Winning The Doctor's Heart (Mail-Order Brides of Salvation 3) Read online

  Daniel’s medical training told him that the end was near.

  His heart refused to believe it.

  “No point in fussing over me.” Kenneth had always been so full of life. Hearing his agonized whisper broke Daniel’s heart. “What day is it?”

  “Fourth of September.”

  “She’ll be here soon.” He gasped for air. “You have to take my place.”

  Daniel laid his hand on Kenneth’s forehead—too hot, and sticky. The tinge of his brother’s skin told him that Kenneth likely wouldn’t last the day. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Kenneth was a good man. He didn’t deserve this miserable death.

  He pushed back the anger and kept his tone even as he got up to prepare another dose of morphine, to ease his brother’s last hours.

  “Who is Anne, Kenneth, and what do you need me to do?” He’d have done anything to save his brother. But he couldn’t throw himself in front of that shotgun blast after the fact, could he? No, Kenneth was the hero.

  Daniel was a failure.

  “So gentle…she doesn’t know…all alone.”

  Delirious, Daniel thought. Not that he was surprised, given the shape his brother was in. But Kenneth had been so lucid up until now, seeing his mind suddenly slip was too much. He fumbled the syringe, accidentally poked himself in the finger. Gritted his teeth. Then tried once more to insert the fine needle into the morphine vial.

  “Daniel, promise.”

  “Promise what?” Daniel slid the plunger upward until the syringe contained a full dose. Slowly, he returned to his brother’s bedside. He’d barely slept for two days, and his rage at the unfairness of Kenneth’s impending death added to the unsteadiness of his hands.

  He took several deep breaths before turning Kenneth’s arm over and administering the shot. The largest dose he felt he could give without risk of killing his brother.

  Better to give him a little too much. Save Kenneth from another day of suffering. But he couldn’t do it, not even for his brother. He was a healer, not a killer.

  “She’s coming, Daniel. Promise me.”

  Daniel set the syringe on the nearby table, then leaned back in his wooden chair and forced his face into a neutral expression. “Who?”

  “She’s going to be all alone. Don’t let her be all alone.” Kenneth’s face started to go slack—the morphine was kicking in. “The train…tomorrow...”

  “Rest, brother.”

  “You have to marry her,” Kenneth mumbled.

  Did he say ‘marry’? “What did you do?”

  “Letters. Pillow. Please.” Kenneth coughed as he tried to sit up. “Anne?”

  “No. Stay put. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Promise you’ll marry her.”

  Kenneth was fighting the morphine. Trying to stay awake. Daniel felt his heart breaking. Even on his death bed, Kenneth was more worried about someone else than about his own situation.

  “I promise.” Kenneth could have asked him to marry a goat and Daniel would have agreed, just to save his brother the struggle. “I promise.”

  Marriage wasn’t something Daniel was ready to consider for at least a few more years. And he certainly wasn’t ready to marry someone he knew nothing about.

  If Kenneth had been courting a girl in Salvation, Daniel would have known. He had to be talking about a mail-order bride. Some poor desperate girl with no future back East.

  Little did she know, there was no future for her here, either.

  Minutes later…or was it hours? Daniel rubbed at his eyes as his aunt patted him on the shoulder.

  “I’ll watch my nephew for a spell,” she said.

  “He said I have to marry her.”

  Aunt Beatrice didn’t hesitate. “We’ll sort it out after you’ve slept. I’ll meet Anne at the station.”

  Wait. Daniel blinked. “You knew?”

  The older woman smiled. “Kenneth might’ve mentioned her once or twice.”

  “He never said a thing to me.” It was completely irrational—who cared about some strange women when his brother was dying? But it hurt that Kenneth had kept it a secret. Especially now. It would be the last secret they’d ever share.

  Daniel gritted his teeth together to keep the pain from showing on his face. “I’m not marrying her.”

  “We’ll talk about it after you’ve slept, dear.”

  But Daniel didn’t want to sleep. Ever again.

  Chapter 3

  Anne thanked the porter who retrieved her battered valise and placed it on the platform next to hear.

  “Any trunks, Miss?”

  She shook her head, blushing. When she’d left the orphanage she’d had almost nothing—a spare dress and set of underthings, a hairbrush, a Bible donated by the church that sponsored the orphanage. In the eight years she’d been working as a tutor, her meagre wages had paid for the bare necessities and not much more. She hoped Kenneth wouldn’t mind her secondhand clothes or her lack of a trousseau. Even if she could have afforded a hope chest, it would have been empty.

  The train platform was unnervingly empty—aside from Anne and the porter, she saw only an older couple disembarking the train and an elderly woman approaching the wooden platform steps.

  No young men wearing deputy badges in sight.

  She gazed down the street, hoping to see her fiancé hurrying in her direction. It was a wide dirt street, with boards laid down along the edges to save pedestrians’ shoes. Mostly wood buildings along either side, except the jail, the general store and the bank, which were built of dull-red brick. Not a lot of traffic either. A farmer in a mule-wagon, pulling up to the general store with a load of vegetables. Several horses tied up near a trough outside the saloon. A tailor’s shop, which appeared to be closed at the moment. She probably shouldn’t have been surprised to find the town so quiet at noon. In this heat, she’d have stayed inside too, if she’d had the choice.

  Where was he?

  Maybe Kenneth had been delayed by his duties. A sheriff’s deputy had no choice but to work when criminals broke the law. Well, she couldn’t blame him for doing his job, even if it was inconvenient for her. She’d find a place to eat and ask for directions to the sheriff’s office. She’d be fine until he was free to join her.

  Anne picked up her valise, strode to the stairs. The elderly woman she’d seen earlier—frail-looking in spite of her plump frame, with kind eyes peeking out from under a ridiculously-ruffled purple bonnet—stood at the bottom, leaning on her cane as if contemplating how she might find the energy to take the first step up.

  “Can I help you up, Ma’am?” Anne extended her hand.

  The woman smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I see my Kenneth has made a fine choice.”

  “You know who I am?” Oh, of course. Kenneth had mentioned that his Aunt Beatrice lived with Kenneth’s brother Daniel, a doctor who kept an eye on the older woman in her dotage. Apparently their aunt had stepped in and raised both boys when their mother had died of scarlet fever. “Please forgive my manners, Mrs. Carter. You must be hot. May I walk you home?”

  “A fine choice, indeed. You’re just what he needs. You may call me Beatrice.” The older woman motioned for Anne to join her on the street and pointed with her cane. “That way.”

  “Is Kenneth on duty?” Anne asked once they were away from the other people. “In his last letter, he said he planned to meet me at the station.”

  “Oh, dear girl, if there had been a way for him to be here, he would have come.”

  Anne heard sadness in her voice, but Beatrice’s expression was hidden by the abundance of floppy purple ruffles. “What are you not telling me?”

  “It isn’t my place to explain, but I will take you to the person who can.”

  Cold, hard dread settled in the pit of Anne’s stomach. Why was an explanation necessary? Had Kenneth changed his mind? The last letter she’d received from him gave the impression that he could hardly wait to meet her in person. Why would he pay for a ticket to
bring her all the way out here if he didn’t intend to marry her? Was this some sort of swindle?

  What would she do if he refused to marry her? Jobs for women on the frontier were fewer and farther between than they had been in the city. Her options back home had been limited to maid positions. What if she couldn’t even find work as a maid out here? Was there a demand for washerwomen? She didn’t sew well enough to hire out her services there. What else was there? Would she be reduced to selling herself as a saloon girl?

  Never. She would stow away on a train back to New York before she’d stoop so low.

  She wanted to insist that Beatrice explain everything right now. But Kenneth’s aunt kept walking, and it would be rude to demand answers here in the middle of the street. Besides, there was no point in causing a scene before she understood her situation.

  Whatever it was, she decided, she would find out faster by going with Beatrice. And she would face it with squared shoulders and raised chin, just like she’d faced being expelled from the orphanage. And losing the scholarship. And every other horrible thing that had ever happened to her.

  As they walked down Salvation’s main street, Beatrice pointed out the general store, the church, the jail. Anne nodded agreeably, even though she’d seen almost the whole town from the train platform.

  “Our town is small, but the people here are like a big family.”

  Anne decided to take it as a good sign that Beatrice was showing her around—why would she bother if she didn’t expect Anne to stay? “I’m happy to hear it. I’ve always hated the indifference of the big city.”

  “Kenneth told me you were employed as a tutor.”

  Was Beatrice hinting that Anne should start looking for a job? “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “He also told me that you didn’t enjoy it.” The older woman paused for a moment and peeked around her bonnet’s edge to glance at Anne. “Do you not like children?”

  “I didn’t like the children that I’d been hired to teach.” But not all children are little monsters. And if they were mine… “I’m eager to start a family with Kenneth, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Beatrice didn’t look happy to hear it. Was she opposed to Kenneth settling down? Or had she already decided that Anne wouldn’t be a suitable wife?

  Gripping the handle of her valise more tightly, Anne resumed walking.

  “Here’s the clinic, dear.” Beatrice nodded at one of the larger buildings in town, a two-story wood building with a shingle hanging near the door. Daniel Murdock, MD.

  Anne’s stomach clenched at the prospect of meeting Kenneth’s brother. She hoped she’d find her fiancé inside. Then, realizing what it might mean, she hoped she wouldn’t. “Is Kenneth sick?”

  “Let’s go inside. I’ll make tea.”

  Beatrice’s refusal to answer unnerved Anne to no end.

  Inside the clinic, the air was tinged with a strange astringent odor, and beneath that, the cloying smell of sickness and rancid sweat. Anne resisted the urge to cover her nose and mouth with her hand. It looked clean though. White walls, dark wood floor, a plain wooden cross on the wall. It wasn’t much cooler in here than it had been outside. How long would it take her to get used to this heat?

  Beatrice limped past and disappeared down a long hallway, leaving Anne alone in what appeared to be a waiting room—a desk piled with books and papers in one corner, and eight wooden chairs along the walls. At the far end, an open doorway.

  Anne gathered up her courage and walked through, into the clinic proper.

  A dark-haired man in a worn white coat—Daniel, she presumed—bent over the arm of an ancient-looking man in denim overalls and stained red shirt. Daniel sliced through one wet-looking sleeve and peeled the fabric away from his patient’s forearm.

  Not wet, bloody. The man had several shards of broken glass sticking out of the fleshy part of his forearm, near the elbow.

  Daniel looked over at Anne. His eyes were a striking blue. She could see how kind and gentle they were, in spite of the deep shadows beneath them.

  “Welcome to Salvation, Miss Schroeder,” he said in a strong, decisive voice. “Please, wait outside. I don’t want you to faint.”

  He picked up a pair of tweezers and spritzed them with a glass atomizer of clear liquid. A sweet scent filled the clinic. Carbolic acid, Anne realized. For sterilizing medical instruments.

  As Daniel began to pick glass out of the injured man’s arm, he sighed. “Please, Miss Schroeder. I don’t need another patient.”

  How insulting! It probably wasn’t the man’s intention. Many women—and even some men—couldn’t stomach the sight of blood or an open wound. But she was made of sterner stuff.

  Without answering, she set down her valise, removed her travelling gloves and stepped closer. Grabbing the atomizer, she proceeded to sterilize and thread the needle on the table beside the doctor.

  “What are you—“ He turned toward her and froze as she offered him the needle.

  “It’s sterile.” She held up the atomizer with her other hand. “Carbolic, right?”

  Daniel blinked. “You’re a nurse?”

  Anne shook her head. “But I’ve read some of the manuals at Bellevue.”

  “An odd pursuit for a mail-order bride.” He pointed at a wooden rod about three of her fingers in diameter which rested on his supply table. “You know what to do with that?”

  She picked up the rod, which had many small indentations near each of the ends. Oh. She held it up near the patient’s mouth. “Bite down on this, please.”

  The man blanched, but he let her position the stick between his teeth.

  She watched as Daniel carefully worked another piece of glass out of the farmer’s arm. He twisted around to deposit the bloody shard in a small metal bowl on the side table.

  Anne picked up the bowl and carried it around to Daniel’s other side, so that he could dispose of the glass without having to remove his focus from the patient’s wound.

  “Thanks,” he grunted.

  The patient was panting hard and sweating by the time Daniel had finished making seven stitches in his arm.

  Anne fetched a roll of gauze while Daniel tied off the last stitch, and held one end in place as he circled the patient’s arm with the roll several times, tightly binding the wounds shut. Then she waited while Daniel fashioned a makeshift sling from a length of fabric for the injured farmer and showed him out, instructing him to keep his arm as still as possible for the next week and to come back if he saw any sign of infection.

  “So you’re the woman my brother was going to marry.” Daniel asked from the open door, while wiping up his hands.

  “What do you mean, was? Where’s Kenneth?”

  The words seemed to strike Daniel like a blow. In fact, he looked like he needed a doctor.

  “My brother died a few hours ago,” he said so softly that she almost didn’t hear him. “He was badly wounded during a train robbery. Shotgun. I couldn’t save him.”

  “I am so sorry,” Anne clutched the edge of the supply table as the world tilted. She should have known that Kenneth wouldn’t bring her out to a strange land only to abandon her. But, dead? His letters had been filled with so much life. So much enthusiasm. So much kindness. Now she would never see him smile. “I—”

  “Don’t worry,” the doctor interrupted her. His expression went tight. “I’ll take care of everything. Kenneth asked me to make sure that you find a good husband, and I’ll do just that.”

  “What?” Anne couldn’t believe that the Kenneth she knew would pass her along like some piece of luggage. “Were those Kenneth’s exact words?”

  Daniel’s face was unreadable.

  “No,” he admitted. “My brother asked me to marry you.”

  Her knees went weak. “I don’t…there’s no…”

  “Don’t worry, I have no intention of doing any such thing.”

  She could see the savage pain on his face—he’d just lost his brother, for goodness sake, of course he d
idn’t want to get married. But somehow that didn’t stop her from feeling humiliated at his harsh rejection.

  Pull yourself together, woman.

  She fought hard to regain her composure. “If you’ll direct me to a hotel—”

  “I said I’d take care of you. You won’t be inconvenienced.” He looked away. “I’m sorry.”

  “I understand. You’re mourning your brother, and I’m an unexpected burden.”

  “You’re not—“ He stopped himself. Clenched his jaw several times. Started again. “I’ve arranged for you to stay at the boardinghouse down the street. If you want to go home, I’ll buy you a train ticket. If you want to stay and try to find a husband, my aunt’s agreed to serve as matchmaker.”

  Anne swallowed. “That’s very generous. Thank you.”

  “If you don’t mind, I haven’t slept in days.” His shoulders slumped. Poor Daniel. She couldn’t imagine how horrible it would be to sit by your brother’s bedside for days, helpless, while he died.

  “When is the funeral?”

  “What?”

  Why did he look so confused? “You are holding services for Kenneth, are you not?”

  “You want to come to the funeral?”

  “I know, I never laid eyes on Kenneth. But I’ve been corresponding with him for the past six months. He seemed a good man. I would very much like to honor his passing.”

  “Tomorrow morning. I’m sure Mrs. Smith, the boardinghouse owner, will show you the way. She was quite fond of Kenneth.” Daniel suddenly turned away. “Please leave. I have arrangements to make.”

  I’ll help, she was tempted to say. But it was clear to her that he didn’t want help. At least, not from her. So she exited the clinic without another word, retrieving her valise on her way out, and asked the first passerby she met for directions to the boardinghouse.

  The boy pointed out a whitewashed building several blocks away. The proprietress was expecting her.

  “Doctor’s already paid for a week’s stay,” Mrs. Smith said, ushering Anne into a small but tidy room. “Let me know if you need anything.”