Love Inspired Historical December 2013 Bundle: Mail-Order Mistletoe Brides\The Wife Campaign\A Hero for Christmas\Return of the Cowboy Doctor (81 page)

It was as if everyone was waiting to see if the danger had truly passed.

Word had been spreading of the first Sunday worship service back in the church, this coming weekend, and Hattie looked forward to seeing her friends and acquaintances. And perhaps a bit more of Maxwell. It seemed they'd been scheduled for opposite hours in the clinic ever since their long hours together while Papa had been gone. She didn't know if Papa was trying to make up for the heavy burden of work they'd been under or if Maxwell had been needed at home, but she missed his quiet, steady presence. Her father's absentmindedness seemed to have increased since he'd returned from Pear Grove, and often Hattie found herself at a loss. Almost as if she were...lonely.

Which was silly. She'd always kept her own counsel. She had friends, including Emily, whom she counted as her best friend. She was busy with the daily work of the clinic.

But the fact remained that her thoughts traveled to the cowboy medical student far too often. Even more than she thought about her upcoming trip.

She still hadn't spoken to her papa about her plans, and time was becoming short—she was expected to meet with the scholarship committee in three weeks.

She heard the rear door open and close, and shook herself out of her musings.

“Papa? Is that you?” she called out, although she'd expected him to come up the boardwalk, the same way he'd left.

“No, ma'am.” Maxwell peeked out from the hallway, raising his Stetson in one hand in a sort of wave. His hair was rumpled and in disarray, and his green eyes seemed to glow at her. “Afternoon, Hattie.”

She returned his greeting and his smile, momentarily feeling feverish. Had the room warmed just from the opening of the back door to the heat outside? Or was it Maxwell's presence that made her feel overheated?

“Papa should be back shortly. He went to get some lunch.”

He nodded and moved into the doorway, leaning one shoulder casually against the jamb. “How've you been? Feels like we haven't seen each other much since the cases of cholera were released.”

“Fine. No nerves. Not even a hint of one.”

His eyes warmed.

“And no emergency surgeries in the middle of the night, either?”

She laughed. “No. How did your family fare? Everyone all right?”

“Yes, thank the Lord. All my brothers are as ornery as ever, and Ma's exhausting herself trying to keep up with the younger ones. She's about ready to have this baby any day.”

Hattie nodded. “Are you going to assist her?”

His head jerked back, expression changing from surprise to dismay. “I hadn't even thought of it—figured she'd be wanting your pa, if anyone.”

“You don't want to?” She was unable to hold back a laugh at his obvious discomfort with the thought. “It would be hands-on experience you could take back to medical school with you.”

“No! I mean—it's just fine with me if my ma's private affairs stay private.”

Her quivering lips must've given away her urge to laugh and he mock glared at her, crossing his muscled arms over his chest. “What about you? Had a certain talk with your parents yet? You all packed to go?”

Her amusement faded quickly. “No. I've tried to bring it up a couple of times, but Mama keeps talking about how worried she was about Papa while he was gone—and how overworked she thought I was, as well. When she talks about it like that, I can't imagine how they will agree to let me go.”

“The way I see it, you earned the right, between that surgery and working on all the cholera patients while your pa was gone.”

Her face heated with that Maxwell-inspired fever again.

“You want me to talk to your pa?”

“No! No. Thank you. It's my future.”

“So you're going to do it today?”

She breathed in.

Just then, the door opened, startling her and saving Hattie from having to answer. Papa came in, shaking dust off of his boots.

“Oh. Hello, Maxwell.”

The younger man nodded a greeting.

“Hattie, no patients?”

“None yet.” She smoothed her suddenly sweaty hands over the protective apron she wore, heart thudding in her ears.

“Why don't you go home and see if your mother needs any help with the supper preparations? Or enjoy this sunny afternoon out in the garden?”

Papa was already moving back into the hallway toward the examination rooms. As if he'd already dismissed her. He'd put her off so many times already, she couldn't stand it again.

Maxwell moved aside for Papa to pass through the hall and raised his brows at Hattie.

“I will in a moment. Papa, can I speak to you about something first?” She followed him down the hallway, passing Maxwell, who reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze as she did so. Offering comfort. She soaked it up.

“What is it, dear?” Papa didn't even look up as he dug beneath one of the cabinets where he kept some of his journals for recording patient maladies.

Hattie stood in the doorway, waiting for him to emerge from the cabinet. Waiting for his attention to turn to her, but he only kept mumbling with his head in the cupboard.

A glance back down the hall revealed Maxwell still standing in the front vestibule, watching her. He nodded to her, motioned with his hands that she should continue. She was embarrassed to think he might hear what she was getting ready to ask Papa, but less than she might've been because she knew he thought she could do it.

“Could you...could you look at me for a moment? It's rather important.”

Papa finally stood, wrinkling his bushy white brows as he turned to her. “What is it?”

With his full attention on her, her courage wavered and she had to take a deep breath. “I'd like to talk about—” she faltered and then rushed on “—attending medical school in the fall.”

“You want to
what?
”

“When we spoke earlier this spring, you promised to consider it,” she reminded him. She kept her voice as even as possible. Didn't want him to see her as a hysterical female in this moment. “I've been offered a tuition scholarship, assuming I pass an oral interview—”

Papa's face had hardened into an unreadable mask and he shook his head. “You know your mother's feelings on you helping out in the clinic as it is.”

“Papa, I'm old enough to make my own decisions—and I think I've proven myself in the last weeks, even the last years working at your side. This is what I really want.” He had no idea how desperately true it was.

“But what about Maxwell? I think that young man fancies you.”

Her eyes darted to the hallway door of their own accord. She hoped he was far enough away that he hadn't heard Papa's last words. She'd guessed he might have growing feelings for her, but she couldn't give up her dream for a
possibility.

Noise from the front of the clinic interrupted them—footsteps, voices. She could clearly hear Maxwell greeting whoever had entered the clinic.

Her father was still shaking his head. “Your mother will never agree.”

“But if you support me—”

“Hattie.” The serious, final tone in his voice stopped her from arguing further. “We'll continue this conversation later. Why don't you head home for a bit?”

With that stinging dismissal, he brushed past her into the front of the clinic.

She sneaked out the back door, unable to face Maxwell and his optimism. Optimism that was apparently unwarranted.

Tears blurred her vision and she leaned against the back of the clinic, just outside the door.

How was it that Maxwell was the only one who understood her? Her own papa, a physician with a true passion for healing, couldn't believe that his daughter felt the same. Or if he knew it, he refused to go against her mother's wishes and allow Hattie to have the one thing she wanted most. How could he deny her, when she'd saved a man's life by performing surgery?

She sniffled and batted at her tears with the back of her hand.

What was she going to do now? If her father refused to see her side of things, how could she ever get her mother to agree? She'd been raised from an early age to respect her parents—did she have it within her to go against their wishes?

She was so confused.

And she ached to talk to Maxwell.

How had the man she hadn't wanted around in the first place crept into her heart? She considered him a true friend—he knew some things that she hadn't even shared with Emily. But this desire to run to him with her troubles was new. And a little frightening.

Could it be that the friendship she felt was deepening to something more...?

Chapter Eleven

D
ays later, Bear Creek was having its first church service since the outbreak, the first real chance the folks had to get together, and it seemed everyone in the whole town and surrounding area had come.

Maxwell stood at the back of the sanctuary, where the pews had been returned to their regular spots, scanning the crowd for Hattie. He saw the young woman Annabelle, who'd been one of the patients they'd treated. She smiled at him, and he nodded to her but didn't move from his post.

His brothers and parents moved around the crowd, greeting friends and hugging folks. His gaze kept landing on his brothers, and each one seemed to send him a teasing gesture, raised eyebrows or a wink, as if they knew he was looking for Hattie.

He'd barely seen her in the clinic since her pa had come back from Pear Grove. The doc had insisted Maxwell cut back on his days at the clinic to help Oscar with his horses, and it seemed as if they passed each other, often without being able to speak. Last week, they'd had a few moments to talk, but he hadn't discovered if she'd had any resolution to her conversation with her pa about medical school. Doc Powell had come into the clinic waiting room with compressed lips. Maxwell could guess things hadn't gone in Hattie's favor. But he wanted to know it from her, find out how she was doing. Encourage her.

He missed conversing with his friend. And that was what she'd become. It was different, talking with a woman versus with his brothers. He hadn't experienced exactly the same thing with Elizabeth, had still been slightly awkward with her, even up until they'd parted company. But something about passing a crisis with Hattie had changed things between them.

A waving hand caught his eye. Annabelle again. He didn't want to embolden her and had thought his manner in the church-turned-clinic was professional and that she wouldn't be encouraged by it. To his surprise, she now nodded toward another part of the sanctuary, a small, resigned smile on her lips.

And then he saw Hattie, passing between two folks near the front of the sanctuary, her hair pulled up in a fancy style. Was her dress new? The soft green accented the honey strands in her hair and made her eyes even bluer. His feet had taken him to her before he really knew what he was doing.

And she was looking up at him with a warm smile on her lips, in her eyes. He found himself as tongue-tied as ever.

“Hello,” he managed to say.

Just then, the preacher stood up at the podium and began singing a hearty rendition of a favorite hymn, the usual signal for everyone to get into place at their pews. Maxwell craned his neck to see his family all crammed into a row at the back of the sanctuary. Should he walk back and join them? He was embarrassed for everyone to see that he'd made his way up front to talk to Hattie—and barely spoken to her! There were still folks standing in the aisle, so it would take some pushing for him to get back with his family.

She solved his dilemma for him by curving her hand around his arm and pulling him into the pew beside her. He nodded to the Powells on her other side.

As he stood shoulder to shoulder with her, heat scorched the back of his neck as he realized what all his brothers—and the rest of the folks in Bear Creek, likely—would think. That he was courting Hattie.

But some part of him didn't mind at all. Part of him wanted it to be true.

The song ended, and the preacher motioned everyone to take their seats.

As the crowd shuffled and settled into the pews, Hattie leaned close to Maxwell, so close that her words brushed his jaw with heat. “Mrs. Fishbourne asked for you yesterday when she came into the clinic.”

He grinned, shaking his head. Somehow the woman, who had chronic complaints of rheumatism, had decided Maxwell was her favorite at the clinic and always asked to see him. He didn't mind the older lady's ramblings about her past, her now-deceased husband or her children, who had moved away. Part of him could sympathize with her loneliness and he always took the time to talk with her. At least it wasn't as uncomfortable as trying to converse with some of the younger ladies in town!

Hattie's teasing smile pushed the words from his lips before he'd really intended to speak them. “My ma wants you to come for lunch—I'll drive you home later. If...if you want to.”

Her sparkling blue eyes considered him even as the congregation began singing all around them. She gave a small nod, and his heart thundered so loudly he was surprised he could find his voice to join in the singing.

* * *

After worship services, Hattie found herself enfolded in the Whites' large, boisterous family, tucked in the back of the wagon behind Penny and Jonas on the bench seat and amid Sarah and her four, with Walt tucked up to her side and Ida perched on her knee.

She loved the busy feel of their family and having to keep up with multiple conversations at once.

Maxwell rode his horse just off to the side of the wagon, almost as if afraid to get too far away.

“And then—” Walt broke from his story to gasp a breath of air, in the manner of all little boys who couldn't get their words out fast enough “—Maxwell put a special bandage on the stuffed rabbit...”

Maxwell coughed, and Hattie shot him a grin. “I see I'm not the only one who treats the occasional animal, then.”

The man in question looked off past his horse's ears, squinting a little beneath his Stetson. The hat shadowed his face, and she couldn't tell if he was blushing. She guessed he might be.

Ida patted her cheek, demanding Hattie's attention and distracting her from the handsome cowboy. “Maxwell fell. Horsey.”

It seemed everyone wanted to talk about Maxwell today. The first thing his mother had said was how proud they were that Maxwell had helped with the rash of cholera cases.

Hattie furrowed her brows, looking to the man not far from her side. “You fell? You didn't mention anything.”

He rotated one shoulder. It could've been a shrug or even a twinge at the reminder of the injury.

“It wasn't anything bad—just a bruise. One of the colts threw me when I stepped into the saddle.” Now she was sure he'd turned red. “Wasn't the first time and won't be the last.”

“Maybe you should let her play doctor and do an examination when we get back to the house,” one of Maxwell's brothers—she thought it was Ricky—called out, riding off quickly with a laugh when Maxwell stood up in his stirrups and reached for him.

She thought she heard Maxwell utter something under his breath, but she couldn't make out the words. “Sorry,” he mumbled in her direction.

“I'll talk to him when we get home,” Penny said.

Hattie had to stifle a grin when she caught Sarah's dancing eyes.

“They take a bit of getting used to,” the other woman whispered. “But they love each other—regardless of all the pranks and teasing.”

Hattie smiled conspiratorially. “I confess I always wanted a brother and sister.” At least, she had before she'd found out her father had wanted a son instead of the daughter he'd gotten.

Penny shifted on the seat, and Hattie's attention was drawn to the pregnant woman. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Yes.” The woman laughed. “Just at the stage where everything is uncomfortable.”

“I couldn't get her to stay home,” Jonas said over his shoulder.

“He did try,” Penny admitted. “And Maxwell did, as well. But I couldn't miss the first service back.”

Hattie nodded. She'd been so excited to see everyone but conscious of the empty seat in the Hall family's pew. Having Maxwell at her side during worship had eased her burden somewhat. She'd seen him glance at the family as well, a serious, considering look on his face. It was as if they shared the loss.

One of Maxwell's other brothers called to him, and he edged his horse farther away in response.

“You'll rest when we get home,” Jonas told his wife, a no-nonsense tone in his voice. “The boys and I will get lunch on the table.”

Hattie knew her curiosity must be showing on her face.

“I'm not much of a cook,” Penny admitted, laughing at herself.

“Neither is our ma,” the older of Sarah's girls, Cecelia, put in.

Sarah gasped in pretend outrage, then shrugged with a little self-deprecating laugh and hugged her daughter's shoulders. “It's true. I'm afraid our menfolk bear a bit more of the burden in the kitchen than they probably should.”

“We make it work,” Jonas said. “Our family might be different than some, but we're more than blessed.”

Hattie swallowed and stared off at the mountains in the distance. Maxwell's adoptive father was more open with his emotions than hers was. His obvious love for his wife, even willingness to perform a task that some might think was solely a woman's domain, wasn't something Hattie had ever witnessed before. Was this where Maxwell had learned his compassion, his willingness to assist in cleaning up the clinic as a help to her?

Could the Whites' unconventional family be one of the reasons he was able to support her medical-school dreams?

He seemed more open today. Did she dare to ask him about his past?

* * *

“Have ya kissed her yet?” Matty asked from where he and Maxwell rubbed down their horses side by side in the barn.

“Shh!” Maxwell hissed, glancing over his shoulder. Hattie stood talking to Sarah just outside the barn door and didn't seem to have heard. “It isn't like that between us.”

“He hasn't!” his brother called out over his shoulder to Davy and Seb, who were leading their horses into stalls farther in the barn.

“Told ya,” Seb said with a smug tone.

Maxwell had to fight down the urge to slug his brothers—obviously they'd been talking among themselves about his relationship with Hattie.

“Well, we gotta rectify this situation,” Davy said, coming back out of the stall. The spark in his eyes had Maxwell dropping the currycomb in a hurry.

“No, y'all—” he started, but two of his brothers had already gripped his arms and shoved him back farther into the barn, while Seb followed, closing in on him and blocking his view of the barn doors and his chance for escape.

“Leave off—he don't need no help. Needs to stay away from that gal,” Edgar called out as he hefted the saddle from his animal.

The others ignored their pessimistic brother. Edgar shook his head and went back to his task.

Maxwell struggled against their hold, losing his hat in the scuffle. Fortunately they weren't being too rough, as none of them wanted to tell their ma why their Sunday clothes had a sudden hole in them. But he couldn't quite scramble away.

They shoved him into an empty stall, finally releasing him. He huffed in a breath, catching the wind that had been knocked out of him. He considered rushing the stall door, but with three of them blocking it, he couldn't see a way to escape. Maybe he could talk his way out of this.

“I'm not even sure she'd welcome my...kiss.” He huffed the last word, rising on his toes to try to see past them, but he couldn't see outside of the barn to the woman in question. Hopefully, Sarah was still distracting her.

“Why not?” asked Matty. “She came to lunch with ya, didn't she?”

“As a
friend,
” Maxwell emphasized.

“Y'all spent nearly a week together, and you're still calling her just a friend?” Davy asked incredulously.

“It wasn't as if we were courting!” Maxwell burst out. “Sitting around talking about the weather and gossiping and such. We were busy trying to take care of people who were very sick.”

Although he couldn't discount the things he'd learned about Hattie. He had several pages of poetry he'd scribbled about her, about her beauty, her bravery in overcoming her medical condition, her passion for what she wanted to achieve. He was thankful the book was well hidden in his bunk right at this moment.

“That might be true, but I saw her sneaking glances at you, riding out in the wagon with Ma and them,” Seb put in. “She
does
like ya, and you need to get that kiss.”

He couldn't believe this was happening, that his brothers had initiated this conversation with him. He couldn't admit that he'd never kissed anyone before—not even Emily or Elizabeth. They would never let him hear the end of it. But it boiled down to the fact that he didn't know how to go about kissing Hattie.

He wanted to.

The revelation wasn't new to him. Of course he'd thought about it in his bunk at night. He wanted to kiss her; he just couldn't figure out how to get to that point. He well remembered a situation from their teen years with his older brother stealing a kiss from the gal he liked—and it hadn't turned out well.

“Aw, he's thinking about it too much,” Matty said, clearly disgusted. “He'll never do it. Why're we wasting our time?” The blond teen turned and slammed his way out of the barn.

The other two considered Maxwell for a long moment and then they shook their heads as well and turned.

That was it? They'd decided he just wasn't man enough to go through with it?

A sudden desire to prove them wrong puffed up his chest—until reason filtered in and he realized they must've cooked up the plan to muscle him into the stall and figured out what they'd say to get him to take their dare.

But now that the idea was planted, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

* * *

Hattie was a little relieved when Maxwell emerged from the barn behind several of his brothers.

He was sweaty, disheveled. And...blushing again? Had his brothers continued their teasing? Was she the root of it?

That thought pleased her more than it probably should.

“You all right?” he asked in a low voice as he came even with her, mashing his hat onto his head.

“Fine. You?”

He nodded, but a muscle ticked away in his jaw. What
had
his brothers said to him?