Two Brides Too Many (21 page)

“Is she on her way here, then?” Nell’s eyes were wide.

“Tomorrow. Her son is traveling with her, and they’ll leave Santa Fe tomorrow. This is Friday.” Hattie counted the days on her fingers. “Saturday. Sunday. That means they should be here Monday.”

Kat sighed. At least one of them needed a happy ending. On Monday the child bouncing the bunny in her lap would be reunited with her family.

Hattie suddenly directed her attention out the window. “That man has the good timing of a cool breeze in July.” She stood and Kat joined her, curious to see whom the woman was referring to.

Dr. Cutshaw waved as he walked toward the house. Kat waved
back, enjoying the coolness of this particular breeze. Then she remembered the good doctor’s self-appointed shadow—Miss Darla Taggart—and, knowing that sometimes breezes warned of storms ahead, she stepped away from the window.

T
WENTY
-E
IGHT

K
at Sinclair stood beside Hattie Adams in the open doorway, leaving no doubt in Morgan’s mind that this was the right place to be.

“Dr. Cutshaw, do you have news of Judson?” It was Kat, not Hattie, who greeted him first.

“Good afternoon, Miss Sinclair, Rosita, Miss Hattie.” Morgan tipped his hat as he greeted each one. Nell Sinclair wasn’t in the welcoming committee, and he couldn’t help but wonder how she was faring after last night’s incident. “I can give you some information about Mr. Archer’s condition. Is your sister home?” He looked past the women to see if she was in the hallway. “What is that heavenly aroma?”

“I daresay you smell the shortbread cookies we baked last night, Doctor. Come right in, and I’ll fetch tea and a plate of cookies for our visit.”

Morgan hung his hat and coat on a brass hook, then pulled the latest copy of
Harper’s Bazar
out of his coat and tucked it under his arm.

Nell met them at the parlor door, her gait hesitant. “Doctor, is it
Judson? How is he?” She blushed, no doubt recalling their first meeting. “Is he all right?”

Hattie perched on the sofa while the sisters sat in the chairs across from it, and Rosita settled on the floor in front of a bookcase with the stuffed rabbit on her lap. “Yes, how is our Mr. Archer today?”

Physically or emotionally?
Morgan knew he needed to tread lightly here, teetering between decency and respect for Judson’s privacy. Morgan could tell from Nell’s slumped shoulders that she had suffered greatly, so he wanted to put her at ease. But how?

“He is, well, he’s…” Sore? Was that too personal? She’d seen the cactus spines in Judson’s backside, and the man’s yelps and bellows were no doubt what drew her into the hospital room, but Morgan thought better of sharing too much. “As can be expected, Judson is uncomfortable but recovering.”

“I hope you know how sorry I am for my intrusion last night. I didn’t know.” Nell rose from her chair, her brows creased and her lips quivering. Morgan stood as well. “Judson has to know how sorry I am. I never would have gone against his wishes had I known.”

“You didn’t know the nature of the injuries,” Morgan said. “When Judson found out you were in town, he insisted that you not be told the specifics. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I only hope Judson will be as gracious as you are. But then, you were the one with the forceps, not the one…in a compromised position.” Nell swiped at a tear at the corner of her eye. “I’m afraid I’ve ruined everything.”

“A robbery. Of all things.” Hattie jumped in before Morgan could come up with something reassuring. “What’s the matter with people that they can’t keep their hands on their own purse strings?”

Morgan shared the woman’s sentiment but also understood the power of wanting more than you have. It had nearly caused him to accept the job in Boston even though he would’ve had to marry the boss’s daughter, and that was the last thing he’d wanted to do.

“Did they take much money from him?” Kat asked.

Morgan couldn’t say. It was up to Judson to tell his bride how much he’d lost. But looking at Nell’s heartbroken face, Morgan was sure she didn’t care about a claw-foot tub or electricity or wallpaper as much as she cared for him.

“Is he still in the hospital?” Nell’s blue eyes were filled with tears. “I need to tell him how sorry I am.”

“I expect to send him home soon.” He couldn’t tell Nell he was still concerned about the possibility of infection. “I’d give him some time. I’m sure you’ll hear from him when he’s feeling better.”

“Of course.” The frown on her face deepened. “I’ll do my best.” Nell stood and tugged the sleeves of her shirtwaist straight. “In the meantime, we have a lot of food left from the café last night. Can you join us for lunch, Doctor?”

“What a splendid idea.” Hattie jumped to her feet, and Kat rose from her chair. “But Kat, dear, you needn’t join us yet.” Before Morgan could answer, the woman shuffled to the parlor door with Rosita, holding the stuffed rabbit, at her heels. “After lunch we can have the cookies I promised you.”

Nell pinned Kat with a gaze Morgan recognized as a directive. “It’ll take us a few minutes to finish the preparations. We’ll let you two know when it’s time to eat.” Nell brushed Kat’s hand on her way by and followed Hattie and Rosita out into the hallway, leaving Morgan alone with Kat.

Why hadn’t he seen it earlier? The way she’d talked about Kat during the carriage ride, extolling her sister’s virtues and her writing. The way Nell lagged behind them on the hill last night. It was easy to see now that Nell and Hattie were playing matchmaker, and he suddenly realized he rather liked it. Truth be told, he could use all the help he could get. He hadn’t exactly proven himself charming where the complex Kat Sinclair was concerned.

“Can we sit down?” He motioned toward the sofa. A meal wasn’t the only reason he’d stayed. She needed to know that, and why he’d come here in the first place.

“Perhaps I should go help prepare the table for our meal, Doctor,” she said, but her feet didn’t move.

“Morgan. Please call me Morgan, and I wish you wouldn’t go. I wanted to speak with you.”

“Very well, then. Morgan it is,” she said, and sat in a wing-back chair while he sat on the sofa across from her. He laid the latest copy of
Harper’s Bazar
beside him.

“Our evening was cut short, and I wanted you to know how much I enjoyed it.”

Pink tinged her cheeks, and she studied her fingernails. “Thank you. I did too.”

Morgan savored the image of Kat looking out at the mountains and over the town, and her poetic descriptions of God’s magnificent creation. She had expressed what Morgan himself was unable to put into words, yet she managed it so well. And it was high time he learned to express himself better.

“We didn’t get off to a good start.”

Kat nodded and giggled. “That’s a bit of an understatement, Doctor.”

He smiled. “Yes, but I think we’ve moved beyond that, am I right?”

“Yes, of course. I consider you a friend now.”

Was that it? Morgan chided himself for thinking she might consider anything more. How could she? She’d just lost her fiancé, and she was caring for an orphaned child. Even though Morgan couldn’t say it yet, he knew what it was like to be headed in one direction with someone, and then have that person and that life taken from you.

“Miss Sinclair?”

“Kat. Call me Kat.”

“Kat, did your fiancé die here in Cripple Creek?”

Her eyes widened, showing obvious surprise at his frankness.

“I apologize if I—”

“His name was Patrick Maloney. Folks here called him Paddy. We’d corresponded. He sent me train fare for my trip to Cripple Creek, and then he died in the fire last week.”

Morgan picked up the magazine and set it on his lap. Mr. Maloney had been one of the statistics he’d read in the newspaper. “I’m sorry. I know how painful it is to lose someone you love.” As he heard the word spoken, Morgan wondered if she had indeed loved the man. He wouldn’t have thought it possible to fall in love with someone through a few letters, but then he met Nell and Judson.

“Thank you, but Patrick’s death wasn’t cause for great sorrow on my part. The man turned out to be a drunken scoundrel that I never really knew, and I’m better off without him.”

The clock above the mantel struck noon, and when it started chiming, Kat rose from the wingback chair, and Morgan stood. With each
dong
, she took another step toward him. If she came much closer he’d be taken in by the lilac perfume he’d caught a whiff of on the hill last night. Kat stopped in front of the magazine he’d left on the sofa. “Is that the latest issue?”

He picked it up and began fumbling through it as he sat down. He’d thought the notice was only a page or two past the full-page ad for Pears soap. “Have you been writing since you’ve been in Cripple Creek?”

“I’ve written some in my journal, but not as much as I’d like to.” A shadow crossed her face. He’d seen that same look on Opal’s face when she’d not taken the time to play her piano.

He found the page he was looking for and bent forward. When she leaned in, he held the magazine out to her. “I found something I thought would suit you perfectly,” he said, pointing to the two-inch advertisement for a contributing writer.

As she read, light replaced the shadow in her eyes. “They’re advertising for a female writer.” The tenor of her voice rose as exhilaration rode her words, and her full-faced smile melted his heart.

Morgan returned her smile. “And not just any female, but a woman who would serve as a stringer out here in the West.”

“Morgan, this is unbelievable.”

“As soon as I saw it, I thought of you.”

She stared at him, tears pooling in her eyes. “You surprise me.”

“Is that a good thing this time?”

“Yes, this time it is.” She laughed. “Thank you.”

“My thanks will be seeing your first article printed in
Harper’s
Bazar.”
He couldn’t wait to read the part about the handsome doctor who mistook her for a midwife. Good thing the chap was wising up.

“Time to eat,” Rosita called. They both twisted toward the parlor door where the little girl rocked heel to toe.

“Thank you, Rosita. Please tell Miss Hattie we’re on our way.”

Before Morgan gave it any thought, he offered Kat his arm. She laid her hand on his sleeve, sending a quiver up and down his spine, and he knew friendship wasn’t going to be enough for him. Pausing at the edge of the hallway, he studied her brown eyes. “May I call on you Sunday afternoon?”

She hesitated and then nodded. “That’d be fine.”

When they strolled into the dining room, Morgan noticed the smug smile on Kat’s sister’s face. Hattie and Nell stood behind their chairs, looking pleased with themselves. Hattie had left two place servings available on the table, one at the end opposite her. And although the chair sat empty next to Hattie, so did the spot on the table in front of it. They’d set the fifth plate directly to Morgan’s left. Taking the cue, he pulled the chair out for Kat and then sat down at the end beside her.

“Dr. Cutshaw,” Hattie said, extending one hand to Nell and the other across the emptiness to Kat, “it is indeed good to have a man in the house for a meal. Would you do us the honor of asking the blessing?”

Morgan nodded, and following Hattie’s lead, he reached for Kat’s other hand. A knowing smile warmed her soft face. They’d been set up again, and as Kat slipped her hand into his and he bowed his head, he had no complaints.

They were halfway through a pleasant lunch when Hattie set her fork down, clanging it against her plate. “Doctor.” She dabbed at the
corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I almost forgot that the women wanted me to talk to you.”

Morgan glanced first at Kat, who shook her head, and then at Nell, who shrugged. Looking back at the landlady at the other end of the table, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Oh, me. Not the Sinclair sisters.” Hattie giggled. “The Women for the Betterment of Cripple Creek.”

She declared the title as if it would serve as sufficient clarification. He scooped up a forkful of potato salad and waited for her to continue.

Hattie spoke in a rush of words. “We have weekly meetings on Fridays and a special guest once a month during a Wednesday luncheon. Mr. Tanner was coming this month to talk about his rock collection.” Hattie lifted the bowl of potato salad from the table and motioned for the sisters to pass it to Morgan, certainly with the idea that he would replenish his rapidly disappearing serving. “His mother took sick in Kansas, and he left on the train to go see her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He spooned another helping of salad onto his plate.

“Yes, well, we all were…but then I got to thinking about you.”

“Me? Kansas is too far away for a house call, Miss Hattie,” he teased.

Her smile reached all the way up to her silver eyes and gave them a sparkle. “That’d be just plain silly sending you that far away when we need you here, Doctor.” She lifted her teacup to her lips and said, peering over the rim, “You’d be the perfect guest for our luncheon Wednesday after next.”