Cassidy's War
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| Cassidy's War American Victorian Romance The Wild Rose Press |
The Civil War is over, but Cassidy's War is just
beginning.
Cassidy Stuart longs to attend medical school.
Training beside her physician father and serving as
a nurse during the war, have only increased her
desire to be a doctor with her own practice. When
the man who'd left her at the altar returns, she's
determined not to let him upset the plans she's set
for herself.
beginning.
Cassidy Stuart longs to attend medical school.
Training beside her physician father and serving as
a nurse during the war, have only increased her
desire to be a doctor with her own practice. When
the man who'd left her at the altar returns, she's
determined not to let him upset the plans she's set
for herself.
Until his mission is accomplished, George Masters must hide his identity as a Pinkerton agent as he investigates a
physician living in George's former hometown, a short distance away from Cassidy's home. When he finds Cassidy
hasn't married, he hopes he can rekindle their love while trying to protect her and townsfolk from the evil Dr. Madison.
Can their love be renewed despite the villain's desire for revenge against them both?
physician living in George's former hometown, a short distance away from Cassidy's home. When he finds Cassidy
hasn't married, he hopes he can rekindle their love while trying to protect her and townsfolk from the evil Dr. Madison.
Can their love be renewed despite the villain's desire for revenge against them both?
To read more click here.
Chapter One
Burkeville, Pennsylvania
April 11, 1870
"Help! Help me!"
The high-pitched, plaintive cry drew Cassidy Stuart's attention from the pots she washed in the basin on the table. She strode to the kitchen
window, drying her hands on a towel, and scanned for the source. There, at the base of the oak tree beside the house, a tow-headed boy
clutched his arm, the hand hanging limp.
Throwing down the towel, Cassidy grasped her skirts and swept out the door. Closer inspection revealed he was one of the Thompson
twins. Just this past week, she'd examined both of them. Was this Joey or Bart...? She had trouble telling them apart.
"Joey?" she guessed.
The boy lifted his dirt-streaked face. "Yes, ma'am." He bit his lip, his face crumpling.
Cassidy's heart lurched. Such was the way of little boys, always getting hurt. "You were climbing the tree, I reckon."
He nodded.
Helping him cradle his thin arm, she gently lifted the injured limb he held against his chest.
"I'm right sorry, ma'am," he muttered. "I know I shouldn't have tried to climb all the way up."
She glanced toward the top of the majestic oak. "How far up were you anyway?"
"Almost clear to the top." A slight smile crossed his face, quickly replaced by a grimace.
Gently, she probed and felt the break. Clean, thank God.
"Looks like it's broken. Stay right here, while I get it stabilized, then you can come into the office, and I'll make you a cast."
"Really?"
She smirked. "Sure. Now don't you move. I'll be right back." With a final glance to make sure he stayed, she rushed to her father's office.
Once there, a familiar pain washed over her as she remembered her father who had died in a carriage accident six months ago. She
glanced around the room which she still considered his office. Nothing had been changed since the day he had walked out the door to visit
an ill patient. She shook her head to quash the image of her father, Dr. John Stuart. He'd been so proud when she'd decided to be a doctor
after the war. But dreams were just that--dreams, some never coming true. Pushing her grief aside, she gathered a small splint and a roll
of muslin bandages and raced back out.
After securing the limb, she lifted Joey to his feet, taking care not to jostle the boy, and guided him into the office. He clenched his jaw,
obviously in a ton of pain.
"It's okay to cry," she told him.
"No, ma'am. Real men don't cry, especially in front of a lady."
Cassidy shook her head. What fool had told him that. "Once I get this set, I'll send someone for your ma."
He nodded and sat on the edge of the exam table. She wished someone else were home to hold him down while she set the limb. She
brought out the container of Plaster of Paris and clean bandages and mixed the plaster to fashion the boy's cast.
Joey's gaze followed her. "What will it feel like when you put that on?"
"A lot better than it does now. But you'll still have a lot of swelling, and your arm will hurt for a while as it heals. And you can't get this cast
wet."
"Yes, ma'am."
She gently unwound the bandage securing the splint and examined the arm. Dipping a rag into the pan by his side, she wiped off a bit of
dirt, then glanced at his face for any signs of distress. His jaw tightened, but he didn't cry out or flinch, although his face visibly paled. She
placed a tongue depressor between his teeth. "Now you bite down on this. I've got to set the bone so it heals right. If you feel like crying, you
go right ahead."
Joey bit down on the piece of wood, his eyes growing wide and his breathing strained. She hated like hell to hurt him, but the quicker she
worked, the better.
After lifting the arm, she straightened it, then prepared to pull. "Okay, one, two, three..." She set the bone, stealing peeks at the boy's face for
any undue distress. He bore down well.
"Good job. The worst is over. Now I'll wrap your arm in the bandage and smooth the plaster over it. Once it dries, I'll call on your ma."
An excellent patient, Joey nodded.
By the time she'd applied the plaster and allowed the cast to fully dry, the sound of the front door opening alerted her someone had arrived
home. The office door creaked inward to reveal Cassidy's mother.
Arlene Stuart brushed a hand over her honey-colored bun to smooth it as she strode into the office. "I see we have an unexpected patient."
"Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Stuart," Joey replied.
"He fell from the oak tree outside the kitchen," Cassidy explained.
"Oh, I see." She inspected the cast.
"I'm finished in here," Cassidy said, "so now that you're home, I'll fetch his ma."
"I'd be more than happy to look after Joey." Her mother walked her to the office door. "I saw that fancy city doctor in town...Madison." She
grimaced. "Folks don't have anything but praise for him. Think he's God's gift to the town now your father's gone."
"Doctor Madison," Cassidy spat. "He believes he can steal all our patients out from under us." She fisted her hands. "I just hope once
Quinn finishes his internship in Harrisburg, we can rebuild the practice."
Arlene sucked on her lower lip. "What about the women you've been seeing as a midwife. They aren't abandoning you, are they?"
"I'm not sure. Mrs. Tasker mentioned Doctor Madison the other day. Wondered if he might be able to give her those newfangled pain
relievers like ether or chloroform. And I'm not qualified to administer those."
"Oh, Cassie. I hope Quinn can help once he's back. Without payment from patients, we only have Matt's pay from the bank to keep us
going." She glanced back at Joey who played with a tongue depressor. "Why don't you let his ma know he's here so she can fetch him? I'll
keep him entertained in the meantime."
Cassidy nodded and left the office. She pinned her black felt hat on and threw a shawl over her shoulders, then sprinted to the Thompson
home at the far end of town. Cassidy knocked on the door, but when no one answered, she discovered Mrs. Thompson behind the house
hanging laundry. She stepped away from the clothesline at Cassidy's approach.
"Joey fell out of our tree and broke his arm. I've set it and put a cast on. My mother's with him now, if you'd like to come fetch him."
"I wondered where that boy had run off to. He's supposed to be cleaning out the chicken coop with his brother." With an exasperated sigh,
the woman set the laundry basket aside and hurried after Cassidy.
Once Joey and his mother left, Cassidy decided to stroll through town. She pinned her reticule to the waistband of her skirt and tucked a
small basket under her arm.
Across the street from the mercantile, she stopped. Bessie Mae Wilson and two other young women surrounded a tall, well-dressed man.
Cassidy pursed her lips as Bessie Mae twirled her lace parasol and wiggled her bustle.
Was it Dr. Madison preening in front of more patients he aimed to steal? She'd only caught a few glimpses of the man since he'd arrived in
town. He sported a thin mustache but was otherwise clean-shaven with chestnut hair on a handsome, though arrogant face, and appeared
to be an outrageous flirt. She made it a point to steer clear of him whenever she could. Cassidy lifted her chin and straightened her hat.
She'd seen enough of that charlatan.
She had stepped in the opposite direction when a familiar male laugh caused her to glance back. That voice had caused butterflies in her
stomach many times. Bessie Mae giggled and turned in Cassidy's direction. Peering beyond the woman, Cassidy glimpsed the man she'd
thought to be Madison. No, not the doctor. Getting a clear view, she gasped. The tall dark-haired man in gentleman's clothing was none
other than her former fiancé, George Masters.
Her urge was to turn and run as far as she could, but she froze in place. She hadn't seen George for five years, since he'd told her he
couldn't marry her because she deserved much better than him. After that, he'd left for lord knows where, leaving his ailing, alcoholic father
behind. Not that she could blame him. Amos Masters had never been a father to his sons, and George's three older brothers had run off as
soon as they were old enough. Amos had passed on several months ago, but no one could locate George, so the man was buried behind
his shack without ceremony.
So, why was George here now?
****
George Masters peered beyond Bessie Mae's parasol. She'd only been a girl when he'd left town. Gawky and gangly as he recalled. But
she'd filled out nicely, from her lush bosom to her perfectly rounded face. But frankly, he was perplexed by all the fuss. When he'd lived
here, he'd been nothing but one of those no-account brats of Amos Masters. Even after returning from Confederate prison camp, he was
looked on as nothing but his father's son, worthless in the townsfolk's eyes. He recalled all the stir he'd caused when Cassidy had
accepted his marriage proposal. Gossip spread all over town at his audacity of daring to wed the respected physician's daughter. But now,
after a five year absence, he'd returned to town wearing gentleman's clothes.
Bessie Mae babbled on, drawing giggles from her friends, who crowded around him. She boldly rested a gloved hand on his coat sleeve.
"So, do tell, Mr. Masters. What have you been up to all these years since we last saw you?" She batted her ginger-colored lashes.
Glancing straight ahead, he gulped. He extracted Bessie's gloved hand from his arm. The woman he both longed and dreaded to see was
in his sights. The woman he'd loved for years and planned to marry, Cassidy Stuart.
Her dark, shiny hair slicked smoothly back into a bun at her nape and jaunty felt hat, adorned with a feather, perched on her head. Dressed
head to toe in black, she would, of course, still be in full mourning for her father.
Burkeville, Pennsylvania
April 11, 1870
"Help! Help me!"
The high-pitched, plaintive cry drew Cassidy Stuart's attention from the pots she washed in the basin on the table. She strode to the kitchen
window, drying her hands on a towel, and scanned for the source. There, at the base of the oak tree beside the house, a tow-headed boy
clutched his arm, the hand hanging limp.
Throwing down the towel, Cassidy grasped her skirts and swept out the door. Closer inspection revealed he was one of the Thompson
twins. Just this past week, she'd examined both of them. Was this Joey or Bart...? She had trouble telling them apart.
"Joey?" she guessed.
The boy lifted his dirt-streaked face. "Yes, ma'am." He bit his lip, his face crumpling.
Cassidy's heart lurched. Such was the way of little boys, always getting hurt. "You were climbing the tree, I reckon."
He nodded.
Helping him cradle his thin arm, she gently lifted the injured limb he held against his chest.
"I'm right sorry, ma'am," he muttered. "I know I shouldn't have tried to climb all the way up."
She glanced toward the top of the majestic oak. "How far up were you anyway?"
"Almost clear to the top." A slight smile crossed his face, quickly replaced by a grimace.
Gently, she probed and felt the break. Clean, thank God.
"Looks like it's broken. Stay right here, while I get it stabilized, then you can come into the office, and I'll make you a cast."
"Really?"
She smirked. "Sure. Now don't you move. I'll be right back." With a final glance to make sure he stayed, she rushed to her father's office.
Once there, a familiar pain washed over her as she remembered her father who had died in a carriage accident six months ago. She
glanced around the room which she still considered his office. Nothing had been changed since the day he had walked out the door to visit
an ill patient. She shook her head to quash the image of her father, Dr. John Stuart. He'd been so proud when she'd decided to be a doctor
after the war. But dreams were just that--dreams, some never coming true. Pushing her grief aside, she gathered a small splint and a roll
of muslin bandages and raced back out.
After securing the limb, she lifted Joey to his feet, taking care not to jostle the boy, and guided him into the office. He clenched his jaw,
obviously in a ton of pain.
"It's okay to cry," she told him.
"No, ma'am. Real men don't cry, especially in front of a lady."
Cassidy shook her head. What fool had told him that. "Once I get this set, I'll send someone for your ma."
He nodded and sat on the edge of the exam table. She wished someone else were home to hold him down while she set the limb. She
brought out the container of Plaster of Paris and clean bandages and mixed the plaster to fashion the boy's cast.
Joey's gaze followed her. "What will it feel like when you put that on?"
"A lot better than it does now. But you'll still have a lot of swelling, and your arm will hurt for a while as it heals. And you can't get this cast
wet."
"Yes, ma'am."
She gently unwound the bandage securing the splint and examined the arm. Dipping a rag into the pan by his side, she wiped off a bit of
dirt, then glanced at his face for any signs of distress. His jaw tightened, but he didn't cry out or flinch, although his face visibly paled. She
placed a tongue depressor between his teeth. "Now you bite down on this. I've got to set the bone so it heals right. If you feel like crying, you
go right ahead."
Joey bit down on the piece of wood, his eyes growing wide and his breathing strained. She hated like hell to hurt him, but the quicker she
worked, the better.
After lifting the arm, she straightened it, then prepared to pull. "Okay, one, two, three..." She set the bone, stealing peeks at the boy's face for
any undue distress. He bore down well.
"Good job. The worst is over. Now I'll wrap your arm in the bandage and smooth the plaster over it. Once it dries, I'll call on your ma."
An excellent patient, Joey nodded.
By the time she'd applied the plaster and allowed the cast to fully dry, the sound of the front door opening alerted her someone had arrived
home. The office door creaked inward to reveal Cassidy's mother.
Arlene Stuart brushed a hand over her honey-colored bun to smooth it as she strode into the office. "I see we have an unexpected patient."
"Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Stuart," Joey replied.
"He fell from the oak tree outside the kitchen," Cassidy explained.
"Oh, I see." She inspected the cast.
"I'm finished in here," Cassidy said, "so now that you're home, I'll fetch his ma."
"I'd be more than happy to look after Joey." Her mother walked her to the office door. "I saw that fancy city doctor in town...Madison." She
grimaced. "Folks don't have anything but praise for him. Think he's God's gift to the town now your father's gone."
"Doctor Madison," Cassidy spat. "He believes he can steal all our patients out from under us." She fisted her hands. "I just hope once
Quinn finishes his internship in Harrisburg, we can rebuild the practice."
Arlene sucked on her lower lip. "What about the women you've been seeing as a midwife. They aren't abandoning you, are they?"
"I'm not sure. Mrs. Tasker mentioned Doctor Madison the other day. Wondered if he might be able to give her those newfangled pain
relievers like ether or chloroform. And I'm not qualified to administer those."
"Oh, Cassie. I hope Quinn can help once he's back. Without payment from patients, we only have Matt's pay from the bank to keep us
going." She glanced back at Joey who played with a tongue depressor. "Why don't you let his ma know he's here so she can fetch him? I'll
keep him entertained in the meantime."
Cassidy nodded and left the office. She pinned her black felt hat on and threw a shawl over her shoulders, then sprinted to the Thompson
home at the far end of town. Cassidy knocked on the door, but when no one answered, she discovered Mrs. Thompson behind the house
hanging laundry. She stepped away from the clothesline at Cassidy's approach.
"Joey fell out of our tree and broke his arm. I've set it and put a cast on. My mother's with him now, if you'd like to come fetch him."
"I wondered where that boy had run off to. He's supposed to be cleaning out the chicken coop with his brother." With an exasperated sigh,
the woman set the laundry basket aside and hurried after Cassidy.
Once Joey and his mother left, Cassidy decided to stroll through town. She pinned her reticule to the waistband of her skirt and tucked a
small basket under her arm.
Across the street from the mercantile, she stopped. Bessie Mae Wilson and two other young women surrounded a tall, well-dressed man.
Cassidy pursed her lips as Bessie Mae twirled her lace parasol and wiggled her bustle.
Was it Dr. Madison preening in front of more patients he aimed to steal? She'd only caught a few glimpses of the man since he'd arrived in
town. He sported a thin mustache but was otherwise clean-shaven with chestnut hair on a handsome, though arrogant face, and appeared
to be an outrageous flirt. She made it a point to steer clear of him whenever she could. Cassidy lifted her chin and straightened her hat.
She'd seen enough of that charlatan.
She had stepped in the opposite direction when a familiar male laugh caused her to glance back. That voice had caused butterflies in her
stomach many times. Bessie Mae giggled and turned in Cassidy's direction. Peering beyond the woman, Cassidy glimpsed the man she'd
thought to be Madison. No, not the doctor. Getting a clear view, she gasped. The tall dark-haired man in gentleman's clothing was none
other than her former fiancé, George Masters.
Her urge was to turn and run as far as she could, but she froze in place. She hadn't seen George for five years, since he'd told her he
couldn't marry her because she deserved much better than him. After that, he'd left for lord knows where, leaving his ailing, alcoholic father
behind. Not that she could blame him. Amos Masters had never been a father to his sons, and George's three older brothers had run off as
soon as they were old enough. Amos had passed on several months ago, but no one could locate George, so the man was buried behind
his shack without ceremony.
So, why was George here now?
****
George Masters peered beyond Bessie Mae's parasol. She'd only been a girl when he'd left town. Gawky and gangly as he recalled. But
she'd filled out nicely, from her lush bosom to her perfectly rounded face. But frankly, he was perplexed by all the fuss. When he'd lived
here, he'd been nothing but one of those no-account brats of Amos Masters. Even after returning from Confederate prison camp, he was
looked on as nothing but his father's son, worthless in the townsfolk's eyes. He recalled all the stir he'd caused when Cassidy had
accepted his marriage proposal. Gossip spread all over town at his audacity of daring to wed the respected physician's daughter. But now,
after a five year absence, he'd returned to town wearing gentleman's clothes.
Bessie Mae babbled on, drawing giggles from her friends, who crowded around him. She boldly rested a gloved hand on his coat sleeve.
"So, do tell, Mr. Masters. What have you been up to all these years since we last saw you?" She batted her ginger-colored lashes.
Glancing straight ahead, he gulped. He extracted Bessie's gloved hand from his arm. The woman he both longed and dreaded to see was
in his sights. The woman he'd loved for years and planned to marry, Cassidy Stuart.
Her dark, shiny hair slicked smoothly back into a bun at her nape and jaunty felt hat, adorned with a feather, perched on her head. Dressed
head to toe in black, she would, of course, still be in full mourning for her father.
copyright 2012 by Susan Macatee