A Nurse for Clark Page 6

  Where was Clark? Perhaps she should go find him.

  ~*~

  Norman surveyed the doctor’s house from the livery stable down the road. He’d managed to hide undetected in the loft each night, and had maintained a low profile around town during the day. The opportunity to corner Zoe alone hadn’t presented itself yet—she and that blasted doctor were all but conjoined—and he was tempted to leave another note to lure her out. All she had to do was hand over his portion of the money, but past experience told him that wasn’t likely to happen.

  Frustration mounted as the two of them strolled side by side away from the clinic. Norman followed the pair surreptitiously through the town. Zoe appeared tense and frequently peered over her shoulder, but never once did her gaze land on him. He stalled behind a tall tree when Zoe and the doctor approached a house and rapped on the door. Zoe’s new beau must be protecting her like an old fashioned white knight. How nauseating. Did the good doctor know the whole story? That his fair damsel was nothing more than a thieving wench?

  Norman stroked his chin, a slow grin stretching his thin lips as a plan took shape in his mind. In order to get to his deceiving cousin, he’d have to first be rid of her lover.

  ~*~

  The visit to the Kent house proved every bit as awkward as Zoe had feared. Both Madeline and Mrs. Kent glared at her as though she’d stolen a rare jewel. Zoe new better, and strove to be polite and professional, but the other women’s blatant rudeness grated her nerves. Finally, she could take it no more and excused herself to wait by the front door.

  “Nurse Blye? Could I ask you something?”

  To Zoe’s absolute amazement Madeline followed her from the room. Zoe didn’t smile as the younger woman approached. “If it pertains to Dr. West, the answer is—no, we are not courting.”

  Madeline’s blue eyes narrowed sharply on her, assessing the truth in her words. “As a matter of fact, my question has nothing to do with Dr. West.”

  “Very well.” Zoe folded her hands in front of her and waited expectantly.

  “How does one enroll to the Harrow School of Nursing?”

  Genuine surprise struck Zoe. “Are you interested in attending?”

  “I think I am. I always believed the only chance of getting out of my parents’ house was to find a husband.” She made a face. “Have you seen the men in Fort Benton? None I’d consider marrying except Dr. West. The situation seemed hopeless until you came along, a woman of education and a trained nurse.”

  Zoe nodded. “I understand. If you’re truly interested I can help you contact the school. It’s a great deal of hard work and studying. You will be required to see, do, and smell things you’d normally run away from. I suggest you think hard about if you’re prepared to undertake the commitment.”

  Madeline gave her a haughty look. “If a southern belle from a Mississippi plantation house can do it, I have no doubt I’m up for the task.”

  Zoe’s ire piqued. “Listen here, Madeline, you no idea what you’re talking about. The charmed life you perceive I came from hasn’t existed for a very long time. I lost everything in the war. My family, my home, everything I ever held dear.”

  The younger woman maintained her stony expression.

  “You have a lot of nerve asking me for a favor after your boorish behavior toward me.”

  Madeline’s eyes flashed. “You owe it to me.”

  Zoe threw her arms up, exasperated. “What could I possibly owe you?”

  “You could have gone anywhere. Anywhere at all! But instead you showed up in Fort Benton and turned the head of every man in town town with your pretty southern drawl and perfect manners. Now I have no chance with Dr. West at all.”

  “You never had a chance,” Zoe snapped. “You’re a silly girl half his age.” She would have continued but at that moment Clark rounded the corner with his medical bag in hand.

  “What are you ladies talking about?

  “Nothing,” Madeline said in her syrupy tone. “Nothing at all.”

  “Miss Kent would like to attend the Harrow School of Nursing,” Zoe blurted in a voice loud enough for Madeline’s mother to hear.

  Madeline shot her an ugly glare.

  Clark raised a skeptical brow. “Really.” He glanced between them, clearly wondering what more had transpired. “Well,” he said awkwardly, “good luck with that.” He turned to Zoe. “Are you ready? We have we more house calls to make.”

  Zoe was only too happy to leave the Kent house. Madeline had a great deal of growing up to do if she truly desired to become a nurse. Maybe Clark was right and her interest in him had far more to do with boredom than genuine affection. In any case, if Madeline went back East she would be out of Zoe’s hair.

  “Would you like to divide up the last two house calls?” Clark asked, interrupting her thoughts. “I can visit the Roberts and you can check in on Widow Foster.”

  Zoe shivered throwing a panicked glance around her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Norman could be watching.”

  Clark drew a hesitant breath. “Zoe, it’s broad daylight, and you’ll be in town, I’m certain he wouldn’t try anything with so many people around.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t know him like I do.”

  “If you aren’t comfortable we’ll go together, but…” He glanced down nervously. “I thought maybe we could go to the harvest festival if we finished early.”

  Excitement fluttered in her belly. “Dr. West, are you inviting me to the festival?”

  He shuffled uncomfortably, and cleared his throat. “Well, it’s not like that, you’ve just worked so hard on those decorations with Mrs. Carter.”

  Zoe pursed her lips to suppress a full out grin at his boyish nervousness. “You’re right,” she said, backing away from him. “I have worked hard. We should go to the festival tonight. According to Mrs. Carter, there will be no shortage of men clamoring to dance with me.” She couldn’t resist tormenting him just as little. Served him right since he wouldn’t come right out and ask her himself.

  His face reddened with frustration. “Just save one for me,” he grumbled.

  She winked at him. “You go see Clayton Roberts, and I’ll take care of Mrs. Foster. She cut across the street, skipping the last few steps, spirits lifting with the prospect of some fun. With the constant threat of Norman hanging over her head, she needed a distraction, and Clark was right, if Norman hadn’t attempted to approach her yet, he probably wouldn’t do so in the middle of town.

  She dodged down an alley to take a shortcut, hoping to get Mrs. Foster’s dressing change done as quickly as possible so she could go back to the house and get ready. She hadn’t dressed up in years and couldn’t wait to put on her nice dress and fix her hair.

  “Don’t move or I’ll put a bullet in your back,” the sinister command sucked the light from her thoughts.

  Norman.

  Dread all but paralyzed Zoe as she froze in place. Just as she’d feared, he’d been lying in wait for the first opportunity to catch her alone.

  “Hello, Zoe. You can turn around now.”

  Her blood ran cold as she shuffled slowly to face him. He looked a fright with dirt laden clothes hanging from a surprisingly gaunt frame. His tawny overgrown hair hung in stringy clumps beneath his battered hat and the length of his gristly beard indicated he hadn’t shaved in months. She wouldn’t recognize him if not for his voice and the all too familiar blue eyes glowering down at her. Norman clutched a silver revolver in his outstretched right hand. The barrel trained on her no more than ten feet away.

  “Scream and I’ll shoot.”

  She simply nodded. She believed him.

  “I want my money,” he snarled, taking two slow steps toward her.

  Zoe swallowed tremulously, fighting for calm, her mind racing. “Norman, there is no money. I told you—”

  “You’re lying,” he growled, hysteria igniting in his eyes. “You sold the plantation. Half of those profits are mine!”

  “I didn�
�t sell it,” she insisted. “The property was mortgaged to the hilt and repossessed by the lenders. I got nothing for it.”

  Norman trembled with fury, the weapon shaking in his hand. “Give me what’s mine or I’ll kill you!”

  Desperately she glanced around, wondering if she had any chance to outrun him. “I can’t give you what I don’t have.”

  Her cousin’s face reddened with frenzied rage and he released an inhuman scream. He stomped forward, arm tensed, finger on the trigger.

  This is it. He’s going to kill me.

  Instinct kicked in and Zoe hunched and turned to run. Just as she did, she glimpsed Clark barreling around the corner. His hat flying off his head behind him as he dove to tackle Norman into the dirt.

  Crack!

  The muzzle flashed and pure fire tore through Zoe’s left chest and shoulder. The force of the shot threw her backward. She struggled to draw breath. “Clark?” she choked. She struggled to sit upright but she was so dizzy. White lights flashed before her eyes, and dense black flickered around the periphery of her vision. Her head spun and she collapsed fully backward onto the ground. Clark! She needed to see him… tell him that this wasn’t his fault before it was too late. His soul was so riddled with guilt he’d never forgive himself if she died before she could tell him. She struggled for consciousness, fought against the pain hammering her body, but she just felt so weak…

  Seven

  Clark wrestled the bastard—who must be Zoe’s cousin—to the dirt, pinning the hand clutching the gun over his head. He slammed the hand into the hard packed ground until Norman released it.

  Two other men dashed around the corner. “What’s happened? We heard a shot.” One of them swiftly plucked the weapon from the dirt.

  Norman fought like a caged wolf, kicking, scratching trying to bite him. Being the bigger man, Clark used his full length and body weight to wrangle the madman, and plowed his fist into the other man’s jaw until he finally relented.

  “What the hell is going on here?” The man who’d lifted the gun said.

  More townspeople rushed into the street behind the barn.

  Clark held Norman by the collar. “He tried to kill Nurse Blye.”

  “Hey, Doc,” the second man to arrive alerted him, alarm in his voice, “this woman’s been shot.

  No. Horror chilled Clark to the core as his gaze snapped to Zoe lying in the street. He clamored off of Norman and staggered toward her. “Zoe!” Blood coated the front of her gown. “No!” He ran to her side and stumbled to his knees beside her. “Zoe, please, no.” He quickly yanked her up in his arms.

  She didn’t move.

  “Zoe, wake up,” he commanded, giving her a shake.

  Her head lulled lifelessly back, her lips ghastly pale.

  “This is all my fault.” Anguish threatened to swamp him as he fought for calm and control. He should never have sent her alone. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked a deep breath into his lungs. Supporting her neck with his hand, he placed his cheek close to her nose and mouth and was elated to feel the gentle rush of breath on his face. “She’s breathing.” He looked up at the townspeople gathered around them. “You,” he nodded to a woman he recognized as Anne Washington. “Anne, give me your scarf.” The woman quickly complied and Clark quickly fashioned it to apply pressure to Zoe’s wound. “Now, I need you to fetch Madeline Kent. Tell her that it’s an emergency and Dr. West requires her assistance at the clinic.”

  Anne nodded gravely. “Right away, Doctor.” She hurried off.

  He looked back to Norman who sat in the dirt, blood dripping from his nose, surrounded by angry townspeople. “Take him to the sheriff.”

  There was no time to waste. He hefted Zoe up in his arms and stood. “He looked down at a boy of perhaps twelve. “Would you fetch my medical bag from the ground over there and follow me to the clinic?”

  “Put her in my wagon, Doc,” another man, whose name he couldn’t recall offered. “I’ll drive you there.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll get your bag!” The boy scampered off.

  Clark clutched Zoe to his chest and hastened after the man with the wagon.

  The gristly mountain man slapped the flat of his wagon bed. “Get her in here, Doc.”

  Clark Carefully laid Zoe in the wagon bed and climbed in after her. He propped himself against the wooden edge and gathered her back into his arms. He pressed the bloodied scarf to her wound, ensuring steady pressure to stem the bleeding.

  The young boy sprinted over and tossed the medical bag into the wagon. “Is she going to be all right, sir?”

  Clark met the lads gaze. “I don’t know.”

  The cart lurched into motion, and Zoe moaned. “Clark,” she croaked, the word barely audible but music to his ears.

  He held her closer. “I’m here, Zoe. I’ve got you.”

  She didn’t open her eyes or utter another sound. He kept his head bent over her, reassured by the steady rush of her breathing. He needed to get her to his surgery to evaluate the severity of the wound. It was impossible to tell with her clothes in the way and all the blood.

  The cart approached the clinic and jostled to a halt in front. The driver immediately jumped down and rushed to the front door.

  Clark set Zoe on the edge of the wagon and leapt down. Without wasting a moment, he scooped her up and ran into the house. “Mrs. Carter!” he bellowed. “It’s an emergency. I need your help in the surgery.” He didn’t wait for a response and rushed down the hall to his surgery room.

  “What is going on here?” Mrs. Carter called. “Why isn’t Zoe help—”

  “Zoe’s the emergency. She’s been shot.”

  Mrs. Carter gasped. “God, no.” She rushed over as Clark set Zoe onto the exam table. “So much blood,” she mumbled as the color drained from her face.

  “Mrs. Carter, focus,” he ordered. He’d seen her swoon from the sight of blood and broken bones three times in the last year. “I know you don’t do well with this sort of thing, but Zoe needs you.”

  The older woman nodded weakly, tears welling in her eyes. “What do you need?”

  “I sent for someone to assist me, it’s Madeline Kent, once she arrives, you must show her back here. In the mean time boil hot water and bring me plenty of clean linens.

  “Yes, doctor.” Mrs. Carter quickly fled the room.

  Clark immediately set to work. He yanked off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He forced himself to see her as a patient that needed his surgical skills and not the woman he loved. He retrieved a large set of scissors and swiftly cut away the blood soaked scarf and gown, exposing the bleeding wound. He had a stack of clean linens beside the table and immediately began to clean and dab the bloodied flesh to better evaluate the entry wound. The shot appeared to be high in the shoulder.

  “Dr. West,” Mrs. Carter entered the room. “Miss Kent is here.”

  He looked up as Madeline passed through the door, her eyes wide with uncertainty and alarm.

  “Nurse Blye has been shot?”

  “Yes and I need an assistant.” He waved her in. “You said you wanted to be a nurse. This is your first day of training.”

  Madeline hesitated for the barest instant before she nodded gravely. “What do you need me to do.”

  “First we must lift her up and turn her a bit to see if the bullet passed through her shoulder or not.”

  Madeline quickly stepped forward and assisted him with lifting Zoe’s injured shoulder off the table.

  Clark stripped away the wet fabric mopped blood from the back of her shoulder. “I see an exit wound.” A momentary flash of elation passed through him as he laid her back. “The shot was through and through which means we won’t have to remove the bullet. Her trachea is centered in her throat and her breathing is even so I am fairly confident the bullet missed her lung.”

  Madeline said nothing, merely listened as he spoke.

  “I will need to explore the wound to ensure no major blood vessels or stru
ctures are damaged.”

  “What will do do if there is damage to important vessels?”

  “Pray we can ligate them before she bleeds to death.”

  Madeline’s eyes widened with panic, but she did not back away.

  “Madeline, I will do my very best to walk you through everything you’ll need to do. The most important thing I need is to be able to see. You will keep one of these clean linen squares in your hand and use it to dab and soak up blood in the wound.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Good. Do you see that table at the foot of the bed?”

  “Yes?”

  “Those are my surgical instruments. I will describe the tools I need and ask you to hand them to me.” He looked Madeline directly in the eyes. “Are you ready?”

  “I think I’ll have to be.”

  “Excellent, now let’s get to work. Hand me the scalpel.”

  ~*~

  Emotionally drained, Clark collapsed in a wooden chair beside the wall. He stared at his freshly washed hands, unable to banish the sight of Zoe’s blood dripping from them. The events of the last two hours seemed utterly surreal. His chest ached with fear. What would he do without her? With her in his life he’d begun to feel alive again. Because of her forgiveness he’d begun to believe he could be happy in life, find love, and even be loved.

  “Do you think she’ll make it?” Madeline settled heavily in the chair beside him.

  He sagged back in the chair, continuing to contemplate his hands. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly, speaking his greatest fear aloud. “The shot was high. As far as I can tell it passed primarily through the shoulder joint. The shot seems to have missed her lung, the major blood vessels, and her bony structures entirely.” He shook his head. “It’s a true miracle.” He folded his hands in his lap. “We ligated the bleeders that we could get to, but she still lost a lot of blood.” He sighed despairingly. “The other concern is infection.”