"This looks like a men's club," Holt said.
"It practically is most evenings. But the ladies who are guests here like to join the men."
Unlike the entrance hall, the lobby was covered with carpets which softened sound. An occasional laugh interrupted the quiet of the room. Waiters moved among the guests taking orders for the bar.
"How do I begin meeting these people?" Holt asked. "I have some letters of introduction, but--"
"Nobody stands on ceremony in Galveston," Dr. Moore said. "We get a drink from the bar, then move around the room. If I see somebody I know, he'll call me over, and I'll introduce you."
Almost immediately a man hailed Dr. Moore. "Heard Durwin Sealy tried to kill himself again," the man said even before the doctor had had a chance to introduce Holt.
"He would have succeeded if this young man hadn't been on hand to take that spoke out of his leg," Dr. Moore said.
The man looked surprised. "I thought you took care of the Sealy boys."
"Dr. Price happened on the accident just after I got there. Turns out he was a doctor during the war. He's a whole lot more used to operating than I am."
The man turned to Holt and extended his hand. "Clyde Prentiss is the name. Are you planning to stay in Galveston long?"
"We got us a young romantic here," Dr. Moore said, giving Holt a little nudge in the ribs. "Seems he fell in love with a young lady before the war. But he was a penniless medical student and she a young beauty." Dr. Moore turned to Holt. "You didn't tell me all that, but everybody knows all medical students are poor."
"My great-uncle was paying for my education," Holt said.
"But the young beauty married another man," Dr. Moore continued, "only to be widowed by the war. She decided to come to Texas to live with the family of her departed husband. Maybe even to have his child."
It was a possibility Holt had tried to ignore.
"But the handsome young doctor never forgot his beautiful love," Dr. Moore said. "After the war ended, he came to Texas to look for her."
"When did you get here?" Mr. Prentiss asked.
"I arrived two years ago," Holt said. "I've been working for a friend."
"All the while searching San Antonio and Austin for his beloved Vivian," Dr. Moore said.
Holt was beginning to be a little embarrassed at the melodramatic manner in which Dr. Moore was telling his story. It made him sound like a brainless saphead.
"I'm sure nothing is the same as it was six years ago," Holt said, "but I would like to see her again. I've lost so many friends during the last few years, I've become eager to hold on to the ones I have."
His comments caused Mr. Prentiss's jovial mood to flag. "We all lost a lot in that war," he said.
"We all know how much you thought of young Tom," Dr. Moore said. "His death was a terrible loss."
Tom Prentiss! That name was like a bolt out of the past. There was a Tom Prentiss in the Night Riders. He died the day Laveau diViere betrayed them to the Union Army.
Chapter Five
"Where did your son serve?" Holt asked.
"In Virginia. He was in an elite cavalry troop called the Night Riders." Clyde Prentiss smiled briefly. "He begged me to send him money for a better horse. He said he was ashamed to ride a Texas mustang when everybody else's mount had thoroughbred or Morgan blood."
"He bought a handsome chestnut gelding," Holt said, remembering Tom's great pride in his horse. "It had four white stockings and a blaze. He was almost as good-looking as Tom."
Clyde Prentiss lost all color. "You knew Tom?"
"I was in the Night Riders, too."
"Tell me about him," Clyde asked. "Tom wasn't much for writing unless he wanted something."
Holt didn't want to remember, but Clyde Prentiss's hunger to hear about his son was clearly a vital need. So Holt spent the next thirty minutes talking to Clyde about the son who'd been the light of his life. As he talked, he remembered the other men as well, most of them barely more than boys--young, enthusiastic, burning with determination to protect their homes from the invaders. He remembered Laveau diViere, the horror and cruelty of his betrayal.
And he remembered his vow never to rest until they brought the traitor to justice.
Talking about Tom made him feel guilty that he'd momentarily forgotten Laveau in his desire to find Vivian. Laveau had managed to elude them twice. The Union Army's protection would make bringing him to justice extremely difficult, but Holt renewed his determination to get back into the hunt.
"You'll have to stop by the house one evening," Clyde Prentiss was saying. "Once my wife knows you're in Galveston--hell, it would be the same if you were anywhere in Texas--she won't rest until she pries out of you every detail you can remember about Tom. His sisters'll be just as bad."
"I'll be happy to talk to your family," Holt said. "All of us thought a lot of Tom."
Clyde rose. "I gotta be going. I can't wait to tell my wife. Where can I find you?"
"He's staying with us for the next few days," Dr. Moore said.
"Don't be surprised if Mrs. Prentiss shows up at the doc's place tomorrow. I don't know that she can hold off her questions long enough to feed you first. Who did you say you were looking for?" Clyde asked.
"Vivian Calvert," Holt told him. "Her husband was killed in the war, and she came to Texas to live with his family."
"I don't know any Calverts," Clyde said, "but I'll ask my wife. She and the girls know a lot more about the womenfolk in Galveston than I do."
"I'd appreciate it," Holt said.
It had gotten rather late, and Holt was feeling guilty about leaving Felicity in charge of Durwin for so long, so he and the doctor followed Clyde Prentiss when he left. Holt was relieved that Dr. Moore had had only one whiskey all evening.
"Clyde's a great fella," Dr. Moore said after they parted from Prentiss, "but he has never gotten over his son's death. Fair doted on that boy, he did. We all tried to keep Tom from going off to war--you didn't have to be a fortune teller to know how his death would affect his family--but nobody could change his mind. It was his duty to defend Texas, just as his father had done in '48 against Mexico."
Holt remembered Senora diViere's lament that the two wars with Mexico had cost her a husband and a son. He wondered if people would ever stop using wars to settle disputes.
Occupied with his own thoughts, he let the doctor talk on unheeded about families who'd lost someone in the war and how the losses had devastated those left behind.
"I'm glad you got to talk to Clyde," Dr. Moore said, "but it didn't help you much in your search for your young woman. Clyde doesn't move in the right circles. I'll have to see what I can do another night."
Holt wondered what Vivian would look like. The last six years must have changed her from the girl he'd known into a mature woman, a wife and possibly a mother. He was almost certain he would find her in Galveston.
If she was still in Texas.
Pilar, his old boss's wife, had reminded him that an unmarried woman without family was at a severe disadvantage. Vivian's position would be even more difficult if she had a child. Wartime conditions would make it virtually untenable. It was possible the Calvert family hadn't welcomed her, that she'd had to learn to support herself. But Holt doubted that could be true. Vivian had no talents except being beautiful. She'd been brought up to believe she didn't need any others.
He couldn't begin to count the number of times he'd asked himself why he couldn't forget Vivian. The most obvious reason was that Vivian was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Thick, golden blond hair framed a face of creamy complexion and perfectly formed features. Pursed red lips and bright green eyes resulted in an enchantress who had all the allure her Irish ancestry could give her. She had a way of making a man feel he was ten feet tall and capable of heroic feats. When a man was with Vivian, he felt invincible.
Vivian had always worried about money. She'd been brought up in great wealth, but her father had gambled it all away. When her pa
rents died, she was left on the charity of Holt's Uncle William. Vivian quickly took to Holt because, as she told him quite candidly, he was too old to be husband material--as well as being too poor--and she was going to treat him like a big brother. Holt hadn't minded but he hadn't been smitten then. Merely intrigued that this precocious young beauty would treat him like a brother.
He'd lost his heart later, gradually, before he knew what was happening. She had been a delightful elf, a cheerful companion, slightly irreverent. He told her quite often she was being naughty when she teased the men who followed her like panting puppies, but he nearly always laughed with her, because her youthful acuity enabled her to see through people's defenses. And her intelligence enabled her to turn their weaknesses into a wicked joke. Holt had to admit that his remonstrances often lacked conviction.
Then one day after about five years, he looked at her and saw an entirely different person. She was no longer a child, an enchanting, delightful pixie. She was a woman, beautiful and desirable. It had taken him a week before he could trust himself to see her again.
Holt had been so caught up in his thoughts, he hadn't realized Dr. Moore had fallen silent until they were nearly home.
"I'll sit with Durwin first," the doctor said. "That'll give you and Felicity a chance to talk a bit before we go to bed."
"What do we have to talk about?" Holt asked.
"I'd like for you two to get along. There's something wrong between you. I'd like to see you work it out."
"Why?"
"I like you. Don't know when I've taken to a young man so quickly. Maybe I'm hoping you'll stay in Galveston. If you decide you want to stay in medicine, maybe we can work together. Or it could be none of this. But if we're going to be living in the same house, it'd be nice if you two could get along better."
"I can leave."
"I don't want you to do that. I don't know what ails Felicity, but I'm sure you can fix it. Will you talk to her?"
"Sure."
The doctor didn't know that what ailed Felicity was the doctor himself. But Holt meant to keep his own counsel on that score.
"Your father wants us to talk," Holt said to Felicity when she came into the kitchen.
"Why?"
She pulled away from him sharply. He could understand her disliking him because she was afraid he would expose her father. Or because he could do something her father couldn't. Or because she feared he would horn in on her father's practice, then push him aside. But those things could be dealt with in a businesslike manner. Her aversion to being anywhere close to him was personal. He wasn't the most wonderful person in the world, nor the best looking or most charming, but he'd never before encountered anyone who formed an aversion to him the minute they met.
"I don't think he likes living in an armed camp. I know I don't. It reminds me too much of the war."
She seated herself in a chair across from him. He decided to remain standing. He'd sat too long at the hotel.
"You'll have to forgive me if I'm unable to muster the proper enthusiasm to welcome a stranger into my home."
"I'm told Southerners are famous for their hospitality, especially Texans."
"We are, but that hospitality is most often extended to family, travelers looking for a place to stay for the night, or someone in need or danger. You don't qualify as any of those."
"So you automatically don't like me."
"I don't like or dislike you. I don't know you well enough."
"I don't believe you."
She looked slightly taken aback, but she quickly recovered. "I do know several things about you I don't like." She cast him an annoyed glance. "I'm getting a crick in my neck staring up at you. If we have to talk, please sit down."
"Nobody ever complained about my height before."
"That doesn't surprise me. Big men, especially those who are good-looking, are allowed to grow up thinking they're special."
"You think I'm good-looking?" He liked that. After years of being around Owen Wheeler and Broc Kincaid, he'd come to think of himself as practically ugly.
"It has been my experience that doctors and military officers are the worst offenders," Felicity said, pointedly ignoring his question. "They appear to think the power of their rank and their right to order people around makes them more deserving than anyone else."
"And since I'm big, a doctor, and served in the military, I've managed to offend you in every way possible."
She waited a moment. "Are you going to sit?"
"I'd rather stand. I've been sitting all day."
"Then I'll stand, too."
"Okay, I'll sit. There's no point in both of us striding about the room. We're liable to collide."
The thought of his body touching hers had an unexpected effect on him. While he'd thought her attractive from the first, he hadn't felt this before, what he could only describe as a physical tug between them. He'd only met her this morning. She shouldn't have any effect on him at all.
But she was having an effect. Just thinking about touching her caused his body to stiffen. He seated himself. The last thing he wanted was for her to realize she'd caused this reaction. She'd probably throw him out of the house right away.
"You haven't offended me in any of those ways, though I expect you'll manage it before long," Felicity said.
"Okay, so I made you mad because of what I said about your father."
"You certainly did."
"You think it's okay for him to treat patients when he's drunk."
She waited before she answered, as if she were counting to ten, or twenty-five. "I've tried to explain that, which was more than you deserved. You saw him for the first time today. I've seen him every day of my life. I know him in ways you never can. What bothers me most is the incredible arrogance that allows you to march in here and make a judgment about people's actions. I find that reprehensible."
Felicity Moore was obviously a young woman used to plain speaking. Well, he was from Vermont, and his folks weren't too bad at plain speaking, either. Doctors had to hold themselves to a higher standard. The public offered them blind trust. They couldn't betray that trust by ignorance of medicine or any form of self-indulgence. As limited as their abilities were, the ability to prolong life was an almost divine quality. They were honor-bound to do nothing to dishonor it.
But even as the words sprang to his lips, he hesitated.
He remembered the cruel, vicious things people had said about his father. The fact that many of the things were true only made their words cut more deeply. He'd been scarred so deeply that even the promise of a successful career couldn't lure him back to Vermont. He knew he couldn't face the people he'd known since birth without remembering things they'd said.
About his father. About his mother. About himself.
"Is there anything else you'd like to add?" he asked.
"Nobody made you the supreme authority on what a doctor should do, how he should live his life, or conduct his practice. Or whether his daughter knows enough to help him without jeopardizing the health and well-being of his patients."
He knew she'd get to that sooner or later.
"And I find your attitude that women shouldn't have anything to do with medicine positively barbaric."
"Whoa there a minute. I didn't say women shouldn't have anything to do with medicine. I merely questioned your qualifications to do so."
"Only because I haven't been to medical school."
"That's one reason."
"What's another?"
"That's the only one I have so far."
"But you expect to add more tomorrow or the next day."
"I expect I'll find you have a competence in a lot of areas. As you say, doctors are still learning by apprenticeships. You've had a better opportunity to learn than most."
He couldn't decide if she was slightly mollified or just stymied for the moment. "You were a great help when I was operating on Durwin. You seemed to know what I wanted before I asked. That's a special talent." That ha
d impressed him, but it hadn't changed his mind about the ethics of her taking care of her father's patients when he was too drunk to do it himself.
Holt watched Felicity as she sat without speaking, looking down at her hands. He didn't understand why she refused to meet his gaze. He wasn't angry. He didn't dislike her. They just disagreed on a few things. Okay, a few important things. Still, that didn't mean she had to act as if she wished he'd never set foot in Galveston.
He realized the true reason he was so annoyed was that he wanted Felicity to like him.
"I didn't want my father to invite you to stay here," she said, then lifted her gaze to his. "I have no doubt you're a fine doctor--I know you're an excellent surgeon--but he doesn't need you. I hope you'll go as soon as Durwin's out of the woods." She started to get up.
"Stay a minute," he said. "We might as well get the real things straight. You want me out of the house, and probably out of Galveston, because you see me as a threat to your father's reputation and ability to earn a living."
She nodded her head.
"You don't dislike me for any other reason?"
"As I just said, I don't know you well enough to like or dislike you."
"But you could like me if you weren't afraid of what I might do to your father."
She was slow to respond.
"Yes, I could. You have good manners, can carry on an intelligent conversation, and aren't unpleasant to look at."
He controlled the strong desire to use one of Cade Wheeler's favorite curses. "Talk about being damned by faint praised." He thought Felicity almost smiled.
"I suppose it sounds that way, but I don't trust you."
"What would I have to do to gain your trust?" Why was he asking that question?
"I doubt you'll be here long enough for it to matter."
Exactly what he thought. She stood to go, but his next statement caused her to pause. "Let's assume I was going to be here for months, even years. What would it take?" Now he was getting argumentative, asking questions merely to prove a point.
"I suppose you'd have to believe my father was a good doctor who doesn't treat patients when he's drunk."
"And?" He knew there was more. She hadn't gotten to his attitude about women, or her. "You haven't mentioned yourself."
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