With Autumn's Return (Westward Winds Book #3): A Novel (14 page)

“I’ll find a way. There has to be one.”

Phoebe scoffed. “You’re fooling yourself if you think anyone will hire you. The only thing you’re fit for is working here, and the bun you’ve got in the oven is interfering with that.”

Though the blood drained from Sheila’s face and she looked at Elizabeth for support, she shook her head. “I won’t be like Annie. I won’t cry every night, wondering whether my baby was a girl or a boy. I didn’t plan this, but I can’t kill my baby. I’ll find a way.”

Elizabeth wished there were something she could do, but she knew the fallacy of believing she could solve every problem. This was between Phoebe and Sheila. She could only pray that they’d find a solution.

“I knew you were stubborn the first day I set eyes on you,” Phoebe said, her lip curling in disgust. “You haven’t changed a mite. If anything, you’re worse.” She tapped her crutch on the floor, then looked back at Sheila. “All right. Have your baby. You’ll entertain the men as long as you can, and then you can work in the kitchen and mend clothing. But as soon as that baby’s born, you’re going back to work.”

Sheila’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Phoebe. You won’t regret this.”

“I already do.”

“So, tell me, Rose. What is your most favorite thing?”

Gwen tried not to stare. Elizabeth was so engrossed in reading a letter from one of her sisters that it appeared she hadn’t noticed Harrison’s unusual behavior. It had started at supper. He looked the same as ever, but he wasn’t acting the same. While they’d eaten, he’d been uncharacteristically quiet, yet his expression had been thoughtful. Gwen had caught him staring at her, his eyes filled with something that looked a bit like longing, almost as if she were a fancy pastry that he wanted to sample but couldn’t. That thought had
brought a flush to her cheeks, causing her to look down at her plate, pretending to be entranced by the sight of roast beef and newly harvested carrots. Other times, she’d seen him studying Rose. Not once had his gaze moved to Elizabeth, though she’d been entertaining them with stories of her day. Now that the meal was over, he and Gwen were seated on the matching chairs in the parlor with Rose playing at their feet, while Elizabeth occupied the settee.

It was clear that something had changed, but Gwen couldn’t imagine what it was. All she knew was that Harrison was acting like a different person. The glances were unusual enough, but this . . . It was the first time Gwen could recall Harrison asking Rose anything. In the past, he would speak to her, telling her things, almost as if he were lecturing her. He never asked her opinion. In fact, he never asked Rose anything. Until tonight.

If Rose recognized there was something different about tonight, she gave no sign of it. Instead, her face lit with enthusiasm as she uttered the word Gwen expected. “Horses!” she cried, clapping her hands. “I like horses.”

Harrison chuckled, perhaps remembering that Gwen had had to restrain Rose to keep her from running into the street to join the Independence Day parade. The fascination with horses which Gwen had believed she’d outgrow had only increased, causing her daughter to plead for a horse of her own.

A smile softened Harrison’s face as he leaned toward Rose. “You know what,” he said in a conspiratorial tone so different from his normal blunt speech that Gwen’s eyes widened in surprise, “so do I.” Rose giggled, the wariness with which she normally regarded Harrison seemingly forgotten. He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Do you want to know a secret?”

Like any child, Rose could not resist that particular lure. She nodded and moved closer to him. “I like secrets,” she admitted.

Though Harrison lowered his voice, Gwen had no trouble hearing him. “This is my secret. When I get the store built, I’m going to buy a ranch and raise horses right here in Wyoming.”

“You are?” It was Rose who asked the question, but Gwen wanted to echo it. She’d thought that once the store was complete and Barrett and Charlotte returned to Cheyenne, Harrison would go back to his family home in Pennsylvania. That prospect had disturbed her more than she wanted to admit. Now it appeared he had other plans.

Gwen tried to quell the surge of optimism that started to flow through her veins. Just because Harrison might stay in Wyoming didn’t mean she’d see him once he bought the ranch. He might as well be in Pennsylvania. After all, he’d have a new home, many new responsibilities, and no need to take meals with her and Rose. In all likelihood, the only time she’d see him would be if they had a chance encounter in Barrett’s store.

Gwen took a deep breath, biting back her disappointment. Her ma had told her there was no point in borrowing trouble, and that’s what she was doing. What she ought to be doing was enjoying the fact that Harrison had not frightened Rose tonight.

“Yep, I sure am gonna raise horses.” Rather than his usual brusque tone, Harrison’s voice remained soft, coaxing Rose closer. If she moved another couple inches, her head would be touching his.

“More than one horse?” Rose demanded.

“Lots more. I’ll have black horses and chestnuts and grays . . .” Harrison let his voice trail off. Then, as if the
thought had just occurred to him, he asked, “Would you like to visit them?”

There was no question of Rose’s response. “Oh yes!” She clasped her hands together and looked up at Gwen. “Can I, Mama?”

The pleasure that Gwen had felt over Harrison’s new gentleness toward her daughter evaporated, replaced by annoyance that he’d even mentioned the possibility. Harrison had no children, and so he didn’t realize that Rose’s sense of time was different from his. For her, a week was a long time, a month an eternity. It would be considerably longer than a month before Harrison had a horse ranch.

“It’ll be a long time,” Gwen cautioned.

“Maybe not as long as you think,” he countered. “I’ve already started looking for the right place.” He kept his gaze fixed on Gwen, his blue eyes sparkling as he asked, “Would you and Rose like to help me choose it?”

As the words registered, Gwen gasped. “I couldn’t do that.” Just the thought was preposterous. A woman, even a widow like Gwen, didn’t accompany a man while he selected the site for his home. That was a privilege reserved for a fiancée or possibly a sister. Gwen was neither.

“Why not?” he demanded. “You know Wyoming better than I do. I’d like a woman’s opinion.” He paused for a second, never dropping his gaze from hers, and the expression in them sent color flooding to her cheeks again. “I’d like your opinion,” he said. “Yours, Gwen.”

“Please, Mama, please.” Rose added her plea.

Wishing her face weren’t so warm and hoping that Harrison didn’t realize how flustered his words had made her, Gwen ducked her head. “We’ll see.”

Later when Harrison had left and Gwen was brushing her hair, she replayed the evening. Elizabeth might not agree, but Gwen had found it extraordinary. Tonight she’d seen a new side to Harrison, and she liked it. She liked it very much. She drew the brush through her hair, smiling when it sparked with electricity. Oh, why pretend? She had liked the old Harrison too, even though she’d worried about Rose’s reaction to him. Harrison made her feel the way Mike had.

When she’d met Mike, Gwen had been a young girl, untutored in the ways of love. It had been first love for both of them, and their marriage had been happy. But Mike had died, and then there had been that awful time with the man she thought had loved her. Gwen thrust those memories aside. She had been deluded, but she was wiser now. Harrison was not at all like that man, and when she was with him, she was different from the woman who’d been so easy to fool.

When she was with Harrison, she felt like a young girl again. He was an attractive man, and though Gwen knew it wasn’t true, when he smiled at her, she felt as if she were an attractive woman. It was foolish, of course, to entertain such thoughts. Harrison regarded her as a cook, nothing more.

Still . . . tonight had been different. Tonight it had seemed that Harrison was trying to win Rose’s affection. He’d made a pretty good start too. And then there’d been that glint in his eye when he’d said he wanted Gwen’s opinion. For a moment, it had seemed as if he cared about her as a woman. If only that were true. Gwen had no illusions. She knew that no man would find a woman like her attractive.

She sighed and laid the brush on the dresser before she began to braid her hair. It would be different if she were tall and slender like Elizabeth. Gwen’s fingers moved swiftly, tam
ing her hair into a plait. There was no point in wishing for things that could not be. She would never look like Elizabeth, and yet . . . She stared at her reflection, frowning at her plump cheeks. It was true that she couldn’t change her height, but perhaps she could do something about her weight.

When she’d been at the market last week, she had heard two women talking about patent medicines. It seemed there was one for everything that ailed you, including extra pounds. The claims were amazing. Even if they were only half true, the potion would help her. Within a month, maybe sooner if the medicine worked the way it was supposed to, she would be as thin as Elizabeth.

Gwen nodded, her decision made. It was too late now, but tomorrow morning she’d buy a bottle. Maybe two.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Harding, or may I call you Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth hoped her surprise didn’t show when she entered the waiting room and saw Tabitha Chadwick standing there. Impeccably groomed as always, the auburn-haired woman gave her a cool look that made the hair on the back of Elizabeth’s neck rise. Of all the women she’d met at Miriam and Richard’s party, Tabitha was the last one she would have expected to see in her office.

“If this is a social call, Elizabeth is fine,” she told the woman who might or might not be a patient.

“It’s not a social call. I’d like to see how you’ve set up your office, and then I need to consult you.”

It was an unusual request, but Elizabeth saw no reason to refuse. “This is the infirmary,” she said, leading Tabitha into the long narrow room that held a bed on wheels and a
comfortable chair. A tall screen blocked one corner and would provide privacy for patients’ personal needs.

“Only one bed?” Tabitha raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“I hope I won’t have to use it very often. My goal is to keep people healthy so they don’t need the infirmary at all. And this,” she said as she opened the door to the small kitchen, “needs no explanation.”

An expression of feigned horror crossed Tabitha’s face. “You cook?”

“Not well,” Elizabeth admitted, “but if I do have patients in the infirmary, I want to be able to heat broth for them.”

“I suppose.”

Elizabeth crossed the hall. “As you can see, this room serves as my dispensary and office as well as an examining room.” She gestured toward the chairs in front of her desk, taking her place behind the desk and pulling out a sheet of paper. As she dipped her pen into the inkwell, she raised her eyes to meet Tabitha’s. “How can I help you?”

Tabitha’s gaze moved to the tall cabinets that lined one wall, as if she were seeking a specific medicine. “I need a bottle of ergot.”

Elizabeth’s hand paused. Her instincts hadn’t failed her. This was neither a social visit nor an ordinary office call. “Ergot is a very powerful medicine,” she said firmly. “I don’t dispense it or any medicine without assuring myself that the patient’s condition warrants it.”

Tabitha’s green eyes narrowed, and her lips curled, leaving Elizabeth no doubt that this was not the response she had expected. “Dr. Worland used to.”

Elizabeth noted Tabitha’s use of the past tense. That explained her presence here today. For some reason, the older
doctor had refused Tabitha’s demand. “I am not Dr. Worland.” The phrase was becoming a refrain. “I would be happy to help you with whatever is wrong, but first I need you to describe your symptoms.”

Her right hand fluttering in what appeared to be a dismissive gesture, Tabitha spat the words, “Female problems.”

That was a wide category. “What sort of female problems?”

“The kind that ergot helps.”

Elizabeth knew of only two uses for the drug. Though some midwives employed it during childbirth to hasten delivery, that was obviously not the reason Tabitha wanted her to prescribe it. The second and more common use was as an abortifacient. Though she had no proof, Elizabeth suspected that was why Tabitha was here. The night of Miriam and Richard’s party, Elizabeth had overheard a woman saying that Tabitha was loath to ruin her slender figure with pregnancy.