Accidental Courtship. Lisa Bingham
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hands curled into tight fists, her jaw growing tight.
She hadn’t been a silly girl then, and she didn’t plan on being one now. Nor had she set her sights on marriage. She was a doctor, and she needed to behave like one. Especially when people’s lives might hang in the balance.
Inwardly, she took stock of herself, noting the bumps and bruises, the stinging pains. When she felt sure nothing was broken, she lifted a hand to the sticky wetness trickling down her forehead. Blood seeped from a cut near her hairline, and just below that, she found a lump on her forehead the size of a goose egg.
Go on, cry. Girls always gotta cry cuz they’re weak.
But she wasn’t weak. Never had been. Never would be.
“Ladies? Is everyone okay?”
Silence pressed against her, accompanied by odd creaks and groans. But finally, there was a faint cry.
“Here. I’m here.”
Sumner thought she recognized the voice of Miss Willow Granger, the shy woman who’d sat in the seat behind her. She hadn’t said much on their cross-country journey, but when she had, Sumner had recognized the broad vowels of Manchester’s working class and it had reminded her of home. “Willow?”
“Yes, miss?”
“Are you hurt?”
It was quiet for a moment, then, “No. I don’t think so. But I’m pinned by some fallen trunks.”
Another wave of light-headedness threatened to overtake her, and Sumner squeezed her eyes shut. She’d been so close to her destination! Only that morning, the train had left the fertile farmlands of Utah Territory to thread through the last mountain pass. The grade had become steeper there. They’d followed that course until the canyon had abruptly opened into a narrow valley, and she’d been sure that finally she’d reached Aspen Valley.
And then...
There’d been a roaring noise. A wall of snow slammed into the car, throwing them from their seats. Then they were tumbling...
Sumner opened her eyes again. As she finally began to focus, she could make out the confines of the railway car—unfamiliar now, with blackened windows and seats hanging giddily above her. Around her lay a flotsam of bags, loose articles of clothing, books...
“Do you think you can get yourself free, Willow?”
Sumner heard a rustling noise, then, “No. I’m wedged in tight.”
“Are any of the other women nearby?”
“I—I don’t know. It’s too dark to tell.”
This time, as Sumner gazed around her, she was able to make some sense of what she was seeing. The world wasn’t as dark as she had at first supposed. Instead, packed snow was preventing the light from shining inside.
Sumner tried to find the other women in the dimness, but since the railway carriage had tipped on its side, she couldn’t discern anything in detail. Instead, she saw a hand here, a foot there, a ruffled flounce.
She had to help them get out.
There was no telling how tightly the snow had sealed off the car. The women would need fresh air before Sumner could assess their injuries.
Sumner rolled her head to investigate, and there, just a few yards away, she could see a thin shaft of light piercing through the gloom.
“Willow, I don’t think I can make my way back to you, but if I can get outside...”
When the avalanche had struck, Sumner had seen a quick glimpse of a town in the valley. She’d even smiled when the other women had teased her about disembarking from the train at the famed “Bachelor Bottoms”—the nickname given to the mine for its peculiar regulations: no drinking, cussing, smoking, gambling or women.
How the mining community had decided on hiring a female doctor had been the source of speculation for most of their journey from Denver—especially since the passenger train had been reserved, primarily, for a handful of small families, a few widows and a group of mail-order brides heading for Salt Lake City, San Francisco and Seattle.
“If I can get out, I can get help from the mine.”
“Go, miss. The others are bound to rouse soon enough and I can tell them where you’ve gone.”
Behind her, Sumner heard a muffled moan, and she knew that she didn’t have any time to waste. The other women could be injured—perhaps seriously. But she couldn’t care for them in the dim light of the ruined carriage. And if there was a possibility of the car shifting or another avalanche thundering down upon them...
“Hold on, ladies,” she called out to anyone who might be conscious enough to hear her. “I’ll be back soon with help.”
Fighting the tangle of her skirts and the debris that littered what had once been a wall of windows, she crouched low and crawled toward that beam of light. Thankfully, she’d been seated near the front, so once she’d wriggled over the seats, she was able to brace open the ruined door and dig her way onto the mangled outer landing. Although most of the space had been compacted with snow, there was a small gap. If she could use the decorative railing to hoist herself up, she could probably push her way to the top.
Sumner rued the fact that she’d removed her mittens and heavy coat soon after boarding the train. Her fingers already throbbed with cold, but she refused to be cowed by the discomfort. As a physician, she knew that time was of the essence.
Help me, Dear Lord. Please.
Burrowing like a mole, she finally managed to maneuver her hand up to the gap above her. Biting her lip, she wedged the toe of her boot into the twisted iron railing and clawed at the ice, gradually making the aperture large enough for her head, her shoulders. Then, as she reached up, something snagged her wrist.
A squeak of surprise burst from her lips before she realized that it was another hand that gripped her. A very strong, masculine hand crisscrossed with faint scars.
She thought that a low voice called out, “Over here, boys!”
Relief swept through her. “Help is already here, everyone. Just hold on!” she called out to the gloom behind her.
A deep voice came from above. “Can you grab me with your other hand?”
“I—I think so.”
She wrapped her fingers around the broad, tanned wrist.
“I’m going to try to yank you out. Don’t let go.”
“Yes. O-okay.”
“You ready?”
“Yes, I’m—”
Sumner didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence before she was wrenched from her nest of ice. For a moment, her body seemed weightless, flying through the air, before she felt herself falling, landing over the body of her rescuer.
Sputtering, she struggled to catch her breath. Then her gaze latched on to a masculine face, dark wavy hair, a beard touched with threads of gray and eyes the same mix of brown, green and blue as the river that wound through the canyon gorge.
He regarded her with an equal measure of surprise before it became quite clear to her that he’d just figured out that she was a woman in a camp famed for its lack of females.
Sumner’s cheeks grew heated and she scrambled to stand up. But with the tangle of her skirts and the slipperiness of the ice, she wedged herself more tightly into the stranger’s embrace.
She could feel her cheeks growing hot, but every time she put a hand down to brace herself, she touched his arm, his shoulder, until—finally—two sets of fists grabbed her and pulled her upright.
She wavered for a moment, a swirl of dizziness nearly pitching her onto the ground again. In an effort to appear calm and collected, she planted