Page 210 of Conveniently Wed
COWBOY GROOM BY LINDA FORD
1
LATE SUMMER, 1884. MONTANA TERRITORY
“Aunt Mary, you need help, and you need it now.” Twenty-three-year-old Bruce Reynolds pressed a hand to his burning insides. He hated to see his aunt in such agony.
“I’m a foolish old woman,” she said, her voice thin with pain. “Putting you to all this trouble.”
“You’ve never caused me trouble.” He stopped the wagon, jumped down to scoop his aunt into his arms, and crossed toward the house where he’d been told there was a woman who could provide medical help.
“I feel like a baby,” Aunt Mary murmured.
“You can’t walk on a broken leg.” She’d fallen from the wagon right into the fire. He’d torn the charred skirt and petticoat out of the way then covered the burns with a clean towel, not knowing what else he should do. When she tried to walk, they’d realized her leg was broken.
He reached the door and leaned forward to knock. And then he waited. Sounds came from inside. A child yelling. A pot banging. A door slamming. Yet no one answered the door.
Aunt Mary moaned, causing Bruce to grit his teeth. He’d take her pain if he could. He shifted her so he could rap harder.
“Ma,” a child yelled. “Someone’s here.” The door opened to reveal a boy of about five or six, with an untidy mop of brown hair and brown eyes brimming with curiosity. “Hi. Whatcha want?”
“Donny!” A woman hurried down the hall, clutching a heavy pot and a towel. Her wet hands indicated she had been washing the pot. “How many times have I told you to mind your manners?”
“Sorry, Ma.” He stepped back to allow the woman to take his place.
“It’s okay, son.”
Shock raced through Bruce’s veins. This woman didn’t look old enough to be married, let alone have a son that age. She had a fragility behind her calm expression that made him think she’d experienced her share of troubles and trials. The thought made him want to step closer and shield her from further hurt. He drew in a deep breath. Wouldn’t Aunt Mary be surprised by his reaction? She was always telling him he was too guarded.There are times you need to listen to your heart.
Look where listening to his heart had gotten him. Though the truth was, his troubles had come from trusting someone else’s heart.
The boy’s mother took in the woman in Bruce’s arms. “You’ve come to the right place. Right this way.”
He followed the young woman down the hall. Donny on his heels.
“What happened?” the boy asked.
His mother slowed. “Donny, please.”
“Yes, Ma.”
Bruce grinned at the boy. “Can’t help but be curious, can you? I understand.”
Donny beamed at him.
Bruce stepped into a living room.
“Put her on the sofa.” Donny’s mother put the pot and towel down on the nearest chair.
Bruce lowered Aunt Mary to the burgundy cushions, cringing at her moans. He turned to the nearby woman. “Mrs. Kinsley?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m as bad as Donny.” A low chuckle from the woman as she drew her son to her side. “I’m Mrs. Norwood, and this is my son, Donny. We are guests here. Mrs. Kinsley is busy with patients in the addition.”
Relief eased through Bruce’s brain. He’d hoped for someone more mature, more experienced than the woman before him. Regret followed on the heels of his relief. Having the young Mrs. Norwood attend his aunt held a certain appeal.
It seemed he hadn’t learned the lesson about listening to his head, not his heart, as well as he hoped.
Bruce gave his name and introduced Aunt Mary as Miss Rivers.
