Talia: The Magical Bride (The Brides of Paradise Ranch - Sweet Version Book 10) by Merry Farmer

Author:Merry Farmer [Farmer, Merry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-03-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Trey tried to get a grip on his frustration as he walked away from Talia and Dr. Abernathy. He didn’t know what bothered him more, that lecherous, incompetent old sham ogling his wife or his wife’s stubbornness and determination to put herself in danger.

No, he knew the answer to that. Lechery was something he could wrap his brain around, even if he hated it and wanted to punch the smirk off of Dr. Abernathy’s face. But Talia’s willfulness struck something so deep and so terrified in Trey’s soul that he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it when he met the afternoon train with Athos to make sure everything was in order and all deliveries were made without anyone slipping off with someone else’s crate. He couldn’t stop thinking about it when he checked in with Gunn closer to supper after two guests had gotten into an altercation over who should get the best table in the restaurant, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it when he ate his supper alone in the jail, wondering where Talia was.

“I swear, if that woman has come down with the influenza and is languishing on some ranch family’s sofa, I’ll—” He didn’t know what he’d do, so he took another swig of the sarsaparilla Sam had just poured for him at the Silver Dollar’s long, polished bar.

It was a slow night at the saloon, something Trey was both glad for and suspicious of. If so few men were out playing cards or swigging whiskey or being entertained by Bonnie’s girls, did that mean the influenza had spread?

“I appreciate that Talia feels she has a responsibility to nurse sick people, but does she have to be so stubborn about it?” Trey went on, plunking his glass on the bar a little too hard. The sarsaparilla he hadn’t gotten around to drinking yet sloshed over the edges of the glass and onto Sam’s clean bar top.

Sam leaned back against the counter behind the bar, arms crossed. He looked weary and put out, and not at all interested in listening to Trey’s complaint. That didn’t stop Trey from making it, though.

“Doesn’t she realize how much more likely she is to get sick if she’s running around with sick people all the time?” he went on.

“She’s a nurse,” Sam said.

“But does that mean she has to chase after every incident of influenza in town and sit by the bedside of every man, woman, and child with a fever, touching them?”

“Might.” Sam shrugged.

Trey let out a breath. He rubbed a hand over his face and thought about picking up his sarsaparilla to drink it all in one gulp. Instead, he studied where it had splashed on the bar. Sam was usually much quicker to grab a towel and clean up any spills.

That led him to imagining Talia by the bedside of the sick people in down, cleaning up after them. He didn’t know why, but the folks who cleaned up after the sick and dying always seemed to get it worse than the ones who started out sick.

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