Vivid (23 page)

Vivid smiled, "Well that's another
reason your nephew and I will never marry."

“Scoff while you may, young lady. Just
remember I warned you."

"I most certainly will," Vivid
said, smiling. "I'm going home now." And with that Vivid departed
with a wave and a smile.

That afternoon, Vernon brought over a
mule.

"My uncle says she's in good
health," he told Vivid as she slowly walked around the animal. She checked
the bone structure of its legs and the feel of its spine. The dark eyes
appeared clear and surprisingly intelligent. Vivid had never owned a mule, but
she knew from her schooling and the summers spent in Mexico that these
hard-working animals were born from a male ass and a mare. "Does it have a
name?"

"My uncle said the original owner
just called it Mule. I suppose you could name it anything you'd like, Dr.
Lancaster."

Vivid completed her appraisal. "How
much does your uncle want me to pay him?''

"Says it's free, on account of
Nate."

"Nate?" Vivid asked, turning to
face Vernon. She had to look up as she did with all the men around here.
"How does he figure in this?"

"Nate beat my uncle in the horseshoe
pits yesterday at the church. The mule was the bet."

"I see," Vivid replied.

“It was all fair and square, Doctor.
Everything above board."

"I believe you, Vernon. I wasn't
questioning anyone's integrity. I'm just a bit surprised is all. Are you sure
your uncle doesn't expect payment?"

"He says it's yours. He also said if
you ever need his help with anything to please let him know."

Vivid smiled. “Tell your uncle I said
thank you, Vernon."

"And Dr. Lancaster?" Vernon's
eyes were very serious. "Welcome to the Grove."

He looked so sincere. Vivid smiled with
all the warmth she felt and, holding his hand, thanked him.

Vernon, shy suddenly, walked to his wagon.
"Well, I need to get to town and open my shop. You take care of yourself
now, Dr. Lancaster. I'll see you soon."

Vernon drove his team down the road and
left Vivid in the yard with her new mule.

She named the mule Michigan. Later that
same afternoon a very large, fair-skinned man with a full cinnamon-red beard
knocked at her door. He introduced himself as Bertram Winslow and the young boy
at his side as his son, Caleb. Vivid had never seen the man before in her life.

"I met you yesterday at the
church," he explained. "Though I doubt you remember me with so many
folks about."

"I'm sorry to say I really don't
remember meeting you."

"That's fine, Dr. Lancaster, it isn't
important. Nate said you need a wagon."

Vivid nodded at this man who was as big as
one of the Crowleys.

"Well, that wagon there wasn't doing
me much good sitting out in my pasture, so I thought maybe you could use it.
She's still in pretty fair condition. Come on, I'll show you."

As Vivid looked over the relatively small
flatbed conveyance, he began to lecture on the fine points of axles, under
carriages, and wheel mounts. Vivid had to stop him. "Mr. Winslow, the
wagon looks fine. How much do you want for it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Adam Crowley says you're a part of
the Grove now. And if Nate says you need a wagon, we find you a wagon. Simple
as that."

"Did Nate tell you I'd planned on
paying for any wagon he found for me?"

"Can't remember him saying that, but
it's no matter."

Vivid looked up at him and wanted to argue
but realized that he probably still wouldn't accept her money. "All right,
Mr. Winslow, you win, and thank you."

"Any time. You keep yourself well
now."

After the man and his son left, Vivid
walked around her new wagon and experienced the same sense of amazement she'd
experienced when Vernon brought the mule. Free of charge? Had her experience
with Adam Crowley really changed folks' attitudes? She wasn't naive enough to
believe the sailing would be smooth from here on out, but she did see it as a
signal of a good beginning. Nate Grayson's hand in this left her puzzled,
however. She didn't have an opportunity to question him until late evening of
the next day.

She was sitting out on her back porch
reading a few of the medical journals she'd unearthed in her packing, a paper
submitted by Theodore Billroth of the University of Vienna. He was a pioneer in
surgical techniques, and in bacterial infections, especially as they pertained
to wound fever. The paper, “Investigations of the Vegetal Forms of Cocobacteria
Septica," had been published nearly two years ago.

Because of the breakthrough work done by
physicians like Billroth and Mr. Lister, over in England, Vivid felt confident
that the antiseptic medical practices they advocated, which she embraced
wholeheartedly, would soon find favor in the United States. Right now, the
techniques were being hotly debated in some medical corners and soundly
denounced in others. Many of America's established physicians were still
clinging to the theories advocated by Benjamin Rush, the subject of Abigail and
Adam Crowley's debate, and one of the original signers of the Declaration of
Independence. Some called him the Hippocrates of American medicine. Rush
believed infections and disease were the results of noxious miasmas building up
in the body. He advocated bleeding, puking, and the blistering of patients to
rid the body of these accumulated poisons. He died in 1813, but his sometimes
misguided therapies and theories were still practiced by many physicians,
especially those who had received their training before 1850.

Vivid had been anxiously anticipating
reading the Billroth paper but as she began, the rhythmic ringing of an axe
jarred the silence. She tried to ignore it at first but the more she tried, the
more distracting the sound became. She'd been inside her office all day,
helping the Crowley sons lay her floor, and she didn't want to go in now and
miss the last of the daylight She stepped off the porch, paper in hand, and
walked across the grass to the back of the Grayson house.

Nate Grayson was splitting wood, his
sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular arms. He stopped at her approach.

“May I ask how much longer you plan on
chopping wood?''

"Why?" he replied, resuming the
task.

"I was reading and the sound was
distracting me."

He brought the axe down on the large cord
again. "I'll be done in about a quarter of an hour. I promised the Widow
Moss I'd do this for her. She doesn't have a man, so the Crowleys and I chop
her wood."

"That's very neighborly."

He studied her face. "Are you being
sarcastic, Lancaster?"

So he'd reverted to calling her Lancaster
again. "No, I'm not."

He stopped chopping wood again and looked
her in the eye. "Let me see your hands."

Vivid stared, confused, "Why?"

"I want to see if they've
healed."

"They're not as red as they were, but
they're still chapped."

"Let me see."

She sighed and held up one palm. Her paper
under one arm, she then showed him her other palm.

"You should've waited for me to hire
someone."

“Why? So you could deride me for not doing
my own scrubbing? You believe me to be helpless enough as it is."

He said nothing.

Feeling herself on the edge of another
argument, Vivid took a calming breath and said, "Thank you for finding the
mule and buggy."

"You're welcome."

Then he began chopping wood again.

"Vernon said you won it in a
horseshoe bet."

"Vernon talks too much."

"Why would you get me a free mule if
you're so set on my leaving?"

"It's how we do things around here is
all."

"You didn't answer my question, Mr.
Grayson. It's you I'm asking about."

He lifted his eyes to her and said,
"It's not because of that kiss, if that's what you're fishing for."

At that moment Vivid wished she was the
fiery pillar of the dream Abigail described so she could reduce him to a
handsome mound of ash. "I'm not fishing for anything, least of all your
kisses."

He set the axe down. "Something wrong
with my kisses?"

The double-edged question would cut her no
matter how she answered. By the set of his too-pleased face, he knew it also.
"It was a kiss, nothing more."

"Nothing more," he stated,
settling his gaze on her lips just long enough to make her heart pound. In
spite of his heated perusal, she repeated confidently, "Nothing
more."

"I see. You've had better,
maybe?"

"Whether I have or not is not open
for debate."

"In other words, you haven't."

"You and I are not going to have this
talk."

"Didn't you say you were a physician
and therefore a simple discussion of the physical realm would not send you
running to the hills?"

She had said that. "Yes."

"So a simple kiss, a simple
discussion."

"I'm leaving now, Mr. Grayson."

And as she walked away Nate filled his
eyes with her swaying skirt and chuckled. "Coward."

Vivid stopped and turned. She surveyed him
a moment, then calmly walked back to where he stood with his arms crossed, and
looking entirely too handsome for his own good. She said evenly, “Never, ever
call anyone raised west of the Rockies a coward unless you have all the aces in
the deck, Nathaniel Grayson. I'm going to call your bluff."

"Meaning?"

Despite Vivid's initial bravado, she could
not look in his eyes as she spoke. "I melted like wax when you kissed me.
I've never been so moved by a man in my life."

"Now, it's your turn," she said.

He gazed at her beautiful face and knew
the gates of his heart were opening wider even as he breathed. He had no
business wanting this woman, yet he did. He admired the way she stood up for
herself, the confidence she exuded. But there was more to her than that. His
kiss had melted her, she'd said. He'd been caught off-guard once again by her
frankness. The effect of her words could be measured by the hardness of his
manhood.

Slowly he reached out and ran a finger
over one dark silk cheek. He watched her eyes close, felt the virgin trembling
of her skin. When he gently traced the outline of her jaw, then her
currant-ripe mouth, the lips parted passionately. He leaned down and kissed
her—his answer to her challenge.

Deepening the kiss, his sweetness filling
her, he eased her closer, and Vivid responded instinctively. She slid her hands
up his rib cage and around to the hard muscles in his back. This was no way to
settle a dispute, but she didn't care.

Nate husked against her ear, "Aces
around..."

He reclaimed her lips and Vivid shuddered
in response. His big hands roamed slowly over her back. His fiery, masterful
kisses filled her with such new and novel sensations, she could only tremble as
he passionately nibbled her bottom lip then teased it captivatingly with his
tongue. Her legs seemed to have lost all strength. Were it not for his hold
upon her, Vivid swore she would have pooled into a puddle of water. His kisses
on her arched neck made her moan, made her tingle.

When he finally turned her loose, she
swayed unsteadily, her senses pulsing.

Nate thought she looked like a woman who'd
been thoroughly kissed, but he wanted more. He wanted to bare her body to his
caresses and discover if the rest of her was as delectable as her sweet
chocolate lips. He'd let her go, however, to keep himself from transforming the
fantasy into blazing reality. "So does that meet your definition of a
simple kiss?" he asked, his smile entirely too masculine for her liking.

"You're enjoying this, aren't
you?"

He nodded. He did enjoy seeing her thrown
off-balance. He savored the sight almost as much as he had her lips.
"You've been running through my life like a tornado for the last two
weeks. I'm simply pleased to have discovered the cure for slowing you
down."

"That was your last kiss, Nate Grayson."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm serious."

"If I asked for another, you would
say no?"

In response to the heat in his tone and
manner, Vivid swallowed. What game was he playing now? "Yes."

"Why?"

And she replied truthfully, "Because
I didn't travel all these miles to have my heart trifled with, not even by
you." She added softly, "So good evening, Mr. Grayson."

T
he next morning, Vivid hitched up Michigan and drove her new wagon
into town with plans to stop at Miss Edna's first. She wanted to see if any of
the items she'd ordered had arrived.

Miss Edna looked up at her entrance and
said, "Oh, good, you're here. I was just about to send someone out after
you. Betty Jane Carpenter's baby is overdue. I wanted to see if you'd go with
me to check on her."