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  A Nurse for Walter

  Nursing the Heart Romance

  Book 15

  MARLENE BIERWORTH

  Copyright © 2020 Marlene Bierworth

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without written permission of the author, Marlene Bierworth, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, character and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locals is purely coincidental.

  About the Book

  Nurse Shannon is a graduate from the Harrow School of Nursing and is sent to the Franssen hospital in Maple Grove, Tennessee, a mere day’s coach ride from her bordering home state of Kentucky. She is not expecting an onslaught of suitors to come calling. When her interfering father sends his choice for husband, and a carefree cowboy takes an interest in pursing her, but all the while, her heart yearns for the affections of her boss, Walter Franssen, the distraught woman soon realizes that any match will threaten her dream of working in the field of medicine.

  Will her heart win the battle over her head? Join the fated couple as they walk the fine line of a whirlwind courtship, filled with adventure, grief and heartbreak.

  Grab your copy of a Nurse for Walter today—a Christian romance journey that will be sure to satisfy your dream of happily-ever-after.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Copyright

  About the Book

  Table of Contents

  Chapters 1 through 12

  About the Series

  Author’s Bio

  Chapter 1

  May of 1868

  Shannon was a nervous wreck. She’d left Maryland two days ago, wishing with all her heart to be traveling in a different direction. Instead, she was headed to Tennessee, passing by her home town on the way—to which she had no intention of visiting one moment longer than the trains refueling time forced her to. Simply knowing she’d be forced back into the familiar setting caused her unnecessary anxiety, for her dream-life stretched forward bound, not backwards under her father’s thumb.

  The trip had been long, the stress of it causing Shannon’s resistance to weaken with each passing mile. She strived to keep the well-deserved jubilation at the forefront of her mind, focusing on her next great venture, but with too much time to think, found herself consumed with debilitating fear. What if she made a mess of her new job, dishonoring the reputation of the Harrow School of Nursing, and confirming her the faculties doubts concerning her ability to be a successful nurse?

  Even though outwardly she exhibited a strong independent career woman with an absurd fixation on detail, her confidence was sometimes lacking and often caused her to slipup at the simplest of jobs. Self-esteem was not her strongpoint. Of course, it had suffered a huge blow when one bright fall day, as she walked leisurely on the school grounds, she’d overheard the private discussion between her anatomy instructor and Ms. Constance Harrow. Shannon was hidden from view, but her professors, who were conversing in the director’s office, could be seen clearly by her—the student currently under discussion—and their voice carried through the open window to where she stood not eight feet away.

  “Now, where on God’s green earth, shall we place Nurse Tyre?” the head mistress asked while pouring over the folder containing the details of the past three months of classes and faculty recommendations. “She is not one to leave on her own; she needs a firm hand to keep her on the straight and narrow, even though she will fight it every minute of every day. But perhaps the discipline will strengthen her character.”

  The woman’s sigh expressed deep reflection, suggesting to Shannon that she was a perplexing challenge to place, when the new graduate regarded her own personality as rather dreary and generally easy-going in most matters. It was an eye-opener to witness first-hand how others regarded her.

  “Really?” Miss Rimes said. “I suggested the opposite to the student, recommending she continue her education and become a doctor. We both know she will not fall under hospital regulations easily, and may find it difficult holding a position within an institutional setting.”

  “You did what?” Ms. Harrow sounded shocked.

  “I figured with a doctorate she could open her own clinic, in some small, desperate frontier town. The woman is smart and thorough, just—”

  “Clumsy,” Ms. Harrow finished. “Is that the word you are looking for?” She waved a paper in the air. “This request is from the administration at the Franssen Hospital in Tennessee. They are in need of a nurse—someone to wipe noses and clean vomit off the floor.”

  “Hardly a noble fit for one of our graduates,” Miss Rimes argued. “Is that the reputation you want for our nursing school—women that are incompetent and janitorial quality?”

  “Now, you are sounding harsh,” Constance Harrow said. “Shannon has earned one of the highest scores in the May graduating class and it is my opinion that she simply lacks experience and self-confidence. Menial tasks will nurture and strengthen her weaker areas and land her in the place for which she is worthy—all at the proper time in her career.”

  “It’s your decision, Ms. Harrow. It appears we both agree that Nurse Tyre will bloom in her vocation, in her time and at her pace, if the woman doesn’t abandon her dreams under pressure.”

  “It’s settled, then; she will go to Tennessee, close to her family should she need their support, and we shall watch for her progress reports from the head of the hospital. I am confident she will not disappoint herself, her teachers, or smear the good name of our learning institution.”

  Constance Harrow closed the file and picked up the next.

  Shannon tuned out the conversation and dropped to the ground, her many layers of dress cushioning her, and leaned against the trunk of a giant oak tree. A “tom-boy in a gown” her father would say of her, and he’d be right. Being the only girl in a house of six boys had served to toughen her up, and she needed a dose of that strength now. That would be the only source of support she’d expect from her family. After disappointing Mr. Eugene Tyre’s efforts to make her the prissy wife of some wealthy gentleman, she needed more than ever to prove herself to her skeptical family and to those who put their faith in her ability to rise above her weaknesses and achieve her goals in the field of medicine.

  Shannon could easily have succumbed to defeat upon hearing from instructors—whom she’d greatly respected—such a negative analysis of her abilities to function in a hospital setting, but instead summoned the inner fight that always dispelled the threatening darkness. Her proud chin lifted and the newly graduated nurse elected to focus on the final words Ms. Harrow had spoken—that’s what she would carry away from the conversation. Nurse Shannon Tyre would not disappoint the women who showed a somewhat smidgen of faith in her ability to succeed in the field of medicine.

  Now, seated next to a window, with the countryside whizzing past her, she claimed peace beyond her understanding as the black iron beast continued southwest toward her new place of work.

  The final destination was located a stone’s throw from her home state of Kentucky; both were border towns and close enough that she felt certain her father would send suitors—those interested in saving a career woman from her self-inflicted fate—to her doorstep in Tennessee. She’d foregone the coming-out routine before she’d fled from the confines of home to study medicine. And as fate would have it, Constance Harrow, had purposely sent her to the Franssen Hospital, little more than a day
’s buggy ride from Tyre-Crest estate, in hopes family would offer the encouragement needed to succeed.

  It was too close to home for her liking, but no graduates argued with the locations assigned by the head-mistress of the school—most eternally grateful for securing any position in a man’s world.

  At the train station, she grasped the hand that the conductor offered and when her foot set upon the platform, the nagging fear seemed to trickle away. She scanned the area and her gaze stopped at the magnificence of the rolling hills of Tennessee. It gave her a back-home feeling without the suffocating weight the estate in Kentucky instilled.

  While watching the comings and goings of the crowds filtering through the depot, she kept an eye out for her bags to be unloaded from the storage car. From her pocket, she withdrew the address of the boardinghouse, located close to the hospital and providing suitable accommodations for a single woman.

  She heard the ruckus behind her and turned in time to see a stately looking lady in countenance and attire, pushed violently to the ground with her parasol following behind and the sharp prongs landing in her widely opened eye. The sunshade skittered along the platform, blown by a gentle breeze, while the deflated woman groaned in pain and covered her face with her hand.

  The two gentlemen—if one could categorize them so nobly—did not at first, succumb to fisticuffs. But when the one with the long unkempt hair began to withdraw a pistol from the gun belt hanging low on his hips, the other fished in his pocket and pulled out a derringer. When he mentally noted the timing was in his favor, he opted instead to take a nose-dive at his opponent. They both tumbled to ground, but on the way, the other managed to get off a misguided shot which landed in the woman’s leg. She screamed in pain, the hands leaving her shielded eye and wrapping around her leg. It appeared this was not her day.

  For two full minutes, the men tousled on the platform. Shannon heard a crack in the skull and a muffled shot, and when only one man wriggled free, he abandoned his opponent and quickly shifted to the woman’s side. He gathered the now unconscious woman in his arms and Shannon witnessed the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. The bullet was merely a surface wound, but the man appeared distraught.

  Bystanders on the platform scattered at the first sign of violence but Shannon had held her ground to watch how it played out, and when all activity ceased, she hurried over hoping to be of service.

  “Excuse me, sir,” she said. “I am a nurse if you would like me to look at her injuries.”

  The man was examining the woman’s leg with exploratory fingers through the thin fabric of her undergarments—rather intimate for a public place, but perhaps necessary to see the extent of her injury, Shannon presumed, determined not to judge. He lifted his head to acknowledge Shannon. “No need. I will take her to the hospital.” He lowered his head again as if to dismiss her, which only served to get her dander up. Had he heard her right?

  “Sir—I said I am a certified nurse and would gladly inspect her before you move her to the hospital.”

  He lifted his head slowly this time, and she noticed the green eyes that blazed with the inner fury he was obviously feeling at the moment. After all, he’d just gunned down a man and the confrontation had cost the woman at his side, injury. He nodded toward the other man who lay still. “If you’re so eager to help, why don’t you check out that chap. And if he’s still breathing, step on his juggler.”

  Shannon was shocked at his remark, but complied with half of his request. When she reached the man laying in a pool of blood, she knelt and felt for a pulse. When she found a faint beat, she lowered her head to his chest and an ever-so-slight beat confirmed her diagnosis. She called to the man who concentrated on the woman in his arms. “He’s still alive, but barely.”

  “Too bad.” The man stood to his feet and yelled to a fellow gawking nearby. “Mate, run to the hospital for the ambulance. We have two patients who need medical care.” When the man hesitated a split second too long, he shouted, “Go!” Without another word, he raced down the street to do the man’s bidding.

  From the ground, he looked at Shannon and shrugged his shoulders, “What’s the matter now?”

  “I understand you are upset over the situation you’ve just encountered, but really sir, need you bark your orders like a mad dog?”

  “You have not heard my bark, so if I were you, I’d be careful to remain in my good graces and avoid it entirely.”

  “Men! Are you all so insufferable?” She stood tall, meeting his penetrating gaze, holding it, and not backing down from his intimidation. “Shall I accompany you to the hospital, perhaps speak on your behalf to the authorities?”

  “The authorities?”

  “Well, yes. You did shoot a man,” she said, “but I clearly saw that he drew first and that you only fired in self defense.”

  Something akin to a grin played at the corner of his mouth. It might have been seen as an attractive quality, if he hadn’t stifled it with the staunch firmness of his features. His jawline was square and unforgiving. The man had a chip on his shoulder and due to the circumstances surrounding their meeting, Shannon assumed she was not seeing him in his best light, and softened her voice.

  “Only if I can be of help,” she finished. “I’m staying at the boarding house should you require a character witness.” Shannon turned to go and heard the low chuckle.

  “Thank you, nurse, for your aid. Anna will appreciate your concern when she comes to.”

  No mention of him appreciating anything, but Shannon chose not to let her first rude encounter with a man in her new hometown taint her enthusiasm. She offered a polite smile and headed for the pile of bags that passengers were now rummaging through. It took her ten minutes to meander through the bedlam and she sighed as she dragged a trunk and two bags off to the side. Glancing around the area, she wondered how she would get the load to the boarding house.

  From behind she heard a voice bellow. “Mason, help the lady get her bags to the boarding house; and be a gentleman about it.” Shannon turned in time to see the man she’d met earlier tip his hat toward her and then climb into the back of the trolly, which she assumed the patients occupied. The driver hit the lines on the back of the team of horses and they galloped off down the road.

  “Miss?” another voice interrupted her musing. She turned to see a lean man standing within arms distance from her—every inch the cowboy. The felt hat that perched low over his eyes, the plaid shirt, pants, leather square-toed boots, complete with brass spurs sticking out from his heels. She’d never met a real live cowboy—his kind definitely not making the list of suitable matches for Eugene Tyre’s daughter. Yet, that first day, standing amidst the slightly sullied surroundings and experiencing small-town frontier life, she found his countenance appealing and quite refreshing.

  He quickly removed his hat and smiled, the easy effort lighting up his entire face. “I have a wagon close by, and happen to be driving right past the boarding house on my way to the ranch.”

  “Thank you, I do appreciate your help, sir.”

  “You don’t need to sir me, Miss. The name is Mason Clemmons, at your service.”

  “I can bring the bags if you can manage the trunk,” Shannon said.

  He popped the hat back on his head, and Shannon drew strength from the fact that his carefree manner was the exact opposite of the uptight man who’d casually demanded that Mason see to her transportation needs. The cowboy reminded her of her younger brother—the thoughtful obliging one she’d missed terribly during the three months in Maryland. The fond memories enabled her to immediately warm up to the stranger before her.

  “This way, Miss…”

  “Miss Shannon Tyre,” she reached out her hand in greeting. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” His hand was genuine and welcoming and she derived strength from it.

  “Looks like you’re settling into Maple Grove,” he said as he grabbed the handle of the trunk and started to pull.

  “Yes, I am.” She stayed cl
ose to his side, attempting to portray the false appearance that the burden of two, rather stuffed bags, were an easy carry. After a moment, he snatched one from her, flung it on top of the trunk, and proceeded to yank both handles as if the combination were a feather-weight.

  “You one of those mail order brides?”

  “Oh, no, Mr. Clemmons. I’m in no rush to marry.”

  “Then you’re a businesswoman.” He held up his hand when she started to answer. “No, let me guess. You look about as pretty as a picture, so I’m thinking you will open a clothing store or perhaps a hair styling place.”

  “Wrong on both counts,” she said, enjoying the game.

  “Mm, you seem to be rather smart—after all, you’re hanging out with me, so maybe you’re a teacher or heaven forbid, not a nosy newspaper woman.”

  “Wrong again.”

  “What have I missed?” He appeared lost in thought then spoke, “Shucks, maybe you work at a hospital seeing you know the Doc.”

  “The Doc?” she asked.

  “Yeah, the bloke you were standing with at the depot. Of course! That coupling clear jumped from my mind when I saw you up close and my imagination cut loose.” He laughed. “But that’s it, for sure. I saw you examining to the dead man.”

  “He wasn’t dead,” Shannon said.

  “Doc won’t be happy about that.”

  “I’ve never met a doctor who goes around shooting people,” Shannon said. “Aren’t they usually in the healing business?”

  “Yes, they are indeed, Miss Tyre, and you’ll not meet a more dedicated physician hereabouts.”

  “You will forgive me if that does not speak highly of the hospital staff where I will be working.”

  “We take some getting used to, but you’ll settle in fine if you keep an open mind. Every town has its share of hooligans.”

  Shannon wondered how open one’s mind needed to be to succeed in town-life for all she’d ever known was the pampered seclusion of Tyre-Crest, trips abroad, or to big cities for shopping and upper-class entertainment with those sharing her father’s social status.