Sage: A Sweet Western Historical Romance (Walker Creek Brides Book 5)

by Miriam Minger

  She stood on tiptoe to give him a peck on the cheek and then she was gone, Andreas staring after her with some surprise. Then again, his twin sister had always known him almost as well as he knew himself, and Lord knows, his care and concern for Sage was written as plain as day on his face.

  Quietly, so as not to wake her, Andreas moved the chair closer to the bed and sat down again, daring to reach for her hand.

  It was one thing for Anita to touch her, but him, another thing altogether. He and Sage had never even been introduced. Never spoken a single word to each other. Yet he could no longer withstand his intense yearning to clasp her hand.

  He slowly drew in his breath at the warmth of her fingers resting so lightly in his, delicate, lovely fingers that he longed to bring to his lips, but that would be going way too far. A bolt of lightning couldn’t have struck him as suddenly as he’d fallen for her from the first moment he looked into her eyes.

  Sage Larsen. No prostitute at all, he’d stake his life on it, his gut instinct confirmed by what she’d revealed in her delirium. His desire to protect her and keep her safe overwhelming him, he’d never known such intensity of feeling. He was lost. Besotted. Wholly hers, if she’d have him.

  Just as he’d prayed all day, he implored again that she open her eyes so he could gaze into those clear brown depths.

  Implored again that she might speak to him at last so he could hear the sound of her voice when she wasn’t delirious or distressed.

  Something told him that the timbre would be sweet and gentle, which made him yearn all the more that she wake, please wake…

  “Andreas, you can sleep in that cot over there if you’re going to stay the night,” came Molly’s soft murmur behind him. Andreas tore his gaze from Sage to nod at her in gratitude.

  “I’d like to stay…if that’s all right with you and Doc Davis.”

  “Of course, it’s all right. I felt terrible for asking Samuel and Mary Levinson to leave earlier, but she was so distressed by what happened to Miss Larsen. I believe they look upon her as a daughter, which warmed me to see. It was a right and proper thing you did to ask Mr. Levinson if you might continue to sit with her, though at first he did seem reluctant.”

  Reluctant? The stocky gentleman’s face has reddened with anger when he had entered the infirmary and seen Andreas. Only his wife’s grip on his arm had appeared to keep his temper in check as Andreas apologized and took full responsibility for the injury Sage had suffered.

  “An accident, Mr. Hagen,” Mrs. Levinson had corrected him gently with tears welling in her eyes. “You and your fine horse are not to blame. Samuel and I give you our permission to remain by her side—God keep her, we don’t want her to be alone.”

  The older couple hadn’t stayed for more than a half hour, Mrs. Levinson unable to stop her silent weeping until at last, her husband had heeded Molly’s advice and taken her home. That had left only Andreas and Anita, and now, he sat by himself beside Sage’s bed.

  Still holding her hand, Molly taking no obvious note of it as she drew the blanket more snugly around Sage.

  “I’ll bring you some stew, Andreas. You must eat…and try to get some rest.”

  He nodded, but said nothing.

  “She’s stronger than she appears for so slight a young woman. Her pulse is good, her color returned to normal. The cut above her temple will heal and that dark bruise fade. She might have headaches for a week or two, but Charles and I are confident she’ll make a complete recovery.”

  Andreas nodded again, squeezing Sage’s hand ever so lightly to reassure her if by some chance she’d heard Molly’s words.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll check on her through the night. I’ll go get you that stew.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Davis,” he murmured, warmed by her reassuring touch on his shoulder.

  “Call me Molly, Andreas. We’re family after all. Your sister Kari has brought more joy to Seth than we could have ever hoped for him—and soon, we’ll have a grandchild. God is good.”

  “God is good,” he echoed quietly, another prayer for Sage to open her eyes sent heavenward as Molly left him.

  The Davises’ house adjoined the infirmary, so they wouldn’t be far away if any help was needed. Oh, he hoped not. If she slept through until morning, at the very least he wanted the night to pass peacefully.

  “I’m here, Sage,” he said under his breath, caressing her fingers ever so gently with his thumb. “Everything’s going to be all right, I promise. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again. Never.”

  Sage winced at the light pouring through the windows, the ache in her head making it hard for her to fully open her eyes.

  Where was she? She didn’t recognize her surroundings at all, for surely it wasn’t the Frederick Hotel, the last place she remembered. She’d heard a woman scream and then voices raised in alarm all around her, and Joshua Logan’s face hovering above hers and blood wetting her fingers—

  “Oh, no, blood,” she whispered, glancing down at her bodice to see she wasn’t wearing her brown dress any longer, but a soft white nightgown. Growing more accustomed to the light, she slowly looked to her right at a neat row of beds—realization dawned like a jolt that made her suck in her breath.

  She must have been taken to the infirmary, yes, but what of Andreas, dear God, what of Andreas? The place was so quiet that it must be early, perhaps just an hour or so past sunrise, but if he wasn’t here at the infirmary and all the beds empty except for hers, oh, please tell her that he wasn’t—

  “Good morning.”

  Sage gasped and looked to her left. Someone was sitting up on the cot nearest the wall to stare at her almost in wonderment.

  “Oh, Andreas, you’re not dead!”

  Her outburst shattering the stillness, she stared in wonderment, too, as Andreas rose from the cot to stand so tall and hale and hearty that she felt tears burn her eyes.

  Gratitude, relief, and amazement swept her—an overwhelming array of emotions as he came around to her bedside, truly more handsome than she remembered in his plain workingman’s shirt, blue denims, and boots.

  “Happily, not dead at all,” he said as he drew up a chair and sat down next to her, staring at her face as if drinking in the very sight of her. He seemed at a loss to say anything more for a moment, his throat working as he swallowed and moisture shining in his eyes.

  Eyes so blue against the white-blond of his hair just sweeping his collar, that she swallowed, too, struck dumb herself at the very sight of him.

  She could not say how long they simply stared at each other, until she realized with a start that she’d cried out his name as if she knew him, though they had never been introduced. Might he know her name, too?

  “I-I’m Sage,” she said softly, a smile touching his lips as if the sound of her voice had somehow moved him. “Sage Larsen.”

  “Andreas Hagen,” he murmured back, his glance falling to her hand resting so close to him as if he wanted to clasp it, though he refrained and once more met her gaze. “I prayed all night for this moment.”

  “All night?”

  He nodded, and once again he swallowed hard before speaking. “Until I finally fell asleep a few hours ago. You took a grievous blow from my horse—”

  “I’m so sorry, I should have never run into the road like I did! I thought you might be dead from how hard you hit the ground.”

  “So you stole my horse and rode off to find help. I know, I heard all about it.”

  “Stole?” Sage gaped at him, a sudden twinge of pain making her lift her hand to her temple to find a thick bandage wrapped around her head. “No, no, I would never—”

  “I was teasing you, Sage, forgive me. Does it hurt a lot?”

  Relieved that he had only been joking, she gave a small nod, closing her eyes until the worst of the throbbing had passed. He wasn’t seated when she opened them, but had knelt down next to the bed, his eyes filled with stark concern.

  “I apologize, truly. I never meant to make l
ight of what you did for me, so courageously riding to find help when you were injured yourself and bleeding. You caused quite the stir at the hotel.”

  “I’m sure I did,” Sage said quietly. “I’d never been inside before, but I knew I’d find people there who would rush to your aid. Sunday dinners after church. I used to do that with my family, too.”

  A weighty silence fell between them, so different than the lightheartedness that had gone before. Andreas looked stricken as if he’d touched upon something he hadn’t intended to, while Sage was painfully conscious again of what she’d forgotten for a few precious moments.

  “You shouldn’t be here with me. Shouldn’t have stayed the night. I fear your kindness will bring you nothing but a terrible blight upon your reputation—”

  “I don’t give a blast about my reputation and yours isn’t as tarnished as you may believe!”

  Sage gaped at him, hardly comprehending what he’d just said but with no chance to hear more as Dr. Charles Davis suddenly came through the infirmary door.

  At once, Andreas rose from kneeling to stand beside the bed, which made her blush deeply, more for him than for her. No, no, no, he shouldn’t be here at all!

  She watched with discomfort as Dr. Davis drew closer, and lowered her eyes as if she could pretend she wasn’t even there. She’d kept to herself for so long at the mercantile, working in the shadows and venturing outside so rarely except for her walks to the creek on Sundays, that the unease she felt was nearly overwhelming.

  She knew the doctor’s name; she knew practically everyone’s name in town from their visits to buy goods from the Levinsons, but she hadn’t spoken to a single one of them.

  And always—always!—in the back of her mind was Beatrice Dubois’s threat to kill her if she ever mentioned the truth of what had happened that night at the brothel, which made her shrink even further into the bed.

  “Andreas, will you give Miss Larsen a few moments so I might examine her?”

  “Of course, Doc.”

  He was gone before Sage could even glance up at him, striding to the door that must lead outside the infirmary while Dr. Davis leaned over her.

  “Let’s take a look at that wound, shall we?”

  As he gently unwrapped the bandage, Sage felt she might surely start weeping that her brief exchange with Andreas had come and gone.

  She had feared him dead and yet he was alive and well, thank God, and had stayed with her all night and had prayed for her, too! Truly, he must be a man unlike any other to not care what the townsfolk might think of the attention he’d paid her. He had made her feel like she had before she’d ever come to Walker Creek—yes, like herself again!—and not the tainted outcast she had become.

  “Oh, my, you’re crying. Have I hurt you?”

  Sage shook her head as she wiped away the tears from her face with trembling fingers. “Thank you for looking after me, sir—”

  “Doc Davis is fine, and what most everyone calls me. It will take some time for your wound to heal, but then you’ll be as good as new. And just so you know, there are more than Andreas who care what happens to you. I, for one, and my wife, Molly, and Anita, Andreas’s twin sister, who spent most of yesterday sitting here with him by your side, and the Levinsons, of course—yes, and soon I’m sure there will be others.”

  Dr. Davis didn’t say anything more, but focused upon re-bandaging her wound while Sage stared at him, his kind words as confusing to her as Andreas’s earlier outburst.

  “Molly’s heating up some water so you can bathe, and she’ll help you sponge away that dried blood in your hair. Take care with that bandage, though.”

  “I will, sir—Doc Davis.”

  The older man with his graying side whiskers and moustache, who’d looked so serious while he examined her, gave her a slight smile that appeared almost sad as he walked away.

  Her gaze flew past him to the door and she wondered if Andreas might return, though she knew he shouldn’t.

  She must look a sight! Dried blood in her hair? Yet he had stared at her with such emotion in his eyes, reminding her suddenly of when he’d nearly bumped into her on the street. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself—how could she?—that she had felt something that day, too, unlike anything she’d known before.

  Her heart beating faster, her face flushed with warmth, a strange breathlessness seizing her.

  It had taken a long time that night before she’d been able to fall asleep, just thinking about him and the way he’d looked at her—

  “Stand aside, Andreas Hagen, we know that hussy is in there! We’ve dozens of signatures on this petition, which is more than enough to send her packing this very morning. We don’t want her kind around here—and I’m shocked that you’re standing in our way! Truly shocked, I tell you! Winnifred, take my arm. The rest of you ladies, follow me!”

  Chapter Four

  “Mrs. Winchell, don’t take another step!” Andreas bodily blocked the entrance while a collective gasp went up from the twenty or so women in their winter bonnets and capes gathered around him in a semicircle.

  He hadn’t believed his eyes when they had disembarked from a line of carriages and come marching up to the infirmary with Bibles clasped to their breasts and fiery indignation in their eyes. Yet it was happening, no doubt about it, Gladys Winchell drawing herself up as her ample bosom heaved with outrage.

  “Mr. Hagen, really! Are you protecting this-this harlot from her just rebuke? Isn’t it bad enough that she’s lived among us for eight months? I still can’t believe Mayor Logan allowed such a thing—and we’re not going to stand for it a moment longer! Now stand aside!”

  As the women once again moved en masse toward him, Andreas braced his arms against the doorframe and planted his feet.

  He knew they wouldn’t be able to dislodge him even if they tried. He was that tall and that strong. Another thing in his favor—it wasn’t raining in spite of a second day of dark clouds scudding across the sky, and none of the women carried umbrellas with which to accost him. From the determined look on their faces, he didn’t doubt that they would have poked him black and blue.

  He couldn’t believe it, but it appeared the women were going to attempt to push against him as if with one body when he felt the door suddenly open behind him.

  “Ladies, ladies, have you no Christian charity?”

  Dr. Davis’s raised voice grim with reproach, he indicated for Andreas to step aside so he could move past him and fully face the women.

  “My patient suffered a blow to her head that might have killed her, and now you’re threatening to cast her out into the elements where she might catch her death? Shame on all of you!”

  Some of the women clearly appeared mortified by Dr. Davis’s reprimand, including Winnifred, who cast an embarrassed glance at Andreas. Mrs. Winchell nonetheless looked undeterred.

  “All she has to do is ply her trade and she’ll find succor along the way, you can be sure of it! We have a legal petition, Dr. Davis—”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Winchell, I’ll take that document for now,” interjected Sheriff Luke Braun, who had ridden up while everyone was focused upon Dr. Davis, and had dismounted to join the fray. The women stepped aside for him in surprise. Well, all of them except for Gladys, who stood her ground with her double chin raised and the petition clutched to her breast.

  “I will not—”

  “You will, madam, by orders of Mayor Logan.” The lean, dark-haired young man glanced at Andreas, nodding tersely. He and Luke weren’t friends; Andreas considered him a hothead ever since he’d wrongfully thrown Daniel Grant into jail in December, but he was glad to see him. “Andreas, the mayor told me to inform you that he and two of my deputies will be heading to Austin on the ten o’clock train, just as you discussed.”

  “Austin?” blurted Mrs. Winchell, her plump cheeks two bright spots of color as the sheriff divested her of the petition. “Mayor Logan and two deputies? Sheriff Braun, I demand to know what you’re talking about—�
��

  “An urgent investigation into the night the brothel was shut down,” Andreas cut in, having had enough of Gladys and her blasted petition. Sheriff Braun shot him another glance, but he didn’t break in so Andreas kept going. “You ladies might not appreciate hearing Beatrice Dubois’s name, but there it is. I won’t go into any details, but it’s our belief that Miss Sage Larsen is the victim of a plot by Beatrice to make money off her innocence. Thank God she was spared any assault other than being wrongfully branded as a prostitute since she first came to Walker Creek.”

  “I don’t believe it!” blurted Mrs. Winchell, whirling on her heel to face the other women. “And don’t any of you believe this nonsense, either. If she was innocent, she should have spoken up for herself long ago—”

  “Would you speak up to clear your name if your life was threatened?” Andreas cut her off, growing angrier by the moment. “We believe that’s exactly what happened to Sage, and Mayor Logan is determined to get to the bottom of what occurred that night.”

  “Sage, is it now?” Gladys said with such venom in her voice that Andreas felt pity for poor Winnifred, who appeared to shrink at her mother’s tone. “I see what’s happening here, Andreas Hagen, and it’s clear that shameless hussy has bewitched you! You haven’t heard the last of this, no, not by any stretch of your misplaced imagination. That young woman is no innocent and you’re no gentleman! To think I believed you the most eligible bachelor in town and suitable to wed my daughter! Winnie, ladies, let’s leave these men to their precious harlot.”

  As the women filed dutifully after Mrs. Winchell, who stormed toward her carriage in self-righteous indignation, Andreas sighed and met Sheriff Braun’s grim gaze.

  “Will you post a deputy here to protect Doc Davis’s patient while she recovers?”

  “Mayor Logan already ordered it. Do you think it’s possible that could have gone any worse?”