Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) (21 page)

“This is part of his training and—”

“Pick him up. Now!” She waited in seething silence until Caleb had returned Donny to his chair. “I wish to speak to you outside,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She stormed from the room.

Caleb squeezed Donny’s shoulder. “Think about what I said.” He glanced at Magic curled up by the wheelchair and left the room, hoping to quell the confrontation with Molly he knew awaited him. Somehow he had to make her understand his methods. Each step forward was followed by two steps back, but he had no intention of giving up and he didn’t want her to give up either.

She stood on the verandah, hands on her hips, looking ready to fight him tooth and nail. Normally she wore a man’s shirt but today a yellow shirtwaist topped her divided skirt. The bright color offered a startling contrast to the dark look on her face. He could almost feel sparks flying out of her. Anger had never looked so enticing.

“How dare you treat my brother like an animal!” she fumed.

Caleb drew back in surprise. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“What else can I think? You said you would help him. You said he had improved. From what I can see, all you’ve done is make matters worse!”

“All right, I admit it. I haven’t been completely honest with you about his progress, but I
will
help him. I
am
helping him. We’re close to a breakthrough.”

“Making my brother lie helpless on the floor is no breakthrough.”

“That’s just it, Molly. Your brother
is
helpless.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” she snapped.

“What I’m trying to say is that he doesn’t have to be.”

“Your services are no longer required,” she said, her voice edged in ice. “I think it would be better if you just leave.” She turned but he grabbed her by the wrist and drew her close.

“What are you afraid of, Molly? Are you afraid that if your brother becomes more self-sufficient he won’t need you? Is that why you keep him confined?”

Color drained from her face and she pulled her arm away. “How dare you! You know nothing about me or my brother.”

“I know enough,” he said. “I know you treat him like a child and—”

Something seemed to snap inside her and she came at him with flying fists. He caught her by both arms. Her thick dark lashes flew up and they stared at each other, her flesh soft and smooth beneath his touch.

He felt a stirring inside. He wanted to bury his head in her wealth of dark hair, to follow her sweet, warm breath to its source. God help him!

Something like a flame passed between them and she shuddered as if she felt it too. The moment passed and she pulled away.

“Send me your bill,” she said, surprising him with her calm, controlled voice. Had she not felt what he felt?

“I don’t want your money.”

“Then we have no further business.” She raced into the house. Magic barely had time to scoot outside before she slammed the door shut.

Caleb stared at the space she no longer occupied. Molly was gone but he could still smell her fragrance, still remember the unexpected thrill that shot through him just before she pulled free of his grasp.

Now I’ve done it.
It wasn’t the first time he’d lost a patient for lack of tact. But none of the patients he’d lost in the past bothered him more than losing Donny. He hated to admit it, but losing Molly was what he regretted most.

Donny sat on the verandah where Molly had left him earlier that day. Gaze focused on the corral in the distance, he squinted against the bright afternoon sun. A black mustang ran from one end of the corral to the other, tail high and mane flowing. Molly stood with rope in hand, forcing the horse to keep running.

The horse’s name was Lightning because he tried to run away from every new experience.

“We have to teach it that running away is not the answer,” Molly explained when Donny had questioned her.

He secretly wished the horse would run away and take him along. He almost imagined himself seated high above the pounding hooves. He often thought of the day the doctor pushed him around the courtyard. It was almost as if he were running, as if his wheels had become legs and his flapping arms had become wings. Running
might not help Lightning, but it would be the answer to Donny’s prayers.

He reached into the side of his chair and pulled out the iron pipe he kept there. The doctor said that if he built up his arms and chest muscles, he would take him to the Flagstaff observatory. Though the doctor now stayed away, Donny meant him to keep his promise. So day after day he pumped the iron up and down. Even at night when sleep escaped him, he lay in bed and worked with the pipe, raising his arms to the ceiling.

It hurt, though—it hurt a lot. Sometimes his muscles and shoulders felt so sore he could hardly sleep.

Both hands on the pipe, he lifted it over his head, counting each up-and-down movement. Today he made it all the way to eight before his muscles began to burn.

Tucking the pipe back into the seat, he breathed out and held his breath. The doctor said he needed to build up his lung capacity, and that might help his asthma. The breathing exercises were harder to do than the physical ones and so far the longest he could hold his breath was only a few seconds.

Donny reached his arms over the chair arms and grabbed hold of the wheels. In the past, he’d not been strong enough to move the wheelchair himself, but now he managed to move it a couple of inches along the verandah’s wooden boards.

Sweating, he rested a moment and waited until he caught his breath before trying again. He pressed down on the wheels with everything he had. This time his chair caught on a loose board. He jerked his torso back and forth.

“Come on, come on.” The chair suddenly lunged forward, picking up speed as it rolled toward the steps.

He fumbled with the wheels. “Stop,” he gasped. “Stop!”

The front wheel hit the top step with a bump. The chair tilted, pitching him forward. He sailed over the steps and hit the ground hard.

Molly stifled a yawn. She’d spent the last two nights sleeping in Orbit’s stall trying to calm him. The first night away from his mother Orbit paced all night, his loud whinnies keeping the cowhands awake and upsetting the other horses.

She held up her hand. Orbit poked at the hay in her palm. “Come on, you can do it. It’s good. Yum, yum.”

This time, instead of pulling away, Orbit took the hay in his mouth.

Molly grinned. “See? I told you it was good to eat.” While the horse chewed, Molly reached for another handful of hay.

Ruckus ran into the stables, shouting, “Molly, quick, you’re needed at the house.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” she gasped, but Ruckus had vanished as quickly as he’d come. Dropping the hay, she shot out of the stall, slammed the gate shut, and ran. A group of cowboys were gathered in front of the verandah. Alarmed by the overturned wheelchair, a cold knot of fear caught in her throat.

Heart beating madly, she pushed through the circle of cowhands. “What happened, what—”

Donny lay sprawled on the ground. His eyes were open but he looked deathly white. She dropped to her knees by his side. “Donny, speak to me. Oh,
God
.”

“Looks like he fell down the steps,” Stretch said. “We found him all laid out like Sunday’s going-to-meeting suit.”

She leaned closer. “Tell me where it hurts.”

Donny turned his head toward her. “Molly, I flew. I flew through the air like a bird.”

She checked his head, neck, and back, but he didn’t seem to be injured.

“Would you like us to take him to his room, ma’am?” Stretch asked.

“Yes, please.”

Stretch knuckled Wishbone on the arm. “Give me a hand.”

Stretch lifted Donny under the arms, Wishbone grabbed his feet, and they carried Donny up the steps and into the house.

“I flew like an eagle,” Donny called.

Next to her, Brodie turned the wheelchair upright. “Where do you want me to put it?”

“On the verandah will be fine,” she said.

He stood looking at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck beneath his ponytail. “He’s gonna be all right,” he said, and after a moment’s hesitation added, “He’s tough like his sister.”

It was the first civil word he’d spoken to her since the day she’d frozen in front of the stallion.

“Thank you, Brodie.” She hurried up the steps and into the house.

Caleb sat at the table in the small but tidy kitchen eating breakfast, Aunt Bessie in the chair opposite. She wore a blue and white flannelette wrapper with a drawstring waist, but it wasn’t her apparel that grabbed his attention. It was her face. Something about it looked . . .

Paint.

Catching himself staring, he lowered his gaze to his plate. “You make the best cackleberries I’ve ever eaten.” He mopped up the yellow yolk with a piece of fresh-baked bread.

“Why, thank you, Caleb.” Aunt Bessie smoothed her wrapper.

Something in her voice caught his attention. Obviously she had something on her mind. “Everything all right?”

“Not entirely. As you know, my nephew is getting married next week.”

“It’s the talk of the town,” Caleb assured her, knowing she would be pleased.

She gave him a quick smile that faded into a frown. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Cactus Patch has a serious alcohol problem.”

Indeed, he had noticed. Hardly a morning went by that he wasn’t greeted by a steady stream of men wanting relief from hangovers. A doctor could almost build a practice solely on treating town drunks.

“I’m afraid it’s a problem in most western towns,” he said. Boredom, economic problems, and loneliness were all contributing factors.

Aunt Bessie let out a sigh. “Not only do I have to worry about the preacher staying sober but my singer and pianist as well. Somehow I have to find a way to keep the three of them sober.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about Reverend Bland.”

“Maybe so, but keeping the other two sober is like trying to rub the V off a liberty head nickel. Is there anything you can do to cure them of drinking?”

“You mean like a vaccination?” Had she not looked so serious he might have laughed, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Some people had a strange idea about what vaccinations could do. One
man had even asked him to vaccinate a wife addicted to ordering from the Montgomery Ward catalog. “I’m afraid not.”

Aunt Bessie pushed a gray strand of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. “Are you planning to bring Molly to the wedding?”

His heart thumped. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

“What a lovely girl.” She gave him a motherly smile. “A pity that she’s got her heart set on becoming Miss Walker’s heiress.” Her lips puckered as if the very thought was distasteful.

“I’m aware of Molly’s plans.”

“And did you also know that Miss Walker forbids anyone inheriting the ranch to marry?”

His fork froze in midair. “Forbids?”

“Have you ever heard anything more ridiculous in your life? It goes against nature. Why, the good Lord must be shaking in His boots at such nonsense.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Caleb placed his fork on his plate and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “What would happen if Moll . . . Miss Hatfield . . . were to marry?”