Love's Healing Path (Wagon Train Matches #6)

Chapter One

Maddie Fairfax exited Mrs. Barrigan’s tent without looking where she was going. Head bent, one hand rifled through the wicker basket she held.

She sensed someone hovering nearby, a little behind her and a few feet from the Barrigans’ tent. That wasn’t unusual. Since the first week she and her sisters had begun traveling with this Oregon-bound wagon train, folks had sought her out when they needed help.

She wasn’t anything special. Not a nurse, not officially. But she’d learned about herbs and home remedies from a dear neighbor, Mrs. Murphy, when growing up in Dublin. When her father had been sleeping off the drink, when her older sister, Stella, had gone to work in the factory, Maddie and Lily had needed someone to watch over them. Maddie had needed someone to nurture her love of learning. Keep her from drowning in loneliness.

Mrs. Murphy had done that for her.

She was still rifling through the basket—where was that yarrow?—but she heard the crunch of footsteps on the dry prairie grass behind her.

“Excuse me.”

She stopped, surprised at the cultured male voice. Her fingers closed around the sprig of yarrow as he stepped closer to her elbow. "I've been hoping to meet you," he said. "I understand you've?—"

Her bonnet slipped back slightly as she glanced up. And up. My, he was tall. Piercing brown eyes studied her. She recognized him immediately—the man who’d accompanied Owen Mason and his wife, Rachel, when they’d returned to the wagon train days ago.

A doctor, she’d overheard during a late meal one evening.

He was striking, with a patrician nose and strong jawline with only a hint of stubble. Dark hair peeked from beneath his hat.

His eyes took her in just as she was doing with him. His nostrils flared wide and his lips firmed in disdain.

She knew that look. Seán had worn the very same one on the night he’d told her he ‘hadn’t ever loved her. Not really’. He’d broken her heart.

She couldn’t help the minute narrowing of her eyes. What right did this man have to look at her so? To dismiss her before she’d even spoken to him?

He cleared his throat, expression shuttering. "I'm Dr. Jason Goodwin. Folks call me Doc. I thought it was time we met."

Jason.

For a moment, time grew sluggish. Or maybe that was the beat of her heart in her ears.

She smiled tightly. "Maddie Fairfax."

She stuck out her hand, offering a polite handshake even though he still looked as if she were a bug that had landed in his supper.

It took a beat too long for him to reach out and take her hand, a flush high on his cheeks. He barely touched her before he dropped her hand like a burning coal.

She didn’t understand this instant dislike. She had a very good bedside manner. It made her bristle.

He jerked his thumb toward the tent she'd vacated moments ago. "Perhaps I should examine the patient."

"Why?" she asked warily.

"I've heard good reports about how helpful you've been to the company thus far..."

She didn't smile. Simply waited.

"But I'm a doctor by profession."

Surely he didn’t mean the words to offend.

Her eyes cut to the tent and back to his tight-lipped expression. She could give him the benefit of the doubt, couldn’t she? She shuffled closer so that she could lower her voice. This wagon train was full of gossips. No need to give them any fodder.

"Mrs. Barrigan asked for me. As you said, I've formed a rapport with the travelers in this company. They know me."

She hadn’t meant to deliver the last so that the words sounded like a challenge, but as his shoulders grew more tense under his dark suit coat, she allowed her chin to jut up.

His eyes flashed. "And where did you gain your medical degree?" Now his words threw a gauntlet. "A woman's college? Apprenticing with a professional doctor?"

Uncertainty slithered through her. A voice from the past, one that sounded like Seán’s, whispering, you’re a child. You don’t understand how the world works.

"Ah. You don't have one." His superior tone irritated like a burr rubbing against bare skin. "I'm sure you mean well, Miss, but I've seen firsthand how home remedies and old wives tales can do more harm than good. The trail itself is dangerous enough."

So this was it.

The source of his disdain. He thought she was beneath him because he had a medical degree—and likely years of experience, based on the brushes of silver at his temples.

But wasn’t there value in what both of them could provide? She opened her mouth to ask whether they couldn’t work together, both helping the travelers, when he spoke over her.

"Mrs. Mason almost died from an infection," he informed her in a know-it-all tone. "She would've died had it not been for my medicine." He patted the black bag in his left hand as if it were a chest full of gold, not medical supplies.

Mrs. Mason’s husband, Owen, was tangentially related to Maddie’s brother-in-law, Stella’s husband, Collin. Owen was Leo’s half brother, Leo was Collin’s half brother. The Spencer and Mason families were tight-knit because of Stella’s connection. Maddie was often in close proximity to them as well. She’d seen how pale Rachel had been when she and Owen had returned to camp. Had witnessed how quickly her energy flagged even now. Part of that could be attributed to being the mother of a newborn, but Maddie had also heard from her friend Alice Spencer about how near a thing it’d been, Rachel almost dying from infection.

Before she could say anything else, a young voice rang out.

"Miss Maddie, Miss Maddie!"

Happy for the interruption, Maddie moved toward Alex Miller, who was running toward her. Alex was all of ten years old and related to one of her former patients—sort of. She would be happy to leave this conversation with the doctor behind.

Unfortunately, Jason was right on her heels as Alex reached them. The boy bent over, hands on his knees, as he tried to catch his breath.

Maddie knelt at his side, one hand going to his shoulder. "What's the matter?"

"Tommy's stitches came loose."

Tears streamed down the boy’s cheeks as the words tumbled out. He wiped his face with one grubby hand, smearing dirt through the moisture.

Maddie had stitched up a small cut on the dog’s leg just yesterday. She’d cautioned Alex and his brother Paul to keep the dog barricaded inside their wagon or tied up so his movement would be restricted—but the small brown dog was incredibly energetic, and she wasn’t surprised he’d torn open the stitches already.

She started to comfort Alex when Jason interrupted her again.

"Where is this patient?" Doc demanded.

The boy sniffled and glanced from Maddie to Jason.

Jason kept his eyes averted from her. It had been on the tip of her tongue to tell him that this patient was a dog—except his disdain rolled over her again like a wave. He seemed to think the situation dire—did she really need to correct him? Perhaps she could let this play out…

No. Her concern for the boy and his emotions had her putting her hand on his shoulder. “It's all right, Alex.”

"He's in our wagon." Alex pointed across the clearing. "Miss Maddie, ya gotta stitch him back up."

Of course she would.

Jason bent to speak to the boy. "I think it would be prudent if I went with you and put in the stitches."

Alex looked tearfully up at him, suspicion evident. "Who're you?"

"This is Doc," Maddie said gently. "He's got a fancy medical degree from back East."

He bristled. Had he heard the slight condescension that had leaked into her tone?

The doctor’s smile turned into a grimace. "I've performed countless surgeries and assisted in many more. I'm certain I can put in stitches that will stay closed for your patient." Spoken as if Maddie’s stitches had been inferior.

Her lips wanted to twitch. Perhaps he wouldn’t argue quite so hard if he knew the patient was a canine. She straightened and motioned Doc across the clearing. "By all means."

The boy looked between them, though his eyes had taken on a new shine. "You're a real doctor?"

"I am,” Jason confirmed.

"C'mon!"

Alex left at a jog. Jason followed. Maddie trailed behind both of them.

"I'm certain I won't need assistance,” he called out over his shoulder, not even deigning to look her direction.

But she trailed the pair anyway. If Jason became angry at being deceived, she didn’t want that to boil over onto Alex. And someone would need to stitch up the dog. If Jason refused, she’d happily do the task.

Alex climbed into the wagon. "You better wait there, Doc. Ma doesn't like anyone tracking mud in our wagon."

Jason started to protest, but Maddie stayed him with a hand on his forearm.

He jerked away from her. "If you please."

She felt the punch of hurt before she blanked her expression. She’d reached out without thinking. What possessed her to stop him in that way?

But surely he didn’t have to react like that.

The doctor set his bag on the ground and opened it, ignoring her completely.

What she’d thought was simple contempt for her lack of education must be more. Perhaps there was something about her that had rubbed him the wrong way. It didn’t matter. Shouldn’t.

But that didn’t stop the misty haze from slipping over her eyes. She blinked it away, firming her lips into a line.

She’d make sure Alex and Tommy were taken care of, and then stay out of the doctor’s way. With such a big company, surely she wouldn’t have to speak to him again.

Alex edged out of the wagon and dropped to the ground with a small brown dog in his arms and sidled up to the man.

"This is Tommy. He don't like strangers much."

The little dog growled at Doc, baring its teeth.

"This.” Jason went stiff, his voice quiet. “Is Tommy?”

Maddie remained silent as Alex waited with a hopeful look on his face. He held the dog securely and presented one front paw. A gash stood out on the dog's forearm. Just yesterday, she’d shaved the fur away from the cut. Her neat row of stitches was visible, at least where they hadn't been torn out by doggy teeth.

Silent anger emanated from the man, and she was suddenly afraid he would lash out at Alex.

"Would you like me to take over for you?" Maddie asked. "I'm sure such a prestigious doctor such as yourself has more important tasks to look after."

There was a definite hesitation before Jason shook his head. "I'll be happy to stitch him up."

Fine.

She waited only a moment to ensure he would take good care of Alex and the pup before she slipped away.

If she never had to speak to Doctor Jason Goodwin again, that would be too soon.

"Miss Maddie says Tommy is the best dog she's ever met." The boy, Alex, spoke as Doc slipped the first stitch into the dog's leg.

Although Alex held the dog's head against his shoulders with one arm, Doc eyed those canine teeth warily. They were only a few inches away from his fingers.

Maddie Fairfax had done a decent job shaving the one-inch cut, and her sutures were neat and tidy.

Maddie Fairfax had been a complete surprise. He’d meant to meet the camp nurse that everyone praised so heartily, make a connection so they could perhaps work together. He hadn’t been prepared to come face to face with her beauty, for the bolt of attraction that had caught him unawares and turned him inside out.

He hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since Elizabeth had passed. Hadn’t been tempted in the slightest.

When Maddie’d spoken with the gentle Irish lilt to her words, it hit him like a blow to the kidney. The spray of freckles across her pert nose, the intelligence in her blue eyes framed with sooty lashes that could tease or flirt. Beneath the bonnet, hair the color of fire. Strands had come loose somewhere along the way and framed a graceful jaw.

Her youth had come as another blow. Hearing folks talk, he’d expected to meet an experienced nurse, someone in her thirties or even older. Maddie looked to be eighteen or nineteen at most.

"D'you like dogs?" Alex asked, his curious voice breaking Doc from his distracted thoughts.

Doc shrugged.

Please can we have a puppy? Papa, please! The voice from the past—Hildy's voice when she’d been only six years old—echoed inside him, the split-second of memory threatening to overpower him with pain.

Men’s voices from nearby offered a welcome distraction.

Doc cleared his throat. He put in another stitch even as he widened his awareness to a bigger circle than this untidy campsite.

Something was going on. He caught sight of Owen Mason on horseback outside of the circle of white-covered wagons. Owen seemed to be having a word with two other men on horseback, his expression a fierce frown.

Doc had only known Owen for a matter of weeks, but he was well aware of the other man's brand of stubbornness. They'd met when Owen and his wife Rachel had been seeking to join an Eastbound wagon train. The very company Doc had joined with earlier in the spring. When Owen had gotten into an altercation with one of the wagon masters, he and Rachel had been ejected from the company. Wary of the wagon master’s temper, Doc had set out with the pair.

Thank heaven he had. For Rachel had grown sick from an infection after the birth of her infant daughter. Owen didn’t sleep for three days, building a shelter, toting water, praying over her. Willing her to live.

"Miss Maddie says he's the best dog ever," Alex said. The boy almost buzzed with energy, even as he stood holding the dog.

Miss Maddie. She'd only just gone, but Doc was still reeling with awareness of her presence. He burned with shame. Not only was he far too old to be noticing—he must be at least fifteen years her senior—but his heart still belonged to his wife. It didn't matter that she was gone?—

Deceased.

His mouth turned down in a grim frown as his thoughts focused. He couldn't let himself twist the words.

Face the truth. Elizabeth was deceased.

But he was still her husband. And it wasn't right, the bolt of instant attraction he'd felt for Maddie.

As far as he was concerned, the less he saw of her, the better.

Another stitch finished. Only a few more to go.

Another boy—twelve or thirteen, he guessed—appeared from around the wagon. "Yeah, but Miss Maddie says yer supposed to take a bath every week and wash behind yer ears, and you don't do that."

He tossed the words over his shoulder with a smug brotherly grin and headed off somewhere else among the camp.

Alex's mouth twisted into a grimace. "Ya got any brothers, Doc?"

"No." Doc kept his focus on the animal's paw. The dog squirmed in Alex's hold now. "Can you hold him tighter?"

"I dunno." Alex readjusted the dog in his arms. "He's rumblin' an’ growlin’ at me. C'mon Tommy."

There.

The last stitch. Doc quickly tied off the catgut and grabbed some disinfectant from his medical bag.

"Good boy," he said stiffly as the dog wriggled in Alex’s arms.

Alex started to put the dog on the ground, but the animal leapt away, landing on its feet.

"You'll want to keep him from being too active—don't let him run around so much," Doc cautioned.

That seemed a lost cause, as the dog was already bounding through the nearby field, chasing a butterfly.

Alex stood with hands in his pockets and a lift of his chin that reminded Doc of another little boy. Alex squinted slightly. "I ain't go no money to pay ya."

Doc shook his head. "It's all right."

Alex brightened. "I knew you was a kindred spirit. Ya like dogs, doncha?"

Hildy had loved dogs. Cats. Birds. Lizards. Animals of all kinds. He could vividly remember the way his daughter’s eyes had pleaded when she'd asked for a puppy of her own.

And then the memory-image of his daughter changed to darkness and a thunderous noise. Her screams echoed in his ears.

"Doc," Alex prodded.

The boy's voice had shaken him out of the nightmarish memories, but there was no escaping them. Not when they lived inside him.

He stiffened. "Goodbye Alex."

The boy's face fell, but Doc snapped his medical bag closed and turned on his heel. He strode away, needing to run. His chest locked up, breaths sawing in and out of his lungs.

"Doc, you hungry for lunch?" Rachel's friendly call hailed him, but Doc barely spared her a wave.

He strode out of the circle of wagons, away from camp, as far as his feet would carry him.

Maybe he'd keep on walking. Forever. Just disappear into the land.

Like his family had.

But in only a quarter of a mile he slowed to a stop.

There were a lot of folks on this wagon train heading to Oregon. Close to two hundred souls. These folks needed someone with medical expertise to help them—not someone with patchwork knowledge and a handful of herbs, like the young Maddie Fairfax.

He still didn't know why he'd been spared on that fateful night. What did God want from him? But one thing he did know. He couldn't walk off into the sunset. Couldn't give up, couldn't stride out into the wilderness and die.

No matter how badly he wanted to.

Lily Fairfax heard the jaunty whistle as she dragged the large pile of canvas that made up the tent she shared with her sister Maddie from the wagon to a bare patch of ground nearby. The playful tune was familiar, and she couldn't help glancing over at the group of hired hands gathered around their campfire just outside the circle of wagons.

Harry Ransome was building the fire while holding an animated conversation with another man lounging against a saddle nearby. A third man was picketing his horse.

Lily quickly ducked her head, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Or maybe she did, because her fingers fumbled and lost their hold on the canvas and the unwieldy bundle fell to the ground with a loud thump.

Bootsteps hurried in her direction as she knelt to gather the tent back up, but it had unfolded too much.

"Need some help?"

She'd had a smile ready, but it slipped when she looked up to see the cowboy who'd been settling his horse. Not Harry.

"Oh. Um. Thank you."

He smiled broadly, a flash of white teeth against his tanned skin. Reached for one corner of the canvas, opposite her, and began to unfold it. "I'm Luther. Most ever'body calls me Lucky."

"Lily."

"That's a pretty name."

She fumbled the corner of canvas she'd been trying to straighten and had to bend to fix it. And was a little glad of the chance to hide her face.

That's a pretty name. They were the same words Harry had said a handful of weeks ago when he'd introduced himself on a lengthy walk back from the creek where Lily had been tasked with washing laundry.

He'd smiled at her, too, eyes sparkling beneath the brim of his hat as he'd offered to carry her laundry basket full of wet, heavy clothing.

That had been the first of numerous days they'd bumped into each other. She'd grown to count on his smiles to break through the drudgery of this never-ending journey. Harry made her laugh. He made her heart flip inside her when he looked at her in that way that only he could. They'd grown close.

She'd waited each day for the handful of minutes—sometimes more—they would be together. Until two weeks ago, when he hadn't come to her at all.

Lucky asked a few questions about placement of the support pole inside the tent as they worked together to set it up. But Lily was mostly aware of Harry at his campfire, so close he could probably hear every word she and Lucky said.

She'd prayed for this very thing for days. For the wagon that belonged to the three Fairfax sisters to be parked near Leo Spencer's when the wagons circled up for the night. There were two hundred travelers in their company. Leo was one of the captains. And he was the man who'd hired on several cowboys to help him bring his herd of cattle to Oregon. At night, the cowboys who weren't on watch bedded down near the Spencer wagon.

It should be Harry helping with her tent. She'd spent a frantic few moments with her head and shoulders ducked inside the wagon to tame the wisps of hair that always seemed to curl around her face. To pinch some color into her cheeks.

But Harry hadn't even left his campfire. And she didn't know whether she had the courage to walk across the expanse of grass—with the other cowboys watching—and speak to him.

Once the tent seemed sturdy enough, she thanked Lucky for his help. The young man walked back to join the cowboys, and she heard the cadence of voices ring out as if they were ribbing him.

And at that moment, Harry glanced up. Their gazes met and held. The flickering campfire gilded his skin gold and turned the tips of his hair a burnished copper.

He averted his face without smiling.

Her stomach tumbled. She turned away from the tent and walked to the wagon on wobbly legs while her stomach churned. It had been doing that a lot lately. Every time she remembered his tender words, whispered into her hair. Remembered his kisses.

And then his silence.

She dragged her bedroll out of the wagon and had no choice but to cross the campsite and put it in the tent. The sunset cast vivid colors across the sky. It was beautiful—or it should have been. She was too heartsick to enjoy it. She wanted nothing more than to curl up inside her tent and hide. But Stella and Collin and Maddie would be expecting to find supper cooking over the fire.

She took the few steps toward the tent. Suddenly Harry was there, his boots hesitating at the edge of her campsite.

Her heart flew into her throat as she pretended casualness.

"Hullo, Lily."

"Hello." It wasn't the smile she'd meant for him earlier, but she gave it anyway.

He didn't smile back. She couldn't understand what had changed between them. Had she done something wrong?

"Why haven't you been around?" She wanted to call the words back as soon as they escaped. She hadn't meant for the first thing she said to sound so accusing.

His eyes flashed before he looked at the ground. "Been busy. The cattle. And all."

And all.

What did that mean?

The words were there, on the tip of her tongue, to ask him whether he'd meant any of the lovely sentiments he'd shared. If someone else had caught his fancy. If he regretted the kisses they'd shared. And everything else.

But as the silence grew longer and more awkward between them, everything bottled up inside her.

As she moved toward the tent, she loosened her hold on the bedroll. It shifted in her arms. The circlet of flowers she'd kept hidden away inside it tumbled to the ground.

For a fractured moment, she registered him staring at the daisy chain before she bent and scooped it up, face flaming.

Never seen such talent, he'd teased her as she'd woven the chain of blooms the last time they'd been together. It was a girlish trick, something to keep her hands busy as they'd talked long into the night, sitting on a picnic blanket under the stars well after the campfires in the company had winked out. She'd wanted something to keep her hands busy because she'd ached to reach for him. To feel his arms around her, to experience his kiss.

She'd gotten her wish that night.

Weeks of silence had followed.

And now he'd seen that she'd kept the flowers as a memento. He must realize she was still pining over him.

"Excuse me," she mumbled, making quickly for the tent so she could hide her humiliation.

"Lily—" His voice stopped her in her tracks, but another voice called out, too.

"Do you need help with supper?" Stella said from behind the canvas-covered wagon.

By the time Lily looked up, Harry was striding into the dusk to where the horses were tethered.