The Marshal Takes A Bride (16 page)

The thought shocked her. Did she still love him? Quickly she pushed the idea out of her head. He had broken her heart once, and she would be damned if she would let him have a second go at her fragile organ.

Their first encounter had left her shaken and with a son that she loved dearly. The second time around would be even more devastating when he chose wandering over staying with her.

“So who should I go to next,” he asked, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

“Oh, Tucker, I just don’t think this is a good idea. I’m not interested in finding a husband.”

“Why not? Your son needs a father,” he said.

“He has a mother and a grandfather. The boy is well taken care of,” she replied, a hint of irritation in her voice.

“Yes, but he needs to be taken fishing, and when he’s older, he’ll need to be taught how to hunt, how to take care of a horse. There are just so many things that the boy will need to know.”

“I think I can handle most of them, Tucker,” she said, defensiveness edging her voice.

“If you were going to stay around here, I could teach him.”

Her heart lurched into her throat at the thought of Tucker unknowingly teaching his son all the things a man needed to know.

“I can’t. I’m going home to Tombstone just as soon as Doc Wilson is well. I’m going to take Kira with me.”

“Yes, well, it’s time I was moving on anyway. I hope to be leaving soon myself.”

This was why he would always be a man on the move, never staying long in one place, with no permanent ties or commitments. She couldn’t help but feel angry that once again he couldn’t see that there was so much right here in Fort Worth for him. Right in front of his eyes, if only he would open them.

“What is it about wandering you enjoy so much, Tucker?” she asked, irritated. “Why do you want to leave people you care about?”

He nodded. “I’ve always wanted to see other parts of the country. I’ve told you before how I want to be different from my brothers. I want to be me.” “But didn’t you get that when you were younger? Back in your gunslinging days? You have a good job. Why not stay in Fort Worth?”

He glanced at her, frowning as he shrugged. “It just doesn’t seem very exciting to stay in one place the rest of my life. Everyone gets married, has children and settles down. I want to be different I want to do unusual things. See new places.”

“Why couldn’t you do that with a wife and children?” she asked.

“Because then you’re tied down. You have to work. You have to take care of the children and support your wife.” He pulled on the reins and slowed the horse as they rounded a curve.

“So you think being a family man would become a chore, a duty?” she asked.

He turned toward her and said, “Yes, I do.”

Sarah gazed out as the countryside sped by, her heart in her throat. He didn’t want the accountability of taking care of a family. Even now his avoidance of responsibility seemed to drive his decisions, just as it had in Tombstone. Only this time he wasn’t a wounded gunslinger, but rather a grown man with a penchant for danger and an aversion to dependability.

Once they reached the Melboumes’, Sarah sighed and climbed out of the buggy. It was time to go to work and do the job she loved, but she had wanted just a few more moments alone with Tucker. Just a few more moments to point out to him his avoidance of responsibility, to point out the value of family, to share with him a cute story about his son.

Chapter
Nine

Tucker watched as Sarah spoke with Mrs. Melbourne, amazed at Sarah’s gentle nature, the way she listened to her patients, making them feel special. She had always had a way with people, since they were children.

“I’m going to listen to your chest, and I want you to take several deep breaths,” Sarah explained. She put her stethoscope against the woman’s chest, listening for the sounds of her breathing.

She repeated the process by putting the metal cup against the woman’s clothed back. Sarah’s face was intense as she listened to the woman’s lungs. She came around to face the woman and sat down in front of her. “How have you been feeling?”

“I’ve been coughing a lot lately, and I’m so tired. I just can’t seem to get enough rest,” Mrs. Melbourne complained.

“You have fluid in your lungs, which is not good. I want you to nap every afternoon for at least two hours, plus I want you to walk every day. You need to get exercise or that fluid will continue to build.”

“I don’t have time to take a nap in the afternoon. My family needs me,” the woman replied, pushing back a strand of wayward hair.

Sarah took her patient’s hands in hers, gazing at her as if there were no one else in the room, and explained slowly and softly, “Mrs. Melbourne, your life is at risk. You have consumption, and if you don’t take care of yourself, the fluid will continue to build until your lungs are full.”

“Doesn’t everyone die when they get consumption?” the woman responded.

“No. Some people get well. But you have to take care of yourself, and that means rest, eating healthy foods and exercise to keep the fluid down. ”

“But my family . . . ,” she protested.

“Your family has to understand. You could die if you don’t take care of yourself. I’d be happy to wait and talk with your husband,” Sarah offered, staring sympathetically at Mrs. Melbourne.

“No. I can tell him. I know you’re busy.”

“Now, I want you on a diet of meat, milk and vegetables. Walk each day until you feel tired, and then rest. You’ve got to get plenty of sleep.”

“And this will cure me?” Mrs. Melbourne asked again.

“There’s a chance.” Sarah paused and waited expectantly, her attention focused on the woman. “Do you have any other questions?”

“No. It’s just that Doc Wilson never told me I had a chance of living,” she said, puzzled. “I thought I was going to die, so why even try to get better?”

“For many years we didn’t think a person with consumption could survive, but now there’s hope.” She stood and patted Mrs. Melbourne on the back. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to examine your children while I’m here.”

“Please do,” Mrs. Melbourne said, before a coughing spell took her breath away.

“Any handkerchiefs that you spit up blood and phlegm on, don’t let anyone in the family touch. My recommendation would be to burn them or wash them in boiling water with the strongest soap you have.”

“Okay,” Mrs. Melbourne said breathlessly.

Sarah stood and walked to the children. “Who wants to be brave and go first?”

“I do,” the little girl cried. “I’m not afraid.”

“Good, there’s nothing to be afraid of”

Tucker sat back and watched as Sarah talked to the children and listened to their lungs. She checked their throats and looked in their ears.

She was the smartest person he had ever met, and he admired the way she did her job. For as long as he could remember she had wanted to be a doctor. But then, her father had been a physician, and she had traveled with him for awhile.

This was the life she was meant for, a country doctor caring for the townspeople. She didn’t need to go back to Tombstone. These people were her family and friends. These people should be her patients, not some no-account gunslinger who’d taken a bullet.

And if she stayed, he could watch over her. But how could he do that when he was leaving? He pushed the thought away, his mind drifting back to the times when they were children growing up.

When she graduated from that fancy school, she had wound up in Tombstone of all places, patching up gunslingers, doctoring whores and trying to help Indians. She was such a do-gooder, and for years he had been just the opposite. They were like night and day, and he wondered how they had stayed friends all these years. What kept them coming back to one another, except fate?

He feared he would never be smart enough or good enough for Sarah, yet they were still friends.

He admired the way she was tough and bright. The way she listened as though the one speaking was the only other person in the world. She was genuine and caring. And he admitted she wasn’t too bad on the eyes either. Motherhood had finished shaping her hips, and her curves were in all the right places. She was sharp, she was beautiful and she needed a man to marry and settle down with.

He cleared his throat, that thought suddenly making him nervous. Sarah glanced up at him, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her blue eyes were smoky and warm, and then she went back to her exam.

God, when she looked at him that way, he could feel the heat of her gaze all the way to his toes. It was a wonder there wasn’t smoke coming out the tips of his boots.

As she finished looking in the young boy’s throat, she reached down and tickled him, making the child laugh.

She looked up and noticed Tucker watching her, and for just a moment they stared across the room at each other. An image of them naked and in bed together came to mind, and quickly he glanced away.

The urge to cross the room and kiss her was almost overwhelming. He wanted so much to just taste her one more time. To run his hand down the velvety smoothness of her skin, to taste the honeydew sweetness of her lips. But that would be way out of line for a cowboy who was determined to remain a bachelor.

“Mrs. Melbourne, your children seem very healthy,”

Sarah said, jolting him back from his mind’s exploration of her body. “I intend to come back and check on you again before Doc Wilson returns to his practice. So I should see you again in two or three weeks. If you need me before then, send word and I’ll come.”

“Wait here, just a minute,” the woman called, and hurried out of the living quarters of the house.

They stood there waiting for about five minutes before she ran back in with a basket. “Here, I want you to have this. It’s not much; but it’s after lunch, and you’ve spent the entire morning here with us.”

Sarah took the basket. “Thank you. It smells delicious.”

“It’s such a beautiful day outside, maybe you and the marshal could stop by Pecan Creek and have a picnic,” Mrs. Melbourne said.

Tucker nodded and took Sarah by the elbow, leading her out the door. “Thanks for the basket, Mrs. Melbourne. Hope you get to feeling better.”

They walked out the door, and he helped Sarah up into the buggy and then crawled in behind her. They waved to the woman and her children, who had come out to watch them leave, and Tucker called to the horse.

“Yeehaw!”

With a lurch the vehicle rolled out of the yard and back toward the road to town.

“Will she get better?” he asked.

“Depends on whether her body can fight off the disease. But without the proper food and rest, she’ll be dead within the year.” Her voice was calm and steady. “I hate losing patients.”

He reached out and patted her on the leg, somehow wanting to give her comfort. The feel of her leg beneath his hand was warm and arousing.

She gazed at him, one brow lifted in surprise. He pulled his hand back, flabbergasted by his comforting gesture. What was he thinking? Reaching out and touching to console her?

But worse, he had enjoyed the feel of her thigh beneath his fingers.

The next few miles they rode in silence, Tucker trying to comprehend the feelings that watching Sarah at work this morning had stirred. What was it about this woman? They were mere friends and nothing more. Yet when he was around her, it felt like so much more.

Tucker glanced over at Sarah, who sat gazing out at the countryside, the wind teasing wisps of her blond hair about her face. She was a beautiful woman, and he had already made the error of sleeping with her in Tombstone, though at the time he had enjoyed every minute. He was not about to repeat the same mistake, but her blue eyes were sparkling, her lips were so full and tempting and dang she looked good, even better than he remembered. And if the truth were told, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to be in her arms a second time.

Turning onto the main road back to town, Tucker noticed the sky was beginning to turn a robin’s egg blue off to the west. “Looks like the clouds are starting to build.”

“A little rain would be nice,” she said, tightening the strings on the bonnet she was wearing. “Did you want to stop and eat the food Mrs. Melbourne prepared for us?”

“Not with the way those clouds are beginning to look. Remember, it’s springtime in Texas.” He slapped the reins on the back of the horse. “I think we better get back to town, before we get caught in a frog choker.”

They were well over an hour from town, and the road to the Melboumes’ was rough from lack of use.

“Frog choker!” she said, her voice trailing off. “I haven’t heard that expression in a long time.” She laughed. “You know, you always were one to come up with the silliest expressions. It was one of the things I liked about you.”

She stared out at the countryside as if she had said too much.

“Why have we remained friends all these years, Sarah? We’re so different,” he said.

Her face turned, and she gazed at him in amazement. She laughed, the sound light and carefree. He hadn’t heard her laugh like that in years, and it reminded him of  when she was a young girl.

“What brought this on?” she asked. “I didn’t think you were a man who did too much thinking.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Watching you this morning with Mrs. Melbourne, I realized how different we are.”

“It’s hard for me to imagine you thinking about our friendship.” She paused and brushed back a strand of hair from her face. “Especially after . . . after you came to Tombstone.”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “I guess you regret me ... us doing what we did?”

She looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise at his question. “No. I don’t regret that night.” She paused, staring at him, her facial expression guarded. “I was hurt and disappointed that you left without saying good-bye. I had no expectations, but you’re leaving in the middle of the night made it seem cheap.”

He looked away, his eyes transfixed on the road in front of him. “It wasn’t cheap, Sarah. But I didn’t know what to say, so I left.”

“Good-bye would have been nice.”