The Lawman's Agreement (Entangled Scandalous) (2 page)

Chapter Two

Zack had barely unlocked his office when Beatrice Parker came through the front door less than ten steps behind him.

“Good morning, Marshal,” the young shop girl said.

“Good morning, Miss Parker. How can I help you today?”

“I was hoping I could interest you in a ticket to the upcoming box social a week from this Saturday. The tickets are free, of course, but then you bid on a lunch prepared by one of the young women of our community. The money will be used to support one of the church’s many causes.”

“I’d be happy to take a ticket, Miss Parker. However, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to attend.”

The young woman handed him the ticket. “My box lunch will include my nana’s famous shrimp salad,” she said, her tone begging his attention. “I’ll include some of my own oatmeal cookies for dessert.”

“It sounds delicious. If there’s nothing else—”

Zack’s attempt to gently remove himself from yet another unwanted show of attention was quickly interrupted when Deputy Stiles came through the door.

“Marshal, come quick,” Tom Stiles said. “There’s been an accident at the lumber mill. I’ve already told them at the livery to have your horse ready.”

Not bothering to excuse himself from Beatrice Parker’s company, Zack bounded out the door and toward the livery. Within minutes he was on his way out of town and headed toward the mill.

When Zack arrived at the mill the first thing he noticed was Suzanne Martindale’s buggy. He shook his head and cursed roundly beneath his breath. Didn’t the fool woman have enough sense to stay away from such a dangerous location?

He rounded the side of the building and came to a complete stop. There, in the middle of all the confusion, Suzanne had set up a treatment area, each small section occupied by an injured worker. As angry as he was at her for tempting injury herself, Zack set aside his displeasure and rushed to help.

“What can I do?” he asked, as he came to kneel beside where she worked.

“I believe they have everyone out of the danger area,” Suzanne confirmed. “I’m going to need you to help hold this man down while I straighten his arm and realign his shoulder.”

Zack met her serious gaze. “You’re going to do
what
?”

“He’s dislocated his shoulder.” Pointing to the unusual shape of the man’s collarbone, she said simply, “I’m going to pop it back into place, but I’ll need you to keep him still.”

“Marshal,” the injured man said weakly, “does she know what the hell she’s doing?”

“Yes, Seth, she does.” Zack forced a chuckle for the man’s benefit. “Now you just relax, and Doc Martindale will have you up and moving in no time.”

“I’m going to give you a bit of laudanum to ease the pain,” Suzanne explained.

“I’d rather a shot of whiskey, Doc.”

“I’m sure you would. However, the laudanum will last longer.”

She spooned up a portion of the sedative and gave it to the man. When Seth’s eyelids began to flutter closed, Zack asked, “Is he ready?”

“Yes, this is as sedated as he’ll get on the laudanum, so we should move fast.”

“What do you need me to do?” Zack asked.

“Place his good arm to his side so that you can hold pressure on his arm and that side of his body at the same time. Then, use your free hand to hold down against his chest, not too hard, just enough to keep him from jumping up.”

Zack placed his hands where Suzanne indicated, and she dropped to the ground beside the man, hiked up her long skirt, placed her foot beneath his armpit, and grasped his wrist in her hands.

“Are you ready, Doc?” Zack asked. He looked down at where Seth lay and couldn’t help but feel a moment of trepidation at the unusual treatment.

As if she could read his thoughts, Suzanne said softly, “Zack, look at me.”

He looked up and met her gaze. The moment she had his attention, he felt the tug of Seth Abrams’ body when Suzanne wrenched his shoulder back into place. The man cried out and tried to raise himself up but, as instructed, Zack held him in place.

Suzanne smiled softly, and Zack was overwhelmed with a rush of sheer appreciation for Suzanne’s skill and compassion.

“Seth,” Suzanne said gently. “I’m finished. Your shoulder’s back in place. I’m going to give you another spoonful of laudanum to take the edge off the pain, and then the marshal is going to move you over to the back of the wagon. We’ll take you to the hospital and have you rest there overnight.”

“Where are you going next?” Zack asked.

Suzanne raised herself from the dirt, brushed off her skirt and headed to her next patient. “There’s a man with a cut to his side. I’m going to check and see if it can be bandaged well enough to get him back to the hospital or if I have to stitch him up here.”

The rest of the morning was filled with one patient after another, six men in total and each requiring some form of the doctor’s expertise. The mill’s owner, William McLeary, seemed genuinely perplexed by the failure of his safety measures.

“Honest, Marshal,” McLeary said, “we inspected those support beams just the other day. There’s no reason the wall of that delivery shaft should have collapsed.”

“I’ll help Dr. Martindale get these three men situated at the hospital, and then I’ll be back. My deputy will make sure nobody touches anything until we have a chance to go over the site together.”

“I’ll have my men sort through the lumber on the other side of the yard and set aside what’s still usable. We’ll stay away from the damaged wall until you return.”

Once Suzanne had supervised the loading of the last three injured men into the back of the lumber mill’s supply wagon, Zack motioned for one of the workers to start toward town. Suzanne followed in her buggy.

“I’ll ride ahead,” he told her, pulling up next to her. “I’ll make sure Doc Miller is there to help, as well as one of the nurses.”

“Thank you, Marsh…Zack,” she said, catching herself at the last minute. “You were an enormous help back there.”

Zack nodded his head but didn’t comment. Putting his heels to the big animal’s side, he urged the horse into a gallop and headed toward town.

…

Nearly an hour later, Suzanne finished with the last of her patients. She was about to make one last inspection of Seth Abrams’ shoulder when the sound of heavy footsteps drew her attention away from her patient. From the corner of her eye, she could see Zack standing in the doorway, his hands braced against the frame.

“What the devil were you thinking?” he bellowed.

Suzanne calmly set aside the basin of water and medical supplies she’d used to stitch up the gash in Jimmy Watson’s side and turned to face a rather livid Marshal McCade. “Excuse me?” she said.

“Why would you purposely put yourself in harm’s way by going out to the accident site? You should have waited, and we would have brought the injured men to you.”

Suzanne grabbed hold of the front of Zack’s vest and pulled him into the hallway just outside the men’s hospital ward. In a barely controlled voice, she told him, “Mr. Watson wouldn’t have survived the trip into town if I hadn’t put in temporary sutures at the accident site. And, Seth Abrams would have been in agony for the entire trip.”

“You could have been hurt,” Zack said more softly this time. Suzanne suspected his anger had cooled somewhat with her explanation.

“It’s not like I went inside the building,” she reminded him. “I waited until the men were brought out before I started my treatment.”

“Yes, I suppose there is that,” Zack conceded. “Just promise me you won’t do anything so foolhardy again.”

“I can’t make that promise, Zack. I have a job to do, same as you, and sometimes it includes a risk.”

“Have I ever told you how stubborn you are?” he asked. Much to her chagrin, his temper seemed to be on the rise yet again.

“Repeatedly,” she said. “And, as I told you each of the other times, you’re not my keeper, Zack. I need to do whatever’s best for my patients.”

…

The following morning Suzanne arrived at the clinic shortly before nine. Her first appointment for the day was one of her maternity patients, Millicent Green. “Come on back to the exam room, Millie,” Suzanne said. “Let’s see how you’re doing today.”

Suzanne helped the six-month pregnant Millie onto the exam table. Once the woman was lying down, she asked, “Dr. Martindale, is there any way to tell for sure that this baby will be okay?”

“I read Doc Miller’s notes about your last pregnancy. I understand there were many complications. I don’t expect that to happen this time. The baby is growing—“

“Excuse me, Doc,” a man’s voice sounded from the other side of the privacy curtain.

Suzanne laid a reassuring hand to Millie’s shoulder, and told her, “I’ll be right back.” Stepping out from behind the curtain, she approached Seth Abrams. “Mr. Abrams, how can I help you?”

“I wanted to bring you this gift,” the man said.

“I’m with a patient right now. I appreciate the gesture, I really do, but I can’t spare the time at the moment.”

Seth stretched out his hand and offered her a wood carving of a bird. “I made it myself, this morning. My arm and shoulder’s as good as new, and I thought I’d best make you a gift for fixing me up.”

Suzanne didn’t want to hurt the man’s feelings, but needed to shoo him away. “I really have to get back to my patient, Mr. Abrams. I do appreciate your generosity. If you’d like you can leave it on the desk, or you’re welcome to come back later when clinic hours are over.”

“I’d like to take you to dinner tonight too, at Miss Maribell’s, if you’ve not got any plans.”

Suzanne shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I do have things to do tonight and I
really
have to get back to my patient.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding his head but making no move to leave. “I’ll call back later to see if we can make other arrangements.”

Suzanne meant to refuse his invitation but thought better of it. Turning him down outright would only prolong his leaving, and she wanted desperately to get back to Millie and her concern over her unborn child. “We’ll talk later, Mr. Abrams.”

Seth Abrams tipped his hat and nodded, turning at last to leave the exam area.

“Sorry,” Suzanne said when she went back to Millie’s side.

“You’re a popular lady, Doc. No wonder the men of Greenville follow you around with a sad puppy dog look in their eyes. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re smart.”

“Thank you for the compliments, both of them, but all I’m really interested in is being the best doctor I can be for all my patients. Now, let’s get a listen to the baby’s heartbeat.”

Suzanne reached for the Pinard horn, laid it against Millie’s belly and waited for the heartbeat to settle into a steady rhythm.

“What is that thing?” Millie asked. “It looks like my uncle Joe’s handmade flute.”

Suzanne chuckled. “Close. It’s called a Pinard horn and was named after the man who invented it for the sole purpose of listening to an unborn child’s heartbeat. I brought it with me from New York.” She shifted the horn slightly to the left, repositioning it further down Millie’s swollen belly.

“Well?” Millie asked, clearly impatient for Suzanne’s assessment.

“As strong as a drum, I’d say,” Suzanne confirmed.

Suzanne sighed deeply. It was moments like these that made her happy to have chosen medicine as her profession. She thought briefly of the slight interruption, of Seth Abrams’ excitement at giving her a gift, and wondered how she’d squash this latest round of unwanted attention.

It had been that way since she’d arrived in Greenville, one prospective suitor after another doing their best to win her favor. She didn’t have time for them; she only had time for her patients. And as lonely a prospect as that seemed to be, it was a sacrifice she would willingly make in order to become the best physician possible.

Chapter Three

Her morning rounds complete, Suzanne took a seat in her office, intent on catching up on some much needed paperwork. Doc Miller, her predecessor, was a wonderful physician. Yet, like most of the older doctors of her acquaintance, not the neatest or most succinct when keeping patient records. Over the past few months, she’d spent a good portion of her free time creating files for the many patients both she and Doc Miller treated.

She’d barely gathered the first of three batches of loose notes into her hands, when the front door opened, the tiny bell affixed to the top ringing sharply.

“Hello,” Suzanne called out.

“Doc, you gotta come quick,” the young boy shouted.

Suzanne grabbed her medical bag and ran toward the front of the clinic. Tommy O’Hara stood at the door, holding it open for her to go through.

“What is it?” she asked. “Is it your mother, or one of the children?” Suzanne spared a quick thought for her very first patient after arriving in Greenville, Tommy’s younger brother James.

“No, it’s Billy Davidson. He and Todd were wrestling around, pretending to fight and slashing at each other with their pocket knives. Todd tripped and fell on Billy; stabbed him right in the gut.”

“Where is he?” she asked, moving as fast as she could to keep up with Tommy.

“Over there behind the mercantile.”

Suzanne rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt in front of the supine Billy. He’d pressed his hand to his middle; blood seeped through his fingers.

“Where’s Todd?” she asked, kneeling in the dirt to get her first look at Billy’s injury.

“He got scared,” Billy said, his voice cracking under the pain. “He ran off.”

Suzanne looked up at Tommy, and told him, “Go and get the marshal.”

“It was an accident,” Billy insisted. “He didn’t mean it.”

Suzanne laid her hand against the young boy’s forehead, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes. “I know that. However, the marshal should be told about the accident.”

“But why?” Tommy asked.

“Because it involved a weapon, first of all, and because we want him to find Todd before the boy does himself any harm over his guilt or his fear of being in trouble.” When Tommy hesitated, she looked up at him and said firmly, “Now, go, and don’t dillydally.”

“Am I going to die?” Billy asked as Suzanne pressed a clean compress to his wound.

“No, of course not,” she assured him. “I need to get you cleaned up a bit so I can see how deeply the knife has penetrated your skin.” Reaching for a bottle of antiseptic, she told him, “This might sting a bit, but it will help wash away the blood and germs.”

“It’s okay, Doc,” Billy said, putting a brave face. “I’m not scared.”

Suzanne had barely finished disinfecting the wound when Zack rounded the corner and knelt at her side.

“How’s he doing?” Zack asked.

“He’ll be fine. I could use your help getting him back to the clinic,” she said. “Then you need to find Todd.”

Zack chuckled and told them, “You don’t have to worry about Todd. He already gave himself up, claimed he’d killed his best friend and asked me to arrest him.”

“You can’t arrest him, Marshal,” Billy pleaded. “It was an accident. Honest.”

“I’m not actually going to arrest him, Billy. I left him to think about what’d he’d done so I could come and help the doc get you over to the clinic.”

Once Suzanne finished dressing Billy’s wound, Zack lifted the boy into his arms and started toward the clinic. Suzanne gathered up her medical bag and followed closely behind, scooting ahead of them to open the door.

“Put him in the exam room,” she told Zack. “I want to get his shirt off and clean him up a bit more so I can assure myself the knife did no serious damage.”

“Is there anything else you need me to do?” Zack asked.

“No, other than to let Billy’s parents know what happened.”

“I’ve already sent a deputy to get them,” Zack assured her. “I need to get back to the jail and let Todd out.”

Suzanne could feel her protective instincts rising at the thought of the marshal actually locking up a ten-year-old boy. “You didn’t really lock him in a cell, did you?”

Again, Zack chuckled. “Yes, I did. After he told me what had happened, I figured it would be a good lesson for him about the dangers of playing with knives, even small pocket ones.”

Suzanne breathed an audible sigh of relief. “I have a feeling the sight of his best friend’s blood was all he needed to see.” When Zack hesitated, she shooed him away. “Now get out of here, and let that poor boy out of jail.”

Zack doffed his hat and grinned. “Yes ma’am, whatever you say.” Leaning closer to where Billy lay on the cot, he told the boy, “Don’t give the doc any trouble, or I’ll lock you up too.”

“Yes sir,” Billy said solemnly. “You’ve got my word, Marshal.”

Little more than an hour later, Billy’s parents were taking him home, his mother doting over her injured son, his father threatening to take him to the woodshed for such foolishness. They’d barely closed the door behind them when Zack walked in.

“So, he’s on the mend?” Zack asked.

“Yes,” Suzanne confirmed. “He’ll be a bit sore for a couple of days but should be outside wrestling with his friends in no time.”

“Good,” Zack said.

“How’s Todd?”

“A bit shaken up, but not so much that he couldn’t eat a half dozen or so cookies while he waited for his pa to fetch him.”

“Cookies?”

“Yeah, we have a steady supply of them in the office.”

“Gifts from your many admirers, I presume,” Suzanne said, turning her back to him to return to the task of cleaning up the exam area.

Zack crossed the room to pick up a vase of fresh flowers from the corner of the table. “And these?” he said, hoisting the flowers up to eye level. “You pick them yourself?”

Suzanne’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment.

“No, they were a gift,” she admitted, “from Malcolm Wilson.”

“And the box of chocolates I saw yesterday on the corner of your desk?” Zack prompted.

“Frank Sims.”

“Malcolm Wilson is old enough to be your father,” Zack pointed out, adding, “and Sims, hell he’s young enough to be your son or mine.”

“I beg your pardon? Just how old do you think I am?”

Rather than respond to her question, Zack said, “It would seem, Doctor Martindale, both you and I are experiencing the same, shall we say, problems when it comes to erstwhile suitors.”

“Problems?” Suzanne asked, fully aware of what he was getting at but not liking the direction of the conversation.

“We’re both new to Greenville. Yet, in the short span of a few months we’ve both attracted the unwanted advances of at least half the unmarried population. I know I have no interest in any of these women.” Pausing for barely a heartbeat, he asked, “Can I assume you feel the same way about their male counterparts?”

Suzanne nodded, then raised her head to meet his stare. “Just once,” she admitted, “I’d like to walk down the street without tripping over some young man who’s bound and determined to get my attention.”

“I think I may have a solution, if you’re game?”

“Somehow, Marshal, I can’t picture anything involving you as a game.”

“Do you want to hear my idea, or not?” Zack’s voice was filled with what sounded suspiciously like impatience.

“Sure,” she told him. “I haven’t had a good laugh in a few hours.”

Zack set aside the vase of flowers he held and closed the distance between them, his gaze darkly menacing. Suzanne had the urge to backpedal a few steps, but she was already within inches of the wall and out of room to retreat.

When he’d come to stand before her, Zack raised his hand and tilted her chin up with the tips of his fingers. His intense gaze bore into her; through her.

“
Cher
, despite your saucy sense of humor, I’m prepared to make you an offer you’ll not want to refuse.”

Suzanne’s pulse picked up speed, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly moving from flower to flower. A picture of the two of them entwined in a lover’s embrace shot like lightning through her thoughts.

“And this offer,” her words catching on the quick breath she drew when he stroked his thumb across her lips. “What, exactly would it entail?”

“An agreement,” he said, “an engagement actually.”

“An engagement?” she repeated, certain she’d heard him incorrectly. “To you?”

“You say that as if I’m the bottom of the barrel,
cher
.”

“Not the bottom, Marshal, by any means. It’s just that I have no intention of becoming engaged to anyone, especially someone who doesn’t embrace my need for independence.”

“It’s not that I don’t understand your need to be independent,
cher
. It’s just that you’re so stubborn about accepting any type of gentlemanly assistance. Hell, you darned near broke my toe the other day in your race to open your own door.”

“That was an accident. And we weren’t racing, I just didn’t want to wait while you finished your conversation with your deputy. However, that’s a moot point. As I said, I have no intention of becoming engaged…to anyone.”

“Obviously it wouldn’t be a real engagement,” Zack said, choosing to discuss his plan rather than respond to her comment regarding a need for independence. “We’d just tell everyone we’re engaged. Hell, I’ll even get you a ring to make it look official.”

“But, what if you or I were to meet someone—”

“If that were to happen, we’d break off our engagement, amicably of course, leaving the other free to pursue their new love interest.”

Suzanne sidestepped away from him and moved to the opposite corner of the room.

Shaking her head, she told him, “I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, who’s going to believe we’ve fallen in love? We haven’t even courted.”

“I suppose we could do that, I mean, pretend and all.”

“And pray tell how do you pretend to court someone, Marshal?” she asked.

“We could take long walks, or go on a picnic,” Zack suggested. “Listen, I know I’ve not worked it all out yet, but it’s not a bad idea.”

“No, it’s not a bad idea,” she said. “It’s a ridiculous one.”

The menacing look was back, and Suzanne said a silent prayer of gratitude for the distance between them.

“So, having to fend off dozens of men is preferable to pretending to be engaged to me?”

She could see his male pride had suffered a blow, and Suzanne was ashamed for having been so blunt. “Listen, Zack,” she said, her use of his Christian name seeming to ease his anger, lighten his scowl. “It’s not that it’s a bad idea, or even a ridiculous idea, it’s just I don’t see anyone actually believing it. I mean, usually, for two people to even begin to court, there has to be some sort of physical attraction.”

Engrossed in her speech, Suzanne didn’t notice Zack’s approach until he stood before her. As he’d done before, he tilted her chin up with the lightest touch of his fingers.

“I agree. Physical attraction is important.” The words had barely crossed his lips when he lowered his head and captured her mouth in a kiss.

The butterfly in Suzanne’s stomach changed, suddenly, from a gentle insect into a hummingbird, the increased speed and incessant flapping of its wings threatening her very sanity. When Zack finally ended the kiss and raised his head, it took a moment before she was able to regroup her thoughts.

“I’m still not convinced…” She faltered, his laughter derailing her train of thought yet again.

“
Cher
, if it takes another dozen kisses to convince you, I’d be happy to oblige as long as you eventually agree.”

He took another step forward, and Suzanne held up her hand to halt his progress. She desperately needed to escape the sensual hold he’d taken on her senses.

“That’s not what I meant,” she told him. “What I meant to say was I’m still not certain we could convince the entire town we were serious.”

“Come here,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the closest chair. Pushing her gently into the seat, he sat down beside her and took her hands into his. “If you think about it, we do have a few things in common.”

“Such as?”

“We’re both originally from Louisiana. My family’s in New Orleans, your extended one’s in Baton Rouge. Even though you’ve not lived there since you were a child, it is still your hometown.”

“I suppose there is that,” she conceded.

Zack tightened his grasp on her hand and met her gaze. “I’m not asking for anything more than a ruse. All I want is to do my job and not have to worry about fending off the cookie brigade.”

“And,” she added, somewhat grudgingly, “I’d like nothing better than the uninterrupted time to devote to my medical practice.”

“Why don’t we give courting a try? Not for real, mind you. We can take a buggy out for a drive. You can sit under a tree and read one of your medical books, and I’ll go fishing. Then, when I drop you off, I’ll give you a hug or maybe a little peck on the cheek, the perfect gentleman.”

“It shouldn’t take more than a few dates, I suppose,” she thought aloud, warming to the idea. “If it seems like everyone believes us, we might not even have to say we were engaged.”

Zack shrugged then explained, “If we don’t progress past dating, we might be leaving the field open for speculation, give one of the fellows or ladies the idea we’re not serious. The only way to truly stop the unwanted attention is to play the engagement card.”

One last thought occurred to her, one more important than all her other concerns. “What about your family?” she asked. “Surely we can tell them of the ruse.”