Carolyn Davidson - A Convenient Wife

Her eyes darted in his direction and then back to the darkness that had gathered as the sun settled beneath the horizon. “I’ll light a lamp,” he offered. “It’s getting too dark to see in here.”

She nodded, settling in the chair across the table. Her hands were folded neatly before her, and he looked down as he lifted the globe of the lamp to light the wick. “Would you rather I lit a candle?” he asked. “I have a good supply of them.”

She shook her head. “The lamp’s fine. You can take a look at me and see for yourself I’m not hurt bad. You don’t need to worry about my eye,” she said with a wave of her hand “I’ve seen worse on men after a Saturday night on the town.”

“Men from the ranch where you lived with your father?” he asked, sitting down again to face her.

She nodded. “I did a little mending when they got banged up. Used witch hazel and carbolic acid, and even stitched up a few cuts before you came to town.”

He smiled, admiring her nonchalant description of the chores she’d been called upon to perform. “So I put you out of business, did I?”

Her eyes were warm as she turned them in his direction. “I didn’t mind. I never much liked tending to the men. Sometimes they made me feel odd, like they were looking at me funny. You can have the whole kit and caboodle of them.”

“They looked at you funny?” He caught the offhand remark and dwelt on it. “Like men do here in town? As if they admire your pretty hair or your smile?”

“I don’t have pretty hair,” she said firmly. “It’s brown and gets all tangled up and in my way. My pa won’t allow me to cut it, said the good book is against women having short hair.”

And wasn’t that the first thing he’d found to admire about the brute? Win nodded agreeably. “I like long hair myself,” he said affably. “And whether you realize it or not, yours is lovely.”

Ellie reached up self-consciously to smooth the stray locks from her cheek, tucking them behind her ears. “We need to talk about my working here,” she told him. “I need a place to stay, first off. Is there any chance I can have a room out back? I see you’ve got a shed on the back of the house.”

“You can have a room upstairs,” he told her. “There are three bedrooms there, and I have one down here. There’s plenty of furniture that came with the house and more in the attic if the room you choose doesn’t have what you need.”

He held up a hand, gaining her silence as she would have spoken. “I know you think the folks in town will talk, but I don’t think they’ll trouble you. Once it’s known that your father took out his anger on you the way he did, I’ll be considered the man of the hour for taking you under my wing.”

“You think so?” She sounded uncomfortable with the idea, yet the first sign of animation crossed her face. “You don’t think they’ll take it wrong?”

“Lots of single men have housekeepers, back in the city where I come from,” he said firmly. But none so pretty as you. The thought flashed through his mind before he could snatch it, and he considered the idea.

If Ellie thought herself unattractive, she’d been looking in the wrong mirror. Dark hair with red highlights, gathered from the lamp overhead, tempted him to gaze in her direction, and velvet couldn’t begin to describe the soft warmth of her brown eyes. Even the one that had a swollen lid owned a hopeful cast, and he smiled as her lips quirked just a bit.

“We could try it out,” she ventured. “Maybe see if what I do is up to snuff.”

He nodded, gesturing to the clean kitchen that surrounded them. “You’ve done just fine so far. I expect a meal on the table in the mornings by seven o’clock and maybe a bite to eat around noontime, when I get back from house calls. And then when my day is over, if you could have something hot on the back of the stove, I’d surely appreciate it.”

“Do you have fixings for breakfast in the pantry?” she asked, her eyes looking toward the narrow opening on the opposite wall.

“Not much of anything. Just some eggs I got at Tess and John’s place. My milk’s sour and the bread I bought from Ethel Talbert, the lady next door, went moldy on me. I think there’s some canned goods, but I eat at the hotel a lot, when I think of it.”

“Can they cook good? At the hotel I mean? I’ve never eaten anywhere but at home.”

“Not as good as what I had tonight,” he told her. “I’ll have to watch that they don’t coax you to work there, once they find out I’ve hired the best cook in Whitehorn.”

She smiled again at his teasing manner, and he felt the warmth of her approval. “You don’t have to say nice things about me, Dr. Gray. I’ll just be grateful for a chance to rest in one place until I know what I’m going to do.”

“You’re welcome to do that here, Ellie. And while we’re alone, I’d like you to call me Win, or Winston, if you’d rather.”

She’d begun to look more hopeful and he flashed her a smile. “I think we’re going to be good friends, Ellie. If you don’t mind, we can begin by shaking hands and striking a bargain.”

Ellie offered her slender hand in his direction, and Win took hold of it, cradling it in his palm as if it were a wounded bird and he must treat it with care. “What’s our bargain?” she asked, color rising on her cheeks.

“We’ll share this house, and you’ll do what’s necessary to make my life more comfortable. In return I’ll pay you a good wage and tend to your bruises.”

She tugged her hand from his. “My bruises are fine, all but a couple on my leg. If you’ve got some carbolic salve I’ll dab some on. They’re looking a little angry around the edges.”

He stood and rounded the table. “Let me look,” he said firmly, squatting before her. His hands were warm, and strong, and when he lifted the hem of her dress to expose her ankles and calves, she allowed it. Above the tops of her shoes, several scabbed-over areas took his attention, and he stifled the urge to curse aloud.

“Let me get my bag, Ellie. You sit right here and wait for me.”

“That should help these spots heal faster,” Win said, eyeing the areas he’d cleansed and anointed with salve. “We’ll just put on a bandage for tonight. By morning you can leave them open to the air.” Each scabbed and scuffed area was covered with soft fabric, and held in place by a strip of cloth circling her leg.

He’s a doctor. The words whirled in her head, rebuking her as she felt distinct pleasure in the touch of warm hands against her skin. His head bent over his work and she was afforded a bird’s-eye view of his dark, crisp waves. Stunned by the sudden urge to place her fingers there, to know for herself the texture of those masculine curls, she clenched her hands into fists and buried them in the fabric of her skirt.

“There, that should do it,” he said, easing her skirt down to cover her legs almost to her ankles. “Now, where else are you bruised?” he asked, standing erect to replace the roll of bandage in his bag. At her silence, he sighed. “I only want to help, Ellie.”

Untangling her fingers, she unbuttoned her cuffs, rolling up the long sleeves she’d been careful to use as coverings for her arms. No matter how warm it became, she’d determined to hide the evidence she wore there from shoulder to wrist. Now, it didn’t seem nearly so important that she admit defeat at her father’s hands.

Win was silent as she revealed the purpling bruises, but his hands were tender as he bathed them with wool batting, dousing them well with witch hazel. “It’s an old remedy,” he said as he opened the bottle, “but it seems to work well. Mostly, the blood will have to dissolve back into your system. I fear there’s no rapid recovery from bruising.”