Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2) (33 page)

“Randall,” I said. My voice roared in the small space. He looked up just as his boot connected with her ribs and she grunted. She didn’t respond otherwise, clearly unconscious. “Get the hell away from her.”

I crossed the room in two steps and grabbed a handful of his coat and shirt, then pounded my fist into his face over and over. My vision had gone red around the edges, and my head throbbed, I was so furious. When the beating went from rage to satisfying, I came back to myself. Randall lolled in my grasp, his face a bloody broken mess.

I threw him to the ground. “It’s less than you deserve, you piece of shit.”

Turning my back on him, I rushed to Lydia’s side, rolling her carefully to her back. A quiet moan escaped her lips, but she didn’t open her eyes.

She’d certainly taken a beating. Her right eye had swollen shut, the cheek puffy beneath it. Her bottom lip was split and bleeding. Her hair had half pulled from the updo and was a tangled mess around her head. I examined both her arms, using my fingers to push and prod, looking for breaks in her arms, wrists, or hands. Thankfully, I found none, though there were plenty of soft tissue injuries—bruises in the shape of Randall’s fingers. If I weren’t more concerned for Lydia’s injuries, I’d go back to beating on Randall for inflicting this pain on her.

I took a deep breath and tried to focus on Lydia. Moving my fingers to her torso, I felt each rib and found at least two broken, and if he’d kicked her more than once, there were likely some cracked, too. Her chest would be blooming with bruises. A growl rumbled in my chest against my will.

“Will I need to put you on a leash?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.

I hadn’t even noticed her open her eyes, I was so busy cataloging her injuries.

“Lydia? Oh, sweetness, I’m so glad to see you,” I said, kissing her non-bruised cheek.

“I’m glad to see you too.” She groaned and wiggled her jaw back and forth. “Hurts to talk.”

I inspected her jaw and didn’t perceive any obvious breaks, but I suspected every part of her body would hurt for weeks to come as she healed.

“We need to get you to the hospital. I can take better care of you there.”

“Look at you being a doctor.” Her eyes sparkled with humor.

“For you, anything.”

I leaned down to kiss her cheek again, but she gasped and her good eye flew wide. She screamed and I threw myself over her to protect her.

Something big and hard came down on my back and pain exploded everywhere. Before he could hit me again, I jumped to my feet and turned to face him.

Randall looked like a bloodied demon from hell. His face was cut and bruised, but his eyes glittered like obsidian, and his lips pulled back, baring his teeth like a rabid dog. He had a huge Bible in his hands, ready to strike me with it again.

“It’s over, Randall. Put the Bible down and back away.”

Instead he roared and swung it at me. I threw my hands up to block it, turning to protect my face. When I did, I saw the fireplace poker on the hearth. I squatted and swiped it, bringing it up and swinging it like a club.

It connected with his shoulder, a clumsy strike, but it caught him by surprise and made him stumble back a couple of steps.

Lydia scooted behind a chair and curled as best she could out of the way. I got a better grip on the poker. If I weren’t so intent on the fight, I’d laugh at how ridiculous we must look—me wielding the poker like a sword, and Randall using the Bible as a shield.

“You can’t win. Put the damn thing down,” I said.

“Never.”

He hefted it over his head and lunged at me, but before he could bring it down on my head, I stabbed him in the gut with the poker. It went in a lot easier than I thought it would, but wasn’t nearly as satisfying. In fact, I gagged when a wet gurgle bubbled up his throat.

I let go of the poker and he fell flat on his back with a resounding thud, right at Mrs. Jackson’s feet.

She screamed and her hands fluttered like a flock of birds disturbed from a tree.

“Is he…?”

My legs lost their strength and collapsed from under me. I sank to my knees, breathing deep, all the horrors from the war rushing back at me at once—ragged holes torn into soft bodies, broken corpses, piles of sawed-off limbs stacked outside the tent rotting in the hot sun. I fell onto my hands, hanging my head, dry heaving next to Randall’s boots.

Then a soft touch on my back, like a cool spring rain, washed the pain away.

“It’s okay, Emmett.”

Lydia leaned into me, hugging me from behind. I basked in her warmth.

“I thought I wanted to kill him,” I said. “I couldn’t stand the way he treated you. I had no idea he’d hit you. I’m so sorry I left you alone with him.”

“I didn’t know he’d do it, either.” Her words were husky with emotion. “But I’m not sad he’s dead. He killed Mother, you know. He admitted it.”

“Killing him was…” I couldn’t find the right words. “I’m not a killer.”

“I know, darling. You’re a healer.”

She caressed my hair like a mother would a child who’d had a nightmare. It was deeply comforting, and then I remembered the things Randall had threatened me with.

“Whatever Randall told you about me is…”

“…a lie, I know.”

I squeezed my eyes tight and swallowed hard, but I had to face it. She had to know. I shifted so I sat on the floor beside her. “He may have twisted the story, but I didn’t lie to you when I told you the woman would have died anyway. She would have.”

Lydia looked to the door. “Mrs. Jackson, would you please go fetch the sheriff?”

I’d completely forgotten about her. She nodded mutely, still staring at Randall’s body prostrate on the carpet, then turned and left.

Lydia returned her attention to me. “There was a baby, too?”

I nodded. “She’d been in labor for days. The baby wasn’t coming, and she was exhausted. She couldn’t push anymore. They were both bound to die if she couldn’t deliver it. Her husband begged me to do something. Anything. I’d read about doctors trying to deliver babies surgically, so I tried even though I knew there was nothing I could do to save them. I did it to appease her husband, to make him feel like I’d done all I could.”

“Randall said you were drunk.”

“I was,” I said, hanging my head. “After the war I was chronically drunk, but the longer her labor lasted, the more I knew it would be a bad outcome, so I stopped drinking. I needed a clear head. When I tried to do the surgery, I had mostly sobered up, but it didn’t go well. I know they would have died anyway, but I caused her and her family more pain, and I feel like I killed them.”

She cupped my face in her palm, turning it so I had to look her in the eye. “Are you responsible for her death? No. I believe you when you say they would have died anyway. Were you negligent? Probably. But you know the mistake you made and you learned from it. You’ll never drink again while practicing medicine.”

I smiled. “I can always count on you to be honest with me.”

She tried to scrunch her brows together, but half of her face was so swollen it didn’t respond the way it should. “Of course. I’ll always be honest with you.”

“Does that mean there’s still a future for us?”

“If you’ll have me, Mr. Wilder, I still want to be Mrs. Wilder.”

“As far as I’m concerned you always have been.”

“You want a shot of whiskey?” Isaac asked. “It’ll calm your nerves.”

“I haven’t had a drink in years, not going to start again now. But thanks for the offer,” I said.

Miles—the last of Isaac’s brothers—lounged in a chair on the other side of the room. He wasn’t part of the wedding party, but since all the men in the family seemed to be gathered in the room, I wasn’t surprised to see him. “I’ll take it, Ike.”

Isaac handed the glass over without a second look. Miles had only recently arrived and the two of them were still figuring out how to get along after not seeing each other for a while. Made me think about my brother and sister—neither of whom could attend the wedding. Lydia and I planned a wedding trip back east in the spring or summer. We’d visit my family, then.

“Your tie’s crooked there, Doc,” Sam said from behind me.

His reflection in the mirror grinned at me. “Thanks,” I said, untying it so I could try again. “And I’m not officially in practice yet.”

Dread still made my heart skip a beat when I thought about practicing medicine again, but as long as I had Lydia by my side, I’d get through the fear.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.

“You’ll be hanging out a shingle before you know it,” Sam said.

Wyatt cracked the door, “everyone decent?” he asked, then stuck his head in. “Damn. Got the wrong room. I hoped for a room full of pretty ladies.”

“You’re in a good mood,” Miles said.

“Better than you,” Sam said.

“Piss off.”

“You first.”

“Jesus, you two never grow up, do you?” Wyatt said, coming in and leaning on the closed door. He’d discarded his usual denims for trousers, but otherwise he wore his standard white shirt, vest, and string tie. He’d added a jacket as a concession to the formality of the wedding.

Miles grunted and threw back the last of his whiskey. “Weddings make me itchy.”

“Nobody’s asking you to get married,” Wyatt said.

“Good thing. I ain’t never going to.”

Isaac laughed, and I snorted. “Never say never, little brother,” Isaac said. “I never thought I would, either, but when you meet the right woman it’s like being hit by a train.”

“Why would you ever want that? Sounds painful.”

“I guess it is, sort of,” I said. “The right woman wraps your heart around hers and suddenly the thought of not having her in your life is too painful to even consider.”

“Ugh. Sounds awful.”

“I’d like to get married someday,” Sam said. He looked wistful at the idea, but I couldn’t tell if he meant it, or if he just gave his brother a hard time. Of them all, Sam was the jokester. I never knew whether to take him seriously.

“Like any woman’s going to want you,” Miles said.

“Palmer is definitely not big enough for the two of you,” Wyatt said.

Personally, I found them—all of the siblings—entertaining. I’d been happier since we’d returned to Palmer than I had been in a very long time.

“There’s someone for everyone, Sam. You’ll find her,” I said.

Miles made a disgusted sound, and the rest of us laughed at him.

“By the way, Doc,” Wyatt said, sweeping his hat off his head and slapping it on his thigh. “Everything’s been cleared for you to take over Doc Brown’s practice. You and Beth can open up any time you want.”

“Beth doesn’t think I’m stepping on her toes, does she?” I asked Isaac.

“We’ve been over this, Emmett. Beth’s patients are mostly women and children. Men don’t really like her doctoring them. She’s happy to have a partner to share all the work, especially after the baby comes.”

I nodded. Checking my reflection, I decided I was ready. My tie was straight now, at least. I smoothed my hair, and my freshly trimmed goatee, and took a deep breath to calm my nerves. This wedding terrified me a lot more than the last one. I had to keep reminding myself we were really already married and this wedding was just a formality.

Still, the room felt far too small and crowded. “Gentlemen, I’m going to get some fresh air before ceremony.”

The round of guffaws and teasing about cold feet and second thoughts were no surprise, but I cut my way through the lot of them to the door, giving Wyatt a sour look when he grinned and refused to budge.

“Hey Doc, thanks for bringing Lydia home. It’s good to have you both back where you belong.”

“Careful, Sheriff, you might gain a reputation as a romantic.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed at me. “You’re not back in fifteen minutes, we’re coming looking for you,” he said before he finally moved.

“I’d be an idiot to run out on the best thing that ever happened to me,” I said and slipped out the door.