Authors: Linda Ford
Love Inspired Historical March 2014 Bundle: Winning Over the Wrangler\Wolf Creek Homecoming\A Bride for the Baron\The Guardian's Promise (25 page)
WOLF CREEK HOMECOMING
Penny Richards
For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.
âRomans
3:23â24
For LaRee and Sandyâfriends, confidantes, mentors, brainstorming partners, critique group and travelin' buds who listen, help, inspire, set me straight and pick me up, dust me off and tell me I can. Whoever would have thought we'd be here when we met at a writer's conference almost thirty years ago?
Prologue
St. Louis, 1877
“H
ey there, Rachel Stone!”
Weighted down with loneliness and bone tired, Rachel was mounting the steps of her boardinghouse when she heard the greeting. The familiar, husky voice stopped her in her tracks and caused her heart to stumble. There was no way it could be who it sounded like, she thought, turning. But it was. Her mouth fell open in surprise.
Gabe Gentry, the handsome, younger Gentry son, was standing there. The same son who, if the rumors could be believed, had asked for his inheritance prior to his father's death and left their hometown of Wolf Creek two years ago. If the gossipmongers were correct, he was busily running through the funds, chasing every good time he could find.
But Rachel believed that gossip was just bits and pieces of the truth often distorted and exaggerated as the tattletales passed the story around. She had a hard time believing he was as bad as everyone claimed, since her own experiences with him had been good ones.
He was attractive, friendly, fun loving and always pleasant, and she'd liked being around him. Of course, that might be because she had always had a bit of a “thing” for him, even though she was the elder by two years. Guilty or not, his reputation made him the kind of male who inhabited a young woman's daydreams, and the kind parents prayed would give their daughters a wide berth.
While she was woolgathering, he stopped less than two feet from her and reached out to tap her chin with a gentle finger. Her mouth snapped shut.
“Cat got your tongue?” he asked, favoring her with a mischievous half smile.
Rachel stared into his dark blue eyes, willing steadiness to her trembling voice. “Gabe?” she said at last. “What are you doing here, and how did you find me?” she asked, still trying to come to terms with the fact that the man who had been the subject of too many of her youthful fantasies was standing on her doorstep.
He laughed, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his stylish trousers. “It really is a small world. Would you believe I ran into Buck Hargrove coming out of a restaurant last night? He's here on some sort of railroad business, and while we were catching up on what's been going on back home, he mentioned you were here studying to be a doctor. Since I don't see too many folks from home traveling around the way I do, I thought I'd look you up.” He smiled, a rueful twist of his lips. “Never thought I'd admit it, but I'm a little homesick for Wolf Creek.”
“You could go back for a visit sometime, you know.”
Was it her imagination, or did a shadow cross his attractive face? “Yeah,” he said with a bright smile. “Maybe I'll do that.”
He seemed uncomfortable for a moment then rallied. “So are you really going to be a doctor?”
“That's the plan.”
“That's unbelievable.”
“Why is it unbelievable? I thought everyone knew I wanted to follow in my father's footsteps.”
“Yeah, but saying something like that and actually doing it... Maybe it's so incredible because everyone thinks of medicine as a man's line of work.”
She loved talking about her chosen field but felt strange trying to justify her decision standing in front of her rented rooms. “Would you like to come inside? Mrs. Abernathy usually has lemonade made, and I don't think she'll object if we sit in the parlor awhile.”
He looked indecisive for just a second, but then smiled and said, “I'd like that very much.”
Inside, Rachel fetched the beverage and some cookies, and they sat in the shabby parlor. Gabe looked out of place in his fine, tailor-made clothing, sitting among her landlady's simple, worn furnishings.
Settled in a threadbare armchair, a glass of lemonade in hand, she asked, “Where were we?”
“You were about to tell me the woes of women entering medicine.”
“Oh, yes. The annoying part is the arrogance of the male students and even some of the professors. They make no secret that they think it's utter folly for a woman to even think of entering their elite ranks.”
Her face took on a pompous expression. “Women are not mentally equipped to grasp the intricacies of the circulatory, lymphatic and muscular systems and they are
far
too delicate to deal with the sight of blood and innards,” she intoned.
Gabe threw back his head and roared with laughter. “They actually said that?” he asked when he'd regained his composure.
“Among other things.”
“And how are you doing with the blood and guts?”
“Actually very well. I have yet to faint at anything we've dealt with in the lab, which not all of them can say.”
“They don't know you grew up around that sort of thing. I remember that you rescued every injured critter you came across.”
He remembered that? So did she. One time in particular came to mind. She'd been around fourteen and Gabe had helped carry home a dog that Luther Thomerson had beaten with his buggy whip.
“So tell me your plans,” he urged, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. All of his attention was focused on her. “Will you set up practice here in St. Louis?”
“Oh, no! I'd never be happy in a place so big and impersonal. I intend to help my father.”
“And waste your skills on folks who probably can't pay for them?” he scoffed. “You could make a lot of money in a big city.”
“There's more to life than money,” she told him, her expression earnest. “Those people need medical attention, too. My father gets a great deal of satisfaction helping those who need it.”
“You can't live on satisfaction.”
Her passionate gaze sought his. “Perhaps not, but if we put God first, He'll see to it we have what we need. I know it's a cliché, but money really can't buy happiness.” She placed a palm against her chest. “That comes from inside us. From knowing who we are, and what we stand for.”
“You really believe that, don't you?” he said, his eyes filled with wonder.
“I know it's true.”
He laughed again. “Well, money may not buy happiness,” he quipped, clearly uncomfortable, “but it certainly does a fine job of mimicking it.” He pulled the gold watch from his pocket. “I should be going. I don't want to wear out my welcome.”
“Of course.” She stood, clasping her hands together, both sorry and relieved that he was going. As wonderful as it was to see him, he made her very uncomfortable. Rising, he set his glass on a nearby table. She followed him to the door and opened it, realizing that when he left he wouldn't be back.
They stepped out onto the stoop, and Rachel extended her hand. His fingers curled warmly, excitingly around hers. Urging a smile, she said, “Thank you for stopping by. Like you, I miss seeing people from home.”
“I've enjoyed it, too.” He turned to go, but at the top of the steps, he came back, his eyes filled with indecision. “Would you like to have dinner tomorrow evening?”
For a heartbeat, Rachel wasn't certain she'd heard correctly. She knew she should say no, but for the life of her could not bring to mind a good reason why. It was doubtless that she would see him after tomorrow, and she would at least have one brilliant memory to see her through the lonely months ahead. “I'd love to.”
He looked pleased, relieved. “About seven?”
“Fine.”
Before she realized what he meant to do, he brushed a kiss to her cheek and then ran lightly down the steps. Stunned by the unexpected gesture, she reached up and touched the place with her fingertips, wondering what it would be like to feel his lips touch hers.
Chapter One
Wolf Creek, Arkansas, 1886
R
achel stepped inside the medical office that was situated in the rear of the house she'd shared with her father and son since receiving her medical degree.
The rush of warm air from the fireplace was welcome after a cold drive in from the country. In a capricious mood, Mother Nature had dumped more than a foot of snow the night before, something rare in the southwestern part of the state.
She'd just come from the Gentry farm, where she had given Abby Gentry and her newborn son, Eli, a thorough examination. Baby Eli had been so eager to enter the world, there had been no time for his father to fetch help, forcing Caleb to help birth his son. Thankfully, mother and baby had come through the delivery with flying colors. Father was fine, too, but still a little shaky.
Breathing a weary sigh of satisfaction, Rachel set her medical bag on a nearby table and placed the quilt she'd used for added warmth on the seat of a straight-backed chair. She unwound the scarf from around her head and neck and shrugged out of her coat. Tossing them both over the back of the chair, she headed for the kitchen, where her son, Danny, and her father sat at the table near a rip-roaring fire, playing Chinese checkers.
“How are Abby and the baby?” Edward asked, with a smile of welcome.
“Just dandy,” Rachel assured him as she leaned down to give her son a welcoming hug. She was about to launch into the story of Caleb delivering the baby when a loud pounding came from the direction of her office. She gave a little groan. “I should have known better than to think I could spend the rest of the day baking cookies for Santa.”
“It's part of the job,” Edward called as she retraced her steps to the office.
Danny, who followed her out of curiosity, pushed aside the lace curtains and peered out the window. “It's Mr. Teasdale!” he cried, recognizing the peddler's wagon. He brushed past Rachel to the door.
No doubt Simon was making a final tour of customers before Christmas to make sure they had everything they needed for the holiday. She wondered why he had come to the office entrance instead of the front and stood back while Danny flung open the door. Simon, whose fist was raised for another round of pounding, jumped.
“Simon,” she said, seeing the panic in his eyes, “what is it?”
“Oh, Doc,” he squeaked, his high-pitched voice quavering with emotion, “I was coming in from Antoine when I come upon this fella by the side of the road. His wallet was a few feet away, and it was empty. Looked like he'd been beat within an inch of his life. I was afraid to move him, but I wasn't sure how long he'd been there, and I was more scared he'd freeze to death if I came to town for help, so I loaded him up.” The words tripped over themselves in their hurry to get out.
With no knowledge of how badly the victim was hurt, Rachel could only hope that Simon hadn't done any additional damage by moving him.
“You did right, Simon,” she said, putting on her coat and following him to the back of the cart.
“Run get Roland,” she told Danny, who lost no time hurrying toward a small house down the way.
“I like to have never got him in the wagon,” Simon was saying. “And it took me more than two hours to get here. My Addie Sue is plumb wore down slogging through all that snow.” He unlatched the rear door and threw it open.
The man lay in the makeshift bed where Simon slept when it was impossible to make the next town at day's end. The shadowy interior made it difficult to tell anything about the stranger except that he was big and tall.
“I'll get the stretcher while we're waiting for Danny,” she said.
In a matter of moments, Danny was back with Roland, the brawny teen who helped Rachel whenever and however she needed. “Let's see if we can get him inside, so I can take a look at him.”
Working together, they carefully transferred the injured man onto the gurney and into the morning sunlight, where Rachel gave the stranger a quick once-over. Young. Strong. Bloody knuckles. He'd fought back. Good.
Her gaze moved to his face, and it suddenly became impossible to draw in a decent lungful of air. Every molecule of oxygen seemed to have been sucked into a vast void somewhere. Her head began to spin, and her heart began to race.
Despite the multiple bruises and the swelling and the blood still seeping from the jagged cut angling from his forehead through his left eyebrow and across his temple to just below his ear, and despite the fact that she had not seen him in more than nine years, she had no problem recognizing him.
It was none other than Gabe Gentry. Simon squeaked out his name in a shocked voice.
Gabe. As handsome as ever. She had traced those heavy brows and the bow of his top lip with her fingertips. She had felt the rasp of his whiskers against her cheek. Had...
Stop it!
Common sense returned, and a rush of fury and self-loathing banished the beguiling memories that jeopardized her hard-won detachment. Rachel's jaw tightened and she felt the bite of her fingernails into her palms. She would have liked nothing more than to load Gabriel Gentry back into Simon's wagon and order him to take the blackguard elsewhere, but she had taken an oath to heal, and as wretched as this man was, she was bound by her promise as a physician to do her best by him.
More to the point, and her consternation, it was her God-given duty as a Christian to do so.
Once she and Roland had transferred Gabe to the examination table, Simon said his goodbyes and went to see that his horse got a generous ration of oats while he went to Ellie's café to see about getting some hot food in his belly. Roland stayed to help move Gabe to a proper bed after Rachel finished tending him.
She was alone with her patient when her father rolled his wheelchair into the room. The fact that he was using it, instead of the two canes he used to get around since the stroke, told her he'd done too much during the day.
“Good grief!” Edward murmured, rolling closer. “Unless I'm mistaken, that's Gabe Gentry.”
“It is,” she said, pleased that her anger was manifested by nothing but the brusque reply.
“Do you need any help?” Edward asked.
“I will in a moment,” she told him.
Wielding the scissors with a rough carelessness, she cut away Gabe's expensive coat and shirt. Deep purple bruises covered his chest. Her fingers began a gentle probing.
“Ouch!” Edward said, leaning in for a better look. “That's going to be painful when he wakes up. Any broken ribs?”
“Two, at least,” she said, finishing her careful examination of his torso. “And his left arm, obviously.” Both of Gabe's eyes were black. His perfect, straight nose was broken. When the dirt and blood were washed away, she straightened his nose and taped it into place.
“Who would do something like this to another human?”
“From what I've heard about his escapades since he left here, I imagine he's made his share of enemies,” Rachel observed, as she began to cut away his trousers to check his lower body for injuries. They were minimal, just several nasty bruises.
“Boots?” Edward asked.
“I'd say so,” she concurred, thoughtfully. “That's probably how the ribs were broken. He'll spend a miserable few weeks,” she stated and felt a sudden rush of shame for the jolt of satisfaction that accompanied the thought. Her father's puzzled expression told her that he, too, was wondering at the root of her animosity. Well, let him wonder. She had no intention of enlightening him. Not now. Not ever.
“Was he robbed?” Edward asked.
“Apparently. Simon said his empty wallet was lying a few feet from him.”
“Wasn't there another robbery near Antoine a couple of months ago?”
“Yes,” she said, pulling a sheet over his lower body. “Can you reach the bandages?”
“Sure.”
“I'll lift him upright if you can stand long enough to wrap him up.”
“I can,” Edward said, and they proceeded to bind the broken ribs.
“Do you think it was the same bunch, since Sheriff Garrett never caught the culprits?” he asked, as he tied off the ends of the bandage.
“Probably.”
“Do you need any help with the arm?”
“I can get it, thanks.” She splinted the arm and then poured a basin of water and began to wash the congealed blood from the gash on his face. It would leave an ugly scar.
“He's going to need stitches,” she noted, staring dispassionately at the jagged wound, possibly made with a knife.
And how will your lady friends like that? I wonder.
Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip, and shame again swept through her at her uncharacteristic spitefulness. She felt angry and sick to her stomach and oddly depleted.
“Too bad,” Edward said. “He's always been such a good-looking guy.”
Gabe was starting to move around by the time she finished stitching him up, so she gave him a draft of laudanum to help him sleep. Once she finished treating him, she and Roland settled Gabe in the downstairs bedroom she reserved for the occasional overnight patient.
“Do you know him?” Roland asked.
“It's Gabe Gentry,” she said, pulling the quilts up to his chin.
“I sort of remember him from when I was a little kid. Didn't he take off to see the world several years ago?”
“Yes.”
“I heard he made a name for himself with the ladies,” Roland said with a sly smile.
“So they say.”
Not really wanting to talk about Gabe's past, whatever it might or might not include, she thanked Roland, paid him for his time and wished him a merry Christmas.
She was cleaning up the examination room when her father rolled to the doorway, where he sat watching her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. “Did I miss anything?”
“You did a splendid job, Rachel. You should know by now that you're a fine doctor, and I'm very proud of you.”
Proud of her. She turned away so he wouldn't see the tears that sprang into her eyes. How could he be proud of her after the humiliation and disgrace she'd brought to him and to the family name?
“Thank you,” she murmured, knowing she had to reply. With her emotions and her features under control, she said, “He should sleep for a while. If you don't mind keeping an eye on him for an hour or so, I think I'll try to do the same.”
Edward nodded. “If he needs you, I'll call.”
“He won't,” she retorted. “People like him don't need anyone.”
* * *
Lying in her tousled bed, her forearm covering her eyes in a futile attempt to block the memories sweeping over her, Rachel gave a soft groan of anguish. She hadn't expected to see Gabe in Simon's wagon.
Indeed, since he hadn't been back to Wolf Creek since leaving, she'd begun to think she'd never again set eyes on him. Being confronted with his very real presence had rekindled the feelings she'd experienced when he'd walked away from her without a second thought.
Shame suffused her. Because she'd been fool enough to discount the stories she'd heard about him, because he'd been sweet and made her laugh, and
listened
to her, she had made the biggest mistake of her life.
She was a self-sufficient woman who had gone alone to a big city and challenged tradition by daring to go into in a field dominated by men. She came from a loving home and had a solid Christian background. She should have known better than to let him into her heart, but she had been so lonely and homesick, and he brought back memories of easier, happier times. He made her feel smart and special and important.
She'd fallen in love with him. Believing that he loved her in return, she had indulged in her forbidden longings and given him everything his kisses demanded.
Three weeks later, he'd left her with nothing but a note for goodbye, a bleeding, aching heart and three weeks of memories that seemed sordid in light of his defection. She had faced the truth: Gabe Gentry was everything the gossips said he was and more. A liar, a cheat and a womanizer. Oh, certainly he was fun, friendly and he
listened.
And he used each and every one of those traits she'd been so enamored of against her. Sheltered and innocent, she hadn't stood a chance. He'd worked at breaching her defenses until she'd given up and given in.
Like Eve, she'd been lured from the straight path. Overnight, Gabe went from being funny and charming to a handsome rogue endowed with more skill and cunning than any man she'd ever met.
She'd found out the hard way the lessons her parents had tried to instill in her. Sin was so tempting because it came wrapped in such an attractive, alluring package, all tied up with the subtle lie that it was not wrong, that it was all right...really.
Realizing how easily he'd deceived her set her to crying so hard and heavily she'd feared the tears would never stop. Eventually anger replaced her sorrow, anger that burned so hotly that it dried her tears. Anger at Gabe. Anger at herself.
She'd moved through the days, more alone and miserable than before, barely able to concentrate on her schooling. Unable to eat, she'd grown so thin and hollow-eyed that Mrs. Abernathy had urged her to see a physician.
“I regret to inform you that you're expecting a child, Miss Stone,” the doctor had said, peering at her over the tops of his spectacles. He didn't bother hiding his disapproval.
Rachel felt her heart plummet. Her already queasy stomach churned. Having a baby? Impossible! Having a baby was supposed to be a joyous occasion, not something that just...happened. And not to unmarried women. Babies were supposed to be the result of...of love.
She must have spoken, because the doctor stood.
“All I can tell you, Miss Stone, is that you are not the first young lady foolish enough to believe a man's lies. I can just hope that you are not so imprudent as to make the mistake a second time.”
