3

Rosemary rummaged in a back corner of her wardrobe and removed a rust-colored calico dress. The sight of the plain frock brought the smells and sounds of the Barracks hospital to her memory. She bit her lower lip, wishing she knew another way to support herself. Any acceptance she’d gained since arriving in Noble Springs would surely disappear once word spread that she was employed as a nurse.

The winter chill in her bedroom offered little incentive for reflection. She dropped the gown over her petticoats and fastened the buttons on the bodice, then dashed downstairs to her warm kitchen. The dried thyme and rosemary hanging from the ceiling beams lent the room a savory aroma. She sniffed with appreciation, pinching a bit of her namesake herb between her fingers to stir into her breakfast cornbread.

As she slid the pan into the oven, she heard the sound of a key in the lock. Bodie scooted out from behind the stove and ran into the sitting room, his tail fanning the air. Rosemary hurried after him.

“Just a moment. I need to move the bolt,” she called.

Her brother, Curt Saxon, bent to kiss her cheek after the door opened. “I stopped by to wish you well.” He stepped back, his large hands gripping her upper arms. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” A corner of the faded scar on his neck showed above the high collar of his shirt. His dark brown hair bore the fresh tracks of a comb.

She hid a thankful smile. His teaching job at the academy had done wonders for his spirit, shattered after wartime experiences.

“I’ll be fine. A local practice won’t be anything like hospital wards.” She took his hand and led him to the kitchen, talking as she went. “I don’t know about Dr. Stewart, though. I think he studied arrogance in medical school.”

He snickered. “As long as you keep a tight rein on your temper, all should be well.”

“I told you what he said when he was here Friday evening. If he continues to talk to me like that, I can’t guarantee anything.” She placed two cups on the table and poured tea for both of them.

He inhaled the steam rising from his cup. “Chamomile. This should help keep you calm.”

“Stop teasing. I’m not that bad.”

“Sorry.” He sipped his tea, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Why did you have the door bolted? Usually you have trouble remembering to lock it.”

Rosemary stood and lifted a flowerpot from the windowsill. She removed the folded piece of brown paper tucked beneath the pot and handed the scrap to Curt. “This was left on my porch before daylight Friday morning. I think whoever wrote it has mistaken me for someone else. Regardless, the thought of a trespasser frightens me. So I bolt the door.”

He scanned the brief message. “Witches’ brew, eh? No wonder you’re frightened. The writer sounds unhinged. I wish you’d agree to come and live with us.”

“I don’t want to be dependent on anyone. You know that.”

“This changes things.” He tapped the message.

“No it doesn’t.” She locked eyes with him. “Give me a year. Then we’ll discuss this again.”

“A year from when Faith and I were married, not a year from today.”

“Promise you won’t bring up the subject in the meantime?”

Curt stood, blowing out an exasperated sigh. “Maybe.” He winked. “But the offer stands, anytime you change your mind.”

“Get on with you.” She gave him a mock shove. “Your students are waiting.”

After he left, she ate a quick breakfast, left Bodie in the house, and headed for Dr. Stewart’s office. She needed to prove herself to her brother, as well as to her new employer. It wouldn’t do to be late.

The doctor met Rosemary at the door, impressive in a black coat and dark gray waistcoat. “So you decided to take the job. I wasn’t sure.”

She stifled the tart reply that rose to her lips. “I appreciate the opportunity. Thank you. Now if you’ll show me my responsibilities, I’ll begin.”

“We discussed your responsibilities on Friday evening. What we didn’t discuss is salary. Will you accept twenty percent of what comes in every week?” A rueful smile crossed his lips. “Sometimes I’m paid with a ham or venison. You’d get a share of that too.”

“A percentage would be satisfactory. Thank you.” The piddling amount she received from her grandparents’ trust fund covered her rent but didn’t leave much for food and other necessities.

“Excellent.” The doctor exhaled with a huff. He sounded like he’d been holding his breath.

He pointed to a small slant-top desk that had been added to the room since her visit. “This will be your station unless I need your direct assistance. Last week’s receipts are in the drawer and need to be entered. That’s the ledger on the corner of the desk.”

His face took on a boyish look and he grinned at her. “I hope you’re better with figures than I am. I can compound medications all day, but my brain reels at columns of numbers.”

“My brother is a mathematician. Some of his skill has rubbed off on me.” She fought down disappointment. She’d expected to don an apron and assist him with patients, not to act as a clerk tucked away in a corner. Still, if she wanted to live without being dependent on others, she couldn’t let pride stand in the way of employment.

Dr. Stewart must have sensed her inner struggle. “Never fear. When ladies seek my advice, I’ll summon you to the examination room immediately. In the meantime, please tap on my door when a patient arrives.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

When the door to his office closed, she hung her cloak on a hook and tied her apron over her dress. She’d be ready when she was needed.

Rosemary settled behind the desk, realizing he’d positioned her against a windowless wall. A lamp hung from the center of the ceiling. The flame threw light in a broad circle but left her work area in shadow.

After studying the area, she decided to move the desk under the rear window and place the sofa against the wall. She rose and shoved against its horsehair-upholstered back. The ball feet screeched across the floorboards as the couch traveled to the center of the room. Leaving it there, she pushed up her sleeves and steered the desk toward the window.

The door to Dr. Stewart’s office flew open. “What are you doing?” His eyes widened when he saw the disarray in the waiting area.

She gestured toward the window. “If I’m to work with figures, that light is far better.”

“Miss Saxon . . .” He shook his head. “You haven’t been here for half an hour, and you’re assuming control. I wanted you against the side wall so you could greet patients when they entered.”

“This is a small room. No one is going to sneak past me.” She hoped her amusement wasn’t noticeable.

Apparently she didn’t succeed, because he shot a sharp glance in her direction. “Anything else you want changed while I’m here?” His voice carried an edge of sarcasm.

“No.”

In moments the doctor had moved the sofa from the room’s center to the wall opposite his door. After arranging her desk under the window, he gave a mock bow. “I trust this is to your liking. Now if you’ll excuse me, I do have more important things to attend to.”

Her hospital training rescued her. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said, keeping her tone respectful.

“You’re welcome.” A glint of humor flashed in his eyes before he turned away.

On Thursday, near the end of Rosemary’s first week as Dr. Stewart’s nurse, the entry door opened and a middle-aged man entered the reception area, holding his right arm close to his body. His hand was bound in cloth strips.

She jumped from her chair and hurried toward him. “My goodness. What happened?”

“Burned myself. You ain’t the doc, are you?”

“No. I’m his nurse.” A sense of pride swept through her as she said the words. She was a nurse, and a good one. Her service during the war had proven the fact. “Please have a seat. Dr. Stewart will be with you in a moment.” She tapped on the door to his office before returning to her desk.

He chuckled. “Figured you was too pretty to be named Elijah.”

“I’m Miss Saxon.” She opened the receipt book to a new page. “May I have your name?”

“Eldridge. We’re new here.” He raised his bandaged hand. “I was trying to burn some brush behind the house. Shouldn’t of threw kerosene on it.”

“If you can find comfrey growing around, make a poultice of the root for your burn. It will help with healing.”

Dr. Stewart stood in the doorway of the examination room. He fixed her with a stern gaze. “If you’re quite through dispensing medical advice, I’ll see the patient now.”

Mr. Eldridge rose. “She wasn’t doing no harm, Doc. My granny used comfrey. Worked good.” He preceded the doctor into the room.

Toward the end of the afternoon, Rosemary tidied her desk and prepared to leave. If she hurried, she’d have time to stop at West & Riley’s for a few groceries before dark. She suppressed a groan when the exterior door opened. A young woman stood silhouetted on the threshold.

As soon as the caller stepped inside, Rosemary recognized her. “Cassie Haddon. It’s been weeks.” Rosemary hurried across the room and seized Cassie’s hands.

“I’m so glad I found you. I went to the mercantile and Faith said you were employed here.” Her gaze took in Rosemary’s plain dress and severe hairstyle. “As a nurse?” Her voice spiked higher.

“Yes. Whenever possible. Most of the time I’m a clerk.” She tried to keep from sounding offended at her friend’s incredulous tone. “Please sit and tell me what brings you all the way across town.”

“Mother sent me on an errand.” She twisted her hands together. “I don’t have much time. My stepfather will expect me at the mercantile by half past five. I don’t dare keep him waiting.” Her green eyes misted, reflecting the color of the emerald ribbons on her bonnet. “Mother needs more of that tonic you prepared for her. Living with Mr. Bingham is . . . difficult.”

“I can have some ready for you tomorrow.”

Cassie shook her head. “At best, it will be next week before I can ask to come to town again.”

“Then I’ll bring it with me on Monday.” She patted her friend’s hand. “Suggest to your mother that she take long walks. Fresh air—”

“Are you treating my patients again, Miss Saxon?” The doctor stepped into the reception area.

Rosemary jumped to her feet. “Miss Haddon is a friend of mine, Doctor. This is a social call.” She sucked in her lower lip. He had the most irritating habit of popping out of his office at awkward moments.

Ignoring her, he nodded in Cassie’s direction. “Is your mother in need of medical attention? If necessary, I’ll pay a visit to your home.”

Cassie paled and scrambled for the door. “No. She’s fine.” She cast an anxious look at Rosemary. “I’ll be here Monday.” She whipped through the door in a whirl of green plaid taffeta.

Dr. Stewart stared after her, then ambled to the sofa and settled against the cushioned back. He waved a hand at Rosemary. “I need to get to know folks here. Sit a moment and tell me what that was all about.” In shirtsleeves, with his hair rumpled, he looked far less imposing than he had when she first called at his office.

“I met Miss Haddon and her mother last summer. They were passengers on a train that derailed. They stayed with me and my brother while the tracks were repaired.” She leaned forward in her chair, caught by the interest in his dark eyes. “After they returned to St. Louis, I thought I’d seen the last of them, but by a strange coincidence, this past July Miss Haddon’s mother married Elmer Bingham, a local farmer, so here they are again.”

“From Miss Haddon’s demeanor, it would appear all is not well?”

She stared at her hands, hesitant to gossip. “The Binghams’ courtship was quite brief and their sudden marriage took place in St. Louis. From what Miss Haddon has said, she and her mother were not exactly welcomed by Mr. Bingham’s servant when they arrived here. The man treats them as interlopers. As a result, Mrs. Bingham apparently suffers with nervous spells from time to time.”

He stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. His black boots were scuffed and well-worn. “So you’re prescribing long walks? Then why is Miss Haddon coming back on Monday?” The tone of his voice was casual, interested.

“I prepared a tincture of valerian root for her in the past. My friend reports it had a calming effect on her mother.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You can’t use my practice as a dispensary for your home remedies. What if someone sickened from their use?”

“I’ve never sickened anybody.” She stalked to the center of the room and faced him, hands on hips. “If it’ll put your mind at ease, I’ll tell my friends to come to my house and not endanger your precious practice.” Rosemary swept her cloak from its hook on the wall and flung it over her shoulders. “It’s past five. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

He stood, towering over her. Up close, she noticed gray strands woven through his hair. The war had taken a toll on the young doctor she remembered. His dark eyes smoldered at her.

“Your friends may visit here at any time. Just leave your potions at home.”