That Certain Spark (9 page)

“You hush.” Taylor eyed their feathers. “Both of you ought to be the ones in the boiling oil, and you just might end up going to bed, too, as a nice fat pillow.”

Clip, clip, clip, clip.
The distinctive sound of the doctor’s purposeful footsteps approaching the smithy Saturday morning made Karl mutter to his dog, “If there was flint on the bottom of her heels, she’d strike sparks with every step.” Skyler wagged his tail.

Hat at a jaunty angle, hair tamed and her pelisse folded over one arm while she held her medical bag in the opposite hand, the doctor appeared and announced from the double doors, “I’d like a buggy prepared, please.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to the Ochoa residence.”

He didn’t challenge her on the
we
versus
I
. Instead, he eyed her critically. “Go change while I hitch up.”

“I’m ready to leave just as I am.”

“You cannot go thus.” His focus darted away. “Red—it is not a good color.”

She laughed! “I always wear red. Except for Fridays, my pharmacy and laboratory day, when I wear a shirtwaist that’s faded to pink. What difference does the outside make? ‘Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.’ ”

Karl couldn’t find the words to tell her what kind of women wore red. Shaking his head, he went to get the buggy. Years had passed since he’d been to church, and now that he’d started attending again, he hadn’t yet gone long enough to refresh his memory on all the stories. Though he’d hoped to remember names of the women of ill repute so he could cite them as examples as to the type who would be wearing red if they lived in Gooding, he couldn’t come up with a single name. Frustrated, he led the rig to the front. “Let’s go!”

Dr. Bestman had taken but a few steps before Skyler came running, scrambled up his familiar route, and perched atop the buggy. The doctor halted and gawked. “Call him down before he falls through!”

“He won’t. I reinforced the roof.”

“Nevertheless, we must be off.”

“Ja.”
This is going to be entertaining.
Karl folded his arms across his chest. “So get over here.”

Eyes huge, she stalked toward him. “You cannot mean to allow that animal to ride atop the buggy. It’s unsafe, for one thing. Furthermore, it’s undignified.”

“Skyler’s been riding up there since he was a pup, and he’s never been too worried about his dignity. I’m happy to have him ride along.”

“It doesn’t lend a professional appearance to my arrival,” she gritted.

“Are you not the one who just said the outside makes no difference? That man looks on the outside appearance, but God looks at the heart?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m going to have to watch every word I say around you.”

“Impossible. You talk far too much to succeed at that.”

“I’m not going to worry about you any longer, Karl Van der Vort. You’re feeling well enough to be ornery. It just serves to prove what a fine physician I am—even if I wear red shirtwaists.”

“How,” Karl asked as the buggy pulled out of town, “did your father ever permit you to become a doctor?”

“My mother did; being a physician himself, Father couldn’t very well disparage the profession.”

Shaking his head as if to dislodge what he’d clearly thought to be the unbelievable first part of her comment, Taylor couldn’t be certain he’d heard the second.

“That is even worse. Your mother—it is her place as a woman to keep the gentleness in your life. How could she permit this?”

Falling back on her stock answer, Taylor flashed him a disingenuous smile. “I’m pigheaded. It’s more a matter of her being wise enough to know she couldn’t stop me once I’d made up my mind.”

“When you confided your wishes to her, why did she not go to your father and plead with him to dissuade you?”

Taylor turned toward the blacksmith. Others had probed this same issue—quite rudely—but he seemed genuinely distressed.

Furrows lined his brow and sadness lowered and slowed his tone. “It was wrong of me to ask. How can you explain or apologize for how your parents behaved?”

“Apologize? There’s nothing at all wrong with the decision I made. As it happened, I didn’t tell my mother at first. I announced my decision at the breakfast table to both of my parents at the same time. Mother applauded.”

“You said your father was a physician.”

So he did hear me say that.
Taylor nodded and made a mental note of how Karl managed to hear and recall things, even when emotional. That was a good quality—one a doctor looked for in those who might be sought to assist in the event of an emergency.

“Yes, Father and Grandfather were both doctors.”

He gave her a meaningful look. “But not your mother or grandmother.”

Laughter bubbled out of Taylor. “Perish the thought! You would have adored my grandmother. The poor woman fought an ever-losing battle against the rest of the family when it came to respectability. As for Mother . . . Father appreciated having her accompany him to work twice a month to care for ‘shady ladies.’

They dedicated themselves to doing so in the name of Christ Jesus, who showed tender mercy to such women.”

“This all sounds respectable.”

“You’d think so, but plenty of people expressed opinions about it. My mother loved God with all her heart, but she managed to see omens and portents in just about everything around her. Father said as a man of science that even he knew there was sometimes a kernel of truth in a fairy tale. He humored Mother, and she returned the favor by indulging his whim to educate me alongside Enoch.”

“But your brother doctors animals.”

“Until college, we were tutored at home. In addition to all of the academic subjects, we were taught fencing, shooting, and riding.” Her features twisted. “They did, however, refuse to allow me to learn pugilism. I abhor violence, and the thought that Enoch was learning how to beat someone else appalled me. The notion that anyone might strike him incensed me such that I insisted Father or Grandfather go in order to render care if necessary.”

“Thus you were indulged, as well—not just with them tending your concern, but with them permitting you to pursue the peculiar notion of doctoring.”

She smiled. What a perfect opportunity God had given her! An intelligent man like Karl Van der Vort would come to accept her choice—even if he didn’t support it. “There’s a long family history of doctors—dating clear back to the MacLay healers of the Scottish Highlands—who were women. Becoming a healer is a family birthright. If you’re unaware, my middle name is Mac—”

“Your name is not your destiny. This is not Bible times; this is modern times.”

All hopes she had of him being reasonable fled. “Exactly. And in modern times, women can become doctors.”

“ ‘All things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient . . . all things edify not.’ That is what Parson Bradle preached from the Bible last Sunday. Just because you could do this thing—this becoming a doctor—that does not mean it was the only choice or the best one.”

Insufferable man! Sitting beside him in the buggy was trying every last bit of her patience. “How can you compare a desire to serve the needs of man with taking license and freedom to test the limits of God?”

Blond hair ruffled in the wind and he nodded curtly. “You have said this yourself—and thus, with your own words, you explain it all.” When she continued to boldly meet his eyes without backing down, he eased his bulky frame over the slightest bit while resting his hand on his thigh. “To serve the needs of man is not something a woman should do.”

It had been a while since she’d had this conversation. Each time it took a different path, and the challenge invariably invigorated her. From the start, Taylor had recalled the tutor’s first lesson on debate: Adhere at all times to fact and eschew emotion. Facts are incontrovertible; emotions are anything but. His words of wisdom rang true. Being defensive merely caused others to become more firmly entrenched in their stance, so she’d been careful not to engage in this conversation more than necessary. To lose this debate in the presence of others would cause a man to lose face. Without anyone else around, however, the debate was on.

“Could you please repeat yourself, Karl Van der Vort? I’m sure I must have misheard you.”

He stared at the horse’s tail. “To serve the needs of a man is not something a woman should do.” Color suddenly washed his neck and ears.

Laughter bubbled out of her. “I didn’t realize you had such a delightful sense of humor!”

Looking entirely taken aback, he gritted, “That was no joke.”

“But it had to be! Women spend their entire lives serving the needs of men.”

Karl shook his head. “It is the man’s place to work. He labors to meet the needs of those he loves.”

She was silent a minute. “I agree with you.” He gave her a startled look, but before he said anything, she continued on. “Yet I feel you’ve failed to credit women with the same loving dedication. Who cooks, cleans, does the laundry, gardens, and preserves food? I can see in your eyes you never thought of that as serving a man’s needs, but it is. As a man who spends his days by a blazing forge, I’d think you have a better appreciation than most of what it takes for a woman to have to cook meals, preserve foods, and stand over a boiling washpot for hours on end.”

“But that is for her man.”

“So a woman shouldn’t help a widower with these chores, just as a man would help a widow?”

Ice-blue eyes, the same shade as the inner flame of the Bunsen burner in the laboratory, glimmered with anger. “That’s different, and well you know it. You do no good playing such games with me. There are matters of decency.”

“And on matters of decency and propriety, I’m well versed. Since you’ve broached the topic, we’ll address it immediately.”

Ten

W
hat?!” Karl jerked on the reins so reflexively, the horse and buggy halted at once. His greater weight and widespread boots kept him anchored. Taylor, however, had no such advantages, so she grabbed the side of the buggy.

A bar of iron slammed across her body like a sash. As quickly as Karl’s arm shot over to keep her in place, he pulled it away. “I am sorry. Are you harmed?”

“I’m fine.” Suddenly she leaned forward and tried to get out of the buggy while scanning about them. “Skyler!” Taylor felt a flood of relief as a happy bark sounded from above.

Karl took hold of her elbow and gently pulled her back down onto the seat. “My dog—he is fine. He is used to riding atop the buggy.”

“I suppose he must be accustomed to your halting it that rapidly, as well, or he’d no longer be here.”

Karl went right back to looking livid. “You think I mistreat my horses?”

Apparently there was no winning with this man. She’d tried to be agreeable about how he’d endangered one animal only to have him get angry about the other. “Clearly, your horse is well trained. He responded immediately to your signal to halt even though you gave no verbal command.”

“Other men—they look upon your beauty and are easily misled by the truths you use to avoid answering questions. Trying that with me will get you nowhere.”

A short laugh erupted from her. For the first time in her life, someone other than a tutor or male relative had challenged her to a mental duel. The novelty of Karl’s tactics amused her because at the same time he was both complimenting her appearance and discounting it. Obstinacy personified, he sat there looking ready to throttle her for laughing.

“Surely you cannot mean to be so serious, Karl.” She waved her hand at their unchanging surroundings. “We’ve been sitting here as if neither of us has a thing in the world to do. I couldn’t help finding the humor in your assertion that my opinion wouldn’t get me anywhere. Do you always remark on the obvious?”

Nary a twitch of his lips hinted at a smile, and his eyes continued to bore into hers.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Taylor stared right back. Under normal circumstances, such bold behavior in a woman would make it clear she was not a lady. But these weren’t normal circumstances. Just because he owned the livery didn’t mean he could control her every visit to a patient. The welfare of all her future patients relied upon her defining where she stood. “Very well, then, I’ll take the reins—”

“You will not.” The quiet of his tone didn’t deceive her in the least. The deep bass that rumbled like a clap of thunder and the flash of lightning in his eyes told her she’d not been given a dare; she’d crossed a line and been put on notice.

Folding her hands in her lap, Taylor nodded. “I recognize that tone and look. I’ve used them myself when another physician has tried to horn in on one of my cases.” Her eyes widened, and she didn’t quite manage to choke back a moan.

He ignored the horse’s snort and head toss. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I did hurt you.” His words came out half accusation, half panic. Oblivious to the reins slithering away, he twisted toward her, jamming his elbow into her shoulder in the close confines of the small buggy. This time, he moaned.

“Don’t twist like that. It’s hard on your leg.”

“My leg is fine, and ladies don’t say
leg
.” His fingers rubbed across her shoulder—an odd sensation, that. Few men ever bothered to come close at all, and those who did invariably commented on her height. Karl didn’t give it passing consideration.

Only in that single second, she gave it plenty. “This is nonsense. I’m perfectly fine.”

“I’ll be the judge.” Instead of listening to her, he kept his fingers braced on her shoulder and tested her clavicle with his thumb. Worry clouded his eyes. “The collarbone—it does not feel cracked. You must tell me what hurts. I’ll take you to Velma.”

“Nothing hurts, save my pride. Before leaving Chicago, I promised myself I’d not absorb Western colloquialisms.”

Karl turned back into place, managing to bump her shoulder, elbow, and ankle in the process. “Velma will know how to treat this.”

“This one is Velma’s fault,” Taylor muttered. “Let me explain. Colloquialisms are regional sayings, like ‘horn in on.’ In less than a week, I’ve used one!”

“Ja, you have.” Karl bent to retrieve the reins. As he straightened, laugh lines radiated from the corners of his eyes. “It was just the first.”

“You don’t have to sound so pleased about it.”

The buggy shuddered with his deep chuckles. “Even in defeat, you still smile.”

“I haven’t been defeated.” She straightened her hat. “I changed my mind and decided to embrace my new land. So what do you think about that?”

A smile still tugged at the corners of his mouth as he drawled, “It was inevitable.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“Ja, but also because everything in Texas is better. For those two reasons, you’d change your mind.”

“You, Karl Van der Vort, just implied that I’m both reasonable and logical. Perhaps I’m not the only person in Gooding who’s changing. After all, change is inevitable.”

“Not always.” Just as suddenly as they’d shown up, his laugh lines and grin disappeared. His eyes went serious once again. “You can change yourself, but you cannot force another to change. Make no mistake about that.”

Was he warning her, or did she detect an additional note behind his statement? Wisdom forced her to refrain from asking.

“The only change I’m looking for at the moment is a change of scenery, but before we go, I’ll say what needs to be said: Men have no issue with sending their wives and daughters to male physicians. It is entirely hypocritical for men to suddenly cry foul about a female physician treating male patients. That being said, I am blessed to have my brother’s able assistance so men and I are spared much of the awkwardness that might otherwise occur. Should specialized care be required, I’d refer a man out.”

Karl seemed to find his horse’s ears and mane infinitely interesting.

“That is what I intended to tell you when you halted the buggy and nearly sent Skyler and me flying.”

“Never were either of you in any danger of flying.”

“Granted, you prevented any mishap, but years of wielding a hammer forged such phenomenal strength in your right arm. That only accounts for me, though. Cannot you admit the obvious?”

“What is apparent to one person may not be the truth to another. You feared for my dog, not knowing the facts. You’ve seen how I reinforced the roof of the buggy for Skyler. What you did not see was the folding shield I pull up on his platform. Should he take a mind to, he can lie down. The instant he feels the buggy begin to slow for any reason, he’s smart enough to sit. This keeps him safe.”

Relief flooded her. “That’s very reassuring. My brother is a highly skilled veterinarian, but Skyler’s a fine dog, and I’d rather he not become one of my brother’s cases.”

“My horses respond to any command, no matter what form, because they are beasts of trust. Never have I whipped or mistreated them. Each of the animals in the livery knows the hand of their master is kind, so their obedience is full and immediate.”

“What a wonderful analogy that is for Christ Jesus and us! When you next teach in the church or—”

“Nee.” He cut her off abruptly.

“Forgive me,” she said quickly. “It was impolite of me to speak of religion, just as it would have been for me to give my opinion on the recent election.” She made an impatient gesture. “I need to get to my patient.”

“Contradiction in a skirt,” he muttered as he set the buggy in motion once again.

“Precisely what is contradictory about me?”

“You trouble yourself over the smallest of things, yet the big issues—you turn a blind eye to them.”

“Faithfully seeing to my patients’ welfare is no small matter.”

“With this I agree, else I would not drive you there.”

“You, Karl Van der Vort, are a contradiction in pants.”

Utter amazement crossed his features. It soon gave way to a somber expression and a grave tone. “It is no mistake that I drive you.”

“Yes, well, I do appreciate that. This appears to be quite a sprawling town. After today, though, I’ll be able to get wherever I need to go. I have a fair sense of direction.”
Compared to a dirt clod.

“Nee.”

Hackles up, Taylor glared at him. “It may be your livery, Mr. Van der Vort, but that scarcely gives you any call to—”

“It gives me every right to protect my investments. Weather’s changing. Landmarks you might use one day suddenly don’t exist the next. In the event of a rainfall, you’d likely run the rig off the road and splinter it into pieces.”

“Just minutes ago, you boasted about your capable horses. Aren’t they surefooted?”

“Even the most surefooted, well-trained animal is vulnerable when in the care of someone with questionable judgment. Until I am convinced that you can return from each trip safely, you’re not going out alone.”

“You’re insufferably overbearing.”

“Insufferable?” He cocked a brow. “A good doctor is supposed to know how to lessen pain.”

“The stratagem is to find the root of the pain and get rid of it, thereby not just lessening, but alleviating the suffering.” She paused and gave him a meaningful look. “I’m quite adept at reading maps, you know.”

“Even if someone drew you a map—and that is highly questionable—it is still my decision as to whether you are permitted to drive alone or not. There is nothing more to be said.”

“Yes there is.” She heaved a very unladylike sigh. “You have the right to make this determination, even if I don’t appreciate it. But at times like this, I almost wish I could relax my standards. If I did, I might console myself with the possibility of using a dull, rusty needle on you someday.”

“The claims Mayor Cutter made regarding your fine preaching were well-founded,” Enoch said, shaking Parson Bradle’s hand as he exited the sanctuary.

“Thank you. We missed seeing your sister this morning.”

“Taylor’s out on a call. She asked me to express her regrets.”

Mrs. Bradle’s face clouded over. “Nothing serious, I hope. Daisy Smith wasn’t here today. Neither was Fuller—”

The pastor smiled down at his short wife with an abundance of affection. “Mama, Doc Enoch couldn’t say a thing about where Dr. Bestman went any more than you’d breathe a word about anyone upon whom I pay pastoral visits.”

“My husband and I would like to ask you over to Sunday supper.”

I should have anticipated this.
“It’s very kind of you to extend the invitation, but Taylor and I were already asked elsewhere.”
And I can hardly wait to get there. I didn’t get to sit beside Mercy during the service, and she slipped out right after the benediction so I couldn’t even escort her.
Just over Mrs. Bradle’s shoulder, he saw Mercy disappear inside her boardinghouse.

“Elsewhere?” The pastor’s wife looked like a little girl who’d been told the last puppy of a litter had been given away.

“Yes. Perhaps another time?”

“Next Sunday.” Mrs. Bradle claimed the day as if it were going to run off or be stolen.

“Next Sunday.”

The alacrity of his agreement set both of the Bradles into smiles. The parson chuckled. “So you can’t cook any better than I can?”

“Worse.” Every man within earshot gave a gruff nod and the women laughed. Enoch didn’t mind folks knowing he couldn’t cook. For the next few weeks, if they took pity and dropped off food, he and Taylor would eat nicely.

After he married, there would be no need for Mercy to run a boardinghouse or bakery. She could finally stop working herself silly and relax. Do a little needlework. Bake and cook only as she’d like. Come to think of it, Linette would be out of a job, so he’d hire her to do the housekeeping and cooking—perhaps split her time between their place and Taylor’s. After all, Taylor would come over for most of her meals anyway.

Big Tim slapped Enoch on the back. “If you’ve got an invite for lunch someplace, you’d best mosey on to it.”

“Far as I’m concerned,” Velma chimed in, “being late for Sunday supper ought to be a hanging offense.” Sidling closer, she latched on to Enoch’s arm. “Walk us to the buggy. Nothin’ but trouble will brew if Mama Richardson sees you goin’ to Mercy’s for lunch. She’s so set on getting Linette married off, she’ll send her over to help out at the boardinghouse with Sunday supper.”

How did she know where he was going?

Velma winked. “I’m old, but I’m no fool.”

Sydney leaned heavily on Big Tim as she waddled along. “There aren’t many secrets in a small town.”

The slight delay worked perfectly. The Richardsons drove off. Enoch thought about going to Mercy’s front door and knocking. She’d be in the kitchen, though. The last thing she needed was for him to pull her away from her work. Instead, he went around toward the back porch.
I should have thought to gather flowers. There’s no time now. Not that there’s much around this time of year, anyway.

“ ‘Choose your partner, skip to my lou, skip to my lou, my darling.’ ” High and sweet as could be, the little girl’s voice lilted from beside the back kitchen door. With eyes the same deep brown as Mercy’s and hair the same hue—only worn in long plaits trimmed in pink ribbons—Heidi was the most adorable little girl he’d ever seen. A white kitten was tolerating her with remarkable aplomb, even though she’d dressed it in a bonnet and cape of some variety and was holding it upright so just the back paws barely touched the porch planks.