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Winifred shook out her napkin and lifted her salad fork. “Did I hear Darla Bledsoe’s voice this afternoon when you came back from the hospital?”
“You did. Where were you?”
“Sitting on the top step of the stairs.” She dropped her gaze. “Eavesdropping,” she added.
“Then you already know what she wanted.”
“Yes, I do. She wants you, Zane.”
“I— Yes, she does.”
Winifred looked straight into his eyes. “She’s all wrong for you.”
“I know. She’s too self-centered to be a doctor’s wife.”
She glanced up, her face oddly strained. “At least she is not career-centered,” she murmured.
“Maybe,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact. He crunched up a crisp slice of cucumber. “Maybe not.”
“Zane?”
“I heard you,” he said. “It changes nothing.”
Winifred continued to fork bites of tomato into her mouth. The silence stretched until he could hear Rosemarie’s happy chatter and Yan Li’s soft voice from the kitchen. He was truly blessed with his beautiful baby daughter and two loyal servants. Friends, really. And a growing medical practice. He had a good life in a town he loved.
But he wanted more. He wanted Winifred.
“Sam said something about an epidemic. Is it very bad?”
“Cholera. And yes, it’s bad.”
Sam stepped in to retrieve the salad plates. “Okay I go play fan-tan with Ming Cha tonight?”
“I’d rather you didn’t, Sam. I’m sorry, but cholera is highly contagious.”
Sam sent him a frightened look. “You mean, Yan Li can catch?”
“Yan Li can catch it if she drinks contaminated water or touches anything that is contaminated. Keep her inside and scrub any vegetables you buy at the market. And boil all the water you drink.”
“All from own garden,” Sam said happily. “Yan Li grow.”
“Eggs?”
“We have many chickens, Boss. And even milk cow.”
Zane relaxed somewhat. Those he cared about were safe for the moment. Sheriff Jericho Silver had ridden from ranch to ranch along the polluted stream, warning everyone of the danger. Another thirty-six hours and they’d have the outbreak under control.
“Don’t go out, Winifred. Even down to the hotel restaurant. Don’t drink any water that Sam hasn’t boiled first. Even Rosemarie’s bathwater should be boiled.”
“Strawberries for dessert,” Sam announced from the doorway.
Zane laid his fork aside and pushed back his dining chair. “Save mine, Sam. I have to go down to the hospital after supper.”
“Will put in cooler with roast chicken chests.”
Winifred stifled a burst of laughter.
“Good man,” Zane said under his breath. He stood and moved to the front hall. Winifred met him at the door and handed over his leather medical bag. Then she touched his arm.
“I know it’s not necessary to warn a physician to be careful, but you will be, won’t you?”
He smoothed his free hand over her cheek. “I will be. There are things I want to do before I die.”
She shivered. “Don’t say that. It’s bad luck.”
“Ah. How about this, then. There’s something I want to do before another day goes by.”
“Intriguing,” she allowed.
He gave her a long look. “It will be.”
She closed the door after him, then carefully opened it again and stood watching his tall, well-knit form stride down the hill to the hospital. Oh, dear Lord, please keep this man safe.
“Missy?”
“Yes, Sam, what is it?”
“Yan Li put baby Rose in crib. Which bedroom?”
Winifred shut the door a second time. “Put her in my room, please. When the doctor comes home, he will be very tired and won’t want to be disturbed.”
* * *
At half past two in the morning, Zane stumbled into the house, dropped his bag in the hallway and washed his hands at the kitchen sink. Then he dragged his aching body up the stairs. A lamp stood on the hall table, turned down low. With a tired sigh, he blew it out and headed into his bedroom. He felt so heartsick he wanted to grind his teeth and weep.
The moon had risen and pale silvery light flooded the room. He kicked off his shoes, but just as he was about to shed the rest of his clothes, a glint of something caught his eye. A china bowl heaped with strawberries sat on his pillow.
Winifred. He’d never been able to resist strawberries. He knew she had brought them up and left them for him. Oh, God. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry for strawberries; he was hungry for her.
