Mail Order Bride: Fall (Bride For All Seasons 3)

I think I’ve been outa the company of decent women for so long I’ve forgot they need to be pampered a little, spoiled, taken care of. Dunno that I can do that, even with all the love I hold for her.

Please let me go to sleep. Please. I am feelin’ so afeared.

Upper level bedroom: Medical Office. I am wearied beyond all measure. Too much goin’ on today for my poor ole brain and my poor ole body to handle. Been there every step of the way for both Paul and Ben, with their romantic complications, givin’ whatever support I can. And then to have that snippet of a girl question my motives—! Why, it’s enough to fill your soul with gall.

Imagine ole Ben Forrester with a baby. Somethin’ to look forward to. Need to get Cam into the office, answer any questions, see how she’s doin’, and so on. And Molly finally settlin’ down with Paul—now that’s a weddin’ I don’t intend to miss, come Hades or high water.

I must say, Ben was bein’ mighty savvy when he shut things down tonight. It was too late for anybody to see or think clearly any more, and we needed some time away from each other.

Lookin’ forward to that meetin’ at the jail tomorrow, though. It’ll be interestin’ to see what Reese—or Cole; he’s gotta figure out which one he’s gonna be—has to say. And what can be done. We all of us who survived the War didn’t come back whole and unharmed; we all carried our history and our memories wherever we went.

But these Forrester brothers prob’ly have the most convoluted past I’ve ever seen. Hard to leave your kin behind, a couplea states away, even if they are nincompoops. And vicious ones, at that. No wonder neither of these boys wanna see their folks again.

Gotta check in on my patient in the mornin’. Man, if that boy has diphtheria, it’s gonna mean a whole new range of tribulation for this town. Haveta think on what else I can do. Then there’s the O’Day baby, little Terrence—oughta take a ride out to their farm, see how he’s farin’. Letty is doin’ right well, helpin’ out, and learnin’ as we go along. Should fill her in on our patients, maybe that’d take her mind off this tight spot her young man has got himself into.

Lordy, I am bushed.

Please let me go to sleep. Please. I am feelin’ so discombobulated.

Chapter Fifteen

LAUGHTER DOES NOT DISAPPEAR because a family faces possible tragic consequences from some untenable act. The usual daily routine does not change, nor do the demands of life cease. If any member of the Forrester and Burton clan, and their extended clan, felt a smidgen of guilt for picking up the reins of how much each must necessarily accomplish, logic stepped in. What everyone was waiting for was not a death knell, but deliverance.

The meeting at the jailhouse, that quiet Saturday afternoon, began with casual conversation: just four men, getting together, in less than sociable surroundings. Important matters must be discussed. But, first, there was, as always, the laying of the groundwork.

Gabriel arrived on the dot of two. Drawn unerringly to the coffeepot brewing steadily and noisily atop the stove, he poured a cup full and immediately began to harangue his friend about the color and quality of its contents.

“Paul Winslow, I do declare, if you don’t appropriate some city funds to buy yourself some decent equipment, I will do it for you. You can’t be havin’ people show up here and serve ’em sludge. Why, every last one’ll run off with his tail between his legs and never come back.”

The sheriff, leaning back comfortably with ankles crossed upon his desk, sent over a beatific smile. Come to think of it, he was smiling an awful lot these days. “Maybe that’s my purpose. Didn’t you just finish havin’ dinner?”

“Huh. Son, I was havin’ my dinner whilst you were still gettin’ your beauty sleep. I’m a busy man, unlike others I could name.”

“Oh, yeah? Whozzat, you ole pig sticker?”

Grabbing the back of a chair, Gabriel hauled it forward, both back legs uttering a scrawk of protest along the wooden floor, and plopped down for a closer confrontation. “Been out to the O’Day farm to check on little Terrence. You remember, the one with croup?”

“Yep. How’s he doin’?”

“I’m relieved to tell you that he’s just about fully recovered.”

“Glad to hear it. And the older boy, Willie, that got stuck with the pitchfork?”

Gabe couldn’t help preening just a bit. “Thanks to my excellent skills, and those of my nurse, he’s gettin’ along fine. Now, the problem may lie with a family on the outskirts of town. Possible diphtheria.”

The dread word instantly caught Paul’s attention. “Diphtheria.” His feet swung to the floor and he straightened in his chair, intent on the news.

“Possible, I said. Checked in with them, too—the Carpenters, just moved in not long ago. Young couple, with two sprouts, he works for Abel Norton over at the livery. Anyway, it’s the husband that’s afflicted, Thaddeus. He ain’t no better, but he ain’t no worse.”

The sheriff was turning that over in his head; one could almost see the wheels clacking along a railroad track as he worked it out. “Pretty bad disease, ain’t it?”

“It can be. It can be virulent. I’ve already got the man quarantined in the house, and we’re all washin’ with carbolic acid and changin’ clothes. I’ll keep you abreast of the details.”

“Appreciate that, Gabe. Sure wouldn’t want somethin’ so serious runnin’ rampant through the town. Well, then, I take back all the evil thoughts I was havin’; you got every right to complain.” He snorted. “I’ll put in a requisition for a new coffeepot, just for you.”

“That’d be fine. And then find some high-minded woman to teach you how to use it.”

Just then, the door opened to admit both Forrester brothers, out of a slightly overcast and less than sunny day in the street to a rather dim interior lit only by shutters thrown wide apart from barred windows and a couple of lamps. Paul’s office, considered part of the jail proper, and often referred to as such, was a spacious enough and fairly comfortable room, provided by the town for three lawmen who worked odd hours, many hours.