Regina Scott - Would-Be Wilderness Wife

Besides, she liked nursing. Medicine was clinical, precise, measured. It kept her from remembering all she had lost. And each time someone passed beyond her help, she watched their grieving loved ones and knew she could not allow herself to hurt like that again.

No, whatever way she looked at it, she had no business mooning over a wild mountain logger like Drew Wallin. He was a knight with no shining armor, no crusade worthier than her own. The sooner she forgot him, the better.

* * *

Andrew Wallin stepped out onto the stone steps of Doc Maynard’s hospital and pulled in a deep breath of the late-afternoon air. It never ceased to amaze him how Seattle changed between his visits to town. Another new building was going up across the street, and wagons slogged by in the mud, carrying supplies to camps farther out. The sun beamed down on the planed-wood buildings, the boardwalks stretching between them, anointing the treetops in the distance.

Yet he could not enjoy the sight, thinking about what lay waiting for him back at the Landing. If only he’d been able to counter Maynard’s logic. But how could he argue one life against many?

He glanced back at the hospital. Something blue flashed past the tall windows, and he couldn’t help thinking about Catherine Stanway. For a moment there, when he’d first spied her in the dispensary, he’d wondered whether his mother had been right to encourage him to find a bride among the ladies Asa Mercer had brought to the territory.

He hadn’t been interested. The last thing he needed was a wife to look after when he already had the lives of six people to consider. Besides, he doubted that a lady brought from the big cities back East would know how to handle herself on a backwoods farm without more tutoring than he had time to give.

Catherine Stanway seemed a perfect example of a lady more suited to civilization. She was obviously well educated, her skills suited to a city. Her manners had been polished, her voice cultured and calm. Of course, he much preferred that attitude to the coy smiles and giggles that had marked his interaction with the few unmarried ladies of the Territory.

Then there was the fact that she was so pretty. Her hair was like sunlight shafting through the forest, her eyes resembled a pale winter’s sky and the outline of her curves looked lovely behind the apron covering her crisp cotton gown. He knew exactly what would happen if his brothers ever laid eyes on her. Either he’d be standing up as best man in a wedding, or his brothers would hog-tie him and wrestle him to the altar. They seemed determined to see him settled with a wife. They couldn’t understand that he already had enough on his hands taking care of them, Ma and Beth. There was nothing left of him to give to a wife.

With a sigh, he started down the steps toward where his team stood waiting farther along the block. The two youths arguing at the side of the wagon gave him as much concern as what was happening at home. As he approached, his youngest brother shoved his friend back. Scout Rankin, scrawnier than Levi despite being the same age, took one look at Drew and loped away. Drew grabbed his brother’s shoulders and spun him around.

“What?” Levi snapped, fists raised protectively in front of his lean frame. “I was watching the wagon, just like you asked.”

“You’d do better to watch the horses than fight,” Drew told him with a shake of his head. He went to check that the sturdy brown farm horses were munching from their feed sacks. “What was Scout doing here?”

“Seeing some people for his father,” Levi said, lowering his fists as Drew patted their horses down. “And I thought you were more worried about Ma than the horses. Isn’t that why we came to town?”

It was, but he didn’t like admitting his fears to Levi any more than he liked having to remind his brother why they didn’t associate much with their nearest neighbor. The Wallin family had chosen homesteads at the northern end of Lake Union for the timber. Benjamin Rankin had other reasons entirely to avoid town. He’d turned his cabin into a high-stakes gambling den, and the smells issuing from the place told Drew he was likely making his own liquor, as well. Ma had tried befriending Scout, teaching him to read and write beside Levi, but the son’s sullen behavior said he was turning out no better than the father. Drew didn’t want any of Scout’s bad habits rubbing off on Levi.

He removed the feed sacks and tossed them up to his brother. “Stow these.”

“Why? Are we leaving?” his brother asked, clutching the dusty burlap close. “Where’s Doc?”

“He’s not coming,” Drew reported. “Too many patients in town right now.”

Levi frowned, dropping the sacks into the wagon. He glanced in the windows of the hospital as he tugged at the hem of his plaid cotton shirt. “I saw you jawin’ at that gal. She’s pretty enough. Maybe she could convince him to come.”

Drew leaned against the rough wood of the wagon. “In the first place, it would take more than a pretty face to get Doc to abandon his patients. In the second place, the less we have to do with Nurse Stanway, the better.”

Levi threw up his hands. “She’s a nurse? That tears it, Drew. You know how bad Ma needs help. You get back in there and tell that gal she has to come with us!”

Frustration pushed him back from the wagon. “I asked Doc, Levi. He says he needs her here right now. Some women are expected in to give birth.”

Levi shook his head, curly blond hair creating a halo he didn’t deserve. “Women give birth all the time without someone standing over them. Leastways, that’s how Ma did it.”

“Ma didn’t have a choice,” Drew pointed out. “And if you recall, that’s how we lost Mary, her giving birth without a doctor there to help. Now simmer down. I still need to check for mail and load the supplies we ordered before heading back.”

Levi narrowed his dark blue eyes, a sure sign rebellion was brewing. Drew couldn’t blame him. His brother had just turned eighteen and was feeling his oats. Drew had been the same way at that age. Then his father had died and left the responsibility for their mother and five siblings on Drew’s shoulders. He’d settled down fast. He was glad Levi didn’t have to face the same fate.

Drew slipped a two-bit coin from the pocket of his work trousers and flipped it to his brother, who caught it with one hand. “Tell you what. Take the wagon down to the mercantile and get yourself a sarsaparilla. Ask Mr. Quentin to load up the supplies we bought. I’ll meet you there.”

Levi was still boy enough that he grinned over the treat as he climbed over the backboard for the bench.

Drew continued on to the post office, but he found nothing waiting for him. He wasn’t surprised. Most of his mother’s and father’s relatives didn’t write often. They couldn’t understand why his father had left Wisconsin for the far West. They thought themselves pioneers already. But his father had wanted more than the lakes and hills.

He’d wanted a town of his own.

So instead of settling in the hamlet that had been early Seattle, he’d claimed a parcel along Lake Union’s shores for himself and his wife. As each Wallin son had come of age, he, too, had laid claim to an adjoining parcel. Drew and his next brother, Simon, had put in the five years of hard work necessary to prove up their own claims, building cabins, tapping springs and clearing land for crops they had yet to plant. John and James were a few years from doing the same. Someday, they all might even have the town his father had dreamed of building.

If Drew could see them all safely raised first.

He headed back toward the mercantile his mother favored. Several wagons were crowded in front, but none of them were his. Where had Levi gotten to now? With a rattle of tack and the rumble of hooves, the wagon pulled up beside him in the street, his brother at the reins, eyes wild. “Come on! Jump in!”