One Pink Rose; One White Rose; One Red Rose (21 page)

“Did she tear?”

“No, but she sure bled a lot. I don't know if it was more than what's expected. I've never delivered a baby before. I ask her how she's doing, and that seems to embarrass her and she refuses to talk about it.”

The doctor nodded. “If she were in real trouble, she'd tell you for her son's sake. Try to keep her calm, and be real careful about upsetting her. Isabel's a strong woman, but she's vulnerable now. New mothers tend to become emotional, and I don't expect Isabel to be any different. The least little thing might set her off, and she doesn't need to be fretting about anything. Paul Morgan's wife cried for a full month. She plumb drove her husband to distraction worrying about her. The woman cried when she was happy and when she was sad. There wasn't any rhyme or reason to it. Eventually she snapped out of it. Isabel's got more serious problems to deal with. I don't know how I'd stand it if I had Boyle breathing down my neck. I'm sure worried about her son though, coming early like he did, and I know she must be worried too. If the baby makes it, are you planning to stay with our girl until he can be moved?”

“Yes, I'm staying. How long do you think that will be?”

“At least eight weeks, but ten would be even better if he's slow to put on weight. I'm mighty curious about something, son. How'd you manage to get to Isabel's ranch in the first place?”

“It was dark and I was taking the most direct route, using the moonlight to guide me, until it disappeared and the rain started. I almost ran into Boyle's lookouts by accident then. They were so drunk they didn't hear me. I wondered what they were doing hiding out in the rain,” he admitted with a shrug. “But I wasn't curious enough to find out. I'm glad now I didn't stop.”

“It was dangerous riding down the mountain path in the dark.”

“I took my time, walked some of the way, and the light in Isabel's window provided a beacon for me.”

“Are you sure you can get back to her tonight?”

“I'm sure.”

“I wish I were younger and more agile. I'd try to get to Isabel in the dark too, but I don't dare chance it at my age. I was never very good with horses. They scare me,” he admitted. “I've fallen more than I care to recollect. Now I use a buggy, and my wife helps me rig the horses up every morning. Besides, even if I could get there, Boyle might hear about it and then my Trudy would get hurt. No, I can't chance it, but I thank the Lord you came along.”

“You told me there wasn't anything you could do for the baby now,” Douglas reminded him.

“I could be a comfort to Isabel. She's like a daughter to Trudy and me. After Parker died, I asked her to move in with us, but she wouldn't hear of it. She's determined to stand on her own two feet. Trudy pleaded with her to at least stay with us until after the baby was born; then Boyle got wind of our plans and put a stop to it. My wife found a nice little cottage down the road from us, and we wanted Isabel to consider moving in there and raising her baby in Sweet Creek. She'd be as independent as she wanted, yet close enough that we could lend a hand every now and then.”

The doctor's affection for Isabel made Douglas like him all the more. “I'll take good care of her and the baby,” he promised.

“Have you noticed how pretty she is yet?”

Douglas felt like laughing, so absurd was the question. “Yes, I noticed.”

“Then I've got to ask you what your intentions are, son.”

The question blindsided him. “Excuse me?”

“I'm going to be blunt, and I expect I'll rile you. Still, I've got to ask. After she recovers from childbirth, do you plan on dallying with her?”

He'd never heard it put quite that way before. “No.”

Simpson didn't look convinced. He suggested Douglas pour each of them a shot of brandy, waited until he'd given him a glass, and then leaned back in his chair to think about the situation. “It might happen anyway,” he remarked

“I've only known Isabel for—”

Simpson interrupted him. “You just promised me you'd stay with her for ten weeks, remember? You're a man of your word aren't you?”

“Yes, and I will stay, but that doesn't mean I'll . . .”

“Son, let me tell you about a man I happened to run into in River's Bend.”

Douglas could feel his frustration mounting. He didn't want to hear a story now. He wanted to talk about Boyle and get as much information about the man as he could.

The doctor wasn't going to be rushed, if the way he sipped his brandy and stared off into space were any indication. Age gave the older man the benefit of Douglas's attention and respect, and so Douglas leaned against the side of the desk and waited for the tale to be told.

It took Simpson over thirty minutes to tell his story about three couples who got stranded in a snowstorm and stayed together in a miner's shack for the entire winter. By the time the spring thaw came, the six of them had formed what the doctor called an undying friendship. Yet five years later, he happened to meet one of the survivors and asked him several questions. To the doctor's amazement, the gentleman couldn't remember the name of one of the men he'd spent the winter with.

“That's the point of my story,” Simpson said. “Yes, sir, it is. You're going to be living close to Isabel for a long time, and I want you to remember the fella I just told you about. He pledged his friendship, went so far as to call the other two men his brothers, yet once he got on with his life, he plumb forgot about them.”

“I understand,” Douglas said.

“Do you? Isabel has a good heart, and she sure is an easy person to love. It's the future I'm worried about, after you take care of this business with Boyle and go back home. You are going to do something about the tyrant, aren't you?”

Simpson had finally gotten to the topic Douglas wanted to discuss. “It seems I am,” he said. “Tell me what you know about Boyle.”

“I know the man's a monster.” His voice echoed his disgust. “The only reason I'm still breathing is that he thinks he might have need of my services in the future. He's threatened to kill me, but I don't think he'd do it. Doctors are hard to come by in these parts. He'd hurt my Trudy though. Yes, he would.”

“Isabel told me that only a few men in this town have had the courage to stand up to Boyle and that you were one of them. Why won't the others help?”

“Everyone that I know would like to help, but they're afraid. They've seen what happens to those good men who have tried. If one of them so much as whispers about doing something to help Isabel, word gets back to Boyle, and then the instigator gets hurt bad. Both of Wendell Border's hands were broken after he told a couple of men he thought were his friends that he was going to find the U.S. marshal everyone's been hearing glory tales about. The lawman was scouring the territory, looking for some wanted men, but Wendell never got the chance to go hunting for him. Boyle's men got to poor Wendell before he could even leave town. While I was setting his broken hands, I promised him in a whisper that I'd find a way to get help here. I promised him I'd pray too.”

“Were you going to go hunting for the lawman?”

“No, I'm too old and worn out to go hunting for anyone. My Trudy, fortunately, came up with a better idea. Twice a week I go into Liddyville to see patients there. It's only two hours away from Sweet Creek by buggy,” he added. “My wife told me to use the telegraph office there and send wires to all the sheriffs in the territory. She thinks one or two might want to help us. I took it a step further and sent wires to two preachers Wendell told me about and asked them to help with the hunt for the marshal. I still haven't heard back from anyone, but I've got this feeling that if the Texan hears about our trouble, he'll come, especially if he knows a mother with a brand-new baby needs help. Why, he'll drop everything and come running.”

“Why do you think—”

Simpson wouldn't let him finish his question. “If the rumors are true, the marshal accidentally caused some women and children to get killed during a bank robbery in Texas. He didn't know they were inside and being used as shields when he and his men rushed in. From what we've heard about the robbers, they would have killed them anyway, but the marshal still blames himself. Oh, he'll come all right . . . if he hears of our trouble. Sure wish I knew the fella's name. It would make chasing him down easier, I expect.”

“You're looking for Daniel Ryan,” Douglas told him. “My brothers have been searching for him too.” He paused when he heard the creak of the steps behind him. “Did we wake your wife?”

“No, but she's used to snuggling up against me and she must have awakened when she got cold.”

“Would you mind telling her to put the gun down?”

Simpson was astonished. “Do you have eyes in the back of your head? Trudy, put that away and come in here. I want you to meet Isabel's friend. He's promised to help our girl.”

Douglas turned around and nodded to the woman. “I'm sorry I disturbed you and your husband,” he began.

Trudy laid the gun on the desk and rushed forward to shake Douglas's hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong for a woman her size, for the top of her head barely reached his shoulders.

“The doctor and I were praying for a miracle. Looks like we might have gotten one. I know you aren't Marshal Ryan. You're big like we were told he was, but you don't have yellow hair and blue eyes, and our preacher gave us a good description of the lawman so we'd recognize him if he came into town. We pray every Sunday that the dear man will hear of our troubles and come here. Could you be a friend of the marshal's? Did he send you here?”

“No, ma'am, he didn't send me here.”

She couldn't hide her disappointment. “But you're still going to help our little girl?”

Douglas smiled. The Simpsons' affection for Isabel pleased him. God only knew, she needed good friends now, and it was nice to know she had two champions in Sweet Creek trying to look out for her.

“Yes, I'm going to help her.”

She squeezed his hand before she let go. “Doctor, I expect I'll go into the kitchen now.” She waited until her husband nodded agreement before she looked at Douglas again. “You won't be leaving until I've packed some leftovers for you to take.”

“You'll have to work in the dark, Trudy,” her husband told her.

“I expect I'll manage. I'll light a candle and put it in the hallway. No one can see inside, doctor.”

“Ma'am, I really should be heading back to Isabel.”

She shook her head at him and left the library in a near run.

Simpson chuckled. “You might as well relax, son. Trudy isn't going to let you leave without a bag full of her home cooking. Sit on down in a chair, proper like, and tell me why your brothers have been searching for the Texan. Do you have troubles where you come from that need the law?”

“No,” Douglas answered. “Ryan helped one of my brothers. The fact is, he saved Travis's life.”

“So you're wanting to thank him.”

“Yes, but also get back a compass he . . . borrowed.”

“Now, that sounds like a mighty curious tale.”

“I'll tell you all about it some other time,” Douglas promised. “When I was coming here, I noticed your town has a wire service, and I was wondering why you had to go to Liddyville to send your telegrams.”

“The only way you could have seen the telegraph office is if you'd been inside the general store. It's in the back room. Why'd you go in there?”

“To get some supplies.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“No.”

“Good,” Simpson whispered. “You broke in, didn't you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you snap the lock or break a window?”

Douglas was a bit insulted by the question. “No, of course not. Cooper won't know I was there unless he does a close inventory.”

Simpson was grinning with pleasure. “I hope you robbed Vernon Cooper blind. His brother, Jasper, runs the wire office, and both the scoundrels are in Boyle's back pocket. No one in Sweet Creek dares send a wire from here unless they want Boyle to know about it, and that's why I used the wire service in Liddyville. Just on principle Trudy and I get all our supplies there too. We'd rather go without than give either one of the Coopers our hard-earned money.”

“If Ryan were to show up and arrest Boyle, would the man whose hands were broken testify against him?”

Simpson shook his head. “I expect Ryan will have to find another way to get rid of Boyle,” he said, “or run his henchmen out of town first. Wendell's too scared to testify. He's got a wife and two young daughters. He doesn't dare say a word against Boyle, or his family will pay the consequences. The poor man. He's got crops that will be ready to harvest in a couple of weeks, and with broken hands he's going to have to watch them rot.”

“Won't some of the town help him?”

“They're afraid to do anything that might make Boyle mad.”

“Why does he want Isabel's land?”

“He's telling everyone he wants to put his cattle there to graze. He has a lot of land surrounding his ranch house, but he rents that out to some foreigners who buy cattle down in Texas and have them brought up to his land to fatten up. Boyle's made a fortune over the last fifteen years, but he's greedy, and he wants more.”

“If he wants to use Isabel's land, why doesn't he do it? She couldn't stop him, and he has to know that.”

“He doesn't just want her land, son, he wants her too. He's real blatant about letting everyone know she's going to belong to him. Why, he struts around town like a fat rooster inviting people to the wedding. Folks say he started lusting after her the second he saw her.”

“Why is he waiting? He could force her to marry him now.”