Healing Hearts (Easton Series #2) (10 page)

Chapter 14

  
I
t hadn’t
taken a lamb tail shake for Hannah to weave herself into the wool of Wounded
Colt society. Jed realized she was kicking up a storm when Easton asked him to
join a card-players group, and then the men peppered him with questions about
her between hands. Did Doc Hannah like Wounded Colt? What books did she read?
Watkins wanted to know if there any items she wanted, but couldn’t find, at the
general store. Farrell pointedly asked him if he’d consider making Hannah his
naked partner, letting lose with the fact that the whole town, especially the
womenfolk, liked Hannah and expected a damned romance.

  
Jed couldn’t let himself think
about such things even if he’d had a pleasant dream that very evening: He
stroked Hannah’s shoulders, touching warm ivory flesh. Absorbing her warmth appealed
to him in ways it shouldn’t.
I won’t hurt
you
,
he reassured her
.
I’m going to help you forget the fire
.

  
It helps
,
she admitted
quietly.
My mother rubbed my back
when I was little, but your hands are bigger, and more practiced
.

  
His heart ached and it felt like
he had fist in his gut. Offering comfort came naturally to Jed, and part of him
wanted to give her something more. He’d searched his memory for an image to
power his strokes, and a recollection eased into his consciousness -- a vague
ghost of himself sitting on a porch swing with Mariah. He was holding her hand
and entertaining the idea of marrying her. In his dream he bent forward and
trailed kisses from the nape of Hannah’s neck to her cheek. It was easy to be
with her, mostly because she had no demands, no expectations of a man. Her
affection was pure and sweet guileless; it asked nothing in return.

  
Jed woke, feeling restless and
rueful. He had no right to feel her skin beneath his fingers, even if only in a
dream, even if it offered him great comfort.

  
The day dragged, and the evening
brought a quiet surprise: Hannah was hauling him over to Hawkins’ hotel for a meal
she’d bartered in exchange for a painting.

  
“Has John Hawkins seen your
painting?”

  
“Oh no!
 
Nelda wants to spring it on him. I hope
he’ll like it.” Her arm was raised high to keep the clutched canvas above the
dusty street as she darted between wagons.

  
“It’s one of your best.” Jed had
observed as she created the piece, and he was secretly hoping to hang it in the
surgery. He’d received many compliments on her first work, and the scenes were a
soothing distraction for his patients.
 

  
Jed drew air into his lungs and quickened
his step to arrive at the hotel door ahead of Hannah. He opened it for her, and
she sashayed past him into the small lobby. Proprietor John Hawkins was peering
through spectacles at a ledger on the desk, and he stiffened when he saw the
doctoring duo. He peeled off the wire-framed glasses with a nervous hand and
set them down with a clack on the counter.
 

  
“Well, g-good evening Docs,” he
stuttered.

  
Rutherford instinctively rushed to
ease Hawkins’ visible anxiety. The man looked like his knees were on the verge
of buckling. “Oh, we’re just here for supper. Sam came over earlier, but, not
to worry, it wasn’t to tell us Nelda’s labor started.”

  
“Oh,” Hawkins replied, but oddly,
he didn’t seem relieved, and he pounded a rigid hand on the front desk. “Go on
in.”

  
They turned toward the arch
leading to the dining room, but just then Nelda caught sight of Hannah and
hurried out to greet them.

  
“Oh, you brought it!”
 

  
“Yes,” Hannah intoned as she
backed up and lifted the painting from below her waist to the desk height so
the hotelkeeper could view it.

  
Hawkins could barely keep the look
of horror from his face. His eyes widened as if he’d seen a ghost.

  
Jed was dumb founded, and Hawkins quickly
recovered from his reaction, but not before Hannah caught a piece of it and
jerked back as if scalded by hot water. Nelda didn’t seem to notice the
commotion, as she was so engaged by the painting and a sudden kick from the
babe in her belly.

  
“Oh, the baby likes it!” She cried
out.

  
Her husband’s face softened. “It’s
fine, but I don’t think we can afford ---“

  
“Oh yes we can! Doctor Hannah is
trading it for supper this evening.”

  
Hawkins was flustered. “Certainly
it’s worth more than –“

  
“It’s my pleasure to have you
display it in your establishment,” Hannah edged into the conversation.

  
Hawkins swallowed and nodded. “Of
course. Of course. Thank you.” He managed a taut smile. Nelda hooked arms with
Jed and Hannah, and guided them, waddling with one on each side of her, into
the dining room.

  
“Oh, he was so surprised! He loves
it!” Nelda bubbled with the glow of impending motherhood.

  
“Yes, indeed,” Hannah muttered.

  
After Nelda seated them in a
secluded corner and lit candles, Jed scratched his head.
 

  
“What is it?” Hannah unfolded the
fine linen napkin and dropped it into her lap.

  
“Hawkins is a puzzle. He was wary,
as if he expected something bad to jump out of your painting and attack him.”

  
“I agree. He reacted strangely to the
gift.”

  
“Likely he was overwhelmed by the
beauty of it, and worried about the price, until his wife mentioned the easy
bargain she made.”

  
“Yes, or perhaps he’s on edge,
with the baby coming and all.”

  
Nelda came back with water, and
announced the menu: Pork, potatoes, cornbread, baked carrots, and apple pie and
coffee, and more apple pie if it pleased them. Jed laughed, as it was the first
time Nelda had made such an offer.

  
“You sure you want to give away
the house?” he joked.

  
Nelda giggled. “Loosen your pants,
cowboy! You can have anything except my new painting,” she shot the last words over
her shoulder as she shuffled to the kitchen.

  
Hannah beamed. The candlelight
cast a warm glow on her face, and somehow Jed felt too much like he was
stepping out with a woman.

  
“You’ve eaten here before?” Hannah tossed out the innocuous question.

  
“A fair amount before you came.”
Jed looked into her gray eyes.

  
She twisted her hands together in
front of her. The table was tiny, and her leg touched his thigh beneath. She
tried to adjust and wiggle her chair out, but Jed’s long legs left little room
to maneuver. Red crept into her cheeks.

  
“It’s ok.” His voice was hoarse.
“Body parts don’t bother me. I’m a doctor, remember?”

   
She smiled prettily.
“Right.”

  
Nelda delivered plates overflowing
with food. It smelled wonderful, and Hannah said as much.

  
“You never told me about your
journey to Wounded Colt,” he threw out to make conversation.

  
“You didn’t ask.”

  
“I suppose I was preoccupied with
other matters.” A memory of her wrapped in the thin nightgown in his bed
flashed through his mind. He tried to chase it out, but it was proving
difficult.

  
“Ah, yes. I remember.” She was
smiling, too, and he impulsively reached across the table and put a hand over
hers.

  
She didn’t pull away. “I came up
the Missouri, and then over land. It was quite tedious.”

  
“I made the same trip when I came
out.”

 
 
 
 
As they reminisced other couples and
families wandered in and out of the room, but Jed didn’t notice. He saw only
Hannah.

  
Nelda hovered about as if she were
serving foreign dignitaries, offering extra helpings and more pie. When they
finally rose to quit the room, Jed spied newlyweds Geneva and Ned Kingman at a
table near the door.

  
“Kingman!”

  
“Doc!” Ned rose and pumped Jed’s
hand.

  
Jed nodded at Geneva. “Good to see
you with your woman.”

  
“Likewise,” Ned retorted.

  
“Hannah is my practice partner.”
Jed didn’t realize how his statement sounded until it was out of his mouth.

  
Ned took full advantage. “You’re
getting lots of practice?”

  
Geneva laughed heartily, and
Hannah blushed. “We work together,” she blubbered.

  
“Yes, yes,” Ned slapped the table,
“Geneva is my partner, too.” He cleared his throat. “Doc Rutherford dug
schrapnel out of my leg. The war was hard on me, but I’m much better now,
thanks to Doc’s healing and the love of a fine wife.”

  
“I can see that,” Hannah
said.
 
“Congratulations, again, Mr.
and Mrs. Kingman.”

  
“Yes, congratulations,” Jed
echoed. Then, as Jed turned to move away, he took Hannah’s hand and placed it on
the crook of his arm.

Chapter 15

  
   
H
annah was
walking toward the general store when Roy Easton accosted her. Nelda Rose’s
baby was coming! Hannah hurried to the hotel to find Nelda in her bed, panting
and sweating. The pains weren’t frequent yet, but John Hawkins was taking no chances.
He’d put his wife to bed at her first minor complaint, and Hannah encountered him
wiping Nelda’s brow with a wet cloth.

  
“I-it’s started.” His dark eyes
flickered up to Hannah as she entered the room.

  
Nelda stretched a hand across the
bed and took Hannah’s. “The worst is yet to come,” she grimaced and waited through
a contraction, “but I’m ready.”

  
“Ah, that’s our brave Nelda. This
baby should come faster than the others,” Hannah spoke with bright confidence,
as she’d been trained to do.

  
Nelda bit her lower lip and nodded,
but John Hawkins wasn’t as sure.
 
He
led Hannah outside the room to talk.

  
“You’ve brought other babes?” he
inquired. “Maybe Rutherford should tail ride.”

  
“I have experience.”
 
In truth she’d assisted at several
births and had handled only three alone, though all had been successful.

  
“I think we both might prefer
Rutherford,” he blurted.

  
“But Nelda asked for me. A woman’s
more comfortable with another woman –“

  
He slapped a hand to his forehead.
“God is punishing me!”

  
Hawkins’ outburst set Hannah back
on her heels. “Mr. Hawkins, I know about your losses, but this time will be
different –“

  
“He sent you to make me suffer for
my sins! I’m going to Hell.” The man was delusional.

  
“Mr. Hawkins, take a shot of
whiskey and relax. I don’t believe God sent me here to punish you and cause
suffering. I’m practiced in healing the sick, and helping in precisely such
situations as birth –“

  
“No, no, an evil Satan rules my
life. You don’t know. I’ve done terrible things.” Hawkins was sobbing.

  
Hannah had never seen a grown man lose
his senses during a wife’s labor.
 
“Mr. Hawkins, there’s nothing you’ve done
can’t be forgiven. Good Lord, have you killed a man? Mr. Hawkins, every life
has it’s share of broken dreams, of falls, of hard knocks. Believe me, I know,
but we’re going to bring a healthy baby today. You’re due for a break.”

  
John Hawkins grabbed her arm and pushed
her to his private parlor, where Hannah sat on a wooden chair, and he slumped onto
the sofa. He pulled a handkerchief from a vest pocket and blew his nose.

  
When he finally lifted his gaze
and spoke his words were tortured and painful. “As a boy I learned the hard way.
Trust me. You’ll want to fetch Rutherford. Look, Doctor Sutton, I know who you
are, and why you’re here. You’re Amy Sutton. When I was a young man I worked at
the Dullen ranch, next to your place. Do you remember it?”

  
It was Hannah’s turn to be fearful
and exposed, like a windmill facing a gale for the first time. “How?” She
choked. “I mean, when, when did you know?”

  
His eyes were red and misted, and
he looked away from her. “The first we met. I couldn’t forget your face after
it happened. You’re Amy, all growed up.”

  
“Oh, please, oh please. You
haven’t told anyone?”

  
“No, and I won’t, because there’s
something about me nobody knows, not even my wife. I –I was one of the
men who set the fire.”

  
Hannah gasped and the blood ran
from her face. She felt weak and suddenly disconnected from the conversation.

  
His voice broke and he sobbed. “I-I
was just a kid,” he pleaded. “Dullen made me do it with another cowpuncher. He
wanted to drive your family off the land so he could take it. If we’d known
there were kids in the barn –“

  
Hannah put up a hand to stop him. She’d
expected the stress of a birthing, and what she got was reliving a personal
nightmare. Her arm was wrapped around her midsection. She rocked to and fro on
the hard chair. “Oh, heavens. Oh, my.”

  
“I’m so sorry,” Hawkins continued.
“In truth, I’m sorry every damn day. You now you see. God punishes me by taking
my babies. And then you show up, and the loneliness and pain start all over
again . . . and I know my regrets aren’t enough . . . I try to be a good man.“

  
“You say you were just a boy,” Mr.
Hawkins. “You were a boy,” she repeated. “Where is Dullen?”

  
“Dead. Sarah Easton killed him.”
She heard a shudder in his heavy sigh. “Dullen fired off a range war with the
Eastons. He wanted their spread, too, so he kidnapped Sarah and little Emily
for ransom. Mrs. Easton had a gun hidden in her skirts, and when she got a
fighting chance she shot the Satan. Miss, I wouldn’t blame you if you called
for my hanging.”

  
The chair creaked as Hannah leaned
forward. She took Hawkins’ hand, and squeezed. “I forgive you. I forgive you,
John Hawkins.”

  
He retreated to a stunned reverential
silence. At last he whispered. “You absolve me? Why?”

  
“Mr. Hawkins, as I look at the
vast expanse of life I see endless possibilities for healing and, yes,
forgiveness. Every day I face the emotional toll of physical and mental pain,
for myself, and others. We all have lingering fears, and regret of errors. I
see veterans who struggle with the senselessness of taking lives during the
war. I see widows and mothers who have lost children.”

  
“My purpose is to ease pain and
suffering. What good would it do either of us to continue in a contemptuous
fashion? We cannot forget, but we can forgive, and we can do right by others to
atone for the past. I wake up every morning and ask myself what I can do to
make the world better. Mr. Hawkins, I know you do the same. Your love for Nelda
tells me you have a good heart. I make the world better today by forgiving you
and helping to end your self-torture.”

  
He stared at the floor. “You offer
the gift of forgiveness, but I have nothing to give you.”

  
“You’ve given me your honesty, your
apology, and your discretion in this matter. It would please me not to speak of
it again. I ask you to forgive yourself, so that your mind might be at peace. You’ve
helped to begin an easing for me. Now I know the truth about what happened that
long ago night.”

  
Hawkins wiped his eyes with the
back of his hand. “You were hurt.” He looked down at her skirt. “That’s been on
my conscience. Are you all right?”

  
Hannah lifted her skirt slightly
to show a small portion of her scarring. “It isn’t much,” she lied.
 

  
“It doesn’t hurt?” His face was
drawn.

  
“There is no physical pain.” She
dropped her skirt. “I am not limited in my work.”

  
He swallowed and kept his eyes on
the floor. “You must believe this: My heart isn’t stone cold. It cries with
yours.”

  
“I know. Mr. Hawkins, I understand
the hardest person to forgive is yourself, but you must, so you can be your
best as a husband and father.”

  
“Doctor Hannah, you, I -- ”

  
“Don’t let it eat at your soul,”
she whispered. Hannah stood and smoothed her hair back from her temples. She
had to save effort for the task ahead with Nelda Rose. “Now, Mr. Hawkins, my
friend, your child is about to arrive. I need your help. Will you assist?”

  
“Tell me what to do. Doctor
Hannah. I am ever grateful.”

*
   
*
  
*

  
Two hours later, John Hawkins
experienced joy he couldn’t recall. Doctor Hannah lifted a baby girl into his
eager arms as Nelda’s laughter washed over him like a cleansing spring shower.

  
“She’s beautiful,” Nelda gushed.

  
“Oh, yes,” Hannah assured as she
wiped her own eyes. “She’s strong. I’ve never heard one yell with such gusto.” Hannah
shouted over the baby’s wails.

  
John tenderly positioned the baby
in Nelda Rose’s arms as Hannah slipped from the room to give the couple
privacy. John stroked Nelda’s hair and kissed her face. “Thank you for my
daughter.”

  
Nelda’s voice broke. “John, this
time it feels different. We’re going to be a family. Doctor Hannah Sutton came
to bring us this angel.”

  
He gazed into Nelda’s resolute
eyes. “I believe she did.”

  
John Hawkins heard voices outside
in the hall, and he rose and opened the door. Doctor Rutherford was speaking
with Hannah, who was excitedly telling him about how well the birthing had
gone, how strong Nelda and the baby were, and how happy she was for this
outcome. Emotion rose in John upon overhearing Hannah’s eager words, and he
stepped out into the hallway.

  
“Congratulations, Hawkins!”
Rutherford extended a hand for a hearty shake. “I wish I’d been here, but a
cowpuncher out at Mineral Creek was thrown from his mount at the same time we
got word about Nelda. It appears Doctor Hannah had things well in hand.”

  
“Yes,” John swallowed and pumped
Rutherford’s hand. He noted Hannah’s open delight as she basked in the Doc’s
praise. It was clear she admired the man, perhaps she was sweet on him. Yes,
she was, John decided.

  
By John Hawkins’ reckoning, Doctor
Hannah had saved his life, and she deserved the most he could muster for
her.
 
So, in that moment, John
decided to work toward such an end: He’d promote Hannah in town, and he’d
encourage Rutherford to marry her. Rutherford had lured her out here, and now
it was his duty to provide this fine woman with security and some measure of
happiness. Hawkins decided he would go as far as necessary, even to shaming Doc
Rutherford into taking Hannah to the altar.

  
Rutherford shook John from his
reverie. “Have you named the baby?”

  
The new father puffed up like a
proud rooster. “Rose Hannah.”