Page 18 of Choices of the Heart

Patrick was in the stables. “Where’re you off to, Burke?”

“I haven’t looked in on Mrs. Archer since she left the infirmary. I want to make certain she’s doing well.”

“Best make certain Miss Kingston’s doing well while you’re there.” Patrick tossed him a look that was a little too knowing and a lot too amused.

“She is not the one who was ill.”

“And yet, she’s the one you’ve mentioned the most the last two days.”

Burke led his horse from its stall. “She was very helpful with the Campo children.”

“So you’ve said.” Patrick never was one to let a chance to tease go to waste.

“I was grateful.”

“So you’ve said. Seems to me she’s caught your attention.”

Burke gave him what he intended to be an aridly dry look and received two hands held up in surrender as a reply.

“I’ve put a note on my door,” Burke said. “Should anyone come looking for me, send them to the Archer place.”

“And ifMiss Kingstoncomes looking for you? What should I do then?” So much for surrender.

“Keep your mouth shut, that’s what you should do.”

Patrick grinned and laughed unrepentantly. He was a good sort. Despite his tendency to badger, he and Eliza were the best of neighbors. Life might not have turned out exactly as Burke had imagined over the years, but it was far from terrible.

Dust kicked up behind the buggy as he set his horse to a trot in the direction of town. He didn’t think he’d ever grow tired of the view he had of the Hope Springs valley as he crested the hill separating it from the inn. Fields spread out in all directions dotted by farmhouses. The town itself boasted only three buildings, but they were rather picturesque. Compared to Chicago, it hardly counted as a town. But he liked it.

The Archer farm was the first one past the schoolhouse. It sat at the fork in the road, a wooden bridge to one side spanning the Hope Springs river.

Burke was shown inside by the housekeeper. Mrs. Archer was in the sitting room, dressed finer than anyone in Hope Springs ever was. The Archer home had always been neatly furnished and impressive. But having her there made it feel… intimidating.

“Burke.” Katie was in the sitting room as well and smiled as he approached. “’Tis a fine thing for you to look in on us.”

Emma sat among them. As was common for her, she simply smiled and kept her peace.

“Dr. Jones.” Mrs. Archer greeted him with a dip of her head.

“How are you feeling?” He set his bag on the desk beneath the nearby windows and moved the slat-back chair to face the settee.

“Much better, thank you.”

“Do you mind if I undertake a quick and unobtrusive evaluation?”

She shook her head. Even that minute gesture dripped with sophistication. How was it the well-to-do managed to make mundane things formidably elegant?

He took refuge in the knowledge that he was currently undertaking a task at which he was something of an expert. He had confidence in his abilities as a doctor, and that steadied him even when he felt terribly small.

He set his fingers on her wrist beneath her lace cuffs and studied her coloring, satisfied that she was neither overly pale nor flushed. The Irish in town were so naturally pale, he sometimes couldn’t be certain how they were feeling. Out on the ranches, the cowboys were, as was the case throughout Wyoming Territory, far more diverse. Many came from generations of Mexican equestrians. There were a significant number of Black cowboys. All the ranch hands and cattle runners worked hard and were frustratingly stubborn about seeking a doctor’s care when they needed it. He’d worked hard to earn their respect and trust. More than once, Burke had silently thanked the heavens that his time in Chicago had been spent in many different areas of the city, treating a wide variety of ailments, and coming to know a great many people. Too many doctors had only a narrow frame of reference and it cost far too many people their lives.

“Have you been eating as you normally do?” Burke asked Mrs. Archer.

“I have. And my body does not seem upset about it.”

“And have you been feverish?”

“I have not.”

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