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.
