The Lone Texan

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.

A widow without being a wife is doubly lost.

The sun slipped behind a cloud as though the day outside her window was reflecting her mood. Sage straightened her spine. Melancholy was not a cloak that fit her shoulders. She would not wear it well or long.

A knock rattled the thin door, making Sage jump. Bonnie wouldn't have knocked on the door to their suite, and anyone else would not be happy to find a dog in the best room of the hotel.

Sage wrapped the mutt in the sheet and carefully carried him into the second of the two bedrooms, not wanting the two animals in sight of one another. All she'd seen the black cat do was sleep, but it would be her luck that Bullet would decide to wake, just to pester the dog while he was feeling bad.

The dog didn't move when she laid him in the sun by the window. "Stay," she whispered as another knock sounded. "Please, stay."

The animal put his head on his paw and closed his eyes as if content to do as she asked.

Rushing through the sitting room, she pulled the door wide, already planning how fast she would get rid of whoever it was.

The blood froze in her veins as she stared at the man before her. "Barret?" She tried to breathe as panic rose. In the dimly lit hallway, her husband stood before her.

"No, miss. No” The man waved his hand as if he could take her fear away. "I'm not your Barret come back from the dead. I'm not him”

Sage tried to breathe. Of course he wasn't Barret. She'd buried him back in Boston, and she didn't believe in ghosts. She'd washed his cold body and dressed him in a fine wool suit. She'd walked beside his casket all the way to the cemetery so he wouldn't be alone. Then she'd placed him in the ground beside his mother and father and stood watching as the undertaker covered the coffin with six feet of dirt.

"I'm Shelley, miss. Shelley Darnell Lander." the man in shadow announced. "Barret was my brother."

Sage took his offered hand, noticing the softness of his skin. Barret's hands had been rough and often cracked from constant washing, not smooth. She examined the man standing before her. He wore a tan suit, wrinkled and stained at the cuffs. Barret changed into clean clothes sometimes three or four times a day. He didn't believe in walking into a new patient's room with the blood of another on him.

"Mr. Shelley Lander," she managed as she tried to think of the few times Barret had mentioned his brother. Worthless, he'd called Shelley. Worthless as warts on a leopard. Apparently all the Lander family strived to mold meaningful lives, except Barret's older brother, who embarrassed them all by wasting his life in saloons.

The replica of her dead husband strolled past her and into the seating room as if he'd been invited. "I tried to catch you before you left the ship. I wanted to explain why I'd missed the funeral and offer my protection on your journey home.”

Sage left the door wide open and followed him to the settee. "I don't need protection," she said, thinking of the derringer tucked in the folds of her traveling skirt. Since she'd been involved in a stage robbery years ago, Sage made sure all her petticoats and skirts had a pocket big enough to conceal a weapon. "I thank you for your kindness.” She tried to think of something to say. "And I'm very sorry for the loss of your brother."

As she studied him in the light, she was amazed at how different the two men were. He was a muddy water reflection of her husband. Barret's eyes had sparkled with intelligence; Shelley's were dishwater blue. Barret's movements were driven with purpose. Shelley swayed as he walked, as if he couldn't quite make up his mind about which direction to take.

He waved his hand, offering her a seat on her couch before taking his place as if he were the one entertaining. "Lovely suite, my dear." He looked slightly embarrassed. "I hope you don't mind me calling you dear. I feel as if I already know you for, after all, you were married to my brother."

Sage had never been one to tolerate fools, but she hesitated, telling herself that though she may have lost her teacher and husband, the poor man before her had lost his brother. In the years she'd known Barret, to her knowledge, Shelley had never visited, but the two must have been close as children.

"I didn't know of his death in time to come to the funeral. He wrote me that he was ill, but I'd had a dozen similar letters over the years?" Shelley looked like he might cry. "This time I ignored the letter. I could have done little even if I'd rushed to his side, but I'll never forgive myself for not being there for you, you poor, poor child.”

"I managed?" Sage answered. She had ignored the "my dear' but the "poor child" was laying it on a little too thick. "How did you find me?"

He seemed surprised at the direct question. If he'd expected to find a weeping widow, he'd come to the wrong place.

"I have a friend in Boston who posts me now and then. I've been in Galveston for almost a year now, so when I heard about my brother's death and that his widow would be returning to Texas, I began to check the logs of each passenger list coming. My place of business is very near where the ships dock. I knew there would be a good chance you'd be passing through this harbor, and I wanted to be here to offer you my shoulder. My brother might have tried to forget I existed, but I make a point to do my duty.”

Sage wasn't sure she wanted any part of the man before her. Something in his manner told her he wasn't quite the respectable businessman in town, and he didn't look strong enough to be able to work for a living. He fit more into the down-on-his-luck-gambler category or worse, one of the men who posed as investors and sold free land to immigrants.

She decided to play along. If he was mourning Barret, she owed him a bit of comfort. "Would you like some tea, Mr. Lander? I asked for some to be sent up when I arrived."

He smiled. "Oh. call me Shelley, dear. We are family, you know.”

She could almost see him settling in like a hen on a full nest.

He leaned back, relaxing. "I'd love some tea.”

Bonnie banged her way through the door with a jug of milk and a half loaf of bread about the time a maid arrived with the tea tray. The tall nurse took a look around the room as if she thought she might be in the wrong place. When her gaze rested on Sage, the doctor shook her head slightly.

Shelley didn't fool the nurse for longer than a blink. "You look like Dr. Lander.” she said. "So I'm guessing you're a relative.”

Sage shifted her gaze back and forth from the milk to the bedroom door, hoping Bonnie would take the hint.

Shelley stood and bowed. "I'm Barret's brother, and you are right. I've come to pay my respects to his widow. And you, madam, must be my poor brother's widow's traveling companion."

"No, sir. I'm her nurse.”

Shelley dropped back on the couch with a look of horror. He grabbed Sage's hand. "Oh, you poor, poor child; you're ill.” Sage frowned. There it was again, the poor child label. "No." She pulled her hand away. "I'm a doctor, like your brother, and Miss Pierce is my nurse. She works for me.”

Shelley looked like he might argue but instead wisely kept his mouth closed for once.

Bonnie sidestepped toward the bedroom as the maid set up the tea. "Well," she said a bit too loudly, "you two enjoy your tea and visit. I'll just take my snack"-she lifted the jug and bread- "into the bedroom.”

Shelley watched her go, huffed twice, and returned to his seat. "Odd creature.” he said as he began pouring tea with hands that didn't look like they'd been washed in a week.

The place is thick with them, Sage thought.

As she watched the man eat all the finger sandwiches, she fought the urge to ask him how he made a living. As far as she knew, Barret's people were educated but relatively poor. As a doctor, her husband had worked more days for free than for payment. He would have had little money to send to a worthless brother. The gentleman bred in Shelley was tarnished as well as his manners.

Sage leaned back on a pillow and waited to see if he'd prove himself a fool.

Shelley liked to talk, even if he didn't have much to say. He rattled on about the history of Galveston as if he were a native Texan. Finally, with all the tea gone, he decided it was time for him to leave.

"I know that you'll be needing someone to advise you, and I want to offer my services. You're very young, and women have no mind for business, so if you'll allow me, I'll be your guide through the stormy seas to come.”

"Thank you” Sage said, not bothering to tell him that she'd been handling her own affairs since she turned eighteen and began to share equally in the profits of the ranch.

Shelley walked to the door, then turned back to her with a sad expression on his face as though he dreaded having to tell her something. "One thing, my dear sister. I know you think you have lots of money from my brother's estate. I'm sure he left you well provided for, but I must begin my duty by asking if you think it wise to book such expensive accommodations. I could find you more reasonable lodging for a third the price."

Sage considered saying that she'd paid for his brother's funeral, but she couldn't be so unkind. "Thank you, Mr. Lander. I'll give it some thought."

She closed the door before he could think of more advice and leaned against it for good measure.

Bonnie stepped from the bedroom, making no pretense that she hadn't been listening. "Odd duck, don't you think?"

Sage laughed. "I do. Maybe we can manage to stay out of his way for the next few days. Once we get supplies and I take care of some banking, we'll be on our way to Whispering Mountain, and Mr. Shelley Lander will have no idea where we've gone. It's a big state. He'll have to find his tea somewhere else."

"Sad, really.” Bonnie whispered. "Him living and the good Dr. Lander dying. Maybe it's true what they say that the good die young.”

The memory of her first love, a tall, handsome Texas Ranger who'd been killed, came flooding back in painful waves. "Yes. Very sad."