Thirteen

The first thing Nate heard when he stepped into the doctor’s clinic Wednesday evening was the doctor’s voice. Thank you, Lord.

He’d not seen the man in over a week, and he was desperate to know what Doc Bradley’s thoughts were about Aaron’s leg.

Nate shed his hat, scarf, and gloves and left them on the hat tree, but kept his coat on. He couldn’t seem to get warm these days, although this clinic was the one place he came nearest to the feeling. In truth, this was the only actual building he entered most days.

The doctor stepped from the supply room, his own coat on and his leather medical bag in hand. “Nate.” His voice sounded weary as he offered a polite nod. The doctor’s shoulders hung low, as though he was exhausted.

Nate stepped out of the man’s way. “You’re heading out this late?” Darkness had settled a half hour ago.

“A catching fever and stomach ailment has been spreading on the east side of town. It seems two of my patients have suffered a turn for the worse since I was there this afternoon.” He glanced down the hall toward Aaron’s door. “Your brother’s spirits are low, even though the wound is healing fine. I’ve had him start doing exercises to strengthen the muscles. I think he can try to walk soon, but he has to want to.” The doctor nodded to him again, turned back to the door, and stepped out.

Aaron had to want to walk? There wasn’t anything either of them wanted more. And since Aaron had all day to do the exercises, he should make quick progress.

Nate strode to his brother’s door, then gave a light knock. “It’s me.” He had the quip he’d use in their usual greeting banter at the ready.

“Go away.” Aaron’s bark was muffled, but those certainly weren’t the right words. Maybe Nate hadn’t heard him right.

He pushed open the door and poked his head in. Aaron lay on the bed, hands clasped over his belly, staring up at the ceiling. Clearly, the doctor was right about his spirits being low.

Nate stepped inside and closed the door behind him, then strolled around the bed to sit on the far side. “You in pain tonight?” That wasn’t the line Nate was going to say, but the stony squint of Aaron’s eyes made clear he wasn’t up for anything lighthearted.

“I’m always in pain. My blasted bone is shattered. There’s a metal rod in my flesh. How could I not be in pain?”

Nate’s stomach knotted. Why did Aaron have to be the one lying there day after day, struggling through so much agony? How could God think this was the best way? If there was any chance Nate could go back in time and jump in front of that bullet—take this trial instead of his brother—he would do it without a second thought.

But there was no way to change reality. He could only help his brother work through this. He focused his gaze on Aaron, but his brother didn’t meet it.

Still, Nate pressed forward. “Doc Bradley said he showed you some exercises to strengthen the leg. He said you could be up and walking soon if you do them.”

Aaron snorted. “He’s just trying to pacify me. Trying to hold me off a little longer so I don’t tell everyone he’s a fake. That all his grand learning isn’t real.”

Nate pulled back. It wasn’t just the bitter tone Aaron used, but what in the world did he mean by his words? “You mean the surgery to add the metal plate? You have to give it more time, Aaron. It’s only been two weeks, and he said now is the time to start strengthening the muscles. You’ve not used them in months. It’s a process is all. The doctor said the wound is healing fine, so that’s good. Just buck up and do the work he gave you.”

“Work.” The word came out as a derisive grunt. “I don’t need work. I need something to stop this blasted pain. No one wants to give me anything. They don’t care a lick. Not even that girl you can’t stop ogling.”

Nate straightened. He didn’t ogle Laura; he respected her far too much for that. At least, he hoped he’d never given that appearance. Surely Aaron was just trying to get a rise out of him.

Forcing himself to breathe through his anger, he focused his response on the one comment he had to address. “Be careful how you talk about these people, Aaron. You got yourself in this mess by going along with Laura’s kidnapping in the beginning. They’ve done nothing but be kind to you ever since you got here. If you were a little nicer now, maybe they wouldn’t be so reluctant to come check on you.”

“I suppose putting a bullet in my leg is kind in your book? Is that what your new religion says? Turn the other cheek? More like turn the other leg.”

Nate pushed up from the bed. This had to be the pain talking. Aaron knew Laura’s shot hadn’t been intended for him. Only a twisted accident had landed that bullet in Aaron’s leg—an accident that still haunted her, if he’d gauged her reaction correctly the other day in the cave.

But was anything really an accident with God in control? How could the God who’d forgiven Nate of so many sins have intended all this pain and misery for Aaron? Was this what his brother needed to bring him to the point of repentance?

The thoughts warred in his mind like volleys of opposing gunfire. But all the questions were merely to make sense of the past. The answers would not change the fact that Aaron needed to do everything he could to walk again. He needed to pull from the melancholy and anger that seemed to be taking over.

Nate moved to the foot of the bed and turned to face his brother. “You know, you’re not the only one having a hard time here. I’m working myself into the ground trying to pay back our debt. I need you to do your part and exercise if the doctor tells you to.”

Not giving Aaron a chance to respond, Nate spun and walked out of the room. A few strides down the hallway, he slowed and forced his racing pulse to calm. Some days he just wanted to shake his brother by the shirtfront.

But Aaron was in pain. He should be at least a little more patient and understanding, and now he needed to see about getting his brother some relief.

The sounds of industry drifted from the family’s quarters, but he didn’t dare pass through the doorway into their private rooms.

“Mrs. Bradley? Laura?” The moment the name slipped from his mouth, he wanted to call it back. He should have called her Miss Hannon. She’d never actually given him permission to use her Christian name, and he wasn’t certain when he’d started using it more than just in his thoughts. But in company, he needed to take more care to safeguard her reputation. People might assume there was more between them than friendship.

Soft steps sounded, walking his direction. His body tightened in anticipation. There was no denying he hoped it would be Laura. As much as he liked Mrs. Bradley, Laura had woven her way through his life and heart in a way no woman ever had. He was falling for her, although he shouldn’t be. He was in no position to care for a woman. But he’d need to have that talk with himself later.

Right now, Aaron had to be his focus.

Laura’s lithe form stepped through the doorway. Her smile looked a little weary as she wiped her hands on her apron, but she wasn’t using the walking sticks. That was a good sign. And even though her eyes didn’t shine as much as usual, she was still the prettiest thing he’d laid eyes on in months—maybe years.

His mouth stumbled over the words clogging his mind, and he worked to say something. Anything. “You’re not using the walking sticks?”

Well, maybe that wasn’t the smoothest opening he could have mustered, but her smile brightened. “Sometimes, but I don’t need them as much. What can I help you with?”

To the point. She’d not come to stand and make awkward small talk.

He did his best to push aside his disappointment. His own weariness must be muddling his brain. “Aaron seems to be in a lot of pain. Could he have some of the medicine?”

Her brow furrowed for a moment, then she nodded. “If he needs it. The doctor said he could have it up to twice a day. I administered some this morning, so I suppose it’s fine for another dose now.”

She moved down the hallway. A limp slowed her stride, and he had to bite back the desire to step close and help support her.

As she passed Aaron’s room, she motioned toward the door. “I’ll bring it in a second.”

That was probably her way of saying to go visit with his brother and stop ogling her.

Nate pulled his gaze from her pretty form and turned toward his brother’s room. He needed to keep his focus on what mattered right now. He couldn’t afford distractions, especially when it wasn’t fair to Laura to raise any hopes—if she even was remotely interested in a courtship between them. Even if he ever reached the place where he could offer for her hand, why should she consider him?

She deserved far more than an outlaw like him.

Delivering medicines to the east side of town was the least Laura could do. Doc Micah and Ingrid had done so much for her—still did so much every single day—and she struggled to find enough ways to repay them.

The doctor had been out late the night before with patients, and then the clinic had been nearly overrun that morning with people suffering all the ailments the winter season brought on. It was a good thing Doc Micah had finally allowed her to step out and help with these poor people suffering on the east side of town. He didn’t speak much of the cases he treated, but apparently there was something of an epidemic happening there. Fever and stomach complaints of the worst kinds.

He’d lost one of his most elderly patients two days before, and that seemed to be weighing heavily on him. She couldn’t imagine the weight of having so many people depending on him to make them well.

Lord, strengthen the doctor. Give him your healing touch. She needed to be more diligent to lift him up in prayer. Ingrid too.

She reached the first house Doc Micah had described—a small white-washed home about half the width of the buildings on either side of it. He’d left out the fact that the whitewashing had almost completely flaked off, and the boards that made up the walls looked like they would peel away next, as warped as they were.

The houses on either side weren’t in much better condition, although they were indeed larger. Still, four of these structures could fit inside the building that housed the clinic and Bradley residence.

The tiny house didn’t have a porch, so she stepped straight to the door and knocked. Voices sounded inside, and then the door scraped open. She couldn’t help widening her eyes at the dirt floor. Even the rough cabin she’d grown up in had a puncheon wood floor, and they’d not even lived in town. How much more work she would have had keeping house if they’d been forced to live in this little shanty.

She lifted her gaze to the worn, shadowed eyes of the man who opened the door. His hair stood in awkward spikes, and his shirt looked to be a soiled mess. She extended the cloth sack that held the elderberry tonic and willow bark tincture. “Doctor Bradley sent some medicines for Mrs. Wilkinson.”

The man took the bag and turned away to cough—a dry, barking sound. Then he looked back at her, whatever life his eyes had held now drained out of him. “Not many of us left, now that Ma’s passed. I hope this helps Penny.”

Pain twisted in her middle. This must be the home that lost the elderly woman two days before. She gripped her other delivery as she struggled for the right words. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Such a trivial statement. Yet what could she say that wouldn’t make his sorrow even greater? “If there’s anything else we can do, please don’t hesitate to send someone for us.” If only they would. But people didn’t usually reach out to others for help. At least she never had.

But maybe they wouldn’t hesitate when that help came from a doctor. She’d have to let Doc Micah know she wanted to do anything she could for these people.

Maybe helping them could be the purpose she’d been searching for. Although the thought of facing so much pain and misery again—and even death—made her stomach sour.