Texas Twilight (5 page)

“Look who it is,” her aunt whispered into her
ear.

“I see,” Lily answered quickly, embarrassment
warming her cheeks.

“Be sure to say hello to him when he rides
by. “

Lily turned to Harriett. “He’s almost a
married man, Tante. Surely, you haven’t forgotten so soon.”

“
Oh,
pooh. I know your intentions are good, but things out here in the
West are different. He’s not married
yet
.”

Dr. McCutcheon reined up in front of where
they stood, tipping his hat. “Mornin’, ladies.”

“Good morning, Dr. McCutcheon,” Harriett
said. She walked to the edge of the boardwalk, closer to the
street, bringing Lily along with her.

“So, how is little Florence this morning?” He
said to Lily, his smile teasing. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very,” she fibbed, hardly getting the word
out. Sitting on his horse, he looked even more devastatingly
handsome than she remembered. He had bathed, shaved and it looked
as if his hair had been trimmed. His mischievous green eyes
reminded her of the foamy sea, deep and all-knowing. Her gaze
briefly touched the spot she had so recently, and somewhat
intimately, tended for him and heat rushed to her face.

“And you, Harriett?” he said, looking to her
aunt. “Do you feel rested?”

“Oh, much better, Dr. McCutcheon. I guess the
sight of Abigail Smith getting killed right before my eyes was just
too much for me. Today I’m fit as a fiddle, thank you kindly.”

“That’s good. Still, I’d like you to stop by
my office later this week so we can make sure you’re all right.
Will you do that?”

“Where would that be, Doctor?”

John sat back in his saddle and looked up the
road, which was gradually coming alive with people. A large wagon,
pulled by four horses, plodded by slowly, and he had to wait until
it passed so they’d be able to hear his answer. “I’m told it’s just
up this street a ways.” He chuckled. “Actually, I’m not sure yet
myself.”

“Well, don’t you worry, we’ll find you. We’re
on the way now to our own new shop.” She held up a large skeleton
key. Looks like we’ll be neighbors.”

“So it does.” He smiled and tipped his hat
again. “Good day.”

John rode down the street, taking it all in.
This was his new home. Rio Wells wasn’t huge, but it was much
larger than Y Knot. Just on Dry Street alone he’d seen a yellow
school house, a livery, the Cheddar Box restaurant, an undertaker,
the Station House Hotel, and a blacksmith shop, and he wasn’t yet
halfway down. The street was lined with gas lights, and there were
lines running from pole to pole that he suspected would lead to a
telegraph office.

John reined up in front of a building. “Jas
Bixby, MD.” He read the sign out loud. Gray paint curled off the
bat-and-board siding like shavings piled on a woodcrafter’s floor.
The dingy front window was opened just an inch, from which a
curtain fluttered pathetically, as if trying to draw attention. A
random gust of wind sent the sign wagging back and forth and
bringing the faint odor of rotten eggs.

Dismounting, he tied Bo at the hitching rail.
On the porch John reached up and pushed up on the sign, slipping
the hooks from the eyes holding it to the underside of the porch
overhang. The previous doctor had forgotten to take it with him
when he left. He leaned the sign on the wall and proceeded inside a
few steps, then stopped.

The waiting room was a cluttered mess. A
bookshelf running the length of one wall was overflowing with
books, as well as a variety of other things of every description.
John just stared. This was his new office? The town council had
promised it would be ready, and the upstairs fit to live in. If the
condition of this room meant anything, it would take days to get
all this disorder thrown out to make room for his medical books and
supplies. Removing his hat, he searched for a clean place where it
wouldn’t get covered in dust.

“Who’re you?”

John swung around to find a man standing in
the doorway to another room. He was old and had a piece of toast in
one hand and a newspaper in the other. A worn cardigan sweater was
haphazardly buttoned across his thickened belly, and his white hair
stuck out from his head.

“John McCutcheon. Dr. McCutcheon,” he quickly
corrected, his hat still hanging in his fingers.

The man’s shoulders relaxed. “In that case,
I’ve been expecting you. I’m Dr. Bixby.” He shuffled toward John,
switching the toast to the hand with the paper, and stuck out his
right.

Bixby eyed the wound on John’s face as they
shook hands. His spectacles teetered on the end of his nose. “Come
in and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.” He turned without waiting for
an answer and went back into the room from which he’d come. John
stood for a moment before following behind.

“Dr. Bixby,” John said as he watched the man
set an extra cup and saucer at the table and go back to the stove
for the coffeepot, “I was under the impression the office was
vacant.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. That town council
is always getting ahead of itself.” As he poured the coffee his
hand shook violently and John feared he’d spill it all over the
yellow-plaid cloth. Dr. Bixby set the pot on the table and pulled
out a chair, gently nudging a little white kitten from the cushion.
He motioned for John to take a seat.

Sitting, John tried again, “Dr. Bixby…”

The man pointed to the right side of John’s
face with his fork. “Knife wound?”

John nodded.

“Whoever sewed you up did a darn fine
job.”

He was at a loss and felt like a fool. The
council had said that Dr. Bixby was retiring after forty-five years
as Rio Wells’ doctor. They’d said he’d be gone and the place would
be cleaned out, newly painted, with all the files in order. As it
was, the place was a shambles. He clenched his jaw several times
before answering. “What exactly are your plans for moving out?”

“M
oving
out?”

Bixby
looked up at him as he soaked up egg yolk with his toast. “Never
said anything about moving out. Just handing the reins over to
someone with a few less miles under his saddle. But that’s
only after
I make sure he’s well prepared
to take care of the people here.”

John opened his mouth to speak but Bixby held
up his hand, silencing him. “I understand you’ve completed your
medical training. But that’s a far cry from knowing what to do if
Millie Banks delivers three weeks early like she has with the last
two. Or how to treat Frank if he gets the gout in his other leg,
or, or…,” he mumbled, scratching his forehead. “Or, Cradle Hupton
crushes his hand for the umpteenth time in his blacksmith’s forge.
You get my drift?”

The kitten mewed then hopped up into John’s
lap. It looked around, then stretched its neck curiously, trying to
see over the rim of the table. Jumping up, it went straight for Dr.
Bixby’s plate.

“Damn scamp.” Bixby scooped up the kitten and
went to the back door and put it out. He pulled the door tightly
closed and returned to the table. John stood and met the doctor eye
to eye.

“I was told that this place would be vacant.”
He brought his arm up and covered his nose. “What’s that
smell?”

“Mineral Spring. It’s a block down Spring
Street. Gets a bit pungent when there’s no breeze to clear it out.
You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

Jas Bixby sat back down and took up where
he’d left off cleaning his plate. Seemed as if he hadn’t heard what
John had just said. Or maybe he did and didn’t care. Possibly, he
was just ignoring him completely. John strode to the door. “I’ll be
back.”

***

“What do you mean there isn’t anything you
can do?” John leaned palms down on the Mayor’s desk, the shiny
mahogany wood reflecting his frustrated face. “This whole situation
is asinine, and if I had any good humor at all this morning, it’s
now gone.” After leaving the doctor’s office, he’d gone over to the
Mayor’s office where Mayor Fred Billingsworth was sipping his
coffee and reading the morning paper.

“I sympathize with you, Dr. McCutcheon. As
soon as Jas gets his thinking on straight, he’ll remember that it’s
this week that he’s supposed to be moved out.”

“Has anyone talked this over with him?” John
asked firmly. “Was it his decision to retire?”

“Of course. It’s been discussed for almost
three years now.”

“Does he have a place to go?”

“I don’t know, Doctor. I suppose he
does.”

“
What?
He’s been
the town’s doctor for all these years and you don’t even know what
he’s planning on doing when he quits his practice, or if he even
has someplace to move to?”

What a hypocrite. He wanted the old man out,
too. He swiped a hand over his face in irritation. Going into
practice with another doctor, especially one as old as sin, was not
the set-up he’d been dreaming of.

“How come no one has kept on top of this? I
was told the building would be ready.”

The door opened and Lily Anthony came in,
closing the door behind her. The mayor looked up from his desk,
peering around John’s body, to see who had entered. He looked much
more interested in Lily than he had been in him.

“May I help you, young lady?”

She came forward and stood a few feet from
where John was. He noticed a slight brightening of her expression
as she glanced in his direction. “Dr. McCutcheon.”

“Miss Anthony,” he said, taking his hat off.
“We meet again.”

She handed the mayor a piece of paper she was
holding. He opened it and scanned the page. “Yes, I hope you can.
My name is Lily Anthony and I am looking for Mr. Bartlett,” she
announced before he had finished reading. “In his last post to us
he said to inquire about him here.”

“Mr. Bartlett? He no longer lives in Rio
Wells.”

Lily’s sharp intake of breath echoed in the
quiet room. “There must be some mistake. We have entered into a
business agreement with Mr. Bartlett. And traveled all the way from
Boston.”

“Who is we, Miss Anthony?”

“My Tante, Harriett Schmidt, and me.”

John moved a step closer to Lily, giving her
moral support.

“If he is no longer living here may I ask
where I can find him? Where he has moved? We have already paid to
him a year’s lease of dollars and in return he sent us the key.”
She held the key up for the mayor to see.

It seemed the stressful situation was causing
her to struggle with her normally good English. Her accent
thickened considerably and her words jumbled.

The mayor sat back in his chair as if
thinking hard. “Miss Anthony, Mr. Bartlett left town and didn’t
tell anyone where he was going. For all we know he up and got his
self killed.”

“Who took ownership of the building when Mr.
Bartlett moved?” John asked. Lily looked up at him quickly,
appreciation written in her eyes.

“Norman Shellston, the banker.” He folded the
paper in two and handed it back to Lily.

For a moment the name seemed to ring a bell
to John, but the thought was pushed away by an inward groan. Most
of the bankers his family knew were known to be overly concerned
about themselves more so than the interest of their clients.
Bloodthirsty, Flood used to call them. “Where’s the bank?”

The mayor pushed his heavy body away from his
desk and stood, possibly because he could see that the two
newcomers were getting ready to leave. “A little way up the street
on the corner of Church and Dry.”

Lily and John turned to go. “Dr. McCutcheon,”
the mayor said, “give Jas a few days to get used to you and used to
the idea of retiring. He’ll comply. Right now I’m trying to find
someone to temporarily oversee the school until we can find a new
teacher. It was truly a shame about Miss Smith.” He shook his head.
“Well, good day,” he finished.

They stepped outside. “Let’s go see the
banker,” John said as he escorted her up the plank walk.

“
No, no.
You have already been so generous with your time. I cannot ask this
thing of you, Dr. McCutcheon. You have your own business to attend
to without my problems adding to that worry.”
You also have a fiancée and I
enjoy your closeness much more than I should.

“Nonsense. You’re new and I’m new. The way I
see it we both need a friend about now.” His arms swung loosely by
his side and his crooked smile was endearing. Every now and then
he’d nonchalantly grip a post as they passed, as if looking for
something to do. “What happened this morning after I saw you two on
the boardwalk? You were on your way to the shop with the key?”

“When we got there the key wouldn’t open the
door. It looked as if someone had recently changed the lock. We
tried until my aunt was exhausted. She said she was tired and
wanted to lie down. But I know she is also upset. And worried.”

“She’s back at the hotel?”

“Yes, Dr. McCutcheon. I walked her back and
then went over to the mayor’s office right away. That is when I ran
into you.”

“
Please,
you
must
call me
John. We’ve been through too much together to keep to such
formalities. Don’t you think?” He pointed playfully to his face and
the many stitches she’d so carefully made.

Lily felt a thrill of happiness as she walked
by his side. “Only if you stop calling me Florence.” In her way of
thinking, the name was a nickname—something you would call a
special friend, and it just didn’t feel right. “Please just call me
Lily.”

John looked at her skeptically, then
chuckled. “Um, I’ll try.”

“I insist.”

“Well, okay. If you put it like that. Did I
ever tell you I thought you very brave to climb onto the top of the
moving stage, between flying bullets and rampaging outlaws? Where
did you learn to shoot like that?”