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

As she had, Jason Nordling let his voice trail off, expecting her to complete the sentence. She did. “A man.”

“Precisely.”

A wise woman would demand that he leave rather than subject herself to more disdain, and yet she did not. Though she had never been able to convince the other students that she was as qualified as they, Elizabeth couldn’t prevent herself from hoping that this man would be different. Perhaps it was simply because today was her first day of practice, but Elizabeth could not shake the feeling that if she could change Jason Nordling’s mind, it would be an important step in being accepted by the community.

“Tell me, counselor,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, “have you had any experiences with a woman doctor, or are you speaking from hearsay or perhaps blind prejudice?”

His eyes narrowed, as if he were unaccustomed to being questioned. “I told you. I’m a healthy man. I’ve had little experience with doctors.”

Elizabeth tried not to sigh. “So it is prejudice.” She tipped her head to look him in the eye. Her next words were designed to provoke a reaction, and she didn’t want to miss it. “I must admit that I’m surprised. I thought that as an attorney you believed that everyone was innocent until proven guilty, yet it seems that you’ve condemned me without any evidence or a trial. Does the principle of presumed innocence apply only to men?”

Jason Nordling’s reaction was greater than she’d expected. Elizabeth had thought she might see a twinge of shame in his eyes. Instead, he flinched as if she’d struck him but kept his voice steely as he said, “Women have a designated place in society. Just like men, they have their roles, and those roles do not include practicing medicine.”

Perhaps it was petty of her, wanting to prove him wrong, but Elizabeth didn’t stop. Jason Nordling wasn’t different. Oh, he was more handsome than her classmates, but his attitude was the same. Though Mama had warned her of the dangers of a sharp tongue, Elizabeth took a step closer, her nose twitching as she inhaled the scent of starch and soap that clung to the handsome but bigoted attorney.

“Do the roles you would consider appropriate for women include those of a wife and mother?” she asked. Had her sisters been here, they would have smiled at the deceptively soft tone Elizabeth used. They’d told her it was as distinctive as a rattlesnake’s warning and that the sting that followed was as dangerous as the snake’s bite.

“Of course.” Jason Nordling looked at her as if she were slightly addled. Perhaps she was, to believe she could convince him of the error of his opinions.

“But practicing medicine is not.”

“That is what I said.”

He’d taken the bait. Elizabeth nodded, as if she agreed with him. When his eyes widened slightly, she continued. “Then if a child should fall and scrape his knee, his mother would be wrong to cleanse the wound and bandage it.”

Jason Nordling’s eyes flashed with apparent disgust. “Of course not. That’s what mothers do.”

Elizabeth gave him her sweetest smile. “If that is true, I don’t understand your logic, counselor. Surely you understand that one aspect of practicing medicine is cleansing and bandaging wounds. You said it was all right for a mother to do that, and yet you distinctly told me that women should not practice medicine.”

Lines bracketed his mouth as he frowned. “You’re twisting my words.”

“I don’t believe so. What I believe is that your logic is twisted. Women have always been nurturers and healers. Why shouldn’t they be dignified with the title ‘doctor’? Furthermore, the traditional roles you seem to espouse have no place on the frontier. Women are homesteaders; they defend themselves and their families. Why, Esther Morris was even a justice of the peace. Why shouldn’t women be doctors?”

The man was angry. The rigid line of his neck and the scowl that marred his handsome face were testimony to that. So was the tone of his voice when he spoke. “It’s one thing to care for a child, but no man would rely on a lady doctor. I hate to disillusion you, Dr. Harding”—Jason Nordling emphasized her title—“but your practice is doomed. My advice to you is to terminate your lease on this building and head back East or wherever it is you came from.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than
to vent her fury on him, to wipe that arrogant smirk from his face.

“That, Mr. Nordling, is advice I have no intention of heeding. Furthermore, if I did want legal counsel, I assure you that you’d be the last person I’d consult.”

The barb hit its target, for his face flushed ever so slightly. “At least we agree on one thing. You’d be the last person I’d want as a client.” Placing his hat back on his head, he turned on his heel and headed toward the door. “Good day, Doctor.”

 2 

J
ason tossed his hat onto his desk, then shook his head. There was no point in destroying a perfectly good Stetson simply because he was angry. He retrieved the hat and placed it on the hat rack, frowning at himself. Once again he’d been wrong. When he’d left the courthouse, he hadn’t thought the day could worsen, but it had. The moment he’d set foot inside Dr. Harding’s office, it had gone downhill faster than a runaway stagecoach. He’d expected to spend a few minutes in casual conversation. Instead, he’d been blindsided. Someone should have warned him that his next-door neighbor was a woman. Not just a woman but a beautiful one. Not just a beautiful woman but one with a tongue as sharp as a snake’s bite. E. M. Harding, MD, was as different from the eager young man Jason had expected to meet as the Wyoming prairie was from the fertile farmlands that surrounded his childhood home in Michigan. From the moment he’d walked through her door . . .

Thoughts of doors reminded Jason of his own. Though
he doubted he’d have any clients this afternoon, he turned the sign in his front window from “closed” to “open.” No fancy “the doctor is in” signs for him. His was basic, unlike the beautiful doctor’s. Jason frowned again, remembering his first sight of her. If he hadn’t been so distressed by the aftermath of the trial, he might have noticed that the approaching footsteps were those of a woman, but he’d been so caught up in his own misery that he had paid no attention to either the softer steps or the swish of skirts. And so he’d been surprised. Shocked. It wasn’t simply that he hadn’t been expecting a woman; it was that Elizabeth Harding was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

Even though her light brown hair had been pulled back into a sensible coil, the curled fringe on her forehead softened her face and drew attention to her eyes. When he’d recovered from the initial shock of discovering that E. M. Harding was a woman and had drawn close enough to study her face, Jason had discovered that her eyes were blue, a clear blue that reminded him of Sloan’s Lake on a sunny day. At first those eyes had been warm and welcoming, but then they’d begun to flash with anger, anger that was directed at him.

He’d done nothing more than speak the truth. It wasn’t simply that men would not accept her. Everyone knew women did not have the constitution to be doctors. How would she amputate a limb? Even the formidable Mrs. Moran couldn’t have done that. Jason frowned. Today of all days, he did not want to think of his father’s housekeeper. He was still frowning when he heard the front door open. Pasting a welcoming smile onto his face, he walked into the waiting room, his smile becoming genuine when he recognized his visitor. If anyone could lift Jason’s mood, it would be Richard Eberhardt.

“I came as soon as I heard the news,” Richard said as he carefully placed his hat on the stand. The forty-year-old merchant was noted for his conservative demeanor. Unlike Jason, he’d never toss his hat in a fit of anger. A couple inches shorter than Jason’s own six feet, Richard was thinner than average with medium brown hair and brown eyes. Jason had once heard someone say that Richard was so ordinary looking that it was easy to overlook him. That, Jason knew from firsthand experience, was a mistake, for the man had been blessed with a keen mind and almost unfailing business acumen. They’d first met when Richard sought legal advice, but they’d quickly become close friends. That was why Richard’s absence from the courtroom had been so unexpected.

“I thought you were going to come for my closing remarks.”

Richard nodded. “I had planned to, but Miriam wasn’t feeling well this morning.” In a move that had surprised Cheyenne society, Richard had married the former Miriam Taggert a few months ago. Though it was clear to Jason that Richard and Miriam were deeply in love, others claimed that Miriam had sold herself short, that she should have chosen a younger, more handsome man. That was nonsense, for Jason doubted anyone would care for her more than Richard.

“Did Miriam consult Dr. Worland?” Richard’s wife hadn’t struck Jason as one of those women who were constantly complaining about their health, and so if she was ill, it was probably something serious.

Richard shook his head. “It didn’t seem that serious. It must have been something she ate, because she recovered by noon, but by then it was too late to go to the courthouse.”

“I’m glad she’s all right.” While Miriam was not the type
of woman he planned to marry, Jason felt genuine affection for his friend’s wife.

“You and me both, but Miriam’s not the reason I’m here.”

Jason nodded as he gestured toward the door to his office. There was no reason to remain standing in the long hallway that divided his office. The right side held a good-sized waiting room in the front with a slightly smaller library behind it. The left side of the building contained only one room: the office itself. Though narrower than the other chambers, Jason liked the long rectangular space.

“So you heard the news,” he said as he closed the door behind him. He wouldn’t bother asking who had told Richard. It didn’t matter. “I assume you heard how Bennett fooled me.”

Settling into one of the two client chairs, Richard raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I believe happened.” He emphasized the pronoun. “Not everyone agrees. Some think you knew he was guilty but took the case to make a name for yourself.”

Jason clenched his fists, releasing them slowly. He should have expected that reaction. After all, not everyone in Cheyenne knew him personally. Those who did not had no way of knowing that he would never have accepted Adam Bennett as a client had he thought the man had murdered his wife.

“You know better than that.” Too agitated to sit, Jason began to pace the room. “It’s true that Bennett deserved a defense. Everyone does. But if he’d told me the truth, I wouldn’t have defended him. I’d have advised him to plead guilty and accept his punishment.”

Leaning back in his chair, Richard raised an eyebrow. “Do you think he would have agreed, knowing that he’d be facing a noose?”

Jason shook his head and continued his pacing. “You’re
probably right. A man who’d kill his wife—especially the way he did—and then lie about it wouldn’t be willing to pay the price.” When he reached the far wall, Jason turned and faced Richard. “You know what bothers me even more than the fact that he lied?” It was a rhetorical question, and so Jason did not wait for a response. “Adam Bennett showed no remorse. To the contrary, he seemed proud of the fact that he’d killed Helen. If that isn’t evil, I don’t know what is.”

The lines that formed between Richard’s eyes told Jason he agreed. “That didn’t sit well with a lot of folks. They don’t think a murderer deserves to live.”

“And they blame me.”

Never one to mince words, Richard nodded. “Some do. You might want to avoid public gatherings for the next couple days. Let the hotheads cool down a bit.”

“If I want to get beat up, I can always go next door.” The instant the words were out of his mouth, Jason regretted them. He didn’t want to think about Dr. Harding, and he most definitely did not want to talk about her.

“You’ve met the doctor?”

His lips tightening at the memory of their meeting, Jason said, “It was one of the less pleasant events of the day, and considering what happened with Adam Bennett, that’s saying a great deal.”

Richard was silent for a moment, his expression pensive as he stared at Jason. “I’m surprised. I’ve never met her myself, but Miriam says the doctor is charming.”

“She wasn’t charming to me.” As memories of her sharp retorts whirled through his brain, Jason glared at Richard. “Some friend you are. You knew the doctor was a woman, but you didn’t tell me.”

“Didn’t I? It must have slipped my mind.” Richard’s feigned innocence irritated Jason almost as much as the way Dr. Harding had pronounced the word “counselor” when she’d addressed him.

“A likely story.”

A shrug was Richard’s response. He crossed his ankles, appearing to relax. “I’m going to make up for my previous lapse,” he said, his voice as smooth as Dr. Harding’s skin had looked. “Miriam and I are planning a party to welcome the new doctor to Cheyenne, and—”

Jason wouldn’t let him finish the sentence. “Why on earth are you doing that?” He was annoyed as much by the fact that his thoughts continued to stray to his acerbic neighbor as by Richard and Miriam’s plans.

“It’s simple. She’s Charlotte Landry’s sister.”

“Barrett’s wife?” Everyone in Cheyenne knew of Barrett Landry, the cattle baron whose name had been mentioned more than once as a senatorial candidate. Jason had even heard speculation that he was planning to marry Miriam Taggert at one point. That must have been idle gossip, for Richard had married Miriam and not too long afterward, Barrett had announced his engagement to a woman named Charlotte. “Barrett’s wife is the doctor’s sister?”

“One and the same. Before she married Barrett, most of Cheyenne’s women knew her as Madame Charlotte. Her last name was Harding, though she didn’t use it very often.”

That explained why Jason had made no connection between Barrett’s bride and E. M. Harding, MD.

“According to Miriam, Charlotte used to design gowns that outshone ones from Paris,” Richard continued. “That’s how they met. Miriam was one of Madame Charlotte’s
best customers. Then they became friends. A bit like you and me.”

The story was only mildly interesting, and Jason saw no reason why Richard was recounting it. “All right. I see that there’s a tenuous connection between your wife and the new doctor. I still don’t understand the necessity for a party.”

Richard chuckled. “You obviously don’t know how women’s minds work. Miriam would do anything for a friend, and so she promised Charlotte that she’d watch over her sister until Charlotte and Barrett return from the East.”

“From what I’ve seen, Dr. Harding doesn’t need anyone watching over her. That tongue of hers could cause lacerations even Doc Worland couldn’t heal.”

The way Richard pursed his lips told Jason he was trying to control his mirth. It wasn’t amusing. Nothing about Dr. Harding was funny. “I see that Elizabeth made an impression on you,” Richard said, his voice just short of a chortle.

“She did, and that impression made me regret having her as a neighbor.”

Richard uncrossed his ankles, then crossed them again, as if he were planning to remain in the chair. While Jason wouldn’t evict him—the man was, after all, a close friend—he wished that he would leave. This conversation had gone on far too long, venturing onto subjects that were best left untouched.

“Perhaps your encounter today was an inoculation,” Richard suggested. “If so, now you’re immune.”

One thing was certain: it had been as painful as an injection. “That’s an intriguing theory, but I have no intention of testing it. With a bit of luck, I won’t have to see her again.” It was a long shot, especially given the proximity of their offices, but a man could dream.

“I hate to dash your hopes,” Richard said, his voice betraying no remorse, “but that won’t be the case. Miriam and I expect you to attend our party.”

“I’d rather be tarred and feathered.”

Raising his eyebrows, Richard gave Jason a skeptical look. “I never realized you were prone to such exaggeration.”

“I was not exaggerating. A man doesn’t volunteer for pain, and having to be polite to Dr. Harding would be painful. Why would I do that? Life hands us enough trouble on its own.”

If Richard heard him, he gave no sign. “Miriam and I are looking forward to having you as our guest.”

“I’m afraid I have another commitment that evening.”

“You don’t even know when it is.”

“True, but I’m certain I have a previous engagement, whenever it is.”

“Coward!” Richard’s smile took the sting from his epithet.

“That’s not the worst thing I’ve been called, especially today.” When he’d left the courthouse, Jason had heard men declaring that he was as guilty as his client. “Murderer,” they’d hissed as he walked by.

Richard nodded, almost as if he’d read Jason’s thoughts. “That’s the reason you need to come. It’s next Friday at seven. By then the uproar over Bennett’s trial will have died down. It will be time for you to get back into the public eye.” He rose and walked to the hallway for his hat. “Maple Terrace is too small for what Miriam has in mind, so her parents have agreed that we can use their home. Between Miriam and her mother, it seems as if half of Cheyenne has been invited.” Richard settled the hat on his head. “Many of the guests could be potential clients. You need to be there.”