A Midwife Crisis by Lisa Cooke Page B

she was planning to fix for supper, and why he had looked at her lips like he wanted to taste them, and how he had continued to hold her hand when she’d given him the opportunity to turn loose.
    Shoot. There she was, thinking about him again.
    The crunching of dried leaves snapped her attention away from John and into the woods. Another snap and a low growl sent her heart into her throat. Clutching her stick in front of her, she scanned the forest for a sign of whatever was lurking. Just when she had about convinced herself her imagination was running wild, a large wolf appeared from behind a boulder. The hair around its neck stood on end as it lowered its massive head and growled. With a curl of its lips, the beast bared huge fangs, snarling as it walked toward her.
    Heart pounding, she gripped her stick firmly and faced the animal, praying it had no companions. She turned slowly, not breaking eye contact as it circled. Her only chance was going to be timing her swing to connect with its head if it attacked. She didn’t have to wait long. The beast released a feral roar and lunged toward her throat. Swinging with all her might, she slammed her stick into the side of the huge head, sending the attacker whimpering off into the woods.
    She turned and ran down the path, stick clutched in her hand, but in her haste she fell, banging her knee painfully against a rock. Scrambling to her feet, she continued her escape until she emerged from the woods onto the road that led to town, where she finally allowed herself the luxury of breathing. Gasping, she dropped onto a log beside the road, her eyes searching behind her in case the creature had followed.
    Her palms stung, and a quick glance showed them bleeding from her fall. But at least it wasn’t her throat. With shaking legs, she got to her feet and forced herself to walk the remaining distance to John’s house.
    “My God, what happened?” John exclaimed when he answered the door. Katie stood before him, muddy and bleeding, her shaking hand clutching a stick.
    “I was attacked by—by a wolf.”
    His heart dropped and without further thought, he scooped her into his arms and hurried her into his office. “Did it bite you?” He set her in a chair and began unbuttoning her coat.
    “No,” she muttered, her voice shaky. “I fell when I was running away.”
    He pulled her coat down her arm, but had to stop when he encountered her stick. “Katie?” She looked up at him, her breathing still labored, a large tear rolling down her cheek. “You can let go of the stick now.”
    Forcing her fingers to relax, she let the stick fall to the floor with a clatter, and John saw her bloody palm.
    “Hell,” he said. “Where else are you hurt?”
    “Um…” She paused, and he could tell she was forcing her mind to work. “I think my knee might be bleeding.”
    Quickly, he removed her coat, then crossed the room to retrieve bandages and salve for her wounds. He returned and knelt in front of her. “Which knee?” he asked, scooting her skirts up her legs.
    She pointed to the right one, but she didn’t really need to. The blood seeping through her torn stocking was a dead giveaway. He started to pull the stocking down, stopping himself when he realized he’d need to go well up her thigh to loosen the garter.
    “Can you pull down your stocking?”
    Nodding, she asked, “Would you turn around?”
    He wanted to remind her he was a doctor, but then, if he was only a doctor, the thought of touching her thigh wouldn’t have rattled him like it did.
    He stood and walked to a washstand to get some water while the rustle of fabrics and a tiny gasp told him she’d pulled the stocking away from her injury.
    “I’m finished.” Her voice sounded more like hers now that the shock was diminishing.
    He took a deep breath and faced her. She’d tucked her skirt around her other leg, leaving only the injuredone exposed, her stocking dangling around her ankle and above a very worn boot. How