Miller mused out loud. “I don’t think any will match the amount that my Maggie made.”
Nelson chuckled. “Probably not. I can’t see any of these landing in jail.”
Miller’s wife had arrived on the first bride train, along with her sister, Mary. At the time, Nelson had had issues with the tonic Maggie tried to pass off as a remedy for just about every conceivable ailment. A family recipe, she’d said. Since then, the reticence she once carried toward him had begun to ease. A good thing because Miller’s Cabinetry Shop stood near his office and they crossed paths often.
“I don’t see you rushing in with the rest,” Miller said. “No one strikes your fancy?”
Nelson surveyed the women once more. “Five does.”
Miller’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Five? As in number five? Better not let the lady hear you call her that.”
“Miss Weber. I think she’ll do just fine.”
“Do?”
Nelson nodded but didn’t elaborate on his thoughts. She was young and strong. She was also quiet. He liked that. If she took instruction well, he could train her precisely how he wanted things done.
The clear bell tones of a woman laughing sounded. Number One drew his gaze. She was a stunning woman. There was a reason he didn’t want a beautiful woman, but at that moment it escaped him.
Beside him, Jackson took a long swallow of beer.
“On second thought,” Nelson said, “I think I’ll start with Miss Vandersohn and go through them one at a time.”
Jackson spit out his mouthful of brew. “You’re serious!”
“Yep. That’s how I’ll do it. Steady and methodical.”
A slow grin grew on Jackson’s face. “I’d try to warn you off such a crazy plan where women are concerned, but I don’t think it would do any good. Take it from me. You don’t stand a chance if the right one comes along.”
“We’ll see who is right when the time comes.”
“Sure, Doc,” Jackson said, shaking his head as he walked away.
A sense of purpose filled Nelson. By the end of the month, per their contract, the women would have to marry. He had four weeks to get this part of his life in order. He would call on Miss Vandersohn first thing in the morning and start things moving forward. A stroll perhaps to show her the sights of the town.
His decision made, he spun on his heels and headed out the door, leaving the gaiety and the noise behind him.
Sylvia was no good at waiting. When she drove her wagon into town just after dusk, she had expected Doc Graham to be home. She hadn’t a clue how she was going to convince him to travel all the way to her place. She had nothing to pay him with for his services. All she knew was that she was scared for Tommy and with each minute her desperation was growing bigger and bigger. It might end up choking her if the doc didn’t show up soon.
She paced the length of his walkway a few times, her arms crossed over her chest. Then she sat down on his steps. For all of one minute. Then she was up pacing again.
On her way to town, she’d come face-to-face with the fact that a man who wore a silk vest, a man who had an office, was not likely to come over to her side of the river to see her son. He’d expect payment, which she didn’t have. He’d probably expect her to bring her boy to him—and she wasn’t going to move Tommy. She might hurt him worse.
At least she was sure this was the doc’s house. A brass sign on the porch said Doctor’s Office plain as could be. She’d checked three other houses, peeking in the darkened windows, before she was sure she had the right house. There was some big hullabaloo happening down in the new building next to the bank. Maybe that was where everyone was. Maybe she should check down there.
She hated to walk right in on the entire town. Her whole life she’d made it a point to avoid as much of the people here as she could.
But what if he never came back tonight? What if he was out on a call? Maybe somebody was having a baby. Or somebody was sick. The thoughts plagued her.
Maybe she should have asked Carl for help... She recoiled at that when she remembered how he had treated Tommy at the mercantile. No... Carl would have made things worse. She’d done the only thing she could and that was to leave Tommy by himself. Doing that weighed on her something fierce. He was too hurt to wander off. The way he had whimpered once, like a kicked puppy, just crumpled her insides. He needed the doc. She couldn’t go back without him.
A shout came from somewhere on the main street. Then a door squeaked open and shut on one of the buildings—maybe the hotel. A dog barked.
Someone was coming.
She tiptoed up the porch steps and pulled into the shadows.
It was a man. His long strides gave that away. The silver clasp at his neck gleamed in the small amount of light left. The doc had worn the same tie in the mercantile.
Her heart pounded. She swallowed, nervous. What could she possibly offer him by way of bartering? What would he accept?
Now he was on the steps. He stood taller than she remembered. She hesitated. Maybe this was a fool idea. There was no way she could force him to go with her if he had a mind not to.
As he crossed in front of her, she caught a whiff of that fancy-smelling lotion he used. He reached for the door handle...
She gathered her courage. Tommy was worth it. Tommy was worth everything. “How much do you charge for a doctor visit?”
He froze at the sound of her voice.
“Would you take a chicken in payment?”
“I hate chicken,” he said evenly in his deep voice.
Her gut tightened. What to do? What to do?
Then he started to twist around.
“Stay as you are!” She panicked, fumbled with her satchel and withdrew her pistol. She shoved it against his lower back. “I got me a gun here, don’t you know.”
It was her nerves talking. She was making a muddle of everything.
“I dislike being accosted at gunpoint.”
She would have laughed at the absurd statement had her skin not been crawling in her nervousness. Instead, she scowled. “Most people do, but you’re mighty calm for bein’ in such a condition.”
“Believe me. I am not calm at all. I simply can’t see any value in making the situation worse.”
“Well...that’s a good thing. Now. Enough talk. You got to come with me.”
“What is this about? I assume someone is hurt or sick.”
How
