around the bed. Phoebe Monroe lay on the bed curled into a ball.
Wide-eyed, she looked up at Sage. 'Doc. I hurt. I hurt real bad.'
Sage sat on the dirty bedcovers and said in a calm voice, 'I'm going to help you, but you've got a lot of work to do”
Phoebe nodded. 'The baby's got to come out. I know that much, but it feels like it's going to split me in half”
She brushed the girl's hair back. 'How old are you, Phoebe?'
'I'll be fifteen next month. Fred tells me to tell folks I'm eighteen, but you're a doctor, you'd probably know better.” 'Fred is your husband?'
'He says he wants to be soon as he gets work regular”
Sage looked through the crack in the curtain. The boy in the next room with Bradford didn't look much older than Phoebe.
Bonnie stepped close. 'If you think we've got time, I'd like to go after some clean sheets” She didn't say more. She didn't have to.
Sage nodded. 'Tell Fred to start boiling water.'
Sage began her work. With Bonnie's help, they bathed the girl and made her as comfortable as they could as the contractions grew closer together. She was young, but Phoebe was brave.
She had to be, Sage thought, to run away with Fred.
Hours passed, and Bradford brought more lamps in for light. He didn't say anything, but Sage saw the way he looked at Bonnie. The young girl on the bed was not his problem. The woman leaning over her for hours was.
When Bonnie stepped out for more water, she returned and said, 'Bradford made a potato soup and coffee. He said he'd keep it warm for whenever we have time to eat.”
'He can cook?' Sage smiled. 'Where did you find this man, Bonnie?'
'He kidnapped me,' she answered as calmly as if she'd said she'd met him at a church social.
Phoebe's next contraction drew them back to their work. A little after dawn, Sage delivered twins, one girl and one boy, both healthy.
When she went out to tell Fred, she almost didn't recognize the main room. It had been cleaned spotless. All the trash was gone. The dirt floor had been swept, and a stack of clean dishes sat on a shelf above the pump.
'Who did this?' she asked a dozing Bradford.
'You told me to keep him busy. Cleaning was all I could think of. We did laundry and chopped wood until dark, then we started on this room.' He glanced over at Fred, sleeping with his head resting on a log. 'He's a little tired.'
When she touched the boy's shoulder, he bolted upright. 'Phoebe,' he said. 'How is Phoebe?'
'She's fine. You want to see your children?'
Fred rubbed his eyes and followed her into the little room. As they marveled over their babies, Sage whispered to Bradford, 'Take Bonnie home and see that she gets some sleep, would you?'
He nodded.
'I'll stay here all day helping out. When you come to get me, bring a box of groceries and whatever you think the babies will need.'
Bradford whispered, 'It's time these two grew up.'
Sage agreed as Fred climbed in bed beside Phoebe and went to sleep. 'When I leave tonight will be soon enough.”
'Anything else I can do, Doc?'
She smiled. 'Yes, ask Elmo at the trading post if he knows where this kid can find regular work, and tell Daniel Torry to get his Bible out”
Sage spent most of the day teaching Phoebe to hold and care for her babies while the new father slept.
That evening, Bradford returned alone with all the supplies he could fit into the buggy. Apparently, Elmo got the word out, and several mothers, no longer needing cribs, donated all the things the babies would need.
Sage gave Fred both the babies and helped bring in the supplies.
She heard Bradford say to the young father. 'I brought twenty pounds of potatoes. You know how to make the soup, so make it every night when Phoebe is too busy or too tired. Before you run out of the potatoes, I'll be over to teach you how to do stew. A man, even one with a wife, needs to know how to cook a few things to survive.”
Fred nodded. 'Thanks. Mr. Summerfield.'
'You can call me Brad. You're a man now.'
Sage smiled all the way home. As they climbed out of the buggy, she had to ask, 'Where did Bonnie find such a wise man?'
He tipped his hat at the compliment and answered simply, 'She kidnapped me.'
Sage ate a few bites, then went upstairs to her little room. Someone, probably Bradford, she guessed, had collected her things from the hotel. In among them was Drummond's shirt.
She slipped into it and crawled into bed. He'd been gone two days, and she'd survived. If she was going to love him, she had to accept what he did for a living. Closing her eyes, she slept without dreams. She'd save the dreams until she was back with her man.
CHAPTER 47
DRUM RODE AS HARD AS HE COULD PUSH SATAN OVER land cold and dead with winter. When he did stop for a few hours' rest, he forced himself to think only of the count and the danger the boys were in. The memory of Will and Andy's mother all beaten and broken would have made him volunteer for the job, even if Hanover wasn't a threat to Sage. Knowing he was left no question of what had to be done.
When Drum reached the mission at Goliad, a Ranger, sleeping down by the Guadalupe River, was waiting for him. Captain Harmon had sent him with word that the guard, Luther Waddell, was released for lack of evidence. No witness could put him at or near either the raid on the Smith place or the robbery at Shelley's gambling house. Just being a guard for Hanover wasn't a crime.
'Cap had him followed,' the Ranger reported to Roak. 'He was seen walking into Shelley Lander's place. Then he disappeared. He's either still there, or he somehow slipped out after dark by boat.'
'Why'd you ride so far to tell me this?' Drum asked as they walked along the outside of the mission chapel. Hundreds of men, fighting for Texas independence, had died here, shot by a firing squad. The McMurrays had told him once that their father was among the dead. His body lay in the mass grave beyond the mission walls.
Drum swore he could feel the ghosts walking beside him, even though it had been more than twenty years since the Alamo and Goliad missions fell.
“The cap thought you might stop here to spend a night or two. He wanted you to know Luther was free.'
He didn't have to say more. This was a frequent relay point for Rangers, a place where they could pass messages without worry, a place where they could rest up if hurt or hide out if running from trouble. No one spoke of it, but Drum figured the Rangers considered themselves protected or at least watched over by the spirits of the brave buried here.
Pulling out a scrap of paper, Drum wrote three words on it. 'Give this to no one but Captain Harmon. Tell him it's from me.'
The Ranger glanced at the paper. ''I'm going in,'' he read. 'That's the message?'
Drum nodded and stepped into the shadows of the mission. The young Ranger was still asking questions when Drum crossed the yard and rode away unseen.
He rode all night and slept in places where no one would find him. As he moved, he planned. Drum hated it, but he'd have to leave Satan and go in the back way. The horse was lucky to have made it once down the steep incline without breaking a leg; he'd never make it up. On foot it would mean an extra day, but he'd risk it. He'd also have to travel light: less guns, less supplies, less prepared.
By the time he reached the foot of the incline, he'd planned every detail. He slept off and on until sundown and then began the journey up the incline and through the caves to the outskirts of the outlaw camp.
It was almost dawn when he reached the edge of the back pasture. He knew he couldn't make it across before
