Chapter 3

Gideon lay on his sofa, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what horrible childhood misdeed had earned him the wrath of every vengeful god in existence.

Harriet Fulton had been the first to reject him, laughing coldly when he had asked for permission to court her. Eleanor Bainbridge had taken the experience to new heights, accepting his offer of marriage after a four-month courtship, only to change her mind mere days before the wedding, leaving him to make what explanation he could to their friends and family.

There hadn’t been enough jests in the world to laugh his way through that nightmare. He’d had to grit his teeth, seethe, sigh, hurt, and swear he’d never set himself up for that kind of pain again.

And now Miriam Bricks, who was supposed to have been a perfect fit based on a logical, unemotional evaluation of the situation, had waited until they were actually in the church, in front of everyone, in the middle of the ceremony, to jilt him.

This was definitely the work of a spiteful deity or two.

The front door, out of sight of the parlor, squeaked as it opened. He had long ago decided not to oil the hinges, preferring a bit of warning before bleeding and broken patients stumbled inside. This newest arrival, however, sounded neither ill nor injured.

Gideon knew the rhythm of Cade’s confident stride. Everyone in Savage Wells did.

“You ain’t dead, are you?” Cade asked. “It was only a jilting from a mail-order bride. It wasn’t as though you were desperately in love with her.”

“This is not a broken heart, Cade. This is exhaustion.” He laid his arm across his eyes. “I need a nurse, badly. And I want a wife, because your ugly mug is the only one I see with any regularity, and that is more than any man can be expected to endure.”

“You ain’t the only one suffering.” Cade’s booted footfalls took him to the nearby chair. “You’re near about the only company I’ll have until the end of next week. Hawk’s got my Paisley knee-deep in some difficulty or another out toward Laramie. I swear that man’s purposely giving her overly long assignments.”

Gideon appreciated the distraction from his own problems. “Hawk is probably punishing you for not following Paisley’s lead and becoming one of his deputy marshals.”

Cade humphed. “Hawk can keep right on asking. Won’t do him any good.”

Gideon lowered his arm, looking over at his friend. “You’re very cross whenever your wife’s away.”

Cade tossed his hat onto an end table. He gave Gideon a look of clear warning. “If I hear you’ve whispered a word of my grumblings to her, I’ll skin you alive. Slowly.”

“Women are a great deal of trouble, my friend.”

“That they are,” Cade said. “What do you mean to do now?”

Gideon took a long, deep breath. “I’ll go down to the cellar and fetch a bottle of MacNamara whiskey and drown my sorrows.”

“I ain’t no dull-witted clod, Gid. You’re too responsible a doctor to incapacitate yourself, knowing a patient might arrive needing your help.”

“I’ll tell them there’s a nurse at the hotel. She can see to them.” There was a fair bit of irony in that. “See how simple I’ve made my life by bringing her here? I can finally rest when I’m ill, travel to other towns without leaving this one helpless, maybe even sleep now and then. It all worked out so perfectly.”

“I’m sensing a touch of sarcasm, there, Doc.”

“I’m applying a rather thick layer, Sheriff.” Gideon sighed. “The Western Women’s Bureau looked for six months before finding a nurse willing to come to this backwater. I have my doubts they’ll be able to find another.”

“I’d wager it wasn’t the town that the women were unsure of.”

Meaning, of course, it was marrying him that had given any possible candidates pause. “Maybe the bureau could tell them they’re welcome to come and leave me at the altar. That seems to appeal to large swaths of the female population.”

“You know, Miss Bricks is here already, and you need help. Have you thought about offering her the job she thought she was coming here for?”

“Are you cracked?” Gideon sat up enough to look over at Cade. “I can hardly think of a more awkward situation.”

“You lying here crying about how tired you are ain’t exactly comfortable,” Cade muttered.

“Truth be told, I can’t afford to pay her.” Gideon wasn’t about to be sidetracked. “A wife would have benefited from the income of the practice and the comforts it provided here in our home. That’s far different than finding the money for a regular salary.” He dropped onto his back again, eyes trained on the ceiling. “I’d have to pay her enough for room and board. She certainly couldn’t live here—not after today’s disaster.”

“It was a daft idea to begin with.” Years of soldiering and sheriffing had all but drained Cade’s well of empathy. “No matter how many details the bureau sent you, you’d still have been marry­ing a stranger.”

“But so would she. We’d both have come into this expecting the same thing. There would have been no emotional complications, no heavy history to overcome.” He shook his head. “It should have worked perfectly.”

“‘Should have’ don’t matter, friend. All you have is ‘did,’ and what your plan did was fail.”

Gideon rolled himself off the sofa. As cathartic as the admittedly dramatic posture had been, he really didn’t have time for theatrics. In deference to his wedding day, the town had solemnly promised not to suffer any illnesses or injuries, but he wasn’t foolish enough to actually expect any such reprieve. It hadn’t been a great day for making vows, after all.

“I suppose I’d better prepare for the inevitable flood of patients.” He loved his job, but he wasn’t feeling particularly fond of it in that moment.

Cade raised a single golden eyebrow, eyeing Gideon with annoyance. “Even if all you can give Miss Bricks is enough for room and board, it might suffice for now. What other choices does she have?”

There was some logic to his argument. And who wouldn’t want to spend every day with a woman who had taken one look at him and promptly run away?

It would likely be deeply unpleasant. But what was a little discomfort if it helped the town? Truth be told, it would help half the territory. That was why he became a doctor: to help.

“Do you think she’d consider it?” he wondered out loud.

“Only one way to find out.”

Think, Miriam. Think. She’d worked her way out of stickier situations than this; surely she could sort this one out as well.

She paced the floor of the hotel room she was temporarily calling home. There had to be another doctor looking for a nurse. One who lived somewhere remote and relatively far from civilization and who was desperate enough to accept her first three years of employment history without batting an eye at the two-year gap that followed it. One who cared only that she could suture a wound and find a heartbeat. It would also be helpful if that doctor didn’t expect her to marry him.

She sat on the bed, exhausted and overwhelmed. Finding employment was crucial; she hadn’t money enough for a full week’s lodgings.

Women in her situation, but without her knowledge and education, had few choices, none of which were pleasant. They would either be forced to marry whomever would take them, or earn their keep in the only profession available to unprotected and unskilled women. Miriam could find respectable work. In theory, at least.

Maybe Dr. MacNamara knew someone else in need of an employee. But how did one go about starting such a conversation?

“I don’t want to marry you, but would you please help me find a job?”

She let her shoulders droop. This mess was not at all her fault, yet she was paying for it. All she’d wanted was the tiniest taste of freedom.

“The barest bit of it,” she whispered to the empty room. “No more bars on windows. No locked doors. No hallways echoing with sobs and screams.” She took a shuddering breath. “I just want to live again.”

A knock at her door stopped Miriam mid-thought. Who would possibly be looking in on her? She didn’t know anyone in town. And she’d taken such pains to cover her tracks. Surely she couldn’t have been found so quickly.

She tucked her sketchbook in a bureau drawer. It wasn’t particularly well hidden, but it wouldn’t be immediately found.

Heart pounding, she opened the door an inch, peeking through the small opening. Dr. MacNamara stood on the other side. His unexpected but well-timed arrival could either be a good sign or a terrible omen.

“Miss Bricks.” He gave a tiny nod of acknowledgment. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” she warned.

“I have given up on matrimony, I assure you.” He sounded entirely sincere. “I wish only to talk with you for a minute or two.”

Seeing as she needed to talk with him as well, letting him in was more than reasonable. Why, then, was she so nervous? She had certainly faced more daunting situations.

She opened the door the rest of the way and motioned him inside. Life had taught her not to be too trusting, so she left it ajar.

“This is going to be uncomfortable,” he said, turning to face her. “I want to establish that from the beginning so we can proceed with the same expectations.” He stood with his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, his shoulders hunched. “I need a nurse. Badly. And even with everything that happened this afternoon, I am hoping to convince you to stay.”

Stay? Work here as she’d originally planned? That couldn’t possibly be what he was suggesting. It seemed best to make certain she fully understood what he was asking, especially in light of the enormity of their earlier miscommunication. “You promised this wasn’t a marriage proposal.”

He held his hands up in a show of innocence. “It’s not. I am offering you a job.”

It seemed far too good to be true, and far too many people had lied to her over the past years.

“I need help.” He pushed out a breath. “The town is growing, and with it, the number of patients I tend to. They also come in from surrounding towns, and I often travel to see those living in the far corners of the territory. I am only one person, and I am quickly reaching the limit of what I can do. I was hoping for a wife, but I need a nurse more.”

She was never this lucky. “You’re offering me the job I came here for originally?”

“More or less. But I can’t pay you well, only enough for room and board. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that at least part of your salary will likely be paid in eggs and fruit preserves, since that is how my patients generally pay me.”

Work for a man who’d fully intended to marry her sight unseen? There had to be an angle in this, something more he was aiming at. Else, why would he be willing to subject himself daily to the very discomfort they were both feeling?

“I would simply work as a nurse? That’s it? Nothing else?”

“I assure you, that is all.” He sounded just annoyed enough at the idea that she found herself believing him.

He was offering her a job, which she needed desperately. She could work for him, earn enough to see to her basic needs. She would be living a safe distance from Blackburn Asylum in a town few had ever heard of, let alone would think to search. Her stomach flipped a little. It was exactly what she needed, what she thought she’d come here for in the first place.

“I—I accept.”

“Well, then. It is all settled.” He didn’t sound very enthusiastic. “I will see you at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

She nodded. “Nine o’clock.”

He moved his mouth, but didn’t say anything more. His eyes darted around the room. His hands remained in his coat pockets.

After a moment, he nodded quickly and made his way from the room. The moment the door closed, she exhaled with both relief and anxious anticipation.

“This will work,” she told herself.

She had to believe it. Without a safe haven, she was as good as dead.