The Cowboy Who Caught Her Eye (14 page)

“No, Carter, I—”

“Molly,” he interrupted sternly. “You need a doctor, and I’m going to go get him. I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t really know if she agreed or not. He was already out the door, wondering if he should run or take Sampson. Figuring he’d need the animal if Dr. Henderson wasn’t home, Carter ran for the barn. He didn’t take time to do more than open the stall door before swinging onto the horse, then rode out of the barn as if hell was nipping at Sampson’s heels.

Berating himself for not checking on her when she hadn’t shown up for supper, Carter almost rode past the street the doc’s house was on, and without a bridle, it was all he could do to convince Sampson to make a sharp right.

A moment later, Carter slid off the horse’s back and cleared the little fence separating the house from the street. When his knocks went unanswered, he leaped off the porch and ran to the barn behind.

Empty. Carter was as close to full-blown panic as he’d ever been, when someone shouted.

“You there—are you looking for the doctor?”

For the briefest of moments Carter wondered if the buggy had appeared out of thin air. It hadn’t been there a moment before, nor had he heard the clip-clop of the horse pulling the rig to a rolling stop.

“Is that you, Mr. Buchanan?”

“Yes!” Carter rushed past the horse so fast it tossed its head at the wind he created. “It’s an emergency.”

“It always is at this time of night,” the doctor said. “Was just out to Bob Fisher’s. His wife thought the baby was coming, but it was a false alarm.”

“It’s Molly Thorson,” Carter said, vaulting into the buggy, knowing full well Sampson would find his way home.

“Molly? She hasn’t been sick a day in her life,” the doctor said. “What’s wrong?”

Grabbing the reins out of the other man’s hands, Carter answered, “I’ll tell you along the way.”

He might never remember exactly what he said, but knew he’d gotten the message across when the doctor, holding on to the brace rails with both hands, declared, “I’ll never have a chance to tell anyone if you kill us both before we get there.”

Carter had no intention of killing either of them, but he did stiffen against the terrible storm of emotions Molly had planted inside him. The seeds had been sowed about the first time he saw her, and right now, they’d become a raging blizzard he wasn’t quite sure how to contain.

Looking small and scared, she was still in his bed when he hurried through the door, and she kept her gaze averted from the doctor going to the washstand in the corner. The same one he used each morning. A crushing pressure Carter couldn’t have explained if he had to squeezed his chest from the inside. He knelt next to the bed, took one of her hands in both of his.

“You shouldn’t have—”

“Shh,” he stopped her hushed protest. “There’s nothing to worry about. You don’t need to explain anything, just let him help you.”

Her eyes were paler than ever and full of what Carter had to call dread.

“So, Molly,” the doctor said, splashing in the water. “Have you been dizzy, light-headed, fainted?”

She closed her eyes, and Carter answered for her. “Yes.”

Snatching the towel from where it hung on the wall hook, Dr. Henderson asked, “How else have you been feeling? Happy one minute, cranky the next?”

“Yes,” Carter answered without giving her the chance. He also lifted a brow when the doctor frowned.

“What about swelling?” the man asked. “Your feet or other places?”

Carter couldn’t say on that—other than her stomach—and turned to Molly. Despite her paleness, her cheeks were tinged pink.

“What about cramping? Or pain?”

Carter was staring at her, waiting to hear her answer. Which didn’t appear to be about to come out, not with the way she was gnawing on her bottom lip.

The doctor spoke again. “Mr. Buchanan, I need you to leave us alone.”

“No,” Carter answered.

“I’ve heard of you men. Never met one, but heard of them, and how they don’t take no for an answer.” The doctor stood at the foot of the bed, eyed him squarely. “I don’t take no for an answer, either.”

Carter was about to protest when the doctor added, “I’m sure Molly will be more comfortable with you outside.”

The trepidation in Molly’s eyes chilled him in ways winter weather never had, yet the way she glanced toward the open doorway told him he had to go, wait outside. “I’ll be on the other side of the door,” he told her. “I’ll hear if you call.”

She gave a tiny nod, and seeing her so meek and mild only added to how fragile she was right now, and that tore at him. Not caring that Dr. Henderson still stood near the bed, watching their every move, Carter kissed Molly. Full on the lips. “You don’t have to explain anything to him,” he said again, hoping she understood he was referring to how she’d become pregnant.

Once she nodded, Carter stood slowly and faced the doctor. “I’ll be right outside the door.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Carter left then, though it was extremely difficult. Molly needed someone, and he wanted that someone to be him. Before the door closed behind him, the good doctor said, “Put my horse in the barn, would you, Carter?”

Carter whirled about, but discovered nothing to stare at except the firmly closed door. After an indiscernible amount of time, which felt like hours but was probably only minutes, he moved, and went to put the doctor’s horse and buggy in the barn—only because he didn’t want anyone to see it in the yard.

Molly didn’t know what to expect and was embarrassed by how thoroughly Dr. Henderson examined her. He didn’t say a lot, not concerning her condition, but did ask about Karleen and Ivy, and shared his enthusiasm that the girl had been allowed to go to school. Relishing talking about anything except the reason he was here, she found the capacity to explain Carter was to thank for Ivy’s education.

“I’d heard that,” the doctor said, covering her with the sheet and blanket.

She pulled the covers up to her chin, grateful to be completely covered again, and kept her gaze on her hands where they’d naturally gone to rest upon her stomach.

“I’m going to let Mr. Buchanan in now—that way I won’t have to repeat myself. Is that all right?”

“Yes,” Molly said. Dr. Henderson had frowned several times during the examination and she wanted Carter by her side when she heard the doctor’s findings. He entered immediately and her heart somersaulted. So did the baby—at least it felt that way. Without a single word, Carter rushed to her side.

She lifted a hand and blinked at the tears forming when he took it, kissed it, then knelt beside the bed. He was so very handsome, so strong and solid, and genuine. Beyond all good sense, she wondered how she’d ever manage when he left.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Unsure how to answer, Molly glanced toward Dr. Henderson.

The man was replacing his instruments in his black leather bag. “A little bleeding isn’t unusual during pregnancy,” he said. “Everything seems fine, so that leads me to believe it’s nothing to worry about this time, either. Just to be on the safe side, I’d like Molly to rest for a day or two.”

Relief was flowing over her, and that set a few tears free. Yet if word got out she was bed-bound, rumors could spread. In her case, it wouldn’t be rumors.

Dr. Henderson seemed to understand her plight. “You don’t need to stay in bed,” he said, picking up his suit coat. “But take it easy. No heavy lifting or long walks.”

“I’ll see she rests, follows your orders,” Carter said.

Molly was unprepared for how devoted Carter sounded, how deeply his sincere gaze penetrated. Yes, she’d admitted her attraction to him, even fathomed she’d fallen in love with him, but she had no right to ask him to take care of her, especially not while she was carrying another man’s baby.

“I must admit, I was a little surprised,” Dr. Henderson said.

Molly wasn’t sure which increased her frown, the doctor’s words or the way Carter snapped his head to stare at the other man.

“You’re several months along, Molly,” the doctor continued. “I’d say the baby will make an entrance in December.”

She’d already calculated that herself, as well as how long it might be before the world knew.

“I’ll need to see you again, tomorrow, and again in a couple of days.” Dr. Henderson moved to the door and waggled a finger at her. “I’ll need to see you regularly thereafter. A first pregnancy isn’t the time to disregard your health.”

Molly flinched at his frown. She wouldn’t say she’d been disregarding anything, and once again held her breath, waiting for him to ask who the father was. It had to be coming, and when that got out, life promised to be impossible. It was the one thing she had been able not to concentrate on. She didn’t want to now, either.

Carter gave her hand a gentle squeeze as he stood. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said, crossing the room to shake the man’s hand. He also dug in his pocket. Molly should protest she’d pay her own bills, but decided to wait and tell him that after the doctor left.

He followed the man out the door, and she let out a long, heavy sigh. Relief now flowed into disgrace. If only she’d known more. If she’d had someone she could have asked, then she’d have known the bleeding wasn’t life threatening. It hadn’t been that bad, and she’d been telling herself since noticing it this morning there was nothing to worry about. It hadn’t been until she saw Carter after leaving the outhouse her true fears had burst open. The tiny life already meant so much to her, and she’d feared her behavior had brought this on. How she’d wished things were different, that she wasn’t pregnant. She didn’t wish that, not entirely.

It was as if she was stuck in the middle of a very rickety bridge and didn’t know which way to go. She couldn’t leave town, abandon the only home her sisters had ever known, but she couldn’t stay either.

She wanted the baby with all her heart, but she didn’t want her child to be surrounded by humiliation—or worse. Both choices left her feeling extremely selfish and somewhat terrorized.

Flipping back the covers, she eased her legs over the edge. She would take it easy, do nothing to cause harm to the baby, and she’d make a decision soon, figure out which direction she’d have to go to get off the bridge she was on.

About to stand, Molly paused when the door opened.

“What are you doing?” Carter asked.

He moved like lightning, starting in one spot and landing in another in little more than a bright flash.

She pushed off the bed. “I’m going to the house.”

“No, you’re not.”

He lifted her into his arms again and laid her back down on the bed, then gently tucked the blanket around her. Molly considered protesting, just getting up, but the doctor’s warning wouldn’t let her, or maybe it was Carter’s attention. Mood swings. Dr. Henderson had mentioned them. She buried the back of her head in the pillow, suddenly exhausted. The doctor said that was normal, too.

“You heard the doctor,” Carter said. “You can’t walk all the way to the house, up the stairs.”

“I have to,” she said, smothering a yawn.

He took off his hat and his gun belt, setting them both on the table. “No, you don’t. You can sleep right where you’re at.”

She shook her head while her eyes closed of their own accord. “No, I can’t.”

The mattress shifted beneath her, and she opened one eye, too tired to lift both lids at the same time. Carter was sitting on the edge and after kicking off his boots, he lay down beside her. She shouldn’t like it, shouldn’t want it.

“Yes, you can,” he said, scooting closer.

The intimacy practically stole her breath.

“And I’m going to lie right here to make sure you do.”

She had to attempt some type of protest. “But the girls. They can’t—”

“They won’t. I’ll wake you long before sunrise. Make sure you’re in your bed before they wake up.” He snaked an arm beneath her neck.

The tears that gathered weren’t in her eyes, but in her throat. Being held by him erupted a desperation of feelings, of needing, and of irrefutable comfort.

With his other hand he dowsed the lamp, and then folded that arm around her, too. “Go to sleep, Molly. You’re safe.”

Safe. That she knew. It was everything else she had to worry about. Molly closed her eyes, wanting to block the surplus of warnings that were sure to come, but all that happened was a great sense of respite. She was still trying to convince herself she couldn’t sleep in Carter’s bed, snuggled next to him, breathing in his wonderful spicy scent, when that was exactly what she did—and fell into a deep, restful sleep.

She didn’t realize how deep her slumber was until he was saying her name, waking her gently. When she stirred, tugged her heavy lids open, he whispered, “It’s almost daybreak. I’m going to carry you into the house.”

Her tongue was thick, didn’t want to work, wouldn’t form the word
no
, or tell him she could walk. A grumble deep in her throat was all that came out.

“Shh,” he said, lifting her off the bed. “We don’t want to wake the girls.”

That
she did agree with, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Chapter Eleven

M
olly barely remembered the trip into the house, how Carter settled her into her bed and then disappeared. She actually wondered if she had dreamed it all, until she opened her eyes and saw Karleen standing next to her bed.

“Ivy and I are leaving for church now. Carter is minding the store. He said you were still sick most of the night. That you spent a considerable amount of time in the outhouse.”

Heat flushed into Molly’s cheeks.

“I brought you some tea and toast.” Her sister gestured to the bedside table. “That should help. Carter said to tell you to stay put. I’ll come check on you when we get home.”

Molly waited until Karleen closed the door before letting out a groan and pressing one palm against her forehead. Carter hadn’t been surprised about her pregnancy. He had already known, as she’d feared. A heavy but cleansing sigh left her chest. In reality, having him know was more of a comfort than anything.

Her gaze went to the door, and more than curiosity had her wondering if she’d still feel this way when she saw him again.

There wasn’t a lot she’d be able to do about it either way, and she’d have to face it, now or later. She flipped back the covers, smiled at the thought of Carter tucking her beneath them and crawled out of bed.

She was dressed and had just finished making her bed when a soft knock sounded on her door. Several emotions jostled inside her, strong enough that she had to take a deep breath before she started to cross the room. The door opened before she arrived, and she stopped, stood in the center of the rug covering the open space.

“Good morning, Molly.”

Air going in and out collided inside her lungs. “Good morning, Dr. Henderson.”

“Don’t worry. I waited until the girls left for church.”

She nodded, though in many ways she felt more exposed than she had last night.

A man well past middle age, Dr. Henderson probably understood his patients beyond their medical conditions. His passion for helping others and his perceptions of how to best see to the needs of all kinds of people had never waned in all the years she’d known him, and didn’t now.

“I won’t need to examine you completely again, just check things and ask a few questions.” He gestured toward the bed. “Why don’t you sit down.”

Molly sat, needed to, and folded her hands in her lap to prevent him from seeing how they trembled.

He set his bag on the table and while digging in its depths, he asked, “How did you sleep?”

“Fine, thank you,” she replied.

Assembling his stethoscope, he nodded toward her. “Unbutton the top few buttons of your dress, please. I need to take a listen.”

She did, and forced herself to relax when he set the cold metal against her skin. “How’s the bleeding? Has is stopped?”

“Mostly.” Having used the chamber pot under the bed just moments ago she was able to answer.

“Bright red or dark?”

“Dark, I guess.”

He nodded and she waited, wondering what difference, if any, it made.

“Good, that’s good.” He waved a hand. “Lie back, I want to listen to the baby.”

Molly followed his directions, and held her breath to keep from flinching when he unfastened one button over her stomach for the end of his stethoscope. He moved the instrument around a little bit and then grew very still, listening. She didn’t dare breathe until he straightened and started dismantling the listening device.

“Everything sounds good,” he said, taking her hand. Once she was sitting up, he turned to replace the stethoscope in his bag. “You can button up. Do you feel the baby move?”

She fastened her dress, the buttons at her waist and neck. “Yes. More often lately.”

“How does it feel?”

“Wonderful.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she bowed her head.

“That’s how it should feel, Molly. Wonderful. It’s quite a miracle.”

“I know,” she whispered. Not being able to freely cherish and express the sensations, the love she already felt, was so incredibly disappointing and grew more so each day.

He’d picked up his bag, now stood before her with sincerity filling his wise and wrinkled face. “I understand you and Carter need to keep this a secret a bit longer. You don’t have to worry I’ll disclose anything, but don’t let the situation prohibit you from experiencing the joy of becoming a mother. That’s part of a healthy pregnancy.”

Molly was listening, but her mind was stuck. She needed to keep it a secret. Carter didn’t. Other than for her. Yet the doctor sounded as if he thought the baby was both hers and Carter’s.

“I still want you to go slow. Sit a lot. Let others do things, especially for the next few days. I’ll be by to see you soon.”

She’d been nodding, mainly to let him know she’d heard his instructions, but lifted her head now. His visits would arouse suspicion.

“Don’t fret, Molly. No one will know why I’m here.”

His smile was gentle and sincere as he turned and crossed the room, but once at the door, with the knob securely in his hand, he paused. Glancing over his shoulder, he frowned slightly. “I have to tell you what I told Carter. You won’t be able to keep this hidden much longer. He needs to complete his business soon.”

Dr. Henderson was long gone, and Molly was somewhat frozen where she sat on the bed, staring at the closed door.

Carter’s business was to earn enough money to make it to Montana.

Nettled at herself for being selfish again, she finally rose and walked to the door. Of course that was Carter’s business. He’d said it from the first day he’d arrived. She was the one who kept forgetting it.

Carter was in the store, sweeping the floor near the front entrance, and the sight turned her into little more than a grin with a body behind it. He looked as handsome as ever, but the broom didn’t fit him. His movements were stiff and rather awkward, and she hadn’t wanted to laugh out loud so badly in years.

“I can do that,” she finally said.

He spun, smiled. “No, you can’t.” Using the handle, he pointed toward the stool behind the counter. “You can sit down and watch me. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

“Wrong?” She moved to the stool. Not because she was tired, but because that’s what he wanted her to do, and doing what he wanted felt right. “You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“I’m sure I am. I’ve never used one of these before.”

“A broom?”

“Yes. A broom.”

She could no longer stifle a giggle. “It shows.”

His expression flashed distress, but she knew he was teasing and laughed again.

“So tell me, what am I doing wrong?”

“Well, to start with, you should sweep in one direction.” Her heart was thudding steadily, enjoying the silly conversation as much as the rest of her. “Short strokes forward, until you have a pile, not back and forth.”

“Aw, that makes sense,” he said, following her instructions.

“You’ve really never used a broom before?”

“Not that I can remember,” he answered, now sweeping the small amount of dirt out the open doorway.

Molly refrained from saying he’d now have to sweep the porch; she’d do it later. He put the broom in the storage room and then walked around the counter, all the way over to where she sat. His expression had become more sober, and she bit her bottom lip.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

He lifted a brow.

“The doctor said everything is fine.”

Carter touched her cheek, rubbed the side of her face with his fingertips. “He told me that, too.”

“You don’t believe him?”

“I want to,” Carter admitted, though in all honesty he was having a hard time believing a whole lot of anything. Including how utterly lovely she was this morning. Her cheeks were flushed an adorable shade of pink and her pale blue eyes were glistening with slivers of silver. He did want to believe everything was fine, including her health, but there was still an instinct inside him that warned of danger or troubles ahead.

“Thank you, Carter, for—for helping me last night.”

All she’d been through swirled in his mind—and what might have happened if he hadn’t been there. He leaned down, kissed her forehead. “You’re welcome.”

Their gazes locked as he lifted his head and once again, Carter grew unsure. He’d done that a lot lately, and although he was almost getting used to it, he wasn’t fond of the feeling.

“Has it been slow this morning?” she asked.

He took a step back and leaned against the shelf lining the wall behind him. “Yep, not a single customer.”

“It’s Sunday.”

He nodded. “Karleen made cinnamon rolls before she left. Do you want one?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

He nodded again, feeling like a man with two left hands who didn’t know how to use either of them. While she’d slept last night, cradled in his arms, he’d lain awake, pondering all the complexities of life, especially those he’d never wondered about before. Like holding someone as they slept. He’d never done that, and instinctively he knew the marvel at doing so wasn’t something he’d forget anytime soon. Perhaps ever.

Carter had also admitted, while holding her in the quiet darkness of night, that he wasn’t exactly sure what he felt for Molly. He liked her, he cared about her and worried about her, but there was something else there, too. It went deeper and he couldn’t explain what it was. Not even what it felt like. He’d wondered, there in the bed, whether it might be love, but he couldn’t fathom that’s what he felt. How could he? He’d never experienced love, didn’t know how it happened or when or why, or even if. Especially if. If love could ever happen to him. He didn’t know what it was, so if it did happen, how would he know?

There were things he did know, and questions he did want to ask her, which were tumbling forward now faster than dried-up tumbleweeds rolling across the flat plains he’d seen down in Kansas. He tried, but was unable to catch one as it rolled across his tongue.

“Who’s the father of your baby?”

The way her expression fell had his very soul plummeting deep inside him, yet, unlike her, he didn’t let it show. The question was out and he wanted to know the answer.

“No one,” she whispered. “No—”

“That’s impossible,” he interrupted.

Sighing wearily, she said, “I was going to say no one that matters.”

“That, too, is a bit impossible.” He saw her features tighten and held in the ragged sigh snagging somewhere between his lungs and his throat. There wasn’t anything he could do without knowing, so he asked again, “Who is it, Molly?”

She had one hand on her stomach as she stared across the room, out the open doorway. “Just someone I used to know.”

Regarding the several meanings that could have, he asked, “Did he die?”

“No.” There was little emotion in her tone. “But he’s gone. Left town several months ago.”

“Do you want me to go find him?” The question surprised him. Her, too, it appeared, when she turned, looked up at him astonished.

“No, Carter.” She was still unemotional, almost detached, which was so unlike her.

“Is he married?”

“No.” There was a bit of dignity behind her answer.

“Did he ask you to marry him?”

Fidgeting, she didn’t answer right away, and when she did speak, it included a desolate gaze that stung him.

“He wanted me to abandon my sisters.” Waving a hand about, she added, “To sell out and leave everything behind.”

Carter shook his head, regretful that there was a man out there that incredibly stupid and, at the same time, thankful the man had been—whoever he was—as foolish as they come.

“I couldn’t do that.”

“He shouldn’t have asked you to,” Carter answered, distracted slightly by the antagonism simmering inside him.

A miniature grin wobbled as it filtered across her lips, but then she bowed her head. “That was over a year ago.”

“How can that be?” he asked, referring to her condition.

She propped an elbow on the counter and rested her chin in her palm. “Some days I don’t even know, Carter.”

He didn’t like how lost she sounded, how alone and hopeless she appeared, and wanted to go to her, but he had nothing to offer. There was also his training, it had kicked in, and he knew if he touched her now, made any movement, she might clam up. Remaining silent and still, he waited.

Her sigh hung in the air, and then, just about when he thought she wasn’t going to say anything, she started, “One evening last spring, on a day when the world was against me, he appeared. I don’t know why I didn’t tell him to leave, other than I was tired. So tired of everything. He started talking about all the places he’d been, and the thought of having such freedom fascinated me. The more he talked, the more I could imagine myself in a different life. Selling all this, moving away.” She shrugged. “I thought I saw something in him I could love, but...”

Carter could imagine the seduction. She’d been dealt a rough hand when her parents died, leaving her with two younger sisters to care for, a mercantile to keep open and the railroad breathing down her neck. A man could easily have swayed her, wooed her with tales of beautiful countrysides and bustling cities. He knew what was on the other side though, of both the landscapes and the towns boasting prosperity, and had no doubt the other man knew too.

“But?”

“It wasn’t there,” she whispered. “What I thought I saw.”

“What happened...afterward?” he asked, not wanting to know the intimate details. They just might be more than he could tolerate.

“I realized my mistake. That people don’t change. That no one is going to swoop in and transform my life into a fairy tale of happily ever after like the stories Karleen reads.”

If there was one thing Carter could have told her, it would have been that she was wrong. People do change. He had. Not just recently, but years ago when he understood this was his only chance at life and it was up to him to redirect it. He’d forgotten that, in a credulous sort of way, but remembered it now, and hoped it wasn’t too late.

Carter didn’t say any of that because voices sounded outside the doorway. Four men bustled their way through the door and he moved to the end of the counter, where his gun belt lay on the shelf beneath the cash drawer. The pup he’d explained would someday be a good watchdog was still sleeping soundly in the box Ivy had placed near a front window before she’d left for church, and it didn’t offer so much as a wiggle. He’d have to start it on a training regimen soon.