Read Midnight Rescue / The Proposal / Christy's Choice for Free Online

Miss Alice,” Christy said defensively. She handed him the tray, and he took it reluctantly. “She also told me that doctors make terrible patients.”
    â€œShe’s right about that, I’ll wager.”
    Christy put her hand on the doctor’s forehead. “You do feel a little warm.”
    He reached up and held her hand. His own was large and strong and warm to the touch.
    â€œI want to thank you for what you did yesterday,” he said. “I know how hard it was for you. And despite my teasing, I knew you would do a first-rate job. And that you did.” Then he added with a chuckle, “Far better than I would have done, trying to stand in as a teacher to that huge class of rambunctious children you teach.”
    â€œThank you for saying that,” Christy said, suddenly feeling shy under his intense gaze. Just then, David knocked on the door and peered inside. At the sight of Christy and the doctor holding hands, he stammered, “Maybe . . . should I come back?”
    â€œNo, come on in, David,” Christy said quickly, withdrawing her hand.
    David cleared his throat. “So how’s the patient?” he asked. He was dressed in his proper ministerial clothes—striped pants, a white shirt, and a dark tie. His hair was carefully combed. Christy always thought he looked older and more dignified on Sundays.
    â€œThe patient is already complaining,” Christy said. “I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or not.”
    â€œI happen to be suffering in silence.” The doctor held up his coffee cup. “You know, Christy, as much pain as you put me through, I could really use something stronger. A little of that moonshine would come in handy right around now.”
    â€œHow can you joke about that?” Christy cried. “It’s moonshine that nearly got you killed! What if that bullet had been a few inches nearer your heart? What if Duggin had hit your head?” She rolled her eyes. “Come to think of it, if he’d hit your head, the bullet would probably just have ricocheted off.”
    David nodded. “I agree with Christy, Doctor. As a matter of fact, my sermon this morning is going to be on the evils of moonshine. I’m hoping it will have some effect.”
    â€œTake my advice, David.” The doctor poked at his oatmeal with a spoon. “Don’t go meddling where you don’t belong.”
    â€œMeddling?” David demanded. “You’re sitting there with a hole in you, talking about meddling? Maybe you think these mountain men can guzzle all the homemade liquor they please, but when they endanger others. . . . Suppose that bullet had hit a child, Doctor? What then?”
    The doctor leveled his gaze at David. “No one knows more than I do about the pain and death these mountains have seen. But I’ve been here a lot longer than you. And I’m telling you, if you climb up in that pulpit today and preach against the evils of illegal liquor, you won’t accomplish what you’re hoping for.”
    â€œHow can you be so sure?” Christy asked. “You’ve never set foot in that church. You’ve never heard David preach, either. But I have. And he is a very persuasive speaker.”
    â€œI’m no theologian,” the doctor said. He pushed his tray aside once again, dropping the napkin over his now-cold oatmeal. “But I know that when you accuse people, a wall goes up. The last thing they’re interested in then is changing their views. All they do is crouch behind that wall to defend themselves.”
    â€œSometimes that’s true,” David said, “but just the same, I have to try.”
    The doctor ran his hand through his messy hair. “There’s something you two need to understand. Back in these mountains, there’s only one real source of money, and that’s the sale of good whiskey to outsiders. These people need food and clothes and