Healing Hearts Page 8

  “I know ‘nervous’ when I see it,” Hawk said. “There’s more to it than that.”

  “Should I lock up my good silver, then?” Gideon paced to the window. He knew Miriam was being less than forthright, but found himself angry at hearing the others say as much.

  “I don’t suspect her of anything nefarious,” Paisley said.

  “Neither do I,” Hawk added.

  Cade switched his crossed ankles. “But she is keeping secrets, that much is clear.”

  “Maybe I should warn her, then, not to grow overly friendly with the law around here,” Gideon said.

  Paisley grinned as she rose, crossing to the open door. “We are terribly good at ferreting out secrets.”

  Not all secrets. None of them knew about Gideon’s aborted engagement, nor the weight he felt at having fallen short of his family’s expectations, nor did they have any idea that he was still haunted by the four months he’d spent working at St. Elizabeth’s, an asylum in Washington.

  Hawk pulled his black hat off its hook by the door. “So, Doc. Are you gonna cut out my liver if I ask that nurse of yours to the town sociable?”

  “You’re going to ask her right this moment?” Gideon inexplicably disliked the idea.

  “I was considerin’ it.”

  Cade unfolded himself, standing with easy, fluid movements. “If the two of you mean to have a shoot-out in the street, would you wait until I’ve a chance to clear things out first?”

  “No one’s shooting anyone.” Gideon shook his head. “Though I can’t imagine why Hawk would ask someone he thinks is being deceptive to a social.”

  Hawk remained unconcerned. “We’re all deceptive about something, Doc. I doubt her secret is something degenerate. And I imagine there’s a lot more about her I’d enjoy learning.”

  This sounded like more than merely a desire to be fair. “You’re actually courting her?”

  “Why shouldn’t I be? Rumor has it, she ain’t married.”

  Gideon heard the teasing in Hawk’s laughing tone, but he refused to be goaded. “I’ve heard that rumor myself.”

  “Then why does this have your trousers in a knot?” Hawk’s jesting timbre was beginning to give way to frustration.

  “I am merely looking out for her.” Gideon had seen firsthand the pain and vulnerability in her eyes that afternoon. She was hiding something, yes, but she was also afraid.

  “I don’t know that it’s your place to champion her,” Hawk said. “She turned you down, after all.”

  Cade set a spindle-back chair a few feet from where they stood and sat in it, facing them. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said. “I only want a better view when fists start flyin’.”

  “Miriam’s coming this way,” Paisley said.

  Miriam was coming? Had something happened? Gideon watched the door as she stepped inside. She seemed hale and hearty. He opened his mouth to offer a greeting, but her gaze settled immediately on Hawk.

  A bashful smile touched her face. “I had hoped to find you here.”

  “Had you?” Hawk sauntered to where she stood, tossing Gideon a smug look as he passed. “What can I do for you, Miriam?”

  Gideon sidled toward the desk. He didn’t want to leave, but neither did he care to stand nearby while Hawk flirted with Miriam. Public displays of affection were always uncomfortable. And it was the discomfort he objected to, not the twinge of envy or the undeniable confusion. The discomfort.

  “You didn’t come by to walk me home today,” Miriam said to Hawk.

  That had, it seemed, become quite a ritual between the two of them. It was a ninety-second walk, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t as though she had miles and miles to cover.

  “My apologies for that,” Hawk said. “I received a telegram from my counterpart in Nebraska and needed to send an answer.”

  She froze. “Nebraska?” The single word emerged broken and choked.

  Every eye in the room was suddenly on her.

  “Nebraska,” Hawk repeated. “He had an update about a band of train robbers. Nothing of immediate consequence, but worth being aware of.”

  The news would have alarmed most people, but Miriam, however, showed relief. What dire thing had she been expecting Hawk to reveal that word of train robbers was a relief?

  “I heard you cut your arm,” she said. “You didn’t come by to have it looked at.”

  “And you were hoping to get a peek?”

  Miriam’s eyes darted to Gideon. “Unless Dr. MacNamara already has, that is.”

  “Doc and I have discussed a few things since he wandered over,” Hawk said, clearly enjoying himself, “but my arm wasn’t one of them.”

  Gideon had seen enough. He paused at Miriam’s side on his way toward the door. “If you see any signs of infection or a need for suturing, bring him by the house.”

  “I will.” She didn’t have a soft smile for him like she’d given Hawk, nor a grin of amusement like she’d offered him now and then.

  He did his best not to think about that as he made the short trek back home. They got along well enough, which was more than he would have expected the day she’d run out of the church. He could be happy about that. Probably.

  “Hold a minute, Gid.”

  Cade. Exactly the person he didn’t need. Gideon flung him a look of severely tried patience.

  Cade wasn’t cowed in the least. “I’m the closest thing to neutral you’ve got in all this, amigo. Best not turn on me.”

  “Neutral?” Gideon climbed the steps to his front porch. “You wanted a fight so badly, you pulled up a chair in order to watch it.”

  “Only trying to cut the tension a bit.”

  Gideon leaned against one of the porch posts. “Is that what you’re doing now as well?”

  Cade mirrored his stance. “What made you suspect Miss Bricks of hiding something? You didn’t seem to think it before.”

  “It was nothing, really. She said something about how anyone who knew her well wouldn’t ever want to marry her.” The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it was to suspect her of deceptiveness based on something so small. And, yet, there’d been such insistence in her words, something that went beyond mere humility.

  “I’d wager Nebraska has something to do with her mystery,” Cade tossed out.

  “You noticed it, too.” Gideon didn’t think any of them had missed it.

  Cade nodded slowly. “But what is in Nebraska that she’s so worried we’ll hear about?”

  Gideon shrugged. “Nothing the Western Women’s Bureau sent me about her mentioned Nebraska.”

  Cade adjusted his hat so it sat lower on his head. His gaze turned to the street. Gideon recognized his “thinking” pose, and knew it was best not to interrupt.

  “What if something happened there that she didn’t tell them about? Maybe she falsified things in order to get this job.”

  He’d worried about that possibility the moment he’d realized the Western Women’s Bureau had misled one or the both of them. “Her knowledge and abilities are extensive enough that I’m certain she’s had training. She couldn’t be lying about that.”

  Cade’s gaze returned to him. “But she is lyin’ about something.”

  Tension twisted inside. All he’d wanted was some help and some company, and now he had a potential disaster on his hands. He was meant to go out of town the next week to make visits, but could he leave Savage Wells to Miriam’s care not knowing what she was hiding?

  Cade straightened. “I’ll see if I can find out if she’s a wanted criminal or something.”

  “Thanks,” Gideon muttered as he stepped inside his house.

  What a mess. He’d told himself after Eleanor had called off their wedding that he would be better off not growing overly attached to a woman again.

  He’d made the decision to arrange fo
r a wife, taking a risk and letting some of his guard down. He hadn’t ruled out the possibility of love growing between them, but would have been happy with a marriage based on mutual respect and trust. For that reason, his growing suspicions bothered him. He’d wanted to trust her.

  And he’d only been proven foolish again.

  He paced the parlor. Paisley had said she didn’t suspect Miriam of anything truly sinister. Hawk hadn’t either. But that was before she’d paled at the very mention of Nebraska. What did his friends think now? What did he think?

  “She is a good nurse.” He’d seen the proof of it again and again. “She is particularly good with children. She is patient with this town that’s so determined to dislike her.” Though perhaps the town had the right of it.

  Gideon made another circuit, his thoughts spinning right along with him. He would have to keep an eye on her. And, out of necessity, would have to cancel any out-of-town visits until he knew for certain if he could leave the town in her hands.

  He made a mental note to send a telegram to Garretsville letting them know he would have to postpone his trip. He would have to go to Luthy, though. There was a patient there whom he couldn’t delay seeing.

  “And I need Miriam to go with me,” he realized, his stomach dropping. He muttered a few colorful words.

  The door squeaked open. The flood of patients never seemed to slow down. It was little wonder he was exhausted. And why he needed a nurse. A reliable nurse.

  The newest arrival, however, was the nurse.

  “Is Hawk going to live?” It was a more petulant comment than he’d intended to make.

  She ignored it. “You seemed out of sorts when you left the jailhouse. I wanted to make certain you weren’t upset with me.”

  He was put out with her, but that wasn’t quite the same thing as upset. “My mind is a little heavy. I have a patient in Luthy I’m concerned about.” He hoped she wouldn’t realize this was a change of topic and not an answer to her inquiry.

  “Where is Luthy?” she asked.

  “A few hours’ drive from here.” He lowered himself into an armchair. If he stayed on his feet, he would keep pacing.

  “If you need to check on your patient, I can keep an eye on Savage Wells.” She seemed eager enough to take on the responsibility. But he couldn’t hand it to her yet. Not until he knew the truth.

  “I fear she has an abdominal tumor,” he said. “I can’t be completely sure without an examination, but her husband won’t allow a man to touch his wife, even in the context of a medical evaluation.”

  Miriam sat on the sofa. “What do you mean to do?”

  “I am relatively hopeful that her husband would allow you to do the examination.”

  “I don’t know the first thing about tumors,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t have any idea what to look for.”

  “I don’t mean to toss you in there alone and tell you to do your best,” he said. “Before driving out there to see her, I would let you know exactly what you would be looking for, in excruciating detail if need be. And you can read up on the topic in my medical books between now and then. During the exam, I would be nearby, and you would be able to ask questions of me as well.”

  Her gaze drifted away from him. She clasped her hands on her lap, her fingers clutching each other. “What if I make a mistake? I couldn’t bear it if I hurt someone.”

  Gideon moved to sit beside her on the sofa. “Nothing about this visit would be life-and-death, Miriam. The situation is not that desperate yet. I am in need of more information so I can tell her and her husband what they ought to do next.”

  “You truly think I can do this?”

  “I haven’t a doubt in the world.” Not about this, anyway.

  “I’ll do my best.” She punctuated her statement with a firm nod.

  She was such an odd mixture of calm confidence and deep doubts. He would have ample time during their long journey to study that contradiction, though he was a little nervous about what he might discover. He hoped the answer was less dire than he feared. “I’d like to go day after tomorrow, if that will work for you.”

  “Let me check my social calendar.” She paused for the briefest of moments. “You’re in luck. I’ve no prior engagements.”

  “Perfect.”

  Despite everything, he was beginning to like Miriam. He didn’t want to have to send her away.

  Chapter 11

  Mr. Driessen agreed to Miriam’s examination of his wife, but only if Gideon remained in a different room. Miriam hadn’t expected to undertake the task without him directly beside her. Thank heavens he’d let her study his medical books over the last two days. She at least had some idea what she was looking for.

  “Do you think it’s somethin’ bad?” Mrs. Driessen asked as Miriam felt around the swelling.

  “Dr. MacNamara is far more experienced in this area than I am, but I will gather all the information I can so he can determine the state of things.”

  Mrs. Driessen nodded, though her anxiety didn’t lessen. “My Frank has been so terrible to him. He doesn’t trust doctors—thinks they’re all snake-oil salesmen.”

  Miriam concentrated as she pressed her fingers along the outer­most edge of the tumor. She’d wager it measured nearly three inches end-to-end. Very little of the tumor pressed upward. Mrs. Driessen winced repeatedly during the examination.

  “Does it hurt more when I press on it?” Miriam needed to be certain the information she gave Gideon was correct.

  “It does,” she said. “I know you’re helpin’ me, though, so I’m tryin’ not to complain.”

  “I appreciate that, but I do need to know all I can. Dr. MacNamara can’t help you if he doesn’t know everything.” Miriam began checking for signs of swelling around the tumor. “Is there anything else unusual you’ve noticed that he doesn’t know about? No matter how unconnected it might seem to you, please tell me.”

  She spoke of a diminished appetite and of needing to run to the outhouse more frequently. Miriam listened even as she continued her examination. She could find no signs of further tumors, no swelling elsewhere.

  “And—” Mrs. Driessen’s face flushed on the instant.

  Miriam recognized the embarrassment for what it was—something of a more personal nature. “Please, go on. It may be important.”

  “My monthlies’ve been odd. There’s bleeding between them, and when they come, they come heavy.”

  If Miriam didn’t miss her mark, that symptom was a significant one. She jotted down every bit of information she had gathered, afraid she would forget something crucial. Once she’d finished, she turned back to Mrs. Driessen, still lying on her bed, pale-faced. “Is there anything else you think I ought to share with the doctor?”

  She shook her head. “Do you have to tell him about my monthlies?”

  “I think I had better.”

  Mrs. Driessen’s color faded further. “But men put so much store by that sort of thing. What’ll he think of me?”

  She squeezed Mrs. Driessen’s hand. “I know without a doubt that some doctors would use that as an excuse to dismiss your suffering or justify mistreating you, but I don’t for a moment believe Dr. MacNamara would do either.” She was depending on it, in fact.

  “He is very kind,” Mrs. Driessen said. “He didn’t give up on me, even after all the grief my Frank has given him.”

  “Precisely.” Miriam stood, grabbing her paper and lead pencil from the bedside table. “I’ll pass this information on to Dr. MacNamara and let him discuss with you and your husband what it means and what you ought to do. Take a moment to collect yourself or take a quick nap or whatever appeals most. Doctor’s orders,” she added with a smile.

  Mrs. Driessen sighed. “A nap does sound heavenly. And the children are next door.”

  “Then I suggest you get to it right away.”

 
What wouldn’t Miriam give to return to a time when sleep was heavenly and not filled with nightmares of Blackburn Asylum?

  Miriam closed the door softly, then made her way across the room. The small house had only one large room with a bedroom to one side and a loft. This was not a wealthy family by any means.

  Gideon rose as Miriam approached, his expression focused and serious. She handed him the paper. His eyes scanned it without hesitation.

  Mr. Driessen crossed toward the bedroom with loud, heavy steps.

  “Your wife is resting,” Miriam said. “A medical necessity.” She spoke as firmly as she could manage.

  Without even being prodded, Gideon spoke up. “It would be best if you let her sleep for however long she needs. An examination can be quite exhausting.”

  Though he didn’t seem to understand the reason for the dictate, Mr. Driessen moved away from the bedroom door.

  Gideon returned his attention to Miriam’s notes. “The tumor is three inches across?”

  “Perhaps a little smaller than that, but very close.”

  “Larger than I thought,” he said, obviously to himself. His eyes continued to fly over the page. He must have been rereading; there was not that much written there. He dropped his voice to a low whisper. “Her monthly cycles have changed?” Gideon’s posture spoke of tension. “This is not good, Miriam.”

  She slipped her hand around his arm and pulled him aside enough for their conversation to be more private. “I realize that disruptions in a woman’s cycle are often seen as a symptom of madness.” Several of the women at Blackburn had been sent there for precisely that reason. “Her body is ailing, but she seemed in complete possession of her faculties.”

  “There are few things that, in and of themselves, are a sign of madness,” Gideon said. “Insanity is a rather drastic diagnosis to make based on one symptom alone.” He folded the paper and slipped it into his vest pocket. “I must talk with Mr. Driessen. He and his wife have a few decisions to make.”

  He stepped away, quite as if he hadn’t said something shocking. He didn’t believe in making a diagnosis of madness based on a single physical symptom. The possibility was unprecedented. Her diagnosis had been based on just one thing—an unignorable, unexplainable, incurable, frightening one, yes, but only the one. Maybe he wouldn’t have resigned her to the same fate others had. It was a theory she didn’t dare test yet, but even the idea offered the first bits of hope she’d felt in years.