Cowboy Creek Christmas: Mistletoe Reunion. Cheryl St.John
Читать онлайн книгу.
language, but different countries,” Marlys said. “There are different inflections in their dialects.”
Gus licked his lips at the steaming bowl Aunt Mae sat before him. “You speak German?”
“I do. I’m looking for someone to teach me Cheyenne.”
Gus squinted at her.
She seated herself and thanked the proprietress. She tasted the hearty soup. “I’m also looking for someone to install a lock on a storage pantry. Is there a local locksmith?”
“The farrier does locks,” Horace told her. “Colton Werner’s his name.”
“He’s the blacksmith who married the Austrian woman,” Aunt Mae explained.
“So, I’d find him at the livery to the north on this same street?”
“That’s the one,” the woman replied. “Speaking of newcomers, we have a new boarder. Georgia Morris is her name. She’s here to make a marriage, so she won’t last long.” She eyed Marlys. “Are you making friends in Cowboy Creek?”
Sam had asked the same question. Why did everyone want to know? While she wasn’t averse to having friends, she had simply never had the time. “I haven’t been here long enough.”
“Maybe, but you’ve stayed to yourself for the most part. There’s church service on Sundays, and this week there’s a gathering afterward. You should go. Just meet people. They’ll be more likely to trust you with their medical concerns if you’ve made their acquaintance.”
Marlys studied the older woman thoughtfully. As a doctor, she had a lot working against her, to be honest. She was a woman in a man’s profession in a man’s land. She didn’t practice conventional medicine. She had never been outgoing or personable. She didn’t care about fitting in, but perhaps giving the appearance of fitting in would make her more appealing and earn trust. Aunt Mae was genial and well-meaning, and she had no lack of helpful opinions. Marlys appreciated learning, so perhaps there was something to be learned from this woman everyone liked.
Marlys finished her lunch and thanked her landlady.
The blacksmith was a large man with a nice face and scarred hands. He listened to her explain what she needed, and told her he’d be able to do the work the following day.
She stopped at Godwin’s boot and shoe shop, and a thin brown-haired woman wearing a print dress and a white apron greeted her. “Good afternoon. I’m Opal Godwin. Can I help you?”
Marlys removed her scarf. “I hope so. My boots get wet so often, they’re never dry by the next time I go out. I need another pair.”
“It’s going to be a long winter,” the woman said with a smile. “Have a seat and I’ll draw your foot for my husband.” She knelt and unlaced Marlys’s boots. “Are you Miss Morris?”
“No, I’m Dr. Boyd.”
“Oh, I’ve heard about you from Pippa. Sorry I haven’t made it over to welcome you. I’ve been busier than usual.”
The fact that she’d meant to stop over heartened Marlys. “That’s quite all right.”
“Your boots are very well-made.”
“And comfortable. I want practical and comfortable.”
A thready high-pitched cry arose from the rear of the room. Opal placed a hand over her breast and glanced up. “It never fails. He cries as soon as I’m busy. And I’m always busy.”
“Bring him to me while you do that. I’ll hold him.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. It’s practical.”
Opal returned with a baby wrapped in a white crocheted blanket. He looked to be only a few weeks old. Marlys looked him over, even listened to his breathing and held him up to rest her ear against his chest. He flailed his arms, so she tucked him snugly back in the blanket. “His heart and lungs sound healthy. He appears to be a sturdy child.”
Opal blinked at her, and then smiled. “I was extremely exhausted while I carried him, but Richard’s a good eater and is growing.”
“You probably needed more minerals and protein in your diet. Nourishing him depletes your own reserves. Are you eating well now?”
“Yes.”
“Drink as much milk as you can. I can make a supplement that will help you, too.”
Opal appeared somewhat uncomfortable with her suggestion.
“I suppose you’ve heard things about me.”
“No, it’s just that Leah is my friend...”
“And the midwife, I understand.”
Opal nodded.
“Well, talk to her first, and then come to see me if you choose.”
Opal drew patterns of both of Marlys’s feet on brown paper and wrote on them. She showed her leather samples, and Marlys chose a supple dark brown.
“And we’ll make you a sturdy heel. Just enough to be fashionable, but not so much as to lose comfort.”
“Perhaps another fur-lined pair as well as a pair for indoors,” she decided.
Opal looked pleased. “I’ll show you the styles we have.”
Marlys chose a style, and Opal wrote notes for her husband.
Baby Richard had fallen asleep in her arms, and Marlys took a moment to admire his downy hair and tiny rosebud lips. What had Sam’s son looked like as an infant? She imagined wispy black hair and round cheeks.
“Your first pair should be ready in less than a week.”
Marlys looked from the baby to the eyes of the new mother. She remembered what Aunt Mae had said about people trusting her if she made friends. Her heart beat faster against the weight of the baby, but she opened her mouth to speak. “It’s a lot to get used to caring for a new baby, isn’t it?”
“It is, but he’s a blessing.”
“If you come by my office, I’d love to prepare a mineral bath for you. Just to relax for an hour or so. I’ll make a bed for Richard, or I’ll hold him. My treat.”
Opal’s brown eyes showed her surprise, but also appreciation. “Thank you, Dr. Boyd. I’ve heard only good things about your mineral bath treatments from Pippa.”
Marlys stood and, after another tender look at the baby, handed Richard to his mother, then laced up her boots. Maybe it wouldn’t be all that difficult to make friends. It would be nice to feel accepted—and a little less alone. “I’ll check back next week.”
“If they’re finished sooner, I’ll bring your boots to you.”
Marlys smiled and headed back to her office.
* * *
The first edition of the Webster County Daily News came off the press the following day. Sam and Israel folded, stacked and bundled papers. The sun came out as though in celebration of the big day. Accompanied by August, the three of them traveled the streets of Cowboy Creek, where melting snow formed ruts of oozing mud. Sam cleaned his boots on the iron scraper in front of Remmy Hagermann’s mercantile. He’d already made arrangements with as many stores as possible to keep a stack of newspapers until he replaced any old ones with new.
Remmy greeted him with a smile and a wave. “The first edition, eh?”
“It’s here.”
“I’m looking forward to actual news. Our last newspaperman skewed everything to make situations look bleak. We all figured it out too late. He was undermining the town for his own cause. We’re glad to have you. You’re a