schools for application forms. She had yet to hear back from any of them. But maybe today would be the day.
She would wait for the postman to pass by—or to stop if he had anything for her. After that, she would put on her boots and slicker, take Uncle Harlan’s old medical bag, and travel two miles through the rain to the Poulsen farm. In this mud, the cart would only bog down. She would saddle Ahab and ride him.
She was still waiting for the mail when a buggy pulled up in front of the house. Recognizing it, she battled mixed feelings while she waited for the knock at the door. She hated being dependent on anyone, especially when she had so little to offer in return. But on a day like today, with rain pouring down, the roof leaking, and the stove running out of firewood, Everett Hamilton deserved a warm welcome. Hearing the light rap, Sarah hurried to open the door.
The man who stood on the porch, shaking water off his slicker, was in his mid-thirties. Widowed last year, with no children, he owned one of the more respectable saloons in Ogallala. He was as handsome as he was prosperous, and a number of women had set their sights on him. But for whatever reason, he had singled out Sarah.
He gave her a winning smile. “I saw you at the window. Were you watching for me?”
“I was watching for the mail. But I’m glad to see you. Can I take your slicker?”
He shook his head. With the slicker hood thrown back, his blond hair lay in damp curls against his skull. “I can’t stay long. But I brought you more firewood. My new hired boy is unloading it in the shed. It looks like you could use some here, too. I’ll have him bring a few logs inside.”
“Thank you, Everett. I’m beholden to you.” Sarah hated being in anyone’s debt, but she would freeze without the wood.
“Don’t be silly. It’s my pleasure. I only wish you’d let me do more.” He glanced toward the window. “You said you were waiting for the mail. Were you expecting something?”
Sarah forced a smile. “Only the same old thing. I keep hoping I’ll get an application for at least one medical school.”
He sighed. “Sarah, I know you have this crazy dream of being a doctor. But what are the chances of it coming true? You would be happier if you gave it up and let me take care of you.”
Sarah gazed past him, through the window, as the postman’s buggy passed on the road—once again—without stopping at her mailbox. “I’ve never wanted to be taken care of,” she said.
“Maybe that’s what makes you different from every other woman I’ve known.” He took a step closer.
“Maybe you’ve just known the wrong women.” She gave him a smile as she turned away. “Speaking of women, I need to be going. Becky Poulsen is due to have her baby anytime now. I promised her a visit today.”
“You’re not going out in this weather!”
“I’ll be fine. My slicker will keep me dry. Ahab won’t be too happy, but I’ll give him a good rubdown and some oats when we get home.”
“You’ll catch your death. Let me drive you in the buggy.”
“It’s a tempting offer. But if Becky is going into labor I could be stuck there for hours. And I’ll need my own way home afterward.”
His simmering impatience exploded in a sigh. If I were your husband, I could forbid you. Sarah could almost read his thoughts, but Everett had enough sense to keep them to himself.
“You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever known, Sarah Foxworth,” he said. “But I’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop coming around to see you.”
“You can come and go as you like, Everett,” she said. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get on the road.” She reached for her slicker, which hung on a peg by the door.
“Wait.” He stopped her with a touch. “Before you go, there’s something I came to say. Just hear me out—it won’t take long. And I’m not asking for a decision now. Just promise me that you’ll think about it.”
“I’m listening.” Sarah’s smile masked the sense that she was being backed into a corner.
He cleared his throat. “Some important folks have been talking to me. They want me to run for Keith County commissioner in the next election. I’ve already said yes.”