“I’m sure he has good intentions, Miss Scott.” The murky blue pools held onto her gaze. “But such men when without their medicine can be like caged lions, and with their medicine? The opium eventually dulls their minds and their souls.”
Like her father. Why had Jeb sent Ben McKenzie to her?
CHAPTER 9
Abuggy’sclickety-clackrumbled through the open window. Ben rolled out of bed and wrapped a red wool blanket around his shoulders to ward off the cool breeze as he crossed the room. Cora had left on horseback, not in a buggy. He’d waited all afternoon for her return. The only clue he’d been able to get from Charlie was that Cora had ordered him to keep quiet about where she’d gone.
The cymbals in his head had softened their tone since the incident with the spoon and the laudanum yesterday, and the ache in his bones had slackened. Perhaps the burst of energy and anger had jarred his constitution onto a new path.
Ben ran a hand over his hair and shoved the thin curtain aside. A tall gentleman in a frock coat and top hat climbed out of the gig and offered his hand to Cora. Did she blush as she accepted his assistance? The man’s fingers lingered on hers a moment or two after her feet had safely reached the ground. Ben’s jaw tightened.
Cora glanced up toward his window, her brow furrowing. The man turned. A goatee and slim mustache defined his face, along with his narrow nose. His skin looked as if it’d escaped the erosion of sun and wind. He’d probably lived a pampered life,one of those plantation owners who’d avoided serving in the war due to their large number of slaves.
The man lifted his gaze to Ben’s. Ben had never been close enough to clearly see the eyes of an opponent across a battlefield before the shooting started, but it felt like he just had. He drummed his fingers on the sill.
At least Cora hadn’t fetched the sheriff to run him off her land. But who was this? A beau? It’d never occurred to him she might have one, but if she did, why hadn’t the fellow been out here saving her from financial doom? Not that it was any of Ben’s concern. He had his own lady waiting for him in Philadelphia. A lady who’d welcome him. All he had to do was heal the minor rift created by his delay in making their betrothal official.
The man retrieved a black satchel from the buggy floor and stepped toward the stables. A doctor?
Withdrawing from view, Ben threw off the blanket and tugged his suspenders over his shoulders. He smoothed his hand down his wrinkled shirt and donned his sack coat. His stomach cramped, almost doubling him over. But he gritted his teeth and straightened as steps sounded on the stairs. Pitcher in hand, he swigged down a couple of gulps of water. He opened the door before the second knock.
Mr. Dandy stood there, matter-of-fact, a black leather bag in his hand. Definitely a doctor. Not a beau. But still a man who didn’t know when to let go of a lady’s hand.
The man looked him over head to toe. “Mr. McKenzie, I presume?”
“Captain McKenzie.” Ben leaned his shoulder against the jamb.
“Dr. Arthur LeBeau. Miss Scott asked me to stop by and see you.”
Stop by? More like ride miles out of town to see him. A couple of hours in a buggy with Cora. “I appreciate her concern. But I don’t need a doctor.”
“She’s worried about you.” LeBeau scoured him with a gaze. “And a quick glance at the pallor of your skin, your sunken cheeks, and the dark circles under your eyes leads me to agree with her assessment of your health.”
Ben glowered at the man.
LeBeau lifted his chin toward the house. “Miss Scott rode all the way into Weatherford to ask me to examine you. She told me about your problem.”
The last word stung. He crossed his arms. “Exactly what did she say my problem was?”
LeBeau blew out a breath as if he were dealing with an obstinate child. “She warned me you aren’t partial to doctors. It’s your choice. But out of respect for Miss Scott, I ask that you at least allow me to take a look at you. Or would you prefer I leave and have her ride in again when you’re flat on your back and can’t get out of bed?”
If only he could kick the door shut in this pompous dandy’s face. It’d been a doctor who had enslaved him to the drug to begin with. Instead, Ben stepped back and walked over to the chair. “Out of courtesy to Miss Scott.” He sat, sorry he hadn’t taken the time to make the rumpled bed. “My problem is my stomach. I’ve had it ever since my stay in Andersonville.”
A shadow of a smirk played at the corners of LeBeau’s lips.
Ben ground his teeth. Cora had told him about the laudanum. How dare she?
LeBeau set his bag on the bed, all trace of the smirk gone. “Open your shirt.”
He’d rather eat dirt, but he complied. He’d give this man no further fodder for his amusement.
LeBeau drew a stethoscope from his bag and pressed the hard metal tube to Ben’s sternum. The doctor moved it over a couple of inches. “Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out.” He repeated the process several times front and back. Then the man poked and prodded with his fingers along Ben’s neck and under his jaws, followed by peering into his mouth and eyes. Finally, LeBeau ordered him to lie down. More prodding around his stomach and abdomen.
Ben stared at the ceiling. A bitter taste arose in the back of his mouth.
“I’ll give you something for your stomach.” The doctor drew back.
Ben swung his legs off the bed, pulled his shirt down, and tugged his suspenders over his shoulders. “The druggist already tried that.”
