Chapter One

It was a hell of a way to meet a woman.

Dr. John Calloway, a commissioned police officer and Chief Surgeon of the North-West Mounted Police, had just finished in the operating room and was striding down the hall of the officers' quarters toward his bedroom, fighting exhaustion. Drenched in perspiration, John struggled with his white shirt collar, undoing another button. Damn, it was hot inside the fort. Even the air smelled hot. Dry pine planks and leather.

"Evenin', Sir," said two passing officers.

"Evening." Was it John's imagination or did they elbow each other and grin as he passed? John glared at them. "Something on your mind?"

"No, Sir." The sergeant glanced down at the papers spilling from his youthful hands.

"Then I suggest you hightail it to the paymaster's. He's looking for the schedules you're holding. As for you, Corporal Reid, we could use your help dousing those vacated beds."

"Yes, Sir," came the response.

John shoved a hand through the thick brown hair at his temple, swallowed the dryness in his throat and continued walking. His own fatigue never usually hit him until the worst was over. Under normal circumstances he'd be heading to his private house in town for dinner, then to sleep for the night. But in the past week he'd had six men in surgery at Fort Calgary and he'd been too busy for sleep.

It was still undecided whether the constable John had just operated on would lose his leg. There had also been the constable who'd lost his eye on a runaway bronco; two others with second-degree burns from fighting forest fires to the west; and finally the two discharged this mor