Page 30 of Brian and Cora
With a cry of joy, Constance picked up her skirts and ran to him, throwing herself into his embrace. She started to cry.
“Now, now, Hen.” Dr. Angus gently patted her back. “Dinnae fash yerself. I’m fine, Mo ghràdh. I promise.” He held her tight.
She raised her tearstained face, and they kissed.
Brian knew from Hank’s acquaintance with the man that the doctor tended to be a kind, although reserved, Scot. So, to see him melt into public demonstrativeness made a lump form in his throat.
Uncomfortable with the feeling, he swallowed and made himself mentally step back to catalogue the scene, wishing he could pull out the notebook and pencil, safely tucked in the saddlebags in the foot of the wagon bed.
Elsie left Hank’s side to rush over to Brian. She went on tiptoe to lean over the side of the wagon and bussed a kiss on his cheek. “You have no idea how good it is to see you! We’ve worried and prayed and prayed and worried!”
Years had passed since anyone outside of Hank, Torin, and Jewel had cared about him, and the hard shell around his heart softened a bit. “I’m fine,” he told her with a genuine smile. “Thank you for caring.”
Hank walked over to join her, clasping a hand on Brian’s shoulder and squeezing, before studying him with solemn eyes.
“I’m fine,” Brian repeated, this time a little more testily to hide any hint of the tenderness in his chest.
“Better than when last I saw you. Same bad temper, though.” Hank winked, took back Zeus’s reins, and held out his hand to Elsie.
She grasped Hank’s hand, looking up at him with an expression of adoration on her face.
He smiled tenderly down at her.
Their exchange gave Brian a pinch of envy, which he quickly repressed. He’d tried love once before, learned his lesson, and wasn’t about to take the risk again.
Dr. Angus loosened his embrace of Constance enough to glance over at his two patients. Apparently satisfied, he nodded for Seth to go ahead and reached out a hand for Zeus’s reins. He crooked his arm for Constance, and the two set out, the horse trailing them.
A safe distance behind, Hank walked hand-in-hand with Elsie, bouncing along beside him. The various people from the Thompson ranch flowed around the other side of the wagon. The plan was for them to stop at Dr. Cameron’s office for a final check of their wounds before Buck would travel on to the Thompsons’ ranch and Brian to Three Bend Lake.
As they reached the corner for the turn into town, everyone moved farther from the wagon to allow Seth to draw ahead and navigate. The chatter of his friends, as well as that of the Thompson party, kept Brian from realizing anything unusual was happening until he heard happy shouts and an uproar of voices. What the…?
With a clear view down Main Street, he sucked in a sharp breath. Once again, Seth drew in the horses, probably just as stunned as Brian. Sweetwater Springs looked like a parade on the Fourth of July. Seemed as if everyone for miles around came to line each side of the roadway.
“Well, I’ll be a naked monkey,” Buck said with a moon-faced grin. “Are they here for us?”
“Naked monkey is right,” Brian drawled in astonishment.
Hank, backtracking with Elsie to stand by Brian, caught the exchange. He chuckled. “You two are the whole dang circus.”
Brian groaned from a different kind of pain this time.
Seth flicked the reins, and the wagon ambled along the street.
People yelled out greetings, best wishes, and their thanks. Men waved their hats and women fluttered handkerchiefs. A few were even crying. The townsfolk threw flowers before them into the street and tossed bouquets into the wagon.
There weren’t a lot of blooms to be had this time of year. But Brian recognized marigolds and chrysanthemums, often surrounded by colorful autumn leaves. The spicy-sweet scent wafted around them.
Thank goodness, palm trees don’t grow in Montana, or they’d be laying down palm branches like with Jesus riding the donkey into Jerusalem.
As much as Brian wanted to sink down into the straw, pull the blanket over his head, and hide, he couldn’t help feeling some part of his curmudgeonly heart be moved by the expressions of both joy and relief.
Next to him, Buck lapped up the attention like a starving dog given a bowl of milk. He smiled and waved his good arm, playing to the crowd, saying, “Thank you, darling,” to any female from a young girl to a tottering old lady who called out, smiled through their tears, or blew him kisses.
During their convalescence at the Flannigan homestead, he and Buck once observed an intimate moment between Seth and Trudy—more of loving energy between them, how their bodies inclined toward each other, a look in their eyes—than any outwardly physical gesture.
“I want that.” Buck’s tone had held longing. “Not just a wife, but one I will tenderly adore until my bones are too old and brittle to hug her without breaking her in half and my arms falling off.”
“What a romantic image,” he’d growled in response.
