A Bride in the Bargain Part 36

"I don't know. Not my business to know. I simply do the doctoring."

Good heavens.

"Do you regret ministering to him?" he asked.

She looked at him in surprise. "Of course not."

"Good."

They started back along on the boardwalk. At the intersection of Washington and First, Doc hesitated. "Would you mind if I stopped by Kellogg's Drug Store?"

"Not at all. I think I'm going to continue on to the Occidental, though."

He glanced up the street, clearly torn about leaving her to walk the last block alone.

"Go on," she said. "I'll be fine."

"Well, what about supper?"

"Not tonight, Doc. I'm going to retire early, if it's all right."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"What about tomorrow, then?" he asked. "Have you found a church?"

"I visited the Brown Church last week."

"Would you like to join Catherine and me this week? We attend the White Church."

She'd purposely avoided that one last Sunday. The only other time she'd been in it was when Joe had been expecting to marry her.

Still, she'd liked the preacher and she adored the Maynards. "I'd love to. I'll meet you there."

"Excellent. We'll see you then. And thank you for all your help."

"Anytime. Good night, Doc."

The walk up the steep hill required all her effort. In the last week she'd helped deliver a baby, extract a tooth, lance an infection, set a bone, soothe a colicky baby, treat a burn, and st.i.tch up more cuts and abrasions than she'd seen in a lifetime.

Placing one foot in front of the other, Anna gauged the distance to the Occidental. The last several yards were always the most daunting. Her legs ached at the exertion it took to traverse them.

Horses lined the hitching posts surrounding the hotel, and gas sconces on the front porch silhouetted a bevy of men. She groaned. The men had made a habit of lingering until she returned at night, all jumping to attendance when she arrived. She'd done everything she could to discourage them, but to no avail.

Just seeing them drained the last of her energy and patience. One by one, they straightened, like dogs with ears perked at their master's return. Before she even made it across the street, several rushed out to escort her to the door.

"Let me a.s.sist you, Miss Ivey."

"How was your day, miss?"

"May I treat you to supper?"

Politely refusing, she kept her eyes downcast, but she didn't have the wherewithal to protest when they took her elbows. She'd almost made it through the gauntlet and to the door when a voice stopped her.

"Anna?"

She ground to a halt, jerking her head up. "Joe? Joe! What are you doing here?"

She drank in the sight of him. He stood a head above the rest, his hair curling up tight in the evening air. The top two b.u.t.tons of his plaid shirt had slipped open as if they couldn't quite contain the width of his neck. His denim trousers outlined those muscular hips and thighs.

He gave the men on her arms a penetrating look, but they didn't relinquish their hold. If anything, their grips tightened. He took a step forward, his chest expanding. They straightened, holding their ground.

Good heavens. Gently disengaging herself from the men, she took a step toward Joe. He reached for her hand, touching it to his lips, then frowned.

The sweetness of his kiss turned to horror when she realized he smelled whiskey. He didn't say anything, of course. Not in front of the men. Nor could she explain without sounding ridiculous.

"You look terrible," he said.

She choked. The man on her left growled.

"I'm tired," she replied.

"Where have you been?"

"With the doc."

He tightened his lips. "He has no business keeping you out this late. Have you had your supper?"

"Not yet."

"Well, go clean yourself up and I'll have Nausley stoke the stove."

She arched a brow. Every man on this porch had been pestering her to share supper with them and that was the best Joe could do? You look terrible and go clean yourself up?

He must have had an inkling of her thoughts, for his cheeks filled with color. But he didn't rephrase his invitation nor relax his stance.

"I'm tired, Joe," she sighed.

He narrowed his eyes. "I left the house directly after breakfast, missed an entire day of work, and have been cooling my heels on this porch for hours. If you're too tired to freshen up before the meal, then you can go as you are."

He couldn't have established his territory more clearly had he crowed like a rooster. Before she took exception, though, his words began to sink in. He skipped work? And had been waiting on her? For hours?

"Now see here, Denton," the man on her right said, "if the lady doesn't-"

"Just give me a few minutes, Joe," she interjected, hoping to keep the men from coming to blows.

Lumberjacks loved nothing so much as a scuffle. It wouldn't matter to Joe that the other men weren't jacks. He was clearly itching for a fight, and she wasn't about to do any more doctoring today.

"You don't have to let him bully you, Miss Ivey," the man on her right said.

She smiled at him. "Thank you, sir. I don't mind having supper with him."

"Don't mind?" Joe said, the bite in his voice unmistakable.

Suppressing a smile, she gave him a deep curtsey. "I'd love to share my evening meal with you, Mr. Denton. If you would excuse me, though, I'd like to clean up first."

Relaxing, he gave her a nod. With as much dignity as she could muster, she went inside. It wasn't until she was safely tucked into her room that she allowed her smile to bloom.

Joe was here. And he'd been waiting for her. And if she wasn't mistaken, it had nothing to do with his land and everything to do with her. Racing to the washbasin, she poured water into it, stripped off her dress, and began to scrub the day's smells from her person.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

Joe had always known that maidens were an anomaly to the boys in town, but he'd never paid much attention to it before. Probably because there usually weren't any unmarried women around to bring out this particular phenomenon.

He was paying attention to it now, though. The men had simply moved from the porch to the dining room to do their gawking, making private conversation impossible.

Anna had changed into her maroon dress and straightened up her hair. She no longer smelled like whiskey, but she still looked terrible. Circles under her eyes. An unhealthy pallor to her skin. No appet.i.te.

It was all he could do to keep from gawking himself-but for entirely different reasons. He took a breath, planning to question her about her health, and about why she reeked of alcohol when she'd first arrived, then stopped himself. Every ear in the place was attuned to the exchanges they made. So he took a bite of food instead, not even tasting it.

She pushed hers around on her plate.

Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. "Is something wrong?" he asked quietly.

"No, no. I'm just . . ." She put down her fork. "My head hurts, actually."

Joe tugged his napkin from his neck and tossed it on the table. "Come on. Let's go get some fresh air."

She laid her hand on his arm, stalling him. "I think what I really need is to get some sleep."

He swallowed his disappointment. He knew she was right, but they'd barely said three sentences to each other.

Standing, he helped her to her feet. The men around them rose. He gave them a look that promised retribution if they so much as thought about following.

He wove Anna through the tapestry of men, the faintest hint of twinflower touching his nose. He smiled. She still packed her things in the blooms he'd placed in her trunk.

He looked at her dress more closely. It didn't appear as if she'd made herself a petticoat. But had she made herself anything else?

As soon as they cleared the door, the men reluctantly settled back into their seats.

"I'm sorry, Joe," she whispered.

"It's all right."

At the stairs leading up to the rooms, Joe still couldn't say what he wanted to. Not with Collins behind the counter watching and listening with rapt attention.

"Congratulations on your land," she said. "I'm so, so glad you didn't lose it."

"Thank you. Me too."

She made to leave, but he snagged her elbow. "Do you think you'll be well enough to go to church tomorrow?"

"I'm not sick, Joe. Just tired. And yes. I of course plan to attend church."

"Will you let me escort you?"

Struggling to keep her eyes open, she stifled a yawn. "Yes."

"I'll see you in the morning, then." He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "Sleep tight."

"I will. You too."

She trudged up the stairs. Just watching her made him angry. He couldn't wait to get ahold of Maynard. The man must have dragged her all over the Territory and back again. Well, Joe would put a stop to that. And he'd do it before church tomorrow.

"She's dead on her feet, I'm telling you." Joe stood in Doc's surgery room watching him pack his medical bag for the day.

"She was fine when I left her last night," Maynard said. "Did she complain of anything?"

"She didn't have to complain. Anybody with eyes could see she wasn't well."

"Then why did you drag her to supper instead of letting her go to bed and rest?"

"She needed to eat."

The doc moved to a pot of hot water his wife had brought in earlier. "What are you doing here, Joe?"

Sighing, he moderated his tone. "I'm worried you're overworking her. It was well after dark when she returned to the hotel and on a Sat.u.r.day, no less."

"I see. She didn't cook for your crew on Sat.u.r.days?"

"That was different."

"Oh. At your place she finished serving, cleaning, and preparing for the next day all before dark?"

Joe hesitated. "It's not the same. I know you. You go from one patient to the next without ever taking a break."

"Really?" Maynard swished an instrument in the water, then scrubbed it with a soapy rag. "Interesting."

"Don't patronize me, Doc. Anna isn't well. You need to remember she's female and must make concessions because of it."