The Texan's Touch

by Jodi Thomas

  “Welcome to Texas, Bergette,” Adam managed to say with a forced smile.

  “Thank you,” she answered sweetly as she leaned and almost touched his cheek with a kiss. “I just couldn’t stay away from you any longer, darling.”

  “I see she’s here! That’s her, ain’t it, Doc!” Harry yelled. “I’m mighty glad she wasn’t the woman on the stage two days ago.” Harry’s normally twitchy body seemed to have been wound to double-time with the excitement of seeing such a pretty lady.

  The young station operator broke the spell on the crowd and everyone moved about their business. The young officer excused himself to return to his duties, and the stage driver pointed toward two huge trunks left behind as though he expected Adam to do something about them. Bergette simply turned away, as always, expecting someone else to take care of the details.

  “You surely didn’t come alone, Miss Dupont?” Adam looked around at the other passengers across the street claiming luggage.

  “Of course not.” Bergette giggled. “Charles and Lily are with me, but I’ll know true hardship without my cook and personal maid.”

  Adam offered her his arm, and they moved into the shade. He’d recovered from the shock, but still found his muscles tense as if waiting for a blow he knew would come. “Why are you here?” he whispered between clenched teeth as they strolled.

  Bergette pouted a moment, as if hating to answer. Her temperament made him almost laugh aloud. Could it be possible that she thought he’d run to her when he saw her step off the stage? Surely she wasn’t that short of memory, or that vain?

  “When Papa returned from Indianapolis, he wasn’t happy about our broken engagement.” She played with one of her perfect curls as she spoke. “You’re a returning hero, a doctor, a McLain.”

  Adam stopped walking. “What does my name have to do with our engagement being canceled? Or anything else for that matter.”

  Bergette looked around, as if hoping to be distracted from this conversation. “Your father was one of the immigrant bosses on the work crews that built the canals.”

  “That was years ago!” Adam snapped.

  “But if my papa runs for state office, people have long memories. The older men will remember your father, the younger may remember you or your brothers. Papa had no son in the war, and you know he didn’t have the health to fight.” She began to pout again. “He said I let him down. I hurt his chances of election. Oh, Adam, you wouldn’t believe how he talked to me!”

  “I’m sorry,” Adam tried to sound sympathetic. To be honest, he doubted his family name would help much in getting the old man elected. Dupont had been a selfish, self-centered, money-hungry fool for far too long. His only talent in life had been to father a beautiful daughter.

  “So.” He tried to follow her reasoning. “You ran away?”

  “No,” she answered as she dabbed at dry eyes. “I ran to see you once more. I just had to talk to you.”

  Adam didn’t want to talk to her. He’d said all he planned to say the morning he’d left her house. “Have you already arranged for a place to stay?” Adam asked, knowing she probably hadn’t and hoping to change the subject.

  “I thought you’d recommend a hotel or boardinghouse. But the officer who rode in with the stage said he thought the doc in Fort Worth lived in a boardinghouse.” She tilted her head and smiled, as if for a portrait. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “I do,” Adam could feel the hinges of the trapdoor beneath his feet starting to creak, “but there are only three rooms vacant, and they need a great deal of work before they can be rented. The owner is recovering from a long illness. And I’m making noise all day and night with patients coming. And—”

  “I’ll survive.” Bergette lifted her chin. “Show me the way. Papa made sure I had enough money to be comfortable in this primitive state.”

  Adam planted his feet square apart and folded his arms. “Hold on. First, I don’t know if Mrs. Jamison is willing or able to take on three new boarders, and second, we need to get something straight right now, Bergette. We are not engaged to be married.” He wanted to add a third that he had all he could handle hiding a woman from Mrs. Jamison, much less bringing another home.

  Bergette pulled at one of her curls so hard it needed reironing. “All right, Adam. We’re engaged to be engaged. And we will be no problem to this Mrs. Jamison. Charles and Lily will take care of me. I’ll offer whatever’s necessary to talk her into letting me stay. But I’ve decided to give you another chance and I’ll hear no argument.”

  She lowered her voice. “And before you get all upset you might as well know I’m only staying a month. Papa says I can come home then, alone, or with you if you come to your senses.”

  Adam forced himself to breathe. He could endure one month of anything, even Bergette. Maybe he could figure a way to only look at her and not have to talk to her. The nun would help him keep Nichole out of sight. One month.

  “I’ll go check with Mrs. Jamison about you renting her extra rooms.” He hated giving in. If he could have thought of another way for her to turn he’d have sent her packing, or left her on the streets. But this town was no place for a lady alone.

  Knowing she’d won the first battle, Bergette smiled and motioned for Charles and Lily to follow.

  An hour later the smile faded as she climbed the steps to her new home. What had been a serviceable alternative for Adam was enough to make her cry out in horror. Only Adam’s description of the hotel kept her from running for other lodging. She’d shown no interest in meeting the nun or Nance Edward and barely glanced around at Adam’s office. But Mrs. Jamison was different, she received the full measure of Bergette’s charm.

  After the short tour, she rested in his office while Adam helped Charles move furniture upstairs. Lily, the maid, cleaned. In less time than Adam thought possible, they’d transformed the three extra rooms into living quarters for Bergette. A bedroom, a sitting area, and a dining room. With all new furniture, lace and linens from the stores, Bergette thought the space livable. Carpenters arrived by midafternoon to enlarge the two windows facing the front and to build a second-floor balcony for Bergette.

  Adam dropped in on Mrs. Jamison, fearing the noise would not allow her to rest. Surprisingly, he found her happy. She assured him that Bergette had offered to pay for all repairs and planned to leave the furnishings when her stay ended. On top of everything, she insisted on paying full rent not only for her three rooms but for her employees. The tiny little blonde had won Mrs. Jamison over by treating the widow as if her position as proprietor were of great importance. Bergette acted as though she valued the widow’s advice and thanked her for being so kind in allowing her to stay. For the first time in years, Mrs. Jamison forgot she was an outlaw’s widow and felt important.

  Lily made a cot in the laundry room off the kitchen with the agreement that she’d do all the house’s laundry, and Charles rigged himself a tent on half the back porch. Suddenly, the boardinghouse was full.

  By late afternoon Bergette hired a buggy to take the Jamisons and her employees shopping. As soon as they were out of sight, Adam went in search of the nun.

  He found her cuddled between boxes in the storage room with Nichole asleep beside her.

  “Heaven help us, Doctor,” the nun cried, “the devil has blond curls.”

  Adam laughed. “You’ll get no argument from me.” He helped the nun to her feet.

  “What are we to do with our poor child?” She touched Nichole’s head. “I’d let her stay with me, but my room is little more than a closet. There’s not enough room for another cot in it. And here isn’t safe, I’ve spent the day hiding her from people bringing in items to store. This close to the fancy little lady would never be wise.”

  “She could stay in my study,” Adam suggested. “I could move my books to the medical office across the hall. Anyone would have to cross through my bedr
oom to get to Nichole and trust me, Bergette will never be in my bedroom.”

  The nun showed no surprise at his announcement. She was a woman who looked deeper than ruffles and lace. “I could easily bring her food and tell the others you hate having your things disturbed so they are never, never to go in your quarters. Nance hears everything said in this house, he could let us know if they suspect something, and he loves a secret. He’d be a fine ally.”

  “It might work,” Adam agreed.

  “You bring her, Doctor, while I carry the cot down. We have to move fast before they come back.”

  Adam lifted a sleeping Nichole. He knew the medicine he’d given her and the days she’d probably gone without sleep had caught up to her, but when he put his arm around her she snuggled into his chest making his heart jump a beat. They moved her downstairs as silently as they could even though there was no one else in the house.

  “Do you really believe, Doctor, that you can keep your fiancée from finding out about this one you call Nick?” The nun frowned as she made space for the cot in Adam’s book-lined study.

  “I don’t know,” he answered in frustration. Bergette introduced herself to everyone as his fiancée, and he would have looked like a fool following behind calling her a liar. “All I know is I have to protect Nichole.”

  Nichole stirred in his arms and mumbled, “You don’t have to protect me. I can take care of myself.”

  He could see anger banking in her sleepy eyes. Anger and hurt mixed as she came awake.

  “And I agree with Sister Celestine, this study is no place for me,” she argued. “I’d be safer outside, hiding on the land. Just get me out of town. There’s a grove of trees not an hour from here that would suit me fine. I can fend for myself.”

  Adam’s head snapped up so hard he felt it pop. “Sister Celestine?” He looked from the woman in his arms to the nun. “She told you her name?”

  “No,” Nichole said. “I read it in her prayer book. There wasn’t much to do upstairs.”

  “Is Nick right?” He lowered Nichole’s feet gently to the floor as he stared at the nun.

  No emotion marked the old woman’s face. “The other sisters called me Sister Cel. I wish no one else in the house to know my name. Having them call me Sister suits me fine but you and Nick can call me Sister Cel.”

  “Thanks.” Adam knew she’d given him a gift by allowing him to call her by name. “Sister Cel, will you help me hide Nichole here even if it’s not the best place?”

  “I will,” she answered proudly. “When I saw others moving in, I thought I should be leaving. Now I see I’m needed. The very wind whispers trouble.”

  “You’re not superstitious, too?” Adam raised an eyebrow.

  “No,” she answered. “It’s not superstitious to listen for trouble’s footsteps.”

  “Well, however you know, I think you’re right and you are also greatly needed,” he added, guessing that he’d touched on her one reason for living.

  The nun nodded as she went about making the small bed they had moved from upstairs.

  “Stop acting like I’m invisible and defenseless!” Nichole snapped.

  She was only a few inches shorter than he and now faced him squarely. “I do what I want to do and answer to no one, no matter what you believe or Sister hears in the wind. It that clear, Doc?”

  He couldn’t help but wonder if she always woke up with such fire. Then he made the mistake of smiling. She attacked.

  “If I decide to stay here in your study, we might as well clear the air. First, don’t take the bullets out of my Colt again, ever. Second, you’re not the only one in this house who is engaged. Tyler will come with my brother to get me as soon as the smoke clears at home.”

  Adam was so busy trying to hide his surprise that he didn’t bother explaining to her that the engagement to Bergette was a farce. “Tyler?” he questioned. “Tyler? The man who was in command that night you were dying?”

  “He took me to the train,” she answered with a lift of her eyebrows that seemed to say more.

  “Wonderful.” Adam felt as if it had been raining on him all day. Why should he be surprised now when lightning struck him? “I’m happy for you both. Now you can marry and run around the country raising little Shadows.”

  “Fine,” Nichole answered. “I feel the same way about you and little Miss Silk.”

  “Fine!” Adam snapped as he faced Nichole.

  Sister Cel stepped between them as she passed. “Now that everyone is fine here, can we get back to work? There are people waiting to see a doctor.”

  “Where?” Adam hadn’t seen anyone all day.

  “She said she’d wait till dark, but if you got time now, she needs care. You can have her doctored long before the others return.” The nun nodded toward the house on the left where several women from the saloons stayed. “Her name is Dancing, and I’m not sure she can walk over here. Her friend came over to check if you were seeing anyone and if you’d let them bring her over before dark.”

  “I’ll go get her myself before the others get back.” Adam had never asked her opinion, but he imagined Mrs. Jamison would not be pleased by the people who sought his help during the nights. Her husband might have died an outlaw, but she considered herself a respectable widow.

  The nun on the other hand made no judgment. People were people. Several times, when he’d needed another set of hands, she’d appeared in the hallway and helped.

  He glanced at Nichole. “Stay here, and stay quiet.”

  She didn’t argue.

  Ten minutes later, she watched through a crack in the paneling as he carried a woman into his office. She was badly bruised and bleeding.

  “Sister!” Adam yelled. “Sister!”

  He laid the woman down on the table and began pulling bandages from the cabinet.

  “She said she had to leave for a while.” Nichole rolled her sleeves up with clumsy bandaged fingers. “What can I do?”

  Adam hesitated. “You shouldn’t be here. I told you—”

  “Stop giving orders. This woman looks too near death to say anything. I may not be able to help much, but I appear to be all you have. When we hear the others, I’ll disappear. You seem to forget I can melt into nothing and vanish like smoke.”

  “But your hands?”

  “They’re better. I can stand a little discomfort if help’s needed.” Nichole looked down at the woman. “What happened to her?”

  “The owner of the saloon accused her of stealing whiskey and slapped her around last night. When he found out she was planning to come to me, I guess he thought it would look bad for his reputation. So he beat her into silence.” Adam moved a scarf away from her face. “You wouldn’t know it now, but she’s a pretty girl, probably not out of her teens.”

  Nichole touched the woman’s bleeding hand with her bandaged one. “Tell me what to do.”

  Adam pulled off his coat. “Talk to her, keep her calm. If you have to, hold her down. Her left leg’s broken in two places, maybe more, and there are several cuts that need stitching. I don’t know if there are any injuries inside her or not. Her name’s Dancing.”

  As Adam began examining the cuts and mentally ranking them in order of need, Nichole leaned beside Dancing and, in a soft, Southern voice, began to speak. “You’re going to be fine, Dancing. This here is the best doc in Texas. He’ll have that leg set and you back twirling across the dance floor in two shakes of a possum’s tail.”

  Adam listened as Nichole whispered. He felt Dancing jerk when he set the leg, but she held on to Nichole’s arm without crying out. The nun returned and took up the job of keeping anyone, mainly Bergette, from bothering the doctor while he was working.

  By the time they finished, it was long past dinner and the new arrivals to their household had turned in for the night. Adam and Nichole ate dinner in the examini
ng room while watching Dancing sleep.

  “Thanks for your help,” he finally broke the silence. “I seem to be saying that every time I see you.”

  “I did it for her. No one should be beaten like that. She’s like a wounded animal, too frightened to let out a cry.”

  He didn’t miss the fire in her eyes as she added, “Someone should do something about that man.”

  “Agreed. But with men getting shot in gunfights and the stage being attacked, I doubt the deputy will take time for a barmaid. Some folks consider beatings as an occupational hazard of such women.”

  “You mean no one will do anything?”

  “He could have killed Dancing and no one would do anything, Nick.” He moved his chair closer and shoved his plate away. “You’ve put me off twice this afternoon. It’s time to take a look at those hands now.”

  Nichole started to pull away, but decided to give in. In truth, her hands were throbbing.

  Adam doctored them with the same care he always showed. “You’ve opened a few of the blisters, but you’re healing nicely.” He wrapped each finger slowly. “Tomorrow I don’t want you doing anything. We’ll unwrap them and let them heal. As for tonight, I’ll give you something to help you sleep without pain.”

  “They don’t hurt anymore,” she lied. “Compared to Dancing, I’ve only a scratch. I don’t matter.”

  Adam turned her newly bandaged hands over in his own. “You matter to me,” he whispered. His knees were so close to hers they lightly brushed her trouser leg. “Despite everything, I’m glad I have the chance to see you again. I’ve thought of you often.”

  “Why?” She leaned forward watching his warm brown eyes study her.

  “I feel—” He stopped suddenly, unable to look anywhere but at her. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered his thoughts. “So beautiful in so many ways.”

  Nichole knew if she spoke she’d break the spell and they’d return to reality. She also knew with her ugly men’s clothing and short hair she was anything but beautiful. But if he wanted to believe it, if only for a minute, she wasn’t going to stop him.