Free Waiting for Morning by Margaret Brownley Page A

families could afford. “We’ll work something out,” he assured her. “The mostimportant thing right now is that Jimmy gets all the care we can give him.”
    She stared at him for a moment before turning to leave. She walked to the door as if in a trance. “Tomorrow.”
    Moments later Caleb stood at the window facing the street and watched Mrs. Trotter and her son drive away in a horse and wagon. It wasn’t even noon and already he felt inadequate. He’d been warned at medical school not to get emotionally involved with his patients, but how could he not?
    With a heavy sigh he lifted his gaze to the expanse of blue sky. Heavenly Father, Jimmy needs help—bad. We both do.

Chapter 9

    M olly stood, whip in hand, and tried to focus. She had been at the ranch for only a week and already she was exhausted.
    “Watch it!” Brodie yelled. “Don’t let him jump.”
    Despite her best efforts the horse headed for the fence, but Brodie managed to turn him at the very last minute. Brodie threw down his whip.
    “What’s the matter with you, girl? I told you not to let him jump.”
    Molly bit back tears. She was like a butterf ly afraid to light. She was forever racing between the horse corrals, barn, range, and house. Her days had no form or structure and time was but a blur.
    It was muck out the stables and check on Donny; exercise the horses and check on Donny; track down a stray steer and check on Donny. Every bone in her body ached, and today she was late taking Donny his lunch, yet again.
    Later that afternoon while the other ranch hands took a muchneeded respite from the hot sun, she searched for Rosita. She found the Mexican housekeeper at last in the washhouse in back. The girl moved about like a shadow, hardly making a sound. Today she stoodironing sheets, a dreamy expression on her face and her mind clearly miles away.
    Noticing Molly, she jumped and looked momentarily confused, like one awakened from a deep sleep. “You want something, señorita?”
    “Yes, I need a favor,” Molly said. “Do you mind?”
    Rosita shook her head, though the brown eyes regarding Molly from beneath a starched white cap clearly said otherwise.
    “I wonder if you would be so kind as to check on my brother during the day while I’m working?” Molly hadn’t wanted to ask anyone for help but she didn’t know what else to do. How ridiculous to think she could manage both taking care of Donny and ranch chores by herself.
    Rosita set one iron down and reached for another on the iron stove. “I work for Señorita Walker. Big house.”
    “Yes, I realize you have much to do, but what I ask won’t take long. I’ll pay you for your services.”
    Rosita shook her head. “No time.”
    “But I’m only asking for a few minutes a day, at most,” Molly persisted. “I just want you to check on him on occasion and, if need be, to move his chair to another spot so he doesn’t have to sit in the same place all day.”
    “No time,” Rosita repeated. She sprinkled the bedsheet with lavender water and pushed the heavy iron back and forth. Wispy fingers of steam curled ghost-like from the sheet she pressed.
    Molly left the washhouse close to tears, praying all the while that Brodie hadn’t noticed her absence.

    Caleb drove out to the ranch to check on Miss Walker’s horse. The place appeared deserted save for Miss Hatfield’s brother sitting onthe porch in his wheelchair. He was either asleep or reading, hard to tell which.
    “Come on, boy.” He lifted Magic out of the vehicle and set him on the ground.
    The steps leading up to the shaded verandah squeaked beneath Caleb’s weight and Donny looked up with a start, his book falling off his lap. His eyes were the same green as his sister’s but without the sparkle.
    “Sorry to startle you. It’s Donald, right?”
    “Donny.”
    Caleb bent to retrieve the book and set it on the table by the youth’s side. It was a book on celestial science.
    “Do you remember me?”
    “You’re the