for someone to shut her up.
Even in the pale light, Drum could see her eyes were swollen and black, and her face was covered in dried blood. He wondered how many times in the past twelve hours the men had forced her outside and made her scream. She didn't look like she could take many more beatings. He didn't even want to think what might have happened to her inside the dugout.
When the short raider called Franky dropped her to the ground with a hard kick. Drum pulled the trigger, putting a bullet through the man's skull. A heartbeat later, he fired his pistol, sending the second man crumpling in a dead gurgle of pain. The gun in the raider's hand fired more from reflex than defense.
The dawn was silent, then he heard the woman whimpering as she crawled away from the blood pooling in the dirt and into the shadow of the lean-to.
He knew he should stay put-those were his orders-but he couldn't. Drum dropped from the rafters and lifted the woman out of the dirt. She feebly tried to fight him as he carried her back to the shadows of the lean-to.
'I've got to get you out of sight” he whispered. 'You'll be safe soon. Until then. I'm here to help”
She nodded once in understanding as he lowered her into an empty water trough and tossed two saddle blankets across it for cover.
Men pulling on their guns exploded from the cabin; Roak slipped back up into the rafters. The men around dying campfires scrambled out in their long johns, strapping on their gun belts as they stood.
He watched the gang run around like headless chickens. They examined the dead bodies and shouted guesses as to what must have happened. Before anyone could take charge, the Rangers were on top of them. A half dozen men rode in hard with bullets flying and war yells like they were a hundred strong and not outnumbered.
When the firing stopped, half of the outlaws were dead, and the other half looked like they wished they were. One Ranger had been grazed in the leg.
Roak lowered himself from the rafters again. He pulled the saddle blankets off the trough and lifted the woman out. 'It's over” he said as he carried her into the yard. 'No one is going to hurt you again. The Rangers are here”
The youth he'd seen at the Ranger station ran up to him, but when he saw the woman's face, he seemed afraid to come closer. 'Ma?' he whispered, as if he wasn't sure of her identity.
'She'll be all right,' Captain Harmon said almost convincingly enough to be believed. 'Your ma will be fine.'
The other kid Drum had seen getting water ran out of the cabin. He would have run to the woman, but his big brother stopped him.
'Where's your pa?' Drum asked the older brother.
The kid shook his head. 'He told me to ride for the Rangers. I started, but when I heard fire, I doubled back. My father was shooting at one of the raiders from the trees. He killed the man, but my father took a bullet in the stomach. It took him some time to die, but he never made a sound. I covered him with brush so no one would find his body.'
Drum heard the hint of an English accent in the older boy's words, but there was no time to ask questions.
Captain Harmon gave orders to round up the outlaws and tie them to their horses. He'd been a Ranger for ten years and had hardened too much to offer the boys comfort. Times were harsh in this land. Words couldn't change that fact, he often said.
Drum didn't have to ask about what to do with the woman. Turner Harmon wouldn't know the answer. It wasn't his problem. If she'd been dead, they would have buried her, but his worry was getting the raiders to justice, not caring for the injured. He needed all his Rangers to move the prisoners.
Drum turned to the older boy. 'You got family near? Or friends?'
The kid shook his head. 'That's the reason we picked this place. No one for miles and miles.'
'You got a wagon?'
He nodded.
'Then hitch it up.' Roak looked at the younger brother. 'You go get all the blankets and any canteens of water you can round up. I'll ride with you to Galveston and see if we can't get your mother some care. I know a doctor staying at the Patterson Hotel who might be able to help.”
Both boys seemed grateful to have something to do. They followed orders. Within minutes, the wagon was ready. Roak lowered the woman in among the blankets as the boys climbed in. The youngest carried a huge family Bible.
When he swung into his saddle, Turner said, 'We can't wait on her, Roak. She'd be safer here than alone out on the road.”
He hadn't said the words, but Roak knew the captain thought she was already dead.
'I'll ride with them” Roak answered.
Captain Harmon shook his head, then turned and ordered the Rangers to mount up.
Drum tied his horse, Satan, to the back, knowing the wagon would never keep up, but he'd do the best he could. He handed the youngest boy his bandanna. 'Keep this wet and covering her face. Maybe it'll help some. Give her water any time she'll take it.'
One by one, the Rangers passed him without a word. He had a feeling they thought he was a fool. The woman had two small sons. Busted up like she was, even if she lived, her life would be one step above hell. It almost seemed kinder to let her die.
As the last man passed, he slowed and handed his canteen to Roak. 'You might be needing this” the young Ranger said. 'It's water laced with a bit of whiskey.”
Drum took the canteen. 'I'll get the canteen back to you, Daniel.”
Daniel Torry nodded once and spurred his horse forward.
CHAPTER 5
SAGE SPENT THE DAY SHOPPING FOR CLOTHES SHE'D need when she returned to Whispering Mountain. Galveston, the second largest city in Texas, seemed made for such a day with endless shops, food vendors on every street corner, and the sun shining so bright everything sparkled. She found herself wishing the sunbeams could reach deep down to her heart.
She'd left, a girl wanting to change the world, and returned, a widow knowing she could change nothing. The heavy veil of sorrow she'd been surrounded in for months seemed to lift only a fraction now and then.
The trousers and plaid cotton shirts she'd stored away for her return didn't seem right somehow. That young, adventurous crusader was gone. She bought tailored split riding skirts and fine, lace-trimmed blouses, careful to pick blues and browns, no black. She also bought boots and jackets made for warmth not fashion. Her life was twisting again, and all she felt she could do was circle with the current.
Bonnie, who had trouble finding anything to fit, walked with her. She bought little, but she ordered a few dresses that looked more like uniforms than proper dresses. She said that she might be going into the wilderness, but that was no excuse for not being a professional. She also ordered a dozen heavy cotton aprons for herself. In one store she let Sage buy her another traveling suit. The first one she'd worn since they left Boston was of such fine material it still looked new. The second suit was of hardier material still, made for their fall journey to Sage's family ranch.
By late afternoon, they stopped to eat supper on the wide porch of the hotel. Bonnie disappeared to check on her cat, while Sage relaxed into the sounds of an evening in Galveston: people rushing home, music pouring out of saloons, children laughing.
When Bonnie returned, Sage asked, 'Are our stowaways all right?'
Bonnie nodded. 'That mutt seems happy to just stay in the corner of your room and sleep. Bullet, however, is used to the run of the place. She's not too happy about having to stay in my room.'
They ordered, and as they had almost every night. Bonnie questioned her about what it would be like when they got to Whispering Mountain. The plans to change a house the family owned in town into a doctor's office made the nurse's eyes sparkle. She'd told Sage of the huge old home her parents left her. Everything was rotting from
