The Rancher Inherits A Family. Cheryl St.John
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a good boy. Thank you.” She handed Sam the small valise that held their belongings and he led them out the door.
An ache opened in her chest as she watched them leave with a stranger. She’d been a stranger to them until a few days ago, and now she was their lifeline. They were vulnerable and helpless in a world of unfamiliar people.
Except for Seth Halloway, of course, she reminded herself. He was a strong capable man, willing and able to take over their care. Just as soon as he was on his feet again.
“I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping tonight,” Marlys told her. “It’s perfectly comfortable. I lived here before Sam and I married last year. I carried your pet’s cage into the room earlier.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“Marlys, please.” She led the way into a long narrow room that ran the width of the building. It held a bed and bureau, a woodstove and a table with two chairs. “Feel free to make yourself a pot of tea. There’s wood in the bin. The necessary is at the end of the path out back. It’s visible in the moonlight.”
It had been six days since Marigold had dressed in her nightgown and been afforded a comfortable place to rest. Her entire body ached, and exhaustion was catching up with her. From her cage, Peony, too, was making her displeasure clear. Marigold unfastened the latch and the long-haired ginger cat stepped out, immediately inspecting the area.
Marigold had dreamed of a cup of tea, but tonight she settled for a glass of water and poured a bowlful for the cat. Marigold slipped the thick braided ribbon leash she’d made for the train ride around Peony’s neck and let her out for a few minutes, talking softly to her the whole time. Bringing Peony on the train had been challenging, but Marigold had lost so much already, she couldn’t bear to leave her pet behind. Peony symbolized home and stability—a small comfort, but a much-needed one. It would be good to get settled, so the poor dear could get used to a home again.
She changed into a delightfully unrestrictive soft cotton gown and climbed under the covers on the narrow bed. Peony leaped up and stretched along her side, her purring loud in the small room. Sweet comfort engulfed Marigold, and she stroked the animal’s soft fur. She prayed whoever took her in first was amenable to having the cat as well. “Thank You, Lord, for hearing my prayer in that railcar and sending Mr. Halloway.”
She thought of Little John’s frightened eyes, of Harper’s inquisitiveness and Tate’s brave front. Seth Halloway was going to take good care of them. He was a responsible, hardworking person. Even lying down, he probably looked like a giant to them. Fingers curled in the cat’s long silky fur, she imagined the giant tied down by the six-inch inhabitants of Lilliput in Gulliver’s Travels and smiled.
It was the last thought she had until sleep claimed her.
When she opened her eyes again, sunlight was streaming through the small window at the end of the room. She couldn’t recall falling asleep, but she remembered the strange dream. The grainy mirror over the bureau reflected a rested yet disheveled young woman with a garish purple bruise on her chin. She set her valise on the bed and found her hairbrush. Several minutes later, after dressing, gathering her clean hair into a tidy knot and feeding the cat, she put Peony back into her cage and stepped into the office.
She discovered Marlys working in an enormous cabinet filled with hanging stems and dozens of bottles and jars. The earthy aroma was strong, but not unpleasant, and unlike anything she’d ever smelled.
“I didn’t intend to sleep so long,” she said, apologizing after she greeted the doctor.
“You needed your rest. I remember what that journey was like.”
“How is Mr. Halloway this morning?”
“It’s going to be difficult keeping him still,” Marlys told her. “He’s dressed and eaten already. Aunt Mae sent food for all of us.” She pointed toward a tray on the nearby table. “There’s yours. While you eat, I’ll make you a small poultice for your chin.”
Marigold looked over the labeled jars and crocks, the bunches of hanging dried plants. “What is all this?”
Marlys explained about her practice, how she gathered most of her herbs and roots, how she’d learned healing techniques from the Cheyenne and Chinese. She was a fascinating woman, one Marigold hoped to get to know better.
“James Johnson will be here in a bit to escort all of you to the ranch,” Marlys told her. “He’s a nice young man with a baby girl named Ava. His wife, Hannah, is a skilled seamstress. Her services are in such high demand, she’s had to hire help in her shop.”
Marigold uncovered the food tray and found oatmeal, toast and cooked apple slices that smelled like cinnamon. She scooped them into her oatmeal and perched on a stool near the doctor to eat. “I’m sure there are a lot of new people to meet.”
“How did you come to teach—and to accept this position?”
“My mother was sickly and my father traveled a lot. I had a teacher who took an interest in me, and when her husband went to fight, she and I spent a lot of time together. She helped me get my teaching certificate. Her husband didn’t return from the war, so she moved to be with family. That’s when I became the schoolteacher in our small town, Athens, Ohio. My older sister and I inherited our parents’ home, so things were comfortable enough for a while.”
None of that explained why she was here. She rested her spoon on the tray. She’d come here to put all of this behind her but for some reason she related her story to the woman. “We both worked and cared for my niece. It wasn’t easy for a couple of years, but we had each other. Then Daisy got sick. I took care of her, but she got weaker and weaker until she died.”
The doctor turned and gave her a sympathetic nod. “I’m sorry.” Then she handed her a warm wet cloth covered in pungent-smelling leaves. “Press that to the bruise.”
Marigold did as instructed. The soothing warmth felt good. “After that I just couldn’t stay in that big empty house.”
“And your niece? Where is she?”
A crushing weight pressed against Marigold’s heart. She flattened her palm against her breast as though to relieve the ache. “She... Her father came and got her. She went to live with him.”
“I didn’t mean to pry.”
Marigold shook her head. “No, it’s all right. We all have our stories.”
A sound alerted them to another’s presence in the room. She turned to discover Seth Halloway’s imposing presence several feet away. He’d dressed in his clothing, which had obviously been laundered and pressed since yesterday—brown trousers, a loose white shirt without a collar and suspenders. He had a worn holster with a revolver slung over his shoulder. She’d thought him imposing lying down, but he was an even more intimidating figure standing erect.
“Mr. Halloway experienced one of my mineral baths this morning.” The lady doctor closed and locked her cupboard before walking toward him. “How does your side feel now?”
“Surprisingly better.”
“Is your head hurting any longer?”
“No.”
She reached up to move the hair from his forehead, and Marigold astonished herself by wondering what that lock felt like to the touch. Her fingertips against the poultice pack tingled, and warmth crept into her cheeks.
“The swelling has gone down,” Marlys told him. “All you need now is rest. I’m going to warn you the ride home won’t be pleasant with those bruised ribs. I want you to take a tincture for the trip.”
“It feels better.”
The business-like lady doctor put a hand on her hip. “Do you want to spend the entire ride in pain and pretending it doesn’t hurt so you don’t frighten the children?”
His lowered eyebrows showed he hadn’t