by Jodi Thomas
A boy of about four or five opened the door to the dugout and walked across the shadows to the well. For a moment, the place looked peaceful in the dawn, except there were too many horses and saddles in the makeshift barn, too many still-smoking campfires around for a family. Bloated remains of a cow lay thirty feet away. Drum smelled whiskey in the air along with urine. If any family lived here, they were long gone or dead by now.
If the raid happened yesterday, the men would probably round up anything of value along with the stock and head south within a few hours. If the Rangers hadn't ridden all night, there was a strong possibility they wouldn't have caught up with the raiding party before the border.
Two men stepped out the doorway. One, slightly shorter than the first, half dragged a woman behind him. He wore gun belts across his chest with pearl-handled guns strapped into holsters. As he walked, he favored his left leg. "Franky." Drum silently checked off traits from a list and leveled his rifle.
The two outlaws walked toward his hiding place, both looking around as if they were seeking somewhere to talk. The pair stopped at the corner of the lean-to. Drum could see the crescent scar on the taller man's cheek: the final piece of identification.
Scar lit a cigar while the other pawed at the woman's blouse as if he were playing with a mouse. She made weak efforts to push his hands away, but she looked barely strong enough to stand.
"I say we kill her now," the one with the cigar growled as he pulled his handgun and pointed it toward her. "All she keeps doing is crying. The only men getting any sleep are the ones smart enough to bed down under the trees."
The other swore and shoved her to her knees between them. "She's the only thing we got to bargain with if that husband of hers comes back. Our orders are to kill Lloyd and his sons. I don't think she matters to the job."
"Her husband ain't coming back." The first man poked the woman with the barrel of his gun and laughed as she tried to move away. "He's probably glad to be rid of her. Noisy bother."
"No." The shorter one slapped the woman to the ground with the back of his hand and put his foot on her back. "He might come in shooting if he thought she was dead, but if he thinks she's alive, he might try to bargain. And when he does, he's a dead man.”
The other shook his head. "He'd be here by now if he was coming. Shoot her and be done with it. Then I'll shoot the boy, and we'll go after Lloyd and the other brat. They couldn't have gotten far.”
His partner pulled her up by her hair. "Yell!" he demanded. "Yell so that man of yours knows he needs to come get you." She shook her head, refusing.
He had to hit her hard twice with the side of his gun before she screamed, her voice hoarse with exhaustion and panic. Her cry echoed through the still dawn. One of the men wrapped in a blanket a hundred yards away yelled for someone to shut her up.
Even in the pale light, Drum could see her eyes were swollen and black, and her face was covered in dried blood. He wondered how many times in the past twelve hours the men had forced her outside and made her scream. She didn't look like she could take many more beatings. He didn't even want to think what might have happened to her inside the dugout.
When the short raider called Franky dropped her to the ground with a hard kick. Drum pulled the trigger, putting a bullet through the man's skull. A heartbeat later, he fired his pistol, sending the second man crumpling in a dead gurgle of pain. The gun in the raider's hand fired more from reflex than defense.
The dawn was silent, then he heard the woman whimpering as she crawled away from the blood pooling in the dirt and into the shadow of the lean-to.
He knew he should stay put-those were his orders-but he couldn't. Drum dropped from the rafters and lifted the woman out of the dirt. She feebly tried to fight him as he carried her back to the shadows of the lean-to.
"I've got to get you out of sight” he whispered. "You'll be safe soon. Until then. I'm here to help”
She nodded once in understanding as he lowered her into an empty water trough and tossed two saddle blankets across it for cover.
Men pulling on their guns exploded from the cabin; Roak slipped back up into the rafters. The men around dying campfires scrambled out in their long johns, strapping on their gun belts as they stood.
He watched the gang run around like headless chickens. They examined the dead bodies and shouted guesses as to what must have happened. Before anyone could take charge, the Rangers were on top of them. A half dozen men rode in hard with bullets flying and war yells like they were a hundred strong and not outnumbered.
When the firing stopped, half of the outlaws were dead, and the other half looked like they wished they were. One Ranger had been grazed in the leg.
Roak lowered himself from the rafters again. He pulled the saddle blankets off the trough and lifted the woman out. "It's over” he said as he carried her into the yard. "No one is going to hurt you again. The Rangers are here”
The youth he'd seen at the Ranger station ran up to him, but when he saw the woman's face, he seemed afraid to come closer. "Ma?" he whispered, as if he wasn't sure of her identity.
"She'll be all right," Captain Harmon said almost convincingly enough to be believed. "Your ma will be fine."
The other kid Drum had seen getting water ran out of the cabin. He would have run to the woman, but his big brother stopped him.
"Where's your pa?" Drum asked the older brother.
The kid shook his head. "He told me to ride for the Rangers. I started, but when I heard fire, I doubled back. My father was shooting at one of the raiders from the trees. He killed the man, but my father took a bullet in the stomach. It took him some time to die, but he never made a sound. I covered him with brush so no one would find his body."
Drum heard the hint of an English accent in the older boy's words, but there was no time to ask questions.
Captain Harmon gave orders to round up the outlaws and tie them to their horses. He'd been a Ranger for ten years and had hardened too much to offer the boys comfort. Times were harsh in this land. Words couldn't change that fact, he often said.
Drum didn't have to ask about what to do with the woman. Turner Harmon wouldn't know the answer. It wasn't his problem. If she'd been dead, they would have buried her, but his worry was getting the raiders to justice, not caring for the injured. He needed all his Rangers to move the prisoners.
Drum turned to the older boy. "You got family near? Or friends?"
The kid shook his head. "That's the reason we picked this place. No one for miles and miles."
"You got a wagon?"
He nodded.
"Then hitch it up." Roak looked at the younger brother. "You go get all the blankets and any canteens of water you can round up. I'll ride with you to Galveston and see if we can't get your mother some care. I know a doctor staying at the Patterson Hotel who might be able to help.”
Both boys seemed grateful to have something to do. They followed orders. Within minutes, the wagon was ready. Roak lowered the woman in among the blankets as the boys climbed in. The youngest carried a huge family Bible.
When he swung into his saddle, Turner said, "We can't wait on her, Roak. She'd be safer here than alone out on the road.”
He hadn't said the words, but Roak knew the captain thought she was already dead.
"I'll ride with them” Roak answered.
Captain Harmon shook his head, then turned and ordered the Rangers to mount up.
Drum tied his horse, Satan, to the back, knowing the wagon would never keep up, but he'd do the best he could. He handed the youngest boy his bandanna. "Keep this wet and covering her face. Maybe it'll help some. Give her water any time she'll take it."
One by one, the Rangers passed him without a word. He had a feeling they thought he was a fool. The woman had two small sons. Busted up like she was, even if she lived, her life would be one step above hell. It almost seemed kinder to let her die.
As the last man passed, he slowed and handed his canteen to Roak. "You might be
needing this” the young Ranger said. "It's water laced with a bit of whiskey.”
Drum took the canteen. "I'll get the canteen back to you, Daniel.”
Daniel Torry nodded once and spurred his horse forward.
CHAPTER 5
SAGE SPENT THE DAY SHOPPING FOR CLOTHES SHE'D need when she returned to Whispering Mountain. Galveston, the second largest city in Texas, seemed made for such a day with endless shops, food vendors on every street corner, and the sun shining so bright everything sparkled. She found herself wishing the sunbeams could reach deep down to her heart.
She'd left, a girl wanting to change the world, and returned, a widow knowing she could change nothing. The heavy veil of sorrow she'd been surrounded in for months seemed to lift only a fraction now and then.
The trousers and plaid cotton shirts she'd stored away for her return didn't seem right somehow. That young, adventurous crusader was gone. She bought tailored split riding skirts and fine, lace-trimmed blouses, careful to pick blues and browns, no black. She also bought boots and jackets made for warmth not fashion. Her life was twisting again, and all she felt she could do was circle with the current.
Bonnie, who had trouble finding anything to fit, walked with her. She bought little, but she ordered a few dresses that looked more like uniforms than proper dresses. She said that she might be going into the wilderness, but that was no excuse for not being a professional. She also ordered a dozen heavy cotton aprons for herself. In one store she let Sage buy her another traveling suit. The first one she'd worn since they left Boston was of such fine material it still looked new. The second suit was of hardier material still, made for their fall journey to Sage's family ranch.
By late afternoon, they stopped to eat supper on the wide porch of the hotel. Bonnie disappeared to check on her cat, while Sage relaxed into the sounds of an evening in Galveston: people rushing home, music pouring out of saloons, children laughing.
When Bonnie returned, Sage asked, "Are our stowaways all right?"
Bonnie nodded. "That mutt seems happy to just stay in the corner of your room and sleep. Bullet, however, is used to the run of the place. She's not too happy about having to stay in my room."
They ordered, and as they had almost every night. Bonnie questioned her about what it would be like when they got to Whispering Mountain. The plans to change a house the family owned in town into a doctor's office made the nurse's eyes sparkle. She'd told Sage of the huge old home her parents left her. Everything was rotting from neglect. Bonnie had only been able to earn enough to feed and clothe herself. She'd admitted to Sage once that if the house had been worth anything, her older brother would have tried harder to take it from her when their parents died.
Halfway through her meat pie, Bonnie interrupted her thoughts. "You still haven't done anything about that dog”
Sage sighed. "I smuggled him out for a walk early this morning, and he did his business."
"That's not what I mean. You were going to find him a place to stay."
Sage hadn't even tried. "I'll work on it tomorrow.”
Bonnie didn't look like she believed the promise. "Speaking of dogs, I haven't seen that brother of your departed husband."
As if her words conjured up the man, Shelley Darnell Lander stepped onto the porch. He'd shaved and brushed his clothes today, but there was still something about him that made Sage uncomfortable. He wanted something more than to help; that was plain.
"Evening, ladies." He bowed low. "I was hoping to have the pleasure of buying you two dinner, but I see you've already ordered."
He pulled up a chair and ordered a whiskey from the passing waiter. "I guess you heard the Rangers just brought in a band of raiders who may have been the gang giving the homesteads to the south a hell of a time. They ride in fast and hard, taking as much of the ranchers' herd as they can stampede out."
"No." Bonnie's eyes widened. "Raiders?"
The nurse had an I-don't-know-if-I-can-deal-with-this look on her face.
Shelley moved in closer. "Word is this last raid was personal. They weren't just after the cattle; they wanted the man and his family dead."
"They came to kill?" Bonnie's breath squeaked in and out. "Not just rob and kill him but wipe him and his off the land."
Sage leaned back in her chair. Stories like this reminded her of the time she and her brothers had found trouble. Every time, the fear of losing one of her brothers was far greater than losing her own life.
Bonnie stared at Shelley. "How close was the ranch these raiders hit?"
"A day's ride, maybe less.” He patted the nurse's hand. "But don't you ladies worry none. I'll stay close and protect you. In fact, if you have any valuables or money, you might want me to put them away in my safe while you're here. I have a place down by the docks. My office is as guarded as a bank. I've got a safe shipped all the way from Chicago that no one will ever break into.”
"We have little” Sage lied, "but we thank you for the offer."
Shelley cut her a glance then smiled, and she swore she could hear him thinking that he knew it wouldn't be that easy to separate the little widow from her inheritance. "Of course," he said out loud. "You are safe at the hotel. However, if you venture out, please send for me. The streets are safe enough, but the docks are not. I can't tell you the number of times I've been robbed, and I run a respectable house."
Sage was about to ask exactly where and what his place of business was, when a broad-shouldered cowboy stepped up to her table. He was dusty and didn't look like he belonged on the gingerbread-trimmed porch of the Grand, but the circle star on his chest demanded respect.
"Miss” he said as he removed his hat. "I beg your pardon, but do you know where I can find a doctor staying here? The man at the desk said he saw you carrying in a medical bag, so you might know. It's real important that I find the doc."
Sage stood. "I'm a doctor."
To his credit, the Ranger took the information in stride. "Do you know a man named Drummond Roak?"
"Is he hurt?" She fought down the vision of him hurt and dying. She'd spent more than one night worrying about the wild kid killing himself. The fact that she still cared about him surprised her.
"No, miss, but he's coming in with a wagon carrying a woman who has been beat up bad by the raiders. He said if there was anybody who could help the lady it would be the doc at the Grand Hotel. I figured I'd help a little by letting you know they're coming."
Bonnie stood, ready for action.
Shelley pushed his way between them. "There's a misunderstanding. I'm afraid, sir," he said to the cowboy. "This little lady was married to my brother. He was a well-known-"
No one, including Sage, had time to listen to Shelley's rambling.
"Well have everything ready." Sage moved toward the hotel doors and noticed that both Bonnie and the Ranger fell into step beside her. "Will you let us know when he pulls up?"
"Yes, miss.”
She glanced back over her shoulder as she stepped inside. "It's Doctor. Ranger. Dr. McMurray.” Without much thought, she'd dropped Barret's name and returned to her own.
"It's Daniel, Doc. Daniel Torry."
"Now look here” Shelley's voice came from somewhere behind them. "You can't ask a lady to see to-"
Sage barely noticed Shelley running to catch up as she stormed the front desk. "I'll need a room on the first floor to care for an injured woman and water put on to boil”
The clerk, who'd been listening, nodded. "You can use the office."
She turned to Bonnie. "I'll need-"
The nurse was already halfway up the stairs. "I'm on it. Bag, aprons, and bandages. If you get the room, I can have it ready within ten minutes.”
Sage stood for a moment as everyone rushed to follow orders. Barret used to call her the little general in skirts when emergencies came into the hospital. She'd thought she'd left that all behind, but it seemed to have followed her to Texas.
An hour later, half the hotel staff and all the guests
were in the lobby as Drum carried in the patient wrapped in so many blankets no one could see her. Daniel Torry directed him to the first room on the right and then stood guard so no one else could enter.
Drum nodded toward Sage as he moved in. "She's been quiet for a long while. I don't know if that's good or bad. I pushed the team as much as I dared. Some of the blood on her belongs to the guy who did this to her.”
Sage helped lower the woman onto a table and began to slowly fold back the quilts. "How bad off is the guy who beat her? I can see him next."
"Pretty bad," Roak said as he moved out of the way. "I shot him through the head from five feet away. If you want to see him, you'll have to wait until I scoop up his brains”
Bonnie's squeak was the only sound in the room. Roak looked totally serious, but Sage had a feeling his last words were his idea of a joke.
Sage folded back the last quilt and felt bile rise as she stared down at her new patient covered in blood.
Roak lowered his hat and backed a few feet toward the door. He'd done all he could.
"We'll take over from here” Sage squared her shoulders and stepped closer to the table. She gently checked the woman's pulse, then moved her fingers over the head wounds to make sure the skull wasn't fractured.
Bonnie cut away the clothes now stiff with dried blood as Sage searched along the woman's body, analyzing what had to be cared for first. The doctor that Barret had made her into by all those years working beside him served her well now.
She glanced back at Drum leaning next to the door. "Thanks for getting her here alive. She's in bad shape, really bad, but she'd have had no chance without you."
Drum didn't move. He might have stood longer watching, but Daniel pulled him backward through the door.
"Come on Roak," Sage heard the Ranger say. "I'll buy you a drink.”
"I don't need a drink." Drum answered.
"Then I'll drink them both." The Ranger closed the door.
CHAPTER 6
SAGE AND BONNIE BEGAN THEIR WORK. THE WOMAN must have passed out with the pain, but she kept fighting, kept breathing. She had broken ribs along her left side, three broken fingers, and deep cuts on both her arms as if someone had carved on her for fun. She had what looked like burns on both her palms and a long, thin gash across the top of one breast deep enough to still be bleeding and get infected. Bruises were too many to count, but the worst were on her face. Both her eyes had swollen shut, and there was a good chance her broken nose would never heal straight.