One Shenandoah Winter by Davis Bunn

from Richmond of new budget cuts. Small mountain towns were the first to be hit when times got hard, since they lacked the political clout to protect themselves. Connie had spent five hours pleading and cajoling to keep their meager city-works budget intact, and still felt uncertain as to meeting their future needs.
    To make matters worse, over Thanksgiving dinner Poppa Joe had again pestered her to bring the doctor up for a visit. In his quiet, stubborn way he had finally worn her down. As much as she despised having anything further to do with the doctor, she had agreed to extend Nathan Reynolds one final invitation.

    Ever since the doctor’s arrival six weeks earlier, she had been hearing reports. Her own two visits had been brief and explosive, his reaction to her earlier invitations acerbic. She thus took quiet satisfaction from how the townspeople used Nathan Reynolds but otherwise steered clear of his cantankerous ways. All but Hattie; for some unexplained reason, she had continued with the duties of receptionist. Hattie claimed it was because they needed the money. But Connie felt her oldest friend was telling only half the truth, and she could not understand why.
    As Connie pulled up in front of the clinic, she spotted a familiar face. Will Green dropped the box he was carrying in the back of his truck and waved in her direction. The Greens’ homestead was one of the valley’s fringe farmlands. Connie waved back at Will and recalled hearing how the doctor had recently saved his wife’s life with an emergency operation. Something about her breathing.
    Connie climbed from her car and walked over, but she did not offer her hand. Many of the traditional mountain folk didn’t take to shaking a single woman’s hand, unless it was on a hoedown floor. “How are you, Will?”
    â€œHowdy, Miss Connie. Doing just fine, thankee.”
    â€œAnd your wife?”
    â€œShe’s makin’ steady progress, thanks to the Lord and Doc Reynolds.” He tossed a glance over his shoulder. “You heard anything ’bout whether the doc’ll be staying?”
    â€œNot yet.” She studied his truck, which was crammed full of boxes and strange metal apparatus. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œOh, me and some of the boys, we said we’d help him with—”
    â€œWill!” The clinic’s door slammed back on its hinges. “I thought I told you to get those boxes and the rest of that junk out of the front two rooms!”
    â€œJust gettin’ on it, Doc.”
    â€œWell, it doesn’t look like it to me!” Nathan Reynolds stomped down the three concrete steps. “The place is still packed to the gills, and you’re standing around here yapping! And what about those friends of yours?”
    Will Green was the kind of man who had never made a passing acquaintance with fury. Connie knew a number of such strong gentle men from hillside families, and it rankled mightily to watch the farmer peel the hat from his head and begin spinning it nervously with work-scarred hands. “They’ll be here directly, Doc. They promised soon as they were done up to—”
    â€œSoon is not good enough,” the man raged. He turned at the sound of footsteps scraping over the newly regraded gravel parking area. Hattie scurried over and gave him a decidedly nervous smile. He lashed out, “And you are twenty minutes late!”
    She cringed under his blazing ire. “Sorry, Doctor Reynolds, we had a late delivery at the store and Chad—”
    â€œI don’t want excuses, I want some discipline around this place! We’ve got a full waiting room and I’m in there by myself!” He wheeled back to the cowed farmer and shouted, “You and your lazy good-for-nothing—”
    Connie felt something snap in her head. “Now you just hold off that man!”
    In the sudden silence she stomped over to stand directly between Nathan