The Farmer Takes A Wife. Barbara Gale

offer the town the medical care they had missed the previous spring.

      “The head office was mortified when I spoke to them, and more than willing to rectify the error.”

      “And so they should,” Louisa sniffed. “I’m glad they had the decency to fess up. And I’m glad it’s you who’ll be doing the doctoring.”

      “I’m glad you’re glad.” Maggie grinned over a cup of chamomile tea she had brewed in Louisa’s tiny kitchen. Having now shared a number of meals there, Maggie had grown comfortable moving about, and Louisa had given her free rein.

      “Look, Maggie, I’m an old woman. I’ve lived in this town all my life. I don’t know anything else, except that I’d like to know that Primrose will survive me. Is that so wrong?”

      “Of course not,” Maggie protested. “But you needn’t talk like that. It was just a fluke that they missed the last medical rotation here.”

      “It’s more than that. In a nutshell, we’re too isolated,” Louisa said promptly. “We always have been. It’s okay to be a one-horse town, it preserves your heritage, and all—I know that—but isolation has its price, and the price for Primrose has been its decline. Plain and simple, we’re sinking into poverty. Maybe once it was okay to farm only, but not any longer. The town is dying, and that’s a fact.”

      According to the old woman, and she admitted that her memory might be faulty, quite a few babies had been born last spring. Well, they ought to be vaccinated, but they hadn’t yet been. Although many townspeople came to town when the medical van came by, many did not. There were four, possibly five babies somewhere up in the mountains that needed their shots. Finding them would be difficult, too. But it wasn’t only a matter of babies and vaccines; they were all in need of better health care. Her swollen legs were a prime example.

      And there were countless other things, Louisa sighed.

      Their lone school teacher was looking very peaky of late. Or maybe she was just getting old. After all, Ella was turning seventy-one next month.

      The main road was in dire need of paving. So, even if Maggie wanted to stay and help, the roads were difficult to travel.

      “We have to do something, pull things together somehow, plan for the next generation. I was thinking that maybe, while you were doing the clinic you could take some sort of survey, get some idea of what everyone’s thinking.”

      “Louisa, why would the townsfolk talk to me? They don’t know me, much less trust me, and after what happened with the van in April, I doubt if anyone here is inclined to confide in me.”

      Louisa looked at her blandly. “True,” she said slowly, then brightened with a new thought. “But they’d talk to Rafe Burnside! They’d talk to him!”

      “But you would have to get Rafe to help me, and from things he said, I would be surprised if he had any spare time.”

      “Never mind that. He’d do it, if I asked him, and it’s only for a few days. If we gave him some sort of schedule I’m sure he could work around it. People have enormous respect for Rafe. They would definitely talk to him. Besides, some people won’t know the van is here, so you’re going to have to do some traveling to the outlying farms, and he could help you do that. Yes, getting Rafe to help you would be an excellent start.”

      

      Stifling a sigh, Rafe leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Louisa’s just feeling her age.”

      Intent on persuading Rafe, Maggie had cornered him the very next day, when he stopped for gas, winning him over with a glass of Louisa’s homemade lemonade.

      “Here, have another glass. She left me a whole pitcher, insisted it was a curative. She said in her day a real doctor would have prescribed a mustard plaster for a cold. A real doctor, indeed!” Maggie laughed, shading her eyes against the July sun that beat down as they sat outside Maggie’s cabin. “Louisa’s lemonade is so tart it could probably kill every germ in your body, including your white blood cells! As a real doctor, I know this for a fact!”

      Watching Rafe’s long fingers hug the frosty glass, Maggie marveled at her ability to make small talk. It had been a few days since she’d last seen him, and she hadn’t known him much longer than that, but he did something to her insides that she couldn’t explain. Watching him drink the tart lemonade in two long draughts, his firm jaw working, his Adam’s apple bobbing…Babbling was the least of her problems. Lit by the sun, his carved, granite face seemed to take on a softer contour. His body in repose made a compelling argument for outdoor work. She wondered what time he started his day, and was sorry to bring him grief, since it was evident he did not want to hear what she was going to say.

      “Rafe, yesterday, over breakfast, Louisa confided in me some of the things that are going on in Primrose.”

      Rafe handed Maggie the empty tumbler with a quizzical look.

      “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger,” she explained. “She’s very concerned and insists that the town has some big issues to deal with.”

      Rafe drew his hat over his eyes. Another dogooder lands her angel wings in town. His disgust knew no bounds, even if he felt the faint tug of attraction for Maggie. Sure she was cute, cuter than most, but she was still only after one thing, to stir up the pot, make herself feel good, leave as soon as the hot water ran out. These government people had no staying power. Not many people did, he reminded himself grimly. Why then, should he put himself out? Pretty red toenails didn’t mean squat, where he came from. Of course, if she wanted some action…Rafe laughed to himself, about himself. Damned ugly old farmer, go look in a mirror. What would she want with you? So he sighed for what could have been, and ignored Maggie’s pretty toes.

      “Like I said, Louisa’s just feeling her age. She and I already had this conversation, when she called my house, last night. I told her straight out that I didn’t have time. Anyway, she worries too much.”

      But Maggie would not be so easily dismissed. “Listen, cowboy, it’s not fair to brush Louisa off that way. She has legitimate concerns about Primrose. Oh, and just so you know, I got a call, too, early this morning. My office is letting me stay awhile and make amends to the town.”

      “A generous offer, considering you are a doctor.”

      “For your information, I do not run the program!” she snapped. “Someone else determines the schedule, and we have a very small staff that covers six states. Like I said, I’m going to stay a week or two, to help out, but I refuse to play the blame game. Louisa, on the other hand, was talking about the town’s survival. She has a shopping list, too, a big one. New roads, a new schoolhouse, and a new teacher to put it to use. But mostly she talked about how the town was on the brink of ruin. She’s very concerned about that, and wants to find ways to raise revenue. She has some good ideas, too.”

      “And you’ve been here how long?” Rafe drawled, lifting his hat to send her a searching look. “Three days?”

      “I know.” Maggie blushed. “I sound like a know-it-all, but I was only her sounding board. Still, she’s right to be concerned. Nothing lasts forever. Things change…people…Towns do, too.”

      “Yeah, and people come and go, too.”

      Maggie winced at the bitterness she heard in Rafe’s voice, sighed too, for the discouraging message he sent. She didn’t blame him for not trusting her, a perfect stranger charging into his life, but on the other hand, Louisa had chosen her, not the other way around. She was determined not to be cowed. “Look, Rafe, could we please keep this simple? Louisa thinks there were about half a dozen babies born last winter and they haven’t had their shots. She knows who they are, but she says I need someone to take me around, that they are not going to necessarily know I’m here, and that finding their homes could take me forever.”

      “You like children?” It was a statement more than a question.

      “Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. Very much,” she admitted.