Page 33 of Scarlett

Chapter Ten

Two days later, Emmett walked in from the clinic and went directly to the bedroom. Thankfully Scarlett wasn’t at home because he was a bloody mess. After getting a clean shirt and pants, he went back outside and removed his clothes.

It took two buckets of water to get most of the blood washed off. Hopefully Scarlett would wash them soon so they’d not be too stained.

Another gunshot wound, but this time accidental. Thankfully the patient would recover quickly.

Emmett went back inside and to the kitchen. Scarlett had not started dinner. She was usually home at the end of his day. This day she must have been detained at whatever activities she did.

In actuality, it was good that he’d have a few minutes of quiet alone. He went to the window and peered out.

Unfortunately, he’d planned to feed the patient and now he would have to figure something out if Scarlett didn’t return soon.

An hour later, she’d yet to appear and Emmett became annoyed. He went to check on the patient, who was asleep. Next he went to Gladys’ home and she offered to bring the injured man food.

Tampering down his temper, Emmett reminded himself it was not like Scarlett to be absent so long. Surely there was a good reason for her lateness.

Emmett decided to go to the mercantile and fetch his wife. This time he’d not admonish her, but he would tell her not to take so long to return home in the evenings. Along the way, he considered what his life would be like without Scarlett. He’d grown used to her presence and company in the evenings although admittedly, they didn’t converse much.

“What can I get for you Dr. Jones?” George Walker called out from behind the counter when he entered the dim space. The mercantile was empty of customers. The only person inside was the mercantile owner.

“I’m looking for Scarlett. She’s not home and I thought she’d be here.” He was almost embarrassed at not knowing where his wife was and if she usually went elsewhere on Mondays. Truth be told, he knew very little of her routine.

George shrugged. “I haven’t seen her today, but that doesn’t mean anything. Perhaps she’s over at the seamstress shop. Gemina went there earlier, but she’s home now cooking.”

He thanked the man and went across the street. It was beginning to get harder to hide his annoyance when he found the shop closed.

Somehow, Emmett managed to school his expression when finally going to the seamstresses’ house. An older woman answered the door.

“We haven’t seen Scarlett since this afternoon,” the woman said with an airy voice. She looked over her right shoulder. “Fern do you know where Scarlett went after leaving?“

He’d met Fern a couple times. The young quiet woman was a good friend for Scarlett as they’d bonded since arriving together to Laurel. She looked up at him, lines of worry etched on her pretty face.

“Goodness, when Scarlett left several hours ago, she said she was going home to start supper,” Fern said.

The young woman tapped her lips with her pointer finger in thought. “She’s probably over at Isabel Ward’s home, if she’s not at the mercantile with Gemina.”

By the time he left Isabel Ward’s home and the church, his ire was replaced with worry.

Had his wife decided to leave for some reason? Certainly she’d not been unhappy. Not that he’d asked her much about her feelings.

Emmett looked down the almost deserted main street. The only sounds were the tinny piano music coming from the saloon. It was the only place he’d not stopped by or peered into.

Where is Scarlett?

He trudged home. If she wasn’t home by then, he wasn’t sure what to do next.

Upon entering the house, the aroma of food struck him and he hurried to the kitchen. Scarlett was cooking, her back to him.

With a loud sniff, she lifted a handkerchief to her nose and blew hard. A sob racked her and she wiped tears away with the back of her hand. Then she proceeded to stir something in a large pot.

“Scarlett? What’s the matter?” Emmett went to her, but didn’t touch her. “Did someone hurt you?”

Startled at his presence, she jumped and then wiped at her face with both hands and shook her head. Straightening as he’d recognized to be her posture, a sort of defense, she sniffed and looked directly at him. “No, nothing is wrong. I’m fine thank you. I may have gotten something in my eye. I apologize for the lateness of supper. It will be ready momentarily.”

Emmett wasn’t sure what to say or do. She treated him like a stranger, as if whatever private matters happened to her, he wasn’t privy to it.

Unsure of what to do, he turned and left the kitchen. He paced the floor and went to the doorway several times to look in. Scarlett was poised once again, cooking, her movements almost mechanical.