Eight

Cole toyed with his glass. He wasn’t much of a drinker. Never had been. Never believed in drowning one’s sorrows in a bottle. Tonight he was tempted to try.

The major sat across from him, rolling a cigarette with the precise movements of a safecracker. With his stern face and military stance, he hardly looked like he belonged in the rowdy saloon, let alone the feisty town. Even the good-time gals avoided their corner table.

A group of men clapped to the tune of the foot-stomping fiddle music. In one corner, a noisy faro game was in progress. But the loudest sounds of all were the voices in Cole’s head.

How can I make her believe that I meant what I said about never leaving?

No matter how many times he’d rephrased the question, the answer echoing back was always the same. You can’t.

Major Comstock said something, yanking Cole away from his thoughts. “I’m sorry.”

“I said, you’ve hardly spoken a word since we left the farm.” The major slid the pouch of tobacco into his coat pocket and licked the edge of the rolling paper. “You haven’t even asked about the plan for capturing the Carpenters.”

“Figured you’d tell me when the time was right.”

The major finished rolling his cigarette. “I’ve known you a long time. Ever since you were wet behind the ears and showed up at headquarters, demanding to join the Rangers.”

Cole studied his commanding officer. “Why do I get the feeling this is leading to something?”

The major shrugged and continued, “You were a bright kid. Passionate. After talking to you I was convinced you would give heart and soul to the Rangers. To fighting crime. Turns out I was right.” Comstock stuck the cigarette in his mouth and reached in his pocket for a box of safety matches. After lighting his cigarette, he took a long drag and blew out a stream of smoke. “The question is, will you still give me all you’ve got?”

Cole stared at him. “Why are you asking this of me?”

“I’m no fool. I saw how you looked at her. How she looked at you.” The major leaned forward. “When you stayed away for weeks, I worried that you were more injured than you’d let on. That’s why I came here. I wanted to see for myself that you were well enough to work again. Now I know that it was no bullet wound keeping you away. It was Cupid’s arrow.”

“That obvious, eh?”

Comstock shrugged. “I may be an old bird, but I remember how it felt to be in love. Believe it or not, I was once in your shoes.” After a long pause, he added, “I chose the Rangers.”

“Any regrets?”

“There’re always regrets. You just have to choose the ones you can live with.” Sitting back in his chair, the major took another puff and blew a smoke ring.

“She won’t even let me make the choice.” Cole stared into his drink. “She lost a father and husband in the line of duty. She refuses to get involved with another ranger.”

The major flicked ash on the sawdust floor. “Can’t blame her for that.”

“I offered to hang up my spurs, but it did no good. She believes that once a man’s a ranger, he’s always a ranger and can’t stay put. At least not for long.”

Cole took a quick swallow of his drink. The whisky burned his throat, reminding him why he normally avoided the stuff. Why he should have avoided the thing called love.

Elbows on the table, he held his head in his hands. No matter how many times he’d sworn not to leave, he still couldn’t make her believe him. Oh, God, there must be a way, but how?

He scrubbed his hands over his face and stared at the wall. A sign read Troublemakers Will Be Asked to Leave.

Just as he drew his gaze away from the sign, an idea popped into his head. A surge of excitement rushed through him. Would it work? Would she believe him then? Maybe, maybe not. All he knew was that he had to try.

* * *

It was dark when Sadie woke to Adam’s frantic cries. She rolled off the bed and lit the lamp before rushing to her son’s side. He was burning up with fever.

Taking a deep breath, she willed herself not to panic. She raced to the dry sink and poured water from the pitcher onto a washrag. She sponged off his face and legs and arms, but the fever persisted, as did his croaky cough. Even more worrisome, his lips were tinged blue and he had trouble breathing.

Oh, God, Cole. Tears sprang to her eyes. Never had she needed anyone as much as she needed Cole at that moment. If only you were here. You would know what to do.

She glanced at the clock. It was after 9:00 p.m. but she didn’t dare wait till morning before taking Adam to the doctor.

Leaving Adam in his cradle, she grabbed an armload of blankets and pillows and dashed outside to the barn. After making Adam a soft bed in the back of the wagon, she quickly hitched the wagon to her horse.

Less than twenty minutes later, she was on the road leading to town. Fortunately, there was a full moon to light the way. Though it was cool, the night air was still—eerily so. Even the wolves were silent.

The movement of the wagon seemed to have a calming effect on Adam, as he’d grown quiet. Her relief was short-lived, however, as a terrifying thought crossed her mind. What if he had stopped breathing?

With a frantic tug on the reins, she set the brake. Jumping to the ground, she froze. The memory of finding her grandfather dead in his bed flashed though her head. He had been so still, so cold. Now, as she froze, petrified, on the side of that lonely road, it was as if the very earth had stopped turning.

Shaking away her inertia, she crept to the back of the wagon. The sound of Adam’s breathing made her cling to the side of the wagon in relief. The rattling in Adam’s chest worried her, but nonetheless offered a measure of comfort.

The drive to town took the best part of an hour, mainly because she kept stopping to check on him. Banjo music, laughter, and occasional gunfire greeted her as she turned down Main. It was Saturday night and the saloons were packed.

Dr. Stybeck’s office was on the corner of Eighth and Main across from a noisy saloon. He lived on the second floor of his office with his wife.

Sadie pulled her horse and wagon to the side of the road. Setting her brake, she jumped to the ground. Three horsemen galloped by. Dogs barked, a horse neighed. Two men exited the saloon across the street. One of the men was so drunk, he couldn’t walk without help.

Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she reached into the back of the wagon and lifted Adam into her arms. He was still burning with fever and hardly stirred. Oh, God. Please don’t let him die. She was so focused on Adam, she almost missed the familiar voice wafting from across the street. Her heart jolted. Was that…?

She turned to give the two men a second look in the yellow glow of the streetlight.

It was Cole, all right, singing at the top of his lungs. He was drunker than a sow in a peach orchard, and if it weren’t for the major, he’d have been flat on his face.

Eyes burning, Sadie watched the major struggle to keep Cole upright. Tonight when she most needed him, Cole was in no condition to help even himself.

Turning away in dismay, she carried her son up the steps to the boardwalk and jabbed the doctor’s night bell.

* * *

“Is it pneumonia?” Sadie whispered, the mere thought striking terror in her heart.

Dr. Stybeck pulled his monaural stethoscope away from her son’s chest. “Croup,” he said.

She frowned. “Is it serious?”

“Can be.” He applied a poultice to Adam’s chest and covered it with a cloth. “I think we caught it in time.” He called to his wife. “We need steam.”

Moments later, Mrs. Stybeck entered the room carrying a hot teakettle. Wearing a gingham apron and a knitted yarn snood over her gray hair, she moved with a quiet efficiency that could only have come from years of practice.

“Here we go,” she said, arranging the kettle in such a way that the steam flowed directly on Adam.

The doctor nodded with approval. “That’ll help him breathe.”

Both he and his wife insisted Sadie stay the night. “We’ll see how Adam is in the morning,” the doctor said.

With Adam in her arms, she followed the doctor’s wife to the living quarters upstairs. “Your little fellow is breathing better already,” Mrs. Stybeck said. “If you need the doctor in the night, just ring the bell by the side of the bed.”

Sadie smiled in gratitude. “Thank you.”

The guest room was small but comfortable and Sadie fell onto the bed, exhausted, Adam by her side. Sleep, however, escaped her.

Between Adam’s raspy breaths and the noise outside her window, she was too tense to sleep. Fiddle music wafted from the saloon across the street till the wee hours of the morning. It was well after two when a group of raucous cowboys barreled down Main on horseback, whooping and hollering and firing pistols in the air.

But worse than the mayhem outside was the memory of Cole falling down drunk.

I’ll always be there for you.

Thumping her pillow with her fist, she shuddered to think how close she’d been to asking him to stay.

I’ll always be there for you.

“Oh, Cole,” she sobbed. The tears spilling onto the pillow carried pieces of her broken heart. I needed you tonight and you weren’t there. How can I trust that you’d be there in the future?