That Certain Spark (2 page)

It took a couple of well-placed swipes before Piet hacked off the bottom quarter of the leather apron. He rose and picked up the tongs. “Now has come the time.”

“Do it.”
And, God, if you’re listening, please help me.
Gritting his teeth, Karl braced himself as his brother clenched the shard with the tongs. Just the contact hurt, yet when Piet began to pull, the tongs lost traction and slipped off.

Piet groaned.

Karl gritted, “Rubber band.”

With the aid of a rubber band’s traction, the tongs stayed in place on the second try. Piet dropped back down to his knees. “I cannot tell if out all of it came.”

“I can bandage it. Just grab a clean bandanna. I’ll be fine.”

“
Nee.
I’ll go get Velma.”

Karl gripped his brother’s forearm to keep him from dashing off. “Don’t bother. New doctor’s coming tomorrow. If I need help, he’ll be the one.”

“This is no bother. It’s important.”

Karl used his brother’s help to get back up on his feet. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as fire exploded in his leg.

“It is no bother for me to get Velma,” Piet repeated. “She is skilled enough to help you.”

“Don’t get her, Piet. I refuse to drop my pants for a woman healer.”

Huffing like a great asthmatic beast, the train pulled out of the last major stop before Gooding. Veterinarian Enoch Bestman cast a glance at the door to the bedroom of their Pullman car. Exhausted from a complicated emergency case, his twin—a physician—now slept with the same intensity their father and grandfather had after long nights working on patients.

Back in Chicago, Enoch had been champing at the bit. Nothing in particular triggered his restlessness, and in spite of a booming practice where he’d been content for four years, a feeling that he wasn’t where he was meant to be besieged him.

All of that was behind him. “ ‘Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing,’ ” Enoch quoted from the forty-third chapter of Isaiah. That verse had come to him right after he’d seen the advertisement from Gooding, Texas, for both a physician and a veterinarian. It couldn’t be more clear, and he hadn’t once doubted that this was God’s will for him and his twin.

A few strides carried him to the window. Land stretched out before him in a seemingly endless expanse, free and open instead of cramped and crowded. Every mile of progress the train made now carried him closer to a new life.

Lord, thank you for working out all of the details so Taylor would come. I praise your name for the opportunities awaiting us in the days and years ahead.

Taylor eventually emerged and stopped at the table for something to eat. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You needed the sleep.”

“If this town is as rural as we suspect, I’ll end up sleeping away the next four years.”

Enoch hitched his shoulder. “Then again, rural places without decent medical care could easily have a few very pressing cases waiting for the arriving physician.”

“And a rural town devoid of veterinary support must have citizens poised to pounce upon the vet as soon as he disembarks from the train, too.” Giving him a sly smile, Taylor added, “In a farming and ranching community, animals must outnumber people by a landslide. That being the case, your need for sleep will be far greater than mine.”

Enoch pinched half of the gingersnap from his twin and tossed it into his mouth.

“That was the last one!”

“They’ll undoubtedly have food for us in Gooding. Besides—” he flashed a grin—“I’m bigger and older.”

“Taller by a single inch and older only because you were pushy.”

“Hey!” He gave his twin an outraged look. “I was doing you a favor. Everyone knows they always spank the first twin the hardest.”

Taylor laughed. “Doctors don’t spank babies.”

“No?!”

“Enoch,” Taylor said, drawing out his name with greatly taxed patience, “human babies aren’t like the animals you treat—”

“My wee ones are much more talented. Seconds old, and they’re already standing. Minutes, and they’re taking their first steps.” Nodding, he professed, “Animals are much better off.”

“As I was saying, human babies are different. Babies’ little necks are weak. Even if they didn’t go flying—and that’s a frighteningly real possibility—”

“Frightening? Entertaining. All you’d have to do is have someone in the right place to catch them.”

His twin chuckled. “For a moment, you had me convinced you knew nothing about this.”

Enoch shrugged. “I don’t. I did think you doctors gave the kids a whack on the backside. I’m just as glad that you don’t. It’s always seemed that such a blow could cause irreparable damage to a newborn. You’d be wise to find a local woman to help you with the births. I wasn’t kidding about not knowing anything about the babies.”

Taylor’s green eyes glinted dangerously. “You’re tardy with that revelation. You pledged to assist me as needed since your medical knowledge far surpasses anything these people will have.”

The train began to slow. “I will assist you . . . with everything else.” Diverting attention, he gestured toward the window. “Look. There have to be at least thirty people here to meet us. I’m sure you’ll find a woman or two right there to help you out. And they hung a banner. ‘Welcome, Drs. Bestman.’ ”

“I’m going to appreciate the fact that they didn’t give in to the temptation of writing ‘Bestmen.’ Judging from those thunderheads, we’ll praise God that He sent all these neighbors to help us get things unloaded and moved before the weather turns.”

“Exactly.” The train stopped and they disembarked.

A portly man swaggered up with a woman in tow. “Welcome, welcome to Gooding! I’m Gustav Cutter, the mayor.”

Extending his hand, Enoch said, “Enoch—”

“The vet!” The mayor bellowed, “This here’s the one for all the critters, folks. And looks like he’s already got himself hitched to a right pretty filly.”

Surprise and temper glittered in Taylor’s eyes as she cast a hasty glance at Enoch. He’d negotiated the contracts and made the arrangements for their move to Texas.

Enoch murmured, “They know, Sis. Dr. Glendale’s letter of recommendation is clear about you being a woman.”

A look of relief smoothed her features before Taylor laughed. “My brother? Married? Oh, Mr. Cutter, after our long trip, that joke has to be the best welcome possible.”

“A fine welcome indeed!” Enoch took the cue. “Mr. Mayor, permit me to introduce my—”

“Tell us she’s your sister!” one of the men shouted.

“And that she ain’t hitched!” another added. Activity rippled through the other men standing behind the mayor. One twisted his moustache while two tried to tame wild-looking hair and another elbowed his way forward. Several stood taller.
I’m going to have my hands full keeping men away from Sis.

“Awww. She’s got powerful cute dimples,” one hapless man declared, thereby insuring Taylor would never extend anything more than civility toward him.

The mayor’s wife turned around and took a few steps back. “If you cannot summon together a few clear thoughts, at least scrape together a modicum of manners. You’ve interrupted Dr. Enoch Bestman when he was going to introduce this young lady. Of course she’s his sister. With that sable hair and the same smile, the family resemblance is quite clear. Miss Bestman wouldn’t have come with her brothers if she were married.”

“Yeeee-haw!” One of the cowboys grabbed Mrs. Cutter and swung her around.

The mayor went to rescue her.

Smiling at Enoch through gritted teeth, Taylor hissed, “What have you gotten us into? She said
brothers
. Plural.”

He’d picked up on that, too. They’d have to brazen their way through this. Apologizing to her or acting worried would make it worse. Instead, he resorted to teasing. “Don’t suppose you have a tonic that’d make you instantly sprout a beard, do you?”

Taylor’s eyes widened and her lips twitched with suppressed laughter. “All the times I threatened to swipe a pair of your trousers but you told me to take pride in being a woman, and now you’re trying to pass me off as a man in a skirt?”

Spirit. Gumption. Humor. He’d never been more proud of her. “Forget it. You’re stronger than any man I know. Whatever lies ahead, we’ll face it together.”

“From the looks of things, it’s a good thing God’s with us.”

Mopping his face with a monogrammed handkerchief, Gustav Cutter returned with his wife in tow. “I beg your pardon. Dr. Bestman, you were going to introduce us to your sister and to your . . . twin.” The mayor craned his neck to look past Taylor toward the train as he spoke the last word. “Where is he?”

Enoch cupped Taylor’s elbow. “Mr. Cutter, permit me to introduce my twin, Miss Taylor MacLay Bestman.”

Two

T
win.” The mayor’s eyes bulged, then his complexion took on a decidedly ruddy cast.

“The doctor is a woman!” a young woman blurted out gleefully.

Taylor nodded at her. “Indeed, I am.”

A knot of men formed off to one side. They kept casting hostile glances at her. It took no imagination to figure out what they were discussing.

“You’re Dr. Taylor Bestman.” Mayor Cutter looked in dire need of a dyspepsia remedy.

Taylor gave the mayor a cool businesslike smile and pretended he’d actually welcomed her. “It’s a pleasure to be invited to Gooding. Unless there are any pressing medical or veterinary cases waiting, my brother and I would be delighted to meet our new neighbors before unloading our supplies and taking them to the clinic. You’re all busy, hardworking people, and we’re honored you came to greet us. Aren’t we, Enoch?”

“Yes.” Enoch nodded politely toward Mrs. Cutter. “Though I’m not married, Mr. Cutter, let me congratulate you on finding such a lovely filly of your own.”

During a few more introductions and a proper word or two, the crowd thinned tremendously. At least a dozen men cast dark looks at Taylor and stomped off.

Enoch rested his hand on her shoulder and said to no one in particular, “We’ve freighted a considerable amount of goods with us on the train.”

“I’ll be happy to help cart your things to the clinic.” A man stepped forward. “Daniel Clark. I own the mercantile.”

“And I’m Millicent—Millie, his wife.” A woman with windswept curls shifted a bright-eyed toddler to her other hip. “While the men see to that, I’ll take the doctor over so she can see the place.”

The tension in Taylor’s shoulder eased slightly
. Even with an awkward start, we’ll make this work.
“How very kind of you.”

Taylor followed Millie and two other ladies who joined her, but they let the doctor enter the building first. Wide open double doors off to the left showcased a surgery that left Taylor breathless. She hastened in and made a rapid assessment of the instruments and layout. “This is magnificent!”

“You have Velma to thank.” Millie nodded toward the older, squatty woman. “She ordered, organized, and cleaned everything. Until now, we’ve depended on her for all of our medical care.”

Velma seized the opportunity and took control. “Millie, take Doc on upstairs and show her around. Doc, to my reckoning, you’ve got four minutes before the men plow in here with all your stuff.”

“Less than that, Velma,” said the pregnant woman by the wall, tugging the toddler away from Millie. “I told Tim no one was eating until all of the Bestmans’ possessions are delivered.”

“That was clever of you, Mrs. . . . ?”

“Creighton. But do call me Sydney.”

“Syd, if you’re going to hold Millie’s little Arthur, you sit on down,” the bossy older woman fussed.

Taking the opening, Taylor smiled. “When are we going to welcome your little baby?”

Velma bristled and interposed herself between Sydney and Taylor. “I’m right glad to have you here, Doc. I’ve done my best by folks, but times I knew my best wasn’t good enough, I bundled ’em up and put ’em on the train to go to a genuine doctor. But the midwiving—no need for you to horn in on that.”

Managing a polite smile with her firmest tone, Taylor said, “The mother-to-be deserves to select who gives her care. Millie, I’m ready to look at the upstairs of this splendid place.”

Taylor climbed to the second level. In the first chamber she ran her hand along the floral-carved cherry footboard. “What a spectacular bed!”

“It is pretty, isn’t it?”

While Millie Clark watched, Taylor closed the navy blue curtains. “I couldn’t hope for more. If I’m out on an all-night call or have an emergency midnight surgery, being able to block out the sunlight and sleep in the daytime is a blessing.”

“Of course! That makes sense.” Millie whirled around. “Over here’s your brother’s room.”

“Enoch’s an early riser. He’ll appreciate the east window.”

The woman started toward the hall. “We thought you could use this last one as a patient room if need be.”

“How charming!” Taylor looked into the third bedroom, a huge room with several cots ready for patients. “You ladies outdid yourselves in readying things for our arrival. I’m most appreciative.”

A loud thud sounded downstairs. “The thing that will make the men most appreciative is dragging everything in here as quickly as possible. We’ve a lovely spread laid out over at Old Mrs. Whitsley’s. Everyone’s supposed to go eat as soon as the crates are all in.”

“Then I’d best go help make room.” Sydney had mentioned the food, too. After having had nothing more than half a cookie in a long while, Taylor needed no encouragement to hasten things along. Quickly descending the stairs, she found Daniel Clark dumping a second crate into the surgery.

“Dr. Bestman, your brother said these boxes were the most important.” He accepted a crowbar from his wife and proceeded to pry off the tops.

“Thank you, gentlemen. Could you please take that to the first bedchamber on the right?” As the men carried up a heavy steamer trunk, Taylor murmured to Velma, “Do we normally keep a crowbar here?”

“Haven’t the faintest. I only ordered the instruments and supplies. Once that quack we just sent packing got here, the good Lord only knows what’s gone on.” As she spoke, Velma reached into the first crate and pulled out test tubes and microscope slides. “Put these off to the far corner. That’s where the other stuff like this is.”

Taylor didn’t take kindly to being ordered around in her own surgery—even if that was exactly where she would have placed the items.
But she’s the one I have to thank for this place being outfitted so spectacularly.
“Actually, it’s ludicrous for me to unpack my supplies whilst there’s so much else demanding my attention. Thanks to you, the surgery is in outstanding form.”

Face alight, Velma nodded. “It’s good to know you understand what all went behind setting this up. The doctor we had here before you didn’t appreciate half of what he had and didn’t know what the other half was. That nitwit like to destroyed it all.”

Sydney cast an unreadable glance about the room. “For the first time in her life, Velma’s not being blunt. This place was a medical pigsty. Dr. Wicky shoved all sorts of boxes and bottles and bandages and instruments into the armoires and dumped them in heaps over in the corners.”

“After I’d taken such pains to set up such a fine clinic for him! Hmpf! And the junk he’d brought in! Dr. Meldon’s magnetic girdle.”

“For the treatment of social ills and baldness.” Sydney giggled. “I couldn’t believe it when Orville drove up and took all that worthless garbage.”

“I believed it. Mark my words. That misfit’ll be using the quack’s machines on folks any day now. I shoulda had Big Tim bash and burn ’em all. Anyway, I came in and tried to reorganize things again while the others cleaned.” Velma stepped to the side. Reverently pulling open a drawer, she revealed white cotton cloth covering several long slender bundles of instruments. “Most of all, I sterilized everything so it’s all ready for you in case of an emergency. Boiled and double wrapped.”

“Exactly as I would have prepared them.” Taylor smiled. “I know it took a lot of time, and I thank you again—”

“Pshaw,” Velma interrupted as she shut the drawer. “Anytime you need help on a hard case, you just call for me.”

“I’ll definitely keep you in mind.” Taylor smoothly turned the tables. “Likewise, I’m available should any case of yours be difficult.”

“Things’re gonna work out just fine between us, Doc. Clicky! Don’t go dumping that down there. Haul it on upstairs.”

Taylor pulled her black wool skirts close and squeezed between the crates. Looking at the tall, gangly man, she raised her brows. “Clicky, is it?”

“Yes’m. Or Miss. I mean Doctor. I’m really Clive Keys, but since I run the telegraph, folks gave me the handle of Clicky.”

“Well, Mr. Keys, I’d very much appreciate your taking that big load of things up to either of the bedchambers. I’ll sort through it all later.”

“Your brother said you would. And he asked me to tell you he’s hauling a mess of his stuff over to the livery. Hey!” He turned to the side and barked at a pair of older schoolboys. “Ozzie and Lloyd, set that box down before you drop it!”

Trunks, crates, and barrels flooded into the place over the next half hour. When Enoch showed up, Taylor smoothed her hair and turned toward Sydney, who was merrily arranging the family china in a solid-looking buffet. “I believe we should gather up all of these hardworking men and go on over for that dinner now.”

The words scarcely left her mouth before her neighbors stampeded out the door. Their haste was all for naught, however. Upon their arrival to Old Mrs. Whitsley’s home, Velma scolded, “You all go to the pump and wash up. Everybody knows the guest of honor eats first anyhow. Parson Bradle’s gonna ask a blessing.”

A suitably short prayer ensued, given the men’s hunger and a warning clap of thunder. The words were clearly heartfelt enough not to require senseless embellishment, and the pastor said amen.

Millie handed her a plate and urged, “Get started! Everyone’s waiting to go after you.”

“It all looks delicious.”
And I’m ravenous. This is going to be the last decent meal I’ll eat until we get a housekeeper.
“I don’t know how I’ll ever decide what to take. I’m sure you ladies are talented cooks.”

“Take some of everything and be quick about it.” Velma gave her a stern look. “You’re not in the city, where women eat like birds.”

Mrs. Whitsley patted her arm. “The ladies will be insulted if you don’t taste what they brought.”

Enoch immediately charmed the dear Old Mrs. Whitsley right out of her shoes, insisting upon carrying a plate for her and teasing her about the tiny servings she took. “Now, where would you and your bitty bites and dibby dabs like to go?”

Mrs. Whitsley brushed aside his sweet talk. “I’m going to sit right there in the parlor by the window. Doctor, you come sit by me. Your brother can wander off, but I aim to have a word with you.”

Taylor sat beside the old woman, put her own plate aside, and took the shawl from the arm of the settee. Wanting fresh air shouldn’t mean chilling old bones into arthritic pain. Wrapping the length of soft wool about the old woman’s frail shoulders, Taylor praised, “You have a lovely home.”

After a few moments of polite chatter, the hostess tapped Taylor’s wrist. “Velma’s been treating all of us for so long, she was wary about you coming. I don’t know what’s transpired, but you’ve certainly won her over.”

“On occasion it will be helpful to have a pair of capable hands.” Determining just how capable Velma was when it came to actual medical practice was a whole different matter. Nevertheless, a willing person could be taught . . . unless they thought they already knew everything. Then those so-called practitioners became the bane of every physician’s existence.

Others joined them in the parlor. Like a child who couldn’t wait until after his meal for dessert, Clicky took a huge bite of pecan pie. “It’s going to be confusing for us to have two Dr. Bestmans.”

“Initials—” Taylor started.

“—would be stuffy,” Enoch cut in, settling the argument they’d had on the train. His eyes glinted.
I win.
“My sister is Dr. Bestman. I’m Doc Enoch.”

Two can play at that game.
“Just as we’ll refer to his veterinary barn as the clinic and the place for humans as the surgery.” Since she’d run a clinic and also had a surgery in Chicago, Enoch wanted her to have nothing less here. He’d simply wanted his veterinary place referred to as a barn.

“We’ll raise the clinic this Saturday,” the mayor said.

“The almanac calls for rain on Saturday,” a farmer said. “How ’bout Monday? It should be clear by then. Parson Bradle could remind folks about it at the Sunday meeting, too,” a farmer suggested.

“Monday it is, then,” the mayor agreed.

“Stop right there, you varmints!” Velma’s booming voice caught everyone’s attention.

“Hooo-eeey! Set this aside and give me my cane!” Old Mrs. Whitsley shoved her plate at Taylor and twisted around with the agility of a woman one-third her age.

A knot of men halted on the porch steps. As the parlor jutted out perpendicular to the house, the porch wasn’t but a couple of feet away from them. Swiftly placing her plate on the adjacent table and turning, as well, Taylor looked out the window.

“This dinner’s to welcome the doctors,” Velma said from the doorway, flapping her arms at the men as if they were nothing more than pesky children underfoot.

“This ain’t your place, you bossy old woman, and we’re not going away.”

“You’ve got a whale of a lot of nerve, turning your back on the doctors, not helpin’ move their things, then showin’ up just to eat all the vittles.”

“Stuff all got moved anyhow,” one of the men mumbled.

“And the food will all get eaten somehow, too.” Velma folded her arms across her chest and nodded as if to say, “You can’t argue with that.”

“It’s rainin’ out here, Velma.”

Mrs. Whitsley stuck her cane out the open window and poked the first man on the arm. “You’re not so sweet you’ll melt, Orville. And if you had the sense God gave a gnat, you’d know better than to show up here.”

Just then, Big Tim Creighton and Daniel Clark bracketed the man and escorted him out to the property line.

Mrs. Whitsley patted Taylor’s hand. “No matter where you go, there are good sorts and bad ’uns. Orville there tried to cheat me and a couple of other widows outta money. If ever he sets foot in your office, make sure you got your brother or one of the men you see in here now with you.”

“In my profession, discretion is essential, and I’m careful to exercise it at all times. Nonetheless, I appreciate wise counsel such as yours.”

Gnarled fingers played with the cane. “The wisdom is from the Lord. Any foolishness is all mine.” The old woman got up, then paused. “If you find a cure for old age, you let me know.”

“I’ll do that as soon as you’re old enough to need one.”

The men out on the porch had formed a huddle. “Y’all got rid of Orville. Now how ’bout lettin’ us in? We promise we’ll help build the barn for the vet.”