The Nurse’s Curing Gaze (Preview)

Prologue

Edward Troy turned over on his back, feeling the mud all around him squish under the heavy weight of his body and the gear he was carrying. He lifted his right arm and slapped his hand down on his helmet, trying to close out the explosive sounds around him, the gunshots, the whiz of bullets as they passed by him, the hum of anxiety and fear in his ears. 

So far, so good. He hadn’t been shot, and he’d managed to avoid being spotted by the enemy. There were snipers in the trees around him. He was fully aware of it. If there was one thing about the war he was fighting that scared him, it was snipers. 

Eddie turned over on his side and pushed to his feet but stayed in a crouched position. He moved along the side of a burned-out hut and peeked around the edge to see if the enemy was blocking his path. If he continued up this street, through the nearly abandoned village, and traveled west toward the setting sun, he would get to the next encampment where his unit of soldiers would be. 

He’d lost track of his buddies long ago. He’d seen several taken by a well-placed bullet while others stepped on a mine or were hit by shrapnel. Never before had Eddie seen so much blood or heard so much pain in the cries of grown men… he hated it. He wanted out. He’d given enough of himself to this war. 

On the other hand, Eddie wasn’t the kind of man to back down from a fight. He’d gained the reputation of a man who was quiet, observant, and to be feared for those reasons. He was judged as “mysterious” and liked it that way. He preferred that only a few people knew his business. 

As a young man in his late teens and early twenties, Eddie had traveled around Nevada with his brother, Nelson, robbing banks and generally wreaking havoc wherever they went. He was a sullen and angry young man and hated every minute of his existence. So when the war came, he jumped at the chance to get away from his life and out of Nevada.

Now Eddie was in Missouri. He didn’t know anything about the climate or the layout of the land. But he was determined to get to the encampment, no matter what it took.

That was his continual thought until he felt the stinging, burning pain of a bullet ripping through his left arm. His hand immediately went numb, a feeling he didn’t like in the least. It was almost as bad as the pain from the bullet. The agony ripped through his body like mental fragments of the shot. His brain overloaded, and blackness covered everything. 

Eddie woke up with a start. The sudden jerk on his body immediately reminded him what had happened, and panic seized his mind. His wide eyes darted from left to right. Where was he? What had happened? What was going on?

He felt his body jostle from side to side, sending a dizzy sensation through his brain. He squeezed his eyes closed tightly and opened them again. The fuzziness around him cleared. The cart underneath him was made of old wood. The squeaking of the wheels as they moved along the dirt path met his ears and reminded him that he couldn’t hear any gunshots, any shells exploding, or any men screaming. 

He’d been rescued. 

He looked up at the woman sitting next to him in the cart. Her eyes were filled with concern. Was that for him? Who was she? Did she know him? If so, how? He didn’t recall her face in his memory. And he was quite sure if he’d seen a freckle-faced beauty with a mane of auburn hair and light brown eyes before, he would have remembered her.

“What’s your name?”

She didn’t answer him. She just kept staring out in front of her, bobbing her head to the side every few seconds to see around the driver of the cart. 

Maybe she hadn’t heard him. He had to say his own heart was pounding so hard he was having a hard time hearing anything other than that. And she did look fearful. She glanced down at him, and he took the opportunity to ask her again.

“What’s your name?”

The look on the woman’s face changed. Her eyebrows furrowed together, and she leaned close to his ear. 

“Don’t try to speak,” she said, her lips brushing the skin of his ear and sending a tingle through the right side of his body. “You’ve sustained several injuries. We’re taking you to the doctor’s recovery house, where we’ll bandage and care for your wounds. So don’t you worry any right now, all right? I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

He wanted desperately to know her name. Why couldn’t she hear him? Why wasn’t he speaking correctly? Was there something wrong with his face?

A moment of vain fear split through him. Had his face been injured when he fell over after being shot through the arm?

Had he been shot through the arm at all? Maybe he’d gotten hit in the head and only thought it was his arm, and half his face was gone.

Eddie frantically stuck out his tongue after sliding it along his teeth. He still had them all. His lips were there. His mouth was pretty dry, though, and he really didn’t have the strength to continue trying to speak. He was exhausted, frankly. Maybe he could just take a little nap on the way to the doctor. 

He kept his eyes focused on her face as they closed, wondering what her name was. If he went to sleep, would she be there when he woke up? 

Chapter One

Molly Scanlon reached across the table and snatched a small tangerine from the fruit bowl between herself and her sister, Virginia, who snickered at Molly’s success at getting the last one. 

“You and your oranges,” Virginia said, laughing softly. “Someday, you’ll turn into an orange.”

Molly giggled behind her hand, glancing at her mother, who was shaking her head at her daughter’s antics. 

Molly was feeling particularly happy that morning, though she shouldn’t have been. After breakfast, she’d be heading to the doctor’s recovery house to help treat the wounded soldiers they’d picked up the day before. 

The last round had been Molly’s and the doctor, Roger Myers, a hard-nosed but extremely successful medical man. He knew what he was doing and had saved hundreds of lives in the last eighteen months since the war began. Molly had always been impressed with his vast knowledge and struggled to keep up with him, learning as much as she could over the course of her time with him. 

She’d started helping with the war wounded only eight months ago. It had taken her a long time to convince her parents to let her even help out. They were terrified she would be caught in the crossfire on one of their missions to retrieve the bodies of the wounded and the dead.

Molly felt more at home with the work now than she had at the beginning. It hurt her heart every time a young man came in, years younger than her, some without a limb or two, others covered in blood, their wounds unidentifiable until they were cleaned up. Sometimes the blood they were covered in wasn’t even their own. 

Molly didn’t think about the fact that she was becoming accustomed to the hardship around her. She sometimes wondered if others thought badly of her because she could smile and sing during such tragic times. 

If they’d asked, she would have told them why she behaved the way she did. Molly was a naturally positive person, grateful to be alive and able to help those who couldn’t help themselves. She believed she could make the lives of others better by being her naturally happy self, bringing smiles where there were so many tears. 

She peeled her orange and delighted at the delicious, tasty food that filled her mouth and stomach. She was grateful and said a quick prayer of thanks that morning as she finished her eggs and bacon. 

“How many men did you bring in from the trenches last night, Molly?” her father asked, eyeing her over his newspaper, a cup of coffee in front of him, steaming in curls. 

“Five,” she replied bluntly. “They weren’t in good shape, Papa. You wouldn’t have wanted to see their injuries. I hope Dr. Myers can save them all.”

“Well, from what you’ve learned, what do you think of their chances?”

Molly thought about the men. She still had the splinters to prove she’d been on the trek with the doctor. That wooden cart needed to be replaced. It was worth the little pinches, though, to get as many men back to the recovery house as possible.

“Out of the five, I think four have a better-than-average chance while the fifth one… he might not be as lucky. Dr. Myers might have to perform a miracle.”

“Don’t tell him that,” her father, Anthony replied with a chuckle. “He’ll tell you it won’t be the first.”

“Oh, Tony,” Molly’s mother, Petrina, responded to her father’s teasing in an amused voice. “Don’t be like that now. The doctor has taught our girl a lot of knowledge. She’s almost as capable as he is. I’d certainly trust her if I had to have a limb removed or an infection treated.”

“You’re right there, Pet,” Anthony replied, “but you know what I said is true. You can’t deny it. You really can’t.”

“Oh.” Petrina just shook her head as she spoke, her smile small but visible. 

Molly watched them banter, thinking about one of the men she and Dr. Myers had brought back from the trenches in the county surrounding Dark Leaf, Missouri, where she lived. Their little town was almost untouched by the war. The fighting seemed to cease just a few hundred yards from the outskirts of Dark Leaf.

The fact that their town escaped much of the fighting was one of the reasons Molly wanted to help out at the recovery house. It was the least she could do.

She pictured the man in her mind, his left arm bone shattered by the bullet that went through it, right below his elbow. The jarring of the shell had ricocheted up his arm and caused damage to his shoulder and the muscles that ran through both. 

He’d been lucky the effect hadn’t caused a broken neck. That would have killed him. She was sure of that. Or he would have been paralyzed from the neck down.

“How much is the doctor letting you do, Molly?” her sister, Stephanie, said out of nowhere. Molly’s attention was drawn to the young woman who looked so much like her, freckles and all. Stephanie’s eyebrows were raised. “Well?” she asked impatiently. “Has he changed? Is he going to give you the credit you deserve for all the lives you’ve saved? Let you do more work in front of other people?” 

Molly sighed. She didn’t want to talk about it. She shook her head. 

“He will always be the same doctor, the man that he is,” she replied. “I don’t expect differently.”

Molly didn’t expect differently. But she did hope for more. She wanted to have her own hospital or clinic and be a true, trained doctor that other people entrusted with their health care. She wanted to help people heal from their injuries and diagnose illnesses and perform treatments. She wanted all the responsibility she saw Dr. Myers taking daily. 

Right now, during the war, she wasn’t as concerned about getting the credit.

All she wanted was for as many men to live through it with their bodies and minds as intact as possible. She would do whatever she could to help make that happen, even if it meant crawling into the trenches to pull out some poor soul who probably didn’t really want to be there in the first place.

She sucked the juice out of the orange slice, listening to yet another conversation about how women knew their place and how it wasn’t fair or just. No one disagreed with Molly’s sisters, but the family did often take the brunt of the sisters’ ridicule for those who did. 

Chapter Two

Molly waved to her father as he pulled the buggy away from the recovery house. As she went up the three steps to the long deck, she scanned the occupants of the chairs outside. There were a dozen or more places for injured or ill people to sit and get some fresh air and sunshine. At that moment, there were four people out there. They all had their eyes closed, and Molly wouldn’t bother them, even if she suspected they were awake. Who was she to interrupt their rest time?

“Good morning, Helga,” she said, lifting her hand to the head nurse, who did the overnight shift. Helga gave her a stiff smile, which was practically the woman’s trademark. Molly knew it was just the way Helga’s face was. It was almost a square, and her hair had gone gray early. She was only forty with a full head of gray hair.

“Morning, Molly. You’ll be working the ground floor today with the new arrivals. Can you handle that?”

Molly lifted her eyebrows and smiled. “You know I can, Helga. You don’t have to worry at all.”

Helga smiled again, and this time it almost didn’t look forced. 

Molly headed past her, knowing they were crossing paths as the head nurse was leaving and Molly was arriving. They didn’t speak much. If anything happened overnight, Helga would have made sure to tell her. That meant all the men had survived since Molly left at eleven the night before.

The room she entered was huge. It had eight beds lined up along the sides. She walked to each bed in turn, smiling and greeting the man that lay there, whether he was responsive or not. Two men were asleep, and she didn’t wake them. She checked the folder in the slot on the end of each bed for name and status. She’d gotten into the habit of doing that, so she never forgot to call someone by his name. It was a matter of respect.

She sat down next to Jack Humphries, who was wide awake and waving her over. He had a big smile on his face. 

“Look,” he was saying eagerly, shaking a letter in front of her and pushing it into her hand. “Look, my girl, Nicole, she’s waiting for me back in Oklahoma. I’m going home. I get to go home.”

“I’m so glad to hear that, Jack,” Molly said, genuinely happy for the young man. He was only nineteen and had left behind a new bride just six months ago. Now that he’d lost one of his feet, he would go home and see the birth of their first child, due in a month. 

“I have to see that baby gettin’ born,” Jack said enthusiastically. “He’s gonna be a big strong boy. You just watch and see. I just know it.”

“I’m sure he will be, Jack,” Molly replied. “But what will you do if it’s a girl?”

“Then she’ll be a big, strong girl,” he responded, puffing his chest out. He jiggled his elbow in her direction, winking at her, “Just like her momma. I can’t wait to get back to Nicole. I’m gonna be a proud papa.”

“Congratulations, Jack. Really. I’m so happy for you.” 

When their conversation was over, Molly moved along to the next bed, trying not to think about the fact that each one was filled. The ground floor was for the most severely wounded and the new arrivals. Jack was only there because he was waiting to be discharged. He was also a popular patient with the staff and the other patients. Always upbeat, kind of like Molly herself. 

Molly headed toward the end of the line, where the man she’d thought about all night lay half-sitting up asleep. 

Before she got to his bed, though, she stopped at the one before it. The man lying in that bed was known to her. When he’d been brought in, he’d been unconscious and unable to greet her as a friend. 

But now he was sitting up, an open book on his lap. He must have sensed she was there, standing and staring at him because his eyes flipped up from the pages and met hers. His grin was instant and wide.

“Molly!” he said. “Molly Scanlon, well, I’ll be! Look at you, all grown up.”

Molly laughed, shaking her head, and going over to him. “You silly man, it’s only eighteen months since you left to fight in the war. That’s less than two years. You’ve known me since I was little, but the last time I saw you, I was….” She looked up as if doing a major calculation in her head, “Twenty-two? Yes, I was probably twenty-two and all grown up.”

Her gentle sarcasm was met by laughter from her old friend. 

She shook his hand with a kind pat. “It’s good to see you, Atticus,” she went on, sitting in the chair by his bed. “You look like you’re doing well. I’m sorry you were injured.”

“I’m doing better now that I’m back home. I’m hoping to stay. I’ve done my duty, I think, been there on the front lines since day one. I think I should be able to go back to Dark Leaf… well, stay in Dark Leaf and pursue a particular blond-haired beauty we both know. How is she, Molly? Tell me she isn’t married and on the way to having a child.”

Molly knew he was kidding but also not kidding. Since they were all teenagers, he had been in love with her friend, Daphne Conners. They were similar in age, with Daphne being the youngest at 23, Molly at 24, then Atticus at 26. They’d been close all their lives. She was delighted to see him.

“She isn’t married or having a child,” Molly replied, lowering her voice out of respect for the others in the room. “And I just know she’ll be excited to see you.”

“You’ll tell her I’ve come back for her, won’t you?”

Molly raised her eyebrows, amused by his enthusiasm for Daphne. “I’ll tell her you were wounded and sent back to the recovery house and that you plan to stay now. If they’ll let you.”

“Yes, yes, however, you want to put it,” Atticus replied, waving one hand in the air dismissively. “Just get her here. You can make it sound like I’ve been on death’s doorstep if you want. You don’t have to lie, but you could make it sound a bit worse than it is.” He laughed and shook his head. “Not enough to scare her, mind! Just enough to make her come rushing to throw her arms around me and tell me she can’t live without me.”

“Oh, Atticus, you’re such a card,” Molly laughed. “But I’ll tell her something to get her here. I promise.”

Chapter Three

Molly conversed with Atticus until she saw the man in the bed next to him stirring. He was sitting up halfway, turning his head from left to right and back, a worried expression on his sleeping face. 

“He’s having a nightmare,” Atticus said, concerned. “You should help him.”

Molly’s heart jumped in her chest. He wasn’t dead, she told herself. His injuries hadn’t been life-threatening. They would have been, his arm in particular, but since they’d reached him quickly, they were able to take care of his wounds early enough. 

Something about that particular man drew Molly to him. It was the look in his eyes when he’d regained consciousness just for a moment when they’d been in the cart on the way back to the recovery house. His blond hair was matted to his head with blood, mud, and gunk from the heavy rains Missouri had sustained over the last week. His green eyes had a haunted look about them. He’d come to a few times while they set his arm and tended to his other wounds, but he likely didn’t remember it. He’d been in too much pain. His body had gone into shock. 

Molly moved around Atticus’ bed to stand and look at the man for a moment. She went closer and rested one hand on his uninjured shoulder. He stopped shaking his head back and forth, relaxing under her touch. 

His left arm was set in a sling to his side. He was sitting up halfway with pillows stacked behind him so he could sleep. His hair had been washed and brushed by one of the night nurses. It was somewhat curly, rippling on top of his head like tiny yellow waves. 

Molly liked it. 

She blinked, leaning closer, wondering if she should wake him up just to see if he was feeling all right when he turned his head and opened his eyes.

“Edward?” she said his name softly, not wanting to jar him into reality. Sometimes, dreams would have men in a stupor for a good minute after waking. She’d found it was never a good idea to be too loud with them. 

He didn’t have a familiar look in his eyes when she said his name. She’d seen it before. The soldiers that came through the recovery house were often not just injured by the physical damage done to their bodies. Their minds were frequently unclear, their sleep filled with nightmares that made them scream in agony or fear. That had been one of the hardest things Molly had to get used to. She hadn’t seen a choice in the matter. If she wanted to help these hurting men, her only option was to harden her heart, so she didn’t sob like a baby whenever the sound met her ears.

Edward hadn’t been screaming like that, but he’d definitely been caught in a frightening dream. His eyes focused after a moment, and he said quietly, “Just Eddie.”

She sat down in the chair beside the bed and looked up at him. “Are you comfortable like that, Eddie? Do you need fresh pillows and blankets? Sometimes the ones used overnight get sweaty and damp. We don’t need you catching a chill.”

“I don’t think I was sweating,” Eddie responded kindly. “But thank you.”

She smiled at him. “I’ll have to check your bandages if that’s okay. Do you remember much of last night?”

“You brought me in here on a cart, didn’t you?” he asked in a faraway voice. 

“I did, yes. I was helping Dr. Myers. He’s the one who treated your injuries.”

“Don’t you go saying that.”

Molly turned abruptly and looked at Atticus through narrow eyes. “What are you saying, Atty?” she asked in a light tone.

He grinned at her, moving his gaze to Eddie. “She’s not telling the truth. She’s the one who dressed your wounds. I saw her doing it.”

“It was the doctor who told me what to do.”

Atticus snorted. “Yeah, eight months ago.”

Molly was a little surprised by the amount of knowledge Atticus had about her life. “And how would you know that, Mr. Banks?”

He winked at her, making her feel light in her heart. “Daphne wrote to me when I was somewhere I could get a letter. I got three whole letters. And she told me in one of them that you’d started learning from the doctor and had gone well past all the books you’ve read. Now you get to put it into practice. That’s what Daphne said.”

Molly would have to remember to thank her friend for speaking kindly about her in her letters to Atticus. She gave her old friend a warm smile. “How nice.” She looked back at Eddie, her heart skipping a beat at the look on his face. His green eyes were so curious. She expected him to say something, but he didn’t. He just watched them as if fascinated by the way the two related to each other.

“This is Atticus Banks,” Molly said, holding one hand out and gesturing to her friend. “We’ve known each other for years. Since we were very little, actually. He’s from here.”

Eddie dragged his eyes away from her and scanned the room. “Where’s here?” he asked, looking back at her.

“Dark Leaf, Missouri,” Molly and Atticus responded simultaneously. Molly gave her friend an exasperated look, but he just chuckled mischievously. She shook her head and settled her eyes on Eddie’s handsome face once more. He had no cuts or abrasions on it. All his bandages were below the neck. 

Molly stood up, going around his bed to check his sling position and comfort level. She also checked his heartbeat and pulse. All while Eddie watched her in silence. 

When she moved close to check his eyes, she noticed a haze she hadn’t seen before. She put one hand on his forehead and thought he felt a little warm.

“I think you have a fever,” she said, her heartbeat speeding up and her blood racing cold through her veins. That might mean he had an infection in his broken arm and shoulder. What if the effects of the bullet had reached his neck? Might he be paralyzed? Her heart went out to him. 

She hurried from the bed to fetch a bucket of water from the barrel outside the doors to the large room. She grabbed a clean cloth from the shelf above the barrel before returning to where he was still sitting in the bed, his green eyes on her, his face relaxed. 

Whatever he’d been dreaming about, he was over it now.

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“The Nurse’s Curing Gaze” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

As the war ravages on, Molly Scanlon is determined to serve her country in the only way she knows how – through healing. For the past year, she has been treating wounded soldiers and tending to their wounds, in Dr. Myers’ recovery hospital. Despite her own rule of not getting emotionally attached to her patients, she finds herself drawn to one particular man, the handsome yet enigmatic Edward that makes her heart skip a beat…

Will she make this exception and let her emotions heal his scarred heart?

Edward Troy faced many horrors of war and devastating losses before coming into Molly’s care with several serious injuries. When he wakes from his unconsciousness, the first thing he sees is a beautiful auburn-haired woman with mesmerizing green eyes. Although immediately drawn to her, he can not let himself open up to her because of the dark secret he is hiding…

Will he dare reveal the truth and risk losing her and his newfound joy?

Molly and Edward both share a common struggle – to find peace and happiness amidst the devastation of war. Can they run away from everything that haunts them or will their story be cut short before it’s even begun? When light is shed on Edward’s past will they be able to stand together against it, or will they be two more victims of lost love?

“The Nurse’s Curing Gaze” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 60,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Get your copy from Amazon!