Prairie Romance Collection Read online

  Ignoring him, she asked Josh, “How about some nourishment?” Then she pushed another pillow behind Josh’s head before she pulled the tray close.

  He eyed the cup and bowl suspiciously.

  She hesitated. “Which would you like first, tea or broth?”

  His gaze darted to her face in disbelief. “Does it make a difference?”

  “Not to me,” she answered cheerily, and lifting the bowl to his chin, she gave him a spoonful of bouillon.

  He grimaced. “I’ve tossed better stuff than that in the fire.”

  Before he could say more, she fed him another spoonful. “Who says it’s supposed to be good? All that matters is it’s full of nutrition.”

  His eyes narrowed. “If it’s awful, it must be good for me; is that what you’re saying?”

  She laughed. “I suppose I am.”

  He shook his head. “What a dreadful idea.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “Thank goodness life isn’t like that. God has given us so much to enjoy. Like nature, friends, and…” He darted a look at the tray. “Good food.”

  She blinked. He had put into words a sentiment that had been flickering in the back of her mind for a long time. With all her heart she believed life was not all pain and disappointment. There was so much good to be enjoyed—gifts from a good and loving God. Like her home, her job, her life here in town. So many of life’s unpleasantries were self-inflicted. She clenched her teeth, vowing once again not to make any of the same unwise and devastating choices that her parents had made.

  “Ah, sweet Dora, you should not look so sad.”

  She stifled a gasp. Heat raced up her neck. Such brashness. But she’d heard about wild cowboys.

  He held both palms toward her. “Don’t get all flustered. I’m not meaning to be bold.”

  She kept her head bent, unwilling to meet his gaze.

  “Some of that tea would be good.”

  With a guilty start, she realized she had forgotten about feeding him. He downed the last of the broth and drank his tea then nestled back into his pillow.

  Filled with an uncomfortable restlessness, she gathered up the utensils and tray and hurried to the kitchen. It was empty, and the house quiet. Doc had undoubtedly gone on his rounds, and Mrs. Mac would be resting.

  Dora quickly washed the dishes. Josh’s remark about enjoying good things triggered her interest. Obviously, he was a God-fearing man. It might be amusing to get to know him. She bit her bottom lip. Too bad he was a cowboy.

  When she returned to the sickroom, Josh lay with his eyes closed. Dora hesitated, but Josh sensed her presence and slowly opened his eyes. “Glad to see you back,” he said with a smile. “I thought I might have scared you off and would have to spend the rest of the day staring at the walls.” His eyes darkened. “I was thinking about going to find you.”

  Remembering Doc’s orders, she shook her head. “Doc would have my skin if you did.”

  “I guess that means you have to entertain me then.” The smug look on his face made her laugh.

  “I’m not sure that’s what he meant.”

  He sighed deep and long. “I feel like I’ve been hog-tied. All the while, my insides are yearning to move.”

  Dora made a cluck of sympathy. He had capitulated so completely to Doc’s orders that she had failed to realize how much it cost him. Now her heart reached out to ease his restlessness. “What are you so anxious to be doing?”

  His eyes brightened. “I’m headed west.”

  She closed her eyes for a heartbeat. Another fool after land and riches. Chasing an empty bubble. And just when she had decided that he thought the same as she.

  “Why are you heading west?” As if she didn’t know the answer. The lonely feeling that had surfaced earlier now returned, and she struggled to submerge the emotion. Life was good and pleasant. She would allow nothing to mar her happiness. Not after God had so generously provided.

  “I’m going to find me the nicest piece of land ever and start my own little farm.” His gaze drifted away, and she knew he was seeing his own dream world.

  She shook her head. How often she’d seen that look and heard that tone. Yet, even more often, she had seen the helpless desperation in a child’s gaunt face. Her insides coiled, and she pushed away the memories, forcing herself to concentrate on making conversation with her patient—this dreamer headed into the unknown with nothing but a headful of secondhand lies.

  “Have you any idea what you’re headed for?” She managed to keep her voice smooth and tried to ignore the unreasonable twinge in her heart.

  “I’ve seen it. A few years ago I was trailing a herd to Cochrane Ranch. Prettiest country I ever saw. The air is so pure you can taste yesterday’s rain. The moon was so big and golden I was sure it was snagged on a pine tree.” He took a deep breath.

  “I never saw a sky so blue. Seemed like you could reach out and touch it.” He turned to Dora with an eager look in his eyes. “You should have seen the flowers. Wild roses so sweet that I dreamed of them at night. Harebells like fine china.” He grinned at Dora. “Why, I bet you could hear them ringing if you sat real still.”

  Not certain what he meant, she stared at him. Then, seeing the twinkle in his eye, she laughed low in her throat. “Indeed?” she replied. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard the sound of harebells ringing.”

  He chuckled, beaming at her. “Me neither, but who knows. The country is dandy. So purdy—the land nearly sings.” He lay back and stared at the ceiling. “I already knew that I didn’t want to be trailing doggies the rest of my life. I made up my mind the minute I saw that little spot of heaven. I would work and save until I had enough to set me up in a nice little place of my own.” He heaved a chest- raising sigh. “And just when I figured that the right time had come, I find myself laid up here.”

  She didn’t answer. He made the west country sound like paradise on earth. She could almost hear the music and the bells he described. But she had seen another version of paradise, one with dark corners.

  “Perhaps you’ve been given a warning” At the sudden change in his expression, she clamped her lips together.

  “There you go again. Figuring bad things are good for you.”

  She wanted to argue. That was not what she had said, nor meant. But he drew his brows together and continued.

  “Don’t you think I’ve had plenty of time to think and pray about this?” The fierceness in his expression disappeared as quickly as it had come. “This is a delay. For what purpose, I have no notion. However, my aim is still the same.”

  Stung by his words, and even more by his judgment, she faced him squarely. “I suppose you know all about farming?”

  “I’ve been keeping my eyes open, and I know enough to run myself a few cows and grow them some feed.” He paused. “Besides, I learn quick.”

  Her annoyance fled as fast as it came. “I’m sorry,” Dora offered, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s none of my business. Perhaps I’ve seen too many people lose all they had in the trying.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe I’m a fool, but I don’t see I have much to lose.”

  Just then, Doc appeared to check on his patient and repeat his order for quiet and rest. A few minutes later, Constable Andrews arrived to ask Josh a few questions and get his description of the two men who had attacked and robbed him. Before the Mountie left, he brought in a pair of saddlebags from the waiting room.

  “I have no way of knowing what’s missing, but I thought you might like to have your things at hand.” He tossed the leather bags on the foot of the bed. “The rest of your tack is at the livery barn. You can pick it up there when you are able to be up and about.”

  After the Mountie’s departure, Dora insisted that her patient rest for a few hours. While he slept, she made a quick trip to the butcher shop and bought a stewing hen, which she put on the stove to simmer. After preparing a meal and dining with the Mackenzies, she helped Doc with his office patients. Despite her busyness, her mind kept returning to th
e sickroom and her patient. She hoped he was resting quietly and his wounds were healing.

  Doc glanced at the door several times as well. “Hope the lad is obeying orders,” he murmured under his breath between patients. But another rush of patients prevented either of them from checking on Josh.

  “We’re done now, lass,” Doc said as he closed the door on their last patient. “Go see how our cowboy is getting along.”

  Doc sat behind his desk and drew his heavy green ledger close. She hurried toward the sickroom, knowing that the doctor would be preoccupied for some time.

  Chapter 2

  She brushed a tendril of hair from her face and reached for the knob then pulled back, not wanting to waken him if he were asleep. Turning the glass knob slowly, she eased the door open and tiptoed into the room.

  The afternoon sun filtered through the lace curtains, shooting bright light across the room and making it difficult to distinguish details. Before her eyes adjusted, Josh called out.

  “Dora. Thank goodness. I thought no one was coming back.” His voice rang with desperation. “Tell me, please. What is that gut-wrenching smell?”

  She chuckled. “That would be Lister’s spray. A disinfectant that keeps disease from spreading.”

  “I can believe that. No disease would want to get near such a stench!”

  Her eyes had adjusted to the light, and she gasped. “How did you get that stuff?” Items lay scattered across his bedside.

  “From my saddlebag.” He sounded apprehensive. “I was so bored.” He grew defensive. “I barely had to move. Knew exactly where they were. Just had to reach out my toe and drag it close.”

  She shook her head. It would be a miracle if he hadn’t started the wound bleeding again.

  “You won’t tell Doc, will you? I promise I was very careful and didn’t pull anything loose. Please, Dora, be a pal.”

  She looked away from his begging eyes. She knew she shouldn’t agree to such a scheme, but she also knew that she would. For the life of her, she couldn’t explain why.

  “We’d better tidy up.” She gathered up the items, surprised when she examined them more closely. Besides several rolled-up pairs of socks and a new pair of leather gloves, there was a well-worn leather Bible, its cover as soft as velvet. He retrieved an equally worn book, The Great Lone Land, and a picture before she could pack them away.

  He watched her, smiling gently. “Thanks a heap.”

  She straightened and smoothed the crazy-patch quilt, carefully avoiding his gaze—a gaze that somehow compelled her to do things she wouldn’t normally agree to do.

  Again, his voice softly pleaded, “Could I ask one more favor?” His words made her feel that to refuse him would be mean.

  She steeled herself. “You can ask.”

  He chuckled. “All I want is for you to open those curtains so I can enjoy the sunshine.”

  His request was so mundane that she had to laugh at her defensiveness as she crossed the floor to do his bidding. Light flooded the room when she pulled back the curtains. Turning back toward Josh, she observed a look of pure pleasure on his face as he lay with his eyes closed. She quickly turned away, for she felt as though she were intruding on someone in the midst of private prayer.

  “Does the window open?”

  “Certainly.” She pushed the sash upward. A refreshing breeze, full of spring warmth and laden with the musky smell of recent winter snow, lifted the lace curtains to brush against her arms. Dora filled her lungs with fresh air.

  The room was quiet. A child’s voice sounded somewhere in the distance, and a horse clip-clopped down the street. Dora turned to look at Josh. In the bright light, his skin was even more tanned, a stark contrast to the bandage on his forehead. Gold streaks played through his brown curls.

  As she studied him, his eyes opened. His expression warm, he said, “Now I can breathe.” He smiled. “I’ve been looking at the picture of my family. See, here they are.” He motioned for her to come to his side.

  She looked down at the picture, still feeling the lure of the spring breeze.

  Then she bent closer. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” She hadn’t meant to sound so startled.

  “I’m the oldest of ten.” There was no disguising his pride.

  “These three,”—he explained, pointing to the smaller ones—“Ruthie, Tessa, and Mark, were born after I left home. Ruthie’s nine years old, Tessa’s seven, and Mark just turned five.”

  Dora bent closer. “You’re the eldest?” There seemed to be several adults in the photo.

  “Firstborn. That’s me. This…” With his index finger he pointed to a young man who bore a resemblance to Josh. “This is Andy. He’s twenty-four. As soon as I saw he was keen on running the mill, unlike myself, I declared I was going to follow my dream. Ten years now I’ve been working, mostly as a ranch hand or trailing cows.” He ran his finger back and forth across the picture. “Good work. Good experience. But I’m ready to settle down and build something for myself. And someday, God willing, for my family.”

  Dora kept her head bent over the picture. These faces stirred an all-too-familiar feeling within her. The same old dream. The same empty hope she’d seen before. The lure of owning land and creating something for future generations to have and hold. So much hope. So much disappointment and despair. Such a waste. Finally, she lifted her gaze to Josh. “Don’t your parents need you at home?”

  “There was barely enough of everything to go around. As we grew into adulthood, it seemed there was less.”

  She narrowed her eyes, amazed that he seemed to feel no bitterness at such a lean existence.

  “I go and visit whenever I can.” He let his hands drop to his chest. The photo pointed toward the ceiling. “I spent a fortnight with them before I started west. Saying good-bye this time was harder than lassoing a racing bronc, knowing it might be a long while before I see them again.” His thumb rubbed the photo. “The little ones will hardly remember me.”

  She clenched her hands into fists. Her insides screamed to tell him to give up this foolish chase. Instead, she took a deep breath and said, “I put a chicken on the stove to simmer several hours ago. Perhaps you’d like some homemade chicken broth.”

  He pressed his hands to his chest. “Dora, now I’m certain you’re an angel of mercy. Sure you can’t add some noodles or potatoes?”

  She shook her head. “Not till Doc says so.” She hesitated at the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  In the kitchen, Mrs. Mac stood at the table cutting meat from the chicken carcass.

  Dora came up beside her. “Why thank you, Mrs. Mac.” She reached out for the knife. “Here, let me finish.”

  Mrs. Mac nodded and relinquished the knife. “I’m feeling a little better this afternoon.”

  Dora pulled Mrs. Mac’s arm through her own, leading her gently to a chair. “I’m glad.”

  “I think I’ll get stronger with the warmer weather.” She leaned heavily on the table as she sat down.

  Dora poured tea for her and waited until she grasped the cup and took a sip before she turned back to the counter. She finished the deboning then peeled potatoes and carrots for a stew for Doc and Mrs. Mac. Straining some broth for Josh’s supper, she set aside the remainder and some diced meat. Doc would probably order soft food tomorrow. She would prepare some chicken noodle soup.

  As she diced potatoes into the stew, Mrs. Mac asked, “How is your patient this afternoon?”

  Dora glanced up and smiled. “He’s on the mend, but I think he finds being bedridden difficult.” She shook her head. “But he must remain still if he wants that gash in his side to heal.”

  “Aye, this being idle is not a task to be envied.”

  Dora dropped the knife and hurried to the older lady’s side, bending over to hug her. “Oh Mrs. Mac, you’re not idle. You do what you can, and that’s all any of us can do.”

  Mrs. Mac patted Dora’s hands and leaned against her shoulder. “Thank you, dearie.
You’re such a sweet lass. Makes me ashamed of me grumbling.”

  Before Dora could think of how to respond, Mrs. Mac tipped her face up and flashed blue eyes at her. “My dear, Ian says that your patient is a curly-headed young man handsome enough to melt any woman’s heart.”

  Dora laughed. “Now don’t you go getting any ideas. He’s much too young for you. Besides, what would Doc say?”

  Mrs. Mac smacked Dora’s hands gently. “Ach, ‘tis for you I’m thinking of him. And don’t you go pretending you haven’t noticed.”

  Dora grinned as she returned to dicing the vegetables. “Noticed what? That the edges of the abdominal wound are less reddened? The bruises on his face already fading? And the poor man is starving as we talk.” She covered the stew and prepared a tray for the sickroom.

  “Aye, that of course.” Mrs. Mac turned so she could watch Dora’s reactions. “And a whole lot more.”

  “The dumplings are ready to drop in. Wait about fifteen minutes,” she called over her shoulder as she left the room balancing the tray.

  Mrs. Mac called, “You got eyes in your head, girl. I know you do.” The door clicked, shutting out anything more the older woman would have added.

  Dora’s grin faded. Certainly she’d noticed some of Josh’s more appealing features. But she was no fool. She’d not be letting pretty curls or a handsome face cause her to make choices she’d regret.

  Outside the sickroom, she paused to take a deep breath before she shoved open the door.

  “That took a while.”

  She nodded. “I made stew for Doc and his wife.”

  “Stew?” He perked up.

  “And broth for you.”

  He groaned.

  She pushed another pillow behind him and straightened the covers before setting a bed table across his chest to hold the tray.

  He sniffed. “At least it smells like food.” And he leaned forward eagerly as she fed him. He had just drained his cup of tea when Doc entered the room. Dora hurried to get a fresh dressing.

  Doc lifted the bandage on Josh’s forehead first. “Very good,” he murmured then turned his attention to the lower wound. “Your injuries are healing well, young man.”