Chapter 19 #2
“If you say so, Miss Scott.” Murky blue eyes drank her in beneath the shade of his finely woven topper. “I’m no expert rancher. Spent too much time studying medicine and helping my father manage his cotton plantation, but I’ve heard cattle can be ornery at times.”
“True, but he has an experienced cowhand with him.” Did the doctor feel himself superior to Ben?
“Mr. McKenzie is an educated man like yourself. He was in the newspaper business before the war. An editor, I think.” Why did she feel the incessant need to defend Ben to this man?
And how, after seven weeks in Texas, had Ben managed to not tell her exactly what he did at the paper?
“So he’s a working man?”
“Don’t all men work?”
“Some of them have to work just to scrub by. Others work for the betterment of their community and beyond.”
“Mr. McKenzie’s father is a part owner of the paper.”
“That accounts for it, then.”
“Accounts for what?”
“Him rising to the position of editor.”
She jabbed a hand to her hip. “Dr. LeBeau—”
“I’m teasing you, Miss Scott. Testing your willingness to defend the man.” His smile returned. “And you have done me a grave disservice—”
“I have not.”
“On the contrary, you have denied me the pleasure of properly greeting you.” He held out his gloved hand.
The man was flirting. She rolled her eyes. Whether or not he deserved a greeting, he was the one who’d sat beside her when her father lay dying and the one who’d helped Ben get on his feet. She rubbed her hand on her wadded apron and extended her ungloved fingers.
The epitome of a Southern gentleman, he bent at the waist and brushed his thin, smooth lips to her knuckles. His well-trimmed goatee and mustache tickled her skin. A tingle ran up her arm. With a wiggle, she slipped her hand free.
He straightened. “I brought you a present.”
“Sir, I’m not in the habit of accepting gifts.”
A shadow of a frown flickered across his fine features. “From whom?” He pivoted to the gig. “From your doctor? From a friend? Surely, you are not so endeared to your house guest that you would decline an offer of friendship from a gentleman who has been in your acquaintance for months.”
What was he suggesting about her and Ben? She jutted her chin. “I’m not endeared to anyone.”
“Glad to hear it.” He retrieved a rectangular package, about the size of a book, wrapped in brown paper and string. “Though to be honest, I hope to remedy that.”
She blinked wide. Was the man talking about himself?
He motioned to the cane-back chairs on the porch. “May we sit? I don’t wish to keep you out in the sun, and I’ve had a long ride.”
Ten miles. To call on her? Her legs wobbled as if they’d turned to sponges. “Certainly. Forgive my manners.” She climbed the two steps to the wide oak planks. “Have a seat, and I’ll fetch us a couple of glasses of water.”
“Much obliged.” He tipped his hat and glanced around the yard. “Where’s the boy, Charlie? I figured he’d be about the place.”
Too bad he wasn’t. “He’s out hunting. He should be back anytime.” The sooner the better, to make this visit more proper.
“Hopefully, he’ll bring you supper.” His voice flattened. He turned to his bay Morgan at the hitching post. “If you don’t mind, I’ll tend to my horse, draw her a bucket from your well, while you fetch our water.”
She agreed and headed inside. In the privacy of her kitchen, Cora closed the door behind her and the shutters, as well.
No telling where this man might drift. This wasn’t quite the Dr. LeBeau she’d come to know.
While he’d always been gentlemanly and amicable, he was usually more distant and guarded.
But he had held her hand when she’d come to seek help for Ben, and then previously at her father’s death.
However, those had been attempts to comfort, hadn’t they?
She tossed off her hat and unbuttoned her dress one notch below her collarbone, the back and collar dampened with sweat.
But here he was calling on her. Her stomach swayed, not in the pleasant flutter Ben set off every time his eyes lingered on her. No, this was more of a clench.
She poured water from the pitcher into the washbasin and dampened a cloth, washing her face and neck. In the back yard, Jack barked. Maybe he wasn’t quite sure of the doctor’s intentions either.
She should welcome Dr. LeBeau’s interest. Frank Taylor was her last beau, and that had been over five years ago. Dr. LeBeau was handsome in a slender, angular sort of way, well-educated, a man of means, and well-respected. A man who’d ride through the night to help a patient.
What better defense against her stupid heart’s rebellious inclinations toward a certain hazel-eyed, dark-haired Yankee who had invaded her life and showed little inclination to depart from it? If only she could be so sensible.
Collar rebuttoned and stray strands secured into her braid once more, she proceeded down the wide hall with a small pecan-wood tray, balancing two glasses and two saucers heaped with buttered cornbread.
“Smells heavenly.” Dr. LeBeau accepted a saucer and a glass.
She scooted a small wicker table between them and sat.
The mystery gift lay across his lap as he spoke of his weeks in Dallas, between bites. During her time in the kitchen, he’d removed his hat. His dark hair looped in a wave away from his forehead instead of mirroring the flattened pattern of the hat brim. Did the man have a comb up his sleeve?
Dabbing his mouth, he handed her the package.
Setting her empty saucer aside, she loosened the string and unfolded the wrapping to reveal a tea brick. Stars decorated the top of a black rectangle of leaves pressed solid as wood, an engraving of a garden gate flanked by trees covered the middle, and Chinese letters lined the bottom.
“All the way from China by way of England.” He studied her reaction. “I have it on good report that it’s the finest available in the port of Galveston.”
“Thank you.” She trailed her fingers over the embossed design. “I love tea, and it’s been years since I’ve had any as fine as this. Before the war. Before the frontier.”
He settled back in his chair and hooked his thumb in his waistcoat pocket. “You’re welcome. I’m pleased to give you something you can enjoy. And I’m thankful to have been able to acquire it before the Yanks snatched it up.”
“In Galveston?”
“Yes, I had business there. Not a place I’d recommend traveling to any time soon.
It’s crawling with bluecoats wanting to assert their authority over Texans.
Not the same sort as the Federal soldiers I saw on the battlefield.
The occupiers are more like the bottom of the barrel, not much more than a drunken mob when they’re off duty.
Thankfully, they keep mostly to the coastal cities for now. ”
“Surely, they cannot all be that bad.”
“In my opinion, the ladies of Galveston cannot walk the street safely. The town leaders have asked that the soldiers be unarmed when off duty—not that the officers will listen.” He sipped his water.
“But I do not mean to disparage all Yankees. I’m sure your brother was a fine man.
And no doubt, Mr. McKenzie has good intentions in wanting to keep his commitment to his friend.
It’s regrettable that the man’s time in Andersonville weakened his health and will. ”
She lifted her chin. “Mr. McKenzie has recovered quite nicely thanks to the quinine you provided. He’s worked hard to fix up the outbuildings around the ranch. He’s the reason the gate is secure once again and the corral is no longer falling down in sections.”
“That’s excellent.” He smoothed his fingers over his mustache. “Most opium eaters don’t get past the initial two or three weeks of abstaining.”
“Opium eater? Ben…Mr. McKenzie is no such thing.” She bristled.
“I apologize. From what you’ve told me, he’s managed to stick with the milder version. Laudanum. And now that he’s made it beyond the first couple of months, the odds are, he’ll soldier through many more weeks, even months, or a year before a setback.”
“Ben is not…” She stood. “I’d rather not discuss this anymore.”
“Certainly.” He rose to his feet. “Please forgive me for overstepping, Miss Scott. I wouldn’t mention it if I didn’t feel that you’ve taken him under your wing like that pup in the back yard.
You have a generous heart, and you loved your brother.
You want to do right by his good friend.
” He tugged on his lapels. “I…I don’t want to see you hurt.
From the little I know of your life, I understand you’ve suffered much loss.
” His voice dipped to a gentle rumble, like a creek flowing over rocks.
She gripped her hands together. Sweat stuck her chemise to her armpits. “But isn’t it possible Ben…Mr. McKenzie is cured? Haven’t there been cases where a man has given up laudanum for the rest of his life?”
Air leaked out of his lungs. “Yes. There have been such cases. Though rare, it’s possible. But are you willing to take that risk?”
“What risk?” She jabbed a hand to her hip.
“The man is helping me get my ranch in order. Nothing more.” She snatched up the empty saucers and the tea.
“If you’ll excuse me.” She marched into the house.
If the man had come here to run down Ben, he could go home.
And what did he know of her feelings toward Ben? She didn’t even have a clue herself.
She clanked the plates onto the work table. Arthur LeBeau was no friend of Ben’s. But he was right about one thing. Ben wasn’t cured. Not if he was whispering about laudanum in his sleep. Nausea rolled through her. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t become attached. And what had she done?
Footsteps halted at the threshold. She stiffened.
“Forgive me, Miss Scott. I didn’t intend to upset you.”
“I’m fine.” She turned and folded her hands in front of her, fighting the urge to cross her arms. “It’s just that Mr. McKenzie was Jeb’s friend.
My brother loved him like a brother. I want him to succeed in his battle.
If you truly want to help, perhaps you can tell me if there’s any remedy that would bolster his recovery. ”
He stood with one hand behind his back, the other resting against the jamb.
“If I knew of any such cure, my bank account would be full, for many would need it. But I’ll offer some advice.
Of the cases I’ve known, the cravings win out when the patient hits a rough spot.
The strong can endure it when life is going well, but when setbacks or calamity come, old habits rear their head with a vengeance.
” He cocked his eyebrows. “My other advice? Your will cannot conquer it for him. Victory or defeat rests with him. But I reckon you already know that. From…past family experience.”
She flinched. She knew it all too well. Her mind, her heart, and her youth bore the scars.
He cleared his throat and glanced down at his boots.
“My father is no angel either. Only, instead of the bottle, his vice is his obsession with controlling the lives of his family members. If he and I got along, I’d have opened up my medical practice in Columbus near his plantation instead of Dallas. ”
She gnawed the inside of her cheek. “I…I’m sorry about your father.”
He shrugged. “He’s a small part of my life.” His gaze fixed upon her. “But you are the one I’m concerned about. That is why I’ve expressed myself so pointedly.”
“I thank you for your concern, but there is no need—”
“I’ve thought of you much since our last meeting.” He drew his hand from behind his back. In his fingers, he held a thin book with an embossed red cover. “I brought this as a token of my affection. Proof that you have taken possession of my thoughts, even when I am far away.”
Her throat tightened. “Dr. LeBeau—”
“Arthur. Please. It would give me great pleasure if you’d consent to call me by my given name out of friendship.
That’s all I ask for now. That and the right to call on you.
” He stepped a few feet into the room and held the book out to her.
“I saw this copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets in a Dallas mercantile.
I was walking along thinking of you, and there it was in the window.
I’ve had my own copy of years. I’d like to share the beauty of poetry with you. ”
Romantic. But did she want a peek into the interior of this man’s heart? Her brow furrowed. Not a door she wanted to open. At least not yet. “I appreciate the gesture, Dr. LeBeau.”
“Arthur.” His eyes glistened as he extended his hand to her, without coming closer.
She stared at the book. “You said friendship.” She picked up the tea brick from the table and hugged it to her chest as if it might ward off further intrusion.
“Friendship.” He smiled, as smooth as honey dripping from a spoon.
“I’ll leave the sonnets in your parlor on my way out.
A gift in waiting, so to speak.” He withdrew his hand.
“And if I could humbly beg an open invitation to come calling? Perhaps next time, I could bring my chess set. Do you play chess, Miss Scott? May I call you Cora?”
She tightened her hold on the tea. Next time, she was going to have Charlie at the house with them. “I play chess.” It sounded innocent enough, but this was the man who adorned his desk with a statue of a gladiator wrestling the lion. Which one was he?
Either way, he was nothing like her father.