The rugged doctors redem.., p.6
The Rugged Doctor's Redemption, page 6
“Please sit,” she urged, gesturing toward the furniture. “I have made tea, and I will bring out the kettle!” Flora padded toward the kitchen in the corner of the room.
“You know, you honestly don’t have to make me tea, every time I stop by, Mrs. Moore,” Herman said, lowering himself onto the plush cushions. Even as he said this, though, he knew that he enjoyed Flora’s hospitality. Being out here in this town that was still relatively new to him, with no family, Flora filled that maternal role in his life that he had been missing since his own mother’s passing.
Glancing over her shoulder at him, Flora raised a brow and said, “Now don’t be arrogant, who said I made tea solely for you?” Her teasing grin told Herman that she spoke in jest.
Herman laughed, shaking his head. Flora winked at him and grabbed the kettle, the steam percolating from the spout as she approached the small coffee table before the couch. Placing the kettle on the table, Flora made quick work of gathering teacups and setting them beside the kettle.
When she went to pour the tea, Herman placed a hand on her wrist, staying her. “How about we begin the examination of your eyes first, before we enjoy this lovely tea?”
Flora blinked up at him before nodding reluctantly. “All right. Let’s get this part over with, I suppose.”
Herman had Flora sit on the couch where he had been sitting. He leaned over her, carefully inspecting her eyes with his instrument. Herman’s heart tightened as he noted the cloudiness that filmed her lenses, which was more prominent than the last time he examined her. Upon closer examination, he noticed that her eye shape was altered—the lack of rounds more pronounced as her retina had further deteriorated. Lips thinned, he straightened.
Flora tipped her head to the side. “Well, doctor? Give it to me straight, now.”
He licked his lower lip. “I am afraid Flora, that there has been no improvement in your sight.”
Her shoulders sagged. “And the deterioration is worsening, am I correct in assuming that?”
Herman paused, not wishing to saddle Flora with such dismal news. But she had asked for honesty, and he knew that was what she deserved. He heaved a sigh, raking his large hand through his hair. “I am sorry to say so, but yes, Flora. I am afraid you are correct.”
Flora’s lips twisted. "I figured as much. I can tell just by doing my everyday tasks that my vision is becoming worse. Yesterday I made a pie and made just a mess about this kitchen.” She laughed drily, but her voice had been small. She realized the severity of the situation.
Herman reached out an arm, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, or at least she attempted to, but her gaze slightly landed over his shoulder rather than on his face due to the vision loss. Herman’s shoulders fell at how obvious it was becoming. Even a lay person with no medical training could look at her and see that she was suffering from vision loss. His heart clenched at the notion of being so helpless as to treat this sweet elder woman. “I am sorry, Mrs. Moore. I truly wish that there was something I could do. Sadly, medical research has just not caught up with us yet.”
Flora offered a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “This is no fault of yours, Doctor Randall, and I won’t have you blaming yourself. This is merely old age setting in. I am not as young and spritely as I used to be, and this is just a natural symptom of that.”
She reached up and clasped his hand in hers. “There is nothing more that can be done, so stop letting it eat you up inside, you hear me? You’re a good doctor and a good man. This town is blessed to have you.”
Herman smiled sadly. “Yes, Mrs. Moore.” Herman offered a gentle squeeze in return and then removed his hand from hers. Perhaps this was why he visited Mrs. Moore more often than required of him for routine examinations. Around her, he almost didn’t feel like the town doctor, but rather a boy. She encouraged him the way a mother would a son, and he needed that human connection.
Herman decided then that he could not give up on Mrs. Moore. Not until he had exhausted all options and explored all the new research in the field of optometry that he could find. New medical advances were happening every day in this age. There had to be something out there that could possibly help.
Stepping over to his medical bag, Herman withdrew a leather pouch. He faced Miss Moore. “I have some herbal supplements that can help slow the progression of your eyesight failing. This might buy us some time while I do some more research.” He extended the pouch to her.
Flora took the pouch and opened it, peering inside to view the contents. “What’s the herb?”
“This is called Belladonna,” Herman replied.
Flora raised a brow. “But, Doctor Randall, you already gave me herbs for my eyesight.”
“That was Euphrasia,” Herman said. He smiled, pointing at the pouch containing the herbs. “But this plant, the nightshade, has stronger properties. Hopefully, we’ll get some better results from this one.”
Offering him a small smile, Flora said, “Lord willing.”
Herman nodded in agreement. “Amen.”
Flora let out a sigh, tucked the pouch away on the sofa, and brushed at nonexistent lint from her skirts. “Well, now, since your examination is over, I’d like to enjoy your company over some tea.”
Though Herman still felt ill at the possibility of Mrs. Moore eventually being plunged into a life of total darkness, unable to see the vibrant world around her, he found his spirits lifting slightly at her positive disposition.
He sat down across from her in the wooden chair stationed across from the coffee table. She reached for the tea but missed the mark the first time around. Herman reached forward and offered to pour for them both. Flora paused, mulling over his offer, before sitting back on the couch. Herman knew it was hard for her to accept help, and that this was going to be something that she would have to adapt to before she lost her vision entirely. She was such an independent, fierce woman.
Maybe that granddaughter of hers had something in common with Flora after all.
Pouring her a cup of tea first, Herman asked, “How is your granddaughter faring, today?”
“She is well,” Flora said, smiling. “Thanks for inquiring. Lena is out on the ranch.”
So her name is Lena.
Herman blinked, brow raised. “I must not have seen her as I rode in…”
Flora hummed in thought. “That’s probably because she was in the barn. She mentioned prepping food for the livestock.” Turning her gaze to the window at the far side of the room that overlooked the yard, Flora said, “Ah, I think that might be her. Of course, it’s all cloudy…”
Herman's gaze tracked alongside Flora's, and indeed, there she was, Flora's granddaughter, outside in the fading light of day. She moved gracefully across the yard, brushing a hand against her forehead to wipe away the perspiration that had gathered there. Her face was flushed from the exertion, her once-tight bun now a haphazard tangle of loose strands that framed her heart-shaped face.
A bolt of surprise coursed through Herman's frame. Observing her fair, porcelain skin and the unblemished hands resting by her side, she hardly seemed suited for the rigors of ranch work. He continued to watch her through the window, his mind meandering as he wondered which tasks the young woman might tackle next.
Chapter Five
“Come, on you dumb, blasted thing!” Lena snapped, her voice carrying a mix of irritation and exasperation. She knew the cow was just testing her patience, but this was one of those moments when her tolerance was wearing thin.
Digging in her booted heels, she heaved backward with her hands wrapped around the cow’s horns. The stubborn cow, determined not to be defeated, bellowed, and stood rooted in place. She refused to go forward, instead finding the patch of grass currently before her to be the choicest grazing option.
Lena let out an exasperated sigh. She knew, deep down, that cows were creatures of habit, ruled by their own whims and preferences. She knew their stubbornness was a fact of life, having grown up on a ranch. Still, today was not a day she wanted to deal with it.
Or any day, for that matter. Lena did not want to be a rancher; she wanted to be a lawyer. But life had happened, plans had changed, and now here she was, arguing with a cow.
Lena gasped, pausing to take a breath. A glance down at herself had Lena’s stomach pitching in dismay. Mud clung to her skirts like a sodden fringe. Her bosom was covered in mud and strands of her auburn hair were also encased in the muck. With her face flushed and panting, Lena shot a glare at the cow. The cow lifted its round brown eyes and peered at her with a nonplussed expression lining its muzzle.
“Move your brown hide, you cantankerous beast!” Lena bellowed, but the cow was unmoved by her annoyance.
Lena's determination to coax the stubborn cow forward intensified as she heaved backward once more. Her boots sunk into the soft, yielding earth beneath her, and the muddy ground squelched beneath her exertion. It was as though the very land conspired on behalf of the cow, refusing her efforts to maintain control.
Just as Lena began to feel a glimmer of hope, the land of the ranch had different plans. Her booted foot slipped on the slick, wet surface, the ground giving way beneath her unexpectedly. Panic surged through her as she teetered precariously, struggling to regain her footing.
But it was too late.
With a cry of alarm, Lena lost her battle with gravity. Her hands, once gripping the cow's horns, flailed wildly as she plummeted backward, her body descending in an undignified tumble. Time seemed to slow as she felt herself falling, and then...
Thud.
The sensation was abrupt and unforgiving. Lena landed squarely on her fanny, her previously clean attire now smeared with mud from the fall. The muddiness seeped through her clothes, its cold, wet embrace making her shiver. She lay there for a moment, a mix of embarrassment and discomfort coursing through her, as the earthy aroma of the mud filled her senses.
It was a humbling experience, lying there in the mud, defeated by both cow and terrain. But Lena couldn't help but find a certain humor in the situation, even as she wiped a muddy hand across her forehead and sighed. She knew that, in the end, the ranch had a way of teaching her lessons in the most unexpected—and down-to-earth–ways possible.
Lena growled in disbelief. “Now, you move,” she snarled. Fisting her hands, she slapped the ground. Mud sprayed, pelting her cheek and neck. Lena clenched her teeth with enough force that her jaw ached.
Deep laughter belted out behind her. Lena glanced over her shoulder to find Doctor Herman Randall standing in the yard, his head tipped back as a boisterous laugh crested from his throat.
A hot wave of annoyance blasted through her veins. Lena pushed to her feet, slipping a few times in the mud, but ultimately kept her balance. She stalked out of the muddy pasture, and into the courtyard, her hands alight on her hips. Someone had been watching the whole, embarrassing ordeal, and that infuriated her.
“What do you think you are you doing here?” She demanded, her tone frigid.
Doctor Randall’s laughter died down, reduced to a few chuckles. He swiped at a tear from his eye, and replied, “I am here visiting your grandmother. I come here to see her usually twice a week. She’s my favorite patient, although I’ll trust you’ll keep that quiet. I’m not supposed to have favorites, you see.”
Shock sank hold of Lena, but she refused to show it.
He visits my grandmother that often?
Lena cocked her head, narrowing an eye. “Does my grandmother require medical visits that frequently? Is there something more about her condition that I should know?”
Herman rubbed at his cleft chin, turning his gaze skyward in thought. “Hmm, not necessarily,” he admitted, rubbing at the nape of his neck.
Lena scowled. “But these visits are costing money, yes?” She jabbed a finger at him. “Are you stealing from her? Taking advantage of an elderly woman’s limited finances?”
I bet he is stealing from my grandmother, by charging her for visits she doesn’t require. Lena felt her blood boil in her veins.
Herman raised up his hands. “Now wait just a minute, there,” he soothed. “Who said anything about stealing from your grandmother?” He scowled down at Lena. “Yes, I charged your grandmother in the beginning for visits, as I do all my patients, and at that time, I did not come by that often. Now that I come more on a social call, I don’t take any money. It would not be right.”
Lena crossed her arms over her chest. “Really? You’re giving her medical care for free?”
She found it mighty hard to believe. And what did he mean by ‘a social call’?
Herman mirrored her actions, folding his arms corded with tendons and muscles. “Yes,” he replied, his tone clipped. He shot her a dark glare. “You honestly think I’d cheat your grandmother, an elderly woman, out of her hard-earned money? What kind of man do you take me for?”
Lena pursed her lips. She allowed her gaze to slide down his body. She chose to ignore the solid chest, broad shoulders, and muscled thighs. She would pretend that her heart did not pick up its pace and pound against her ribcage at the mere sight of him. “I don’t know what to think,” she admitted finally.
In more ways than one…
Herman let his head fall and placed his hands atop his narrowed hips. He gave a low mirthless chuckle that had Lena’s hackles raising.
“What?” she demanded.
Herman shook his head, his dark strands falling over his brow before he raised his head and glanced to the side. “Nothing.”
Herman then glanced around the yard, his brows furrowed in confusion as if searching for something. “Why are you out here wrestling cows, anyway? Where are all the ranch hands who are supposed to be doing the dirty tasks?”
“Well first, let’s get one thing straight: I was not wrestling cows.”
Herman shot her a disbelieving glance, one eyebrow arched.
Lena slapped her hands against her sides. “Okay, one cow. But we were having more of a negotiation instead of coming to blows,” Lena countered.
“Not from where I was standing,” said Herman, a smirk tugging the corner of his lips. “If that was your idea of a negotiation, then I think you might need to pick a different law school before you go into practice.”
Lena bared her teeth at him and growled in frustration.
Herman pointedly ignored her. He cast another glance around the ranch. “Still doesn’t explain where in God’s name your ranch hands are.”
Lena’s shoulders slumped. She licked her lips, her stomach twisting as the words poured forth from her mouth. “They left for better wages.” Bile burned the back of Lena’s throat at the confession. It was embarrassing enough to disclose that Lena was all her grandmother had to tend to the property, without voicing it to the arrogant doctor.
Herman’s gaze snapped back to Lena, and his mouth slackened. After several heartbeats, his eyes softened a touch. Lena’s cheeks scorched at the pitying look in his eyes. It only fueled her anger.
“Well,” she snapped. “Are you going to just stand there and gawk or are you going to help me?”
Herman blinked. “Help you?”
Lena huffed. “With the chores,” she explained.
Herman’s brows rose beneath his hairline. It almost looked like he was making a move to take her on the offer, but then, widening his stance, he gave a shake of his head.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, actually” he said. His features hardened. “The last thing I would want is for you to think I was telling you how to do your job.”
Lena stiffened. She caught his inference as plain as day. He was miffed that she had called him out on his profession yesterday in his office. Turning from her, Herman approached his horse waiting patiently at the porch.
Swinging onto the gelding’s back, Herman gently nudged his heels into the horse’s side and sent him into a flat walk.
Is he really going to ride away and leave me here to deal with this mess myself? Lena thought in disbelief.
No gentleman would be that callous, that unfeeling to not help a lady in need. But Lena quickly realized she was dealing with no gentleman, but a scoundrel.
Herman pulled his horse to stop before Lena. Staring his nose down at her, he said, “I guess I will leave you to your chores.” And with that he spurred his horse into a gallop and took off down the prairie, sending a cloud of dust in his wake that billowed into Lena.
Coughing, she fanned away at the dust, tasting the grit in her mouth. Anger raged in her gut, and it was a violent thing—like a child viper nestling low in her belly in preparation to strike.
Lena promised herself that when she laid eyes on that doctor again, he would rue the day he moved to Fort Scott.
Chapter Six
