The Surgeon

She didn’t move. Two strangers walked by, an older man and woman headed toward the fort. John nodded hello, squeezing his bloody nose. He had no handkerchief so the blood dripped on his boot. Sinking down beside her, he stretched his legs out in front of him. His white sleeve brushed hers.

Since it seemed she couldn’t escape him, she opened her satchel, removed her lace handkerchief, then threw it at him. “Here!”

“Thanks.”

She squinted up at him to assess the damage she’d done. There was no swelling, but the bleeding wouldn’t stop.

“Don’t worry,” he said, with those glistening brown eyes that had almost been hers. “Luckily, I know what to do.” He leaned forward, pinching his nostrils with her hanky, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“You’re not supposed to lean forward and pinch your nose, you’re supposed to lean back.”

“I think I know what I’m doing.”

She snorted in anger.

They sat like that for minutes, absorbing the awful reality of her situation.

“You honestly didn’t write the letters?”

He shook his head. “Honestly.”

She sagged back. In her gut she knew he was telling the truth. He’d been tricked, too, and his indignation was palpable. But his stakes were nowhere near hers.

“How many did I write?” he asked.

“Four. Oh, my God,” she said, thinking of her letters.

“What is it?”

“Oh, my God.” She clamped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

“What?” John’s broad shoulders twisted to her direction.

A long groan escaped her. “When I wrote to you in my last letter, I disclosed something quite private.”

“What?”

“Something I wrote in a hasty moment of honesty. I thought…you’d discover it on your own soon enough and thought I might as well confess.” In truth, she’d thought if he discovered it on his own when she arrived, he might send her packing. There was no way she’d be able to hide it on her wedding night. It had been much easier to disclose at a distance, when she had so little to lose. What a practical woman, she chastised herself. “You’ll no doubt hear it from your men….” She lowered her head and toyed with her hands. “I told you that I wasn’t—” she lowered her voice to a whisper, reminding herself that he was a surgeon comfortable dealing with all sorts of subjects “—a virgin.”

“You aren’t?”

“You wrote back that you didn’t mind.”

“I didn’t?” He paused with sudden comprehension. “Oh, my God.”

She shook her head weakly. Thank God, she hadn’t gone the full distance to disclose the how and why, or she wouldn’t be able to look at him.

“Maybe it won’t get out,” he said. “Maybe you can trust them—”

“Who? Your band of merry men?”

When John rose slowly, he rubbed the growth of dark stubble along his firm jaw, and she knew he was affected. This was more devastating than any prank the Mounties could have imagined. This was her reputation.

Darkness surrounded them. When had it crept in?

Although she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt John’s heated stare as she rose and began walking. Shivering, she looked to the lights and sounds of the approaching buildings. There was a huge brewery to their left, a saloon across the road and stores lined up to their right. They passed a large sandstone building.

“How old are you, Sarah?”

She was twenty-eight but it was none of his business. “What difference does that make?”

“You’re a little…different than I expected.”

“How?”

“You remind me of a lot of friends I left back home in Toronto.” He studied her intently. “And you’re a bit older. Is that why you answered the advertisement? Because you weren’t having any luck on your own?”

“For heaven’s sake! I can’t believe you’re a doctor! You’re not helping matters by saying aggravating things like that!”

A streetlamp flickered above John’s dark head, weaving warm shadows around the two of them. When she started off down the boardwalk, John grabbed her gently by the arm. “Maybe not. Have there been any previous marriages?”

She tugged free, surprised at the impact of his grip, and his question. “No.”

“Any children?”

She gasped. “How can you ask that?”

“Well, it happens.”

“No!” She took a step toward him and turned the questioning around. “Have you had any previous marriages?”

He swallowed. “No.”

“Any children?”

“For God’s sake. No.”

“Well, it happens.” Ignoring the curious looks of passersby, Sarah scanned the signs above the buildings, looking for a boardinghouse. “Your questions come too late.”

“Do you have a place to stay? Where will you stay tonight?”

“I haven’t really had a chance to make any plans,” she said with cold humor. “Seeing that it’s only been ten minutes.”

“Right. Of course.”

She put down her bag. “Do you know…I mean, of course you’d know…Is there a pawn shop around here? A jeweler’s?”

“What for?”