A Bride in the Bargain Part 34

Guilt over his loss slowed her steps. It wasn't too late. She could tell the doctor she'd changed her mind, then find Joe and marry him. She knew he was in town. The men had made sure to tell her last night at dinner.

She'd watched for him all evening, lingering over dinner, rocking on the porch, taking a stroll through town. But she never saw him, and if she had, what would she have said? That she was sorry about his land? A rather paltry statement, all things considered.

He wouldn't believe her anyway. Not when she had it within her power to rectify the situation. Still, her refusal to marry him didn't mean she wouldn't mourn for his loss. Wouldn't harbor guilt over it. She would. And she'd do so for a long, long time.

Slipping into her room, she poured water into the basin. At least with this new job she'd be able to start paying him back for her accommodations. And the sooner she released him from any sense of obligation he might feel, the better for both of them.

Joe stood in the Central Store staring at the doc.u.ment in his hands. He'd stopped by Hind's to give him a list of supplies when the grocer had handed him his mail.

"How long has this been here?" Joe asked, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.

Hind shrugged his bony shoulders. "About a month."

"A month? Why didn't you give it to Red?"

"Wasn't addressed to Red."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Hind rubbed the lens of his spectacles with his ap.r.o.n. "Denny doesn't like it when we give mail out to anyone but the person it's addressed to. Denny was Postmaster long before me, you know."

Joe tamped down his exasperation. If only he had stopped at the store when he'd brought Anna to town last week. "From now on, you can give my mail to Red. And if Arthur Denny doesn't like it, you have him come speak to me."

Stepping out onto the boardwalk, Joe glanced up at the sky. All this time. A copy of Lorraine's death certificate had been sitting in the Central Store this whole entire month.

It hadn't burnt in the courthouse fire because his aunt had it. Heard he needed it and mailed it to him.

He fingered the doc.u.ment. Lorraine Cowden Denton had been written across the middle in elaborate Edwardian script by some unknown clerk. Some clerk who filled out a dozen of these a day. Who had no idea of the beautiful girl whose life had been snuffed out before her time. The girl who'd married one Joseph Roy Denton when the daisies were in bloom.

What a puppy he'd been back then. Full of enthusiasm and optimism and adventure. He'd packed a lot into the intervening years. How would all those years have been different if he'd had a woman by his side?

But it wasn't Lorraine he was picturing. It was Anna. Anna tripping down the steps and sending potatoes to every corner of the yard. Being caught in her underclothes while ironing her dress. Sorting seash.e.l.ls with her tongue trapped between her teeth. Cleaning his house until it shone. Washing his clothes, then secreting them away in his drawers. Kissing him until his entire world narrowed down to nothing but her. Only her.

Taking a deep breath, he turned north and headed to Judge Rountree's place. It was of no consequence now. The important thing was that n.o.body could ever threaten to take his land from him again. Not Tillney, not the judge, not anybody.

Immense satisfaction washed over him. The spring in his step lessened, however, when the what-ifs began to run through his head. What if his aunt hadn't gotten word? What if he'd not stopped by the Central Store? What if he'd married Bertha? What if he'd married Anna?

The thought brought him up short. What if he had married Anna? Would he have been sorry?

No. Not even close.

And in the middle of that glorious Seattle morning, with wagons kicking up dust and merchants sweeping their landings and horses dozing at the rails, Joe realized what he'd only suspected before. He was in love with Anna Ivey of Granby, Ma.s.sachusetts. That without her, his land was not near the prize he thought it was.

He played their kiss back in his mind for the thousandth time. What he'd missed before was now glaringly obvious. When she'd asked him if he loved her, he'd never given her an answer. Because he hadn't known. Not for certain. Not with his land hanging in the balance.

But he knew the answer now. And he needed to convey it to Anna. Telling her wouldn't be enough, though. Not anymore.

"Watch out!"

A ball of brown yarn sailed toward him. Instinctively, he caught it.

One of Sprygley's sons broke away from the group of boys playing shinny in an empty lot.

"Sorry, Mr. Denton! Ernie hit the thing a little too hard."

Joe tossed him the yarn. "It's all right. Who's winning?"

"We are!" Waving, the boy raced back to the center of the lot, placed the ball at his base, and struck it with a shaved tree branch. The game ensued, each boy trying to move the ball toward the opposing team's goal with their shinny-sticks.

Joe took a moment to watch, wondering for the first time what it would be like to have a son of his own. Would he look like Anna or himself or a mix of the two?

His thoughts veered toward the creating of those sons and again he pictured Anna in her threadbare underclothes. He straightened. That was it. He'd buy her some fabric for a new petticoat, corset, shift, and drawers. A man's intentions would be pretty clear were he to give a woman a present like that.

He hesitated. His intentions could also be completely misconstrued. Perhaps he should include cloth for a bridal gown along with the cotton. No mistaking that. But first he needed to see Judge Rountree. As soon as all was settled concerning his land, he'd return to Hind's store and make his purchases.

Doc Maynard pulled up the buggy next to a white picket fence surrounding a well-kept lawn and a gable-roofed house. The attractive home was shaded by maple trees, set back from the street and had a wide porch lined with spice pinks and lavender. They had no more come to a stop when the most beautiful woman Anna had ever seen burst through the front door.

"One fell off the barn loft and broke his leg," she cried. "You need to get over to the Rountrees' right away."

Doc waved, turned the horse around, and whipped the reins. Anna glanced back at the woman. Was that Doc Maynard's wife? She was so young. So beautiful. So . . . unexpected.

She looked again at the doctor. He wasn't homely, of course, but neither was he handsome in the cla.s.sical sense. Oh, he had fine shoulders, but not as big and broad as Joe's. His salt-and-pepper hair had a bit of a wave to it, but nothing like Joe's blond curls. His blue eyes were nice, but nothing like- She closed her eyes and forced Joe from her mind. It was over. Done. He didn't love her. He loved his land. And as soon as he'd realized she wouldn't help him gain it back, he'd cut her loose.

The horse's hooves clipped at a rapid pace, jingling its harness and making the buggy sway. Way up in the distance, she could make out a team of oxen pulling a huge load of logs down Skid Road.

Joe's oxen wouldn't have to do that anymore. Not with his log chute.

Gritting her teeth at the direction of her thoughts, Anna turned to the doc. "Who's broken a leg?"

"One. Judge Rountree's oldest."

Ah, yes. One, Two, Three, and Four. How could she have forgotten? She had to think a moment before the boy's nickname came to her, then along with Sprout's name came memories of his smile and freckles and scuffed knees.

She furrowed her brows, praying the break wasn't a bad one. She'd seen many breaks, especially during the war, that left the unfortunate victim with a limp or worse.

Though the sun was out, the road was still muddy from rains earlier in the week. Doc said little as they drove past a smattering of houses and toward the center of town. A scruffy dog ran out into the street, barking and yipping at their wheels before abandoning his chase.

A few minutes later, Doc stopped the buggy in front of the ornate home Joe had brought her to that first day after her arrival. The Rountrees' lot covered almost an entire block. Long windows with inside wooden blinds flanked the sides of the house. The front paneled door had tiny panes of gla.s.s on either side. And a bell for visitors to ring dangled from a post on the porch.

Doc jumped from the seat, grabbed his bag, and turned to offer her a hand.

"Go, go," Anna said, shooing him. "I'll secure the horse and meet you in the barn."

He didn't argue but ran off, his coattails flapping. She checked the brake, wrapped the reins on the dash rail, and hung on to the wing as her booted toe felt blindly for a foothold.

A few minutes later she hurried behind the house. The cries and whimpers coming from within the barn had her lifting her skirts and running the rest of the way with no regard for the puddles of mud on the path.

As she slipped inside, the smell of manure hit her like a wave from the ocean. Flies buzzed about her face, her ears, her hair. Just below a loft in the back, a half dozen people holding lanterns huddled around what she a.s.sumed was the boy.

But it was the tallest man that caught her attention. He'd looked up as soon as she entered. And the spurt of joy she felt at seeing Joe was quickly overshadowed by the concern on his face.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

She was here. He wanted to tell her. About his mail. About his land. About his love. But now wasn't the time or place. Besides, he hadn't had a chance to buy the fabric. He and the judge had just concluded their business when Two had burst into the room with news of Sprout's accident.

Joe hoped the boy's break wasn't compound, not just for Sprout's sake, but for Anna's. He wasn't sure what she was doing here, nor if she had the const.i.tution for this sort of thing.

He wondered if she had somehow heard and come to a.s.sist. She might have been an excellent nurse for Joe, but that was quite a bit different than dealing with emergencies like this.

As it was, she showed no visible reaction to her initial sight of Sprout or the smells around her as she settled next to Maynard. The boy's head lay cradled in his mother's lap while she smoothed his brown hair and softly sang nursery rhymes Joe hadn't heard in years. Anna gave the woman's arm a comforting squeeze.

Mrs. Bretchtel, a well-padded woman from down the street, bustled in with a batch of clean towels. Her fourteen-year-old son, who'd yet to shed his baby fat, followed behind with a pot of hot water.

"Here's the water, Doc," he said. "The judge is pulling nails out of a one-by-four plank. Said he'd be right in."

"Thank you, son." Doc finished cutting Sprout's pants up the seams and across the top of the leg, then peeled the soiled fabric off.

Sprout cried out. His shin had swollen to twice its normal size. Blood trickled from a jagged cut imbedded with bits of dirt and trouser.

Joe let out a sigh of relief. The break wasn't compound-no bone protruded from the boy's leg.

Doc withdrew a block of soap from his bag. "Come, Miss Ivey. We need to wash up."

Joe had never seen a doctor with such a penchant for cleanliness, but everyone humored him. If the man wanted to wash every other minute, so be it. But why had he asked Anna to wash, as well?

She rose, and when Maynard began rolling up his sleeves, she did the same.

"You'll find a small flask of chloroform in my bag," he said, giving his hands and arms a vigorous scrub. "Pour a few drops onto a towel and hold it a couple of inches from One's nose."

Nodding, she washed and dried her hands, but left her sleeves up. Joe honed in on the bit of skin she'd exposed. White. Delicate. And, he'd be willing to bet, soft.

"Keep the chloroform off his face, though. He doesn't need to be put out."

Anna did as instructed, and the boy began to relax until May-nard felt along the injury.

"No!" Sprout jerked, causing more pain from his movement than from the exam.

"Shhhhh." Mrs. Rountree shooed a fly from Sprout's face, then continued to stroke him, tears slipping from her eyes.

"It huuuuurts!"

"I know, but you must try and hold still, darling."

"Keep count of his pulse, Miss Ivey," Maynard said. "It shouldn't be abnormally fast, slow, or faint."

Anna touched her fingers to his wrist.

Doc finished his examination, then glanced at the judge, who'd come in with a small wooden plank. "It's not a severe break. It should heal in a few weeks. I'll splint it, then you can move him inside, where he'll be more comfortable." He glanced about the circle of men, stopping when he got to Joe. "Do you think you can hold the chloroform for Miss Ivey?"

Nodding, Joe handed his lantern to the judge and squatted beside Anna. Un.o.btrusively, he squeezed her fingertips in the exchanging of the cloth. She glanced up, then immediately returned her attention to the boy.

Doc pulled a roll of bandage material and a shiny silver dish from his bag and handed them to Anna. "Pour some of that hot water in this bowl, add several ounces of laudanum, and soak the bandage in the mixture."

Anna moved to do as instructed while Maynard began to clean the wound with some peroxide of hydrogen. Joe kept the chloroform close to Sprout's nose. The fumes were strong and unpleasant.

The boy's glazed eyes focused on him. "Wuz your name?"

Joe tried not to show any alarm at the question. Had the boy broken more than his leg in the fall?

"It's Joe. You remember me now, don't you?"

"I mean your real name."

Frowning, Joe glanced up at Mrs. Rountree.

"I believe he means your full name," she said.

"Joseph Roy Denton."

The boy searched the sea of faces above him until he found his father's. "That's what I wanna be called. Joseph Roy."

Joe's breath left him as if he'd taken a swift blow to the stomach. The boy was choosing a name? Right now? And he was choosing Joe's?

Anna held the splint against Sprout's leg while Maynard wrapped it in the laudanum-soaked bandage. Tears spilled from the boy's eyes, but he held back his cries.

"Well, I'm very pleased to meet you, Joseph Roy Rountree." The judge's voice sounded as if it had been through a meat grinder.

Joe couldn't tell if it was because of the pain Sprout was in or because of the name his son had chosen. After a moment, the boy began to relax once again.

"I'm gonna go by Roy," he said, his eyes heavy. "So's we don't get confused."

Rountree nodded. "I think that's a fine idea."

Sprout turned his attention back to Joe. "I'm gonna be a lumberjack. Just like you."

Joe smiled. "You'll make a fine one, son. I'm sure of it."

Sprout closed his eyes and Joe counted his pulse. Good and steady.

"That's what I was doin'," Sprout said, eyes still shut.