Free The Widow and the Wildcatter: A Loveswept Classic Romance by Fran Baker Page A

that she hadn’t thought of that herself, and whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you.”
    “How about a cup of coffee?” Chance offered.
    Dr. Rayburn nodded. “Coffee sounds great.”
    In the kitchen Joni made the coffee and Chance cut three squares of her homemade gingerbread, topping them with fresh whipped cream. She refused to let herself think about how right it felt to be working side by side with him.
    When he’d finished his late-night snack, Dr. Rayburn wrote out two new prescriptions for Grandpa. “I’m going to lower the dosage on his prednisone, which seems to be keeping him awake, and give him some sleeping pills to help him relax at the end of the day.”
    Chance pocketed the prescriptions. When Joni opened her mouth in protest, he shrugged and said, “I have to pick up some casing in town on Monday anyway, so I might as well get them filled while I’m there.”
    “I’ll write you a check for whatever it costs.” She realized she would be reimbursing him with his own money, but she wasn’t about to accept his charity.
    “Speaking of casing …” Dr. Rayburn eyed Chance over the rim of his coffee cup. “Bat tells me you’ll be ready to start drilling next week.”
    “Good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise,” Chance confirmed.
    The physician smiled at Joni. “What are you going to do with all that money when your oil well comes in?”
    She grinned. “Pay you.”
    He set his empty cup in the saucer, his expression turning serious. “I told you last month that I was willing to settle for what Medicare pays.”
    “That’s not enough.” She rued the day they’d had to drop their health insurance, but like most rural families, they simply couldn’t afford the premiums.
    He shook his shaggy head. “There’s no Brink’s trucks in funeral processions.”
    Chance reached for Dr. Rayburn’s cup. “Would you like some more coffee?”
    “No thanks,” he declined. “Two’s my limit this time of night.”
    Joni glanced at the cuckoo clock over the stove, surprised to see that it was nearly midnight. “Gosh, I didn’t realize it was so late.”
    “Time flies when you’re having fun,” Chance quipped.
    “Anything special happen out at the crossroads tonight?” Dr. Rayburn asked casually.
    Her startled eyes met his wise ones. “What do you mean by special?”
    “Oh …” He tugged thoughtfully at his mustache. “You know, did anybody start a fight or kiss and make up. Did anybody fall in or out of love? The usual kind of special.”
    “Can’t think of a thing,” she said, and felt a twinge at the evasion.
    The kitchen clock cuckooed, its timing perfect.
    Joni yawned and stretched. “I’m afraid it’s way past my bedtime.”
    “Mine too.” Dr. Rayburn brushed gingerbreadcrumbs off the front of his wrinkled white suit onto the table. “I’m glad to see you’re starting to get out among ’em again.”
    “Starting and stopping in one fell swoop,” she stated emphatically.
    “Your being here wouldn’t have prevented Bat’s spell,” the physician said.
    “I know, but—” She looked away, a cauldron of guilt and rage suddenly roiling inside her.
    Dr. Rayburn leaned over and gave her a perceptive pat on the shoulder. “It wouldn’t have prevented that either.”
    She put a lid on her emotions and stood. “We’ll never know for sure, will we?”
    Mustache fluttering, the physician followed suit. “I guess not.”
    Chance hadn’t said a word during this last exchange. But on seeing that closed expression on Joni’s face—an expression he’d become all too familiar with these past two weeks—he decided to find out what the hell was behind it.
    Toward that end, he got to his feet and picked up the doctor’s black leather bag. “I need to put the top up on my car, so I’ll see the doctor out.”
    “Fine.” Joni stacked their few dishes and carried them to the sink.
    “Your grandpa should sleep all night with no problem after that shot I gave him,” Dr.