WM02 - Texas Princess (21 page)

Smiling, Sage decided Miss Liberty looked very much like she belonged at Whispering Mountain. The senator’s daughter had gone along with her plan the moment she heard about it. It had been hard on them both to wait until they knew Tobin was wel away.

Sage had a feeling Liberty rarely hesitated.

Like two thieves in the night, the women slipped out the back door of the house and moved toward the barn, their arms loaded down with supplies, buckets of water, and the medicine box.

Sage almost giggled. She couldn’t believe she’d talked Liberty Mayeld, their houseguest, into col aborating with her. But Sage had to act fast before Tobin got back from delivering Stel a to town, and she needed someone to serve as her guard.

They moved into the barn and turned up the rst lantern.

“Know which stal the Roak is in?” Sage whispered.

“The rst,” Liberty answered.

They crossed like two children approaching a caged bear.

“I just want to check him out. If he did that much damage to Teagen, he’s bound to be hurt. I could never sleep thinking of him out here bleeding.” Sage opened the stal door, reecting that her need to take care of people would probably get her kil ed one day. “I wouldn’t let an animal suffer and I can’t see letting a Roak.”

Liberty set down her load and pul ed out her gun. “I know my part.” She didn’t bother to lower her voice. In fact, she seemed to be talking more loudly than usual. “I’l shoot if he makes a move toward you. So if he knows what’s good for him, he’l lie stil and let you doctor him because I’m already nervous and everyone knows nerves make a trigger nger jumpy.”

Sage nodded, ghting down laughter. Liberty was going to be a ne guard. She could hardly wait to tel her brothers.

They moved both barn lanterns into the stal . A boy, not much tal er than Sage, sat tied up in the center of the back wal . His hands were bound and then tied to the rail above his head. His feet were pul ed straight out in front of him so that he couldn’t kick at them.

“He looks uncomfortable,” Liberty whispered.

“We’re not untying a single rope. We’re just here to check him.” She knelt down beside the boy while Liberty took her post at his feet.

The boy’s eyes were wide open and he watched them with a mixture of fear and rage.

The only clean spot on him was the white of the gag cutting into either side of his mouth. The rest of him looked like he’d been dragged through the mud everyday since birth. His rag clothes hung on his thin frame and his shoes were more moccasin than boot.

“I’m not going to hurt you, boy,” Sage said. “I just want to doctor you.”

He shook his head and tried to mumble something around the gag. His lean body jerked against the ropes like an animal ghting for life.

Sage wasn’t surprised by his fear. In the back country where people lived like wolves, doctoring, if there was any, was crude and often deadly. She could make a pretty good guess at what this boy’s life had been. His mother was probably one of the prostitutes who ran with the outlaw gang. She’d look forty at twenty and only cared for any child she bore when sober. Sage had seen the likes of them at the trading post a few times.

They were always dirty and unkempt with kids fol owing after them like pups.

Somehow this boy had survived long enough around camp to make himself useful or, Sage guessed, he would have been starved out. His dark hair was blocked off at his col ar as if someone had cut it with one whack. His clothes were crude linsey-woolsey and made by someone with little skil . Judging from the scars she could see on his face, neck, and hands, he was no stranger to ghting, or maybe beatings.

She lay her hand on his arm. “I’m not going to hurt you. I only want to see if you’re injured.”

He watched her like a wild animal.

Sage moved her hand down his arm. His frame seemed made of bone and rawhide.

She crossed to the other arm. No broken bones. Teagen had said he’d fought ful out.

She was thankful her brother hadn’t done the same.

Then she moved to a smal cut across his nose. The blood had dried, but she washed it and coated it with ointment to keep the cut from getting infected. When she washed his face, she found skin so brown it seemed the same color as the dirt she removed.

His cheeks were hol ow, tel ing her he didn’t have regular meals.

The boy jerked when she touched his chest, but there was nowhere for him to go. Her hands moved down his thin frame until she felt dried blood. Careful y, she unbuttoned his shirt and found another wound, this one more a puncture.

His chest was also tanned and bore not a hair. The wound lay a few inches above his waist and appeared too old to have been inicted by her brother.

Sage set to work forcing herself not to look at the boy’s face. She guessed, at the very least, he must nd this terribly embarrassing. While she worked she hummed, l ing the silence. With gentle strokes she washed around the wound, praying that whatever had poked him hadn’t gone too deep. The wound wasn’t new. Maybe two or three days old. It didn’t seem to be infected probably because it continued to seep blood a few drops at a time.

Sage doctored it with a mixture of root and ashes the Apache had told her about, then made a patch soaked in aloe oil to go over the wound. Wrapping the area careful y so that the patch wouldn’t slip even if he wiggled, she said a silent prayer for him. Final y, she buttoned back the rag he wore as a shirt.

“I’l check it again tomorrow,” she said, meeting his eyes for the rst time. If she knew her medicine at al , the oil would have already eased the pain around the wound and by tomorrow he’d be on the mend.

The fear and anger were gone from his eyes, but he stil watched her warily.

“I’l offer you water if you promise not to speak when I take off the gag.”

He nodded once.

Libby leaned closer. “Are you sure, Sage? He might try to bite you.”

Sage studied the kid. “Wil you promise not to try to bite me?”

He nodded once more.

Turning to Liberty, Sage winked and said, “Shoot him if he tries anything. I’m in no mood to be gnawed on.”

Liberty nodded and did her best to frown at the kid, but tough wasn’t a role she could pul off.

Sage untied the gag and leaned back, waiting.

He didn’t say a word.

Careful y, she lifted the dipper and set it to his lips. He drank long gulps, spil ing a little on his chin in his haste. It was obvious he hadn’t had water or food al day, maybe longer.

Sage nal y pul ed the dipper away.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, then bit his bottom lip as if remembering he wasn’t supposed to say a word.

Sage grinned. “What’s your name?”

“Drummond.”

“Wel , Drummond, open your mouth. I have to put the gag back on.”

He shook his head.

Sage raised an eyebrow. “Open your mouth. I won’t tie it so tightly tonight, and tomorrow morning I’l bring you breakfast if you cooperate now.”

He fol owed orders, but she could see the mistrust in his eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’d been promised something that never happened.

Touching his bony shoulder, she whispered, “I’l be back at dawn. I promise.”

He looked away as if not wanting to hear a lie.

As they walked back to the house, Sage asked Libby, “Did you see that boy’s eyes?”

Libby leaned closer. “They looked cold. Like they would just as soon kil you as look at you.”

“Outlaw eyes,” Sage said as she stepped on the porch. “In a few years he’l be a gunghter or a bank robber.”

“Either way, he’l be a kil er.” Libby joined her on the top step.

“Maybe,” Sage answered. “Maybe not.”

chapter 17

Y

liberty relaxed into the old rocker on the

front porch of the McMurray ranch. It had been one of the longest days of her life, but she knew she couldn’t sleep until Tobin made it back. She told herself it was because she needed to know that Stel a would cause them no more trouble, but in truth, she wanted Tobin back beside her.

Sage bumped her way out from the kitchen with two cups of coffee. “You can go on to bed, Liberty. I’l be ne on guard.”

Liberty shook her head. “I’m wide awake,” she lied. “But you turn in. If I so much as hear a mouse sneeze, I’l wake you.”

Sage laughed as she handed her a cup. “I’l wait up for Tobin too, I guess, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to write a note to Michael. It’s been almost a week since he was injured and I haven’t heard a word. Even if he’s real y hurt bad, I know Travis wil read him my letters.”

Liberty patted her arm. She felt she’d known Sage for years instead of hours. “You go ahead. Your ranger is a brave man, but a letter might help with recovery.”

Sage shrugged. “He’s not my ranger yet, but I’m hoping he wil be one day. Did I tel you how we met? I turned a corner in Austin and we just ran into one another. He grabbed me to keep me from fal ing and I laughed.” As if to demonstrate, Sage giggled, looking even younger than her eighteen years. “You should have seen his face when my brother, Travis, came storming around the corner ready to ght the man who had his arms around his little sister. I should have panicked and jumped away, but I was in no hurry to have Michael turn loose of me. His arms just felt right, you know, like I should have been close to him.”

Liberty smiled, understanding exactly and wishing her life could be so simple. Sage had turned a corner and bumped into her love. Liberty wasn’t so lucky. She didn’t t with the man she cared about and he didn’t want to marry anyone, much less her; meanwhile, the man who wanted to marry her, Liberty could never care for. Samuel’s arms had been a trap, Tobin’s hold a shelter. But it was only a temporary shelter.

She and Tobin were far too different ever to think of a life together. There was something untamed about him. He was perfectly at home sleeping out beneath the stars or in the barn at her father’s home. In fact, the only time she’d seen him il at ease was inside the house. She, on the other hand, was made for ne linen and bubble baths. So how was it possible that they could be attracted to one another? The gods had a sense of humor.

Liberty touched the bruise on her cheek knowing it would fade, but her doubts about her judgment, when it came to men, never would. How could she have thought Samuel would be the perfect husband? Why had she acted like such a child and insisted on a quick wedding? If she’d waited a few months, she would have seen the man beneath the uniform long before a wedding had been planned.

Maybe that was her problem. Liberty never waited for anything in her life. Her father probably gured that by sending her here to do nothing but hide, he was sending her to hel . Liberty smiled. The senator might be surprised to know how interesting she found this place. She could almost feel herself changing and growing. Once she returned to Washington, there would be little left of the girl who had left three months ago.

Sage went inside the house to check on Teagen one last time. Liberty curled her legs beneath her in the chair and watched the night sky. This place was different from any she’d ever known. There was a quietness about it, a stil ness. She might like the wild beauty of it, but she knew that if she stayed long the loneliness of the place would ultimately bore her.

A gentle wind moved her chair, rocking her to sleep. She drifted in her dream free of al worry. She danced a waltz across a polished marble oor.

“Some guard.”

For a moment the words seemed a part of her dream; then Liberty came ful y awake to the sound of Tobin’s low whistle.

She jumped almost tumbling from the chair. “I only nodded off,” she tried to explain as he loomed over her. “You didn’t have to frighten me to death.”

He ignored her complaint. “How’s Teagen?”

“He’s ne. Sleeping.” She tried to stand but one leg remained asleep.

He laughed as he offered her a hand. “Where’s Sage?”

Liberty pointed, then fol owed him to the study. Sage lay sound asleep at the desk, the pen stil in her hand. Without a word Tobin picked her up and carried her to the room across the hal . “When we were kids,” he whispered to Liberty as he took Sage’s boots off, “she wouldn’t go to bed until we did. Almost every night she’d fal asleep while my brothers and I were talking. At rst we tried to wake her, but nal y we just took turns carrying her. When we built the bedrooms on upstairs, Teagen insisted Sage take the downstairs bedroom just in case she grew up fat.”

He covered his sister with a quilt and kissed her on the cheek. “She could sleep through any storm. She’s probably spent as many nights in her clothes as her nightgown.” Turning the lamp down by her bed, he added, “She hates the dark so we leave a light burning because she usual y wakes before dawn.”

Liberty couldn’t say a word. She just stared at the caring reected in Tobin’s actions.

She’d bet al three big brothers had a soft spot for their little sister. She had a feeling that if any man ever hurt Sage he’d be triple dead.

As they stepped into the hal way, Tobin looked back at his sister, and to Liberty’s surprise, she saw sadness in his gaze.

“What is it?” she whispered, fearing that something might be wrong with Sage that Tobin hadn’t mentioned. She was smal but seemed healthy. A dozen il nesses came to mind and Liberty didn’t want to imagine dear Sage having any of them.

He shook his head and walked toward the kitchen. “It can wait until morning. Let her sleep.”

Liberty fol owed him. “It can’t wait. I know something is wrong. Now I can’t sleep.”

She circled round him as he reached for the plate Martha had left in the warmer box over the stove.

“Go to bed, Libby. The morning wil be soon enough for bad news.” He poured the last of the coffee and downed it al at once.

“No,” she said thinking that he looked truly tired. “I’l know tonight.” She folded her arms over her chest and prepared to wait him out.

He frowned at her.

She waited.

“Al right,” Tobin said as he turned toward the table. After setting his plate down, he reached for a whisky bottle tucked behind the our tin. “Want a drink?” He pul ed two glasses from a shelf.