Mack's Care (Grooms With Honor Book 4), Page 5

  "I do have two bits of advice for you though."

  "What's that?" Pansy leaned forward in her saddle.

  "One. Always carry candy for the children, and old men. You'll make friends right away and they won't be afraid to talk to you again."

  Pansy waited as Hilda nodded toward the men.

  "Two. Mack Reagan is a good man. He'll be a good friend and champion to your cause. You may think you can't marry because of your chosen profession, but don't close that door. I can tell, Mack Reagan already has eyes for you."

  Pansy blushed at Hilda's words. They were almost up to the men. Had Mack heard Hilda’s advice?

  "What do you think of the horse, Doctor Walline?" Noah asked as he tried to grab Nutcracker's bridle. The gelding tossed his head, snorted, and stepped back.

  "I’ll take him, Pa," the littlest daughter, probably under four years old walked under the horse's head, lifting high to touch the horse's nose. Nutcracker dropped his head so that the girl could touch his face. Hilda swung out of the saddle and gave the reins to her daughter, who walked to the barn, the horse slowly trailing behind the girl.

  Noah shook his head as his daughter and the horse walked away. "All these years I've only ridden that horse once, and that was because Hilda was in trouble and Nutcracker took me back to her."

  "Loyal horse," Pansy said as she watched one of the older girls unhook the cinch and pull the saddle and blanket off the horse. The saddle crashed to the ground, but Nutcracker didn't flinch. Then the horse lowered his head and let the little girl crawl up his neck, tugging on to his mane and digging in her bare feet to maneuver up to sit on his bare back.

  Hilda watched, looking proud of her daughters and her horse.

  "Nutcracker has been the best ride—and babysitter—I could have ever asked for. Just like Oats could be for you."

  "He was a nice horse, but—"

  "Take Oats back to town with you this week and ride him whenever you can. Mack, is there room for another horse in your folk's corral behind the parsonage?"

  "Yes, ma’am. I'll do anything for the good doctor," Mack grinned, "even personally see to her horse for her."

  Hilda, glanced at Pansy, to Mack, and then back to Pansy, trying to keep from smiling.

  "Good to hear that, Mack. I'm sure Doctor Walline will appreciate your help," Hilda said.

  "Coffee's ready. Let's go in the house," Noah interrupted. "I'm sure Mack plans to have Doctor Walline back in town before sunset."

  Chapter 7

  Mack quickly turned away from the street when he saw the door of Pansy's office open. He and Jasper were currently framing the new building across the street from Pansy's office and apartment. It was the perfect place to spy on the beautiful woman and get a little work done at the same time.

  "Just ask the woman if you can court her, Mack. I'm getting tired of you spending all day gawking at her," Jasper grumbled as he tapped the two-by-four board against Mack's back.

  Mack grabbed the other end of the board and tugged at it.

  "Easy for you to suggest, Jasper, but the doctor won't give me the time of day," Mack argued as well as he could with about five nails held between his teeth.

  "She sees you every time you happen to whack your thumb or attempt to saw off your leg," Jasper held up his hand when Mack started to protest. "For a man so proficient at handling tools and constructing buildings, you've sure had a lot of 'accidents' since Doc Walline moved to town."

  Mack couldn't argue with that. His visits to the doctor had been for cuts he normally wouldn't have stopped to wipe the blood off, let alone stop work to see a doctor for. And Mack had more accidents because his mind was thinking of her instead of paying attention to what he was doing.

  The day before, he’d hit his thumb so hard with the hammer it was still throbbing. His father kidded him when Mack showed up at the supper table last night with a swollen purple thumb.

  "Smash your thumb so the good doctor will kiss it and make it better?"

  His mother gave his father "the stare" to warn him not to say anymore, but then tried to hide her smile behind a fake cough.

  Mack knew he was as bad as a love-sick pup. He spent all day watching and thinking about Pansy, and spent his night dreaming about her. How in the world did the woman affect him like that?

  Mack had escorted women to events since he was old enough to shave. He always felt at ease talking to any woman, enjoying their company. And most women had no qualms accepting his offers of an escort, knowing they'd have a good time with him and maybe get a peck on their cheek when he returned them home.

  He made a point of never asking anyone who wanted to settle down though. Mack liked his carefree lifestyle. Or rather, he used to like it until he saw Pansy and she had turned his thinking upside down.

  Mack had immediately been attracted to her stature and beauty from the first time he saw her, but his feelings for her had grown since then. She was smart, compassionate and he knew they’d get along, no matter what was thrown in their paths.

  Now Mack wanted to marry the doctor and she wouldn't give him the time of day, unless he were really bleeding bad.

  He should never have ordered her down off her horse and kissed her out on their Sunday ride. That wasn't his nature, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Pansy thinking she was undesirable in any way. Especially not when he was going crazy with feelings for her.

  It had been a cold ride home from the Wilerson Ranch that day. Icy temperatures had emitted off the doctor, despite the heat of the afternoon. He’d apologized that Sunday evening and every day since but it didn’t seem to help.

  "If she's the one you want for your wife, you shape up and do as she wants," Jasper advised him as he drove the nail into his end of the board.

  Mack paused a moment to look at Jasper before adjusting his end of the board, taking a nail from his mouth, and hammering the nail in place to hold up the board.

  Jasper Kerns probably knew what he was talking about because he'd been married before, until a wagon accident killed his wife and young son. Jasper had grieved hard before deciding to move on with his life by finding his little sister, whom he'd been separated from because of a slave auction.

  Jasper's sister turned out to be Iris Reagan, Mack's sister-in-law, so Jasper settled in Clear Creek to be near her. Jasper's carpentry skills, learned while re-building New Orleans after the War, made Jasper a knowledgeable worker. Mack valued his thoughts as much as his work skills.

  "So, what's your advice, since you're itching to give it," Mack asked as they lifted another board in place.

  "For now, treat her like a doctor, not a woman. She's trying hard for people to accept her, and you know that's extra hard for a woman doctor."

  "I'm giving her business," Mack argued.

  "And about her only business, too. Doc Walline has visited every house in town and half the countryside the past two weeks and still sits in her office twiddling her thumbs most days."

  "And how do you know that without spying on her?"

  "Besides standing on buildings and seeing a birds-eye view of the town, I hear talk."

  "What kind of talk?" Mack asked.

  Jasper looked at Mack sideways, then shook his head rather than answer.

  "What are they saying about Pansy?" Mack hissed, ready to take on anyone who spoke badly of her.

  "Except for Dan Clancy, no other man has gone to Doc Walline with an ailment. They're all going to Frank Tolbert instead."

  "Why would they go to the barber? He brags about how he can pull a tooth, but now we have a real doctor in town."

  "But she's a—"

  "A woman." Mack and Jasper whirled around, not realizing Pansy was standing behind them, listening in on their conversation. Criminy. How much had she heard of their conversation?

  "And a good doctor," Mack said in an attempt to unruffle her feathers. She did not look amused with his hasty remark. In fact, her set mouth and narrowed eyes made her look downright furious.

&
nbsp; "I've had just about enough of the men in this town. They'd rather bleed to death or let their children die instead of letting me help." The volume of each word rose with her frustration.

  "I'm sorry, Pansy," Mack said, stepping toward her.

  "I'm Doctor Walline! Why can't anybody accept that?"

  Jasper held out his hand and slightly bowed to console her. "Yes, ma'am you're a doctor and I'm sure a fine one. I wish you would have been in Louisiana when my missus and son needed help. They might be alive today if a doctor would have treated them."

  Pansy's shoulders softened as did her voice. "I'm so sorry for your loss. Wasn't there a doctor in your area?"

  "There was a doctor, but he only treated white folk," Jasper said softly.

  "I’m so sorry,” Pansy said. “Well, I will help whoever needs it."

  Mack was glad Jasper had spoken up, even though it hurt the man to speak of his past. Jasper's words had given Pansy the boost she needed.

  "Can we help you with anything, Doctor Walline?" Mack asked since she was still standing in their work-in-progress.

  "Oh, I was going to tell you I'm taking Oats out for a run...since I seem to have the afternoon free, again. I thought I could deliver mail to the families who don't get to town very often."

  "Your horse will appreciate your attention and the families will appreciate your help," Mack added before turning back to the wall they were building.

  "We'll watch for your safe return," Jasper added, speaking what Mack was thinking. Mack would be sure Oats was back in the family corral by nightfall, or he'd be out looking for her.

  ***

  Pansy relaxed as Oats slowed down to a walk. Getting out of town and enjoying a ride eased her troubled mind. The day was hot, but it felt good to be out in the open. When they were about a mile away from town, Pansy gave Oats a nudge with her knees and he was off, stretching his legs into a gallop across the prairie.

  Pansy pulled Oats’s reins back to slow the horse down to a walk. She listened to the horse walk through the knee-high grass which blanketed the prairie that time of year. His steady walk and blowing breath relaxed her mind, but it didn't help her situation.

  "This hasn’t turned out as I envisioned when I agreed to be the area doctor, Oats. How can I make things better?" No work meant no income or food in trade of service. "I guess that's one way to lose the extra padding on my hips."

  And her employment in Clear Creek had become more precarious, according to Mr. Taylor’s visit after a secret town council meeting that was held the night before last.

  The town council had changed Pansy's contract to a three-month trial period, instead of the original five-year agreement. They couldn’t kick her out of town if she chose to stay, but she wouldn't have the use of the office or apartment any longer.

  Pansy wouldn't be surprised if the council had already advertised for a new doctor, sure she would be leaving soon.

  "What are my choices, Oats?" She'd always done her best thinking on horseback growing up, so that was the reason she was out riding today. No one would be pounding on her office door in town needing assistance anyway.

  Pansy's first thought was to go home to Wyoming, but she hadn’t had a "home" there in years. The area was sparser than this frontier area, so she'd have less work and farther to travel between ranches.

  Should she move back to Boston, or another northeastern town? Pansy shivered at the thought, thinking of the crowded conditions of Boston. A smaller village would be better, if she could find a town needing a doctor.

  Pansy turned Oats down a trail through the grass to a crude homestead Mack had pointed out on their ride two weeks ago. There was only a wooden shack and lean-to open shelter for the livestock in the cleared area of the homestead.

  The postmaster had balked about giving Pansy people’s mail to deliver, but then changed his mind as he sorted it.

  "Since you'll be going past Richard Kandt's place, can you give him this letter? You'll have to read it to him since he can't read himself," Cullen had said.

  Pansy scanned the area, wondering if the man was outside or inside one of the buildings. Mr. Kandt didn’t attend church, so she hadn’t met him yet.

  “Hello the house!” Pansy called out to warn the man he had a visitor.

  Oats stood still, listening for the man as she did.

  “What you want?” A voice with a thick German accent called from the shack. The door was partially open, but the man wasn’t standing in the doorway. The tip of a rifle was visible though.

  “I’m Doctor Walline. The new doctor in Clear Creek. I was making my rounds and Cullen Reagan asked that I deliver a letter to you.”

  The door jerked open and a bearded man, about thirty years old stepped out.

  “You got a letter for me?” He looked stunned at the prospect. “Who’s it from?”

  Good thing Cullen had warned her the man couldn’t read.

  “The return address says it’s from Bloomington, Illinois, and across the bottom it says, ‘in response to your Matrimonial News advertisement’.”

  The man rushed to her side, reaching for the letter. Luckily Oats was aware of the man but held his ground.

  “Oh gosh! I got a response!” Mr. Kandt stared at the front of the envelope and then ran his fingers over the lettering, as if wondering if it were real.

  “Are you looking for a wife, Mr. Kandt?”

  The man looked her over, as if sizing her up to see if she were an available candidate. The look on his face told her he didn’t think she’d make a good wife for anyone.

  “Yes, I placed an ad for a mail-order bride through this advertisement.”

  “I hope you find good news in the letter then. Nice to meet you, sir. Please remember I’m in town if you have a medical emergency.”

  Pansy turned Oats to leave, but the man grabbed Oats’ bridle to stop the horse.

  “Wait! I, uh…” Mr. Kandt’s face was beet red but he wouldn’t say what he needed. Maybe if she offered to help, he’d remember it in the future.

  “Would you like for me to read the letter to you? It would satisfy my curiosity of who your future bride might be.”

  Mr. Kandt nodded, but didn’t ask her to dismount and come into his home. Oh well, she didn’t want to be alone with the man in his house anyway.

  Pansy held out her hand, waiting for him to hand the letter over to her. Once he did, she slid a fingernail under the envelope flap to unseal the envelope and pull out the pages. The faint scent of rose petals drifted to her nose.

  Pansy liked the scent and knew the man would too. “Here’s what the letter says,” Pansy said as she scanned to short note.

  “Bloomington, Illinois

  “Dear Mr. Kandt,

  “I read your advertisement in the Matrimonial News that you were looking for a ranch wife. If you haven’t found a spouse yet, I’d like to correspond with you on the matter.

  “Although I didn’t grow up on a ranch or farm, I think I would enjoy living in a rural setting. I’m twenty-three years of age. I have a petite frame with brown hair and hazel eyes.

  “If you’re interested in corresponding, please write back to me about yourself and your ranch. Please include a photograph of yourself, if possible.

  “Sincerely,

  “Miss Rose Leander.”

  Pansy folded the letter, slid it back into the envelope and handed it to Mr. Kandt.

  “Thanks,” was all he said as he looked around his homestead. Pansy wondered how he’d describe his ranch and living conditions to the woman. It was crude with only the barest of necessities at this point.

  “Do you need someone to write back to the woman for you?” Pansy offered.

  “Uh, I don’t know what I want to say yet. And I don’t have writing paper here.”

  Pansy nodded, realizing he wasn’t sure what his next step was. “I’m usually in my office in town, so if you want help writing a letter—"

  “No thanks,” he blurted out, wiping a hand down his jaw,
showing his indecision. Then he turned on his heel and marched back to his shack without another word.

  Heaven help the woman who agreed to become his wife. She was in for a shock when meeting the man and his homestead.

  Pansy turned Oats to travel back down the trail to the road, her mail delivery complete but her mind still unsettled.

  What was she going to do if no one asked for her doctor’s services?

  Chapter 8

  "There she is! About time."

  "Trust her not to be around when someone needs a doctor."

  Mack rushed to Oats and grabbed his bridle when Pansy stopped the horse in front of her office.

  "What's going on?" Pansy asked, looking confused at the group of people milling on the boardwalk between the barbershop and her office.

  "Burdette Jenkins broke her leg falling off the school’s outhouse roof. Bone's poked through the skin."

  "Oh, the poor girl. Bring her into the office while I prepare a splint." Pansy swung out of the saddle and rushed to her office door before Mack could stop her. "Why's the window in the office door broken?" Pansy turned to the crowd standing around.

  "You weren't there so Tolbert broke in to get the bone saw," one of the onlookers explained.

  Pansy's eyes flared with alarm. "Why did he need my equipment?"

  The man shrugged. "Girl's leg got to be sawed off."

  "What? Absolutely not," Pansy screamed as she pushed through the people to get to the barbershop.

  She had to get to the girl before the stupid barber maimed the child for life.

  "Stop Tolbert! Don't let him touch that girl," Pansy yelled at the top of her lungs as she battled the crowd in the barbershop's doorway.

  Pansy gasped when she saw Tolbert holding the saw over the young girl's thigh. Three men were holding her down on the table as the child struggled and screamed with all her might.

  "Don't you dare even make a scratch. Put that saw down right now!" Pansy commanded as she pushed the men aside. Is was one of those times her weight and strength came in handy.

  "Thank goodness you're here, Doctor Walline. He was going to cut off Burdette's leg," Mary Jenkins cried behind her.