The Lone Texan Page 2

  "I'm Bonnie Faye Pierce. Dr. Lander's assistant.” Bonnie stood tall. "You got to be Drum Roak. She said you had the gray eyes of a wolf."

  Sage wished she could take back every word she'd ever said about Texas. She'd thought the stories on cold winter nights at the hospital were harmless. Everyone seemed to think they were just adventures in fiction. Now, Bonnie was staring at Roak as if he were a hero from a novel come to life.

  He lowered his voice and frowned. "Who is Dr. Lander?"

  Sage knew it was time to mention what she'd left out of her letters to her brothers. She only wished she were telling them first and not Roak. "I married five months ago. My name is Lander now."

  His stormy eyes flashed for a moment with something that might have been pain. "You're married?" he said. He straightened and added, "You're Dr. Lander?" All emotion suddenly was gone from his voice.

  "Widowed," she answered.

  Eyes that had drunk in the wonder and sadness of the world when he'd been younger showed no sign of feeling anything now, and Sage realized that standing before her was a stranger she didn't know at all.

  The dog moved in her arms. She said in the level tone of a professional. We need to move someplace where I can have a look at this animal."

  Roak stood stone still, and she knew if she wanted his help, she'd have to ask.

  Biting her lip, she said, "Drum, will you see us safely across the street?"

  He nodded, silently accepting her tacit apology. He reached for her bag and would have lifted both of Bonnie's as well, but the nurse grabbed the carrying cage. "I'll handle Bullet.”

  Roak raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

  They dodged their way across the street and into the alley beside the hotel.

  "You can see to the dog in the washroom out back," Drum said over his shoulder. "I'll drop your bags at the front desk and tell them you'll be by later to pick them up along with the key.” He reached for the cat, but Bonnie was not willing to hand her pet over to a stranger, even if she had heard stories about his bravery.

  Roak seemed to understand, for he nodded. "Then I'll be on my way, Dr. Lander. Miss Pierce.”

  Sage wanted to yell at him a little longer, but the whimpering dog in her arms demanded her attention. After taking a few steps toward the back entrance, Sage looked over her shoulder belatedly to thank him, but Drummond was already gone. Apparently he wanted no more of her than she wanted of him.

  CHAPTER 2

  DRUMMOND ROAK DROPPED THE LUGGAGE AT THE desk and stormed out. Over the years he'd thought of a hundred things he'd say to Sage McMurray if he ever saw her again. He'd even thought of a few things he wouldn't mind doing.

  That had all changed. Nothing today had gone like he'd planned. Much as he wanted to blame her, he knew the fault lay with him. He'd been so frightened when he saw her about to be hurt that he boiled over in anger, and she'd answered in kind.

  Part of him wanted to grab her and say simply that it was about time she came back. He'd waited for her. Dear God, how he'd waited for her.

  Time may have passed, but she was never far from his thoughts. He could have filled an entire book with the dreaming he'd had of her. Apparently, he was never even a footnote in her life.

  Sage would be far too busy with the mutt to worry about her own comfort, so he'd ordered her a bath and tea sent to her room once she arrived. Evidently she was still picking up strays. Drum figured he was probably only one of hundreds.

  Crossing the street again, he retrieved his horse and headed for the first bathhouse he could find. He hadn't expected to see her five minutes after he hit town. He'd thought he would at least have time to clean up and shave.

  He swore under his breath. It had been years, and she still looked at him as if he were the scrawny, wild kid they'd tied in their barn when they caught him on their land. He'd proven his worth to her family a dozen times over the years, but that hadn't changed a thing in her eyes.

  Drum tossed four bits on the table at the bathhouse door. "Hot water, lots of it, and whiskey.”

  The old man behind the table nodded and pointed to the third door. Half door really. For a foot at both the top and bottom had been sawed off. The bottom was left open so the bathwater could run out and the top so that the owner could know what was going on in his establishment. The old guy looked like he allowed pretty much everything, but he'd want a price for anything more than a bath.

  Drum slammed the flimsy door closed and dropped his saddlebags on the bench. He pulled out his fine tailored black shirt and pants and the leather vest he'd planned to be wearing when he saw Sage. He had a new hat with a silver band hanging on a peg at the Ranger station a few blocks away. She wouldn't have thought him a kid if she'd seen him dressed up.

  He stripped off his filthy trail clothes and slid into a tin tub of lukewarm water. Part of him knew it didn't matter what he wore; she'd never think of him as her equal.

  Before he could relax, the old man kicked the door back and added two steaming buckets of water to the tub, filling it completely. "You paid for soap and a towel. We'll settle up on the whiskey when you leave." He marked the level of the bottle before setting it next to the tub.

  Drum leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the heat settle around him. He never should have come to Galveston. He should have stayed half a state away from Sage. He'd asked for trouble and, as usual, he'd found it. No matter what he did, she'd never see him as anything but worthless. He had more important things to do than come here to be insulted.

  A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. No one else in Texas would have the nerve to insult him but Sage.

  "You want me to wash your back?" A woman's voice jarred him from his thoughts. A round head covered in orange curls popped just above the door.

  Normally, he would have said no, but today, he nodded once.

  A stout woman in her thirties squeezed along the side of the tub. She had soap in one hand and a scrub brush in the other. She smiled and began her work. Within seconds, the front of her blouse was soaking wet, showing her wares, and her washing had become stroking.

  When her hand dipped beneath the water, Drum pushed her away gently. "Thanks for the scrub, but I can do the rest."

  She winked. "Are you sure? I don't mind. With a man built like you, it would be a pleasure."

  He reached across to the coins lying next to his guns and tossed her one. "Thanks for the offer, but no thanks”

  She looked disappointed.

  Drum dropped his head into the water. When he raised it again, she was gone.

  He grinned, wondering how much of her desire was spurred by the need of money. Leaning back in the water, he took a long drink of whiskey and tried to imagine Sage offering to wash his back.

  Not likely.

  He knew he was wild. How could he not be? He would have had better parenting if he'd been raised by wolves. His mother never even attempted to tell him which one of the bandits who lived in the hole of a town where he was born had been his father. She'd lifted her skirt so often for the price of a drink that most of the time she was so drunk she didn't remember having a child and never thought of caring for one. Other boys had mates; his first memories were of fighting the stray dogs in the camp for food.

  Drum let the past he usually kept tucked away flow through his mind: the time he'd been five and had been beaten because he couldn't hold the target still so the drunks in the camp could fire, winter months when he'd hidden in the wood by the fire for warmth, cleaning up his mother when she threw up on herself.

  He hadn't even cried when she'd died. He hadn't cared. He'd thought women were useless creatures. Or at least he had until he'd stumbled onto the McMurray Ranch.

  Teagen McMurray had caught him trespassing and tied him up for the sheriff. But while he'd waited in the barn, he'd seen a way of life unlike anything he'd ever known. The McMurray men were strong and hard, but they protected and cherished their women, and the women, right down to the housekeeper, cared for others, e
ven him.

  Drum had been wiry thin and not fully grown, but they'd fed him and put blankets over him to keep him warm. Sage had doctored his wounds as if it mattered to her whether he lived or died. To this day, he could still remember the feel of her gentle fingers on his skin.

  He took another drink, ignoring the burn of the liquor. He'd never seen anyone as beautiful as Sage McMurray. At fifteen he'd fallen hard for her in those few days, and no matter what she did or how much she despised him, nothing changed his mind. He'd asked her to wait for him to grow up so he could be her man, and she'd laughed at him.

  He poured another drink, realizing she was probably still laughing at him.

  Now she was back in Texas about the time he'd forgotten how many times she'd pushed even his friendship away. She'd married someone else, just like he'd feared she would. She'd never given a moment's thought to waiting for him.

  Drum stared at the ceiling. Hell, she'd probably come back to Texas just to remind him how there would never be anything between them.

  "Roak!" Like a cannon shot, a booming voice filled the outer room. "You in there?" The door flew open so hard it hit the wall, rattling the entire building.

  "What did I get," Roak complained, "a swinging door on this bath?"

  Captain Turner Harmon walked in as if he'd been invited. He was tall, with a barrel chest and a good salting of silver hair. His sun-wrinkled face made him seem ageless and indestructible.

  The big man didn't bother to close the door. "I thought I'd find you here. I saw that devil of a black horse you ride. There's not another one like him in the state. I figure if Satan's tied up in front of this dump, you can't be far.”

  Drum glared at the head of the Texas Rangers. "I'm not here. Every time I see you, I wrestle with Death and his brothers. Get out, Harmon. I'm taking a bath."

  Apparently Captain Harmon was deaf, for he showed no sign of being offended. "You look clean enough. Get dressed, Roak. I need you and that lightning gun of yours”.

  Roak lifted the whiskey bottle as casually as if they were simply having a drink. "And I've got plans in town tonight”

  "Meet me out front. You've got five minutes.” the big man ordered. "Your plans can wait. We've got a real problem, son."

  The half-empty whiskey bottle hit the door just as the captain stepped out.

  Turner's laughter echoed through the bathhouse. "I'll take that as a 'Yes, sir.' "

  "Take it any way you like," Roak shouted back.

  "I'll pay for the bottle while you dress.” Turner's words lowered to be deadly serious. "Lives depend on you tonight, Drummond. You've no time to waste."

  Drum stepped out of the tub and grabbed a towel. He wanted to go back to Sage all cleaned up, but she'd probably only insult him again. Maybe, after talking to her for ten minutes, it was already time to put some space between them. At this rate, they'd spend most of their lives avoiding one another.

  He pulled clean trail clothes from his saddlebags and shoved his fine duds back inside. When it came right down to it, risking his life fighting beside the Rangers was probably safer than trying to get Sage to go to dinner with him. He might as well go fight and worry about her destroying him later. Maybe, if he got lucky, he'd manage to get himself killed before he caught up with her again.

  Strapping on his holster, he shoved his dripping hair back and could think of nothing but her. He'd find Sage later, and he'd say a few of the things he'd thought about saying to her if he had to hold her at gunpoint to do it. Turner wouldn't have come after him if it wasn't something important. The captain was right: Sage could wait a few more days.

  As he walked out of the bathhouse, he thought of her in black. Maybe he should give her time to mourn before he did what he'd thought of doing since the first time he'd seen her. He had told her that night in the barn that he would make her his woman someday, and the years hadn't changed his mind.

  Now the biggest problem he faced seemed to be changing hers.

  CHAPTER 3

  THE PATTERSON GRAND HOTEL STOOD LIKE A CASTLE between smaller, duller hotels and storefronts. Sage couldn't believe she was smuggling a stray dog up to the third floor of one of Galveston's best, but there was no helping what had to be done.

  The poor animal was too weak to take care of himself, and someone would only shoot him if they saw him hobbling down the street. She'd never doctored anything but humans and horses, but she guessed the dog had a few broken ribs. He'd whimpered until she'd bandaged him. His filthy black coat looked even dirtier with the white cotton wrapped around his thin body.

  When she'd left him with Bonnie and circled around to the front desk to pick up her key, she'd been surprised that Drum had ordered a bath and tea to be sent up as soon as she arrived.

  The clerk apologized that there would be a delay, saying the girls would be free soon and could take care of it.

  Sage slipped back to the back stairs where Bonnie waited with the dog wrapped inside a sheet. "We have to hurry.”

  "Can we get arrested for this?" Bonnie whispered as she lifted her side of the makeshift litter in one hand and her cat cage in the other. Awkwardly, she started up the stairs. "Because I've heard what they do to women in jail, and I'm guessing it would be double bad in Texas.”

  "No," Sage answered, then whispered, "At least I don't think so. Besides, I've got a brother in Austin who is the best lawyer in the state. Travis would get us off"

  Bonnie paused to catch her breath. "Meaning no disrespect, Doc. I've heard you talk about your brothers for years, and I know they're fine men, but they can't walk on water. My guess is, if you keep looking for trouble, you'll finally find a problem they can't get you out of."

  Sage laughed. "Wait'll you meet them. Not one man in the state stands as their equal.”

  Bonnie frowned. "That'll make it mighty hard for you to find another husband.”

  "I'm not looking.” Sage answered. "Not now. Not ever again."

  They made it to their room and bumped their way inside. Bonnie lowered her end of the sheet first. "I don't see what were going to do with this dog up here. Now we'll have to smuggle up food, and I'm not cleaning up after a mutt.” She lifted the cat carrier. "I'm keeping Bullet in here. I don't even want to think about what harm he'd do to that dog if he got out."

  "It's just for tonight. Tomorrow morning, I'll find someone to take care of him. Maybe the livery will let him stay there for a few days until he's better.”

  Bonnie didn't look convinced. "I'll go ask for a cup of milk and a few pieces of bread. If he eats that, he'll probably live. I don't think doctoring a dog is much different than treating a man. If he eats, he's mending.” She set the cage down just inside the first bedroom.

  Sage nodded and knelt to check the animal while Bonnie left on her mission. The bony mutt licked her hand and pushed his head against her palm. She wondered if he had once belonged to someone who'd taken care of him and for some reason he now found himself alone. Folks heading west and north usually took their dogs, but maybe his owners had given up homesteading and boarded a boat back East. If so, they might have no use for a dog.

  In the stillness of the newly painted room she relaxed for the first time since she'd left Boston.

  A breeze ruffled the curtains, offering slices of sunlight blinking across her. The air smelled different in Texas, she thought. She didn't know how or why she believed it, but she could feel a freshness, a wildness, a wonder of the land all around her. Or maybe she was just different here. She belonged here. No one looked at her strangely as soon as she spoke. No one frowned at her dreams.

  Texas was as wild as she knew her heart to be, but right now that heart was bound in black. She wished she could go back to when she was eighteen and believed in love, but she'd realized months ago that the only passion she'd ever know would be for her work. She wouldn't be a man's possession, like most wives were, and no man she'd ever met, besides Barret, had treated her as an equal.

  If she wanted to be independent, she'd live
her life alone. She was a fine doctor, and that would have to be enough.

  The tiny gold band on her left hand flickered in the light. Barret had been her teacher in both years of medical school. He'd been one of the few who hadn't laughed at her desire to practice medicine. After the bad luck she'd had with men in her teens, she'd decided to accept his offer of marriage, even though he was fifteen years older than she. Barret was a brilliant man, the best doctor she'd ever seen, but his body had never been strong. He'd told her once that no one expected him to live beyond five or six. When he did, they pampered and protected him. The weak heart inside a frail body housed a determined mind. She'd admired him from the day they'd met.

  A single tear slid down her face. She'd known from the beginning that there would be nothing romantic between them. He'd kissed her hands the night they'd married and promised not his love but that he'd make her a great doctor. It seemed he knew his time was running out, and he wanted to pass on as much knowledge as he could.

  "Knowledge in medicine is expanding like an exploding star," he'd told her. "And you, Sage, will be part of that new age” He hadn't added that he planned to be at her side. They both knew he would not.

  Sage shoved the tear aside, wishing she'd only wanted what he offered, but she'd wanted more. A week after they married, she found him asleep in a bed in the hospital storage room. She crawled in beside him and wrapped her arms around him. All she'd wanted to do was sleep next to her husband. That surely hadn't been too much to ask.

  But Barret had gently pushed her hands away and moved off the bed. "Sleep now” he'd whispered. "I need to make rounds." She heard the familiar coughs rack his body as he moved away.

  She thought he would come back when he finished, but he hadn't. To her knowledge he never slept in the storage room bed again. He never slept with her. He was the kindest man she'd ever known, but he couldn't bring himself to love her. The legacy of his talent was all he had to give her.

  When he finally gave up the role of doctor and became a patient, she'd asked him why he'd married her, and he had whispered simply that he was so sorry, but he didn't want to die alone. She understood then and stayed beside his bed until the end. He'd made her a doctor, and she'd made sure he wasn't by himself when death knocked, but she'd never truly been his wife.