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curling around her face.
    Tucker made room for her to come through the growing crowd, and she rushed past him to the prostrate doctor. She knelt beside the man, her full skirt flowing around her. She picked up his wrist and checked for a pulse.
    Softly she called, “Doc, can you hear me?”
    Receiving no response, she opened her bag, reached in and pulled out a vial of smelling salts. Quickly she passed the ammonia beneath the doc’s nose.
    He coughed and sputtered, but his eyes opened. “What in the hell? Where am I?”
    She laid her hand on his shoulder and warned him, “Lie back, Doctor. Don’t try to move. You’ve been hurt.”
    With a groan he laid his head back in the dusty street.
    “Can you tell me where it hurts?” she asked. “My head is splitting,” he said, shutting his eyes against the bright afternoon sun.
    Quickly she checked for broken bones, frowning when she came to his leg.
    “You’ve taken a nasty fall. I know your leg is broken, probably several ribs, and I’m worried you may have internal injuries.”
    She stood and walked over to Tucker. “I need a stretcher to carry him back to his office.” She looked back at the doctor. “Your office is where you still keep your hospitalized patients?”
    He nodded slowly.
    “Okay, I’m going to need a wagon to take him to the hospital.”
    The doctor moaned, then turned and retched in the street losing the contents of his stomach.
    Sarah hurried back to her patient and tried to make him more comfortable. She glanced up at Tucker. “Now. Get moving. We need to move him inside and get him as comfortable as possible.”
    Tucker, who until that moment had been staring at Sarah, amazed as she went about taking care of the doctor, turned and yelled orders to his deputy. “Run down to the doc’s and get that stretcher I know he uses. Charlie, can we borrow your wagon?”
    “Sure!”
    In a matter of minutes, the wagon was in place, and the deputy arrived with the stretcher. With care they lifted the doctor and placed him on the litter, then loaded the injured doctor into the wagon, while Sarah climbed up beside the man.
    “Is he going to make it, Sarah?” Tucker asked quietly, so his friend couldn’t hear his question.
    “I don’t know yet. He’s got a concussion, a broken leg and possibly some internal injuries. Not to mention the scrapes and bruises. We’ll know more in the next twenty-four hours. Do me a favor and tell my grandfather I’m at Doc Wilson’s if he needs me.”
    “What about Lucas? Who’s watching him?” Tucker asked.
    She turned and gazed at him, her blue eyes luminous in the bright sunshine. She swallowed. “Grandfather is with him. I left them playing on the floor.”
    “Okay. I’ll check on you later.”
    “Fine.” She glanced up at Charlie, who was sitting in the driver’s seat. “Let’s go.”
    Tucker stood back from the wagon and watched as it rolled down the street. Now that their only resident doctor was hurt, what would the town do if Doc Wilson died? What would they do if Sarah left?
    Thank God she was here. His mother had tricked Sarah into coming home; now if only they could somehow convince her to stay. But would she, considering their past?
    ***
    Two days later Tucker walked into the doctor’s infirmary, his hat in his hand, and found Sarah sitting at the desk.
    “Hello,” she said, as she glanced up from the notes she was making.
    “Good morning,” he said, noticing the way the blue dress she wore heightened the color of her eyes, reminding him of the lavender growing in his mother’s garden. Sarah’s eyes were not only beautiful in color, but they were warm, expressive and, most of the time, friendly. “How are you?”
    “Fine. Other than using outdated equipment, the doctor has a nice practice here.” She laid the ink quill down and looked up at him. “If you want to see the doctor, he’s resting. I’ve set his leg and it should heal, but I’m still concerned about him. He’s still