LITMIR.BIZ

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about him.

      Was this all part of her job as the doctor’s assistant?

      Stupid question—of course it was.

      Once the men had deposited him on the padded table in the examining room, they took their leave. Nate sat on the edge of the narrow but sturdy table with his legs dangling over the side. By refusing to lie down, he felt marginally more in control of the situation.

      To his surprise, Mrs. Leggett didn’t follow the men out. Surely she didn’t plan to assist in the actual examination?

      “I have strict instructions to take extra special care of you.” Dr. Pratt cast a smile his niece’s way. “So let’s get to it.”

      The doctor began to lay out some of his implements. “Verity, please help Mr. Cooper remove his shirt.”

      Apparently she was going to stay. And participate. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.

      But she didn’t seem the least bit disconcerted by her uncle’s request. Her expression remained pleasant but detached and her movements were businesslike as she approached him. Still...

      “That’s okay, I can manage,” he said as he quickly started working the buttons with his right hand.

      “Don’t be silly.” From her tone, she could be speaking to a wayward child. “This is part of my job. Besides, your arm is hurt and it’s best you don’t move it more than necessary until the doctor can take a look at it.”

      By this time Nate had managed to free all of the buttons, but he let her help him ease the already-ruined shirt off his arms and shoulders. As he did so, he was very conscious of the old scars she would see on his torso. What would she think?

      But it wasn’t until she’d laid the garment aside and turned back to him that he noticed any sort of reaction. Unlike the recoil or emasculating pity he’d expected, however, it was a wince and flash of guilt that she quickly suppressed.

      Glancing down, he saw the ugly bruise that had formed on his left side, no doubt from his contact with the wagon. Had she not noticed anything else?

      Once more wearing that businesslike, doctor’s-helper demeanor, she quickly moved around to remove the arm bandage she’d applied earlier. Her touch was every bit as sure and impersonal as before.

      Once done, she stepped away and allowed her uncle to take her place.

      “Well, Mr. Cooper, let’s take a look, shall we?”

      Nate nodded. “Please call me Nate. And your niece didn’t seem to think it was too serious.”

      Dr. Pratt smiled. “Verity’s got a good eye, but why don’t you let me have a look, anyway?”

      As Dr. Pratt performed his examination, he took his time and made a point of letting Nate know what he was doing and why. It was all very different from the treatment he’d grown accustomed to the past nine years.

      Even though Mrs. Leggett did her best to remain unobtrusive, Nate found himself very aware of her presence. Her movements were deft and sure, and she seemed to anticipate her uncle’s requests so that very few words were spoken between them.

      Verity—that was a rather old-fashioned name, but somehow it suited her. And her daughter was named Joy. Both named for virtues. The jaded part of him wondered if they found the names a burden to live up to. Not the little girl, of course, at least not yet. But the mother?

      After cleaning the wound and studying it, the doctor looked up to meet Nate’s gaze. “You’re going to need stitches, but I don’t see any reason why this cut shouldn’t heal completely with no lasting damage, other than a scar, as long as you take it easy the next few days.”

      That was a relief. He could deal with one more scar. It would be difficult, though, to do his work without full use of his arm.

      The doctor moved on to examine Nate’s shoulder and side. Nate did his best to bear the probing stoically and not show any signs of discomfort. Mainly because he didn’t want to make Mrs. Leggett feel any guiltier than she obviously already did.

      But a part of him admitted that he didn’t want to display weakness in front of her, either.

      Finally, Dr. Pratt straightened. “Well, your shoulder and ribs are bruised but not broken. That knot on your head is of some concern, but so far you aren’t exhibiting any signs of a concussion. Now I’m going to take care of suturing your arm before we take a look at your ankle.”

      Nate nodded. “Whatever you say.”

      Dr. Pratt gave him a considering look. “I think this will go better if you lie down on the table.”

      Without a word, Nate swiveled and swung his legs up on the table, then lay back. The doctor offered him a strip of leather to bite down on, but Nate shook his head. This wasn’t his first time to get stitched up, so he knew what to expect.

      Mrs. Leggett, who had quietly laid out the necessary implements, stood beside her uncle as he applied the stitches, ready to assist as needed.

      Nate kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling as the doctor went to work, refusing to utter so much as a whimper. But apparently he wasn’t as impassive as he would have liked, because about halfway through the procedure, Mrs. Leggett moved next to him and applied a cool cloth to his brow. Surprised by the action, he left off staring at the ceiling long enough to meet her gaze. She gave him an approving, sympathetic smile that somehow eased the pain of the procedure. A moment later she had slipped back into her less personal, bedside demeanor and returned to her uncle’s side.

      When at last Dr. Pratt was done, he straightened. “You can sit up now if you like,” he told Nate.

      Nate had to admit, if only to himself, that it hadn’t ended any too soon. It had taken all he had not to cry out a time or two. Only the fear that he would embarrass himself in front of Mrs. Leggett had kept him from doing so.

      The doctor glanced toward his niece as he helped Nate sit up. “Verity, would you take care of wrapping his arm for me?”

      “Of course.” She reached into a cabinet and pulled out a roll of gauzy-looking cloth.

      As she had out in the street earlier, she used her left hand to hold his arm with a gentle firmness while she wrapped the bandage around it with her right hand. She kept her eyes focused on her work so he was free to study her at will.

      Trying not to think too much about the warmth of her hand on his, he found himself fascinated by the lone wispy curl of hair that had escaped her otherwise tightly controlled hairstyle. It swayed and danced with her every movement, an incongruously playful counterpoint to her businesslike demeanor.

      His fingers actually itched with the desire to reach up and touch it, to let it curl around his finger and see if it felt as impossibly soft as it looked.

      Startled once again by the direction his thoughts had taken, he forced himself to look away and found Dr. Pratt watching him thoughtfully. He suddenly felt like a schoolboy caught in some mischief.

      A moment later, Mrs. Leggett was done and she stepped back and gave him a smile. “There. How’s that? Not too tight I hope.”

      “It’s fine, thank you.” Not that he would have complained even if it hadn’t been.

      Dr. Pratt moved closer. “Now let’s have a look at that ankle.” The older man studied it a moment without touching him, then looked back up. “My recommendation is that we cut the boot off. Otherwise, you’re going to find this much more than uncomfortable. And if your foot is broken it could cause even more damage.” He spread his hands. “But the choice is yours.”

      Nate frowned. He didn’t have the funds to spend on new footwear right now. And he was no stranger to pain. “Let’s give removing it whole a try first.”

      “Very well. If you change your mind once I get started, though, you just have to say the word.” He turned to his niece. “Verity, please stand

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