Finding Love (New Love Western Romance Book 1) Read online

  Excitedly, he informed the correspondent that he would be delighted to have the position, explaining his experience and the fact that he had his own clinic. He assured them his clinic would be well taken care of by the other doctors who worked with him in his absence. The most important piece of information he left them with was that he could start as soon as possible.

  He was surprised the response to his letter arrived only three weeks later, and less than a week after that, he bought a train ticket and had set off.

  Bear Springs was a two-week train ride away, and James was grateful he had thought to bring a great stack of books with him. He engaged with the other passengers, but they came and went. One gentleman said he was familiar with the town, but that it was new and wasn’t much to speak of yet.

  A perpetual nervousness settled upon him as he awaited his arrival. The landscape outside the windows of the train became alien, with the green rolling hills and dense forests that gave way to long stretching plains and golden fields.

  With great anticipation, he arrived at the train station closest to Bear Springs a day ahead of schedule. He hefted his large trunk off of the train, packed full of his belongings and supplies, and stared out into the world.

  It felt good to be off the train. He had never been on one for quite such a long time, and he was elated to have his feet on the firm ground for longer than an hour. He found a carriage to take him out to Bear Springs.

  “Haven’t had a soul wishing to get out to that little town in almost a year,” the man behind the ticket counter told him. “Not much there, really. Not even a mine or nothin’.”

  “Apparently they’re in need of a doctor,” James told the man, passing some money through the gap in the window.

  “And you, the city fella, are going to do that for them?”

  “I am, sir,” James replied amiably.

  The man behind the counter laughed. “Well, I wish you luck, boy. I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw you back here in a week’s time clamoring to get back east.”

  James was affronted. “Surely it won’t be that much different.”

  “You’ll see,” the man answered simply.

  The carriage ride was hot and dry. The driver had a thick accent and smelled strongly of earth. He insisted on talking the entire way, which James only partially paid attention to.

  The town came into view miles before they reached it. It was nestled in a valley, with red and sandy colored mountainous cliffs in the distance. He was amazed how far he could see, since the land stretched out far from him before arching into the sky.

  “So where are all of the houses?” James asked, peering around the landscape.

  “They are spread out over the valley,” the driver replied brusquely. “Most folks here are ranchers. They only come into town to trade or for services.”

  “So all of these buildings,” he said, indicating the dozen or so buildings on the horizon, “is that the town itself?”

  “Right,” the driver said.

  He was incredibly surprised. He had expected it to be small, but after leaving the city, this seemed … dismal.

  But he was determined to give it a chance.

  The carriage driver let him off with his trunk in front of a large wooden building with a long covered front porch. The air was hot, and the sun was bright overhead. James thanked the man before he turned and headed back toward the train station.

  “Well, I’ll be! You must be our new physician!”

  James looked up, still attempting to drag his heavy trunk across the dirt street.

  A large, burly sort of man with red hair and beard was standing on the porch, hands held out wide, grinning at him. He stepped down onto the street and crossed to James.

  “Good to meet you, lad, good to meet you,” the man said, holding his hand out to James. He stood easily a head taller than him.

  “Uh, hello,” James replied, taking the proffered hand. “Are you Mr. Langston?”

  The man grinned, tipping his great, wide brimmed hat at him. “That I am, lad. Mayor and protector of our charming little haven here. And you are James Connor, yes?”

  “I am,” James said.

  For some reason, it surprised James that a town as small as this one needed a mayor in the first place.

  Mr. Langston bent and hoisted the trunk off of the ground as if it weighed no more than a pillow and walked it up to the porch.

  James, watching in astonishment, followed.

  “Welcome to Bear Springs,” Mr. Langston said, straightening. “You have no idea how grateful we are that you’re here, lad. It’s been too long since we’ve had a proper doctor.”

  “Well, I am glad to be here, too. And thank you,” James said, indicating the trunk.

  “Don’t mention it,” Mr. Langston replied with a wave of his hand. “No heavier than a bale of hay. And those are a part of life as a rancher.” He gestured behind himself. “You must be exhausted after your long trip. Why don’t you come in, wet your whistle, and have something to eat?”

  “That would be wonderful,” James replied.

  The saloon was a pleasant room that smelled strongly of tobacco and ale. It was well lit, with a handsome fire burning in a large cobblestone fireplace along the far wall. A thin, gangly sort of man in a hat very similar to Mr. Langston’s tinkered away on a piano in one corner, and another man with an impressive moustache wearing a crisp white apron stood behind the bar, drying a glass.

  “Marv, this here is James Connor, our new doctor,” Mr. Langston said as the two took seats at the bar.

  “By Jove, we have waited some time for you,” Marv said. “Glad to meet you,” he said, and he and James shook hands.

  James was already impressed by the kind attitudes of everyone in the town.

  “What can I get you?” Marv asked, putting his glass down.

  “Water would be wonderful,” James replied honestly. “I’m amazed how dry the air feels here.”

  “Part of the charm of living out west,” Mr. Langston said. “My Pa is from Pennsylvania. Said that it’s wet and sticky there in the summer. Don’t think I’d like that much. Give me this clear, dry mountain air any day.”

  Marv nodded in agreement.

  After a delicious meal of rabbit stew, freshly baked bread, and a large tankard of fresh spring water, Mr. Langston offered to show James around the little town.

  James, who felt there wasn’t much to see, agreed it was best to allow the mayor to do his job. He was the one who had hired him, after all. It was best to show him the respect he deserved.

  They stepped back out into the blazing sunlight again, and James pulled his thick, woolen overcoat off.

  “You probably won’t need that coat much here, lad,” Mr. Langston said. “Other than at night occasionally. We’ll need to get you some good linen that breathes.”

  “I’d appreciate it,” James replied.

  “So, as you know, this is the saloon,” Mr. Langston said as they stepped into the street. “This is where the social gatherings all take place. Banquets, celebrations, dances. It’s where everyone comes after a long week of working on their ranch to unwind and spend time with good friends.”

  “Sounds lovely,” James replied.

  “And this over here is the general store,” Mr. Langston said, pointing to another small building with a glass front. “Mr. Green is the owner here. He and his wife run it. The stock is very minimal, and they only get a chance to restock when traders come through once a month.

  “Over there is the schoolhouse,” he went on. The single brick building in the town stood in contrast to all of the coppery dust on the ground. “It is also where we hold all of our townhall meetings. Those are the third Thursday of every month. You are strongly encouraged to come.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” James replied honestly.

  “It’s all good fun, really,” Mr. Langston said, grinning again. “We always go back to the saloon afterwards, and Marv makes serves an incredible meal of roasted pig a
nd potatoes.”

  Even though he had just eaten, James thought that sounded delicious.

  “And here,” Mr. Langston said, gesturing to a small building tucked between the school and the saloon, “is your clinic.”

  James took it in. His office in the city was probably larger than the entire clinic was. There were only two windows, and a few boards on the roof were splintered and needed to be repaired.

  “Come on in, let me show you around.”

  Inside was dingy, and the smell of dust and rotting wood was heavy in the air. There was a small, rickety table in one corner and a few chairs scattered about. A single wooden bookshelf stood in one corner with two books stacked inside it.

  “It’s not much,” Mr. Langston said. “But it’s all we could offer you.”

  James smiled in spite of himself. “Not to worry, Mr. Langston. With some cleaning and organization, I can get this place into shape in no time.”

  “Glad to hear you say that,” Mr. Langston replied warmly. “And that back room there has a bed and a washing tub. I’m sure a city boy like yourself is used to much grander furnishings …”

  James stuck his head in the room.

  “It’s cozy. And at least I’ll have a roof over my head.”

  Mr. Langston watched him curiously. “You seem to be taking this all in great stride.”

  James smiled. “I am the one who chose to come out here. Start a new life. And this seems like the perfect place to do just that.”

  Mr. Langston smiled back.

  “Hello?”

  A woman’s voice carried through the small clinic, and James and Mr. Langston stepped out of the living space.

  A beautiful young woman with golden hair flowing down her back stood just inside the door, her bright blue eyes looking at Mr. Langston expectantly.

  “There you are, Father,” she said, stepping across the room toward him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Marv said I’d find you here.”

  Mr. Langston gestured to James. “I’ve just been showing our new doctor his space,” he replied.

  The woman turned her large eyes on James, who felt his heart skip a beat. She smiled at him, taking his breath away.

  “You must be Doctor Connor, then,” she said.

  “I am indeed,” James said, inclining his head to her.

  “This is my daughter, Marigold,” Mr. Langston said. “One of my five daughters.”

  “Five?” James said, startled. “Your home must be very busy.”

  Mr. Langston laughed heartily. “You don’t have the faintest idea.” He turned his attention back to Marigold. “What did you need, darlin’?”

  “One of the donkeys escaped their pen again,” she said, exasperated. “Lynn found him wandering down by the chicken coop after breakfast.”

  “Those donkeys are stubborn as anything,” Mr. Langston said, shaking his head. “All right, I’d better go and take care of this,” he said to James, tipping his hat.

  “Of course,” James said, stepping aside to allow him to pass in the small room.

  “It was lovely to meet you!” Marigold called over her shoulder as she stepped back outside.

  “You need anything else, just ask Marv,” Mr. Langston said. “Our ranch is on the outskirts of town, and I check in every day, but if it’s an emergency, Marv’ll be the one to help you.”

  “Duly noted,” James replied. “And it was lovely to meet you as well, Marigold.”

  And then they were gone.

  James collapsed into one of the small, rickety chairs and sighed heavily, a swirl of dust rising around him. His head was buzzing as if full of angry bees. The room was stiflingly hot, and his cheeks were burning.

  Though whether that was from the heat or the beauty of Miss Marigold, he couldn’t be sure.

  He shook his head disapprovingly.

  You are here to work, to help. Not to fawn over some girl. Besides, isn’t that why you left New York in the first place?

  Feeling sufficiently self-reprimanded, he got to his feet, crossed to the windows, and with some effort was able to throw them open. He breathed deeply, enjoying the slight breeze reaching inside his small cabin.

  “Well, Lord,” James said in the empty room. “Here I am. Use me as You will. I am willing and able.”

  And with that, he set about unpacking his things.

  Chapter 3

  The first few weeks that James served the good folks of Bear Springs passed without major incident. He had unpacked his belongings, his tools, and all of the medicine he had brought with him. Meticulously, he made a list of all of his inventory, ensuring that he would never run out of the most vital of medicines and salves. He also made a note to speak with the traders when they came into town. Medical supplies would probably be far and few in between, but he didn’t mind paying a little extra to have the proper supplies delivered in a timely manner.

  Less than a week after arriving, James had his first case. A young boy, no older than six, arrived with his mother, sniffling and rubbing his nose. His eyes were puffy, but he smiled wide as James examined him and questioned his mother. He sent him along home with a diagnosis of a head cold and instructions to eat hot vegetable soup and get lots of rest.

  A few days later, a man hobbled up to the clinic, grimacing in pain. James helped him across the threshold and had him sit down in one of the splintered chairs. He listened as the man explained about an accident where he stepped onto one of his rakes, and it pierced his boot. When James pulled the boot off, he discovered a rather nasty gash and set about cleaning it and binding it. It wasn’t deep enough to be stitched up, but he did insist that the man stay off of it as much as possible for the next few days. He walked the man outside where his eldest son was waiting. He put his arm around his father’s back, and the two of them limped off into the distance.

  Aside from those two patients, James had been without work. He woke each morning, sat on his porch and read his daily devotional in his Bible, spent some time praying as the sun rose, and then set about cleaning his clinic. He would walk to the saloon around lunch for a hearty meal, and then spend some time with the townsfolk, getting to know them all.

  In the afternoon, he would pull some books from his shelf and read, glancing at the clock occasionally, wondering if he would have any patients. He felt torn; no patients meant the townspeople were healthy and well. That was certainly a good thing. But on the other hand, he had picked up his entire life to come out to a town that had been seeking a physician, believing them to be in need. In those lonely afternoons, he wondered if they truly needed him after all.

  It was a windy Tuesday morning when James realized he could no longer see out of the windows of his clinic. He rummaged around in his cupboard, discovered a bucket, and stepped outside.

  “Good morning, Marv,” James said, swinging the bucket as he walked across the dirt street. “Would you be willing to part with some water? I need to wash my windows.”

  Marv smirked as he puffed on his pipe. “Certainly, doc. Happy to do so.”

  He took the bucket from James, stepped down off the porch, and approached the horse watering trough beside the building. He submerged the bucket in the water, drew it out dripping, and passed it back to James.

  “Thanks …” James said somewhat reluctantly, but he smiled. This town constantly surprised him.

  “I suggest using some lard to keep the dust off,” Marv said. “The wife swears by it.”

  “Good to know,” James said, not relishing the idea of smearing greasy lard over the glass.

  He returned to his clinic and deposited his bucket on the ground below the window. He procured a clean rag, dunked it in the water, and began scrubbing away at the fine red dust that had built up in the corners of his windows and covered the glass in a thin film.

  The dust was stubborn and became more like a wet clay than clearing away, making James frustrated. No matter how much he scrubbed and scrubbed, it wouldn’t get completely clean. It streaked at best.
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  “You know, it’s better to wipe the windows with a dry cloth.”

  James turned and saw Marigold standing there, a wicker basket in her arms filled with root vegetables and bread. She smiled up at him from beneath her large brimmed hat tied beneath her chin with a pretty red ribbon.

  “Miss Marigold,” he said, grinning. “Lovely to see you.”

  She gestured to the window again. “I suggest using some lard to get the rest of that dust off. Once it’s clean, wipe it all off, and then from now on, simply dry dust the windows. Though to be honest, it’s a bit of a losing battle.”

  “I’m seeing this,” James replied. He let the cloth fall into the bucket. “Marv said the same thing to me.”

  Marigold raised a single eyebrow with a smirk on her face. “I see.”

  “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to listen,” James replied, understanding her expression. “But I assumed to get it clean, I’d need the water.”

  “We always learn something new, don’t we, Mr. Connor?”

  “That we do,” he said, brushing his hands off.

  “Doc!”

  James and Marigold turned and saw a man running up the street toward them, his hat in his hands. He was short and stocky, but hard muscles covered his exposed arms, and his skin was tanned from spending his days under the sun.

  “Mr. Morrison,” James replied. “What’s the matter?”

  The man slowed, doubling over, hands on his knees. He panted heavily. “Doc, I need your help. Something is wrong.”

  “What’s wrong?” James asked. He helped Mr. Morrison up the clinic steps. “Here, have a seat. I’ll go get you some water.”

  “No, no, I need to get back to the farm,” he said weakly, refusing to be seated. “It’s Georgie. She’s not doing well.”