The Doctor's Lady Read online

  Why, then, was he having such a hard time ignoring Priscilla White?

  “I always said, it’s too bad she decided not to get married,” the gentleman said. “She’d bring some fortunate fellow a lot of pride and pleasure.”

  Dr. Baldwin stuck his elbow into Eli’s side and cocked a brow.

  Eli shook his head. “Pretty won’t get a woman west.”

  “Ah.” The older gentleman’s eyes lit. “So you’re considering asking Miss White to accompany you?”

  “’Course not—”

  “He can’t go without a wife,” Dr. Baldwin cut in. “And I’ve been trying my best to convince him of the merits of our wonderful Miss White.”

  “She’s simply perfect,” the gentleman added.

  Eli forced a tight smile. “I won’t argue with either of you. She seems like a fine woman. But as I already said, Doctor, she’s not the type I need.”

  He was unable to resist another glance at Priscilla. She was smiling at the Indian boys, tentatively fingering the beads and feathers at the end of John’s braid.

  Eli had to give her some credit. She was the only one who’d made an effort after the service to put aside her fears and show kindness to the boys.

  “Am I to understand you’ll be traveling with another missionary couple?” the older gentleman asked.

  John’s dark eyes radiated excitement. Eli had no doubt Priscilla was the fairest woman the boys had ever seen, and one of the first to attempt to speak with them. Apparently she hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d rattled off her qualifications—from all appearances she was every bit as pious and mission-minded as she claimed.

  Too bad she was like a flower that the least heat or hardship could easily wilt or crush.

  “Eli had a terrible time finding another couple willing to go,” Dr. Baldwin offered. “He located a young minister and his new wife who were planning to start a mission with the Osage in Kansas. It took some arm twisting, but we finally convinced them to change their plans and travel a little further west with Eli.”

  “I can’t imagine too many people would want to risk such a dangerous journey,” the gentleman said.

  Eli tore his gaze away from Priscilla, and the all-too-familiar weight of despair and irritation pressed against his sternum—irritation at the Board for their strict stipulations and frustration at the direness of his situation.

  “I wasn’t planning to take another couple,” he said.

  “Well, it’s probably a relief you won’t have to make the trip alone.”

  Dr. Baldwin raised both brows as if to caution Eli against saying too much. And Eli swallowed his rebuttal—the argument he’d already had with the old doctor and the other Board members several times.

  They believed the mission would have a much greater chance of succeeding if they sent a team.

  But Eli knew better. He’d never relied upon anyone but the good Lord and the sweat of his own brow. In all his thirty-one years, he’d had to overcome one obstacle after another to make something of his life. He’d scraped and slaved to save money for an education. He’d spent hour after long hour studying, pushing himself to keep at it, even though book learning had been nearly impossible for him.

  But he’d done it. Earned his doctor’s license. Made a new life for himself. On his own.

  He didn’t need anyone to help him now or in the future. He was doing just fine.

  “Eli’s a strong, independent man,” Dr. Baldwin said, as if he knew the thoughts running through Eli’s mind. “But I’m sure he’ll be glad for the companionship once he’s there.”

  “Don’t forget, I’ll be meeting up with Parker. He’s planning to help me get the mission started.” His companion from the exploratory trip had stayed west to scout out a site for the mission. Samuel Parker had decided to live with the natives through the winter and meet up with Eli at the annual fur trappers’ Rendezvous in the Green River Valley. From there, Parker would lead the missionaries to their new home.

  “I know Parker won’t stay forever, but I’ll have plenty of companionship with the natives.” The Indians might have a different culture, but they would provide enough friendship to suit him.

  The tinkle of Priscilla’s laughter rose above the other voices and beckoned his attention once again. Richard was holding out a long feather from his braid. She took it and twisted it in her delicate fingers.

  She tilted her head, and at that moment her gaze collided with Eli’s. Her brows lifted in surprise, as if he was the last person she’d expected to catch staring at her.

  Strangely enough, he found himself wishing he could trade places with John and Richard so he could talk with her. She’d likely be much more interesting than the men at his side. She might have a smooth, genteel exterior, but earlier he’d caught a glimpse of spark underneath, and it was a spark he wouldn’t mind firing up again.

  Her gaze flickered away, and the color in her cheeks blossomed.

  Just then her mother grabbed her arm and whispered in her ear. Priscilla shook her head. Mrs. White’s fingers tightened around Priscilla’s puffy sleeve, and her expression hardened.

  “You must obey me,” he heard the woman say. She nodded toward him, and Priscilla hesitated but finally forced herself to look at him. This time her gray blue eyes were large and soft, like those of a kitten. And the innocence and vulnerability in the wide depths twisted his gut into a slipknot.

  “We’ve heard rumors,” the older gentleman said, “about the mountain men not wanting missionaries going west. They’re saying they don’t want any settlers moving there because it could interfere with their trapping. Do you think you’ll be putting yourself and your traveling companions in the middle of a growing conflict?”

  “They’re afraid if we bring women, we’ll slow down their caravan. Can’t say that I blame them.”

  Priscilla nibbled on her bottom lip.

  He couldn’t imagine any woman—much less a woman of Priscilla’s status and beauty—anywhere near the trappers. They were the kind of men who would eat her up and spit her out.

  Her mother nudged her. “Go on.”

  Priscilla stumbled forward and started across the room. Her gaze locked with his, and a shy smile quivered at the corners of her mouth.

  The knot in his gut pulled tighter, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything but her graceful walk toward him.

  “Dr. Ernest.” She stopped before him, and her smile widened.

  “Miss White,” he managed.

  She dipped her head and curtsied.

  Mrs. White followed her daughter. “Dr. Ernest, we’d love to hear more about your noble plans to start the mission in the West.” She pulled at Priscilla’s sleeve, puffing it out. “My lovely daughter has been more excited than any of us to learn all about it.”

  Priscilla’s smile faded into a tight circle, and she narrowed her eyes upon her mother.

  “We were just talking about Miss White,” Dr. Baldwin said too quickly. “And saying what a fine young woman she is.”

  “Wonderful.” Mrs. White’s voice was cheerful. “She is indeed a fine lady. I doubt there are many other missionary candidates as qualified as she.”

  Dr. Baldwin cleared his throat and caught Mrs. White’s attention. The two exchanged a knowing glance.

  Eli stared from one person to the next. What was the old doctor trying to do? Set him up with Priscilla White even though he’d made it clear she was the last woman he’d be interested in marrying?

  Was Priscilla in on the scheme too?

  Her eyes filled halfway with an apology before she focused on the tip of her satin slipper poking out from the folds of gauze and lace.

  “Oh, I see,” he said slowly, a grin working its way to his lips. They were pushing her as much as they were him. In that case, the two of them could have a little fun with her mother and Dr. Baldwin, couldn’t they? “Since Miss White is so eager to learn about my trip . . .”

  She gave the barest shake of her head. “I’m sure what Mo
ther meant to say is that we’d all like to know how we can be praying for you during your travels.”

  “For starters, you can pray the trappers don’t throw rotten eggs at me like they did last time.”

  Mrs. White gasped.

  Priscilla’s eyes rounded.

  Eli’s grin widened. “Don’t worry. They learned to put up with me. Especially after I dug a Blackfoot arrow out of Jim Bridger’s back.”

  Mrs. White’s face paled.

  “If you’re at odds with the trappers, why are you riding with them?” the gentleman asked. “Surely you don’t need them now that you’ve already been once and know the way.”

  “I’d go it alone if I could.” He’d leave by himself in a heartbeat if it were possible. “But there are too many hostile tribes and too many things that could go wrong. The fur trappers might be a rough bunch, but there’s safety in numbers.”

  “Sounds much too dangerous,” the gentleman added. “And you’re planning to place women—a wife—into the middle of the dispute?”

  “I’d prefer not to, but it doesn’t look like I’ve got much choice.”

  “And who exactly are you planning to marry?”

  The gentleman’s question was like salt against an open sore. “That’s still in the works—”

  “As a matter of fact,” Mrs. White said, exchanging another look with Dr. Baldwin, “we’re in the process today of working out the details of the marriage plans between my daughter and Dr. Ernest.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Eli stiffened. They were taking the matchmaking too far now.

  “Marriage isn’t a joking matter. We’re entirely serious.” Mrs. White smiled at him with a warmth he didn’t trust. “When Dr. Baldwin brought up the idea, at first we weren’t sure if it would work.”

  “’Course it won’t—”

  “But the more we thought about it,” the woman continued, “the more we realized what a perfect match this would be, how God has completely orchestrated your meeting at just the right time.”

  Priscilla looked at the floor, and the crease in her smooth forehead gave evidence that she didn’t consider the match nearly as perfect as her mother did.

  “I can see that Miss White is as excited about the prospect as I am.”

  “Very good. Then since you are both excited, we shall proceed with the wedding arrangements.” Mrs. White turned away and clapped her hands. “Quiet, everybody! I have an announcement to make.”

  Eli’s heart struck against his chest with a strange mixture of apprehension and excitement. “There’s no need for an announcement.”

  “Of course there’s a need. We certainly want everyone to share in the good news.” Mrs. White clapped her hands again, this time louder. “Quiet please!”

  He couldn’t believe how quickly the situation had spiraled out of his control. He needed to do something to stop Mrs. White before she made a fool of herself. His mind scrambled to find a suitable response, one that wouldn’t cause him to lose the much-needed support he’d gained from many within the congregation.

  But when Priscilla shifted her focus from her shoe to his face, a flash of longing in her eyes stopped the words of rebuttal on the tip of his tongue.

  Did this woman want to marry him? His heart pattered to a stop.

  She gave him an apologetic smile and then tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “Mother, this has gone too far.”

  But Mrs. White brushed away her hand. “Nonsense. This is exactly what the Lord has ordained.”

  “But, Mother—”

  “Attention everyone!” Mrs. White’s strong voice carried through the meetinghouse. “My daughter, Miss White, and our missionary guest, Dr. Ernest, are getting married.”

  In an instant, Priscilla was surrounded by friends, with everyone talking at the same time. And those around him slapped his back and shook his hand. He couldn’t find the words to formulate any semblance of an explanation that would get him out of the predicament in which he suddenly found himself.

  And Dr. Baldwin had disappeared to the other side of the room, as far away from him as possible.

  Over the heads of well-wishers, Priscilla managed to catch his attention and mouth the words I’m sorry.

  He shrugged and tried to give her a reassuring grin. He wasn’t planning to marry her any more than she was planning to marry him. And once they had room to breathe, he’d make sure he straightened things out.

  “You’ll come to our home for a late supper,” Mrs. White said when the meetinghouse began to empty. “You and Dr. Baldwin both.”

  He wanted to refuse, but Dr. Baldwin, along with John and Richard, had already started ambling down the street in the direction of the White home.

  “I’ll let the two of you walk together.” Mrs. White tucked Priscilla’s hand into the crook of Eli’s arm. “There. Now you can have a few minutes to get better acquainted.”

  For a moment, he stood unmoving and watched the woman stride away. She linked arms with her husband and hurried to catch up with Dr. Baldwin and the Indian boys.

  Priscilla shivered and began to slide her hand away from him. “I’m sorry about this.”

  He locked his arm over hers and prevented her escape. “I won’t ravish you. I promise.”

  “I didn’t think you would. It’s just that—”

  “This turned into a pretty big mess, didn’t it?” His muscles tightened.

  “Why don’t we put an end to it right here?” She jerked her hand, trying to free it.

  But he pressed harder, holding her captive, enjoying watching her spark come to life. “We can’t disappoint your mother quite yet, can we? Or you either.”

  In the cool evening air, the white clouds of her breath came in short bursts. “Of course you won’t disappoint me.”

  “Are you sure?” Even though his tone teased, a chamber of his heart stopped pulsing in anticipation of her answer.

  “God’s called me to India.” Her voice was clipped. “I’ve had a setback today, but He’ll open a way for me yet.”

  “The Board isn’t going to let you go by yourself.”

  “They might—”

  “You’re gonna have to get married, just like I have to.”

  She blew an exasperated breath. “Well, I’m not marrying you.”

  “That’s good, because I wasn’t planning to marry you either.”

  “I figured you wouldn’t.”

  The soft resignation in her tone halted his breath.

  “I completely understand.” She tugged her hand away and headed in the direction the others had gone.

  Her velvety cloak swished in finality, and she lifted her chin as if to defy him. But before she could conceal her hands within the fur of her muff, he caught a glimpse of her trembling fingers.

  Surely she didn’t think—

  “Wait.” He charged after her.

  She picked up her pace.

  “You misunderstood me.” With his long stride, he easily caught up to her. “Yes, Dr. Baldwin did tell me about your condition.”

  Her boots slapped the slush on the street. “I said I understand. Why would any man want to marry a woman who can’t give him a namesake?”

  “Plenty of men wouldn’t care.”

  “Well, I’d like to meet just one.”

  He grabbed her arm and dragged her to a stop.

  “Dr. Ernest!” She glared at his hand.

  He turned her until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. The shadows of the evening lurked in her eyes.

  “You want to meet a man who doesn’t care about a woman’s fertility?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “Well, you’re looking at one. God’s given me a passion and a calling to the natives of the West. I figure that’s all I need.”

  Her eyes widened. Framed by long lashes, they were the kind of eyes that could easily make him forget his own name if he wasn’t careful.

  “Listen.” He glanced to where the others had stopped in front of the Whites’ home, and
then his gaze trailed over to the other elaborate homes that lined the street. The shack he’d lived in as a child would fit into the front parlor of some of them. “All I’m trying to say is that I can’t marry you, but it’s not because of your infertility.”

  “If that’s not it, then why?”

  “Children!” Mrs. White called. “Come now. You can talk more inside, where it’s warm.”

  Priscilla waved to her mother. “We’re coming.” But she didn’t move.

  “Not that I want to marry you,” she continued. “Not at all. But if not for my condition, then what reason could you have for declining my mother’s offer? Certainly not because I’m a fine lady.”

  He shrugged, then cupped his hands and blew into them for warmth. “You seem to be sincere and kind and eager—but those qualities won’t help you survive the challenges of living in a foreign land.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she regarded him for a moment before finally speaking. “How am I to believe you when you are the only one who has ever made such a declaration? Everyone else has always encouraged me in my pursuit of missions.”

  “Haven’t you wondered why so many women missionaries die on the field?”

  “No. I haven’t wondered in the least. I’ve only considered my sisters in Christ heroic for their willingness to joyfully sacrifice their lives.”

  “Priscilla Jane White,” Mrs. White called. “You hurry now before you catch your death of cold.”

  She started forward.

  He matched his pace to hers. “Maybe they’re not heroic so much as they are foolish, going to places and climates that are harsh for the healthiest and facing privations that would tax even the strongest.”

  “It would seem your standards are too high for everyone.”

  “Perhaps not for everyone. Maybe just for young gals who aren’t used to doing hard work.”

  “Oh good. Then that isn’t me.” Their footsteps slowed as they neared the Whites’ double-storied home with its tall Greek Revival pillars set in a stately row across the front. “Because, first of all, I’m not a ‘gal.’ And second, I’ve done plenty of hard labor in my life.”

  “Where I come from, knitting socks isn’t considered work.”