Chapter 3

Bob had them prepare a plate to take back to his patient. When he brought the towel-covered food back to his office, the girl was still asleep. Her color was better. He examined the scrapes that weren't covered by her new dress and nodded with satisfaction that none of them looked inflamed.

Her mouth was closed now, which suggested she wasn't under quite so deep. He gazed at the lush lips. He hadn't kissed lips like those in ... he couldn't even remember how long it had been. Whores didn't like to be kissed, generally speaking, and since the war the only woman he'd ever had was a whore at the Silver Dollar Saloon which, though owned by a woman, employed the town's only prostitutes. That girl had left town and, having had to treat most of the other girls for problems related to their employment, he'd never had the stomach to pick another one.

And that had been at least three years back.

Of course, while this girl looked peaceful, and sweet, he knew that didn't mean anything. She might turn out to be a harridan of the first magnitude. But right now she was sweet, and beautiful ... and unconscious.

He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. He concentrated on the feel of that ... her warm lips soft and pliable ... her scent clean and sweet. He kissed her lips harder, feeling both the thrill of it and guilt at abusing his patient. He pulled back, feeling shame.

Her eyes were open, staring at him.

"I'm sorry," he gasped.

She blinked, and licked her lips. Her mouth made sticky noises and he realized her throat was too dry to speak. He got the water pitcher off his dry sink and splashed some into the tin cup he used for drinking just about everything he imbibed. He watched her eyes as her mouth, knowing what to do, tried to sip. Her eyes, though, wandered lazily.

He realized she was still befuddled by the laudanum, and heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps she wouldn't remember he had violated her. There was no chair, so he sat beside her on the bed and held her hand.

"You're fine," he said soothingly. "You're safe."

"Am I?" she asked, her voice slow and slurred.

"I promise," he said, meaning it. He still felt guilty, but he meant it.

"All right," she sighed.

"Try to eat something," he said. He fed her with a spoon, and she ate a few bites.

"It hurts," she complained.

He knew she needed sleep more than anything else, so he used a little more of his precious laudanum.

She closed her eyes again. In ten minutes she was sleeping deeply.

Bob got the horse blanket and used it as a mat to lie on. Draping his long, winter coat over himself, he drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep.

At breakfast the next day Bob looked up when Boots sat down across the table from him. It was highly unusual for Boots to venture into the hotel dining room.

"Buy me breakfast, Doc?" she asked.

"And why would I want to do that?" he replied.

"'Cause you're gonna need some help with Miss Millie. You got to talk to the - what'd you call them? Town fathers? You got to talk to them, and that old place you're going to dump her in is probably full of rat's nests. She ain't got no clothes. Folks round here ain't used to havin' a schoolmarm. Somebody's got to ride out to all the ranches and tell 'em school will be startin' up. Miss Millie sure ain't gonna do all that by herself, and I'm of a mind you ain't e'zactly all excited about doing all that yerself, neither. Now me? I ain't got nothin' to do right now. Got time to burn, I do. But the least all that's worth is breakfast, don't you think?"

Bob grinned. "I've always liked you, Boots," he said.

"That's 'cause when I got here you saw me in my altogether," she drawled. "Men only think about one thing, Doc, and you ain't no different. I seen how you looked at Miss Millie."

"Have I ever tried anything with you, Boots?" he asked, still smiling.

"You might be horny, like all men," she commented. "But you got more smarts than most of 'em. That's the difference. And that's why I put up with you."

"You ... put up with me..." Bob grinned wider.

Boots stood up. "You kin do all that by yerself iffen you want to. Makes me no never mind."

"Sit down, Boots," said Bob.

"Why thankee, Doc," she said smoothly as she took her chair again. "I've always knowed you was a generous man."

The waiter approached. He smiled at Bob, but looked with distaste at Boots, who began ordering before he could say a word.

"Gimme flapjacks, and bacon, and some eggs too. Three I think. And some of that sweet stuff you got to put on flapjacks. And milk. I want milk. You got cold milk here?"

"We keep the milk in the cellar," said the man frostily.

"That's good," said Boots. "Now hurry along there pretty man, 'cause I'm powerful hungry."

The waiter didn't move. "That will be fifty cents," he said stiffly.

Bob lifted his fork. "Put it on my account, Martin."

"If you insist, sir," said the waiter. He looked disappointed.

Boots watched him go.

"How come I never see him around town anywhere?" she asked.

"I think he keeps pretty much to himself when he's not working here. I believe his uncle owns this place."

"Still, you'd think he'd be out and about. I don't even know where he lives!"

"He lives with his sister. She's the one who will be cooking your breakfast."

"Man lives with his sister?" Boots looked surprised. "Don't her husband object?"

"She's not married," said Doc. "Nor is he. They live in that yellow house down behind the livery."

"That little place?" Boots looked astonished. "There ain't but one room there, Doc."

"I know," he said.

"But that ain't natural ... a man and woman ... brother and sister ... living that close together."

"I don't think Martin is much interested in women," said Doc.

Boots' eyes went round. "I don't know which is more disgustin', Doc."

"Might I remind you you're not much interested in men?" Doc didn't smile.

"Well yeah," she said, looking uncomfortable. "But I don't live with no woman neither."