Love on the Mend
© 2015 by Karen Witemeyer
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
Ebook edition created 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-44126-496-1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Dan Pitts
Author represented by Books & Such Literary Agency
To all the medical professionals who minister to our soldiers and to civilians ravaged by war:
May you never grow weary in doing good. Thank you for your service, and may God grant peace and rest to your souls.
Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye.
Colossians 3:13
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter One
C
OLD
S
PRING
, T
EXAS
—1868
Peace and quiet. That’s all he sought.
Dr. Jacob Sadler pulled his mount to a halt outside of town and braced himself against the tidal wave of memories cresting at the sight of the weathered wooden sign that announced he’d finally arrived home. He inhaled a deep breath and let it slip from between his lips on a slow, silent hiss.
Peace and quiet. After the horrors of the War Between the States—the endless barrage of wounded soldiers, amputated limbs, and death—they were the two commodities he most craved. The quiet he could have found in any small country practice, but finding peace required something more. Something it had taken him seventeen years to face. His past.
“Come on, Galen.” Jacob nudged his buckskin into a walk. “No use putting it off any longer.” He’d procrastinated enough, spending the past two years with Darius and Nicole Thornton down in Galveston.
He’d needed the time to recover from the war, and as always, the Thorntons had welcomed him with open arms. He owed them everything. They’d taken him in as a kid, sheltered him, loved him, and paid for his education. More than once, they’d asked to adopt him into their family, but he’d always refused. Seemed disloyal to his true parents. Better to simply earn his place in their household through work.
This last visit had been no different. He’d unloaded freight at the docks with Darius and helped Nicole in the evenings with the books, when he wasn’t reading his medical journals. Though he’d
been reluctant to set up a medical practice there, he had tended the sick and injured of the Renard Shipping crews and their families whenever the need arose and even delivered a baby when the local midwife had been occupied with another birthing.
It had been a satisfying two years, filled with joy and purpose. Yet beneath his surface contentment, a lingering turbulence roiled in his soul. A turbulence that wouldn’t calm until he’d made peace with the past.
So when the town of Cold Spring advertised for a doctor in the Galveston paper, Jacob recognized the call for what it was—an invitation from the Lord to face his demons and finally put them to rest.
Jacob guided his mount to the west, along the fork that would take him by the churchyard instead of through the center of town. The churchyard . . . and the cemetery where his parents lay. Most likely his baby sister, too, though he’d not stayed long enough to discover if his drunk of an uncle had had the decency to see to her burial. The old reprobate was probably interred there himself by now. The biggest demon of them all.
A scream shattered the afternoon quiet, spooking Jacob’s horse and chilling Jacob’s blood. He scanned the roadside, then shifted his gaze farther afield, his knees tightening about Galen’s midsection. That had been no demon. The sound had been all too real. The cry of a woman or child.
The horse shied and pranced, tossing his head back and forth. “Be still, Galen,” Jacob snapped as he took up the slack in the reins, his eyes still scouring the landscape for clues. Why did there have to be so many dad-blamed trees? He could barely make out the church through the loblolly pines. “Someone may be hurt.”
Finally movement caught his eye. Well, more of a flash of color. Blue. There. At the church. Jacob kicked Galen into a canter, veering off the road in favor of a more direct route. The gelding surged through the trees as if sensing his master’s urgency, finding his way over the choppy terrain and leaping over a fallen log before shuddering to a stop in the clearing outside the church.
Jacob slid off the horse’s back and quickly moved to untie the doctoring bag he kept strapped to the saddle. “Hello!” he called as his fingers worked the leather strings free. “Is anyone hurt?”
A muffled shout came from inside the church. Jacob couldn’t make out the words, but the words didn’t matter. He had a direction.
Armed with his medical kit and his army revolver, he strode to the church entrance, taking the steps two at a time. A board groaned under his boot when he landed, and the banister wobbled, as if his nearness was enough to scare it out of its moorings. Jacob jerked his gaze upward, only then noting the shutters that hung askew and the whistle of wind blowing through the weather-warped wood. What had happened to the cheery whitewashed building where he had worshipped all those years ago?
Gone. Just like his family.
A second scream spurred Jacob into the building.
“No, Mollie. Stop! It hurts!”
Jacob rushed down the aisle, not waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. Which explained why he tripped over the rope strung across the floor at ankle height. Tucking his medical bag into his midsection to protect the glass vials inside, he stumbled forward and jammed his shoulder against a pew.
A groan echoed in the rafters, but it wasn’t his. The sound reverberated at a higher pitch.
“Mollie?” A panicked, weeping call.
“I’m fine, Adam. Don’t worry. Some fella just tripped over the rope and gave my middle a bit of a squeeze.” The tightness of her voice had Jacob immediately extricating himself from the rope. The poor girl sounded as if he’d inadvertently cut off her air supply.
Shadows began to take more distinct shape as his vision sharpened. Jacob followed the line of the rope. Knotted around the base of a pew, over the floor and . . . along a pair of prone legs draped in plain cotton petticoats and a blue-striped skirt. The rest of the young lady’s form was not to be found, having disappeared into the hole gaping in the sanctuary’s floor.
Not wanting his greater weight to strain the already weakened floorboards, Jacob hung back and lowered himself to the ground near the woman’s feet, setting his doctor’s bag on the nearest pew. “What can I do to help?”
“Man the rope.” She lifted her upper half and scooted backward a bit on the floor, before twisting to get a look at him. Disheveled, dark blond hair spilling from a messy bun veiled her features before
she blew the tresses aside with an impatient huff. Turning her gaze on him, she scanned him briefly, then nodded. “You’ll do.”
“Do for what?” he couldn’t help asking, a little bemused. He’d expected the woman to rush at him, pleading tearfully for him to rescue the boy who’d obviously fallen through the floor, but she apparently intended to remain in charge of the situation.
“Hoisting us back up, of course.” Clasping the rope tied about her midsection, she pulled herself around to a sitting position. “I would be down there with Adam right now if I thought I’d be strong enough to climb back up with him, but I couldn’t risk getting us both trapped down there. But now you’re here, so there’s no reason to delay.” Like a rabbit slipping free of a snare, she wriggled the rope past her hips and down her legs until the loop pushed free of her feet. Then without so much as a word of warning, she flipped to her stomach, slid her legs over the edge, and disappeared into the hole.
Jacob lunged for her, but his hands grasped only air. Thankfully, the crazy woman had the sense to slow her descent by dangling from her fingertips a moment before dropping the rest of the way. Thrusting his head over the side, Jacob spotted her scurrying over to a boy who lay huddled on the dirt floor. He released a breath. She seemed hale and hearty. The boy, on the other hand, did not. Even with the heavy shadows, Jacob could see the unnatural angle of the boy’s left leg. A break. Hopefully a clean one. If it was compound . . . Well, he prayed it wasn’t.
“Toss me the rope,” the little general commanded. “We need to get Adam out of here. He’s looking awfully pale.”
The kid was probably going into shock. “Are his eyes focused?”
“What does that matter? His leg’s busted. We gotta get him out and take him to Doc Bradshaw’s.” She moved around behind the boy and anchored her arms beneath his. “Get me that rope, mister.”
“Don’t move him!”
Jacob’s warning came too late. Mollie had already lifted Adam’s arms and dragged him a few inches, when Adam’s scream stopped her. The high-pitched shriek ricocheted through the abandoned church like a tortured soul seeking salvation.
Mollie’s face tipped up to find Jacob. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Please, mister.” Her voice trembled. “I need the rope.”
“I’ll get it,” Jacob promised, the dent in the young woman’s composure softening his heart. Thankfully, his brain remained firm.
No way would he be hoisting that kid up like a fish at the end of a line. Too many things could go wrong. Not to mention the excruciating pain it would cause him. He wouldn’t bother telling Mollie that, though. She’d just argue about it and then try to manage things herself.
He knew the type. Doers. Impossible to ask them to sit back and wait. A good trait when it came to getting things done—a bad one when patience could mean the difference between saving a leg and amputating.
So he’d give her something to do.
“I need you to lay the boy down on his back. Gently,” Jacob instructed in his best
doctor’s orders
tone. “He’s going into shock. We need to help his body relax. Be careful of his leg. If the movement pains him too much, sit behind him and lay his head across your lap. Loosen his collar. It’ll make breathing easier. I’ll need to splint that leg before we can move him.”
“But you can’t do that from up there.”
Jacob smiled. “That’s why I’m coming down.”
Mollie shook her head so hard, what was left of her bun tumbled around her shoulders. “You can’t! You have to pull us up!”
“Easy, Mollie.” Jacob shushed her. “There’s bound to be a cellar door outside somewhere. I’ll come in through there. We can take Adam out the same way.”
“Don’t you think I already thought of that? It was the first thing I checked.” She glared up at him. “That door is chained and locked. You can’t get in that way.”
“Oh, I’ll get in. Don’t worry.”
She spun away from him then, muttering something that sounded remarkably like
arrogant toad
before returning to Adam’s side and gently laying him on his back. The boy whimpered at the movement but didn’t protest. Mollie stroked his brow and murmured soft, reassuring words. There was nothing soft about the glare she shot at Jacob, though.
“Don’t just stand there.” She shooed him with her free hand. “South side. Behind the parson’s apartment. We’ll be here when you get back.”
