She was on his mind again as he walked. Each time he met her, she surprised him in some new way. Now, he mused over how she’d had the foresight to staunch Mr. Sterling’s bleeding. Many women—and men, too—would have cowered at the sight of so much blood, and been helpless at the thought of what to do. Yet, Miss Rousseau hadn’t. She’d known exactly how to staunch the bleeding and had executed it without fear or hesitation.
How had she learned what to do? He hated to admit it might have been from her father. Was he wrong about Dr. Rousseau? No, he couldn’t be. Perhaps the man knew a thing or two about treating injuries. That didn’t make him a doctor. He hadn’t even come to treat his own business partner. Of course, Miss Rousseau may have spoken the truth about him feeling ill. She truly believed her father was who he claimed to be. How would she react if she finally understood he wasn’t?
Nick’s heart ached at the thought. She deserved to know the truth, though, no matter how much it might hurt her. It wasn’t right that her father had brought her up with his lies. Nick only hoped that she might figure it out herself. He certainly didn’t want to be the one to finally convince her.
Dr. JT was outside his cabin, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand, when Nick arrived. The laughter and shouts of the children sounded from inside the cabin.
“Good morning!” JT called. “I thought I’d come out here into the cold for a bit of quiet. What brings you up here so early in the day?”
Nick filled him in on two men he’d treated in Creede the night before. Mrs. Thomas brought a cup of coffee out to him as he told the story of treating Mr. Taunton in the livery. Two of the children tumbled out after her, and she shooed them back inside. When Nick finished telling his story, he took a sip of the coffee, letting it warm him from the inside out.
“Both men appear to be recovering well,” he added.
“Wonderful,” JT said, leaning against one of the posts. “It’s good you were there. I don’t like to think what might have happened if someone had needed to fetch me from Bachelor. And I don’t know if I could have left the woman I was treating there, either.”
Nick nodded. It did seem fortuitous. Was this the place he was meant to be? He wasn’t certain, not yet, but treating two acute injuries in one night had given him more satisfaction than he’d had in all the years he’d practiced medicine in Cincinnati.
“What did Dr. Rousseau say to your treating his partner?” JT asked, hands wrapped around his coffee cup.
“Nothing. The man wasn’t there. Miss Rousseau informed me that he’s taken ill.”
“Hmm. Perhaps it would be good to check in on him?”
Nick looked past JT’s probing gaze, off into a stand of aspens, their white trunks matching the snow that lay on the ground. “I could . . .” Of course, now that JT had planted the thought, he couldn’t see how he could decline. It would go against everything he believed as a doctor to simply ignore a man who was sick. How would the man react to his presence, though? “You think I ought to? His daughter seems to be quite the capable nurse. Not trained, of course, but she acted decisively and correctly with Mr. Sterling last night.”
“What do you think you should do?” JT asked unhelpfully.
Nick sighed. “I’ll pay him a visit.”
“While you’re there, you should inquire about whether Miss Rousseau is attending the Matchmaker’s Ball on Friday.” JT examined his mug as he spoke, as if something intriguing could be found in the dregs of coffee at the bottom.
Nick nearly choked on his own sip of coffee. “Matchmaker’s Ball?” he sputtered, wiping his chin with his gloved hand.
“I’m sorry, I thought you’d heard of it by now.” JT smiled as if he wasn’t one bit sorry. “It’s a popular event.”
“Is it?” Nick tried to imagine a dance like the ones he’d known back in Ohio happening in rough-and-tumble Creede, and he couldn’t put the picture together.
“Oh, yes. Nora and I have attended a few times. It reminds me of dances back in Philadelphia. You ought to go. It’s always a good time, and all the eligible ladies in town look forward to it.” He paused. “Don’t let the name scare you away. It’s simply a nickname received after a few happy couples married after going to the dance.”
Dancing with the young women of Creede at a ball was not particularly how Nick had pictured his time away from Cincinnati. And yet, JT had said all the eligible ladies in town liked to go . . . Would Miss Rousseau be there? He could imagine her in a flowing dress, pieces of her hair framing her face, and her cheeks pink from the exertion of dancing. But dancing with whom? If he didn’t go, it certainly wouldn’t be with him. And with a name like the Matchmaker’s Ball . . . It didn’t seem like something he wanted to leave to chance.
“I believe I’ll go,” he said decisively. And when he visited Dr. Rousseau, he’d find a way to determine whether or not Willa planned to attend.
“Now that’s settled, why don’t we go inside? I have an interesting case I’d like another opinion on.” JT made his way to the cabin’s door, and Nick followed, his mind still picturing Miss Rousseau laughing as he twirled her about the ballroom.
