Thea knew something was wrong the moment she opened the door and found Ranger Guthrie standing on her front porch. Though he tried to smile, she could see the concern in his eyes. Today, instead of being as bright as spring grass, they reminded her of a murky stream, its water darkened by submerged vegetation.
“Did you find her?”
“Possibly.” Though Thea gestured for him to enter, the Ranger remained stationary. His lips flattened, the visible effort he made to control his emotions confirming her assumption that what he had found was unpleasant. “Do you have any family near here?”
Thea felt her eyes widen with surprise. She had expected further explanations, not this odd question. Still, though she had no idea how it related to Stuart’s mother, there was no reason not to answer honestly. She shook her head. “My only family is in Ladreville—my sister, brother-in-law, and their children. Why?”
A songbird warbled to its mate, but the Ranger appeared oblivious to the melodic calls. He stood a foot away from Thea, his face as solemn as if he were a judge about to pronounce a death sentence. “I hate to do this, but I need you to come with me to Doc Harrington’s.”
Despite the grim air that clung to Ranger Guthrie, a glimmer of hope flitted through Thea. Perhaps she’d misread him. Perhaps Stuart’s mother was still alive. Why else would he want her to go to the doctor’s office?
“Is she very ill?” Although the Ranger’s expression said otherwise, Thea hoped whatever it was wasn’t serious enough to need the doctor’s care.
When she’d made her first professional call on Lydia yesterday, Lydia had echoed Belinda Allen’s relief that she’d come to Cimarron Creek, saying that the town’s doctor was old-fashioned and used techniques that often did more harm than good. Unfortunately, until Austin Goddard, the new physician who was currently in France with his family and Aimee’s mother, returned, Doc Harrington was Cimarron Creek’s only source of medical care.
The Ranger’s eyes darkened even more, and creases formed at the corners of his mouth. “There’s no easy way to say this. She’s dead. The doctor also serves as the town’s coroner.”
Dead. The word echoed through Thea’s brain. It was as she had feared: Stuart was motherless and most likely an orphan. Though she’d believed she was prepared for this possibility, having it confirmed wrenched her heart, and tears sprang to her eyes. Blinking to keep them from falling, Thea looked up at the man who’d delivered the unwelcome news. “Where did you find her?”
When he shook his head and said, “That’s not important,” Thea realized he was trying to spare her what were undoubtedly unpleasant details.
“Thank you, Ranger.”
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, momentarily lifting the shadows that had clouded his eyes. “You’re thanking me? For what?”
“For trying to shelter me.” It wasn’t the first time that had happened. Because Thea was shorter than average, men often thought she was also fragile. She wasn’t.
“I’m stronger than most people realize,” she told the Ranger, “but I appreciate your concern. Let me get my hat and gloves.” Even though it was only a few blocks to the doctor’s office, she would not go farther than her front porch unless she was properly dressed.
“I don’t doubt that you’re strong, Mrs. Michener, but this could be difficult. I want to do everything I can to make it as painless as possible.”
“Thank you again, Ranger.”
His mouth puckered as if he’d bitten into something sour. “Would you do me a favor? Would you call me Jackson?”
Thea gazed up at him, startled by the request. It was turning into a day for strange questions, but perhaps this was part of his attempt to defuse the tension that accompanied thoughts of death. “All right, and I’m Thea.”
For the first time since he’d knocked on her door, Ranger Guthrie—Jackson—appeared to relax.
Less than ten minutes later, he knocked on another door.
“Come in.” Doc Harrington was younger than Thea had expected, probably in his mid-fifties, a heavyset man with gray hair and brown eyes that looked as if he’d seen too much misery. He barely glanced at her when he opened the door, but then his head jerked, and his eyes widened with what appeared to be shock.
The doctor stood silent for a moment before muttering, “You must be the new midwife.”
Did he think she was too weak to do her job? That was the only reason Thea could imagine for the way he gazed at her. “Yes, I’m Thea Michener.” She started to murmur that she was pleased to meet him but stopped, realizing that the words would be meaningless. Thea was not pleased to meet the doctor under these circumstances.
At her side, Jackson shifted his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet, his impatience obvious. “Where is she?”
“The back room.” The doctor tipped his head to indicate the direction. “You don’t need me. Stay as long as you want.”
And so Thea walked toward the room where she’d be forced to confront what remained of Stuart’s mother. She’d seen dead bodies before, but Jackson’s obvious concern and the doctor’s unexplained reaction to meeting her made her apprehensive. This was no ordinary death, her instincts told her.
To Thea’s relief, Jackson laid his hand on the small of her back, as if he sensed that she needed that measure of comfort. When they arrived at the end of the short hallway, he reached in front of her and opened the door, revealing a room that held a desk, three bookcases, and what must be an examination table.
Jackson gestured toward the sheet-covered body that lay on the table. “Are you ready?”
Though Thea doubted she’d ever be ready, she nodded.
Carefully, Jackson pulled the sheet back, revealing only the woman’s face and throat. “Do you recognize her?”
Thea gasped as she took a step closer. No wonder the doctor had been shocked to see her. It wasn’t quite like looking in a mirror. The other woman’s nose was longer than hers, her chin a little less firm, but the woman who lay so cold and still on the table looked more like Thea than her own sister.
Instinctively, Thea’s hand moved to her own throat. There was no red gash there, no lifeblood spurting out the way it had from this woman. Thea’s instincts had been correct; this was no ordinary death. Stuart’s mother had been killed.
Still reeling from the evidence of violent death, Thea turned to Jackson. “I don’t understand. Who is she?”
“I hoped you’d be able to tell me.”
She stared at the woman again, a shiver making its way down her spine as she registered the similarities in this woman’s appearance. It was uncanny and deeply upsetting to realize that a woman who looked so much like her had been murdered.
“I’ve never seen her before,” Thea said, her voice wavering despite her best efforts to steady it. “I don’t understand how it’s possible, but we could be twins.”
Jackson nodded. “My older brothers are twins, and they look less alike than you do.”
“I’m sure she’s not my sister.” Sarah would have known if their mother had delivered two babies, and if Mama had, she would never have given one away. But that did not help explain the obvious resemblance between this woman and Thea.
“I once heard someone say that everyone has a double, but I didn’t believe it. Now I do.” It was the only explanation Thea could find.
Though Jackson was no longer touching her, he stood close enough to catch her if she fell. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and it provided a measure of comfort as her mind tried to make sense of what her eyes had seen.
“Are you sure you don’t have any relatives in Texas?” he asked. “Cousins, maybe?”
Thea started to shake her head, then reconsidered. “I can ask my sister Sarah, but as far as I know, the only relatives we had were in Pennsylvania, and they’ve all died. Both of our parents were only children with few cousins.”
Jackson nodded and covered the woman’s face again. After a brief good-bye to the doctor, he escorted Thea outside.
“What about your husband?” he asked as they descended the porch steps. “Was his family from this area?”
Thea turned her face toward the sun, trying to dispel the chill that had settled over her when she’d seen that too-familiar face. “You’re confusing me, Rang . . . Jackson. What does my husband have to do with that poor woman?”
“Probably nothing.”
“Probably!” Though Thea knew her outrage was out of proportion to his comment, she couldn’t help it. Seeing a woman who could have been her sister looking like a piece of marble left her trembling inside. It was almost like seeing her own death, and that was deeply disturbing.
Thea had heard that President Lincoln had had a dream about his own death a few days before he was killed. Was this how he had felt—both incredulous and frightened?
She clenched her fists, then released them as she tried to quell her fears. “Daniel’s been dead for more than three months. He couldn’t have killed her.”
“Of course he couldn’t have, but that’s no reason not to answer my questions, is it?” Jackson spoke slowly, his tone conciliatory.
To Thea’s surprise, his gently phrased question helped dissipate her fears. “I suppose not.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I don’t know much about his family, because Daniel was an orphan. His parents died when he was an infant, and he grew up in an orphanage near Boerne.”
Though Jackson’s eyes widened as if something in her statement had startled him, he asked only, “How did you meet him?”
Thea darted a glance at him as they turned onto Main Street. What a strange conversation. Perhaps this was Jackson’s attempt to keep her from thinking about the woman who was most likely Stuart’s mother. If so, it wasn’t succeeding—not totally—but it was helping.
“Daniel was a traveling salesman. He was trying to sell some new items to the owner of the Ladreville mercantile one day when I was there. We met, we fell in love, and we married.”
There was more to the story, of course, but Thea was not ready to tell anyone about the doubts that had crept in after she’d discovered the perfumed shirts. She would never admit how confused she’d been when she’d learned of Daniel’s death, how an inexplicable sense of relief had mingled with her grief. And so she shared only the barest details of her marriage.
Jackson slowed his steps and looked at her, concern radiating from his eyes. “It must have been difficult for you if he was always traveling.”
“But he wasn’t.” Thea shook her head, remembering how adamant Daniel had been about ending his old life once they married. “He started working at the mercantile so he didn’t have to travel so much. The only times he’d leave were when he went to San Antonio to buy supplies.” And to meet the woman who wore the same perfume as Belinda Allen.
“I see.”
The skeptical expression that flitted across Jackson’s face suggested he didn’t believe her, and that made no sense.