Love and Glory: The Coltrane Saga, Book 3 (53 page)

“I went to the grave after I left here last night,” Travis said “I opened it. There was nothing there—no coffin, no bones, nothing.”

The doctor stretched his arm across the desk to touch Travis’ folded hands. “What are you going to do, Captain?”

“There’s nothing I can do. She has to know me, know her son. It can’t go on this way.”

“Captain, listen!”

He spoke so sharply that Travis was startled.

“Your wife is my patient. She is going to have a baby. It isn’t easy for me to tell you this now, on top of everything else, but Mrs. Coltrane is not a strong woman. I’m worried about her. Whatever you do about your first wife, please don’t do it now. Not while your present wife is in the condition she is in.

“As for Stella”—he paused, shook himself—“Kitty, nothing has changed. She still does not know who she is, who you are, or anything else about herself. It must go on that way. I know what you must be going through. This has to be a terrible, terrible shock, but for the present Mrs. Coltrane’s sake, you must do nothing. Things can go on as they are for now.”

Travis rose. “Of course. I won’t do anything. We’ll just wait and see what happens.”

“I doubt that anything will happen, Captain,” the doctor said remorsefully. “Stella can go on as she is for the rest of her life. And you, you are going to have to live with things as they are. You have other obligations now.”

“I don’t have to be reminded, Doctor,” Travis said wearily, turning toward the door. Suddenly he paused. There was one last question that had to be asked. “Does she…see anyone? Is there a man?”

The doctor smiled, shaking his head. “No. This hospital is her whole world. There is no man, Captain. Oh, they ask to court her, you can be sure of that, but she just isn’t interested.”

Travis walked out and closed the door behind him.

He found Sam propped up in bed, his chest bandaged, demanding a drink of sourmash and a cigar. A young nurse was arguing with him and when Travis appeared, Sam fell silent.

As soon as the nurse scurried away, Sam asked anxiously, “Did you talk to her again? I saw her this morning, and I tried to ask her a few things…where she was from, stuff like that. She acted like she didn’t even hear me.”

“Sam, don’t be asking her any more questions,” Travis said sternly, drawing up a chair and sitting. Leaning forward so as not to be overheard, he told Sam of his conversation with Dr. Watkins.

When he had finished, Sam was crying, unashamed. “Oh, Lord, son, what are you gonna do? It’d almost be better if she
was
dead.”

“Don’t say that!” Travis shouted, then lowered his voice. “She’s happy. She’s doing what she loves doing. She’s got her life, and I’ve got mine, and that’s the way it has to be.”

“You know you can’t live here, in this town with her. You won’t be able to stand it.”

“I have to, Sam. I’ve got Marilee to consider. None of this is her fault, and she’s going to have my baby. If she finds out about this, it could be very bad. Dr. Watkins says she’s not in good health. That’s just what I’ve been afraid of. She looks terrible.”

“What if Kitty gets her memory back? What if she recognizes you? What then?”

“I’ll have to face that when and if it happens. Damn it, Sam,” he cried, fists clenched, “I don’t know if I can even face Kitty again.”

Sam’s gaze moved beyond him. Lips grimly set, he whispered, “Well, we’re about to find out.”

She was walking through the door, golden-red hair loose about her face, sparkling in the bright daylight spilling through the windows. She was wearing another white dress, this one fresh and crisp, skirt swishing as she walked between the rows of beds, bodice stretched tightly across her large bosom.

Pausing to speak to the patients, she smiled, lavender eyes glowing with the misty lights Travis had always adored. His memory flashed back through the years to the first time he had ever seen her. Long, silky hair that ached to be touched, eyes that could swallow a man alive in their shadows, their dark fires. Her skin, so soft. Her legs, long, shapely, tapering to slender, delicate ankles. Hips firm to the touch, buttocks curving saucily and begging to be squeezed.

God, she was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he had ever known.

Suddenly he found himself staring once more into those deep lavender eyes, wanting to drown in them. But her gaze held not desire, but defiance. “Well, it’s the man who dislikes women doctors,” she greeted him coolly. “Tell me, sir, were you surprised to find your friend still alive this morning?”

She was looking at the chart she held in her hand, and when he did not speak, she glanced up. “Well, were you so surprised that you can’t find your voice, sir?”

Travis grinned a huge big grin. It was the same old Kitty! Never intimidated. Afraid of no one. Ready to meet anything. The same old Kitty! “Yeah, I guess I was,” he said, still grinning. “But if I were in his place and had a beautiful woman like you waiting on me, I’d fight to hang on, too.”

Her chin tilted upward in that familiar characteristic that told him she was getting mad. “Sir,” she snapped, “I do not wait on any man hand and foot. That is not my job. My job is to try to make them well. I succeed most of the time. In your case”—her eyes flicked over him with distaste—“I might not waste my time.”

Sam had been watching every movement. Suddenly he could not resist the temptation to blurt, “This is Travis Coltrane, Doctor. He was a mighty fine cavalryman in the war. A captain. Did you ever hear of Coltrane’s Raiders?”

Travis shot him an angry look.

Kitty’s expression did not change. “No. I try not to think about the war, Mr. Bucher. Dwelling on the past only shadows the future.”

She pushed Travis aside to get closer to Sam’s bed. “How do you feel this morning? Is there much soreness here?” She touched his chest gently, and he winced. She nodded and made a notation on the chart. “You are going to be laid up for a while. So you just relax and let us take care of you.”

“By the way,” she frowned, “I hear you have been badgering the nurses for whiskey and cigars. You will have neither while you are here. Understand?”

She turned sharply to Travis, her eyes glittering. “And you, sir. Don’t be smuggling in anything to him, or I will see that you are not allowed to visit anymore. You strike me as the kind who would take great joy in defying rules.”

“Whatever you say, Princess,” he smiled.

She walked to the next bed, dismissing Travis.

Travis’ eyes followed her every move, a stricken look on his face. “It was like the first time,” he whispered wretchedly to Sam. “We were at war with each other then.”

“You better just stay away from her. I sensed the sparks between you two, and it can only lead to trouble.”

“I’ve got to leave now.” Travis stepped back from the bed. “I haven’t been back to the hotel. I was up all night, and I don’t even know if Marilee got back all right. I’ll look in on you later.”

He hurried from the ward, unaware that Kitty was watching him leave.

However arrogant he appeared to be, she could not deny she found him attractive. The smiles he gave her were taunting, as though he knew she found him appealing. She cursed herself for suddenly wondering what it would be like to feel those sensual lips on her own. The firm set to his jaw, hair the color of the raven’s wing, eyes neither blue nor black but a sheen in between that was devastating. A handsome man, but dangerous. She sensed that at once. Tall, husky, she was sure that, had he been bare-chested, she would have seen the thick mat of hair trailing down to…she felt herself blushing. She could almost see
that
part of him as well.

He had called her
Princess.
It was somehow familiar, as though the name belonged to her.

Nonsense. She must shake herself out of this. What was the matter with her?

Travis found Marilee standing at the hotel window, looking out at the street. The face she turned to him was even more pale and gaunt than before.

For a moment, he could not speak. He looked at her, feeling what? Pity?

“Travis, whatever is wrong?” she called to him in a wistful voice. “You never came back for me last night. Martha Troby’s husband finally brought a wagon for me. Mr. Sacks came back and told us Sam was going to be all right, yet you didn’t come home all night.”

He went into the bedroom and threw himself across the bed. He felt Marilee sit beside him, her cool fingertips smoothing back the thick, unruly hair from his forehead. “Travis, what’s wrong?” She spoke so sweetly. “Please tell me.”

“Please,” he whispered hoarsely, “please, Marilee. Just leave me alone for right now. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“You aren’t sorry about the baby, are you?” she persisted. “I don’t think you really wanted me to leave you, Travis. I was wrong to try to stand in the way of moving to the desert.”

“We aren’t moving to the desert. Not now.”

She gasped, startled, jerking her hand away. “I don’t understand.”

“We’re staying in town until the baby is born. Then we’ll move.”

She touched him again, and her voice was thick with relief. “Travis, you are worried about me, aren’t you? And you’re staying in town so I can be near the doctor. I love you for that. I do, Travis.”

He turned suddenly and pulled her into his arms. She did love him. He knew that. She was his wife. Nothing had changed. Nothing could ever change. He knew that, too.

He pulled her down beside him and moved his hand to caress her breast gently.

And all the while they made love he thought of violet eyes and golden-red hair and a love forbidden to him.

Chapter Thirty

It was cold. An icy wind blew across the desert, and Travis shivered despite his heavy shirt and coat. He stood on top of a ladder, nailing planks into what would be the first of several barns.

Casting a wary eye to the northwest, he could see the bank of grayish black clouds moving in fast. Snow, and a hell of a lot of it. Damn winter, he cursed, moving down the ladder. He had wanted so badly to finish the barn before bad weather descended on them.

Stepping from the bottom rung onto the ground, he looked at the few cattle standing in the pen. Brood stock, they had cost plenty, and he wasn’t about to leave them outside all winter. The small shelter he had repaired from old ruins would be better than nothing.

He picked up a stick and began to round them up, herding them through the rail gate and into the rickety stable. The clouds were moving faster, and it was getting dark far too early. Once the stock was safely tucked away, he headed for the cabin. The wind had picked up ferociously, and despite his size and strength, he found himself struggling against the whipping force.

Finally inside, he slammed the door and bolted it. Glad now that he had thought to store some wood inside, he set about starting a blaze in the fireplace. Once that was done, there was only food to think about. He wasn’t really hungry, though. It seemed he had no desire to eat anymore.

The flames crackled and popped, and he stared into them pensively, reflecting on the past few months. He had been unable to keep his vow to stay in Virginia City until after the baby was born. Having Kitty nearby became too much for him.

Strangely, Marilee had taken the news of his move to the desert calmly and quietly, and when he finished explaining the need to get things settled before the baby arrived, she had agreed. She seemed quite content to remain at the hotel, near Dr. Watkins, and she wanted John to stay with her.

Sam understood the hell Travis was enduring, but he offered no sympathy. “You can’t change nothing. And you sure as hell can’t hurt Marilee. You said so yourself. So there’s nothing to do but try to forget it.”

Forger it?
Travis laughed, but it was an unsteady laugh. Forget what it was like to hold Kitty close to him and play his fingers on her warm, eager body? Forget her defiant spirit? Forget Kitty?

Sam was still in town, but had mended and was traveling back and forth to the site and the new diggings. He had promised to keep an eye on Marilee—and Kitty, but Travis doubted he would relay much news of Kitty.

Outside, the wind screamed and icy snow pelted the windows. A draft blew down the chimney, sending the flames skittering wildly. It was cold. Damn, but it was cold. He got up and found a blanket and wrapped himself in it and wished morning would hurry and come. If the snow wasn’t too deep, he would make the trip into town for supplies and see John…and Marilee. And he silently promised himself not to go anywhere near the blasted hospital.

He pictured the expanse of land outside,
his
land, the cabin, the small cattle barn. He realized he would have to ride to Gilbert Sacks’ place in the morning and ask him to feed his livestock in case he stayed a day or two. Gilbert was sure to be around. His wife was also expecting a baby any day, and he wouldn’t be straying too far from home.

Gratefully, Travis felt his eyelids finally growing heavy. Turning on his side on the narrow cot, he pulled the blanket tighter around himself and allowed himself to drift away, hoping that the dream would not come to him again, the dream of lavender eyes and golden-red hair and a body a man would die for.

He heard the sound from far, far away and told himself it was only the storm. Pulling the pillow over his face, he struggled to stay asleep in the other world. Then suddenly he sat straight up. It was not the storm. Someone was calling him. A woman’s voice.