Free Vivid by Beverly Jenkins Page A

imagined. He walked to the screened door.
    Her voice stopped him just as he pushed it
open. "Mr. Grayson?''
    Nate turned back.
    Their eyes met and held.
    "Thank you," she said quietly.
    He surveyed her a moment, then nodded.
"You're welcome.''
    And he was gone.
    That night, Nate lay in bed in the big
attic bedroom. He'd been thinking about the doctor most of the evening. How
would folks react? He assumed she'd receive staunch support from the women,
especially from his aunt and Miss Edna over at the store; although the Quilt
Ladies could be a problem if they decided the doctor didn't match their
old-fashioned image of womanhood. But it was the men of the Grove who would be
hardest to bring around. Hell, if Nate himself had such little faith in her, he
could imagine the grief she'd receive from some of his male neighbors. In fact,
the debates had probably already begun with the news of her arrival. He would
have to remain neutral in order to be fair to both sides. Even though he had
his opinion, it would not be right for him to influence the others.
    Nate still held fast to his belief that
she would be gone before the first winter snow. She was from San Francisco, for
heaven's sake. However, if her success here depended on sheer will and
determination, she'd win hands down. He truly believed most females would not
have had the gumption to confront him as she'd done in town today, and none
would have gone so far as to shoot a hole in his hat. He dearly hoped Magic
would not become too attached to the good doctor, because the two of them
together would only bring trouble. More importantly, he didn't want Magic to be
heartbroken when the doctor pulled up stakes and high-tailed it back to San
Francisco.

Chapter 5
    V ery early the next morning, a pounding on the door awakened Vivid
from a sound sleep. Stumbling from the cot, she stuck her arms into her robe
and crossed the plank floor to the door. She expected to find someone in need
of medical assistance or maybe Nate Grayson; what she found was a brawl in
full-swing in the yard. Men were everywhere; punching one another, violently
wrestling in the grass, standing nose to nose and arguing at the tops of their
lungs.
    There were other men in the yard, too, all
dressed in their Sunday best and lined up as if waiting to purchase theater
tickets. In their hands were bunches of wild flowers, squawking chickens, hams,
and even animal pelts. Others were accompanied by goats or sad-faced children,
and one man held the lead to a spotted milk cow. Vivid could only stare,
amazed.
    "Quite a sight, isn't it?"
    The question came from a man standing on
the porch. He smiled kindly at her with a sparkle of mischief in his
smoke-black eyes. His handsomeness rivaled Nate Grayson's—in fact, the
two men looked enough alike to be brothers. "I'm Eli Grayson," he
said. "Abigail's son and Nate's cousin. You must be the new doc."
    "Yes, I am. Dr. Viveca
Lancaster."
    He shook her outstretched hand. "I
heard Nate threw a fit when you arrived. I also heard you shot his hat off his
head."
    "Yes, he did. And yes, I did. But
tell me, what is all this?" she asked, indicating the chaos in her yard.
    "They're deciding who gets to see you
first."
    "What?"
    “Where are you from, Dr. Lancaster?''
    "California."
    "Ah. Well, I don't know what this is
called in California, but here it's called courting."
    Vivid stared. "Courting?"
    "You're unmarried, or at least that's
the story going around. They think you'd make a good wife.''
    Vivid looked over the men, some standing
triumphantly over opponents knocked out cold and prone. She couldn't decide
whether to be flattered or appalled. "Mr. Grayson—"
    "Call me Eli."
    "Eli, I didn't come here for a
husband," she explained with a hint of exasperation. "I'm here to be
a physician."
    To her surprise, he pulled out a small
sheaf of papers and a pencil. "Can I quote you on that? I run the
newspaper."
    Before she could answer, the drama in the
yard took on new proportions as a