The Prairie Doctor’s Bride. Kathryn Albright

with thin white stripes and a black shirtwaist. She took long, no-nonsense strides that could match any man’s. When she came near, he realized with something of shock that she was as tall as he was, which meant she had to be nearly six feet without the heels on those shoes of hers.

      The next two women walked arm in arm and were close enough in appearance that he wondered if they were sisters with their nondescript brown hair confined in buns, brown felt hats with flowers and dark brown wool coats that covered them from head to toe. One looked about the town and men with open curiosity in her intelligent expression as she walked, while the other had a severe case of nerves and kept covering her lower face and giggling into her gloved hands.

      The next two women walked single file, surrounded by the last of the cowboys from the saloon, who hid them so much that he couldn’t get much of a look at them. One looked to be quite attractive with pretty chestnut-colored hair, dark eyes and a wine-red hat that matched her cloak. The other appeared to be a blonde with wide cornflower blue eyes. She was a bit older by the small lines near her eyes. She might do—someone with experience in life could be an asset.

      Mrs. Austin, with her young charges in hand, took off with the entourage toward the hotel. It would fall to her to help the young ladies get settled into their rooms. Left to himself, Nelson considered the notes he’d made earlier that day and withdrew the paper from his vest pocket. It was a “wish list” of sorts. Likely, no woman would meet all his expectations, but perhaps it would help him stay on course as he considered each of them.

      Amiable.

      Biddable.

      Able to take constructive criticism.

      Skilled in domestic chores: cooking, laundry, cleaning, sewing and gardening.

      Willing to work by his side as his nurse.

      Quiet. He didn’t want a woman who disrupted his research or his daily habits.

      Willing to put another’s needs ahead of her own.

      He’d added the last as a cautionary point, remembering his fiancée. He’d thought they were compatible in all things, but then suddenly she had broken off the engagement, unable to accept the numerous times he’d been called away to help someone who was ailing.

      He wouldn’t let that happen again. What he needed was a practical woman as his wife. She didn’t need to be a raging beauty, but like any man, he wouldn’t mind if she was pleasant to look upon.

      He tucked the paper back into his pocket and headed to his office. Now all he had to do was interview the ladies, one at a time, and see which one came closest to fulfilling his wish list.

      Who knew? With his parents arriving in two weeks, perhaps they would find themselves attending his wedding.

      He stopped before his two-story home that doubled as his office and surveyed it critically. Prior to residing in Oak Grove, he’d worked as the physician for the railroad company. The job entailed constant travel—something he’d had enough of after two years. This was his first office, the first place he’d ever been able to “hang his own shingle” and be in business for himself. He hoped his parents would be impressed with it when they arrived. It wasn’t up to Boston standards, but it was a start for him.

      A wedding might be just what was needed to bring them all closer together. A wedding, after all, meant children would come next. The idea fascinated him. He was an only child, and a large family would be wonderful. But would his parents welcome grandchildren when they hadn’t ever made him feel welcomed? Likely, all his dreams were just that—dreams and nothing more.

       Chapter Three

      Sylvia threw the last of the wet clothes into her basket and traipsed back to the house from the creek. The day was uncommonly warm this early in spring, and she figured she’d better not misuse it. With her washing done, and soon to be spread on the line, she and Tommy might have time to hunt for mushrooms. Her mouth watered at the thought of them fried up in butter and piled high on a chunk of hearty bread.

      “Tommy! Fetch a pail from the lean-to and let’s take a walk down the road,” she called out.

      “Not till you find me!”

      That boy! He was full of vinegar! She couldn’t blame him, not one bit. The warm sun shining down beckoned her to put work aside and have a day of fun. “Can you give me a hint?”

      “Nope!”

      He must be behind the shed. She set her basket down and ducked under the clothesline. She couldn’t believe the shed still stood after the winter they’d had, but Thomas had been good with his hands and smart when it came to making things.

      “I’m coming!”

      “Won’t get me!” her son cried out.

      The happy sound filled her heart with gladness. She peeked behind the shed, ready to catch him if he raced by.

      “You ain’t even warm yet!”

      “Then where are you?” She tiptoed over to the stand of brush that edged the expanse of prairie and buffalo wallows beyond. The line of brush hid their place from prying eyes and made their small cabin feel cozy and protected. “I give up.”

      A giggle escaped Tommy. “Right here!”

      She spun around. Her son’s voice had come from above her. A flash of blue caught her eyes and she finally spied him. He’d managed to climb atop the shed and now lay sprawled across the slanted roof on his belly.

      “How’d you climb way up there? Come on down now.”

      He grinned. “All right, Ma.”

      He stood and took a step, the old wood and tarp cracking and then giving beneath his foot. He flailed his arms out and his eyes widened.

      “Tommy!” She moved closer. “Careful!”

      But the fear in his big brown eyes clutched at her heart. “Ma... Ma!” Suddenly, he pitched forward, scraping against the edge of the roof and crying out in pain as he fell.

      “No! Tommy!” she screamed and scrambled toward him.

      He landed hard on a patch of weeds and lay still.

      She knelt at his side, afraid at first to touch him. Hoping...hoping...that he would open his eyes or squirm or even jump up and laugh at her for being worried.

      He didn’t.

      “You all right?” she asked gently, her chest tight with worry. Of course, he wasn’t all right. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t even hearing her. “Tommy! Wake up! I’m here! I’m here...” She barely got the words out before her sobs choked them off. Her gut coiled into a hard lump. She reached for him. He was her baby—the only thing she cared for in this life. Oh, why...why...had he been born with the overpowering urge to climb things?

      Maybe he’d just had the wind knocked out of him. Maybe she just needed to give him a moment.

      Trembling, she took hold of his small hand. His face was deathly pale.

      “Tommy, please wake up...”

      His chest moved and then he gasped, pulling in air in a short burst, and then in a longer, slower drag as his lungs started working again.

      “Oh, my stars! Tommy, are you all right?”

      He rolled farther onto his back and took another breath. A deep one this time. “I don’t feel right.”

      “You fell from the shed, baby. Where does it hurt?”

      “Everywheres.”

      “I don’t doubt that. Can you move?”

      At that, he clenched his hands into fists, then tried to use his arms to sit up. Immediately, he fell back to the ground, breathing hard. “My head. My leg.”

      “Let