Kathryn Albright – The Prairie Doctor’s Bride (страница 3)

With a glance at Carl, Henry walked over to the corner stock of canning and pickling supplies. “These will have to do. It’s the only size I have left over from last summer. There’ll be a new shipment in June.”

“They’ll do fine,” she said crisply. She just wanted to get out of town as quickly as possible, before Carl got any more mean ideas.

Mr. Gallagher got the cheesecloth and picked up a case of the jars and carried them out to her wagon.

As soon as the man disappeared through the doorway, Carl sauntered over to the counter. “These yours?” He held up her basket of eggs, the handle balanced on one stubby finger as he swung the basket to and fro.

Her chest tightened. “Carl, why are you being like this? You’d best put that down.”

Carl shrugged. “You ain’t been by to see me in a long time. I near forgot how you looked. Just catchin’ up is all.”

The arc of the basket’s swing got wider and wilder. One egg flew out and splattered on the floor.

Anger exploded inside. Her chest tightened. Such waste! “What do you think you are doing?” She rushed forward, reaching to steady the basket.

He held it just beyond her reach. His mouth curved into a taunting jeer. Another egg flew out and met the same end on the mercantile’s plank floor. “What’ll ya give to get them back?”

Her heart pounded. “Now, you listen here. Those eggs belong to the Gallaghers now. There’s no sense in what you are doing.”

He grabbed her wrist, his fingernails digging into her skin, as he held up her arm just high enough to put her off balance. “Don’t you point your finger at me, missy. You always did think you were better than me and we both know it ain’t so.”

His words hurt—cut—as much as those grimy nails of his. She hadn’t made the best choices in life, but she couldn’t think about that now. Not with Tommy looking on. It was better to let the anger take over than to let what he said get to her inside.

Heat built up and rolled through her. Her jaw tightened. “You let me go.”

He huffed out a breath. “Or what? What you gonna do? You ain’t no bigger than a mite.”

“Mama?” Worry filled Tommy’s high-pitched voice.

She hated that he was a witness to Carl’s bullying, but there was nothing she could do about it. She twisted her arm, glaring back up at Carl. “Let go of me.”

“I’m just having a little fun. You know what that is? Fun?”

“This ain’t it. Not by a long shot.” She stomped down with the heel of her old boot on his foot. Hard.

Surprised, he loosened his grip for a moment, only to grab hold again. His jaw tightened. “Why, you little—”

“What’s going on here?”

A man stood in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the early-morning sunlight on his back. He was tall as an oak tree with a deep voice to match. Sylvia couldn’t recall ever seeing him in town before.

Carl’s grip loosened. She wrenched from his grasp.

Carl sneered and let go of the basket.

Before she could think to react, the tall man scooped it up, saving the eggs just inches from the hard floor. His actions were so quick and precise that Sylvia stood there in shocked silence, her mouth gaping open, as he handed the basket back to her.

“It appears none are injured,” he said in that deep voice.

She closed her mouth.

His gaze, green as the pines in the Shenandoah, skimmed over her, before he turned back to Carl. “How’s that rope burn?”

Carl scowled. “Healed up.”

“Glad to hear it.” The man didn’t budge. He seemed to be just fine with waiting for Carl to make the next move.

Carl scowled again. He tugged his wide-brimmed hat down over his ears. “Guess the fun’s over. Gotta get back to the stockyards anyways.”

It was all Sylvia could do to hold in her relief as he stomped away. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, and in the case of the Caulders, she’d learned it was half-rotten before it hit the ground. Only Thomas had been different, taking after his ma’s side of the family instead of his pa’s. She’d been wary of Carl for some time, but when he didn’t come around for a while, she thought things were better. For years, he’d had a woman friend over near Fort Wallace who kept him busy. If that wasn’t the case anymore, guess she would have to watch out for him from now on whenever she and Tommy came to town.

“What can I do for you, Doc?” Henry asked from behind the counter.

Doc? Sylvia turned back and stared as the tall man walked over to the counter. So, this was the doctor that Mayor Melbourne had talked into staying in Oak Grove. She’d heard tell of him a year or so ago but never had a reason to meet the man face-to-face.

She took in the way he was dressed—his white shirt was a bit rumpled, but clean. He wore one of those shoestring neckties she’d heard tell of and it wasn’t even Sunday! His dark burgundy vest had fancy stitching along the edges, like something she’d seen when she lived back East. He had dark brown scruff along his jaw and chin and upper lip. Seemed he wasn’t sure whether he was growing a beard and a mustache or not. His wavy hair was so thick it sprung like a soft cushion from his head. That, she could tell because he didn’t wear a hat or overcoat.

Didn’t he have the sense to know he’d catch his death of a cold in this wayward weather? Spring in Kansas was nothing to sneeze at, half the time cold, wet and windy and the other time sunny, hot and still windy. But today was a sunny one, so guess he had a right to enjoy the feel of it on his head after the fright of a winter they’d had.

“I passed the supply wagon late yesterday on my way back from Putnam’s ranch. Thought I’d check to see if my order of medicine and books came in.”

“I haven’t had a chance to look through the packages,” Henry said. “If you’ll wait, I’ll open them up.”

Funny how accommodating Mr. Gallagher was with other people. Guess some folks just counted more than others. Tommy inched up beside her and slipped his hand into hers. A peace stole over her as she felt the warmth of his skin against hers. Maybe she didn’t count to these townsfolk, but she sure as shootin’ counted to Tommy. And for her, that meant everything.

She walked up to the counter and set her basket down. “I have your eggs here. Let’s settle up. I gotta start back.” She caught a whiff of some fancy lotion or soap the doc had used on himself. Mmm, but he smelled good.

“Soon as I take care of the doctor,” Mr. Gallagher said.

She frowned. She’d been in town long enough and would have been long gone by now had it not been for Carl. “I got me a young ’un to watch out for. ’Sides that, Miss Petunia is in a family way and shouldn’t be left on her own too long.”

The doctor cocked his head. “Miss Petunia? I haven’t come across her in my outlying visits.”

He’d mistaken the name of her sheep for a woman! A chuckle nearly escaped before she clamped her lips tightly shut. She didn’t intend to correct him, seeing as how she probably wouldn’t run into him again.

Slowly, he took in the length of her down to her worn boots, before coming back to her face. With his chin, he pointed at her wrist—the one that Carl had gripped so hard. Only now that Carl was gone did she feel the sting. She hunched her shoulders to coax the end of her sleeve down over the reddened and scratched skin.

“Might want to put salve on that. I’ve got some back at my office.”

She moved away from him, covering her wrist with her other hand. Whether he did or not, she wasn’t going anywhere with him—no matter that he’d saved her basket of eggs. “I can take care of it myself.”

“I’m sure you can, Mrs....?” He let the word hang there. When she didn’t supply a name, he continued. “I’m Nelson Graham, the doctor here in town. The salve I have is made in Kansas City by a reputable apothecary.”

Maybe he was only trying to be helpful. Carl had put her on edge—made her realize all over again how foolish she’d been in her youth to get involved with the Caulder family. She’d learned her lesson, but there was no turning back, no undoing what had come about. She’d keep to herself and take care of herself and that was the end of it. “I thank you for catchin’ these eggs before that scallywag dropped them all on the floor. I needed them to finish this here piece.”

His brow furrowed. “Transaction?”

She frowned right back. Didn’t he know English? “That’s what I said.”

She waited while Mr. Gallagher transferred the eggs into a pail, all the while knowing the doctor watched her. It made her uncomfortable...more than it would had he been someone else from town. She knew where she stood with them. This Doc Graham looked down at her like she was a puzzle and he wanted to figure her out. Well, she liked her privacy and he’d just have to be satisfied with some disappointment.

“I find it odd that I’ve been in town for some time and never knew there was a midwife nearby.”

She stiffened. He just couldn’t keep his nose out of her business! “If you call helping my sheep in her time of confinement midwifing, then I guess that’s what I am.” She didn’t wait to see what his reaction would be but pointed out a twenty-five-pound sack of flour and another of oats that she needed. “That too, Mr. Gallagher.”