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Increasing severity. Clay frowned, grateful that Herman’s eyes were still closed. One of the first rules he had learned in medical school was the importance of allaying patients’ fears by never showing them your concerns. Herman was a good enough doctor that he probably recognized the symptoms, but if he didn’t, the middle of an episode was not the time to discuss diagnosis and prognosis, especially when both were grim. If what Clay thought was true, it wasn’t only he and Herman who should be concerned. All of Ladreville would suffer when its doctor could no longer practice.
    “We’re going to the Bar C,” Clay said in a voice that brooked no dissent. “You can rest there.” Quickly dismounting, he tied Shadow to the back of the buggy and took the reins from Herman.
    “I can’t,” the older man muttered. His shuttered eyes and the creases bracketing his mouth attested to the pain’s intensity. “Mrs. Bramble is expecting me.”
    “Mrs. Bramble is the healthiest person in the county.” Far healthier than Herman at this moment, although Clay forbore mentioning that particular fact.
    A faint smile crossed the older man’s face. “It’s true that I’ve never found anything wrong, even on her most urgent calls.” The color was returning to Herman’s face, and he had lessened his grip on the seat. Though it appeared the worst of the attack was over, the man still needed to rest, especially if his next patient was Mary Bramble.
    “I reckon she’s set her cap for you.”
    Herman’s eyes flew open, revealing an expression of pure terror. “That’s absurd!”
    “Is it?” The diversion was having its desired effect. “Everyone in the county knows Mary Bramble doesn’t like being a widow. She used to bring my father cakes and pies practically every week until Pa told her he had no intention of remarrying.” Clay chuckled at the memory of the woman’s scarlet face the last time she had come to the ranch. “I hate to say this, Herman, but it looks as if you’re next on her list.”
    Dr. Herman Adler grimaced, and this time Clay knew it was not from physical pain. “And to think I believed the headaches were my worst problem.”

    Clay was right, Sarah mused. Driving the wagon wasn’t difficult. The horses seemed not to mind that her grip on the reins was tentative. They moved in the directions she wanted; they stopped when she told them to. The hardest part of driving was controlling Thea. That was why, in anticipation of her sister’s inclination to squirm, Sarah had tied her to the bench. Though Thea protested not being able to peer over the edge of the wagon, she was safe.
    Fortunately, it wasn’t much further to the Brambles’ ranch. Once they reached it, Thea would be able to run. Then would come the hardest part of the visit—seeing whether Mrs. Bramble was willing to care for a child as active as Thea and whether Thea would like the woman.
    Sarah had hardly slept last night, thinking about everything she’d seen in Ladreville and how, if she saved her money carefully, she would be able to buy one of those fairytale houses for herself and Thea. They’d be independent then, and there’d be no need for a horse, even one attached to a wagon. But no matter how much Sarah might want to work at the mercantile, Thea’s needs came first. If Sarah couldn’t find the right woman to care for her, she would have to find another way to earn the money they needed.
    “We’re almost there.”
    Larger than the house at the Bar C, the two-story building that formed the center of the Lazy B ranch was also surrounded by more outbuildings than the Bar C. According to Clay, Mrs. Bramble had once tried to be self-sufficient and had employed a farrier as well as ranch hands and enough men to till the acres she’d devoted to farming. Though she’d abandoned farming once Ladreville’s residents began selling their produce, the extra buildings remained.
    As the wagon rattled its way up the lane, the front