Cassandra Austin - Heart And Home

Her sister nodded. “But we thought it was our duty to be of help to poor Jane.”

The men politely murmured their understanding and thankfulness. All of the women’s comments had been directed toward Adam, and they watched his every move. He took a sip of coffee and put the cup down quickly, hoping they hadn’t seen his grimace, then hoping they had. They had used an egg to settle the grounds, but the coffee had been allowed to boil again afterward, leaving it tasting more like eggs than the eggs on his plate.

Adam tried to eat a little of the poorly prepared food, telling himself that it was the nutrition that counted. A glance around the table told him the other men were doing the same.

“There might be something to be said for practice,” Naomi commented.

Murmurs of agreement echoed around the table.

“Tell me, Adam,” Nedra began. “I can call you Adam, can’t I?” She fluttered her heavily blackened eyelashes.

“Of course.” If he-took small enough bites of the biscuit and chewed it long enough his stomach ought to be able to digest it, he reasoned. It couldn’t be any worse than the hardtack soldiers ate.

“So tell me, Adam.” She actually giggled. “What do you think of our little town so far?”

Adam swallowed, then took a sip of the coffeeand-egg brew to be sure it went down. “Well,” he said, “the people are certainly friendly.”

“Of course they are,” Naomi said, obviously trying to draw his attention away from Nedra. “You should let me show you around.”

“Wouldn’t that be fun?” Nedra said. “We could do it anytime.”

Naomi’s eyes shot venom at her sister, but Nedra didn’t notice; she was too intent on Adam.

Adam thought again of mentioning his humble beginnings, but somehow, initiating any conversation with either of these women seemed risky. He glanced at Mr. Bickford and found him eating as if he were the only one present. Perhaps experience had taught him to keep his thoughts to himself.

“Well, I’m off to the bank,” George said, rising from the table. “Can I get anyone more coffee before I go?” Adam wasn’t surprised that there were no takers.

With the ice broken, the rest found it easy to leave as well. Adam was back in his empty little house in no time. After the initial elation of being away from the Cartland sisters came the more sobering realization that, until he had a patient, he didn’t have much to do. He wished again that Doreena had consented to come with him. He would at least have company while he waited.

He slouched in one of the chairs in his front room and gazed at his surroundings. He wanted to hire a carpenter to build the shelves. And he ought to lay in some food in case the Cartlands cooked again.

He laughed out loud. “That was the worst meal I’ve ever eaten,” he said softly. If nothing else, it had prepared him for Doreena’s inexperience. She couldn’t possibly do worse.

It wouldn’t do him any good to sit and think about Doreena all day. He would put a note on his door and run his errands. The task was done almost as quickly as the decision was made, and in a moment he was bounding down the steps.

He stopped and inhaled deeply. The air smelled fresher than what he was used to, clean and sweet with just a touch of wood smoke. He hadn’t noticed yesterday, in the confusion of the welcoming committee and the fear for his first patient.

His first patient. He had to put her and her granddaughter out of his mind. He headed down the dirt street, determined to enjoy his first full day in the West, which was proving to be less wild than the novels had described. It was just as well, he supposed. He didn’t really want to be treating gunshot wounds on steely eyed gunmen.

It was the independence and the opportunities he had come for, a chance to live free from the constraints of a society that didn’t quite include him, yet wanted to govern his every move. This pretty little town was the perfect place for him.

Clyde’s business district started only a block and a half from his house—and ended three blocks beyond that, where a bridge crossed a little creek. A hard-packed path served as a sidewalk. A few small trees had been planted to separate the path from the street a few feet away.

Adam walked the entire length of Washington Street, then crossed it and started back. He discovered several grocery stores, some in unlikely combination with other things like shoes or livestock feed. One was combined with a drugstore, and Adam stepped inside.

After arranging with Mr. McIntosh to supply him with medicine once his own supply ran low, he purchased a few canned goods and staples, mindful of the fact that he would have to carry them home.

“Is there a carpenter in town?” he asked as McIntosh tallied his purchases.

“Yep,” he said. “J. H. Huff down the street. He can build about anything you can imagine.”

Adam billed the groceries to his account at the bank and, with the gunnysack the grocer had provided filled with survival food, he crossed the street.

Adam found the carpenter’s shop by the smell of sawdust. A carpenter was hard at work smoothing the surface of a long pine board. Something about the way several more pieces of wood were laid out on the floor amid the shavings caught Adam’s attention. He set his sack on the floor and watched the man work for a minute, putting off calling attention to himself until he had solved the puzzle.

It hit him all at once. It was to be a coffin, probably for Adam’s first patient. He should feel regret or even irritation at the granddaughter for not allowing him to try to save her. Instead all he felt was deep sympathy for Jane.

Huff broke into his thoughts. “Howdy, sonny. What can I do you for?”

Adam was momentarily startled by the odd syntax. “I wondered if you could build some shelves for me?”

“Start this afternoon. You want wall or free?”

That, too, took a second to decipher. “Wall, I mean fastened to the wall.”

“Ya live…?” The man was still holding the plane as if he intended to apply it to the wood again in a second. Perhaps his cryptic speech was intended to save time.

“Little place just past the boardinghouse.”

Huff nodded, pointing a corner of the plane toward him for an instant. “New doctor.”

Adam nodded.

“Afternoon.” He returned to his work.

It was only midmorning, so Adam took that as a reminder rather than a salutation. He hoisted the gunnysack over his shoulder, leaving the rasp of the plane behind him.

On his way home he met a few townspeople who nodded or murmured greetings, but nobody seemed interested in stopping to talk. What, he wondered, was he going to do with himself the rest of the morning?

As he passed the boardinghouse he hit on an idea. He could visit Jane. He could offer his condolences and, if she wasn’t too distraught, he could ask about a seat at the table for dinner. He expected to be starving by then. Why that particular errand could lighten his steps, he wasn’t sure. Boredom, probably.

He left his sack inside his front door, edited his sign to read Next Door instead of In Town, and hurried to the boardinghouse. Inside, he straightened his collar and tie and ran his fingers through his hair. That too seemed an odd reaction, but he passed it off as wanting to look respectable considering the errand.

The house was quiet. A house of mourning, he reminded himself. He walked softly to the dining room and stopped in surprise. The table was exactly as he had left it an hour or more before. Dirty plates, half-full coffee cups, the uneaten ham, all lay drying on the table.

He had assumed the Cartlands would clean up. Obviously they had assumed otherwise. They had left it for Jane. He guessed that Jane had been up all night, out early making arrangements for a funeral and was now trying to get a little rest. This was not the sight that should greet her when she awoke.