Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"I've not seen him yet. It's a strange business, though, isn't it? I just couldn't do it—a mail-order groom. Do you think they're getting along?" Katie said.

John was listening to the nurse talking to Peter, the orderly. They were changing the bed next to his, and John was pretending to be asleep even as he was listening to every word.

"I don't know. It's a strange business, all right. I heard some men talking about him in the saloon. They said he'd been asking all sort of questions in there," Peter replied.

"What sort of questions?" Katie asked.

"About the town and the businesses. Perhaps he's looking for work, I don't know. But it just seems odd to me. Why would you travel thousands of miles for a few letters and a promise?"

John wondered the same. He was curious to know more about the man, even as he knew it was not his place to ask. It did seem odd for a man to travel thousands of miles to a place he had never been before, and all on the hope of a few letters. Were the two of them really getting along? And what came next? Would Tara announce they were getting married?

"I think she'll regret it. It's one thing writing a letter. You can make yourself seem like anyone in a letter. But face to face, there's no hiding who you are. She might not like him, and he might not like her," Katie said.

"You're not ordering one for yourself, then?" Peter asked, and Katie laughed.

"I'll keep my courting prospects to myself, thank you. But no, I won't be placing any advertisements in the Eastern press," she said.

Having finished changing the bed, the nurse and the orderly went off to other duties. John lay still, pretending to be asleep, but his mind was on Tara and the strange situation she found herself in. Was she really happy?

How can she be? She doesn't know anything about him, he reasoned, feeling a sudden pang of jealousy as to the mail-order groom's luck.

There was no doubting his growing feelings for Tara. He was falling for her—her kindness, her gentle ways, her smile, and everything she had done to help him had brought about feelings he could no longer deny. John knew he had to hold back, that a sudden memory could change everything for him—the recollection of a wife or sweetheart, of children…

But what if I never remember? Am I supposed to just live as though there might be someone waiting for me?

These thoughts remained with him for the rest of the day, until later on, after he had eaten a bowl of soup for dinner, Doctor Reardon came to speak to him.

"I want to discuss what happens to you next, John. You're getting better. Your leg's healing, and it's not good for you to be lying around all day in bed on a ward," he said. "I want you to think about moving on."

John was taken aback. Only the day before, Tara had been wheeling him along the street in a wheelchair, and now Doctor Reardon was talking about him leaving the clinic.

"But where am I supposed to go?" he asked.

"Well, there are places in Freemont—boarding houses and such like. You'll have to find work and pay your way. There are plenty of jobs going. Once your leg's healed, you'll be as fit as you ever were," he said.

"But if I can't remember anything about myself, what good is that?" John asked.

"This isn't a hotel, John. You've been taken care of without charge thanks to the generosity of the charitable board that runs the clinic, but that can't go on indefinitely," the doctor replied. "I'm not saying you have to leave tomorrow, but you need to think about where your future lies."

"How can I think about the future when I don't even know anything about my past?"

Doctor Reardon merely shook his head before crossing the ward to speak to one of the other patients. John was left in a state of dejection. His leg would heal, but as for what to do next…

For all I know, I'm a doctor—or a politician, or a street cleaner, or a waiter, or just nothing. Sighing, he turned over and closed his eyes to go to sleep.

But a familiar voice sounded above him, and, turning, he found himself looking up into Tara's smiling eyes.

"How are you feeling, John?" she asked.

He smiled back at her, his mood lifted by the fact of her arrival, and she sat down on the edge of the bed to talk.

"Did Doctor Reardon tell you? I'm being discharged," he said, and Tara looked at him in surprise.

"Discharged? Really? But your leg's not healed properly," she said, glancing down at the splints still holding the broken bones in place.

"Not immediately, but he says I have to think about the future. But how can I think about the future when I can't even remember the past?" he asked, repeating his previous words.

Tara reached out and took his hand in hers. Her touch felt reassuring, and she squeezed his hand, thinking for a moment before adopting a resolute tone.

"We'll work it out, don't worry. I've got an idea," she said.

John looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean? I can't ask you to help me any more than you already have. I've got to deal with this on my own."

But Tara shook her head. "At Christmas? I don't think so, John. I'd be a poor friend if I just waved you goodbye without so much as a second thought. No, if you need a place to stay, I've got one. You can sleep in one of the outbuildings. We can make it comfortable for you—and warm, too. You could sleep with the goats. They'll keep you warm," she said.

It was a generous offer, but John didn't feel it was his place to intrude on Tara and her mail-order groom. What would he think of the prospect of another man coming to live at the homestead?

"But what about Kyle? I mean… haven't you got… someone else?" he asked.

He didn't mean to set himself up as an alternative to Kyle, or intend for her to think he was making an advance. But to his surprise, the expression on her face changed. She looked almost sad, and John feared he had said the wrong thing.

"Oh… well, he's away at the moment. He's gone to Helena for a few days. It's about twenty miles from here. I'm not entirely sure when he'll be back. But he'd understand. He'd want to help you, I'm sure. It's just until you can make your own arrangements," she said, recovering her composure as she spoke. "I don't want you to find yourself with nowhere to go. I'm surprised Doctor Reardon even mentioned it."

"Well… as long as you're sure. It really is very kind of you. I don't know what to say," John said, and Tara squeezed his hand again.

"Just say yes," she replied, and he smiled.

"Then I will. And gladly so. You've been such a good friend to me, Tara… Nurse Culden," he said.

There were times when John forgot she was there because it was her job to be. Night and day, with all the care and diligence of a true friend, she was there, and now she was prepared to go that extra mile to help him again.

"I think you can call me Tara, don't you? And it's a pleasure to be your friend, just as you've been mine," she said, smiling at him as they held one another's gaze.

She was the prettiest woman he had ever seen—though he had to remind himself he could not remember many other women. And even as he held back his feelings, he couldn't help but imagine something more between them.

"Well, as long Kyle won't mind," John repeated, and Tara shook her head.

"He won't mind. And even if he does, it's my house, my homestead, my outbuildings. You can help with the animals, too. That way, you'll have a job to do as well as a place to stay. We can call it work for rent," she said, and John nodded.

He wasn't afraid of hard work, and once his leg was healed, he had every intention of finding a job and making a new start. But still the question of his memory—or lack thereof—remained, and while his leg would certainly heal, there was no certainty the past would return to him.

"Well, if you're sure," John said, and Tara nodded.

"I'm more than sure," she replied.

***

As it turned out, Doctor Reardon was forced to discharge John from the clinic the following day. A man had fallen from a narrow path on the mountainside, arriving with a broken arm, a broken leg, and cuts to his face and chest. There were no empty beds, and with John having taken a few tentative steps on his broken leg, the decision was made to let him go.

"It's not ideal, but this man needs the bed more than you," Doctor Reardon said as the new patient was brought in by Peter and one of the other orderlies on a stretcher.

It was early morning, and Tara had just finished her night shift. Katie had arrived to relieve her, and Tara came hurrying over to help John out of bed.

"It seems you're going to be bunking in with the goats tonight," she said.

John's leg was still in a splint, but he was able to hobble on it—with Tara's help. Having relinquished his bed to other man, he walked with some difficulty to the far end of the ward, where he sat down on a chair by the door.

"What am I going to wear? I don't have anything but the clothes I had when I came in, and those are all torn and dirty," John said.

He had thought he would have some time to prepare, but the sudden arrival of the new patient had meant there was no choice but to discharge him immediately.

"It's all right. I've brought you some of my father's old clothes," Tara said. "I hope you don't mind. They're clean, of course. But if you'd prefer me to fetch you something different, I can."

"That's so kind of you. I'll wear whatever you've got. I don't have any money, so I can't buy anything," John said.

He was beginning to realize he was entirely dependent on her—on the charity of others. But to his surprise, Tara reached into her pocket and took out a purse, pressing it into his hand as she spoke.

"I spoke to Reverend McGuire. He runs the Christmas food drive at this time of year, but they don't just give out food. They get all sorts of things donated, and they have a fund, too, to help those in need. He gave me this purse for you. It's not much, but you can buy a few things with it," she said.

Again, John felt overwhelmed by her kindness. After she helped him get dressed in a pair of her father's breeches, a shirt, and an overcoat, the time had come to leave the clinic behind.

"Goodbye, Mr. Smith, and good luck," Peter said, shaking John's hand as he left.

John was walking on crutches, and Tara had to support him as he shook Peter's hand. But he was determined to walk unaided, and, gritting his teeth, he stepped forward, almost stumbling as he did so.

"Careful, John," Tara exclaimed, catching him in her arms to prevent him from falling.

Her arms were around his chest, and as he righted himself, he looked at her and smiled.

"You saved me," he said, and Tara blushed, keeping her arms around him as he regained his balance.

"Just one step at a time, all right?" she said, and he nodded.

"Little by little. I'll try," he said.

Outside, it was bitterly cold, and John was thankful for the overcoat and the scarf Tara wrapped around his neck. It was snowing again, and their progress was slow but steady as they walked across the yard and through the gates of the clinic. John walked unaided, but having Tara next to him gave him the reassurance he needed. As they emerged onto the street, he had found a rhythm that brought with it only a little pain as he walked.

"You're doing well. I really thought we'd have to use the chair again," Tara said.

"I don't want to be an invalid," he said, and she smiled.

"No, I know you don't. And you're not. You've just got a broken leg, that's all. It's nothing that won't heal. This way," she said, pointing down a side street.

John was interested to see where Tara lived, but as they approached a gate leading into a small yard with outbuildings around it, he felt a sudden sense of familiarity—just as he had done on seeing Dawson's Nose. It was as though the scene had been described to him—the gate, the house to the left, approached by a short flight of steps onto a porch, and the yard enclosed by outbuildings on three sides. A horse peered out of its stable.

"Stanley's waiting for us," Tara said, opening the gate for John to walk through.

"Stanley? That's the horse that carried me, isn't it?" John said, and Tara nodded.

"That's right. He's a faithful creature, very loyal. He was my father's horse before he was mine. I couldn't be without him," she said.

They approached the stable door, and Stanley let out a loud neigh, shaking his head and snorting.

"I've got some sugar cubes for you," Tara said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out two lumps.

The horse snaffled them, and John patted Stanley's nose, grateful to the creature for having played his part in rescuing him.

"It's strange, I feel like I recognize this place—the yard, the buildings, and the house," he said.

Tara smiled. "I suppose I've described them to you, haven't I? I'm always talking about my animals. Do you think you'll feel at home here? Not everyone likes the idea of sleeping in an outbuilding, but we'll make it comfortable, I promise," Tara said, and John nodded.

"I don't think it'll be a problem. I don't know… it all feels so familiar. It's like I've slept in plenty of barns and outbuildings before," he said, looking around him and wondering if perhaps the familiarity was to do with his past.

Could it be he had worked with animals before? Was he a rancher? A cowboy? What was it that gave him this familiarity in a place he felt certain he had never set foot in before?

"Or perhaps I have. Is there any chance I could've been here at some point? I was obviously coming to Freemont for a reason. Perhaps I really am familiar with it. I might even have known your father," John said.

Every possibility lay open, and as he looked around him, he felt a further sense of familiarity with what he saw. It wasn't so much the place, but the things it contained—the saddle for the horse, the tools hanging on the wall of the stable, the smell of the animals. All of it felt familiar to him, though he couldn't say why.

"Let's go inside and have something to eat. You'll get cold out here. You can meet Maisy. I'm sure she'll be pleased to have a visitor," Tara said, and she helped John across the yard to the house.

Maisy turned out to be a cat, and there was something familiar about her, too—her sleek white coat and bright green eyes. She purred and slinked her way around John's legs, letting out a loud meow as Tara set a saucer of milk down for her by the stove.

"There, now. Was that what you wanted?" she asked, stroking the cat's back.

Maisy lapped up the milk before settling herself down in front of the stove. John sat in a chair, warming himself, as Tara set a pan of soup to heat over the flames.

"Are you sure this is all right? I don't mind going straight outside," he said, but Tara wouldn't hear of it.

"I need to get some blankets out for you first. And if you're not warm enough, I want you to say. I don't mind giving up my bed if necessary. I can sleep down here," she said.

"I don't think Kyle would be too impressed with that, would he?"

Again, the look on Tara's face changed, and she nodded, turning back to the stir the soup on the stove.

"I'm sure that won't matter. Like I said, he's gone to Helena. Once he's back, we can figure something out," she said.

John was curious about Kyle, but he didn't think it was his place to ask questions. He wondered if perhaps they had had an argument, or even if Kyle was not the man Tara had thought him to be. He thought back to the conversation between Katie and the orderly, wondering if Tara knew the rest of the town was talking about her, having invited a perfect stranger to come and share her life.

And yet, he knew there would be talk about this arrangement, too. It seemed Tara made a habit of inviting strangers into her life, for John was surely as much a stranger to her as Kyle, perhaps more so.

"I hope he won't feel like I'm intruding on him," John said.

"He's been staying at the boarding house. I'm sure it'll be quite all right. Besides, this is my house, and I'll decide who stays here," Tara replied.

John thought better of offering any further objections, and Tara served up the soup before helping him to the table. They sat down opposite one another and began to eat. It felt strange to just be the two of them together.

Their conversations had always taken place in public—at the clinic, or in the street. But to share a meal, to sit opposite one another, alone except for Maisy fast asleep by the fire, brought a sense of intimacy, one John was glad of. There were so many reasons for him not to feel as he did, and yet these were feelings he couldn't help, feelings that were only growing stronger with every passing moment.

"I hope I'll soon be strong enough to do lots of jobs for you with the animals. I can feed them and muck them out. I could even take Stanley out to ride when my leg's healed," John said.

"That's very kind of you. Kyle promised the same, but he's not as reliable as I'd hoped he'd be. Anyway… only once you're better. I don't want you falling when I'm not here. You could do more damage, and I don't think Doctor Reardon would be too happy to have you back at the clinic so soon," Tara said, smiling at him across the table.

There was something about the way she smiled—a genuine sincerity. John smiled back, grateful to her for all she had done for him. Whatever happened, he knew he would never forget that smile—the way it lit up her face. It was a smile that came as much from her eyes as it did from her lips.

"I'll be careful, I promise. I don't want to end up back there again, either," he replied, and Tara laughed.

"Doctor Reardon's a good man, but he can be stern at times. I suppose that's just his way, isn't it?"

There was a thoughtful look in her eyes, and John wondered what was on her mind. What did she really think about this whole situation—what did she think about him? He knew it was wrong to wish such things, or to hope for something more between them. She was spoken for, and when Kyle returned from Helena, John felt certain he would waste no time in staking his claim. John was the cuckoo in the nest—that was how Kyle would see it.

"He's been good to me. But it's you who really helped me, Tara. I know I've said it before, but… you saved my life. It's not easy to know how to repay that. And now you're helping me again. Really, I mean it. You've done so much for me," John said, and he reached out and took her hand in his.

It was a spontaneous gesture, and one he knew he should not have made—though she made no move to pull her hand back, blushing as she shook her head.

"Like I said before, I'm a nurse. It's what I do," she replied.

"How many nurses invite their patients to stay with them and offer them a job?" he asked.

Tara suddenly pulled her hand away and rose to her feet. She looked upset, turning away from him as though she had done something wrong.

"I'm sorry… perhaps… no, I'm being foolish. Let's clear these things away, then I can make up a bed for you in the outbuilding. It won't take long," she said, and she made an exaggerated pretense of clearing away the dirty dishes.

John feared he had crossed a line, that his feelings for her had betrayed him. Was she angry with him? Had he upset her by what he had implied? Perhaps she was thinking of Kyle, feeling guilty for having shared the intimacy of a meal with another man…

"Tara, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say those things. I was just speaking from the heart, I suppose," he said.

"It's all right, it's nothing. I'm just being foolish. There we are, all done," she said, piling the dirty plates into a bucket and turning to him with a smile.

Practicalities now replaced intimacies, and Tara fussed around, finding blankets and cushions to make up a bed in the outbuilding. She insisted on John having a lamp for light during the night and promised to come early the next morning with something hot to drink.

John would gladly have sat up late with her, talking as they had done before, but it seemed as though she was feeling some form of guilt for their earlier connection, and as she said goodnight, he feared she would regret inviting him to stay.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then. And I'll do whatever I can to help around the place. You only have to ask, and if I can hobble over to it, I'll do it," he said as she helped him down onto the straw bed she had prepared.

The goats were looking inquisitively from their pen, and one of them now bleated and put its hooves up on the fence.

"Oh, get down, Thumper. And don't be disturbing John during the night. Do you hear me?" Tara said before glancing back at John and smiling. "You just concentrate on resting, all right?"

John nodded. The bed was comfortable, and beneath the half-dozen blankets Tara had piled on top of him, he felt warm and snug.

"I'm sorry about before," he repeated, but Tara shook her head.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for. I hope you sleep well," she said and, taking up her own lamp, she left, closing the door behind her.

John was left alone with the goats, and he closed his eyes, not knowing what to think and cursing himself for being too forward. He hadn't meant to make Tara feel uncomfortable. He had been trying to thank her, and yet the words had come out wrong, sounding more like a nod toward a proposition than a genuine show of affection.

What a fool you are. And why would she be interested in you, anyway? You're a cripple who can't even remember his own name, he reminded himself. And with that thought in his head, he turned onto his side and fell asleep.

***

As Tara pulled the bolt across the door, she sighed, turning and leaning back her head, the lamp still held in her hand. She felt a fool, and guilty for having come so close to something she knew she would regret. And yet to have spent the evening with John, to have shared their conversation and to have realized something of his feelings for her was to have been taken by surprise in her own feelings, too.

Hardly by surprise, she admitted to herself, for those feelings had been growing steadily stronger with every passing day.

But at the clinic, and even on the street, Tara had been able to keep those feelings in check. There had been a distance between them, but now…

I shouldn't have invited him to stay here, should I? Still, she knew she couldn't have avoided it, even if she had wanted to.

She liked John, and she cared about him, too. There was something special between them—a growing intimacy Tara was finding confusing. In truth, she felt nothing for Kyle, as much as her initial enthusiasm might have suggested differently.

The letters they had exchanged had given a different impression to the man she now knew, and while those first few days had been spent in blissful ignorance—ignoring any reason on her part in favor of the blinkered view of a man she knew nothing of—the truth was now beginning to emerge.

Why was Kyle away on "business?" What business could he possibly have? He had come to Freemont so they could be together, and yet he refused to do anything more than hide himself away—and now, even from her, too.

Perhaps it's just his way, she told herself as she readied herself for bed.

And yet Tara knew those niggling doubts would only grow stronger, and that her growing feelings for John would only do the same. He was there and Kyle was not. He was everything she had hoped Kyle would be, but was not. It was all so confusing, and while she wanted to give Kyle

a chance, Tara was beginning to realize her happiness might lie elsewhere. Upstairs, warm in bed with Maisy purring softly in her lap, Tara thought of John sleeping out with the goats. Was he cold? What was he thinking? Was he angry with her?

I'll make it up to him in the morning, Tara thought, sighing as she pulled the blankets over her and tried to go to sleep. And as she lay there, it was not Kyle she thought of, but John, and it seemed inevitable she would think that way in the morning, too—a fact she was not only resigned to, but beginning to take pleasure in, too.