LITMIR.BIZ

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was wrong, Ellie, and don’t you forget it.” His tone was mild, but the look he bent in her direction was stern. His hand touched her arm, a gentle nudge that made her look up. “Women may get the short end of the stick when it comes to keeping a house in order and providing for the needs of her family, but it’s a man’s obligation to make her life as easy as he can. And that includes those to whom he pays a wage.”

      And wasn’t that a different way of looking at things? Ellie thought with a start. That a man should be concerned about a woman’s well-being was a concept she’d never heard voiced. And yet, that seemed to be what Winston Gray was talking about.

      She washed up the dinner things after he left for the saloon, his final words of instruction spoken as he walked out the door.

      “Prop open the kitchen door and listen for the front door, Ellie. If patients come in, tell them I’ll be back directly. They can wait in the outer office for me.” He stuck his head back in the door. “If you have time, make a list of them as they come in and I’ll take them in order.”

      So it was she came to be sitting at the small desk in his waiting room an hour later, talking to a young mother who held one sick child while Ellie amused another. Win’s brow rose and a grin curved his mouth as he caught her eye. “Send my first patient in, will you, Miss Mitchum?”

      “Yes, sir,” she said agreeably, rising to settle the small girl on her chair as she picked up her list. “Mr. Taylor, you can go in now.”

      The room held only three remaining patients as Win leaned through the office door more than an hour later. “I can finish up now, if you need to see to supper,” he told her quietly. And Ellie escaped thankfully to the kitchen, aware of the curious eyes that had watched her for the whole of the afternoon. No one had questioned her, yet all had paid her mind, and she felt she’d been on display, sitting behind the desk, calling out names, and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

      The potatoes were ready for the oven and she placed them around the piece of beef she’d put in the roasting pan earlier. Carrots swam in the broth, and two onions sent a savory aroma upward as she opened the oven door. By the time the table was set, the last patient had taken his leave, and Win joined her in the kitchen.

      “You were a big help, Ellie,” he told her, washing at the sink, his shirtsleeves rolled above his elbows. “I don’t usually have so many patients in an afternoon. I think they made up for yesterday.” He peered over her shoulder as she stirred flour and water into the pan, watching as it thickened into gravy. “You’ll have me spoiled.”

      She felt a warmth take hold of her, and she turned her head to look up at him. “I think it would be a joy to spoil you, Dr. Gray.” And then she looked away, flustered at the words she’d spoken without forethought.

      A flush crawled up his jaw and centered on his cheekbones. “Thank you. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time.” He turned away and sat at the table. “I saw the girl at the saloon, Ellie. I thought seriously about bringing her here for you to tend, but she didn’t want to leave her friends there.” He glanced up at her. “I didn’t know if it would be the right thing to do, anyway. I wouldn’t want folks to talk about having her here with you.”

      “What would they say?” she asked, dishing up the meat and vegetables with ease. Placing the platter before him, she poured the gravy into a deep bowl. “If a woman’s been hurt, what does it matter who she is? If she needs taking care of, I reckon I can do it.”

      “I thought you’d feel that way,” he said, dishing up food onto his plate. “But Cilla said she’d be all right, and the other girls will look out for her. I told Sheriff Kincaid about the ranch hand who hurt her, and I believe he’ll handle it. Not that most folks would think much of it.”

      “What can he do?” Ellie asked, sitting down across the table from him.

      Win shrugged. “Not an awful lot. Just warn him to behave himself. I don’t think Cam will let the fella in the place again anyway.”

      Ellie took up her fork. “Did he hit her?”

      “It wasn’t so much that, Ellie,” Win said slowly. “Billy’s set on stealing money that’s hidden in the foundation of the addition to the saloon. He made the mistake of telling Cilla about it, and then decided he’d better convince her not to spill the beans about his plan to anyone else.” His mouth was taut as he paused, as if he chose his words carefully. “Don’t repeat what I just told you, Ellie. Cilla told me in confidence and I probably shouldn’t have repeated it, but I’m certain I can trust you.”

      His head bent as he spoke and Ellie remembered Tess’s words. There’s men who don’t care how they use a woman. What Tess had meant, Ellie wasn’t sure, but good sense prevented her from asking Win. Maybe it was like when Tommy had hurt her, that day in the barn. She’d bled, and ached something awful for a couple of days, as if there was something all torn up way inside of her.

      “Do any of those women have babies?” she asked quietly.

      “Babies?” Win sounded surprised. “I doubt it, Ellie. At least, not that I’ve ever heard about. Those girls pretty much know how to prevent such things from happening.”

      And wasn’t that a puzzle. If Tommy had given her a baby from his shenanigans that day, it made sense that… She halted that line of thought and bent low over her plate. There were things she needed to be asking Tess, that was for sure, and one of these days, she’d get up the nerve.

      For the first time in months, Winston Gray went to bed with a full stomach and the sure knowledge that a good breakfast would be awaiting him in the morning. He grinned to himself as he lay in the center of the big bed, his hands stacked beneath his head. Ellie was working out well. His house was clean, his pantry organized, and she was planning on using a scrub board to do his clothes, first thing tomorrow.

      She’d washed her hair in the new bucket after supper, out on the back porch where she couldn’t be seen by those who might pass the house, and he’d watched from the doorway as she dried it with his newest towel. Her hands had been adept, brushing the length of soft, brown silken strands, then braiding them in a simple plait that hung down her back.

      The sight bothered him, setting up a yearning he tried his best to dismiss. A woman was the last thing he needed in his life right now, what with his practice taking up all his time.

      But, Ellie was proving to be a complication. She felt grateful to him, trying her best to make his life an easier path, and his very masculine self could not help but wallow in the attention she gave.

      That her soft eyes rested on him often was a fact he tried diligently to ignore. That his own gaze focused on her at times was to be expected. She was a lovely woman, a girl really, he decided. Pregnant though she was, she projected an aura of innocence that brought forth his male urge to protect and cherish.

      And those thoughts needed to be banished, he decided abruptly, rising from the bed to stalk to the window. Ellie Mitchum was his housekeeper, and he’d do well to look upon her as a servant. His snort of laughter was swallowed as amusement followed that thought. She was like no servant he’d ever come in contact with, and there’d been plenty of them in his life.

      None of them had followed him to bed at night, as had the woman who slept overhead. Not in physical form, certainly, but in his mind. And she’d only been here for two days. He shifted restlessly, stretching one long arm to rest against the window frame.

      Taking Ellie Mitchum into his home had been a hasty decision. Taking her into his life would surely follow. Already, she was keeping him awake and on the edge of arousal.

      His mind spun as he considered the state of his body. Damn. Having a woman in his bed was the last thing he needed to be thinking of.

      Visiting the saloon today had given him access to several women, any of whom would welcome him into their presence. All but poor Cilla, that victim of a cowhand whose idea of persuasion involved brutality.

      Ellie

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