A Convenient Wife

She dumped them into her small reticule and replaced the bowl. Then in a moment of rebellion, she snatched it back and settled it in the top of her valise.

“It’s the last thing I have of yours, Mama,” she whispered. “I won’t leave it for him.”

The faraway sound of men’s voices came to her as she walked out the back door, looking toward the near pasture. The big farm wagon rolled across its width, filled with men holding scythes, her father holding the reins of his team of draft horses. One of the men, John Dixon, looked up, nudged another, and shook his head slowly in her direction.

Whether it was an expression of sympathy or a declaration of disgust she couldn’t tell, and as she set off staunchly down the lane toward the town road, she decided she didn’t care.

That she was a fallen woman was a fact she could face. That her father had turned on her with a vengeance beyond belief was more than a reality, as her bruised and battered body could attest. Her hips ached as she walked the length of the pasture fence. Her eye throbbed, and she squinted through its swollen slit as she turned onto the dirt track leading to 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

Winston 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.

“I’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 Saint Louis. 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, although business was too harsh and uncaring a word for the lifestyle he’d accepted upon finishing medical school.

Business best described the world of his father and uncles, the world of finance, where money was the god they worshipped, and his love of medicine and its benefits to humanity had met with scorn and derision.

“You’ll come crawling back one day,” his father had said, his voice harsh as he’d delivered his final thrust. There’d never been a word of admiration for Win’s success in medical school, or a note of support for his choice of medicine as a career.

Win took off his spectacles, recalling that day when he’d turned his back on family and the social scene in Saint Louis to come to this small town in Montana, where a doctor was desperately needed, and fervently appreciated.

“Doctor?” The outer door opened and Tess Dillard stood on the threshold. “Are you busy?”

Win smiled. The storekeeper’s wife was a lovely lady, friend to all, and one of his staunchest supporters, sending him all and sundry who complained of major or minor illnesses. “Come on in, Tess. I’m just wondering where all my afternoon quota of patients have gone.”

“It’s too nice out to be sick, Doc. This spell of warm weather won’t last forever, and folks are taking advantage of it. School’s started up early this year, but before you know it we’ll have snow falling. Time enough then to be visiting the doctor.” Her cheerful words only served to support his own theory, and Win motioned to her expansively.

“Come on in,” he said warmly. “Did you need to see me for anything special or is this a social visit?” He eyed her suspiciously. “You’re not about to offer me up another young lady on a platter, are you, Tess? I told you I’m not in the market for a wife.”

She shook her head. “No, not this time, Doc, but one of these days, I’ll come up with a woman you won’t be able to resist.” She crossed the room and sat on one of the straight chairs he furnished for waiting patients. “There’s something going on I thought you needed to be aware of.”

Win joined her, pulling a second chair from its place against the wall and scooting it closer to where she sat. “What’s the problem? What can I do?”

Tess glanced out the open door. “I’m kinda keepin’ an eye out for the girl, Doc. I’m afraid she’s run out of choices, and I’m worried about her.”

“What girl?” Win asked, and even as he spoke the words, his heart sank. Ellie Mitchum. As sure as he was of his own name, he knew the words that would fall from Tess’s mouth next.

“It’s Ellie, George Mitchum’s daughter. I don’t know if you’re aware of her existence even, but she’s gonna need a doctor before long, and I’m afraid you’re elected. In fact, she could probably use some of your witch hazel and that arnica stuff you used on my boy’s banged up leg when he got it bruised so bad last month.”

“Tincture of Arnica,” Win said distractedly, his mind racing. “What are we talking about here, Tess? Have you seen Ellie today? What’s wrong with her?”

“You know her?” Tess frowned, taken aback by his recognition of the girl’s name.

Win nodded quickly. “She was in here yesterday. Said—” He halted the words that would have spewed from his lips. “Well, let’s just say she needed a bit of advice.”

Tess slanted him a knowing glance. “She’s going to have a baby, Doc. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

He nodded. “I noticed, all right. Did she tell you when she left here? I saw her stop at the mercantile.”

“No,” Tess answered. “I figured it out, once I took a good look at her. She hadn’t been in town for a couple of months, but I knew when I saw her comin’ in the door of the store she was in the family way. Now today, just after noon, she came walkin’ into the mercantile, and she’s all banged up. Looks like somebody ran her over with a team of horses.”

Win stood, his heart racing. “She was in an accident?”

Tess shook her head. “Not unless you call running into her father’s fists accidental. She looks like he pounded her good.”

Win felt his stomach clench, and anger rose to tighten his jaw. “She must have told him about the baby,” he surmised, wishing for just a moment that he could lay his hands on the brute who had fathered the young woman.

“I expect so,” Tess answered, her eyes bleak. “She came in to see me, asking if I could use her help in exchange for a place to stay for a while. Don’t know where she’s planning on going or what she’ll do when she gets there.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Win strode to the doorway. A vision of the young woman he’d seen yesterday appeared in his mind’s eye. That her piquant beauty should be marred by a father’s anger was not to be tolerated. And yet, there would be no one to stand up for the girl. A father was the authority in today’s society, especially here on the edge of civilization.

He turned abruptly. “Tess, where is she now?”

“At our place, stretched out on a bed. She was absolutely exhausted, poor child. I made her get washed up and showed her the bed. She didn’t even have the energy to eat something first, just plopped down and closed her eyes.”

Tess looked at him expectantly. “Will you do something to help?”

“You got something in mind?” he asked.

“I thought maybe she could come in by the day and do for you. You know, cook and clean, maybe.” Tess surged to her feet. “No woman deserves to be an outcast, Doc. And I’m afraid that’s what’s in Ellie’s future. There’s certain women in town who will turn their backs on her once everyone realizes her condition. And there’s others who’ll sympathize, but keep quiet.”

“Cook and clean.” As if his mind had latched on to the phrase, he repeated it, almost absently. And then he cast her a penetrating glance. “This isn’t one of your matchmaking projects, is it?”

Tess colored, shaking her head. “No, of course not. For heaven’s sake, a doctor should have a wife above reproach in the community. That’s why I’ve tried to get you interested in several of the young women from the better families.”

“Ellie told me my yard needed watering,” Win said, a smile coming to life as he recalled her words. “Send her over when she wakes up, Tess. I’ll see what I can do.”

The scraps from last night’s roast lay heavy in the pit of her stomach as Ellie awoke. Sleeping the afternoon away wasn’t something she generally did, and the undigested food she’d eaten on the long walk to town hadn’t agreed with her. She struggled to sit upright, the bed having an unfortunate tendency to sag in the middle.

Once on her feet, she scooped her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and sought out the hairpins she’d placed on the night table. It might not be neat and tidy, but it was as good as a hairdo could be expected to look when a day had gone as poorly as this one.

The scent of chicken cooking lured her to the kitchen, and she crossed the room to the back door, opening it wide, inhaling deeply of the fresh air. Food was not at the top of her list right now, but Tess and John Dillard would be home from the mercantile soon, and if supper was ready, they would probably be most appreciative.

The oven held a whole roasting hen and from the looks of it, it only needed potatoes and vegetables added to complete the meal. Ellie explored the pantry, finding a bucket of new potatoes, and a bunch of carrots. Cooking gave her a sense of accomplishment, and she scouted out a paring knife, her capable hands readying the vegetables for the oven. A pan of stale bread, cut up into cubes, told her that Tess had plans for chicken stuffing, and in minutes, Ellie had cut up an onion and found spices to complete that dish.

She drained broth from the roasting hen into the bread pan and mixed the stuffing quickly, placing it in a greased tin to bake. Outside the back door, two little girls played in the afternoon sunshine, and waved in her direction when they saw her in the doorway.

“Mama said to let you sleep. She told us we wasn’t to disturb you,” the tallest of the two said cheerfully. “This here is my friend Alice. And I’m June-bug. At least that’s what my papa calls me. And sometimes he calls me an afterthought.” She grinned widely. “I don’t know what it means, but he always laughs and hugs me when he says it.”

June-bug. Ellie smiled, even as a sadness descended over her. Imagine having a father who would designate his daughter as such, who would tease the little girl with a nickname, bringing smiles to her freckled face.

“June-bug sounds like a wonderful name,” Ellie said. “I’m just Ellie.”

“My mama told me. Is that what your papa calls you?”

Ellie nodded. But not lately, she thought, the memory of those hated appellations he’d shouted in her direction coming to mind. Not lately.

“Are you cookin’ our supper?” June-bug asked. “I can smell chicken.”

“Your mama had it in the oven. I’m just putting some potatoes and carrots in with it.”

“She’ll be glad,” the child said with a sharp nod. “She’s kinda tired when she gets home. And when my sisters got married last year, there wasn’t nobody left to cook dinner, but me and Mama. And she won’t let me touch the stove without her bein’ here to watch.”

Tess was more than glad, her words joyous as she followed John into the house less than an hour later. “You didn’t have to cook for us,” she exclaimed, eyeing the pan Ellie had just taken from the oven. “But I surely do appreciate it, Ellie. June said you were making biscuits when she looked in the door a while ago.”

“We may just keep you,” John teased, up to his elbows in soapsuds as he washed up at the sink.

Ellie smiled, forcing a pleasant look, as she caught sight of Tess’s sympathetic glance in her direction. She’d looked in the mirror herself; knew the sight of a swollen eye and cheek would be causing talk around the town should she appear in public. It was enough that she’d paraded down the road with her head bowed, finding her way to the back door of the mercantile in order to see if Tess could use any help.

“You’ve got no need for me,” Ellie said bluntly. “But I’ll find something to do. Maybe I can get a job at one of the ranches.”

“I may have something in mind,” Tess told her. “I stopped by to see Doc Gray earlier. He might have need of you. Man never eats right, and he’s having to send out his washing to be done. I’ll warrant his floors haven’t seen a scrub rag in a month, since he had Eula Peters in to clean up things.”

“Dr. Gray? You want me to go clean his house and cook his meals?” Ellie closed her mouth with a snap of her jaw. “He can’t afford to have a woman like me hanging around his neck. Folks would talk if I were to work for him.”

“Just go and see what he has to say,” Tess told her soothingly. “I suggested it and he didn’t seem to take it poorly. In fact, he told me to send you over. He wants to talk to you.”

Ellie gritted her teeth. “I’m going to need a place to stay. I don’t think it’ll work, Mrs. Dillard.”

“Let’s eat first,” Tess suggested. “And then you can go talk to him.”

Ellie wavered. “I’ll walk over there a little later on. I don’t want any more folks to see me than have to, with me looking like this.” She bent to take the stuffing pan from the oven. “I hope you don’t mind that I made this. I saw the bread all cut up and I thought it was what you intended.”

“You’re a gem, Ellie.” Tess’s praise was heartfelt as she sank into a chair at the table. “I’m not usually one to take advantage, but I’ve had a long day. I thought I was doing well to come home long enough to stick a chicken in the oven. Hadn’t even gotten as far as what we’d have with it.”

“Well, if I can’t do much else, I’m a good cook. At least my pa never had any complaints,” Ellie said stoically. Her gaze scanned the table, where plates and silverware awaited. “I guess you can eat now.”

“Aren’t you going to join us, Ellie?” John asked, glancing at his wife with a puzzled look.

“I’m not hungry,” Ellie admitted, sidling toward the door. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take a walk around the back way to the doctor’s house. If he’s willing to give me work, I can’t afford to turn it down.”

“Take some of this chicken with you,” Tess offered, rising quickly and bustling to the cupboard for a container. “We’ve got more than enough. Unless I miss my guess, Doc will be thankful for a decent meal.” She darted a look at Ellie, and smiled widely. “Maybe he’ll be impressed if you tell him you did the cooking.”

The bread was moldy and the milk had gone sour. All in all, supper looked to be a complete disaster, Win decided. Scrambled eggs didn’t taste like much without a piece of bread alongside, and he’d lost his appetite for them anyway. With a shrug, he left the kitchen to stalk through the living room, and sat down on the front stoop, reaching to pet the stray cat who’d been hanging around lately.

“I’d give you the milk, cat, but you’d turn your nose up at it,” he murmured. He glanced toward the hotel, where the dining room offered a decent meal. Somehow, it seemed to require too much effort, and he decided to settle for a can of peaches from the pantry.

A movement caught his eye and he turned his head to where a woman’s slight form approached from around the corner of the house. “You weren’t in the kitchen,” Ellie said, “so I came around, hoping to find you.” She carried a pie tin, covered with a bleached dish towel, and his hopes for a decent meal rose from the depths to a more palatable level.

“What’s that you’ve got?” he asked, aware of an optimistic note in his voice.

“Mrs. Dillard sent over some of their supper, in case you’re hungry,” Ellie said. “I’d hand it over, but the pan’s hot, and you don’t want to burn your fingers. I suspect your patients would admire you more without blisters.”

He grinned at her dry remark and hastened to open the screen door. “Come on in, Ellie. Go on through to the kitchen and put it on the stove.” He followed her, lured by the scent of chicken, and watched as she lowered the tin plate to the back burner. Placing the dish towel she’d used for padding aside, she removed the covering.

“I made stuffing to go with Mrs. Dillard’s roasting hen, and I brought plenty for you. I must have thought I was gonna feed an army, with the big panful I put together.”

“Tell you what,” he said hastily, reaching for a cupboard door. “I’ll get out some plates. It looks like there’s enough for both of us.” He turned to look at her, dishes in his hand. “Or have you eaten already?”

She shook her head and he scrutinized her in the dim light, then decided against lighting a lamp. “I’m not real hungry,” she said quietly. “But I’ll be glad to dish you up some.”

“Sit down, Ellie,” he told her, and she sat on the nearest chair, then glanced up quickly, as if his firm tones might give way to anger. Placing two plates on the table, he lifted the meal she’d carried to his door and divided it, allowing himself the larger portion, knowing she would protest otherwise.

After retrieving two forks from the cutlery drawer, he approached her, then squatted beside her chair. His hand lifted to touch her swollen flesh and she flinched. “I won’t hurt you,” he said calmly. “I just want to see how much bruising you have.”

She nodded, sitting quietly beneath his touch, and he silently cursed the man who had done this. “Is there more?” he asked as he rose and circled the table.

Ellie hesitated. “Some.”

Win picked up his fork and took a bite, savoring the flavor of chicken and stuffing. “Where,” he asked after a moment.

Ellie looked up, startled, then replaced her empty fork on the table. “In places you don’t need to see.”

“I’m a doctor, Ellie.” He took another bite, and nodded at her. “Eat now and we’ll talk about it later.”

She sighed and obeyed his dictum, bending a bit, perhaps to hide the damage done her face, he thought. The next problem would involve coaxing her to allow him to examine the full effects of her father’s wrath.

The few bites of food left over from their meal were scraped onto a small dish on the back stoop for Win’s porch cat, and Ellie smiled as he described the stray who’d adopted him, taking occasional meals from his hand, although he didn’t allow her entry into the house. The dishes were washed with hot water from the reservoir on the side of the big black cook stove, and Ellie dried them carefully, putting them back in the cupboard.

“Mrs. Dillard says you might want me to do some work for you,” she ventured as she emptied the small dishpan and wiped it out with the cloth she’d used.

“That’s right,” Win answered. “I need someone to do up my washing. I’ve had the woman at the hotel doing it, but I fear she’s partial to bleach, and my best blue shirt has blotches all over it. I’d thought you might take a hand and see if you could keep me in order.”

“You need someone to cook?” she asked diffidently. “I’m pretty well able to keep a kitchen, and I’ve always been a good hand at housework.”

“I think we could work something out,” Win said quietly, watching as she wiped the table, then picked up the broom. “You don’t need to sweep right now,” he told her. “Come sit with me and we’ll talk.”

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.”