at it. “You do have a weakness.”
Reflexively Adam twisted to look at whatever Bedell had seen. He drew his firearm, then turned back to Bedell. He fired.
At the same time, another shot rang out.
The birds fled the trees. Both men fell.
Savannah nearly walked right past the curiously squashed-up flat-brimmed hat lying on the ground outside her station.
She was so intent on retrieving her repentant fiancé’s telegraph message that she glanced at the hat, did not think much of it and kept on striding toward home. Her encounter with the family at the depot platform had reinforced the dreams that had driven her west, and Savannah knew she wouldn’t accomplish those dreams by dawdling. Besides, her nose fairly twitched with the seductive fragrance of coffee brewing. She wanted to get home, grab a restorative cup and check the wires with Mose.
Then she glimpsed a man’s fallen body. He lay with one arm out flung, his face hidden. His knees gouged the dirt as though he’d been dropped cold while crawling toward her station. He looked like one of the lifeless “prizes” that her calico mouser, Esmeralda, sometimes left on the station’s front porch.
Chilled by the realization, Savannah sank to the ground beside him. Too late, she saw that the leaves nearby were speckled with blood. Now so were her hands and her dress.
This could only be one man. One man—late but determined.
“Mose!” Savannah yelled. “Come quick!”
Her husband-to-be had arrived at last and if he died before she could marry him, they were both in big trouble.
Chapter Two
Several hours later, Morrow Creek’s sole physician, Dr. Finney, stood in Savannah’s private quarters at the station.
Near him on her rope-sprung bed, the man she and Mose had carried inside now lay insensible in the summertime heat. His clothes were mucked with sweat and dirt and blood, but Savannah had instructed Mose to give him her bed anyway. The man’s face was filmed with perspiration, defying her attempts to cool him.
Lowering her improvised fan, Savannah gazed in concern at the man. Naked from the waist up—a necessity for Dr. Finney’s treatment—he now lay atop the bedding, silent and pale, arms akimbo.
“It’s not decent to leave him exposed this way,” she said.
“It’s not decent for you to be here at all.” Dr. Finney tugged uncomfortably at his necktie. Crossly he shoved medical instruments in his bag. They clinked in place beside a tattered book on animal husbandry, two tins of curative powder and a bundle of bandages. “As soon as you’re able to round up some help, I’d suggest you and Mr. Hawthorne move this man to town.”
“And where shall we move him to?” Savannah asked. “The Lorndorff Hotel? The saloon? Miss Adelaide’s boardinghouse?”
“Your flippancy is uncalled for.” The doctor frowned, still preparing to leave. “A decent woman would not even be aware of the existence of Miss Adelaide’s … establishment.”
“Well, I am.” Given her background, Savannah had discerned the most disreputable of Morrow Creek’s businesses right away. Then she’d vowed to avoid them. “As far as we know, there’s no one except me who can take care of this poor man. I can’t possibly move him.” Especially if he’s my secret mail-order fiancé. “Especially while he’s in this dire condition. If you would please tell me how to care for him, I’ll simply—”
Dr. Finney interrupted. “I realize you are not from around these parts, so I’ve made certain … allowances for you.” His disapproving gaze swept over her homespun gown and tightly wound blond hair. He sighed. “I know you have an unconventional occupation, working out here at the station. I understand you prefer to keep to yourself, as is your right. But none of those factors excuse you from the expectations of polite society.”
“No one in polite society needs to know he’s here.”
“Are you asking me to lie? Because I assure you, I will—”
“I’ll be here.” Mose stepped forward, his expression amiable. His shoulders were wide, his manner no-nonsense, his tone gentle—as gentle as it had been when he and Savannah had first met backstage at the Orpheum Theatre almost twenty years earlier. Mose nodded at the tight-lipped doctor. “I’ll serve as the lady’s chaperone. I’ll safeguard her reputation.”
Savannah guffawed, gesturing to the bed. “The man is cataleptic! I doubt he’ll threaten my virtue anytime soon.”
Mose shot her a warning look. “What she means to say,” he assured the doctor, “is that her character is above reproach. As a good, respectable woman, she only wants to do her Christian duty and care for an injured traveler. Nothing more.”
“Hmm.” Dr. Finney frowned. “This is very irregular.”
His censorious gaze swung around to her. Pinned by his severe demeanor, Savannah sobered. Mose was right. She needed to be more careful. She and her longtime friend had traveled west to start new lives—not to repeat the mistakes of their old ones.
As a good, respectable woman …
Reminded of her goals, Savannah realized that, with a few moments’ unguarded frankness, she’d nearly undone almost a year’s worth of careful behavior. Since coming to live near Morrow Creek, she’d striven to present herself as the woman she wanted to be … not the woman she’d been back in New York City.
She shot a glance at her wounded visitor. For his sake and her own, she needed to make Dr. Finney accept her plan. She needed to care for her husband-to-be here, away from prying eyes. The faster he healed, the faster they could marry.
And the longer this took, the less likely the doctor would be to relent in his stance. If there was one thing Savannah had learned to understand in her former life, it was human nature.
“I know it’s unusual for me to ask this of you, Dr.
Finney. I do appreciate your help with everything. You’ve been positively invaluable this afternoon.” Beaming, Savannah took the doctor’s arm. “I’m afraid the shock of this event simply has me a little undone. I’m just not myself at the moment. I am sorry for any misunderstanding I’ve caused.”
At her apology, the doctor brightened. “There there.” Paternally he patted her hand, nestling it near his elbow. “You’ve been very brave through everything. I’ve known more than a few battlefield nurses in my time, and not one of them would—”
“Oh!” Giving a theatrical groan, Savannah swayed. “I’m sorry. I seem to be getting a bit woozy.” Weakly she grappled for the bedpost. She missed. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Mose, his arms crossed, shaking his head. Ignoring him, she turned to Dr. Finney. “My! It’s a good thing you had such a firm hold on me, Doctor. I might have fallen just now!”
“Well then. You’d better sit down.” Dr. Finney helped her to a chair—obligingly kicked into place by an on-cue Mose. The doctor gave her an assessing look. “You appear quite pale.”
“I
