The Doctor Takes a Wife

Chapter Three

The lead fiddler announced the last dance of the night, a waltz. After this, Milly and Nick would go to the hotel for the night, and the guests would all disperse to their homes.

By this time, Sarah’s nerves were raw, expecting at the beginning of every dance that Dr. Walker would come to claim her, but so far he hadn’t. She had not lacked for partners, for someone else always asked her, but dancing with others did not mean she avoided him. Every dance but the waltz meant being passed to other dancers for at least a few seconds. Still, Dr. Walker had seemed intent on charming every woman in town except her.

Once, he had even managed to get Mrs. Detwiler up on the floor, and the older lady had clearly enjoyed it, though she was red faced and out of breath by the end of it. Sarah saw him fetching her punch while she sat and fanned herself. Sarah wouldn’t have minded spending some time in a chair herself, being fetched a cool drink, for her feet were aching from all the dancing and her hair had long since fallen from its elegant knot.

Now, though, she felt a kinship with the gazelle Nick had mentioned earlier as she saw Dr. Walker crossing the floor toward her.

“My dance, I believe?”

“Are you sure you’ve danced with every other female in town, from the oldest to the youngest?” Sarah asked archly.

He raised a brow, and in that moment she knew she’d made a mistake.

“Ah, so you were watching,” he said, grinning.

“I most certainly was not,” Sarah insisted. “I never sat down myself, except when the musicians took a break. I only just realized that you hadn’t made good your threat to claim a dance.”

“Threat?” he echoed. “I believe I only requested a dance, as proof of your goodwill. And I was waiting for a waltz, Miss Matthews.”

“Oh? Why?” she asked. Was this girl asking the daring questions really herself?

Again, the raised brow. “If you have to ask that, Miss Sarah Matthews, then it’s no wonder the South lost the war.”

She felt herself flushing so hotly that it took all her strength of will not to open the fan that dangled from her wrist and start using it. “If we stand here arguing all through the dance, Dr. Walker, we will miss it altogether.”

The couples had just arranged themselves on the floor, and the fiddlers had struck only the first notes, but he took her hand without another word and led her onto the floor. In a moment they were gliding over the floor with the rest of the dancers.

Sarah saw Milly, waltzing with Nick, watching her, her smile even brighter than before because her sister was dancing with the Yankee doctor. Good for you, Milly mouthed. She probably thought Sarah and Dr. Walker had agreed to bury the hatchet. Sarah smiled back, not wanting Milly to worry that she’d only agreed to postpone the battle, not call it off.

She found to her surprise Nolan Walker was an excellent dancer, better even than the Brookfield brothers, who had probably been taught to waltz in their English nursery. His steps were so smooth he made it easy to follow him, so she was never in any danger of treading on his toes.

“Thank you, Miss Matthews,” he said when the last notes died away and the other couples drifted off the floor. “I enjoyed that very much.”

She couldn’t say she’d enjoyed it as well; she’d been too conscious of his nearness and his gaze trained on her the whole time. “You’re welcome, Dr. Walker. You…you’re an accomplished dancer,” she said, determined to give credit where it was due.

“Surprised?” he asked. “I assure you, Miss Matthews, we Yankees do not all live in caves, coming out only to devour raw fish.”

Before she could catch it, her mouth fell open at his gibe. “Are you making fun of me, sir?”

He grinned. “Not at all. I was only teasing you, my thorny Southern rose.”

How could one man be so infuriating? “I’m not ‘your’ anything, Dr. Walker. And now that you’ve had your dance with me, you must excuse me while I go see if my sister needs any help before she leaves.”

“Very well, but don’t forget about that talk we’re going to have.”

His blue eyes dared her to claim she didn’t remember what he was talking about, but Sarah was not a dishonest person and she remembered all too well that he’d demanded she tell him sometime why she was so hostile to him.

“Oh, I won’t. I’ll look forward to it,” she said.

He bowed, but Sarah felt his gaze on her as she walked away.

The next morning, Sarah met Nick’s visiting brothers outside the church. The newlyweds were not with them, but Sarah hadn’t really expected them to be up this early. They were to meet after church in the hotel’s restaurant for Sunday dinner. After that, the newlyweds would depart for Austin in a specially hired coach, accompanied by Edward and Richard, who would pay their respects to the embassy branch in the Texas capital before journeying back to the coast and boarding a ship for home.

“A pity my wife’s so near her time,” Lord Greyshaw remarked as they walked up the steps that led into the church. “She’d have loved your Texas, Sarah.” Amelia, Viscountess Greyshaw, was only a couple months from delivering their second child. It had been felt the ocean voyage and overland travel would be too risky for her, and Richard’s wife, Gwenneth, had remained at Greyshaw to keep her company in their husbands’ absence and to watch over Violet, their younger sister.

“Yes, such mild weather, for late autumn, to be sure,” Richard agreed, looking up appreciatively at the blue sky. “At home we’d be gathered around the hearth complaining of the dank cold.”

“Oh, it’ll get colder closer to Christmas,” Sarah replied. “Every few winters, it actually snows. You gentlemen must come again and bring your wives and children.”

“Eddie’s already taken me to task for not bringing him,” Lord Edward said, grinning as he mentioned his son. “He’d like to meet a wild Indian. Oh, dear,” he murmured, seeing the shudder Sarah hadn’t been able to suppress. “I do apologize. I had forgotten all about the attack. How dreadfully clumsy of me.”

“That’s all right,” Sarah said, gazing behind the church where, on Founder’s Day, the Comanches had come galloping across the creek and into the town. “Hopefully, now that we have the fort, it won’t happen again. There’s a cavalry regiment that patrols the area regularly and in any case, the Comanches are in their winter quarters now, up on the Llano Estacado, the Staked Plains. We’d better go in, gentlemen,” Sarah said, as the bell began to toll from the steeple above them. She played the piano for the services every Sunday and knew Reverend Chadwick would be waiting on her to begin the service.

She was relieved to see that once more, Dr. Nolan Walker did not grace a pew. She had never seen him attending services since his arrival in Simpson Creek. He must be an unbeliever. Just one more reason not to be friendly to him.

Sarah would have been surprised to know that Dr. Walker was seeing a patient in his office at this very hour.

“Th-thank you for seeing me at this time, Doctor,” said the pale, mousy little woman who’d entered his waiting room. “I—I wouldn’t want to come when you had other patients coming and going….”

She’d knocked so softly at his door he almost hadn’t heard her from his quarters behind the office. He had only just arisen from bed, the tolling of the church bell having awakened him from the sleep he’d finally achieved at dawn.

“And why is that, Miss Spencer? Surely you have a right to consult a physician as much as anyone else in Simpson Creek.”

“I…I don’t want anyone to know I’m seeing a doctor,” she whispered, eyes downcast. “They might wonder why. I—I’m expecting a child, you see.”

He looked at her quickly. If Miss Ada Spencer was pregnant, it was not obvious, as yet. But that explained the reason for the furtive visit, if it was true.

“Are you certain? That you’re…ah, with child?” he said, wondering for the thousandth time why women in this day and age spoke of it in hushed tones or euphemisms and couldn’t use the correct term for something which was, after all, a natural thing and should be a happy event—unless, of course, a woman was unmarried.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she insisted, and told him all the symptoms she had been having.

“I’ll need to examine you,” he said. “Would you be more comfortable if there was another woman present? Would you like to come back when you can bring someone?”

Still looking down, she shook her head. “I haven’t told Ma,” she said. “She’d be ashamed of me. She’d want me to keep to home now that I’ve ‘disgraced’ myself. She’s in church now, so she doesn’t know I’m here.”

Was Mrs. Spencer a church-going hypocrite, praying for the heathen in Africa while oblivious to the trouble within her own house? He was familiar with the type, but he hadn’t met the woman so he shouldn’t assume that was the case. Did Ada Spencer have no friends, then? But perhaps she had no one with whom she was willing to trust her secret.

“I just want to make sure the baby’s healthy,” she murmured, glancing timidly up at him, then away again.

“Where is the father?” he asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.

“Dead,” Ada said, her tone as lifeless as the word. “He died when the Comanches attacked in October.”

“I see.” Simpson Creek had suffered half a dozen casualties that memorable day he’d arrived. And now there would be a child born who would never know his father because of it, and a woman who might be bowed down with shame the rest of her life. “I’m sorry.”

A tear trickled down Ada’s sallow face. “He wasn’t going to do right by me anyway,” she said. “He was leaving town that morning. It was his bad luck he happened to run into those savages.”

Nolan remembered the man who’d appeared at the church, tied onto his horse, who’d lived only long enough to give a few moments’ warning of the impending raid.

“And what do you plan to do, Miss Spencer? It’s none of my business, of course, but if you stay around town, people will eventually know that you’re with child. Have you considered relocating to another town—even another state, where you could say you were a widow?”

Again, she shook her head. “Ma and Pa are old. I’m the only one left at home to take care of them. They won’t turn me out, even once they know.”

But they won’t give her emotional support, either. He sighed, and wished he had a nurse he could call on to be present.

“Very well, let’s have a look,” he said, opening the door to his exam room and beckoning her inside.

Afterward, he waited for her at his desk in the adjoining room.

“If you’re expecting, it’s very early,” he said, after she came in and sat down. “At this stage, I can’t be certain. When did you…that is…” He stopped, aware of the awkwardness of his question and wishing he could just spit it out instead of having to dance delicately around the point. He’d been so much more comfortable around soldiers, saying what he meant without having to think about it so carefully.

“In September,” she said, thankfully sparing him having to come up with another euphemism. “It…it was only once or twice….”

Nolan Walker sighed. Obviously once or twice had been enough. It was useless to wish the dead man had behaved honorably and married the girl before leaving her with child and getting himself killed.

She wasn’t a bad-looking woman, he thought, though in her present depressed, shame-faced state it would be hard for a man to see her better qualities. How did one go about suggesting to a woman in this predicament that if she held her head high and was pleasant and charming, some good man might well come to accept her and the coming baby?

Ah, well. He was a physician, not a counselor or matchmaker. Perhaps he could persuade her to trust Reverend Chadwick with her secret. The minister seemed like a decent man who wouldn’t shame this poor woman still further, but could give her good advice. And perhaps in time, she would trust one of her friends enough to enlist another’s company at her appointments with him, if her mother wasn’t willing once she knew the truth. Ada Spencer belonged to that Spinsters’ Club, didn’t she? So she must have some acquaintances, at least. He’d feel a lot more comfortable when he needed to examine Miss Spencer if she brought another female with her.

“Very well, Miss Spencer,” he said. “If all goes well between now and sometime in the middle of June, I see no reason that you cannot deliver a strong healthy child. I’ll need to see you a few times before then, of course.”

“The middle of June? That’s when my baby will come?” A spark of joy lit the woman’s narrow face, and he marveled. Even while she risked disgrace, a woman could find joy in the thought of a coming baby.

“Based on what you told me about when the child was conceived, yes. Though babies, of course, have a mind of their own and can come earlier or later than when a physician predicts.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“You’re quite welcome, Miss Spencer.” He rose to indicate the appointment was over, and she moved quickly toward the door.

“Oh, and Miss Spencer,” he said, trying to make his request sound casual, “why don’t you bring a friend with you next time you come? I’m sure it would be wiser for the sake of your reputation.” And mine.

She looked back at him, then bolted out the door without another word.

Chapter Four

“My message,” Reverend Chadwick began, “is one I have felt compelled to preach today, the subject of forgiveness. Certainly this is a timely subject, in view of the recent national conflict that nearly tore our country in two forever. Maybe the Lord wanted me to speak on this because one person present is struggling to forgive another. But really, it doesn’t matter whether one person or twenty needs to hear it. I take my text from Matthew Chapter Eighteen, in which Peter is asking Jesus how many times he should forgive his brother.”

Sarah winced inwardly. Of all the subjects for the pastor to preach about! And just after she had been thinking that his failure to attend church served as an additional reason why Dr. Nolan Walker deserved neither her forgiveness nor her friendship…

Reverend Chadwick went on to describe how Jesus had decreed one should forgive seventy times seven. “Now, does the Lord mean we are only to forgive four hundred and ninety times? No, dear people, He means infinitely. If we don’t forgive, we aren’t forgiven—simple as that.”

Sarah shifted uncomfortably in the pew, hoping the elegant Lord Edward and his kindly brother Richard didn’t notice. The white-haired pastor seemed to be speaking straight to her, though he wasn’t looking in her direction.

“In fact,” Reverend Chadwick went on, “the Bible goes so far as to say if we take our gift to the altar, and discover we have something against our brother, we’re to go and make things right with him first.”

Very well, then. She had brought a tithe of her profits from her bakery sales to put in the collection plate, but she’d hold on to the coins until she’d had a chance to speak to Dr. Walker. That was the right thing to do. It wouldn’t be easy—much would depend on how he responded, but surely Pastor Chadwick’s choice of this topic meant that she was to forgive Nolan Walker for serving with the Union Army. She could pay him a visit this very afternoon, after she and the Brookfield brothers met with the Milly and Nick for dinner and she saw them all off to Austin. After all, she was already in town, and had left dinner on the stove for the cowhands, so she didn’t have to get back to the ranch soon.

She sighed, at peace with herself now, and admitted she was even looking forward to seeing the blue-eyed doctor and hearing him talk in that outlandish accent again. With some difficulty, she forced her attention back to the sermon.

“Time to go see the newlyweds,” Edward murmured, after they had shaken hands with Reverend Chadwick and had spoken with several members of the congregation.

“Yes. I think marriage will be good for Nicholas, especially marriage to your dear sister,” Richard told Sarah. “He’s made an excellent choice. Just think, Edward, now there’s only Violet for us to see safely married….”

“As she’s hardly out of the schoolroom, I hope that will be some time from now,” his brother said, but Sarah was no longer listening.

Instead of gazing down the main street of Simpson Creek to her right, toward the hotel where they would meet Nick and Milly for dinner, she had glanced to her left, where a low white picket fence surrounded the doctor’s office.

Just as she looked, the door opened. Perhaps Nolan had peered out, seen her emerge from the church and was coming to greet them? Perhaps she could say something to indicate she would like to talk to him later?

But instead of Nolan Walker, she saw a female figure emerge, glance furtively at the townspeople strolling away from church, then turn away and walk quickly down the alley that ran past the side of the doctor’s office. A dark bonnet hid her features as soon as the woman turned her head, but in those brief seconds when she had been facing toward the church, Sarah recognized Ada Spencer.

What is she doing there? Doctors don’t have office hours on Sunday mornings. Therefore she must have been there for a completely nonmedical purpose. Thinking about Ada’s secretive manner, Sarah was suddenly sure the two had been Up to No Good.

She thought back to the summer, when Ada had been giddy with excitement over being courted by that Englishman Harvey Blakely. Blakely had come to try to blackmail Nicholas about his past or, if he wouldn’t cooperate, to expose Nick’s disgrace in India, but after failing to discredit Nick, Harvey had been the first casualty on the day of the Comanche attack. Ada had been a virtual recluse ever since, and never came to the Spinsters’ Club meetings. When she thought about her, at all, Sarah had assumed Ada was still mourning her English beau, scoundrel that he had been. In the excitement of her sister’s wedding, Sarah had forgotten all about Ada.

Now, though, it seemed that Ada had set her cap at a new bachelor, and perhaps Nolan Walker was all too willing to meet with the vulnerable woman in his office at a time when they wouldn’t likely be interrupted by patients.

They probably hadn’t even remained in the office. Behind it was the doctor’s private living quarters— Sarah knew this from her long friendship with Maude Harkey, the late doctor’s daughter and also a member of the Spinsters’ Club who had shared those quarters with her father until his death in the Comanche attack. When Dr. Walker had taken over as town physician, he had been offered the space, and Maude had moved in with a married sister in town.

Sarah’s heart sank. Though she had been looking forward to clearing the air with Dr. Nolan Walker, and perhaps more, she knew now she had been right all along about him.

Dr. Walker was nothing but a Yankee opportunist—little short of a carpetbagger. And now, it seemed, he was a womanizer as well, and was engaged in an improper relationship with a woman who had already proven she was more than willing to go to any lengths to have a suitor.

Resolutely, Sarah turned her face away from the doctor’s office, and gazed directly ahead of her toward the hotel. She’d go straight home after her dinner with Milly and her new husband. She’d cook a fine supper for the cowhands and perhaps begin planning for her move to the cottage she would be sharing soon with Prissy.

It was a good thing she’d found out about Dr. Walker’s true character before she’d made a fool of herself. Perhaps she should warn the others in the Spinsters’ Club, she thought, firmly ignoring the ache in her heart.

The time had gone by quickly. Milly and Nick had arrived home December 23, and Sarah welcomed them back with a wonderful supper.

“Oh, Sarah, why don’t you stay till after New Year’s?” Milly said the morning after Christmas. “It doesn’t seem right, your moving out right now. Why not stay till then?”

“It was a wonderful Christmas, wasn’t it?” Sarah said. “Your first one as husband and wife,” she said, smiling at the couple across the table. “But Milly, I can’t keep putting it off. Today’s the perfect day. Bobby and Isaiah are already set to load up the buckboard right after breakfast, aren’t you?”

Down the table, the two cowhands nodded.

Sarah looked forward to sharing the cottage with Prissy, for her lively and vivacious friend knew no strangers. It would be fun teaching Prissy how to cook and manage a household. And what would it be like, not having to cook three square meals a day for hungry cowboys, and hitch up the horse whenever she had baked goods to deliver?

An hour later, all was in readiness for her departure.

“Now remember, you—”

“Can always come back,” Sarah finished for Milly, from her perch on the driver’s seat of the wagon loaded with her bed and chest of drawers, as well as a pair of chairs Milly said she could spare. “I know. And perhaps I will, after I teach Prissy a few basic kitchen and housekeeping skills.”