That Certain Spark (16 page)

She shook her head—an adamant move. “You’re not going to scare me, Karl. It was probably just what I hypothesized: the work of a drunken fool. If not, it was a stupid stunt, nothing more. I refuse to let my mind be taken captive by your wild imaginings.”

He stepped back. Had he overreacted? The jumble of instruments and soiled cloths in the drawer was at complete odds to the pristine order she maintained. But a drunken fool might well have fumbled and done something idiotic like that.
The woman’s living all by herself—undoubtedly for the very first time in her life, and here I am, scaring her.

“Get rid of the men.” He almost purred the words. “Because then we can eat the food from the wedding. Until they’re gone, you don’t want to get out the food—they’ll eat it all!”

“I ate enough to last me for a month of Sundays. Since they’re all asleep, you don’t have to worry about their discovering I have food on the premises. Go ahead and help yourself . . . but then you need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving. By those very stairs. That’s where I’m staying tonight.”

“So you’re staying upstairs and you’ll mind them tonight?”

He gave her an irritated look. “I have no skills with sick people. You will sleep in the parlor. I brought down a blanket for you. For the night, I will sit in a chair to ensure that all will be well. It is not right for you to be alone in the house with men.”
She ought to appreciate that. None of the chairs in this place look very comfortable.

“Your logic is faulty. You’re a man.”

Standing with arms akimbo, he glowered at her. “Everyone knows my character. They know I would not act in an untoward manner.”
Even if the doctor is a woman. A young woman. A pretty young woman.
He ran a hand through his hair.
I can keep an eye on things. If those men so much as let a shadow fall outside the door of that room . . .

“This situation has to be accepted,” she said. “It’s not going to change.”

Intentionally misunderstanding her, he bobbed his head. “I agree. You must accept that this cannot be permitted. It puts you in danger.”

“I sat at your bedside all through the night after your surgery. Tremendously high fevers and high-risk wounds require vigilant care.”

He didn’t want to know she’d been by his bedside all night. The feelings that stirred up were ones he didn’t want to untangle and examine.

Being beholden to anyone didn’t settle well. And to a woman? Especially for the kind of gentle care he now knew she gave? “Troublesome woman!”

She had the nerve to let out a small laugh. “Maybe I’m not entirely different from other women after all. I understand men universally believe the women around them are troublesome, if not entirely impossible.”

Exasperating.
Her clever mind came up with fine humor, but at a time when he couldn’t possibly enjoy it. “I won’t be distracted from the topic by your humor. While your brother lived here it was marginally acceptable for you to have some kinds of male patients. Now it is out of the question.”

“Karl, I don’t tell you how to run your smithy. Don’t tell me how to run my practice.”

“You can’t run it if you’re dead.”

“I can’t run it if my patients are dead, either. You forget, Karl, that I must make the most of every opportunity to prove my doctoring skill. Time is . . . well, three months isn’t long.”

“Here we go.” Widow O’Toole bustled in through the kitchen door as though she’d been invited. “I thought we might need a few extra quilts tonight.”

“That was most thoughtful of you, Eunice.” Taylor gave Karl a victorious smile.

“Ja, it was. Here. I will claim this one. You ladies will downstairs remain while I go upstairs. If there is need, I’ll get the doctor.” Karl flashed a smirk at her and headed upstairs.

Her voice trailed after him. “It’s too bad, since all the great food is down here.”

His step barely hesitated. “I’ll make a tray for you, Karl,” the widow pledged, and he let loose a low chuckle of victory.

Early the next morning Karl stretched the kinks out of his back and yanked on his boots. Delicious aromas lured him downstairs. It wouldn’t be long before he was waking up to decent breakfasts.
Well, maybe not soon, but perhaps not all that long. What am I thinking?
He shook his head. The doctor was interesting and intelligent and . . . very challenging to be around. Pretty. Definitely pretty. What did it matter that she was a doctor if she could still be a fine wife and a good cook and a loving mother? All of those things would make for a happy home. He needed to think more about it. Yes, he did need to think more about it.

And goodness, she made sure his coffee cup stayed full of the best-tasting coffee he could remember drinking in ages. That should have made him deliriously happy—but she did the same for the three shamefaced, now-sober men at the breakfast table. Widow O’Toole was gone, but instead of serving leftover wedding dessert for breakfast, which didn’t sound like a bad idea to him because he knew the bachelors would have been satisfied with it, Dr. Bestman had gotten up early, made flapjacks, and put them in the warmer. All three of those idiots started making cow eyes at her. Karl herded them out before their plates were clean.

He walked back in. “For being smart, that was about as boneheaded as you could have been. All these men want a woman who can cook. You should have scorched the coffee and burned the food!”

“I’ll remember that the next time.”

“There’s not going to be a next time!” Karl stomped out and slammed the door.

The day kept building from that morning’s set-to. At school lunchtime, the teacher cut an apple and sliced her palm. Karl had been installing another coatrack at the school and told her the doc wouldn’t mind her bringing all the kids over to sit and watch her get stitched and bandaged up. As Taylor motioned for the kids to enter the surgery, Lloyd Smith remained in the doorway with some other students, hanging on to his siblings, his face pale. He whispered, “I’m sorry. Dad doesn’t . . .”

The teacher smiled warmly at Taylor. “Don’t worry about me, Lloyd. The doctor is a woman, and so am I. Besides, I need someone to stitch this. I can’t do it myself.”

He transferred his worried gaze toward Taylor. “Are you good at sewing?”

“I’m better at sewing people than clothes.”

“Wow!” one of the kids shouted. “A pirate bone man!”

That did it. The younger ones broke free and ran inside to see the skeleton. Lloyd came in, but he was also the first one back out. Taylor finished with the teacher, and as the group left, Karl rode up in the buggy. “You need to tend to a couple of cowhands on Checkered Past. Don’t know exactly what the problem is.”

Depending on who told the story, the fight had started over a deck of cards, some cigarettes, or a woman. As soon as she got there, Taylor knew she had a handful of fighters who’d been egged on by others. Karl bristled and tried to stand between her and the men. Tapping him on the back, she said, “If you’ll stand to the side, I’ll do what I must.”

“By standing here, I’m doing what I must.”

“Nonsense. Watch.” She opened her medical bag and took out a pewter flask. “I’ll treat the wounded here. If anyone dares raise his voice, I’ll apply this to his scalp.”

“What is it?” someone shouted.

“Come read the label for yourself.”

The cowboy got there and lifted the flask. “It’s a big word,” he mumbled.

“It’s two small words put together.” Taylor took a few more things from her bag.

“Rrrring. Ring. WWorrr-ummm. Ring worm. Ringworm.” He looked proud of himself as he announced it, then his features twisted in outrage. “Ringworm!”

No one made a sound the entire time that she was treating the injured cowboys.

As they left, she shot Karl a look. “I ought to pour this on your scalp.”

“You would give me ringworm?”

“That’s doubtful. This smells so atrocious, ringworm would run away. I put a ring of worms around it as I filled it with the most obnoxious fluid I could concoct, so the name is honest. Brawn is a fine thing, Karl, but since I lack it, I use my brains. You need to have faith that I can handle these situations.”

“In this case, I admit things turned out well. It does not mean it would always be so. Why did you say you should pour this on my head?”

Taylor slanted Karl an exasperated look. “I told you last night not to run my practice. Last night and at breakfast, you took it upon yourself to try to get rid of my patients. Then you invited the whole school to come in!”

“Ja. This was fun!”

“No, Karl. You know there are families where I see the mother, yet the father disapproves of women physicians. Children shouldn’t be put in the middle.”

Karl scraped some mud off his boots. “Each day when I see my scar, I realize the same injury only three months earlier would have killed me. Doc Wicky would have cauterized my leg and left the metal inside. The children—if they see you doing the job with their own eyes, when they grow older, they will remember you are able. I wasn’t thinking of now. I was thinking of the future.”

She inhaled slowly. Deeply. “Karl, that was the kindest, most hopeful thing I’ve heard since I arrived in Gooding.”

“Never mistake my misgivings about your profession—they aren’t regarding your abilities. The proof of your skill is undeniable. You should know I have put my name on your list.”

Her heart did a little jig, but she knew he didn’t want her to make a fuss. “Thank you, Karl. I know that’s been a difficult decision for you.”

“Ja, it has been. I fear because of the dangerous situations in which you put yourself. Just as I said your skill is undeniable, a man’s nature when he’s around a beautiful woman is also undeniable.” He paused and looked directly into her eyes, his gaze holding hers. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Immediately she turned away.
Oh no. He didn’t. He can’t feel that way.
“We’d better get going. We have to stop by the Richardson farm, and you don’t want to be stuck there at suppertime.”

Almost two hours later, Dr. Bestman ordered, “Karl, stop the buggy.”

“Why?” He gave her a piercing look as he tugged back on the reins. The last thing he wanted to do was turn around and go back to the Richardson farm. Mama Richardson had a to-do checklist for Marcella’s and Katherine’s wedding. Every bachelor around knew “Lasso groom for Linette” and “Change from double to triple wedding” topped that list. She’d just changed the date to Valentine’s Day, and everyone knew the reason was to allow more time to achieve that goal. He’d barely managed to haul Doc out of there before Mama Richardson had arranged an afternoon of charades and an evening of recitations.

Lifting the earthenware lid to a crock in her lap, Dr. Bestman said, “I can’t wait any longer. I didn’t get any lunch. Did you?”

“Does that ever matter?” Karl reached under the seat to get the forks and spoons they’d started carrying. “Skyler, down.” The collie hopped down and raced around.

Taylor said grace. They’d started taking turns praying when they paused for one of these quick buggy picnics. Asking God to bless the food was straightforward enough—and that was all he did when it was his turn. On the other hand, the doctor took a few extra sentences to praise God, to thank Him, and to seek His guidance and wisdom. It wasn’t ever more than just a few lines—heartfelt words that indicated a connection with the Lord that Karl knew he himself lacked.