Page 91 of At Love’s Command

All these years, she’d thought she was destined to minister to other people’s families, not one of her own. That no one would want a headstrong woman employed in a man’s profession. Since no man had stirred her heart into wanting more, she’d been content with her lot. Until Matthew Hanger burst into her clinic, snapping orders left and right, fighting for the life of his friend. He might be a battle-hardened warrior, dictatorial and stubborn, but he’d treated her like an equal from the day they’d met. He valued her abilities, trusted her instincts, and had risked his life to save hers. Multiple times. How could she not love him? He was everything she’d never thought she’d find.

They might have a lot of details to sort through to successfully combine two radically different lives into one, but if God could join their hearts so completely, she had no doubt that he would find a way to blend their lives as well.

“I love you, Matthew,” she said with a smile she could no longer contain, “and nothing would make me happier than to be your wife.”

He grinned and bent his head toward hers for another kiss, but she leaned away, her attention darting to the ugly brown stain on the left side of his vest.

“But first, we better tend to that, don’t you think?” She raised a brow, warning him not to argue, then reached for the buttons of his vest and, one by one, pushed them through their holes.

Matthew chuckled softly and opened his arms in surrender, letting her have her way. “Tend to me as much as you want, Doc,” he said with a wiggle of his brows that made her fingers stutter on the buttons. “I’m all yours.”

Epilogue

FOUR MONTHS LATER

See you next week, Mrs. Timmons.” Josephine held the clinic door wide as the young woman she’d just examined exited the clinic. The October breeze had turned chilly over the course of the afternoon, but Josephine welcomed the fresh air.

Mr. Timmons jumped up from the bench where he’d been waiting outside and immediately took his wife’s arm to help her down the boardwalk steps to their wagon.

Heavy with their first child, Elmira Timmons placed a supporting hand beneath her belly as she paused to smile over her shoulder. “Thanks, Dr. Jo. I keep telling Harland that we still got at least a month, but he frets somethin’ fierce.”

“Well, Harland knows where to find me if that babe of yours decides to get an early start.”

The young husband nodded, his face as serious as if he’d been called upon to give a graded recitation in front of the class. “Clinic during the day. Gringolet at night. If you’re on another call, I’m to ask Mr. Watson or Miss Darla to get word to you.”

“That’s right,” Josephine praised, trying not to grin too widely. Expectant fathers needed as much soothing as expectant mothers. “And if the baby comes on October 21?”

“I’m to fetch Dr. Peabody or Madge Smith.”

“Excellent.” Josephine had made arrangements for one of the younger, more open-minded San Antonio physicians to cover any patient emergencies that might arise among her clients on Saturday. And if he were unavailable to assist with a birthing, an older woman from church who had twenty years of midwifery experience had volunteered to assist.

Being roused from bed for delivery duty was a doctor’s lot, but she and Matthew had agreed that their wedding night would be an exception to the rule.

As the Timmonses continued on their way, Josephine glanced down the road to the west, unable to stop her heart from giving a little jump. Matthew was due back today. He’d wired her this morning to expect him. The usual place. The usual time. She checked the watch pendant hanging from a chain around her neck. Less than thirty minutes.

She spun back into the clinic and closed the door behind her. She needed to get ready.

Her instruments had already been cleaned and her medical bag restocked before Mrs. Timmons arrived for her appointment, so all that remained was to tidy up the examination room and go through her correspondence.

After her examination table had been wiped down, her clinic stethoscope stored in its drawer, and her medicine cabinet locked for the night, Josephine took a seat at the small desk in the corner and sorted through the stack of mail that had accumulated. A medical journal, the monthly bill from her druggist, an envelope from Purgatory Springs. Seeing the personal missive, Josephine set the rest aside and tore open the letter from Lizzie Carrington.

Dear Jo,

I thought you’d like to know that Daddy’s arm is healed up right as rain after his accident with the barbed wire. Dr. Fields has proven to be just as competent as you promised. She’s assured me that there is no sign of lockjaw and that the infection I initially panicked over was mild and easily treated.

Josephine sent a quick prayer of gratitude heavenward. Ramona Fields had been one year behind her in school, and the two of them had often been paired together in their laboratory studies. Ramona was exceptionally bright if a bit timid. When Josephine decided to move her practice to San Antonio in order to be closer to Charlie and her father, Dr. Fields had been her first choice to replace her in Purgatory Springs. A competent doctor to tend the people Josephine cared about, and a community accustomed to female physicians for a doctor struggling to find a place to utilize her talents.

Now, about your wedding! Is your dress finished? I can’t wait to see it. And Matthew? Has he returned from his latest mission with the Horsemen? I pray he is well. Have you convinced him to accept your father’s offer of a partnership in Gringolet yet? A married man should settle down, you know, not go traipsing all over creation putting himself in the path of wayward bullets. I thank God that Paul is content with the mercantile. I don’t think I could endure the constant worry—

“Hey, sis.” Charlie’s call, followed by the closing of the back door, interrupted Lizzie’s epistolary chatter. “That package you’ve been waiting for finally arrived.”

Charlie stepped into the room and handed her a long, thin parcel.

Her sign!

She jumped to her feet and grabbed it with all the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. “It came! I worried it wouldn’t get here in time.” She used a penknife to cut through the binding string, then tore off the brown paper. She laid the black wooden shingle on her desk and ran her hand lovingly across the white stenciled letters.

Dr. Josephine Hanger.