“That’s good. Now, let me get Dr. Wright to examine you.”
The warmth that had enveloped her fled, replaced by a quickly spreading case of gooseflesh. If the doctor told Mr. O’Brien how much pain she was in, he’d find out she hadn’t been truthful. She’d seen his temper, and the possibility of it flaring up again gave her pause.
“Before you call him, there’s something you should know.”
* * *
James stood at the window in Dr. Wright’s waiting area. An inebriated miner staggered out of the Arch Saloon across the street and weaved his way up the walkway, clutching each of the posts supporting the balcony at the Cary House hotel as he passed.
Turning from the disturbing sight, James crossed the room and sat beside Mutti.
Miss Martin had suffered at the hands of her own brother, and yet she’d made excuses for him. It made no sense. Judging by the sickly yellowish-gray on her cheeks and her cautious movements, he’d obviously hit her repeatedly and hard. Well, she wouldn’t have to worry now. If the brute was to show up, he’d be sorry. James would make sure of that.
Mutti placed a hand on his bouncing leg. “Everything will be fine, Sohn.”
“I know you’re taken with her, but I’m not sure she’s up to the task of caring for you.”
“She will heal soon. You will see.” A radiant smile lit Mutti’s face. “The Lord sent this dear girl to us, I am sure. She is the answer to my prayers.”
He didn’t put much stock in prayer these days. God didn’t seem to care what happened to him. He just kept taking things away. His father. His future. Now Mutti’s days were numbered.
Before he could think of a tactful way to reroute the conversation, Miss Martin returned to the waiting area, followed by Dr. Wright. James shot to his feet. “How is she, Doctor?”
Miss Martin answered. “Nothing’s broken, so I’ll be better soon.” Her reassurance rang truer than before.
James grasped the back of the settee. “You need time to heal. Housework is out of the question. I’ll find someone else to take over for Mutti.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Dr. Wright addressed Miss Martin. “If you’ll get plenty of rest and avoid doing any heavy lifting during the next three weeks while your bruised ribs heal, you should be able to complete the household chores.”
Relief squeezed a sigh from James. He wouldn’t need to go in search of a nurse, after all. Since Miss Martin had generously offered to forgo payment in order to repay him for her train ticket, he wouldn’t have to increase his monthly expenses, either. Things were working out after all.
Mutti stood. “Then we can all go home now. I am eager for you to see the place, Becky. I am sure you will like it.” She paused and turned to James, her eyes wide. “Where will she stay? We cannot have a young woman living in the house with you there.”
Miss Martin’s audible intake of breath drew his attention. She pressed a hand to the frayed collar of her dingy black dress and smiled. But that wasn’t just any smile. It began with a wobble and grew until her lips parted and her eyes shone with unmistakable gratitude. Despite her discolored cheeks, she looked almost pretty with her face alight like that. “Your concern for my reputation means a great deal to me, but I won’t be a guest. I’ll be a hired worker. Besides, you’ll be there, so everything will be proper.”
“That will be good for the days, but I am thinking of the nights.” Mutti gently patted the young woman’s mottled cheeks. “I want you to care for me, but I do not want to make you the talk of the town’s gossips. An unmarried lady needs a chaperone.” She turned toward James.
Miss Martin faced him, too. A pink tinge added welcome color to her bruised face. He hadn’t noticed before, but the fair-skinned woman had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. She’d said she was twenty-one, but she looked all of sixteen with the blush on her cheeks and expectancy in her eyes. “What can we do?”
Clearly, she meant what she’d said about wanting to care for Mutti. While he hadn’t wanted a young woman as a nurse, he had his answer. Miss Martin was the right person for the job. He’d have to come up with a solution. “I’ll think of something.”
Dr. Wright cleared his throat. “If I might make a suggestion. Would it be possible for you to move an extra bed into your mother’s room, James?”
He relaxed his tense shoulders and nodded. The ever-practical doctor had come up with the perfect solution. The propriety issue had been dealt with, and Mutti would have help close at hand. “I could put my sister’s old bed in there. I’ll see to that right away.”
They bid the doctor farewell. James helped his mother onto the wagon’s bench seat while Miss Martin waited. Something brushed his leg, and he jumped.
That pesky dog was back. “What are you doing here?” He held up his hands to keep the bedraggled animal at bay. “Shoo.”
Miss Martin patted her side and made a kissing sound. “Here, boy.”
The dog dashed over to her, and she stroked its matted coat. “You poor thing. Someone needs to give you a bath. I’m sure underneath all that mud you’re a fine-looking fellow.”
James had his doubts. The dog was so dirty it was impossible to tell what color fur it had. “Perhaps, but we need to be going.” The dog plopped down at James’s feet and peered at him with enormous brown eyes.
“I think he likes you. It appears he’s a stray. If you don’t have a dog, maybe you could—”
“I’ve got horses, a milk cow and chickens to tend. The last thing I need is a mutt like that.” He snapped his fingers at the filthy animal and pointed down the street. “Go on now.”
The mud-encrusted cur stood with his tail wagging as enthusiastically as ever. The dog needed someplace to call home, but the orchard wasn’t it.
Miss Martin cast a wistful look at the friendly animal. “I’m sorry, boy, but I’m afraid I can’t do anything for you. You’ll have to go.” The dog trotted off.
James fought the urge to give in just to see her smile again, but what he’d said was true. Having a dog would add to his workload. He held out a hand to help Miss Martin into the wagon.
A shout rang out from down the street, followed by the pounding of horses’ hooves on the hard-packed earth. “Mr. O’Brien!”
His neighbor’s ten-year-old son rode up to the wagon, leading his father’s saddled gelding behind him.
James patted the neck of the boy’s winded mare. “What is it, Bobby?”
The breathless boy forced the words out in snatches. “You gotta come. Quick. Me ’n’ Davy need your help.”
Worry dug its claws into Becky. She looked up at Mutti on the wagon seat above her. “What do you think is wrong?”
Mutti’s gaze was riveted on her son, who was talking with the troubled boy, but she didn’t seem overly concerned. “It might not be too serious. Since Bobby’s father is out of town, the young fellow probably panicked.”
Mr. O’Brien straightened, spun around and marched to the wagon with a frown on his angular face. “There’s a problem at the Strattons’ place. I need to get there right away.”
Becky’s fear intensified. “Is someone hurt?”
“No. Bobby’s younger brother broke the valve I installed up at the ditch, and there’s water gushing everywhere. It’ll