Thompson.

  It seemed if he was to see her, he must take Chadwick’s suggestion and come to church after all. He hoped God—if there was a God, which he very much doubted—wouldn’t mind that he was trespassing in His house just to see the golden-haired beauty who played piano every Sunday.

  Too bad it was Monday. Sunday had just passed and he would have to wait until it rolled around again. Bu
t perhaps he would get lucky and see her before Sunday, and not have to go to church after all. Prissy would have told her that he’d been looking for her—perhaps he could contrive to “accidentally” encounter Sarah instead of attending church to see her. He’d rather not be a hypocrite if he could help it.

  But the next day marked the beginning of a disaster, and after that he was much too busy to think about maneuvering a chance meeting with Sarah Matthews, or going to church just to see her.

  Chapter Ten

  A pounding at the door roused Nolan from a sleep filled with uneasy dreams.

  “Sorry to wake you like this, Doc, but please, kin you come out to the ranch?” the distraught-looking man on his porch pleaded, when Nolan went to the door. “I’m Hal Parker’s son, Hank. Pa’s took real bad with a fever, and he says he kin hardly catch his breath.

  “Pa caught cold a week ago,” the middle-aged Hank Parker went on while he helped Nolan hitch his horse to the buggy. “He was sneezin’ a lot an’ didn’t seem too bad at first, but now it seems like he jes’ cain’t shake it. He’s achin’ all over, feverish and his breath’s rattlin’ in his chest…we were gonna wait till mornin’ t’call you, but he says he can’t get no air…”

  “No, no, you did right,” Nolan assured him, and soon they were on the road heading eastward to the ranch that lay between Simpson Creek and San Saba, Parker riding alongside Nolan’s buggy. Nolan feared the old man’s condition had gone into pneumonia.

  When they arrived at the ranch house, Hank escorted him into the retired rancher’s bedroom, where his father lay in the bed, propped up by pillows and surrounded by his anxious old wife, the son’s wife and a quartet of sleepy-looking children of various heights. All of them edged politely back against the wall as Nolan entered the room with his black doctor’s bag.

  Hal Parker labored for each rasping breath. The sound of it filled the small room.