13
MATTHEW WALKED OUT of the cabin and froze, his intended words flying straight from his mind.
A stranger in a bulky overcoat and with shaggy hair and a scruff of beard stood scowling at Deirdre and Joe.
Immediately, the man swiveled toward Matthew, raising the rifle. “Who the devil are you?”
Matthew held up his free hand in a gesture of surrender. “I’m Dr. Clayborne, here to treat Mr. Miller.”
Joe moved forward. “It’s okay, Seth. I asked them to come to look at Pa’s leg.”
Ah, so this was Joe’s brother. Now that Matthew looked closer, he could see the family resemblance.
The furrows in Seth’s brow eased a fraction as he lowered the weapon. “You’re a doctor?”
“Yes.” Matthew stepped quietly in front of Deirdre in case Seth changed his mind about shooting something. “I’m afraid I found gangrene in your father’s leg.”
“Gangrene?” Seth gave Matthew a hard stare. “Will he lose his leg?”
Matthew eyed the rifle. “If you put the gun away, I’ll explain everything.”
Seth leaned it against the outer cabin wall. “Sorry. I was out hunting but didn’t have much luck.”
Matthew’s stomach muscles unclenched, and he took a breath. “Nurse O’Leary and I did a minor surgical procedure on your father’s leg. If you can keep the infection away, he should be fine, but I’m not making any guarantees. He should be in a hospital.” Matthew shifted to stand at Deirdre’s side. “I’d like to come back in a day or two to check on him.” He waited, still not sure how this man would react.
Seth shot another glance at Joe, then nodded. “Okay. That would be good.” He squinted at Deirdre. “Did he say your name was O’Leary?”
Deirdre tilted her chin. “That’s right. Joe works at our stables. Why?”
Seth shrugged. “Just curious why a woman like you would be out here.”
“Joe knew I was a nurse and asked us to come. It’s a good thing we did.”
Despite her defensive tone, Matthew sensed an undercurrent of nerves. He didn’t blame her. The Miller family was definitely an odd bunch. He’d have to make sure Deirdre didn’t come back here alone. Joe seemed harmless enough, but Matthew didn’t trust the two older Millers for a minute.
“Miss O’Leary and I have to get back,” Matthew said. “Joe, we’ll talk later about a follow-up visit.” He took Deirdre by the elbow and gave a slight squeeze, prompting her to hand the empty basin to Joe.
“Thank you both,” Joe said. “Can you find your way back?”
“I believe so,” Deirdre said. “See you tomorrow, Joe.”
Matthew guided her toward the lean-to where the animals were tied. Never did he think he’d look forward to getting back on that horse. But he didn’t think he’d take a full breath until they were back on O’Leary property. Those Millers were as cagey as a family of outlaws. Judging from Deirdre’s pale features, she seemed as unsettled as he.
When they arrived back at Irish Meadows, one of the hands came to take the animals from them. Even as Deirdre handed over the reins, she remained silent.
He fell in step beside her as they made their way across to the house. “You’re very quiet. Is anything the matter?”
She looked at him with worried eyes. A few freckles stood out on her pale face. “I’m not sure. Something seems wrong about that family.”
“I got the same feeling.”
“It’s clear Joe is terrified. Do you think his father could be abusing him?”
Matthew considered her question. “It’s possible. Though my initial feeling is that they may be hiding from the law.” He stared out over the windswept meadows. “I do believe Clayton has a problem with alcohol, which may be contributing to Joe’s troubles.”
“That poor boy. What can we do to help?”
One thing about Deirdre—she had a heart the size of Irish Meadows itself, always wanting to help someone in need.
He paused at the porch stairs. “All we have are theories. Let’s wait until the follow-up exam and see what we can find out then.”
The breeze tugged at her hair beneath her hat, pulling strands across her cheek. “I don’t know, Matthew. Waiting is not my strong suit.” She sighed. “But I’ll leave it for today.”
Matthew could tell by the set of her jaw it was the best he was going to get. A distraction might be in order.
He held the front door open for her. “Why don’t we take Phoebe over to see her puppy again?”
A bright smile was his reward. “That sounds wonderful.”
Indeed it did.
On Sunday morning, Matthew followed the congregation out of the small country church, nodding politely at the various members who paused to welcome him and his daughter. At the base of the stairs, the reverend stood greeting his parishioners, despite the less-than-ideal weather. Gusty winds tore at the man’s robes and whipped the gray hair about his head.
Matthew pulled his coat collar tighter, keeping one hand firmly around Phoebe’s fingers. He hadn’t been to church with any regularity since he was a boy—since before his mother died—and never imagined he’d go back. Even his marriage to Priscilla had taken place outdoors on her parents’ estate. He’d only agreed to come today to please Phoebe, who’d wanted to join the Whelan children. Yet he’d found the community atmosphere, as well as the reverend’s sermon, pleasantly uplifting.
He stood in line to greet Reverend Filmore. The stout man laid a hand on Phoebe’s head and murmured a blessing, which made Phoebe smile. Something warm curled around Matthew’s heart. He could count on one hand the number of times she’d laughed since her mother’s death, but since coming to Irish Meadows, she gave her smiles freely. More important, she’d started talking again.
Phoebe broke away from him and ran to join Betsy at her mother’s side. The two girls giggled and skipped down the walkway toward another group of children.
Matthew’s heart clutched, grieving for a fraction of a second the fact that his daughter was becoming more independent and less reliant on him. Then he released a quiet sigh. Kathleen and Deirdre were right. Phoebe needed to be around other children, to laugh and play and enjoy her childhood.
Deirdre’s distinctive laugh sounded over the buzz of conversation. Matthew spotted her standing beside the man he’d learned was a neighbor. Caleb Sullivan. The same man he had seen Deirdre talking with at Irish Meadows.
Sullivan leaned in to speak to Deirdre, his head almost touching hers.
She said something in response, smiling up at him.
Matthew shoved his clenched fist into his coat pocket. It was obvious Sullivan was smitten with her. Did Deirdre feel the same? The very idea made Matthew squirm in his shoes.
Connor and Gilbert joined the pair, and the tension in Matthew’s shoulders eased. He needed to put Deirdre’s romantic interests out of his mind. They were no concern of his. He set his jaw and turned his attention to Brianna, who was headed his way with a woman beside her.
“Dr. Clayborne, I’d like you to meet my friend Clara Baldwin. She is most interested in the work you’re doing with my mother.”
Matthew bowed to the attractive blond woman. “A pleasure, ma’am.”
She smiled. “Please call me Clara.”
“Very well then, I’m Matthew.”
“Clara’s father, Mr. Sullivan, is having health issues due to crippling arthritis. Her brother, Caleb, has had to come back to help with the farm.”
Caleb. There was that name again.
Clara came closer. “I wondered if the therapy you’re using on Mrs. O’Leary might help someone like my father.”
Glad to focus on a subject he loved, Matthew smiled. “Back home I’ve been reading about such cases, though I haven’t had the opportunity to conduct any clinical trials.”
He detailed a few of the cases he’d read about.
Clara seemed to hang on his every word. “Could I bring my father over one afternoon? I’d appreciate your opinion on whether it might be worth our while to seek treatment.”
He hesitated. What could it hurt to meet the man and give a quick assessment? “I’d be happy to.”
She beamed at him. “Thank you so much, Doctor. I’ll be in touch soon.”
As the women excused themselves to find their husbands, Matthew’s thoughts spun. Perhaps there was more call for physical therapy than he’d imagined. Perhaps he could make the transition from treating soldiers to treating civilians without too many problems.
“Matthew. We’re leaving now.” Deirdre’s voice cut through his musings.
His heart sped as he turned, steeling himself to guard his emotions. “I’ll get Phoebe.”
“No need. Brianna said she could come back with them.” Deirdre fell in step beside him as they made their way to James’s auto. “I saw you talking with Clara Baldwin. I hope none of her children are ill?”
“No. She wanted to ask me about her father, whether I thought therapy might help him.”
Instant concern filled her eyes. “Caleb told me how bad his father’s arthritis has become.” She gave him a questioning look. “Are you going to treat him?”
“I agreed to meet with him to see if I felt therapy might help him. There’s no point in my beginning treatment if I’m leaving soon.”
A shadow crossed her features. “I don’t think Mr. Sullivan would agree to go into the city for treatment. It’s a shame that there’s nothing around here.” Her eyes brightened with enthusiasm. “Would you ever consider opening a clinic on Long Island? Phoebe’s doing so well here. It would be wonderful if you could stay.”
For an instant, excitement rose in his chest. What would it be like to open a clinic here, away from the mistakes of his past, where his daughter was thriving? Then reality hit like a cold splash of water. “I’m afraid that would be impossible. Phoebe’s grandparents would never allow it.”
Deirdre came to a halt, her brows pinched. “Why not? If it would benefit Phoebe’s health?”
James was busy talking with a man on the other side of the car. Matthew lowered his voice. It wasn’t something he wanted everyone to hear. “I’m afraid I have a rather strained relationship with Priscilla’s parents. They harbor a great deal of resentment toward me due to Priscilla’s death. When Phoebe was released from the sanatorium, they . . .” He gulped in a breath. Best just to tell her the whole sordid affair. “They tried to get custody.”
Horror bled over her face. “Oh no. How terrible.” She grasped his arm. “Did they take you to court?”
“It didn’t get that far. I can’t be certain, but I believe Victor intervened on my behalf. The Pentergasts did, however, make me promise to keep Phoebe close by and allow weekly visits.”
“Did they give permission for you to bring Phoebe here, then?”
A flash of guilt surfaced. “They don’t know we’re here. They’re in England and won’t be back until December. Since we’ll be home long before then, I didn’t see the need to bother them.”
“I’m so sorry about your in-laws, Matthew. That must be such a strain for you.”
“I try not to let it bother me. For Phoebe’s sake. She adores her grandparents.”
Deirdre’s face softened. “I’m sure she does. I always wanted grandparents when I was a kid.”
“You didn’t have any?”
“No, they died before I was born.” She smiled. “But my sister-in-law Maggie’s mother has been like a surrogate grandmother ever since she moved here from Ireland.”
Matthew couldn’t keep his eyes from her vivacious face, reminding him of another benefit to moving here. Of being able to explore these feelings that he was growing tired of fighting.
“How about you?” she asked. “Do you have grandparents?”
He swallowed and let his gaze drop. “I have no family left, except Phoebe.” Which was why he couldn’t allow anything or anyone to jeopardize their relationship.
Any thought of moving here vanished like a puff of air.
Besides, as soon as Kathleen regained her strength, Deirdre would be returning to her medical studies in Boston. Studies that would take many years to complete.
Even if he gained the courage to act on his attraction, there’d be no point. Nothing could come of it, since their futures were obviously headed in very different directions.
Matthew tugged the brim of his hat down tighter to combat a gust of wind, at the same time attempting to secure his wayward thoughts back to the practicality of his usual existence.
Nothing to be gained from useless fantasy.
On Monday morning, Connor skipped breakfast in the dining room, wanting to be in the barn the moment Joe arrived. Deirdre had told him about her visit to the Miller cabin and expressed some concerns about Joe. Connor promised to try once more to get Joe to talk to him. Now that he knew a bit more about the situation and that Joe’s brother was filling in as the Sullivans’ foreman, Connor hoped that Joe would confide in him.
He jammed on his hat and braced against the cold morning air. His breath created white puffs that lingered in front of him. Winter was definitely on its way here a little earlier than usual. They might even have frost tonight.
He’d started down the path toward the barn when a movement in the enclosure caught his attention. Connor’s heart chugged to a halt in his chest.
Joe was attempting to mount Excalibur.
A chill of foreboding raced through Connor’s veins. Joe had made progress with Excalibur in recent days, but was the stallion ready for a rider?
Connor quickened his pace to the fence. “Joe, wait!”
His warning came too late. Joe hauled himself up into the saddle.
Excalibur’s whole body shuddered.
Connor clenched the top fence rail and held his breath, bracing for what was to come.
Sure enough, the horse gave a loud trumpet and reared, front hooves slashing the air. Joe clung like a burr to the horse’s mane and managed to stay in the saddle. The stallion bucked and jumped, leaping around the enclosure like a jack rabbit. Any minute now, Joe would lose his grip and be flung off.
Connor ran to pull a length of rope from the corner post and leapt over the fence into the pen. He twirled the lasso and raced toward the animal, keeping to the rear as much as possible to avoid the hooves. He let the rope fly, momentarily relieved when it landed over Excalibur’s head.
But then, to Connor’s horror, the horse did a vicious twist in midair, attempting to dislodge both the rope and the rider. A scream sliced through Connor’s nerves as Joe hurtled through the air, landing with a sickening thud.
Excalibur pulled the rope from Connor’s fingers and streaked to the opposite side of the enclosure.
Connor ran to Joe’s side and carefully rolled him over. “Joe, are you hurt?”
The boy groaned but didn’t open his eyes.
Fearing a broken limb or worse, Connor ran his hands over the boy’s limbs. Immediately, Joe flailed and attempted to rise.
“Whoa. Stay put for a minute.” Connor leaned in to pin him down, then stilled as the feel of distinct curves beneath the boy’s clothing registered in his brain.
Joe’s eyes flew open. He stared for no more than a second, then raised up and pushed Connor hard. Pain shot through Connor’s chest, and with a surprised grunt, he fell backward.
Joe half limped, half ran out of the enclosure. By the time Connor got to his feet and dusted himself off, Joe was nowhere in sight.
Connor’s mind swirled with doubts. In the heat of the moment, had he imagined the feminine figure? If not, then why did Joe shove him and bolt?
Anger rushed up in a hot wave. Connor had had enough of all the secrets. He was getting to the bottom of it—now.
He glanced over to make sure Excalibur had settled. Then he stormed out of the pen and across to the working barn. Inside, he scanned the main aisle, which was empty. He stopped and listened, finally hearing some labored breathing.
“Come out, Joe. Right now.”
Connor waited. Two seconds later, Joe stepped out of one of the stalls, eyes cast down at the ground. His hand clutched his midsection. Dirt streaked his cheeks.
Connor marched toward him, attempting to curb his temper. “What possessed you to do something so foolish? Clearly Excalibur’s not ready for a rider.”
Joe lifted his head. “I thought he was.”
Connor paced several feet away and back. “You were supposed to consult me before any drastic measures were taken. That was our agreement.”
“I’m sorry. I—”
“You could have been killed.” The truth of his words sank in, and a spasm clutched Connor’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” Joe repeated.
Connor blew out a hard breath, hoping to expel the remaining anger with it. “Come up to the house. I want the doctor or my sister to make sure you’re okay.”
Joe’s eyes widened. “That’s not necessary. I’m fine.”
Connor stomped out of the barn, banking back his frustration. Why didn’t he just yank Joe’s hat off and be done with it? But he couldn’t bring himself to do that. What if his suspicions were correct and Joe was indeed a female?
It would be too humiliating—for both of them.
No, it would be better to have Deirdre examine the boy and see if she could determine the truth.
Later that day, Connor guided Dagger along the path to the Sullivan property and attempted to ignore the prickle of irritation that crept up his spine. When he’d finally had a chance to talk to Deirdre, she’d told him Joe had refused to let her examine him, insisting he was fine—a fact that only made Connor more suspicious. Was Joe worried that Deirdre would want to check for bruises and, in doing so, determine he wasn’t really a male?
The situation had been eating away at Connor all afternoon. Short of confronting Joe, which could prove horribly embarrassing for all concerned, Connor decided his best course of action was to once again follow him home—and this time get closer to the cabin to see what he could find out.
When he reached the wooden structure, Connor waited for Joe to enter the cabin, then moved Dagger to a spot in the trees that afforded him a good view of the door. He was prepared to wait as long as necessary to find out what was going on with the Miller family.
The wind picked up, and even though the trees sheltered Connor from the worst of it, the cold started to creep into his bones. He pulled up his wool collar and breathed in a lungful of frigid air. If this cold kept up, it wouldn’t be long before the first snowfall.
The door to the cabin squeaked open. Connor squinted to see who would emerge. A girl came out, dressed in a plain skirt and a bulky coat, carrying a pail. Her long, fair hair bounced as she walked toward the pump.
Connor’s heart beat furiously in his chest. He wasn’t close enough to make out the girl’s face. He’d have to get nearer. Slipping from Dagger’s back, he made his way through the thicket toward the girl.
Intent on filling her pail, she didn’t notice him approaching.
“Joe?”
Her head flew up. She gave a startled cry, and the bucket slipped from her hand, splashing water over her skirt.
Connor moved closer until the sight of familiar blue eyes cemented his feet to the ground. Even in her simple attire, her hair loose about her shoulders, she was one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen.
His chest churned with unnamed emotions as he stared at her. “Why?” he croaked out at last. “Why are you pretending to be a boy?”
She bit her bottom lip. “You wouldn’t understand.”
He hardened himself against the tears that bloomed in her eyes. “I think you owe me an explanation.”
She stared at him for several seconds, then turned to retrieve the pail. Her fingers shook on the handle. “My father got injured, so my brother had to take his place as foreman at the Sullivans’.” She swiped some hair from her face. “I was supposed to fill in at Irish Meadows just until Pa got better—but instead he got worse.”
Ignoring a tug of sympathy, Connor allowed his anger free rein. “And then what? Your brother would show up and take your place—no questions asked?” He threw out his hands. “You didn’t think I’d care that you’d been lying to me for weeks?”
She cringed and stepped back. “We were just trying to survive.”
“And that made it okay to betray my trust?”
Her expression hardened. “Would you have hired me if you’d known I was a girl?”
Connor clamped his mouth shut. “No.”
Her slim frame shook. “I knew I could do the job, if I was given the chance. I’m good with horses.”
“You almost got yourself killed by one.” Again Connor’s temper flared, thinking of her being thrown by the stallion, the jolt of terror he’d felt when her body had hit the ground.
“I’ll be more careful from now on.” She placed the pail beneath the pump and yanked on the handle, sending a flood of water into the container.
He gave her an incredulous stare. “You really think I’d allow you to come back after this?”
The color bled from her face. “No one needs to know I’m a girl.”
Connor snorted, so consumed by her betrayal he couldn’t see straight.
“Please, Connor. We need the money.”
“Why?” he snarled. “You have Seth’s salary and a free roof over your head.”
She dropped her gaze to the pail at her feet. “Work’s been scarce for my father these past few years. He has a lot of debts to repay—”
“Josephine. Where in tarnation are you?” A man’s voice bellowed from the open door.
Panic flitted across her features. “Coming, Pa,” she hollered, then turned to Connor. “I have to go. Can we talk about this tomorrow? Please?”
Connor hesitated, calling himself every sort of fool for letting her pleading chip away at his anger.
“Josephine!”
Desperation brewed in her eyes. “You’re a man of integrity, Connor O’Leary. I know you’ll do the right thing.” She picked up the pail and hurried toward the cabin, throwing him one last anxious look before disappearing inside.
He stood staring at the door for several seconds, then slowly headed back to his horse, his mind swirling. How could he allow Joe—Josephine—to continue working for him, now that he knew she was a girl? Her gender shouldn’t matter, since he knew she could do the job even better than some of their current hands. But her talent wouldn’t matter to the others.
The reality remained that he would be the laughingstock of Long Island if word got out. Just thinking about Daddy’s reaction made Connor shudder. He’d worked hard to earn his father’s respect, and now with a promotion hanging in the balance, there was no way Connor could allow a slip of a girl to destroy his reputation.
No matter how pretty she was.
No, Josephine Miller would have to find herself another job.