Fort Worth. Now, rest and get well.”
The strain of so much talking and her first meal since the accident overcame Beth. As she drifted off to sleep, she mumbled the same words.
“Fort Worth. I must reach Fort Worth.”
***
The early-morning sunshine was warm against Beth’s face as she slowly opened her eyes and glanced around the hotel room.
It was then that she saw Tanner sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed. The muscular man was sprawled out, asleep, in a chair close to her. His brown hair grazed his forehead in a curl that defied being combed away. His eyebrows were bushy and dark, and a full mustache covered his upper lip from view. He had the look of a man who even in his sleep looked more like an outlaw than a banker.
Gone were the stiff, formal banker’s clothes. He was dressed differently, and somehow his clothes seemed more fitting than the three-piece suit and bowler hat he’d worn previously.
He still wore the same black vest and white shirt, but the tie and hat were gone, and his pants fit his muscular thighs and legs. A worn gun belt was slung low across his hips, the holster filled with not one but two Colt Navy revolvers.
Beth recognized those guns. They were from the Civil War. Confederate guns. She shivered, determined not to think about the war. Yet how had Tanner gotten those handguns? Certainly he had enlisted just like every other available man. The question was: Which side had he fought on?
She didn’t care as long as he took her to Fort Worth. She had to get there and marry the man who had sent for her or starve.
Bits and pieces of the last week started to drift back. After leaving Jonesboro, Georgia, she’d caught the train in Atlanta and headed west. In Houston, she’d taken a stagecoach bound for San Antonio, where they’d changed drivers and continued on toward Fort Worth. Her mind slowed, and she swallowed. On the stage had been two passengers, an older woman and Tanner, who now sat sleeping in a chair across from her.
Bandits had chased the coach until they pulled over. She remembered getting out of the stage and then a loud explosion.
She stirred restlessly in the bed, and a sharp pain stabbed her in the shoulder. She tried to rise, but a moan escaped her as pain ripped through the tender flesh of her shoulder, and she remembered. She’d been shot.
Mr. Tanner’s eyes opened, and she stared into the bluest gaze she’d seen since leaving Dixie. A tremor of awareness rippled through her, yet she felt almost fearful. She was alone with a strange man in a hotel room, hurt and eager to get to Fort Worth.
“Good morning. How do you feel?” he questioned.
“Sore, tired. What happened?” she asked.
“We were riding on the same stage when it was robbed,” he said, brushing his hair back. “The stage went on to Fort Worth. I brought you back here to San Antonio, to the doctor.”
“Oh, no! What day is it?” she asked fear paralyzing her.
“Tuesday.”
“Oh, my God! I’m not going to be there on time.” She tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed but found they felt more like dead weights than her own legs.
“Whoa! Just lie back. You’re not going anywhere.”
Beth lay her head back against the pillow, the tears hovering right below her lashes. This was her last chance at happiness, at a respectable future with a husband and a family. She had invested all her money into getting to Fort Worth. Now she was broke, destitute, hurt, and inside a strange hotel room with a man who looked more like an outlaw than a nursemaid.
Bitter disappointment at once again being dealt a bad hand in the card game of life consumed her. It wasn’t fair.
“It’ll take a while for that shoulder to heal, but you’ll be okay,” Tanner said gruffly.
Beth could barely nod her head. She knew if she opened her mouth, the tears would start to flow, and a sob would escape.
She swallowed hard and rapidly blinked back the tears. She couldn’t think about this right