What was he doing here? She wiped her hands on her smudged canvas apron, but there was little remedy for her dirt-caked nails. She frowned. What if something had happened to Ben? Her shoulders tensed. Would the doctor be the one to bring the news?
She bit her lip and headed down the row between bean and squash plants. A gopher darted into a tangle of vines. Maybe the doctor had come to check on his patient. After all, he probably wouldn’t be aware that Ben was away on the trail. She rolled her sleeves down to her wrist, covering her bare, tanned arms.
Dr. LeBeau donned a black frock coat over his white shirt and hopped down from the cushioned seat.
Dare she attempt to slip in the back door? It’d give her a chance to wash up and comb her hair. Her step faltered at the path that led around back.
Dr. LeBeau waved. “Good day, Miss Scott.”
Jack charged around the corner yelping. Their brave guard dog must have been sleeping on duty.
She tugged her apron off and shifted her steps toward her guest. She’d greet him as she was. “Good afternoon, Dr. LeBeau. I pray there hasn’t been any trouble.”
“Trouble?” He gave Jack a quick pet and looped his Morgan’s lead rope around the hitching post.
She frowned. “I mean, like someone getting hurt.” The apron dangled from her hand. “Mr. McKenzie is out on the trail.”
“I can see why you’d worry.” His mustache twitched. A slight smile spread across his face. “I heard McKenzie’s trying to round up your mavericks. But as far as I know, he hasn’t managed to hurt himself yet.”
She blinked at him. No emergency. And he was aware of Ben’s absence. Even reciprocated the same twinge of disrespect Ben evidenced toward him. So why had he come? A red cravat offset the bright white of his collar and the black of his frock coat, waistcoat, and trousers. The man was dressed more for a social call than a ride across the prairie. Only a thin layer of dust coated his garments. Had he stopped somewhere shy of here and dusted himself off?
His smile broadened beneath her perusal.
She glanced away. “I’m sure Mr. McKenzie will do well with the cattle. He’s a fine horseman. He served in the cavalry during the war.”
“If you say so, Miss Scott.” Murky blue eyes drank her in beneath the shade of his finely woven topper. “I’m no expert rancher. Spent too much time studying medicine and helping my father manage his cotton plantation, but I’ve heard cattle can be ornery at times.”
“True, but he has an experienced cowhand with him.” Did the doctor feel himself superior to Ben? “Mr. McKenzie is an educated man like yourself. He was in the newspaper business before the war. An editor, I think.” Why did she feel the incessant need to defend Ben to this man? And how, after seven weeks in Texas, had Ben managed to not tell her exactly what he did at the paper?
“So he’s a working man?”
“Don’t all men work?”
“Some of them have to work just to scrub by. Others work for the betterment of their community and beyond.”
“Mr. McKenzie’s father is a part owner of the paper.”
“That accounts for it, then.”
“Accounts for what?”
“Him rising to the position of editor.”
She jabbed a hand to her hip. “Dr. LeBeau?—”
“I’m teasing you, Miss Scott. Testing your willingness to defend the man.” His smile returned. “And you have done me a grave disservice?—”
“I have not.”
“On the contrary, you have denied me the pleasure of properly greeting you.” He held out his gloved hand.
The man was flirting. She rolled her eyes. Whether or not he deserved a greeting, he was the one who’d sat beside her when her father lay dying and the one who’d helped Ben get on his feet. She rubbed her hand on her wadded apron and extended her ungloved fingers.
The epitome of a Southern gentleman, he bent at the waist and brushed his thin, smooth lips to her knuckles. His well-trimmed goatee and mustache tickled her skin. A tingle ran up her arm. With a wiggle, she slipped her hand free.
He straightened. “I brought you a present.”
“Sir, I’m not in the habit of accepting gifts.”
