Strong and Stubborn (24 page)

He stared at the wicker chair, outfitted with wheels and a footrest, and groaned in frustration. So close … and he couldn't do a thing about it unless he wanted Doc to find him facedown on the floor. Braden considered trying anyway but decided that the foolishness of the maneuver might make Doc rescind his approval.

“Good morning.” The new carpenter strolled into the room.

“Where's Granger?” Braden demanded. He would have settled for Dunstan if he hadn't been nursing his cracked ribs, but Braden recoiled at the idea of this stranger seeing him at his weakest. This was supposed to be a moment of triumph, not more humiliation!

“He just finished with the Bible reading, and now he's praying with a few of the men,” the unsuitable replacement explained. “If you prefer, I'll go back and let him know you're waiting on him.”

It's Sunday?
Braden hadn't realized it, but that made today an even better choice.
The workers won't be going into the forest. I'll be able to spend the day with the whole town, same as any other man
.

“I can assure you,”—Doc took advantage of the short pause, obviously still peeved over Braden's abuse of his medical chart—“that Mr. Lyman won't wish to wait a second longer than he has to.”

“If it's all the same to you, Doc, I'd rather hear Mr. Lyman's decisions from Mr. Lyman himself.” The carpenter crossed his arms—arms that were strong enough to get the job done. “He may not be back on his feet yet, but it's my understanding he still runs this town.”

Good man, that new carpenter I hired. Doc looks like he swallowed a bullfrog
. He couldn't resist rubbing salt in the wound.

“Doc's right—no sense in waiting.” Braden scooted his rear as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off then angled slightly so he could slide into the chair. “Mr… .”

“Strode.” The carpenter crossed the room and stood beside the bed.

“Right. Mr. Strode here can help as well as anyone.” Braden gave a tight smile to the carpenter and a scowl to Doc, who hadn't taken the hint. “If you'll just move the chair into position?”

Begrudging but blessedly silent, Doc decided to cooperate. He maneuvered it through the doorway without any difficulty, passing the first hurdle. If the contraption hadn't fit, Braden didn't know whether his newfound approval of the carpenter would extend that far. Having a man help brace him as Braden slid into a chair was one thing; having a man carry him to it was a beast of another color.

Doc nudged the chair right up alongside the bed and employed the locking mechanism to keep the wheels from rolling, but the next step proved more difficult. When facing him, the footrest's extended “comfort design” proved too extended for Braden to reach the seat.

With the chair sideways, he could place his legs in the vehicle, but the armrests stopped him from sliding into the chair. Braden could grasp the far armrest, but the angle was too awkward to provide any stability. In the end, Braden had no choice but to allow Mr. Strode to help lift him into the chair while Doc held it steady—locking wheels or no, the thing could still tip over.

By the time they'd finished, Braden was breathing hard. He was unaccustomed to the exertion—his upper body weak from lack of use. The pain streaking from his overworked knee didn't help matters. Inspecting his new conveyance helped mask his weakness. Braden kept his head bent, peering at the footrest, the wheels, and even the braking mechanism until he could look the other men in the face.

“It's more comfortable than I expected.” Braden found he particularly liked the way the back of the chair rose so high. When he wasn't in motion, he'd be able to lean back and relax. Outside.

“Press here to unlock the brake,” Doc instructed. “But before you do, put your hands on the outer rim of the wheel and tell me whether it will be awkward for you to push forward. We can always add pillows to your seat and raise you an inch or two higher.”

“Let's see.” Braden loosely grasped the outer rim, sliding his hands forward and deciding that freedom felt like cool metal—a sharp contrast to overly warm cotton sheets. He pulled his arms back, placed his hands, and tried again. “I'm not scrunching up to grab the wheels, and it's not a reach either, so it fits right.”

“Good.” Doc demonstrated again how to set the brake, had Braden release it, reengage the mechanism, and release it again before he proclaimed himself satisfied. “Now, a few things before you begin.”

“A few things?” Braden all but gaped at the man in disbelief. “Maybe you haven't noticed, Doc, but I've gone through a few things to put me in that bed, then a few more to work my way back out of it. A few more and I doubt I'll ever make it through the door!”

He let his exasperation show but kept things light. No way he'd let his deepest fears spring to life in front of an audience. They did enough damage where they were, whispering in the dark.
You'll never be whole … never be the man you were … never walk again …

“Your impatience fails to impress me.” Doc sounded full of bravado, but he made sure to keep the chart far from Braden's reach.

“Over three months since I've been out of this room. That's plenty patient.” Braden gripped the wheels and pulled back, trying to gain room enough to angle past the doctor. One good shove and—

Nothing.

While he'd been plotting, Doc nudged a wooden wedge beneath the nearest wheel, effectively ending any forward motion. Nor could Braden reverse enough to maneuver around the blockage—his back was pressed against the bed. Even if his arms reached far enough to remove the object, he'd most likely tip himself over and wind up on the ground, helpless as a turtle turned on its shell.

“In light of your earlier …”—Doc took a moment to choose a descriptor—”
vehemence
, I suspected the doorstop might be needed.”

Wings effectively clipped, Braden gritted his teeth and waited. He noticed that the carpenter had the good sense to make himself scarce. Braden wished he could do the same thing but would have to settle for not being further humiliated in front of an audience.

“As you've already begun to discover, you will need to rebuild your strength. This is the case not only for your legs but for your core, your back, and your arms.” Doc gave him the hairy eye until Braden nodded. Then he kept going. “The effort required to maintain an upright position will be greater than you anticipate. The muscle and movement needed to propel the device will further fatigue you.”

“I'm overwhelmed by all this encouragement,” Braden quipped.

“You will rebuild your strength, but gradually. Thus, your initial forays will be brief.” Doc held up a hand, forestalling protests. “This may be extended if you allow someone to assist you.”

“You mean let someone push me like a babe in a pram?” Braden couldn't hide his contempt.
First the apron strings, now this
.

“Your choice, Mr. Lyman.” Doc removed the doorstop. “Mr. Strode thought of laying planks of wood over the doorsteps so you can come and go more freely. I will check on you in two hours.”

Braden didn't ask any more questions. He pushed himself straight through the door and took some time in the hallway to gauge how best to move. Swift, short pushes gave more speed but took more energy. Longer, smoother motions allowed for more control with less effort. Stopping was a matter of catching the wheels and pulling back, and this, too, was more effective with longer pushes.

When Braden was satisfied he wouldn't make a fool of himself with the town watching, he rolled onto the porch. There he stopped, wanting to imprint the moment in his memory. The sun hung low enough for its rays to reach down and warm the porch. Braden tilted his head into a welcoming breeze. It brushed across his face, cool as a mountain stream, crisp as pine needles, and whispering of freedom.

T
rapped
. No two ways about it. Nor three, or four, or five. Five men surrounded her when Naomi tried to sneak off to the workshop after breakfast. Five men who all wanted the pleasure of taking her for a walk. Five very determined men, none of whom would give way to the next, and none of whom broke ranks to let her escape—er, pass by.

Honestly, the one man Naomi wanted to speak with was just about the only man who didn't insist on the pleasure of her company. It was enough to make a woman disgruntled—especially since she knew, in all fairness, that this was a mess of her own making. This wasn't the first time Naomi had cause to regret placing the infamous ad, and she harbored an unpleasant suspicion it wouldn't be the last.

“Good weather for walking.” Clump had headed her off at the door. If he weren't such a sweet, earnest fellow, Naomi might have blamed him for her current predicament. After all, he'd stood in the doorway
—still
stood in the doorway—effectively ending her exit.

“I'd be pleased to act as your escort.” Gent seized Clump's opening to insert himself into the conversation. Unfortunately Gent's exuberance for good manners got the best of them all. His flourishing bow caught the attention of every man in Hope Falls.

So three more had decided to swoop in, cutting off Naomi's alternate route. Until that point, she'd been steadily edging back along the wall, hoping to sidle straight back to the kitchen. None of the men would dare follow her there. Evie laid down the law as soon as they arrived: any trespassers forfeited their next meal.

“I was askin' her!” Clump's indignation was almost comical.

“Brevity is the soul of wit.” Gent wasn't apologetic.

The youngest lumberman, Bobsley, tossed Naomi a grin. “Looks like you'll have your choice of company this morning, Miss Higgins.”

“Some choices are better than others,” interjected Craig Williams, a loudmouthed team leader who'd arrogantly tried to claim Evie from his first day in town. Evie's acceptance of Granger didn't humble the man; he merely turned his unwelcome attentions on Lacey.

“And why are you thinkin' you're one of her choices, Williams?” Bear Riordan raised one impressively furry red eyebrow, and Naomi wondered if he hadn't joined them to keep an eye on the adversarial Williams. Despite his intimidating size—or perhaps because of it—Bear's well-intentioned interference helped keep things peaceful.

“Yeah!” Bobsley, whose slight build was an asset to high climbing but didn't lend itself well to confrontation, allied himself with Bear. “You used up your chances on the other two!”

Privately, Naomi agreed. Each man chose two of the three, with the understanding that the woman he didn't name wouldn't accept his suit. Early on, when some of the men tried courting all three ladies at once, this cut down some confusion. The idea also took into account this sort of situation, so the last unengaged woman wasn't hounded by every man in town.
So why do I still feel hounded?

“Those were the old rules.” Williams smoothed his thinning hair over his bald spot with a sickly smile. “Things are different, but they specifically said we can take pay and still court the lady.”

“It was understood that the courting would be done by those of us who listed Miss Higgins as a desired bride,” Gent corrected.

A desired bride
. Naomi felt the soft heat of a rising blush, enchanted by the description in spite of herself. Amid all the pressure of choosing a groom and praying he would accept her past indiscretion in return for the position and property she offered, Naomi never noticed that some of these men might find her desirable.

“You were clear as water that you chose Miss Thompson.” Clump readily sided with Gent against this new opponent. “She didn't want you, and neither did Miss Lyman. Don't horn in on Miss Higgins!”

“Why shouldn't I? She and I got a lot in common.” Smile long gone, Williams plowed ahead. “Like you said, we're both leftovers.”

Naomi gasped, her brief hope for becoming a “desired bride” crushed by Williams's more accurate assessment.
He's right. Harry threw me over for Charlotte, and I'm last choice in Hope Falls
.

“Walk away, Williams,” Bear growled, his face darkening. “Plenty men asked to court Miss Higgins in the beginning. She deserves to be courted by men who recognize her value—not insulted.”

“It's no insult when a man offers a woman the protection of his name.” Williams wouldn't back down. “My courting is a compliment!”

“A compliment that's become cliché.” Naomi lifted her chin. “One you'll no doubt extend to the next unwed woman you find. I happen to prefer men who are more selective with their attentions.”

Williams's eyes became beady slits. “You're making a mistake.”

“No she ain't.” Bobsley sounded as certain as Naomi felt, beaming as Williams, unable to salvage his pride, stomped away.

“Now that he's gone, would you like to take that walk?” Clump slid a glance toward Gent and immediately clarified, “With me?”

Naomi looked for an excuse but saw only three hopeful faces and Riordan's more impassive expression. Again she wondered whether he'd come to her defense as part of his position, or if he was one of the men who'd, as he put it “chosen” her. She'd have to ask Lacey, whose memory about which man chose whom was more reliable.

“I think the forest is large enough for all of us,” she announced. Naomi owed them a chance, and she owed it to herself to learn enough to make an informed decision when the time came. At least this way she wouldn't need to go on more than one walk!

If the men looked less than enthusiastic at the prospect of a group outing, so be it. No matter what she decided, several of them would have been disappointed. Besides, this way she could rotate the conversation if things lagged or became otherwise uncomfortable.