Authors: Pamela Morsi
}Not a great loss to the human race, Doc Odie thought as his eyes narrowed. "A young lady has the right to defend herself as best she can."
}"Defend herself?" Turley chuckled without humor. "Hell, Doc, I didn't drag her up here. She wanted it. It was her idea."
}Doc Odie seemed to ignore the words as he reached into his bag for a bottle of medicine. Liberally, he doused the open wound on Turley's temple with carbolic.
}The young man screamed.
}"Even if it was her idea," Doc Odie said to him quietly, "a young lady always has the option of changing her mind." The doctor poured more of the fiery carbolic on the back of Turley's head. The cowboy went rigid and momentarily fainted from the treatment.
}The doctor sighed with satisfaction. "That should keep away any infection," he said aloud, as if the cowboy were not now beyond hearing.
}Without Turley's foul-speaking tongue to anger him further, Doc Odie carefully dried and inspected the wounds before wrapping his entire head in soft, clean cotton bandages. He glanced around the dirty room, hating the sight of the place. He recalled the meticulous cleanliness of the Dix house. Miss Emma was much too beautiful to be seen in such squalor. But it wasn't simply her beauty that made her too fine for such a dwelling. She was a loving daughter and a splendid, strong woman. She should never have come to this disreputable flophouse.
}But she had. Was she trying to get Turley to marry her? Doc Odie shook his head. Perhaps she had decided against Briggs, but surely there was someone better than Turley. Even
he
would be a better husband to her than Turley!
}He looked down at his patient. Clearly the young man was not gravely ill and there had been little chance that he would have died. Still, Doc Odie couldn't help but be glad that Emma had come to him for help. She trusted him, and that was a very good thing. A lot of things could be built on trust.
}Uncorking a bottle of smelling salts, Doc Odie passed it beneath the cowboy's nose and he revived immediately. He began moaning all over again.
}"Well, you're all wrapped up nice and neat now," the doctor told him.
}"Damn her, she could have killed me."
}Doc Odie began loading his equipment in his bag. "Not likely, not with a head as hard as yours."
}"You think I'm going to be all right then?" the cowboy asked.
}"Yes, you'll be fine. That is, if you take a suggestion I would like to make for the sake of your health."
}"What's that?"
}"You ought to leave town."
}Turley's brow furrowed. "What?"
}"For the sake of your health," the doctor repeated quietly. "I don't think being ridden out of town on a rail would be very good for you with those head wounds. And that, of course, is what will happen when I tell the townspeople that you attacked Miss Emma."
}"I didn't attack her!"
}The doctor shrugged. "Yes, I do suppose it will be your word against mine."
}Turley looked furious as he stared at Doc Odie. The man was at least fifteen years older than him, not even half his size, and looked like a good stiff wind could knock him down, not to mention a hard-living cowboy. Still, the doctor's expression was unyielding. His determination alone seemed to give him power that youth and muscles did not.
}Turley raised his chin, determined to outstare the older man. The doctor, however, was not intimidated.
}With calm finality, Doc Odie snapped the closure on his worn black leather case. "Change the bandage every three days and have a nice trip," he said evenly.
}Unhurried, Odie made his way to leave. He turned back to give Turley a long look. "I would think that your health will greatly improve the minute you get out of this town."
}There was anger in Turley's expression, but he didn't reply.
}When Doc Odie opened the door he found Emma standing nervously on the landing.
}"Will he live?" She tried to look past Odie's shoulder into the room.
}"Certainly," the doctor answered. "I never kill my patients unless it's absolutely necessary."
}Startled, Emma stared at him dumbstruck for a moment until she realized that he was making a joke. She sighed in relief and even managed a ghost of a giggle.
}"I was so afraid," she said.
}The doctor took her hand. It was as cold as if it were the dead of winter instead of a balmy evening.
}"Yes, I know you were afraid," he said kindly. "But you needn't worry now. Mr. Turley's decided to leave town at the earliest opportunity, and you are quite safe with me."
}Sighing, Emma stood limply on the stairway landing for a moment, shaking her head and simply counting her blessings. Doc Odie wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.
}"He's really decided to leave town?" she asked in unfeigned relief.
}The doctor glanced back into the dark, squalid room at the young man still lying on the bed. Then he leaned close to Emma's ear to answer her in a whisper. "I believe, Miss Emma, that you have plainly scared the daylights out of the man. I certainly wouldn't want to have you as an enemy of mine."
}Emma's slack-jawed amazement brought a smile to the doctor's face.
}"But then we've never been enemies, have we? We've always been the best of friends. May I have the pleasure of escorting you home, Miss Emma?"
}She didn't have a chance to reply; Doc Odie took her arm as if stepping out at a grand cotillion.
}As they descended the stairs, Turley looked after them, shaking his head in disbelief.
}"Emma Dix and Doc Odie?" he speculated aloud with clear disbelief. "That gorgeous sugartail and the smelly old Doc?" Turley almost laughed at the idea. Then his thoughts cleared.
}Again he heard the doctor's words and saw his unyielding expression. He remembered his own foolishness in picking a fight with Luther Briggs. A man would do a lot for a woman like Emma Dix.
}Ignoring the pain in his head, Turley jumped from the bed and hurried to take action. In ten minutes flat his dirty laundry was stuffed in his saddlebags, his tilt-brimmed sombrero covered his bandages, his shattered shaving mirror was left in pieces on the floor, and he was noisily carrying his tack and saddle downstairs.
}Chapter 18
}The lamplight glowed in Tulsa May's bedroom as she and her mother sat on the edge of the bed, having a mother-daughter talk. At least, that was allegedly why her mother was there. In fact, Constance Bruder had begun sobbing and sniveling the minute she walked into the room and she hadn't stopped yet, almost fifteen minutes later.
}"Please, Mama," Tulsa May coaxed. "You really mustn't take on so."
}"My baby!" Constance whined. "Married among strangers!"
}Tulsa May had nothing really constructive to answer to that. She was sure her mother wouldn't feel any better to hear that she was actually not married at all.
}"I just didn't want you to have to go to all that trouble."
}That brought a near hysterical response. "You are my only child, my only baby. It wouldn't have been trouble. It would have been joy."
}Tulsa May had no idea how to go on from there. Her mother had seemed at first stunned at the wedding news, then delighted. Now she had succumbed to disappointment at missing an opportunity for a gala celebration.
}"Mama, what's done is done," Tulsa May insisted gently, stroking her mother's back reassuringly. "We just have to go on from here."
}The admonition was as much for herself as for her mother. On the porch, when she'd made her declaration, it was almost a reflex action. Arthel was in trouble. Luther had to save him. She had to help.
}Never had she imagined that Luther would claim holy wedlock. But then she had set the ball rolling. It no longer mattered. The milk was definitely spilt and she didn't know what she could do about it now.
}"I know I should be happy," her mother sobbed.
}"That's right, Mama," Tulsa May coaxed. "Luther and I want you to be happy for us."
}Constance blew her nose loudly in a linen handkerchief and attempted to compose herself. "I know how Moses must have felt not being able to cross over Jordan."
}"Moses?" Tulsa May looked at her mother with genuine puzzlement.
}"You know the story," Constance said. "For forty years Moses led the children of Israel through the wilderness. Then when they finally got to the promised land, God didn't allow Moses go in with them."
}"What has that got to do with Luther and me?"
}"For twenty years I've prayed and prayed," the woman answered. "And thank the Lord, now you've finally gotten married. But just like Moses, Heaven didn't see clear to let me be there." Mrs. Bruder wiped her tears on her handkerchief and looked at her daughter bravely. "I've simply got to stop feeling sad and be grateful that my prayers were answered."
}Prayers were the order of the day downstairs as well. These were not the preacher's prayers, nor even the prayers of the deacons, city fathers, or the previously outraged upstanding citizens. The only silent entreaties emanating from the lower floor of the Bruder parsonage were coming from Luther Briggs.
}"Please don't let anybody ask to see the marriage license," he begged fervently. "I'll change my ways, I'll sell my share of Ruggy's Place, but please don't allow anyone to ask to see the papers." Lack of a wedding ring could be explained away, but nobody marries without a license.
}The crowd of men, who had been cheerfully toasting the bridegroom with lemonade, slapping him on the back repeatedly with congratulations, began to disperse. Luther found himself less and less eager to be alone with his fictional father-in-law. He had always tried to be open and truthful with the preacher. Lying to him now would be painful. But he had to protect Tulsa May. Even more than Arthel, Tulsa May deserved his protection.
}Once they were alone, Reverend Bruder grasped Luther in a bear hug.
}"Son," he said. "At last I can really call you that. Welcome to the family."
}His stomach sank. It had been one thing to have the Rev as a temporary foster parent when he was sixteen. At twenty-six, the last thing in the world that he wanted was the good reverend to feel obliged to offer wedding night advice and counseling.
}Luther smiled wanly. His only other option would be to hurry up to Tulsy's room. He was quite willing to do that—at least then they'd have a chance to get their stories straight—but Miz Constance was up there. Luther was sure that she would find it unseemly for him to be such an eager bridegroom. He seemed destined to listen to a "man-to-man" talk.
}"Come and sit with me a moment," the reverend said, sighing expansively. "I've always thought we had a lot in common. Now, I guess little Tulsa May is one of those things."
}"Yes, I suppose so, Rev," Luther answered.
}"Please," the preacher said, clasping the younger man's hand in his own companionably. "Call me Pa."
}"Pa?" Staring at the smiling man with the bright orange moustache, Luther found the word a little distasteful on his tongue. "Rev, I really prefer—"
"I know, I know," Reverend Bruder interrupted. "It will take time for you to get used to this new informality. But son, we are going to get along just fine."
"I hope so, sir." Luther swallowed nervously.
"I've known you for ten years," the preacher continued. "And I've watched you grow up. Your path has not always been down the straight and narrow, but I've always been proud of you."
"Thank you, Rev."
"Oh, you've got into some scrapes. But I've known from the beginning, from the way you took responsibility for your brother, as well as your own life, that you had integrity. You're a man that a man can trust," he said. "And that's a good thing. It's hard for me to entrust my little girl to anyone at all."
"I can understand that."
"Truth to tell," the preacher admitted, "I wasn't all that fond of Odie Foote. Oh, don't get me wrong, he's a good, honest man and all. But he never seemed to have any special feeling for my little Tulsa May."
"Apparently not," Luther replied woodenly.
"But you," the preacher went on with a smile. "Why, I've been seeing it in your eyes for weeks. You're in love with my little girl, and I know she's in love with you."
Luther tried to hide his astonishment. Were he and Tulsy that good at acting? Or was the good reverend unbelievably naive?