Читать книгу A Convenient Wife - Carolyn Davidson, Carolyn Davidson - Страница 9

“That should help these spots heal faster,” Win said, eyeing the areas he’d cleansed and anointed with salve. “We’ll just put on a bandage for tonight. By morning you can leave them open to the air.” Each scabbed and scuffed area was covered with soft fabric, and held in place by a strip of cloth circling her leg.

He’s a doctor. The words whirled in her head, rebuking her as she felt distinct pleasure in the touch of warm hands against her skin. His head bent over his work and she was afforded a bird’s-eye view of his dark, crisp waves. Stunned by the sudden urge to place her fingers there, to know for herself the texture of those masculine curls, she clenched her hands into fists and buried them in the fabric of her skirt.

“There, that should do it,” he said, easing her skirt down to cover her legs almost to her ankles. “Now, where else are you bruised?” he asked, standing erect to replace the roll of bandage in his bag. At her silence, he sighed. “I only want to help, Ellie.”

Untangling her fingers, she unbuttoned her cuffs, rolling up the long sleeves she’d been careful to use as coverings for her arms. No matter how warm it became, she’d determined to hide the evidence she wore there from shoulder to wrist. Now, it didn’t seem nearly so important that she admit defeat at her father’s hands.

Win was silent as she revealed the purpling bruises, but his hands were tender as he bathed them with wool batting, dousing them well with witch hazel. “It’s an old remedy,” he said as he opened the bottle, “but it seems to work well. Mostly, the blood will have to dissolve back into your system. I fear there’s no rapid recovery from bruising.”

Ellie nodded agreeably. “I’ll just keep them covered for a while.”

Win cleared his throat. “Is there anything else I need to tend to? Your father didn’t hurt your stomach in any way?”

She shook her head and grimaced. “No, that’s why my arms got all banged up. I had them wrapped over my belly and when he was hitting on me, they took the brunt of it. My hip is sore where he kicked me, but there’s nothing broken. I’ll get over it.”

He pressed the bottle of witch hazel into her palm. “Here, I’ve got lots more where this came from. Promise me you’ll use it tonight. And, Ellie…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “If you should have any pain or bleeding, let me know right away. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Ellie looked up. “I reckon I’ve about got over the whole mess already.” There was enough pain and some to spare, but she suspected it wasn’t the sort of thing he was hinting at. “I expect I’ll be fine. You don’t need to be fussing over me, Dr. Gray. I’m the one that’s supposed to be looking after you.”

“Starting tomorrow,” he told her. “Now, let’s walk you back to Tess and John’s place and get your belongings.”

“You want me to stay here tonight?” The thought was daunting, that she should be given a room on the second floor of this big house, all for her own, with nothing more to do than keep the place clean and cook three meals a day for her keep.

“I don’t see any reason why not,” he said. “I’ll want to explain things to the Dillards though, so folks will understand the arrangement.”

Gathering her scant supply of clothing from June-bug’s bedroom took little more than a moment, and Ellie walked back into the kitchen in time to see Winston Gray shaking John Dillard’s hand. Win looked up as Ellie stood just inside the doorway, a question in his eyes.

“Yes, I’m ready,” she said. Her valise packed full with all but her mother’s shawl, she approached Tess. “Thank you for…” She looked around the kitchen, then back at the woman who’d come to her aid. “For everything,” she finished lamely. “I appreciate your kindness, Mrs. Dillard.”

“I think you might call me Tess.” Her fingers touched Ellie’s cheek and warmth flooded the area, as though affection gave healing to the skin she stroked. “I’ll be over to look in on you tomorrow. Doc says you need foodstuffs, so just make a list and I’ll carry it to you.”

The immensity of her situation seemed staggering as Ellie considered the offer. “I don’t even know what he likes to eat,” she murmured.

“Most anything you cook will be better than what he’s been puttin’ in his stomach lately. I’ll get some staples together for you tomorrow,” Tess told her, turning her toward the back door. “You run along now. Things will work out.”

Things will work out. The words resounded in her head as Ellie prepared for bed. Clean sheets and a worn quilt covered the feather tick, and its comfort tempted her as she blew out the lamp and glanced from the bedroom window. A light blazed from the house next door, and she caught a glimpse of a woman’s form, silhouetted and unmoving. And then the shadow turned and the unmistakable burden of pregnancy altered the vision she watched.

A man entered the room and Ellie watched, unable to turn away, breathless as the tall, dark-haired figure approached. Bending to look into her face, he took the woman’s hands in his and then drew her against his body. The image of tenderness she beheld brought tears to Ellie’s eyes, and she turned away, feeling she had somehow violated a private moment.

Stunning in its simple beauty, the image beckoned, and she looked back. Only darkness met her gaze. The light was extinguished, the second floor room darkened.

She sank into the bed behind her. The feather tick welcomed her aching body, and she curled on her side, one hand pressing against the firm swelling of her belly. A movement deep inside caught her attention, and a gentle nudging pushed against her hand. She held her breath, and again the skin beneath her fingertips was rippled by the tiny presence within. With a sigh of delight, Ellie closed her eyes.

If there was truly a God watching over her, as the minister had said in a sermon on one of her occasional visits to church, then surely he must be taking a hand right now.

The woodstove was familiar territory, and Ellie peered into its depths to gauge the amount of kindling she’d stacked. She’d found a small case of sulphur matches in the pantry and placed a box of them atop the cookstove. Now with a scrape on the side of the box, she set a match ablaze, firing the kindling, then quickly added small lengths of wood. Watching as they caught fire and began to burn, she bent to the wood box, lifting three larger chunks, enough to make a good cooking fire.

In ten minutes she could begin breakfast, and to that end she scouted out the pantry shelves. A flour bin held enough for biscuits, and she found a can of lard with a good scoop left on the bottom. Sniffing it, she decided it had not gone rancid. But the addition of lard went on the mental list she was concocting as she worked.

A pot of coffee was the next detail, she decided, and a blue speckled pot sat on the back of the stove. She rinsed it at the pump and filled it halfway, then added a handful of coffee from a jar on the shelf. Cracking an egg, she dropped it into the water and placed the pot on the front of the stove, where the hottest fire would burn.

A knock on the back door caused her to tremble, and she looked over her shoulder, the thought of her father speeding to the forefront of her mind. A woman cupped her hand to peer through the screen door, and Ellie sighed with relief.

“Good morning.” It was a cheery greeting and Ellie hastened to open the door. “I live next door. He gets bread from me when he takes a notion, but he hasn’t got a fresh loaf for pretty near a week,” the neighbor said, her gaze sweeping Ellie from stem to stern. “I’ll bet you’re the young lady who’s going to be doing for him.”

“You’ve heard about me?” Ellie asked, astounded that the news had traveled so quickly.

“Tess Dillard told me late yesterday afternoon that he was thinking of taking on a housekeeper. The man needs looking after, sure enough.” The loaf of bread she carried was placed on the table and then the woman headed back to the door. “If you need anything else, just call out. I’m Ethel Talbert. My husband Harry owns the barber shop.”

She was past the screen door and halfway across the yard before Ellie caught her breath. Scurrying across the kitchen, she leaned out the door. “Mrs. Talbert, where can I buy some milk?” The biscuits could be put together with water, but they wouldn’t be near as good, and, for Winston Gray, Ellie would beg, borrow or steal what she needed to serve him a decent meal.

“Land sakes, child. I didn’t think about that. I’ve got extra. Come along and I’ll send you some back.”

Patting her hair and brushing the flour from her hands on a dish towel, Ellie scampered across the yard, past the hedge of bushes and up to the neighbor’s back door. A quart jar was being filled from a crock, even as she watched through the screen, and in moments Ellie was carrying it back to Win’s kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Win stood just inside the doorway, rolling up his shirtsleeves as Ellie scooted past him. “You out visiting already?” He reached to brush at her cheek. “You’ve got flour dust all over your face,” he said, grinning at her.

“I thought I wiped it all on the towel before I went to Mrs. Talbert’s house. I just borrowed some milk from her so I can make biscuits. I hope you have baking powder or soda.”

“Both, I suspect,” he said, entering the pantry. “Though I don’t think I’ve used either. When I moved in, Tess brought over what she thought I needed to furnish my kitchen, but most of it is still just like it was that day. I’m not much of a cook.”

He sat down at the table, watching Ellie knead the biscuits, then cut them into circles with a water glass and place them on the baking pan she’d located.

“You do that well,” he said, sounding pleased. “This idea is gaining ground.” He peered past her to the stove. “Is that coffee I smell?”

Ellie nodded and found a cup for him. “If you have something you need to do, I’ll start the eggs in a few minutes. The biscuits won’t take long.”

He chuckled. “I’m enjoying this, Ellie. No one’s cooked for me since I left home, and that was a long time ago.” He sipped from the cup and placed it on the table. “Did you sleep well?”

“How could anyone not sleep, all cozied up in a feather tick?” she asked. And then remembered the neighbors in their bedroom. “Who lives on the other side of you, the house I see out my window?”

“That’s the sheriff, James Kincaid, and his wife, Kate. She’s been teaching school for a little over a year now. They say she’s a crackerjack. Keeps the big boys in line. The kids all seem to like her. Word is she’s a good teacher.”

“And they’re going to let her keep on teaching after the baby’s born?”

“Yeah, I understand the town council has given permission for her to take the baby to school with her unless she’s decided to get someone to watch it. They’ve really gone overboard to keep the sheriff happy. In fact, school was in session early this year. They figure to let the students out for a couple of weeks when Kate delivers.”

The biscuits were golden and tender, the eggs scrambled and waiting, and Ellie poured a second cup of coffee for Win as he picked up his fork. “Aren’t you eating with me?” he asked. “Get yourself a plate, Ellie. You cooked enough for both of us.”

The intimacy of sitting at a breakfast table with a man was unsettling, Ellie thought. Her father had insisted on her staying by the stove to serve him while he took his meals, and she was left with whatever he chose not to eat. She’d taken to standing at the window with a plate or pot in her hand as a result, and decided quickly that the pleasure of sharing a meal was something she could get used to in a hurry.

“I’m going out on house calls,” Win told her, placing his plate in the dishpan. “I should be back a little after noon. Maybe you can find something in the pantry for a sandwich for me.”

He waved a farewell and vanished through the kitchen door into the long hallway that divided the lower floor into his offices and dwelling place. And then the front door closed and he was gone.

Ellie looked around the kitchen, then walked to the back door to look out upon the sadly neglected grass and flowers in Win’s backyard. She smiled as she considered the joy of plucking back the dead growth, of watering and watching the flowers flourish, of tending the soil. Stepping out onto the stoop, she lifted her face to the morning sun and inhaled deeply, tasting the scent of freedom.

“Is Doc around?” Tess Dillard called through the back screen door and opened it at the same time. “Ellie? Are you here?”

Ellie clattered down the stairway, then hurried through the hallway to the kitchen, almost colliding with Tess in the doorway. “He’s gone on house calls,” she said. “Is something wrong?”

“Cam from over at the saloon asked me to locate Doc. Said one of his girls needs to be patched up.” Tess grimaced. “I think a customer got rough with her. Cam said she’s bleeding.”

“Is she cut?” Ellie asked.

Tess shook her head. “I don’t think that’s what he meant.” She looked past Ellie toward the door leading into the other side of the house, where the office was located. “Did he say how long he’d be?”

“No.” With a shake of her head, Ellie walked into the kitchen. “He’s been gone quite a while. Left right after breakfast. He didn’t say where.”

“Well,” Tess said with a sigh, “I don’t think an hour or so longer will make an awful lot of difference anyway. Just tell him Cilla needs to be looked at.”

“Will he know where to go?” The thought of Winston Gray tending to a saloon girl didn’t appeal to her for some reason, and Ellie swallowed her distaste. “Does he get called over there often?” she asked hesitantly.

“They’re pretty sturdy females,” Tess said with a chuckle. “They take care of themselves most of the time. But once in a while…” She pursed her lips and eyed Ellie thoughtfully. “There’s men who don’t care how they use a woman,” she said.

And whatever that was supposed to mean, Ellie assumed it didn’t bode well for the ailing Cilla. “I’ll tell him when he gets back. He said to have something ready for him to eat at noontime, and the sun’s about overhead already.”

“Are you getting along all right?” Tess asked, looking around the tidy kitchen. “I planned on bringing you a grocery order this morning, but I clean forgot when I set out to find Doc. If you can think of anything you need, write a list for me to take back.”

“He likes eggs, I think. At least he ate three of them for breakfast. And I’ll need some meat to cook for his supper. I don’t know where I should go to get it.”

“There’s a side of beef hanging out back in the shed behind the store,” Tess said. “I’ll have John cut you off a piece for a roast and bring it over. You’ll want some potatoes, and maybe beans or carrots to go with it. John can use the wagon and bring you a burlap sack of spuds and a bucket of carrots. I’ll add everything to Doc’s account.”

“I know how to put stuff up if Doc has canning jars,” Ellie offered. She crossed to the pantry and looked in the lower shelves. “Do you suppose there’s some in the cellar?”

“This place was picked clean when the Chambers family moved out last year,” Tess told her. “I doubt there’s anything left. I’ll scout up some jars and lids and rubber rings for you and send them along.”

“I saw some onions going to seed by the side of the house this morning,” Ellie said. “Maybe they’re still good.”

Tess sat down at the table. “Let’s just make a list. I think this is going to be a long, drawn-out project we got going here.”

Ellie found a tablet Win had left on the kitchen buffet and located a pencil. Her heart raced as she considered the task ahead. “I may have more to do than I thought at first,” she told Tess with a grin. “Here I was, thinking I’d just have to keep things redd up and put meals together. I think I’ll be starting from scratch, won’t I?”

“You’ve run a house before, haven’t you?” Tess asked, scribbling one item after another in a rapid fashion. “Your pa never had a housekeeper, did he?”

Ellie shook her head. “No, and I’ll bet he’s up to his neck in dirty dishes by now. He was never much of a hand at cleaning up behind himself.”

“You wouldn’t go back out there, would you, girl?” Tess’s hand stilled as she looked up, and her eyes narrowed as she waited for Ellie’s reply.

It was quick in coming, a single word uttered with no chance of mistake. “No.” Ellie shivered as she stood abruptly and wrapped her arms around herself. Her jaw was set, her shoulders squared as she paced to the back door and looked out onto the ragged patches of grass. “I’ll never set foot on the place, not so long as I live. If I have to take off down the road and live in a cave up in the mountains, I’ll do just that, rather than let him touch me again.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ve got a notion Doc talked to Sheriff Kincaid about you. I doubt your pa would stand a chance of making you go back home.”

“He said I was his property, just like his livestock, and I had to do whatever he said.” She grinned suddenly. “First time I ever enjoyed taking orders was when he said I had to leave by morning. I figured anyplace else was better than living there.”

She turned back toward Tess and approached the table. “I’m going to do a good job for Dr. Gray. He won’t be sorry he took me on.”

“He’s a kind man, Ellie. And you don’t have to worry about him ever taking advantage.” Tess looked down at her list, then nodded briskly. “I think this will do it.” She rose and pushed her chair beneath the edge of the table. “I’ll run on over to the store and get things together. You’re gonna need some clothesline and pins, too. I’ll warrant Doc’s got wash piled up.”

She was gone in a moment, and Ellie took a deep breath. There was so much to consider, things she’d taken for granted, like a scrub board and washtub to be located, and a supply of dish towels to be made. It was almost like having a home of her own, she decided. Almost.

“Eat your dinner first,” Ellie said as Win picked up his bag from the table. It had barely touched its surface when she delivered the news about the saloon girl, Cilla, and his hand had reached for it without pause. “I made you a pot of potato soup. Tess sent over a slab of bacon and I flavored it with that and a good big onion.”

Win hesitated, one hand rubbing his stomach in a distracted motion. “Maybe I’d better,” he said. “It’s hard to say how long I’ll be over at the saloon. And there’ll be folks coming in for afternoon office hours before long.”

He replaced his bag and turned to the sink. “I’ll just wash quick while you dish me up some soup, Ellie.”

She had it on the table in moments, slicing bread to go with it as he sat down and picked up his spoon. “Won’t you eat with me?” he asked, watching as fragrant steam rose from his bowl. His spoon dipped in and he blew on the creamy broth, then bit down on a chunk of potato. His eyes widened as he chewed and swallowed, then dipped again. “You got some secret recipe?” he asked. “This is wonderful.”

She shook her head. “I just scraped a little carrot in it, and thickened it up.” Pleased by his response, she dished up a portion in a second bowl and joined him. “You don’t mind if I eat with you?”

He glanced up, his brow furrowing at her words. “Of course not. I told you at breakfast time to sit down with me.” He ate silently for a moment, watching her. “Didn’t you share meals with your father?”

“He said it was a woman’s place to wait on menfolk.”

“He was wrong, Ellie, and don’t you forget it.” His tone was mild, but the look he bent in her direction was stern. His hand touched her arm, a gentle nudge that made her look up. “Women may get the short end of the stick when it comes to keeping a house in order and providing for the needs of her family, but it’s a man’s obligation to make her life as easy as he can. And that includes those to whom he pays a wage.”

And wasn’t that a different way of looking at things? Ellie thought with a start. That a man should be concerned about a woman’s well-being was a concept she’d never heard voiced. And yet, that seemed to be what Winston Gray was talking about.

She washed up the dinner things after he left for the saloon, his final words of instruction spoken as he walked out the door.

“Prop open the kitchen door and listen for the front door, Ellie. If patients come in, tell them I’ll be back directly. They can wait in the outer office for me.” He stuck his head back in the door. “If you have time, make a list of them as they come in and I’ll take them in order.”

So it was she came to be sitting at the small desk in his waiting room an hour later, talking to a young mother who held one sick child while Ellie amused another. Win’s brow rose and a grin curved his mouth as he caught her eye. “Send my first patient in, will you, Miss Mitchum?”

“Yes, sir,” she said agreeably, rising to settle the small girl on her chair as she picked up her list. “Mr. Taylor, you can go in now.”

The room held only three remaining patients as Win leaned through the office door more than an hour later. “I can finish up now, if you need to see to supper,” he told her quietly. And Ellie escaped thankfully to the kitchen, aware of the curious eyes that had watched her for the whole of the afternoon. No one had questioned her, yet all had paid her mind, and she felt she’d been on display, sitting behind the desk, calling out names, and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

The potatoes were ready for the oven and she placed them around the piece of beef she’d put in the roasting pan earlier. Carrots swam in the broth, and two onions sent a savory aroma upward as she opened the oven door. By the time the table was set, the last patient had taken his leave, and Win joined her in the kitchen.

“You were a big help, Ellie,” he told her, washing at the sink, his shirtsleeves rolled above his elbows. “I don’t usually have so many patients in an afternoon. I think they made up for yesterday.” He peered over her shoulder as she stirred flour and water into the pan, watching as it thickened into gravy. “You’ll have me spoiled.”

She felt a warmth take hold of her, and she turned her head to look up at him. “I think it would be a joy to spoil you, Dr. Gray.” And then she looked away, flustered at the words she’d spoken without forethought.

A flush crawled up his jaw and centered on his cheekbones. “Thank you. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time.” He turned away and sat at the table. “I saw the girl at the saloon, Ellie. I thought seriously about bringing her here for you to tend, but she didn’t want to leave her friends there.” He glanced up at her. “I didn’t know if it would be the right thing to do, anyway. I wouldn’t want folks to talk about having her here with you.”

“What would they say?” she asked, dishing up the meat and vegetables with ease. Placing the platter before him, she poured the gravy into a deep bowl. “If a woman’s been hurt, what does it matter who she is? If she needs taking care of, I reckon I can do it.”

“I thought you’d feel that way,” he said, dishing up food onto his plate. “But Cilla said she’d be all right, and the other girls will look out for her. I told Sheriff Kincaid about the ranch hand who hurt her, and I believe he’ll handle it. Not that most folks would think much of it.”

“What can he do?” Ellie asked, sitting down across the table from him.

Win shrugged. “Not an awful lot. Just warn him to behave himself. I don’t think Cam will let the fella in the place again anyway.”

Ellie took up her fork. “Did he hit her?”

“It wasn’t so much that, Ellie,” Win said slowly. “Billy’s set on stealing money that’s hidden in the foundation of the addition to the saloon. He made the mistake of telling Cilla about it, and then decided he’d better convince her not to spill the beans about his plan to anyone else.” His mouth was taut as he paused, as if he chose his words carefully. “Don’t repeat what I just told you, Ellie. Cilla told me in confidence and I probably shouldn’t have repeated it, but I’m certain I can trust you.”

His head bent as he spoke and Ellie remembered Tess’s words. There’s men who don’t care how they use a woman. What Tess had meant, Ellie wasn’t sure, but good sense prevented her from asking Win. Maybe it was like when Tommy had hurt her, that day in the barn. She’d bled, and ached something awful for a couple of days, as if there was something all torn up way inside of her.

“Do any of those women have babies?” she asked quietly.

“Babies?” Win sounded surprised. “I doubt it, Ellie. At least, not that I’ve ever heard about. Those girls pretty much know how to prevent such things from happening.”

And wasn’t that a puzzle. If Tommy had given her a baby from his shenanigans that day, it made sense that… She halted that line of thought and bent low over her plate. There were things she needed to be asking Tess, that was for sure, and one of these days, she’d get up the nerve.

For the first time in months, Winston Gray went to bed with a full stomach and the sure knowledge that a good breakfast would be awaiting him in the morning. He grinned to himself as he lay in the center of the big bed, his hands stacked beneath his head. Ellie was working out well. His house was clean, his pantry organized, and she was planning on using a scrub board to do his clothes, first thing tomorrow.

She’d washed her hair in the new bucket after supper, out on the back porch where she couldn’t be seen by those who might pass the house, and he’d watched from the doorway as she dried it with his newest towel. Her hands had been adept, brushing the length of soft, brown silken strands, then braiding them in a simple plait that hung down her back.

The sight bothered him, setting up a yearning he tried his best to dismiss. A woman was the last thing he needed in his life right now, what with his practice taking up all his time.

But, Ellie was proving to be a complication. She felt grateful to him, trying her best to make his life an easier path, and his very masculine self could not help but wallow in the attention she gave.

That her soft eyes rested on him often was a fact he tried diligently to ignore. That his own gaze focused on her at times was to be expected. She was a lovely woman, a girl really, he decided. Pregnant though she was, she projected an aura of innocence that brought forth his male urge to protect and cherish.

And those thoughts needed to be banished, he decided abruptly, rising from the bed to stalk to the window. Ellie Mitchum was his housekeeper, and he’d do well to look upon her as a servant. His snort of laughter was swallowed as amusement followed that thought. She was like no servant he’d ever come in contact with, and there’d been plenty of them in his life.

None of them had followed him to bed at night, as had the woman who slept overhead. Not in physical form, certainly, but in his mind. And she’d only been here for two days. He shifted restlessly, stretching one long arm to rest against the window frame.

Taking Ellie Mitchum into his home had been a hasty decision. Taking her into his life would surely follow. Already, she was keeping him awake and on the edge of arousal.

His mind spun as he considered the state of his body. Damn. Having a woman in his bed was the last thing he needed to be thinking of.

Visiting the saloon today had given him access to several women, any of whom would welcome him into their presence. All but poor Cilla, that victim of a cowhand whose idea of persuasion involved brutality.

Ellie was another victim. Not as was Cilla, but certainly worthy of his care. And for all of her innocence and eagerness to please, she was a woman. A warm, needy female, sleeping in his house. And if Dr. Winston Gray knew what was good for himself, he’d get her youthful beauty out of his mind.

Otherwise, he was going to spend a sleepless night.