Paper Roses (19 page)

It had been only a month since she’d taken this road, but so much had changed. Sarah leaned back, savoring the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses’ hooves and the sweet scent of fresh grass. The sun was higher now and hotter than it had been that day, the sky a more vivid blue. The trees were fully leafed, making Texas even more beautiful than her first impression. Though the fields had been green that day, today they were a riot of color. Delicate burgundy winecups, yellow daisies, and Indian paintbrush poked through the carpet of bluebonnets, creating a scene that drew Sarah’s eye again and again.

A month ago Thea had clung to her, afraid to let even a few inches of space separate them. Today her sister was playing contentedly in the wagon bed. Though significant, those changes were dwarfed by what had happened inside Sarah. When she’d traveled toward Ladreville, she’d been filled with sorrow and fear. Austin’s death and uncertainty over the future had weighed on her more heavily than the pails of water Thea had attempted to carry, only to discover they were far beyond her ability. Now anticipation made Sarah smile. She knew what the future would bring, and, though it was not the future that had led her to Texas, it was good.

Part of the reason it was good was sitting next to her. When he’d met her in San Antonio, Clay had been a stranger, a man who’d been forced to deliver tragic news. Now he was . . . Sarah paused, trying to find the correct word. A friend. Exactly. Clay was not her brother-in-law, but his actions had proven that he was a friend. Only a friend would have taken a whole day away from his responsibilities to help her.

“A penny for your thoughts,” that friend said.

“I was thinking about Austin,” she prevaricated. The last thing that Sarah wanted was to admit how often she thought of Clay, not his brother. That would only embarrass both of them. “I wish I had met him.” That was no lie.

Clay’s lips tightened, as they often did when he spoke of his brother, before they turned up in a smile. “He was a fine man. Did you know he’s responsible for many of the children speaking English?”

Though Sarah had wondered at the children’s fluency, comparing it to their parents’ halting English, she had never asked how they’d learned a new language. “How did he do that?”

“He turned it into a game.”

Clay’s eyes moved slowly, scanning the horizon, studying the thick brush that lined the road, his vigilance reminding Sarah of the dangers he claimed might lurk along the road. Though the rolling hills and the glossy green leaves of the live oaks appeared peaceful, Clay was taking no chances. The realization warmed Sarah’s heart. Other than her parents, no one had ever worried about her. Her suitors had made it clear that they were doing her a favor by courting her and that she would be expected to care for them, not they her.

Clay’s expression cleared, telling Sarah he’d seen no hint of danger. “Austin had the fanciest saddle in town,” he said. “He knew all the children wanted to sit on it, so he would teach them a few words. Whoever remembered the most the next day got to sit on the horse and, if they were old enough, they were allowed to ride.”

“Clever. Maybe Austin should have been a teacher.”

“Hardly. He was a rancher, through and through, like Pa.” Clay’s smile broadened at the memory of happier times. “They both liked games, though, and would spend hours playing chess.”

Because she was an only child for most of her life, Sarah’s pastimes had been solitary: reading, painting, practicing the piano. “Do you play?” she asked Clay.

“Not well.” He shrugged. “Austin tried to teach me, but I was never proficient. The game moves too slowly for me.”

As he spoke, an idea lodged in Sarah’s mind. “Will you teach me?”

Clay looked at her as if she’d asked him to tutor her in charming snakes. “Why? You need two people. I have no interest in playing, and I’m not sure who else in Ladreville knows how.”

Sarah turned around, assuring herself that Thea was happily occupied in the wagon bed. At some point, she might teach her sister chess, but that wasn’t her immediate concern. “I wouldn’t ask you to play, once I learned the moves.”

“Then why learn?” Clay was clearly mystified. “Chess is not a game for one.”

The answer was simple. “I’d play with your father. You said he once enjoyed chess. Maybe he would like to try something that reminds him of his former life.” Sarah forbore mentioning the resistance she met each time she tried to help Pa walk. Clay didn’t need to know that she’d continued to exercise his father’s legs. The fact was, healing came in many forms. Chess games would be in addition to those sessions, not a substitute for them. “Pa handles a spoon well enough that I imagine he could move chess pieces.”

Raising an eyebrow, Clay gave her a quick smile. “You were right about having him eat with us, so I’m going to trust you on this. We’ll start our lessons tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Clay.”

To Sarah’s relief, they encountered none of the hazards Clay had feared, and the rest of the drive to San Antonio was spent in casual conversation while Sarah entertained her now-bored sister. Sarah would be glad when they arrived and Thea could run for a few minutes, expending some of her abundant energy. When they reached the city and found the stores Madame Rousseau had recommended, Clay remained outside, watching Thea run and jump while Sarah purchased the needed supplies in less time than she’d thought possible. The wagon was now filled with parcels, leaving only a small area for Thea and her doll.

Sarah suspected that Thea, who regarded Clay as a playmate, would not be content to remain in the back. Each day her sister grew more attached to Clay and Pa. Although that was good for Thea, it concerned Sarah. How would Thea react when they moved to their own house? Sarah shook herself mentally. She’d worry about that when the time drew near. First, she needed to get the school organized. Only then could she start saving money and searching for a house. It was odd, though, that the prospect of living in one of the quaint half-timbered houses no longer held as much appeal as it once had.

“Are you two ladies ready for dinner?” Clay asked when Sarah left the last store.

She nodded, welcoming the opportunity to think of something other than moving from the Bar C. “Martina packed a basket of food.” When Sarah started to reach for it, Clay laid a restraining hand on her arm.

“I know, but I thought you and Thea might enjoy a meal at the hotel.” Clay nodded at Thea’s bonnet, which had come untied for what seemed like the hundredth time and hung down her back, providing no protection against the sun’s rays. “This will be a chance to spend some time out of the sun.”

Sarah nodded her agreement. It wasn’t only Thea who’d benefit from the shade. Her own skin was beginning to redden. A few minutes later, Clay hitched the horses to a post and ushered Sarah and Thea into the hotel he’d chosen. Though the exterior was unprepossessing, the dining room was fancier than Sarah had expected, with linen tablecloths and fine china. She looked around, dubious, when the waiter seated them. This was not a suitable place for an active two-year-old. “I’m worried about Thea breaking something.”

Clay appeared unfazed. “We’ll ask for a tin cup and plate.” Motioning to the waiter, who’d left them alone to consider the menu selection, Clay explained what he needed.

“Yes, sir. I’ll bring your daughter’s plate.” The man practically clicked his heels in his eagerness to serve.

Though Clay nodded, Sarah flushed with embarrassment. “She’s not . . .”

“Thank you.” Clay’s look cautioned her not to continue. “You let him think . . .”

Once again Clay overrode her words. “No harm was done. Besides, there will be less gossip if everyone believes we’re a family.”

“I see.” But they were not a family.

As he lifted Thea into the wagon bed, Clay bit back a smile, knowing Sarah would not appreciate his amusement. Still, it had been humorous, watching her blush at the waiter’s assumption that they were married. Though she was an attractive woman even when she wore her most serious expression, a blush and a smile turned her into downright beautiful. And that made a man consider ways to provoke a new blush.
Stop
it, Clay. You have no business thinking those thoughts. You’ll
be leaving Texas soon, and she’ll be staying.

“Ride horsey, Papa Clay?”

He shook his head, thankful that Thea had remained oblivious to the currents running between him and her sister. She’d seemed to find nothing unusual, whereas Clay . . . He must have been crazy to agree to bring Sarah and Thea here. Agree? He’d insisted on it. The moment the words had escaped his mouth, he’d realized he would be creating the scene that haunted so many dreams, the image of the three of them sitting in the front of the wagon. Fortunately, Sarah had agreed when he’d suggested Thea play in back.

Perhaps that was the reason the ride hadn’t triggered unwelcome thoughts. The truth was, the day had been more enjoyable than he’d thought possible. Clay couldn’t recall the last time a drive had passed so quickly or when he’d laughed so much. He didn’t need to search far for the reason. It was sitting next to him, in the form of a woman who jested and blushed and made him forget his sorrows, if only for a moment.

The sun had set by the time they crossed the Medina and headed for the ranch. Thea slept in the back, and Sarah, visibly tired, dozed occasionally. Only Clay needed to remain alert, watching for predators.

No predator greeted him as he drove toward the barn. Instead, he saw Martina waiting for him, her face white with strain. “Praise the Lord! You’re home.”

Her tense greeting sent fear rushing through his veins. Something was desperately wrong. Clay jumped out of the wagon. “Is Pa all right?”

“Yes. But Leah Dunn is not. Dr. Adler sent a message hours ago, asking you to go. He said you’d understand.”

Clay took a deep breath, willing his pulse to return to normal as he helped Sarah climb out of the wagon. Pa was fine. That was what mattered. Leah Dunn was not his worry. She was Herman’s patient, not his. Almost involuntarily, Clay asked, “Did he say what was wrong?”

“Something about her throat closing up.”

Clay shuddered as his mind began to race, trying to imagine what had caused the symptoms and how to alleviate them. “I can’t.” The words were almost a whisper.
Why are you asking
this, Herman?
The answer was simple. The treatment would require perfect eyesight, and that was something Herman no longer possessed. The older doctor was turning to his protégé, for he hadn’t believed Clay when he’d said he would not take over his practice. “I can’t.” As visions of his brother’s lifeless body flashed before him, Clay repeated the words.

Sarah touched his arm, then waited until he looked at her before she asked, “Why not?” Her brown eyes filled with confusion and something else—something that looked dangerously close to pity. Clay didn’t need pity, and he didn’t need to heal the town’s sick.

“I’m not Ladreville’s doctor.”

“But you are a doctor. If the situation is as grave as it sounds, you’re this woman’s only chance. If you don’t go, she may die.” Sarah tightened the grip on his arm. “Oh, Clay, haven’t there already been too many deaths?”

Though she did not pronounce the words, Clay knew she was thinking of Austin. So was he. The difference was, Austin’s death was the reason Clay would not help Leah Dunn or anyone in this miserable town.

“Please, Clay. Life is precious.” Sarah’s eyes flickered toward the back of the wagon where Thea still slept, as if she feared someone or something would steal her sister’s life.

Clay looked away, unwilling to face the anguish in her eyes, and as he did, he pictured Thea gasping for breath while a man stood at her side, refusing to help. “You’re right.” Allowing Leah Dunn to die would not bring Austin back. Barking commands to Martina, Clay saddled Shadow while the housekeeper retrieved his medical bag. Within minutes, he was racing toward town.

Don’t let me be too late.
Clay punctuated his silent prayer with a mirthless laugh. Why had he bothered? God wasn’t in the habit of answering his prayers.

“Thank God you’re here.” Steven Dunn opened the door before Clay had tied Shadow to the fence. The postmaster’s normally ruddy face was pale and etched with lines of worry.

“What happened?” There was no time for amenities. The two men were practically running as they entered the house. “

Leah was playing with the children, and a ball hit her in the throat.”

Clay shuddered, knowing the damage a direct hit could have inflicted on the trachea. It was no wonder Herman had called for him. If what Clay thought was true, there was only one way to save this woman’s life, and it demanded a steady hand and excellent vision.

Clay strode into the couple’s bedroom, trying not to cringe at the sound of the thin breathing. He needed no examination to tell him how critical the situation was.

“Bring more light, and you’d better boil some water.” Even without the additional lanterns, Clay saw the bluish tint of the woman’s hands. Her pulse was dangerously low, her eyes open but unseeing. Unless he could restore her breathing, Leah Dunn would die within the hour. Clay touched the woman’s throat, feeling the crushed bones. It was nothing short of a miracle that she’d lasted this long.