Deep in the Valley by Robyn Carr

get some church or charity group to help out. I keep blood in the refrigerator, infant formula in the broom closet. I use the sheriff’s office to help with pickup and delivery, patient transport and emergency assistance. I have a key to the café in case I need a large supply of ice when they’re closed. And sometimes it’s really hard to draw an income. I mean, the state and county will help with indigent patients, but in order to process that, you need the patient to fill out forms.” She shrugged. “Fortunately I have a good working relationship with the local agencies. But more often, I just get paid in eggs.” She smiled. “They’re the best eggs in the west, of course.”
    He listened so raptly it was easy to surmise his captivation. Or perhaps it was the look of a doctor having second thoughts….
    “You’ve had a very impressive education, and come from a big-city practice,” she continued. “You might think you want to be a country doctor, but your reality might be skewed by Andy of Mayberry reruns. It’s a lovely life here, but not always a simple one. At least not for the doctor.
    “For me it’s different. I grew up in the town doctor’shouse. I was coloring on the floor in the corner of his examining room while he was setting a tibia. I saw my first home birth when I was seven. And though my mother tried to intercede, I rode along on more emergencies than she thought was prudent. But I was raised by this town. When your dad is the town doctor, you see every citizen in your home at one time or another. And you end up visiting every one of them in theirs.”
    She stopped for a moment, trying to judge the rather awed expression on his face.
    “It isn’t my intention to scare you away. I just want to be sure you make an informed decision. I think you might be right for us, and there’s no question we need your skills here. But are we right for you?”
    “You haven’t scared me,” he said, relaxing into a smile. “I know a little bit about small town medicine. I paid off some of med school by working on a reservation in Arizona. Federal grant.”
    “Oh,” she said weakly. “Now I’m a little embarrassed.”
    “Don’t be. I purposely didn’t put it on my résumé.”
    “Because…?”
    He shrugged. “It really wasn’t what it might appear….”
    “I…I don’t think I understand.”
    “I’m not so noble. I needed money. It was a contract I made with the government. Med school for rural medicine. I borrowed money to pay off the grant so I could leave the reservation early and get into private practice.”
    “I see. So you don’t much like—”
    “The desert.”
    “Is that all that drove you out of the program?”
    “I was twenty-eight and more interested in a new car than serving mankind. Or in my case, womankind. I understand there will be poor areas here.”
    “Profoundly poor, Dr. Stone. Mostly in the outer, more rural and mountainous areas, although we have some people of very humble means right here in town. There are families who rely on me who can barely feed themselves…and we can have some very rough, lean winters for people who build and log and farm. So…what makes you think you could survive this?”
    “Two things. I’m ready for a different kind of medicine now. And…I don’t need the money anymore.”
    “I see.” She thought a minute. Regardless of his qualifications, which were stellar, it was imperative that she be convinced he knew what he was getting himself into—and that it appealed to him. This practice wouldn’t buy him any more Armani suits. “Tell me something, Dr. Stone. Why did you look so shocked when I described my work in this town?”
    “It wasn’t shock, it was fascination. Respect. I’ve never heard a doctor—anyone, for that matter—describe their work or their people or their life with such affection and pride. It was there even when you were talking about the most unappealing aspects of your role. You don’t just do your