Tall, Dark, and Texan (11 page)

Charlie, the blacksmith, rode just behind Teagen. He yelled that they were here to help. The woman started to cry louder, and the city fellow yelled, “Praise the Lord.”

Ignoring them, Teagen jumped from his horse. “Sage!” he yelled loud enough to spook the horses. “Sage!”

“What?” came an answer from behind the stagecoach.

Teagen watched as his little sister stepped into the open. She raised one bloody hand and shoved her hair away from her eyes with her wrist. Her dress was covered in dirt and blood. His heart stopped. She took one look at him and smiled, kicking it back into action.

“Thank God, Teagen, you’re here. I’ve got two outlaws dead and the driver wounded bad.”

He walked toward her. “Are you hurt?” He brushed the blood off her forehead.

“No. But we need to get these people to town. The driver may die if I don’t get that bullet out and the bleeding stopped. Help me get the wound wrapped tight.” She lifted her skirt and ripped away a section of her petticoat.

Teagen shouted for the others to right the stagecoach.

He followed her and saw why she was having so much trouble. The driver outweighed her three times over. Teagen lifted him off the ground as Sage wrapped a gaping wound in the center of his chest.

“Where’s the man riding shotgun?” Teagen asked as they worked. He knew it wouldn’t be the dandy quoting scripture from the other side of the road.

“They shot him first,” Sage answered. “I saw him fall about half a mile back. If the bullets didn’t kill him, the fall probably did.”

Teagen heard the stage rock back onto its wheels, and the others began to hook up the team as Sage finished with the bandage.

He shouted for help to lift the wounded driver into the coach.

Sage followed, giving them orders to be careful.

“The woman over there is in shock, I think, and the preacher, her son, never had to face anything like this. They’re from back East.”

“He’s wounded,” Teagen commented.

The Yankee stared up at the rain now as if each drop fell just to bother him.

“I know. He hit his head getting out of the coach.”

Teagen looked around as she continued, “They came at us from the front. Hit the shotgun rider first, then the driver. I killed two before the rest backed away. The horses were running wild and tried to make this curve too fast.”

The young preacher walked in their direction. He must have decided Teagen was the head of the rescue team since he rode in first. The thin man removed his hat and explained, “They were ordering us to stop, sir. Maybe if we had, they would have simply taken our money and left.” He pointed at Sage. “But this woman pulled a gun and started shooting.”

Teagen didn’t like the preacher, but he explained, “If you would have stopped and stepped out of the stage unarmed, all of you would be dead right now. Who does the boy who rode in to tell us about the attack belong to?”

Sage answered as she climbed into the coach with the wounded man. “His folks have a place not far from here. They heard the shots and sent him to check. He wanted to go get his ma, but I told him to ride for town. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the bandits decided to turn around and try again. If his folks had come, it might have only meant more people hurt or killed.”

“Are you out of lead?” Teagen knew the answer. If she hadn’t been, there would have been more bodies on the ground.

She nodded. “I wasn’t traveling as well-armed as I should have been.”

“And you?” Teagen looked at the preacher.

“I don’t carry a gun,” he answered. “And neither does my mother.”

The men from town were saddling up. A few headed farther down the road to look for the guard; the rest flanked the stage.

“Can you drive this stage?” Teagen asked.

“No,” the preacher answered.

“Then get your mother and climb in.” Teagen tied his mount to the back. “And hold on. It’s going to be a fast ride.”

He glanced in at his sister, sitting on the floor of the stage with the driver’s head in her lap. “You ready?” he asked.

“Get us to town, Teagen.”

He climbed up and took the set of six reins between his fingers. With a pop of leather, they were off. He took care but rarely slowed. Teagen knew how to drive a team, and he had also ridden in enough coaches to know that the rocking motion wouldn’t change all that much from one speed to another.

When he pulled up to the trading post, Elmo directed him to the hotel. There, several men helped unload the driver onto a table in the parlor. Sage took over. She’d delivered enough babies in the area that most folks knew having her around was as good as having a doctor. Some said she got her gift from her Indian blood, but right now no one seemed to care; they were just ready to help.

Teagen walked the stage to the barn and turned it over to one of the hands, then headed back to the trading post. His wagon was still out front, but he saw no sign of Jessie. Or anyone else. Everyone in town seemed to be standing in front of the hotel talking about what had just happened. When Teagen approached, he heard Charlie saying, “That McMurray girl saved all their lives. There’s no telling how many of them she shot. We found two bodies.”

Teagen passed through the crowd looking for Jessie. He overheard one man say that the ground was covered in blood. Another said they’d all be dead if it hadn’t been for Sage McMurray.

He spotted Elmo. “Anderson, you know what happened to the little widow I left in your care?”

The old man nodded. “The last time I saw her, she was carrying in supplies to Sage.”

Teagen moved to the entrance. He told himself he just needed to check on Jessie to make sure she was fine, but he knew it was more. After seeing all the blood, he knew the sight of her would calm him.

Before he could reach the door, men rode in with the guard who’d served as shotgun rider.

“He’s alive!” one shouted as several men gathered around to lift the wounded man down.

“Get him inside,” another hollered.

Teagen found himself backing to the edge of the porch to make room. The bad news was, ten men stood between him and the entrance. The good news was, he could see the street. If Jessie were anywhere besides inside the hotel, he’d see her.

“How’s Sage?” A low voice came from below Teagen, just off the porch.

He looked down to see Drummond Roak standing at the corner of the hotel.

“Fine, Roak. What are you doing here?”

“Came to check on my girl.”

Teagen almost laughed. “She’s not your girl.”

“I know, but she will be.” Roak flicked a chip from the piece of wood he whittled. “Was she hurt? I heard one guy say she had blood all over her.”

“No. It wasn’t her blood. She’s trying to help the driver, but I don’t think there’s much hope. He had a bullet in his chest.” Teagen watched from the livery to the trading post. No little widow.

“She stopped the attack,” Drum interrupted.

“That’s what I hear.” He glanced down, but the wild kid was gone. “Nice talking to you, Roak,” Teagen said to no one.

FOR TWO HOURS JESSIE STOOD NEXT TO SAGE AND OFFERED any help she could. She’d taken care of little scrapes and even sewed a few stitches, but nothing like what Sage McMurray was doing to the man who lay still as stone on the table. The girl couldn’t have been a year out of her teens, but she knew what she was doing. Her hands were steady and her voice calm as she talked her way through each step as if reciting a lesson learned from a book.

Another man, in no better shape, lay a few feet away. The barber and what looked like a dance hall girl worked on him. Their voices were loud and broken with swear words. Their patient died within minutes, but he left most of his blood behind. The barber yelled for someone to come in and take the body to the undertaker, then he said he’d had enough blood for one day and left. The dance hall girl agreed with the barber and didn’t stay around, though she did turn a curtsy in Sage’s direction at the door as if she thought it proper.

Sage smiled at her but didn’t ask the girl to stay. Then her eyes met Jessie’s, and she knew what Sage silently asked.

“I’ll stay,” Jessie answered. “Just tell me what I need to do to help.”

Sage nodded and went back to work.

Blood made the floor slippery but Jessie couldn’t leave Sage alone, so she stayed, offering what help she could.

The hotel manager had given them both huge aprons, or their clothes would have been a complete mess. They hadn’t talked of anything except trying to save a life, but Jessie felt like they’d bonded. She already knew she liked Sage just from the way Martha and Teagen talked about her, but she also saw why they loved her so much. Where Jessie was shy and always hesitated, Sage stepped in like a general ready for action. There was something about her that drew all around her.

When Jessie could think of no other way to help, she washed blood away until her hands chapped.

“A few more stitches, and we’ll have him patched up,” Sage said, the exhaustion filtering into her voice.

Jessie ran her hand along the driver’s arm. At first it had been hot, then clammy, and now cold. He hadn’t made a move in twenty minutes.

She felt for a pulse at his throat. Nothing.

“Sage,” Jessie whispered, “I think he’s dead.”

“No,” Sage snapped. “He’s lost a lot of blood. His breathing is just real shallow. He’s fainted.” She began wrapping the wound.

Jessie opened one glassy eye. She’d seen death’s stare in both her parents’ faces and knew it well. “No. He’s dead.”

Sage kept wrapping, refusing to admit defeat. “He lived through the fall. He’ll live through being shot.” If determination could have kept him alive, Teagen’s sister would have saved the man.

Jessie watched Sage fight for a life that was already lost. The girl moved faster and faster as if racing death. Finally, she slowed and gulped in air as if she’d finished a long run.

Taking her hand, Jessie forced Sage to face her. “He’s gone. There’s nothing else we can do.”

Sage looked very young. She took another deep breath and nodded. “I know. I thought if I didn’t admit it that it wouldn’t be true.” She took off her apron and covered his face so gently it almost made Jessie cry.

Jessie hugged her. “You did your best.”

Sage stiffened. “I know, but this time it wasn’t enough. I’ll go tell the others.” She pulled away and walked toward the front of the hotel.

Jessie didn’t want to see the faces outside. Washing her hands one more time in the cold water, she fought down sobs. She turned and ran out the side door, needing to breathe air that didn’t smell like blood.

When she stepped outside, she saw Teagen’s rig parked in the shadow of an old cottonwood near a barn. Gentle rain didn’t give her pause as she ran across the muddy street to the tree. The dark clouds made the world seem in twilight.

She was almost to Teagen’s wagon when someone caught her from behind.

For a second she fought, then she heard his rough voice whisper, “Jessie, it’s me.”

She collapsed into the solid feel of Teagen and let the tears she hadn’t had time to cry fall.

He held her firmly against him, so tight she could feel his heart pounding next to her own. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Jessie buried her face beneath his chin. She needed to feel someone alive. She needed to know that a part of her didn’t die on that table in the hotel. And Teagen was there just as he’d always been in her dreams. A hundred times over the years she’d clutched his letters and wished he’d hold her as he was holding her now.

Slowly, the tears stopped, and her breathing grew normal. The comforting smell of him calmed her, erasing the taste of blood in her throat. The warmth of him passed through their clothes and eased the muscles she’d held in check for hours.

His big hand cupped the back of her head as she pulled away enough to look at him. “Jessie,” he asked. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, liking the feel of him touching her. “I’m fine, but the man died. Sage fought so hard to save him.”

“No one expected him to live. You and Sage did the best you could do to try.”

“Sage said it wasn’t good enough,” Jessie whispered, rubbing her cheek against his chin. “If I’d known more, maybe I could have been more help.”

His arm at her waist tightened. “You did your best. I’m proud of you.”

She gulped back a cry. No one had said they were proud of her in so many years she’d forgotten how a simple compliment could make her feel.

His hand at the small of her back moved up along her spine, and she relaxed with each stroke. Her body pressed closer into the wall of him. She felt herself melting into him.

“Jessie,” he whispered against her ear as he lifted her off the ground in his hug. “Jessie, don’t cry.”

She thought of all the losses in her life. Her mother and father, Eli, her home, and then the bookstore. Through it all no one had been there to hold her, to give her something as simple as a hug.

When he lowered her down, she pulled an inch away. “Thank you,” she managed.

“For what?” he said, his hand still stroking her back.

“For being here when I needed someone.”

He didn’t comment. With his hands at her waist, he gently lifted her onto the bench of the wagon. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll go see if I can find Sage.”

She nodded and watched him walk away. The feel of his hands were still on her body, and she breathed in the scent of him with each breath. He’d done nothing to welcome her nearness, but she had a desire deep down inside herself to be close to him. Maybe she’d had it from the first time she’d read his letters; maybe it came when they met. She didn’t know. But the ache was something basic. Something she’d never felt before.

Jessie closed her eyes and sat perfectly still. The old tree sheltered her from the rain, but the wind carried the cool moisture to her hot cheeks. She relaxed and let her mind drift on the breeze without any real thought.