Kate Bridges - The Surgeon

John laughed at her unexpected sense of humor. “How about, ‘Another Eastern tourist arrives on the plains’?”

“‘Another Mountie is brought to his knees.”’

“‘A mail-order bride responds to an ad.”’

She laughed at that one. You never knew what would strike the woman funny, and what wouldn’t. When she laughed, her entire face sparkled with warm spontaneity, her gray eyes glistened with flecks of blue and there wasn’t an inch of skin that didn’t glow with pleasure. The sound of her good humor rippled through him, gently arousing his senses.

They stopped at the corner to let a horse and rider pass. She followed the laughter of a group of children as they chased a mangy mutt around the water troughs.

Looking up at the buildings, they stood between Melodie’s Bath and Barber House and Rossman’s Mercantile.

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“Work.” She lifted her long skirts to descend the boardwalk and cross the road. “We passed a jeweler’s on our way to the boardinghouse. Didn’t you notice?”

“What do you call this one?” Standing inside the jewelry store, John leaned his bulky arms against the glass case.

Sarah laid her bonnet on the counter. “It’s a singing bird box. You wind it up and a toy bird sings to you.” She carefully lifted the gilded oval cover. A small bird with iridescent hummingbird feathers popped up, making her and John smile. “It’s Swiss, I believe.”

“That’s correct, madam,” said a female clerk, sidling up to the two of them. “It’s vintage, and over sixty years old.”

Sarah gently removed her hand from the box. “It’s beautiful.” She thought it strange that the clerk, who was about the same age, had called her madam and not miss.

“Good morning, John,” said the clerk then, in a much more casual tone, causing Sarah’s lashes to rise with suspicion. Not many people called him by his first name, Sarah had noticed. She had that privilege, but she’d almost married him.

“Mornin’, Clarissa.” John straightened, tall and lean, removing his Stetson but looking ill at ease.

“What brings you here?” Clarissa rubbed the waistline of her satin dress, fumbling with the pleats. She was pretty, with long brunette hair that she’d clasped at her temples with butterfly clips, and skin so white and smooth it looked like ice cream. When she swept her disapproving gaze over Sarah’s best housedress, Sarah felt dowdy in comparison.

He introduced the women. They nodded politely, but as he and Clarissa caught up with small talk, Sarah took her bonnet and stepped away to continue studying the merchandise. He’d already told her that Clarissa was the owner’s daughter and didn’t do the hiring. Sarah was waiting for Mr. or Mrs. Ashford to step out from behind the velvet drapes of the back room.

“It’s a pounding right above my heart,” Sarah heard Clarissa say. “Above my breastbone. Sometimes it’s uncontrollable. What do you think it is? Heart palpitations?”

“Perhaps you need an examination,” John replied, his dark features glued to the annoying woman.

Clarissa lowered her eyes coyly. “It would be in my best interest, I can’t deny it.”

“I’ll set up the appointment this morning. I’ll drop by Doc Waters’s office and tell him to expect you.”

Clarissa’s look of surprise was equaled by Sarah’s. “Old Dr. Waters?”

Trying to hide her amusement at Clarissa’s disappointment, Sarah ran her hand along a carriage clock. Fancy pillars showcased an exquisitely painted porcelain dial and side panels. She turned to see John and an embarrassed Clarissa standing two feet away.

“I like the shape of that clock,” said John. “It’s massive.”

“And see—” said Sarah, getting caught up with enthusiasm for the lovely items. “A lever in the base allows you to select silence, half strike and full strike.”

“Yes,” said Clarissa, rushing to take over the conversation. Was there some sort of bidding competition between the two women of which Sarah wasn’t aware? The woman needn’t feel threatened by Sarah, she had no hold over Dr. John Calloway. “The clock face has the name of the retailer,” Clarissa added. “Tiffany & Co., from New York. They’re very prestigious.”

“Never heard of them,” said John.

Clarissa smiled at him—a touch too readily, in Sarah’s opinion.

Sarah raised her eyebrows as she occupied herself with something else. John and his taste for women were none of her concern.

But how could her life turn so drastically from one day to the next? Yesterday at this time she was on a train headed to Calgary, imagining her life with a tender doctor on the prairies, imagining the possibly of bearing their children…She glanced away in humiliation.

She still had Keenan to hope for, the only person left of her family. Did he even go by the same name, or had he changed it to protect himself?

One thing at a time, she told herself. If she took one step at a time, it wouldn’t seem so overwhelming.

Staring into the glass counter, Sarah gasped. “What an unusual watch.”

“Which one?” asked John.

“The slender gold one. The ladies’ pendant watch.”

Clarissa squeezed behind the counter, brushing against John in the process. “Ah, yes. This came in this morning. I appraised and bought it myself, from a man I’m afraid wasn’t fully aware of its value. It’s truly a classic. Eighteen karat gold, from Geneva.”

Sarah frowned. “What a shame about the crown.”

“What?” said Clarissa, peering closer.

“What’s a crown?” asked John.

“The winder knob. It’s off-kilter. Let’s hope the movement inside isn’t beyond repair.”

Clarissa colored and scooped the watch from the case. “It wasn’t like this when I appraised it.”

“Hmm,” Sarah said softly. “Perhaps a switch was made when the seller got his money. It’s a common scam.”

“How do you know all this?” John whispered.

“My father was a clockmaker and owned a store for years in Halifax. He taught me.”

He’d also taught Keenan. Not only had their father taught them clockwork, but gunsmithing. Most folks couldn’t afford to own a Colt or a Smith and Wesson; town clockmakers often doubled as gunsmiths to make everyday guns for local folks. But gunsmithing was something Sarah had buried in her past, and fervently wished Keenan had, as well.

“That’s very impressive,” said a baritone voice behind them.

A friendly and handsome balding man smiled at them as they turned around. John introduced the dashing man as Mr. Ashford. Twenty minutes later, Sarah happily left the store as their newly hired clerk. Working here, she’d have to contend with Clarissa, but seeing that she had no romantic interest in the surgeon, Sarah didn’t foresee a problem.

She tucked the escaping strands of her hair beneath her bonnet. “Are you finished drooling over Clarissa?”

“I was not drooling.”

“Yes, you were. You were drooling all over each other. And I, for one, think you’d make a lovely couple.”

It was a strange sensation, watching him flirt with another woman when only yesterday he was her intended. Try as she might, the prickly feeling wouldn’t leave.

He shook his head. The sunlight caught his firm, black temples. “I’d never go within ten feet of Clarissa Ashford. Her former lover is doing serious jail time for larceny and theft. He used to own a sawmill in the Rockies, and she ran off with him when she couldn’t squeeze enough money out of his younger partner.”

“Oh my goodness.” Were these the kinds of people she had to contend with in Calgary? “What are her folks like?”

“They’re honest and hardworking, near as we can tell. You shouldn’t have trouble working there. There is one other jewelry shop you could try, but he just hired a new man.”