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."
CHAPTER 4
DRUMMOND LISTENED AS THE RANGERS WENT OVER the plan one more time in detail. He didn't really need to know everything. He just had to know who to shoot.
"We'll meet back here in half an hour.” Captain Harmon said. "I want all men sober and ready to ride. Have weapons fully loaded and fresh horses saddled. We'll ride hard through the night.”
A half-grown kid stood between the desk and the stove. Fear and worry blended among the streaks of tears on his cheeks. The captain put his arm on the boy's shoulder and told him he had to eat and drink something, or he'd never make the ride with them. The boy nodded and dropped on the chair behind the desk, but he didn't seem to notice the food before him. He stared at the men in the room, searching each one's face as if looking for one who might save his family.
The Rangers collected their gear. Not one spoke to Drum. He wasn't one of them; he never had been. They respected him, spoke to him when they had to, but not one invited him to join them. He was an outsider they sometimes needed. He signed on for the same dangerous missions they did. He risked his life, like each one of them, but not one would mourn him if he didn't come back alive.
Drum told himself he didn't care. Friends had never been a luxury he could afford. Words like family or friend or loved ones were not part of his world. He'd do this job and be paid well if he lived. Then he'd go on with his life the only way he knew how: alone.