A Convenient Wife Read Free Page B

Whitehorn.
    The load she carried, her valise in one hand, her bundle containing food and every cent she owned in the world in the other, was heavy, yet not nearly so weighty as the pain of being an outcast. “He never loved me, anyway. I don’t know why I’m surprised he wouldn’t let me stay on and work for him,” she murmured to herself. “If I’d been a boy like he wanted, he might have been different.”
    And wasn’t that the truth. She wouldn’t be in this fix if she’d been a boy. She’d have been the one doing the sweet-talking and taking advantage.
    No. She shook her head. Even as a man, she wouldn’t have done what Tommy did, hurting another human being the way he had. Running off back East with his folks, not even a goodbye issued in her direction.
    Useless. Pa had called her that, plus a few other choice names, none of which she felt were fit to pass between her lips. Her chin lifted as she paced along on the side of the dusty road. It was only two miles to town. She could make it in less than an hour.
    And then what?

Chapter Two
    W inston Gray was a good doctor. He didn’t need the opinions of the townspeople to recognize the fact, although they were ever ready with praise on his behalf. He’d filled a need in Whitehorn, and the men on the town council had been jubilant at his arrival.
    They’d given him a house in which to live and set up his practice, and he’d been properly grateful, although they’d said it was just part of the package.
    The rest of the parcel included a whole community of men, women and children who’d done without the services of a doctor for almost two years. Harry Talbert’s wife had done her best, but being the wife of a barber did not automatically fit her for the role she’d been called on to perform.
    â€œI’m sure glad you came to Whitehorn,” she’d told him that first day when he climbed from the stagecoach. “I’ve had to sew up more cuts than you can shake a stick at, and deliverin’ babies is not what I do best.” Her grin had welcomed him, as had her unexpectedly firm handshake, matched by the dozen or so men who’d joined her to meet the stage.
    He’d settled in nicely, awaiting the arrival of his office equipment, and the shiny, walnut desk he’d ordered from SaintLouis. For several months he’d spent time with the people of the community, tending to their problems, mending broken bones and stitching up their wounds, with an occasional delivery tossed in for variety. A box of medicine he’d brought with him kept his black bag supplied, and he’d ordered more as it was needed from a pharmaceutical outfit in Kansas City.
    Now, his day half done, he polished the bell of his stethoscope with the cuff of his shirt sleeve, awaiting his first patient of the afternoon office hours. His morning and most of the night spent on house calls, he’d only just arrived back in town. He’d been at Caleb Kincaid’s ranch, setting a broken leg for one of Caleb’s ranch hands who’d been thrown from a horse.
    Called from his bed just past midnight, he’d ridden to the Darby ranch, where Matt’s wife had delivered her fourth boy just after daybreak. She could have likely done it on her own, he recalled with a smile, but had gratefully inhaled the chloroform he’d dosed her with at the end.
    Bone-weary, but willing, Win opened his office door, noting with thankfulness the dearth of patients. That would soon be remedied when the chill winds blew in from the north in the next few weeks, and folks began the usual run of pleurisy and other winter ailments.
    He might do well to consider outfitting himself with a sleigh, once snow fell and the buggy could no longer traverse the open country. There were always folks needing house calls, those too old or infirm to make it into town. It was a part of the business he’d chosen, he decided,