His hat brim pulled low over his dark, squinted eyes, a troubled Brit Caruth crouched on his heels in a distant lowland pasture of The Regent. He was alone on this blistering July morning.
Brit reached down and scooped up a handful of dry, crumbling soil, then let it slowly sift through his gloved fingers. He shook his head, exhaled heavily and rose slowly to his feet.
Hands resting lightly on his hips, he stood in the desert wasteland with the west Texas wind and dust blowing into his face and pressing his shirt against his chest. The useless sea of sand had, until this summer, been a verdant valley pasture carpeted with gamma grass and stocked with pure-blooded Polangus and Hereford stock.
Now the huge pasture was silent empty.
The cattle that had once grazed contentedly here had been shipped to market at a loss or moved to higher pastures where patches of scrub grass still grew and shallow water holes still offered some degree of relief from constant thirst. Some of the cattle had perished. Hundreds, maybe thousands more would die if it didn’t rain soon.
Water was a bigger problem than grass.
The ground water here was too deep for wind-mills, and the closest unoccupied water hole was the Hueco Tanks, midway between the Guadalupes and the Rio Grande. The ranch was solely dependent on adequate rainfall. Without it the land, the cattle, the people could not survive.
This drought had been a long one.
It was now late July and no rain had fallen in months. Not a drop since early spring. Brit couldn’t recall so much as a sprinkle since just before the April roundup. God, if he’d known then what he knew now, he would have sent fifteen or twenty thousand more head to market.
This was not the first time the area had suffered from a lack of rain. Brit could remember a particularly long drought that had stretched all across southwest Texas, but that was before The Regent was stocked with blooded cattle. Back then, when he was young and just learning to be a cowboy, scrubby longhorns had dominated the Texas cattle country. They had filled the many pastures of The Regent the clacking of their horns a constant sound on the open range.
They were a breed apart, those ugly, gangly creatures. Tough, strong-legged, the longhorns could survive almost anything. They could be driven ten to twelve miles a day for a hundred unremitting days or more through heat and cold, drought or deluge, across mountains or plains, or rivers that weren’t bridged.
Too bad these pampered Angus and Herefords weren’t a little more like those rugged Texas longhorns.
Brit tipped his head back and looked up.
Not a cloud in the sky.
No hope of rain.
He sighed, reached into his shirt pocket and took out a long, thin cigar. He stuck the cheroot between his lips and lit it, cupping his hands around the tiny match flame. He shook out the match, inhaled deeply of the cigar smoke and gazed wistfully across the endless barren acres of the land he loved, to El Capitán’s towering peak standing sentinel in brilliant morning sunshine.
From where Brit stood he could pick out the cow trails up Guadalupe Peak and Pine Canyon that were cut—he had helped cut them—into the mountains to allow the cowmen on horseback to reach the stock in the high country.
If he had ridden up those mountain trails once, he had done it a thousand times.
He had, he reminisced, done it all on this immense Texas spread. He had spent his entire adult life riding line, bogging, haying, rounding up cattle, plowing fireguards, feeding cattle, freighting supplies. You name it, he’d done it. And, hopefully, he would continue to do all those things until he was too old and too tired to mount a horse.
Brit blew out a plume of cigar smoke, then, thinning his lips over his teeth, whistled for Captain. The gray’s ears pricked up and he immediately came to his master. He nuzzled Brit’s shoulder, and Brit smiled and affectionately patted his jaw.
Brit dropped his cigar, crushed it out beneath his boot heel and swung up into the saddle for the long ride south to the Agua Fria division headquarters of The Regent. He planned to spend at least three or four days at Agua Fria, the area hardest hit by the drought because of its location down near the border.
An extended visit to Agua Fria would serve two purposes.
First, he could work alongside and reassure the anxious vaqueros that no one would be losing his job on The Regent.
Second, and more importantly, it gave Brit an excuse to stay away from the mansion.
On that same sweltering July morning, Anna smilingly greeted Dr. McCelland and ushered him directly back to LaDextra’s ground floor sitting room. She then left the two of them alone, closing the door behind her, but she paced just outside.
Anna was worried about LaDextra.
Since the Fourth of July party more than three weeks ago, LaDextra had seemed uncommonly tired, had spent a great deal of time resting in her room. Which wasn’t like her. Yet every time Anna asked if anything was wrong, if she was feeling weak or ill, LaDextra assured her that she was fine, just fine.
Anna stopped pacing when the door opened and Dr. McCelland said, “You can come in now, Anna. We’re finished here.”
Anna anxiously hurried inside and straight to LaDextra’s chair. Dropping to her knees beside the chair and taking the older woman’s hand in both of her own, Anna said, “Tell me the truth, are you okay? Are you really feeling well?”
LaDextra squeezed her hand. “Fit as a fiddle.”
Skeptical, Anna, glancing at the doctor, asked, “Then what is Dr. McCelland doing here again so soon after his last visit?”
“You tell her, Doctor,” said LaDextra.
The doctor smiled, took a chair and, leaning forward, explained, “As I may have mentioned to you before, Anna, I make regular calls on all the division headquarters of The Regent. Today I’m due at the Columbine. So I just stopped by here on the way.”
“Satisfied?” LaDextra asked, smiling down at Anna.
Nodding, Anna released LaDextra’s hand and rose to her feet. “I suppose.” Then she asked, “How far is it from here to the Columbine?”
“Five, six miles,” said the doctor.
“Take me with you!” Anna said impulsively.
The doctor blinked. LaDextra, starting to frown, asked, “Whatever for, child? Dr. McCelland will likely stay at the Columbine all day. You’d get very bored sitting around waiting for him.”
Anna said, “But I wouldn’t just sit around and wait. I would help out. Don’t you see, LaDextra, The Regent is my home and I love it as you do.” LaDextra smiled, pleased with the statement. Anna continued, “I love this ranch and the people on it, and I’d like to be more useful, to help out in some small way.”
“Why, honey, you’re a great help and comfort to me,” said LaDextra.
As if she hadn’t spoken, Anna said, “When I was at the convent, the sisters taught me to tend the sick, and I became quite good at it.” She looked anxiously from one to the other. “Don’t you see, I could assist Dr. McCelland. I’m not the least bit squeamish. I’ve dressed wounds and bathed frail bodies and held the hands of the dying and—and surely an extra pair of hands would come in handy.”
“Oh, Anna, I don’t know,” LaDextra said thoughtfully, “it’s hot as Hades out there and—”
“I don’t mind a little heat.” Anna quickly assured her. “Oh, please say yes. Please. I want to go.”
LaDextra sighed heavily. “You’ll wear a hat and take a canteen of cold water?”
“Absolutely,” Anna promised. “Then I may go? You don’t mind?”
LaDextra looked from Anna to the doctor. “What about it, Doctor? Would she be in your way?”
The doctor needlessly cleared his throat. He said, “On the contrary, I am sure Anna would be a great asset, very helpful.”
“Then it’s settled!” Anna declared excitedly, leaping to her feet. “I’ll go change right now.”
A half hour later Anna and Dr. McCelland were riding through the bushy slag below the Pine Spring Canyon trailhead, heading due east. Her hat brim pulled low over her eyes, heavy hair tucked up under the hat, Anna felt the hot winds stinging her face, the perspiration pooling between her breasts.
She didn’t mind.
The heat, the wind, the ride made her feel alive again. It was the first time she’d felt anything since she had come down the stairs the morning after the Fourth of July celebration and seen the unmistakable indifference in Brit’s dark eyes. Since that horrible moment she had been imprisoned inside the house, hardly leaving her room, afraid that she might bump into Brit. Thankfully, she hadn’t. She supposed it was because he was rarely home of late.
LaDextra bemoaned the fact that Brit was never home for dinner anymore, that she never got to see him. She blamed his absence on the worsening drought, saying that Brit, as the general manager of the entire operation, was working even harder than usual this summer. He was, she explained—although Anna hadn’t asked—dividing his time among the four division headquarters. It fell to him to keep the worried cowboys’ spirits up, to reassure them that they would all get through this terrible drought together, that The Regent would survive and prosper.
Anna always politely listened as LaDextra extolled Brit’s unflagging dedication to the ranch’s operations. But she doubted he was all that dedicated. She suspected his nights were not spent in a narrow cot in some distant bunkhouse, but in the comfortable bed—and possessive arms—of the red-haired Beverly Harris.
“Anna?”
Brought back to the present, Anna, realizing her sorrel mare, Dancer, had slowed to a walk, blinked at Dr. McCelland and said, “I’m sorry, I—”
“I said we’re here.” Pointing, he directed her attention to a long, low adobe building a hundred yards ahead, baking in the hot Texas sunshine. Baking along with the sand-colored building were the ailing people gathered there, anxiously awaiting the doctor’s visit.
Their eyes lit up when they saw the kind physician, whom they trusted to make them feel better. A mannerly bunch, they lined up to patiently wait their turn as Anna followed Dr. McCelland inside the adobe to the large, sterile room where he treated his patients.
Minutes after their arrival, Anna found herself elbow deep in coughing, feverish children, worried young mothers, bruised and battered vaqueros and cowboys.
Her hat tossed aside, sleeves rolled up, Anna worked tirelessly alongside the gentle doctor, cleansing dirt-and-gravel-encrusted abrasions, assisting as he set broken arms and legs, holding crying babies as he gave them medication.
The work was so demanding, so steady, there was not a single minute when the examining room was empty. The hours rushed by in a blur. In fact, the summer sun was slipping toward the horizon when the very last patient, a leathery old cowhand with a badly swollen thumb infected from an imbedded prickly pear sticker, was finally tended and sent on his way.
Anna had been so busy she hadn’t had time to think about anything other than helping Dr. McCelland. It was a welcome respite from her own personal pain. For the past several grueling hours her heart had not hurt, because she had been too busy to think about Brit.
Nor had she realized that she was tired. Now her back was aching badly between her shoulder blades and her legs felt as if she couldn’t possibly stand for another minute.
She must have looked as exhausted as she felt because the concerned doctor, urging her down onto a straight-backed chair, said, “I shouldn’t have brought you here, Anna. It was too hard on you. I should have known better.”
“No, no it wasn’t,” she argued. “Please, Dr. McCelland, don’t tell LaDextra you think I’m not up to it, because I am, really I am. This day has meant so much to me. I feel so peaceful and happy and, yes, tired, but a good kind of tired. Can you understand that?”
Standing above her, his arms crossed over his white-jacketed chest he smiled and said, “Yes, I can. Caring for the sick is a rewarding occupation. But I’m afraid that you are too fragile to—”
“I am not.” She jumped to her feet to face him. “I’m a strong, healthy woman and I want to do this. It means so much to me. Please, say you’ll allow me to accompany you to the other division headquarters.”
“But, Anna,” he explained, “that’s out of the question. Why, Agua Fría, the southern division headquarters, is a good twenty miles from the ranch house. It can’t be done in a day. You can’t ride all that way, tend the patients and come back the same night.”
“Oh,” she said, her brows knitting. “No, of course you can’t…. So, when you visit the Agua Fría, do you spend the night?”
“Yes, I usually ride out late the afternoon before, spend the night, then get up early and treat my patients.”
“Then I will spend the night, too. Surely they have facilities to put up guests.”
“Hardly the kind of quarters you are used to, Anna.”
“You’re forgetting, Dr. McCelland, until a few months ago the quarters I was used to were nothing but a cot on the floor behind the convent kitchen. Before that, when I lived with the Apache, my accommodations were the hard, cold ground, without benefit of blanket or pillow. I am no hothouse orchid, Doctor.”
“No,” he said, gazing at her with frank admiration, “I guess you’re not.” For a long moment he said nothing more, just looked at her. Then, his voice soft, he said, “Anna, I—I…” Impulsively, he raised a hand to touch her face, leaned close and started to kiss her.
“No,” Anna said gently, turning her head slightly. “Don’t, please….”
“I’m sorry.” He immediately dropped his hand and stepped back.
She turned back to face him, and looking directly into his eyes, she told him, “I think the world of you, Doctor, you know I do, but I…”
He nodded, said, “It’s Brit, isn’t it?”
“Brit? Brit Caruth? Certainly not! Never in a million years. Whatever gave you such a ludicrous idea? Good Lord, if he were the last man on earth, I wouldn’t—”
Interrupting, Dr. McCelland said softly, “I saw the way he looked at you at the Fourth of July celebration.”
Anna shrugged slender shoulders. “Well, I can’t help it if he—”
“And I saw the way you looked at him.” Anna gave no reply. She lowered her head. The doctor again apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that. Forgive me. What’s between you and Brit is none of my concern and I swear to you that I’ll never mention it again.” He paused, then quickly changed the subject. “If LaDextra will allow it, I look forward to having you work with me in the days and weeks to come.”
Anna slowly raised her eyes to meet his. She caught the wistful expression in his light eyes. Then it was gone and he smiled at her. He looked amazingly fresh and boyish despite the long, hard day, and Anna wondered sadly why things couldn’t be different. Why couldn’t she feel about this kind, caring physician the way she felt about Brit Caruth?
She sighed wearily and said, “Be my friend, Dr. McCelland.”
“I am your friend, Anna,” he replied. “I will always be. Now I’d better get you home before LaDextra sends the ranch guards out looking for us.”