Page 12 of Scarlett

Her brow wrinkled as she frowned up at him. “Well...you are not exactly a friendly sort. I hope you don’t frighten the poor girl that comes to marry you.”

“Fright...” He stopped and his lips curved. “I will endeavor not to scare her.”

Not seeming to believe him, Aurora pressed her lips together in a tight line. “I hope not.”

Her countenance changed and she moved away, hands clutched together. “How positively exciting. I can’t wait to tell Wilhelmina, Lucille...oh and Esther. We’ll have a new member of the family.” She beamed and hurried to the window as if willing her friends to appear. “When does she arrive?”

“I don’t know.”

“We should ask. Perhaps there is a telegram waiting. You should go check.” The woman hurried to the back and returned with her shawl. “On second thought, I’ll stop by there on my way to the mercantile.”

She hurried out the door before Emmett could utter a word.

What was it about brides that made women get all animated? If anything, whoever came would be overwhelmed, unhappy, and unsure of having come. In his opinion, the only women who accepted a husband sight unseen were those in desperate situations. Either that or so homely no man where they lived would offer marriage.

Emmett wasn’t sure what to do about the current situation. For the first time in weeks, he had a moment of free time. He decided to check in at the clinic to ensure all was clean and orderly. Gladys would arrive later that morning to clean and organize supplies as she often did. The woman was a great assistant. Didn’t take any sass from the patients, would help him when needed, and brought him a meal daily.

Gladys, who lived with her husband and mother-in-law, seemed to relish time away from her home, often sitting at the clinic knitting for hours while keeping an eye on the door.

Through the kitchen and out the back door, it was a short walk to the clinic just a few yards away. The small building housed a large open space with two beds, a stove, a desk and several chairs. Along one wall were shelves where medical herbs, tonics and such were stored. Beneath it was a cabinet that held bowls, cups, and whatever was needed to mix up items.

Next to each bed was a table used for holding water and such. Beneath them were bedpans and neatly folded cloths that could be used to mop up messes.

All in all, the clinic was perfect. His brother had done well in setting it up, and Emmett felt at home in the space.

Gladys entered the front door and huffed. “I don’t see how I can continue to live with my mother-in-law. The woman needs to find a hobby,” she grumbled, placing a basket next to a chair and going to the stove.

Shoving small logs into it, she continued. “The nerve of her this morning telling me I didn’t know the first thing about making proper cornbread.”

As was his custom, Emmett remained silent. He went out back to the water pump and brought back a bucket of water. He then poured water into the teakettle and placed it on the stove’s surface.

“Thank you Dr. Jones. I may require something strong today. Perhaps thistle tea to settle my nerves.” She sunk into a chair and glared at the door.

After ensuring jugs of water were filled, Emmett went to the front porch and stood looking toward the center of town.

As usual, mornings were a busy time. Men hustled to and fro with large bags on their backs into the mercantile. A group of women gathered in front of the new apothecary. Several men on horseback rode past, followed by a wagon loaded high with bushels of hay.

For a few moments, Emmett watched the barber sweep the walkway in front of his shop while speaking to a man who stood on the road.

Life in Laurel, although quiet, was good. These were hardy people who did what they could to live day to day. Although he was part of the community, Emmett sensed he’d become more involved once his new bride arrived.

A wagon came into view. Evan motioned for him to come closer as he pulled it to a stop and jumped down. His brother rushed to the back.

Down the steps to the back of the wagon, Emmett stopped at seeing a crying dirty faced girl. Her curly hair had been braided into two braids, but now only one remained, half of her head was askew, as the curls had escaped. Tears poured down her cheeks and she wiped them away with her arm, leaving a trail of dirt and mud.

“Help me get her down. She’s broken her lower leg.”

They tugged the blanket she laid on to the edge and then carefully took her into the clinic as Gladys held the door open.

“Jenny, your mama is going to beat the tar out of you once you heal,” Gladys told the now wide-eyed girl.

Evan had splinted the leg. All that could be done for the time being was to examine it, clean it and bandage it tightly, which would bring more tears.

As if conjured, the mother stormed in, cheeks flushed. “What did I tell you about climbing trees with Billy?” With both hands on her hips, she glared down at the girl who began crying again.

“She broke her leg. We’ll have to splint it before she can go home,” Evan began explaining, falling easily into the role of town doctor. “She won’t be climbing any trees for at least a couple months.”

Deflated, the woman backed to a chair and sat. “I can’t let them out of my sight for a minute.”