The Lady Who Lived Again. Thomasine Rappold
Maddie yanked back her hand. “My name is Madeline Sutter, and I can do that myself.”
With a frown, he relinquished the cloth and let her proceed with the task.
“I’m Jace Merrick, Miss Sutter. I’ve taken over Doctor Filmore’s practice in town now that he’s retired.”
The news surprised her. Doctor Filmore was eighty years old, if he was a day, and she’d always assumed he would die wearing his stethoscope. She was equally surprised by the youthful mien of Filmore’s replacement. And by this new physician’s obvious appetite for hunting. Weren’t doctors supposed to be devoted to preserving life? Not that Doctor Filmore had gone out of his way to preserve hers. He’d pronounced her dead for God’s sake. She slapped the cloth between her palms.
“It’s about time that old fool retired,” she muttered.
Pushing her disdain for the elderly doctor aside, she focused on the man before her. Jace Merrick possessed a palpable confidence, but dressed as he was, he didn’t look like a doctor. His brown trousers were tucked into large boots, and a green flannel shirt peeked out from his open tweed coat.
And yet, even in his casual hunter’s uniform, the man was impressive. The words ruggedly appealing sprang to mind. He stood taller than most, surely taller than Daniel. Doctor Merrick’s build was broader than Daniel’s as well. A twinge of longing fluttered in the pit of her belly.
The queer sensation took Maddie aback. She straightened her spine, steeling herself against her attraction to the handsome stranger. As she knew only too well, a man in the medical profession could destroy her. The doctor’s stern voice snapped Maddie out of her reverie.
“Wild animals can be dangerous, Miss Sutter. Especially when they’re wounded. You were fortunate in this instance, but I’d advise you against taking such risks in the future.”
“I appreciate your advice, Doctor Merrick, and I have some for you.” She took a step toward him. “There is no hunting allowed on Sutter land, so please do your murdering elsewhere.” She finished wiping her hands, then handed him back the bloodstained handkerchief. “Now take your belongings and get off my property.”
* * * *
Jace blinked, staring at the woman. Whatever he’d done to earn her hostility, he’d obviously done it well.
“This is your property?”
“My family owns twelve acres. Hunting is restricted on all of it.” Her spine stiffened like a broomstick. Beneath her simple straw bonnet, wisps of dark hair fringed her pretty face. Specks of hazel and gold sparked in her brown eyes, along with an annoying tinge of righteous indignation. “My grandfather makes exceptions in cases of necessity only.” She eyed him from head to toe. “Since there are several eating establishments in town, and you’re clearly not starving, you can pursue your sport elsewhere.”
“In my defense, Miss Sutter, this hunt was necessary.”
“Is that so?”
His business was none of her concern, but the challenge in her skeptical tone got the best of him. “Your elderly neighbor, Mrs. Tremont, is a patient of mine. Her weight has dropped drastically, and her appetite continues to wane.”
Her smug tone faded. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she muttered, looking genuinely distressed.
“The woman has a craving for fresh venison. I apologize for trespassing, but I intend to provide it.”
She lowered her eyes, and Jace couldn’t help enjoying her contrite response.
“Had you not intervened with my deer, I’d have no reason to dally here. On your property,” he added, just for the hell of it.
“Well, don’t let me keep you,” she snapped. “Good luck with Mrs. Tremont.” Her hard look softened again, as did the harshness in her voice. “Please send her my regards.”
With a lift of her chin, she collected her market basket from where it sat beside a log, then hurried away. Jace stared after her, absorbing the view. She held her head high, her stance rigid and aloof. Her frame was small but curvaceous, possessing the perfect measure of female proportions. Ample breasts, narrow waist, pleasing backside.
Of course, one had to get past the bloodstained dress to appreciate what lay beneath, but as a doctor who’d seduced dozens of nurses whose aprons were soaked with far worse, this posed no problem for Jace. Her slender form moved swiftly as she made her way down the path through the field, but her pace was slowing. He detected a slight limp in her gait, though from this distance, he couldn’t be sure.
“Madeline Sutter,” he mumbled, shaking his head. What kind of woman went about pulling arrows from dying deer?
Jace had met some odd people during the month since he’d arrived in town, but he’d yet to meet anyone like Miss Sutter. Dragging his gaze from the fading view of her, he squatted before the patch of blood in the grass where his deer had fallen.
From the amount of blood and crimson color, Jace agreed with Miss Sutter’s assessment of the situation. The animal was certain to bleed to death before getting far. It had to be dead on its feet to have allowed her anywhere near it, let alone remove the arrow. How it summoned the stamina to move on, Jace hadn’t a clue, but he knew it would bed down in dense cover as soon as it could. Like any diligent hunter, Jace was obligated to recover it.
He reexamined the arrow. The hair attached was coarse, dark gray with dark tips, and two or so inches long. This evidence indicated a perfect kill shot behind the shoulder, not in the gut, as the girl had claimed.
With a shake of his head, Jace stood, preparing to track the deer. He would find out the truth soon enough, though with a wounded deer, one could never be certain as to how soon that might be. Mrs. Tremont was in dire need of protein. Since the old woman had no husband or sons, Jace would do what he must to provide it.
It had taken only one house call to discover that the duties of the country doctor entailed catering to each patient on a more personal level than was possible with the human wreckage he’d treated at Pittsburgh Hospital. Although his office had yet to open officially, he already knew the hell of the emergency ward—and the endless misery that flowed through its wide double doors—was a stark contrast to a small-town practice. He could make a real difference in Misty Lake, and not just to the wealthy summer visitors. Here he’d have the time to focus on each patient case without the patch-them-up-and-ship-them-out approach of the hospital. The change would be just what he needed to replenish his spirit from the toll of the daily tragedy that had sucked him dry.
Inhaling deeply, he forged past the memory of his internship in the city and the suffocating despair that came along with it. The pine-scented breeze coursed through his senses, anchoring him back to the present. The beauty of his current surroundings lifted his mood. There was nothing like a walk in the woods and reconnecting with nature to remind him that he was alive.
Perhaps if he’d found some comparable diversion from his rote existence in the city, he might have fared better there. Not that it mattered now. He’d made a decision to build a practice in the country, and he intended to succeed come hell or high water. Even so, he knew that, as a stranger, he should expect some initial hostility and skepticism from Misty Lake’s residents. Miss Sutter had merely acted upon the resentment that a lot of her neighbors were nursing privately.
Swatting at a horsefly, he took a few steps in the direction in which the deer had bolted, searching the ground for the blood trail that would lead to his prey. Bloody hoof prints led from the scene. Hunching down for a closer look, he followed the tracks to a birch log, scanning the ground as he moved. “What the…?”
Not a single droplet of blood lay anywhere in the vicinity of the tracks. Had the deer’s wound simply stopped bleeding? He scratched his head, glancing around. The blood flow might have ebbed somewhat, but to cut off entirely without leaving a trace? Preposterous. There had to be a logical explanation. There always was. As a man of science, Jace was curious to know