Two

Before she pulled around the mercantile to her home, Sidalee glanced toward headquarters—the big stone house and ranch office that belonged to Stoker Legend. But she spied no one, not even one cowboy. The weather evidently had the rancher and all the hands indoors by the fire. She’d have to unload the stranger by herself.

She chewed her lip and maneuvered the buckboard as close as she could get to the door. After pulling, grunting, and dragging, she got the man into the modest dwelling but had no strength left to get him off the floor of the small parlor. He’d have to lie there for now.

The collie rushed in barking before she shut the door.

Sidalee ran into the bedroom and yanked her quilt off the bed, tucking it around the lanky stranger. All the exertion had worn her out, but she couldn’t rest yet. She threw several logs into the low blaze in the fireplace, then stoked the cookstove to add additional heat.

A glance out the window showed darkness falling. Soon it would be blacker than pitch. The snow had started to lessen some, however, and that was good news.

Now that she’d done all she could for the stranger at the moment, she trudged through the snow to Doc Jenkins’s house and rapped on the door. Surprise lit his face to find her in the circle of his lantern light.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Doc, but I need you bad.” She explained about the stranger and added, “Come quick.”

The doctor nodded and got his coat, bag, hat, and cane. Jenkins was a dapper man who dressed in three-piece suits like the important people of Fort Worth. It seemed to make no nevermind to him that he lived on a huge ranch in the middle of nowhere. He closed his door and hung his cane on his arm. No one had ever seen him use the cane. Just liked carrying it, she guessed. He was a good man of medicine, though, and often sat all night with his patients, so she supposed his fine airs didn’t do anyone harm.

“Where exactly did you find this stranger?” Doc helped her across a snowdrift.

“I had delivered some food to…uh, someone, and was coming back. It was about half a mile from here.” She’d almost messed up and mentioned Miss Mamie. She had to be more careful. “I noticed the dog first. He led me to the man. I’m not sure exactly how long he’d lain there. A good bit of snow had covered him.”

“It was quite fortunate for him that you were out, or he would’ve died.” He scowled at Sidalee. “I don’t hold with you traipsing out across the ranch in this weather, though. You should’ve gotten someone to go with you. Or sent a cowboy to deliver the food.”

Sidalee was saved having to reply when they reached her door. The minute she turned the knob, the doctor rushed in and knelt beside the stranger. She watched him take his temperature and listen to his heart.

“I need to get him off this floor, Sidalee.” He glanced up. “If you’ll run and get Jonas Harper from the blacksmith shop, he’ll help me get this man onto a bed. I don’t know how you got him this far, to tell the truth.”

“I’m stronger than I look, Doc,” she said softly. Sometimes a person had to find a way to achieve the impossible. She couldn’t leave him out in the cold. One more second could’ve made the difference between living and dying.

She wound the wool scarf back around her neck and pulled on her gloves. “I have more blankets in the bedroom. Want me to put the hot-water kettle on to heat?”

“I’ll do that and put some bricks in the oven to heat. Just go after Jonas.”

Sidalee’s breath lodged in her chest as she ran down the road to the blacksmith shop. She caught Jonas as he was leaving and told him Doc needed him. The man probably weighed three hundred pounds and stood six-feet-six. Jonas’s arms were almost bigger around than her waist.

Back at the house, Jonas lifted the stranger and carried him into the bedroom. Sidalee waited in the kitchen while they undressed their patient and got him under the covers.

Thoughts turned to the man she’d found. That threadbare coat he wore probably told the story. Everything the stranger had on him and in his saddlebags could be all he owned. Where did he live? She wondered if someone was expecting him to come home. Or…maybe this could be Miss Mamie’s son. How wonderful, if that were true. Christmas was sad when families couldn’t be together. This holiday was special and meant sharing, giving, and not being so very alone.

A few minutes later, the blacksmith came out, interrupting her thoughts. “Doc’s working on that fella. I have to get home to the missus.” He paused. “If you need anything, let me know. And I’ll take those horses out there to the barn. I’m sure they’re freezing.”

“Yes, the poor things have to be. Jonas, you’re a good man for doing that. Thank you. I didn’t want to leave until I was sure Doc wouldn’t need me.”

“Yes, ma’am. Happy to do it. I’ll give them some oats and brush them down.” Jonas opened the door and stepped out.

Frigid air swirled into the room. Sidalee clutched her wool shawl closer and fixed a cup of hot tea for herself while she waited for the doctor to finish his examination. Thinking of supper, she put on the bean soup to warm.

She wondered how soon the man would be able to swallow some. That would thaw him out. And if he hadn’t roused, Doc could do with a bowlful himself. He had no wife at home.

The rock Miss Mamie had given her crossed her memory. She took it from her pocket. The grayish-black stone looked just like the others the old woman had given her—rough and ugly. It appeared the kind you could find scattered anywhere across the prairieland, but if Miss Mamie thought it was worth keeping, so would Sidalee. She got down the tin box that held all the others and added the new one to the stash. Lord, they were ugly.

Strange how the woman needed to give her something for her kindness.

Doc Jenkins called, asking for a hot-water bag. She filled one and took it into the bedroom along with the heated bricks. “How is he?”

Doc tucked the hot-water bag at the man’s feet, then wrapped the bricks in a light blanket and placed them along each leg. “I don’t think he lost any fingers or toes, but he was close. I’ll know more once I get his temperature to come up. He must have a guardian angel that led you to find him.”

“His guardian angel’s his dog.” She glanced at the pooch lying next to his master, his head on the man’s chest. “That dog wasn’t going to give up until I followed him.”

Doc scratched the dog behind the ears and was rewarded with a lick. “I’ve heard of dogs doing this when they’re devoted to their owners. He’s a pretty thing, and you can see love amid the worry in his eyes when he looks at his master.”

“I wonder who he is—the man, not the dog.” Sidalee stepped closer to look at him.

His midnight hair wasn’t overlong and spoke of taking pride in his appearance. The stubble that darkened his jawline said he’d shaved in the last two days. High cheekbones and the dark lashes laying against his ashen face made his features handsome. She couldn’t help but wonder about the color of his eyes. Would they be green, brown, blue, gray, or black like his hair?

“I know this is an inconvenience, but I don’t want to take him back into the cold.” Doc laid a hand on her shoulder. “I will, though, if you say the word. We don’t know who he is or where he’s from. He could be dangerous.”

Again the thought hit her that he could be an outlaw.

Sidalee dragged her gaze away from the stranger and gave Jenkins a smile. “No, please. He’s fine where he is. I don’t mind one bit. I’ll watch over him and keep heating the bricks.”

“When he wakes up, he may be confused. I don’t want to put you at risk.”

“You’re not.” She shifted her gaze back to the sleeping man. Something told her he wouldn’t be angry or violent. She sensed a gentle spirit inside him. “I made a nice pot of bean soup. Either that or hot broth will be good for him when he wakes.”

“I smelled that soup when I walked in.” Doc’s eyes twinkled. “It’s my favorite, you know. Maybe it’s his too.”

“Then I’ll dip you out some. It’s nice and hot.”

“Those, my dear, are words from heaven.”

“I’ll feed the dog too, if he’ll come.” She called to the faithful pooch, and it took a good bit of coaxing to get him to leave his master’s side.

With the dog eating leftover boiled chicken from a bowl, they sat at the table in the warm kitchen. While they ate, she asked Doc where he was from.

“San Francisco. I lived there many years, but one day I woke up and couldn’t take the ground shaking any longer and came to Texas.” He reached for another slice of corn bread.

Sidalee laid down her spoon. “Do you mind if I ask a question?”

“Not at all.”

“Why do you carry that cane around all the time and never use it?”

Doc laughed and winked. “It goes with my suit, of course. I rather think it makes me look smarter. And rich.”

She suspected he was pulling her leg. Her reply was soft. “You don’t need a prop, Doc. You’re the real thing. Anyone can see that.”

“Bless you, child.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “This soup and corn bread hit the spot. I don’t think I’ve eaten better.”

The border collie licked the bowl clean and padded back to his spot on the bed. The dog had such sad brown eyes.

“It’s nice to share a meal,” Sidalee said. “Gets lonely sometimes.” For herself. For Miss Mamie. Maybe for the stranger too.

Doc pushed back his chair and went to check on their patient, buried under a mountain of blankets and quilts. Sidalee stood next to Jenkins as he listened to the man’s chest and checked his breathing.

Finally, he stood and put his instruments back into his black bag. “I think we’ll see him come around by morning. His chest is clear and his heart is strong. Refill the hot-water bag at his feet in a bit and through the night, if you’re awake.”

“I won’t sleep,” she announced firmly. Sleep wasn’t important when a life was at stake. This man would live, if she had anything to say about it. Christmas was coming and the stranger was going to see it.

The doctor bundled up and collected his bag. With his cane looped over his arm, he went out into the cold. She made quick work of cleaning up. She couldn’t stand mess and clutter, something she got from her mama. Their house stood ready for unexpected company at any given time—from the stocked larder to the beds. No one left the Kings’ house hungry or cold. Nothing replaced family.

Unshed tears filled her eyes. How she missed her sweet mama’s hugs.

Blinking hard, she went to the bedroom for the hot water bottle and refilled it. She couldn’t wait for him to wake up so she could find out if he was Miss Mamie’s George. The woman would be so happy. After tucking the warmth again at his feet, Sidalee went to the man’s clothes and hat lying on the floor, hoping to find something to indicate who he was. The pitiful coat lay on top. She lifted it up and her chest tightened at how thin the fabric was in places. Someone had patched it numerous times, but even those had frayed.

Surprisingly, his shirt and trousers were clean, although they too were well-worn. His gun belt rested nearby with the big revolver in the holster. Doc had wrapped the belt around the gun into one tight bundle. She picked it up and put it in a drawer. Guns scared the daylights out of her. With it hidden away, she felt safer.

Sidalee glanced at the drifter. What had he been through? The clothes told a story of hardship. What had happened to him?

Everything was sodden from the melting snow. She carried his clothes to the kitchen and spread them out to dry before drifting back. The dog raised his head at her return, looking at her with curious eyes as she sat next to the bed. He chuffed once, then stretched out beside the stranger.

The hours passed slowly. She worried about Miss Mamie, wondering if the woman was warm enough. She’d bake an apple cake in the morning to take when she went to check on her.

But of course, that would depend on the man in her bed.

She pulled her wool shawl around her shoulders and stood to feel his forehead and cheeks. He was warming up nicely and the pink color confirmed it. His legs moved as though he was coming around. His eyes fluttered a few times, but still he slept.

While she watched, he drew his hand from under the covers. His long, slender fingers rested on top, but they constantly moved as though tapping out something. Very odd.

Midnight neared when she leaned over him again to adjust the covers up around his neck. His eyes flew open and he stared at her with alarm. Sidalee jumped back, her heart almost leaping from her chest. But she quickly collected herself and gave him a cheerful smile. “I’m glad you woke up. I’m Sidalee King. I’m sure you’re wondering where you are. I found you in the snow, loaded you in my wagon, and brought you to my home. You were in bad shape. Doc came and, once we knew you were going to make it, left you in my care.”

“Thought I was dreaming,” he rasped.

“Not this time. You’re safe and warm now.”

His brows pinched together. “What town?”

“Not exactly a town. You’re on the Lone Star Ranch. Stoker Legend built a small town here for the ranch hands and their families, since it’s too far to the nearest town of any size for them.” Light from the oil lamp beside the bed shone on his face. Sidalee thought he had the most arresting eyes she’d ever seen—gray with a dark outer edge around the rim. They left her strangely flustered as they followed her.

“Where are you from?” She handed him a cup of water, ignoring the flutter in her stomach.

“Nowhere.”

“Were you coming to the Lone Star, Mister…?”

“Destry. Hank Destry. And no. I’m headed no place.”

Sharp disappointment ran through her. He wasn’t Miss Mamie’s son.

Then his eyes met hers and she saw the pain this threadbare man tried to hide, heard the bleak tone of his voice, felt his despair seep into her. She understood the obvious.

Hank Destry had no hope.

No future.

No life.