Calder Brand - Janet Dailey Page 0,24
patients today.”
* * *
Sarah finished washing the breakfast dishes, dried the plates and cups, and placed them on the shelf above the sink. That done, she put fresh coffee on the stove to boil. When it came to keeping Uncle Harlan’s alcohol craving in check, she’d found that lots of hot, strong coffee was the best medicine.
As she worked, she pondered their earlier conversation. She was still coming to grips with his condition, and the fact that she was going to lose him. But it was what he’d said a little later, after breakfast, that had shaken her even more deeply.
“Now that you’ve agreed to stay, I need to make you aware of something else,” he’d said. “When my headaches come on—the worst ones—my sight goes dark. If people know about it, I’ll be in danger of losing my practice—or worse, losing a patient. That’s why I really need you here. If I go blind at the wrong time, I’ll need your eyes and your steady, young hands. Do you understand?”
Sarah understood. But the enormity of what he wanted left her paralyzed with self-doubt. She’d expected to watch, listen, and learn. But what he’d asked of her was far beyond that. What if she wasn’t up to the task? What if she failed?
Drying her hands on her apron, she walked out onto the shaded front porch to clear her thoughts. The doctor was wrapping a sprained ankle and didn’t need her help. For now, at least, she had a few minutes to breathe fresh air and think.
The July morning was already hot. Powdery dust coated the cottonwood leaves and swirled under the wheels of the wagons that passed. From the railway yard, a few blocks distant, came the lowing protests of cattle being loaded into boxcars. The sound reminded Sarah that the Calder cattle drive was due to reach Ogallala soon, maybe even today. Would she be seeing Joe, or had he already forgotten her?
Only now, after Uncle Harlan’s startling revelations, did Sarah realize how much she needed a friend to talk to. She’d only spent a short time with Joe, but thinking of him this morning, she felt as if she could tell him anything, and he would understand. She remembered his bravery, his gentleness, and the special way he’d made her feel. He might be just a poor cowboy, but he had a kind and honest heart. She trusted him—and today she needed him.
Sarah’s musings were cut short by the sight of a woman coming up the sidewalk toward the house. She was slender and appeared young—perhaps a little older than Sarah herself. The hair that showed beneath her bonnet was a rich, dark brown. Her calico dress was worn but well-made. The most striking thing about her was the way she carried herself—like a lady.
As she opened the gate, Sarah came down the front walk to greet her. “Good morning, ma’am,” she said. “If you’re here to see the doctor, he’s with a patient now. But he shouldn’t be long. You’re welcome to come inside where it’s still cool. I can make you a cup of tea.”
Up close, the woman was stunning, with flawless skin and expressive brown eyes. “Thank you,” she said, “but I’m not here to see the doctor. If your name is Sarah Foxworth, I’ve come to see you. My name is Lorna Calder. Please call me Lorna.”
Sarah’s knees went liquid as she recognized the surname. A sick premonition crept over her. Who else could the woman be but Benteen Calder’s wife? And why would she have come here except to bring bad news?
She took a deep breath and forced herself to say the words she dreaded. “This is about Joe Dollarhide, isn’t it?”
Lorna nodded toward a wooden bench, set against the house in the shade of the porch. “Why don’t we sit down over there, where we can talk out of the sun?”
“Of course.” Heart pounding, Sarah ushered Lorna to the porch and sat down beside her. She had yet to hear the awful news, but she was already fighting tears. Joe wouldn’t be coming by to see her. She would never see his eager grin or hear his voice again.
“You don’t have to tell me, Lorna,” she said. “I knew as soon as you told me your name. He’s gone, isn’t he?”
Lorna reached over and took her hand. Her palm was like smooth leather. “Joe was my friend,” she said. “He always saddled my horse and helped me hitch the wagon. Sometimes