They’d fought Comanche, Arapahoe, Cheyenne, and Kiowa. Alex had come to recognize their arrows and clothing and temperament. And fear them all. That part didn’t make him a coward. Only a fool didn’t fear a Comanche warrior.
But there were plenty of ways to show a yellow belly. And Alex had found them all. Alex wasn’t fit to be near decent folks. He’d lived the last years denying his God-given gift for healing and remaining with those who were as indecent as he could find.
But Beth wouldn’t let him go back where he belonged. She’d hate him if she knew all he’d done. Instead she’d married him.
He should never have allowed it. She’d be stained with his filth and failure. He’d kill again with his tenuous hold on reason. At least as a derelict who ran with drinkers and gamblers, though he didn’t drink or gamble himself, he hadn’t tainted anyone else.
God, forgive me. Protect Beth. Maybe I’ll die and set her free.
But Alex had discovered, despite his best efforts, that he didn’t die easily.
His nerves calmed. Beth’s soothing voice rained her gentle ministrations down on Bart and healed Alex, too. He was able to turn to the wounded man and help. He could survive as long as she was within his grasp.
And from the assurance that he should shove her away to protect her came a soul-deep desire to hold her close forever. He’d married his very own personal savior. He knew that belonged to Jesus Christ, and that was where he should turn for strength. But for now, he needed Beth. Maybe when she’d healed him enough, strengthened him enough, he could turn back to God.
Seventeen
She’d married a lunatic and that was that.
Beth did her best not to care that she was married to a lunatic, but honestly, it was perturbing. A nice swat to Alex’s head with a Stetson would have suited her right now, but there wasn’t one handy. She held the idea in reserve for later.
“Here is the thread and needle, Alex.” She talked to him in short words, enunciated clearly, to penetrate the fog he seemed to have sunk into. “You sew him up while I get the bandages out.” Ban-da-ges, three syllable word. She hoped her lunatic husband could handle it.
Reaching for the thread with trembling hands, Beth thought how ridiculous it was that he was the doctor. He was the one everyone turned to. Worse yet, they might be right to do it. It galled her to admit it, but Alex was a better hand than she with the sutures. At least he was when his hands weren’t shaking.
She did a nice job, but she didn’t have his skill. She knew the work Alex did would heal faster and leave less of a scar.
The big, dumb jerk.
Beth didn’t wander off in case her beloved husband drifted off into whatever asylum he lived in when she stepped away from his side.
Being married was going to be a pure nuisance. She did fetch a washbasin, found fortunately right in the same room. Alex would probably sew his own brains away from his backbone if she left his sight. Blessed, or possibly cursed, with incredible empathy, Beth couldn’t help wondering what Alex had gone through to have scarred him so deeply.
The poor, big, dumb jerk.
They soon had Bart Farley sewn up, washed up, and tucked into bed with the help of Mrs. Farley. Bart was already grousing about going to bed when there was work to be done, which Beth took as a good sign. They left him to Mrs. Farley’s capable care.
Heading back to the hospital, Beth saw that her ma’s and pa’s horses were tied up in front of the building where Sally rested. Her folks would have things in hand. Now was as good a time as any. She grabbed Alex’s wrist and dragged him into an alley. She needed to figure out the source of his madness before she could fix him. Now was the time to dig into his head. And she intended to do that digging even if she needed to use a pickax. She opened her mouth to start yelling.
“Thank you.” Alex pulled her so close she couldn’t breathe and kissed every angry thought right out of her head.
“I heard you’re looking for a man?” A ferretlike man scuttled out of an alley.
Cletus looked the man over. He knew better than to trust this one, but most of his information came from sources like this. Purchased for the price of a pint of whiskey usually. It was Cletus’s job to sort the truth from the lies, but he was good at it. “I am.”
“C–can we have this—this meeting over there?” The man’s hands trembled as he pointed toward a saloon. His lips quivered.
He had a thirsty look, a desperate thirsty look.
“Let’s go.” Cletus led the way.
A half hour later, and a few bits poorer, Cletus smiled down at the notes he’d taken. This was it. The most promising description yet. He stepped out of the bar, missing the smoke and stench of liquor and men enjoying themselves.
A woman gasped and crossed in the middle of the dirt street to get away from him.
Maybe his smile was a little mean. Grunting in satisfaction, he tucked the paper in his pocket. Cletus swung up on his horse and turned it toward the trail. If it was true, Buchanan had been brought low. He’d be easy to catch. Cletus liked things easy.
Of course, in a dead-or-alive situation, Cletus preferred dead. Easier to transport a dead body than a live one. No escape attempts. But if Buchanan was as low-down as it sounded, turning his back on dying men, running like a yellow coward to save himself, it might not be that easy to find an excuse to shoot the man.
Chuckling, Cletus decided not to spend time pondering it. He’d find a way. Or wait until he was alone and make up something.
When it came to dead or alive, Cletus liked to keep things simple.
Alex wrapped her up tight and made her part of him. He was a married man. Right in front of God, he’d said his vows to the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, with strength enough for both of them.
“I can be a doctor if you’re with me.” He eased himself back and saw Beth, her eyes focused on his lips. She wanted this closeness as badly as he did. Well, it was more than Alex had ever hoped for. And he saw no reason not to send all his mending patients home—right now—and close up the doctor’s office for the day and just practice being married as the good Lord intended. He lowered his head toward those pretty pink lips.
“Buchanan, get out here.”
Alex’s eyes dropped shut. His father-in-law. Wonderful, just whom he hoped to see right now.
Alex let loose of Beth with considerable reluctance, slid one arm around her waist to remind Clay the woman belonged to him. He had a moment of such power and pleasure that he was tempted to call Clay “Pa” just to see what would happen. Surely Beth wouldn’t let her pa kill him.
Fighting the smile that wanted to spread across his face, Alex said, “What’s the problem?” He tried to sound interested, since Clay’s daughter was one of the patients back at the doctor’s office.
“Luther took some of the men out to bury the bodies in from the stage wreck, and we’ve got a big problem.”
Alex felt his throat begin to swell shut from panic. He glanced at Beth. “How close did you watch yesterday when I did that throat surgery on Sally?”
“Real close.” Beth blinked her eyes like a sleepy owl being forced awake in the daylight. “Why?”
“No reason. Just good to know you could perform the surgery should it be called for.” Alex turned back to Clay, who’d narrowed his eyes. That look probably came from finding his daughter being kissed in an alley. Wife or not, it was a disrespectful location for such a thing, no denying it. He hoped to find a spare moment, before Clay killed him, to point out that Beth had dragged Alex in there, not the other way around.
“Come on out here. I need to talk to you about the folks who died in that stagecoach wreck.” Clay worded it like a request, but Alex saw no choice but to obey, even knowing what his brand-new Pa wanted. Alex was going to be asked to deal with the dead bodies.
Alex walked toward Clay, compelled to move by a will one thousand times stronger than his own—his wife dragged him. “I’m not a mortician, McClellen. I don’t get bodies ready fo
r burial.”
“You come, too, Beth. I need to ask you some questions. I’ve sent for the Armitages, too.”
Suddenly Alex wasn’t quite so scared. This wasn’t about laying out a line of corpses. This was about what had happened out on that trail. Alex could handle that. Probably.
Beth came alongside Alex and he slid his arm back around her, this time to hold himself steady.
Coward. Weakling. Failure. Traitor.
The words described him perfectly. He should let go of her, send her back to her pa. Go crawl out in the desert to die. Instead he clung tightly to his wife.
The alley was shaded, and when Beth and Alex stepped out into the sunlight, Alex blinked before he focused on the men standing across the street. No bodies.
Two fully bearded old men and a black man, younger but still with shots of gray through his hair. Alex had seen the old men at McClellen’s ranch. Luther and Buff, they’d been called. Adam had been at church yesterday and, with his wife, took the McClellens’ children after the accident. He remembered Tillie had been there at the parson’s house. Lots of yesterday was a blur.
“They already buried the bodies, Alex.” Clay leaned down, nearly whispering into Beth’s ear. Alex could hear but no one else was close enough. “But this morning the sheriff rode out to the ranch real early. He went through the papers that didn’t belong to any survivors. Figured to find heirs and send word back, along with any money, to whomever would miss those folks. The driver and the man riding with him are known men around here, but the sheriff found papers that had to belong to the woman who died.”
Alex remembered that poor woman, lying dead, her eyes begging him to help her. He’d have killed himself trying if Beth hadn’t stopped him.
Through the window to Alex’s doctor’s office, Sophie was visible at Sally’s side. Parson Radcliff came pacing down the street, most likely to visit his wife.
The sheriff was talking with Luther, Buff, and Adam, glancing over at Clay every few seconds.
“This young woman has the same name as Mandy’s husband. You told me that the other night, Beth.”
“Yes, I remember.” Beth sounded as if she grieved for a woman she’d never known. She sounded wounded. Alex hated to think of all the wounds that were in store for her as a doctor. “She’s the right age. I wondered if she could be Mandy’s sister-in-law. Celeste Gray could have been our family.”
Clay made a sound so rude it shocked Alex. Why disparage the poor dead woman? “We found her satchel. The paperwork in it is almighty troubling. The only reason I’m telling you two is because you know her name and I don’t want you saying anything about her being family to that low-down, yellow coyote of a husband of Mandy’s.”
Alex, leaning in to listen, jerked his head up at the venom in Clay’s voice.
Beth jumped, too, so Alex wasn’t wrong in thinking this was a level of anger Beth wasn’t used to. “What’s wrong, Pa?”
“The sheriff, Buff, Luther, and Adam are the only ones but me who’ve seen those papers. If we’re readin’ ’em right, that young woman was married to Sidney Gray. The man your sister married just two days ago.”
Beth gasped. “What?”
Alex’s eyes felt as if they bulged out of his head. A married man, courting Clay McClellen’s daughter, and marrying her to boot. The man was a fool.
He glanced at Beth and saw the outrage on her face. She might be a kindly, compassionate woman, but she was a Texas cowgirl at heart. She looked ready to saddle a horse and set out after her sister.
Alex hoped Mandy was as tough, because a man who would tell such lies couldn’t be trusted in anything. And right now he had Mandy at his mercy. He’d never even met Mandy and Alex was ready to hunt Sidney Gray down.
“I’ve already wired the town up the trail, hoping to catch Mandy before she gets on the train. I told her it was urgent she come home.”
The four men—the sheriff, Buff, Luther, and Adam—approached Alex’s little circle as Clay went on. “But I didn’t put the truth of what we found in a telegram for the whole world to see, so she might not mind me. I ought to hear right away if she’s headed back. If she’s not, I know they’re heading for Denver. I’ll ride out to fetch her home.”
“The wire already came, Clay,” Luther said. “The telegraph office said the train for Denver went through last night late, and Mandy was on it for sure. She’s gone.”
Clay’s teeth ground together. With a short, hard jerk of his chin, he turned toward his horse. “I’ll be going then.”
Luther’s hand landed hard on Clay’s arm. “Nope, you can’t ride off to save your daughter and abandon the rest of your family, Clay. You’ll be gone for weeks getting to Denver. And it’s a big city. Finding her will be hard work.”
“Oh—yes—I—can—go get my daughter.” Clay’s tone made Alex’s stomach twist. The man was furious at this dishonor of Mandy.
“Clay, think for a second,” Luther said. “You know we’d watch the ranch and your family while you were gone. But you could be all winter hunting Mandy up.”
Alex saw Clay’s eyes go to the window framing Sophie.
“Your young’uns and Sophie need you. Buff and I have already decided. We’re riding out for Mandy as soon as we get the packhorses loaded. We’ll bring her back.”
Clay’s deadly eyes went from Luther to Buff to Sophie. “It don’t sit right to let anyone else take care of this business. This is a father’s duty.”
Those words cut at Alex’s heart. A father’s duty. His father had used that word many times. Duty. But he’d always talked about Alex’s duty to the family business. But Alex had no interest in running an industry. He’d wanted to heal. He’d been called to it. A father had a duty, too.
His father hadn’t seen that side of things. Clay McClellen did.
Beth spoke up. “You know, Pa, Mandy is legally married to Sidney. That woman was dead for hours before the time you told me Mandy said her wedding vows.”
“Sidney didn’t know that. He went right ahead and married her. Then he took off with her, probably knew he had a wife out there looking for him.”
“That don’t make the wedding less legal.” Beth looked at Alex, and Alex saw fear in Beth’s eyes. “He’s got rights over Mandy now.”
Which meant Alex had rights over Beth. He felt a little dizzy just thinking about it.
Clay looked at Beth as if she were a puzzle he’d been trying to solve for years. “You think Mandy’ll see it that way?”
“It’s the truth. Why would she see it any other way?”
“Then she’ll have to divorce him.”
Beth shuddered. “That would be a scandal for sure.”
Even Alex nodded. He’d barely heard of a divorce. It was a word spoken rarely and then in hushed, horrified tones. To get a divorce was a slap in God’s face. A blatant breaking of a vow made straight to heaven. Alex had never known anyone to do such a thing.
“I can solve that problem right quick, Clay. Reckon Sidney’ll make it easy for me, too.” Luther turned and headed for his horse.
Buff followed silently.
Clay nodded as he watched the old men.
As Luther swung up on his horse, Alex couldn’t quite keep his mouth shut. “How can he solve a problem like that?”
Clay turned back to Alex and gave him a look that turned him ice cold in the burning Texas heat. “He can unmarry ’em with his Winchester.”
Eighteen
Mandy had taken a beating.
After days on the rough-riding train, which stopped in every little town along the way, zigzagged east, then back west on its way north, even Sidney had lapsed into a sullen stupor. No more nonsense about sneaking off to luggage cars.
They were rushing to beat winter, but Mandy knew there was more involved than just getting there. They needed to get settled.
Nights were cooler as they headed north, but the late August weather was hot and sunny, turning the train car into an oven. Mandy felt about half-baked.
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The train stopped now and again, and Mandy and Sidney got off to eat on Sidney’s dwindling money. They’d stretch their legs, but the train paused only long enough to take on water and coal, then they went straight back to chugging along.
With every chuff of smoke, every clack of the wheels, Mandy felt herself moving farther and farther from her beloved family. Although she wept in the dark of night, when Sidney slept, she refused to let the tears fall during the day.
Sidney hated tears even more than Pa. Although Pa was more afraid of tears—the only thing Mandy knew of that her father feared—they made Sidney angry. Sidney said her loyalty belonged to him. And he was right. So the tears hardened in her throat until they felt like stones she carried inside her chest.
Mandy couldn’t see why Sidney thought she couldn’t love him and her family. Her heart had room for both. Some days those unshed tears seemed to lodge in her heart and focus on Sidney.
Please, God, don’t let me be unloving to my husband. Protect me from that. Forgive me for that. Protect me from the heartache I’ve felt ever since I left my family behind. Protect me.
One morning, after another brutally uncomfortable night of trying to sleep sitting up, Mandy looked out the window in the first light of dawn. She gasped at the view.
Mountains. Majestic, beautiful mountains. They were finally getting to their destination if the mountains were near.
It took the whole day, but they finally saw signs of a big town ahead. Denver. They’d made it.
Mandy watched out the window as the outskirts of town slipped by the ever-slowing train. She reached out and grabbed Sidney’s hand. “It’s so big!”
Sidney laughed. “This is nothin’. I grew up in Boston. Now that’s a big town.”
A magnificent building loomed ahead of them and above them as they drew nearer. It was built as if it wanted to rival the mountains for grandeur. Mandy saw a crowd gathered near the front of the massive, intimidating building. No doubt the spot the train would stop.
Sophie's Daughters Trilogy Page 12