Love and Glory: The Coltrane Saga, Book 3 (52 page)

He knew he was going to see trouble for this, but he had to ask. “Is she any good?”

“Yeah, she’s good!” The nurse folded her arms across her chest. “You want to know anything else?” she asked irritably. “I got a patient to tend to.”

“What’s her name? She’s treating my friend.”

“Dr. Musgrave. Your friend is in good hands. Ask anybody she’s ever treated, male or female.” She turned once more, then paused to flash him an arrogant leer. “I don’t like your attitude, mister. If you ever come in here as a patient, just hope you don’t wind up with me for a nurse.”

“Don’t worry,” he muttered, turning away. What kind of place was this? A woman doctor and a nurse who acted like a man!

Gilbert had come in and was watching him, snickering.

“What are you laughing about?” Travis demanded hotly, ready to take out his frustration on the handiest person.

“You’ve met your match with that woman, Travis.” He nodded at the closed door. “That’s Miss Cannon. Her patients lovingly refer to her as Cannonball. She’s hell.”

Travis silenced him with a wave. “I don’t care, Sacks. I’m worried about Sam. I want the best care for him.” His eyes narrowed and he stared thoughtfully at the green wooden floor. Something wasn’t right.

He held out his hand to Gilbert. “I could use another drink if you don’t mind.”

They sat down on the wooden benches lining the hallway. There being nothing left to say, they fell silent, finishing the whiskey. Travis propped his elbows on his knees, his face resting on his palms, staring at the hardwood floor. Absently, he thought of Marilee waiting back at the site. Someone would see to it that she got home all right in a wagon. She didn’t look good at all. It would have been best for everyone had she not become pregnant. She didn’t seem healthy enough to carry a child.

It was not, he silently declared, that he did not care for her. He did. But he just didn’t want to be married to her. Well, he sighed wearily, it was too late for that.

At the sound of footsteps clicking down the hallway, Travis glanced up sharply. The woman in white was coming. Gilbert had slumped down on the bench and was sound asleep, snoring softly. “Are you with the man who was in the mining accident?” She approached Travis, her brow furrowed.

Travis could only stare. His heart refused to beat, lungs refused to breathe. He felt himself growing dizzy. There was a ringing in his ears.

“Sir”—her impatient voice cut through the gray mist enshrouding him—“sir, are you with the man who was in the mining accident?”

“Yes, yes,” he gasped, struggling to stand up.

“He has some broken ribs,” she was saying, gazing at him strangely. “We will continue to keep a close watch on him to see if other problems develop. You may see him for a few moments now, and then he needs to rest.”

She turned to leave, but his arm, acting on its own, shot out to grab her. “Who are you?” he screamed suddenly, unable to control his voice. “Goddamn it, who
are
you?”

“Let me go!” she cried, jerking away angrily, her voice breaking. “What is wrong with you? Are you drunk?”

He gripped her tighter. “I want to know who you are!” he demanded, pulling her face up closer. “Tell me who you are!”

Gilbert had awakened and leaped to his feet. “Travis, what’re you doing? Let go!” He began to pull at Travis’ arm but Travis only tightened his grip, staring at the doctor without blinking.

Doors opened and people came running. The first to arrive was Miss Cannon, who slammed her beefy arms against Travis and knocked him off balance just long enough that he lost his hold on the terrified woman. “Don’t pay him no mind, Doc,” she roared. “He just don’t like lady doctors.”

“I assure you”—the doctor straightened, smoothed her skirt, and patted her red-gold hair, which was twisted back in a severe bun—“that I am quite competent. If you feel strongly adverse to my treating your friend, sir, then I shall take myself off his case and refer him to one of the men doctors.”

She turned to go. Travis lunged forward, but the nurse and Gilbert held him back. “Just tell me who you are!” he screamed as she ran down the hall. “I just want to know your name.”

She turned around slowly to stare at him, her violet eyes dark. He moaned. It was the eyes that had done it, the eyes. Only one woman in the whole world had purple eyes!

“I’m Dr. Musgrave,” she whispered, then turned and hurried away.

Travis slumped, suddenly unable to stand. He stumbled to the bench and sat. Nurse Cannon shook her head and hissed, “I oughtta throw you out of here. Another outburst like that, and you’ll be barred from this hospital. You might even get yourself arrested.”

“Forget it!” Travis snapped, standing as quickly as he had sat. “I’m going to see Sam before I leave. The doctor said I could.”

As Nurse Cannon led them to Sam, Gilbert sighed and murmured, “I’ve never seen you act this way.”

Travis decided not to try to explain. There was no way to explain about the red-gold hair and those violet eyes.

The nurse led them up a flight of stairs to a ward filled with beds. The room was quiet and almost totally dark. “He’s in the third bed on the left, near the window,” she whispered. You make any noise and wake up any of the patients, and you will go to jail.” Then she strode from the room.

Travis told Gilbert to wait outside. “I want to see him alone.” He moved to the bed and found Sam lying on his back, eyes closed. Crouching on the floor beside the bed, Travis reached out and gently touched his shoulder. “Sam. Sam. Can you hear me?” Travis whispered.

Sam’s eyelids fluttered open and Travis could see the tears glittering. Sam’s lips moved silently for a moment, and then, in anguish, Sam moaned, “I saw her, Travis. I was going to tell you today, but when I heard you and Marilee talking about the baby”—he paused to catch his breath, then went on raggedly—“I couldn’t. It’s best you didn’t know, but you saw her. I know you saw her. I can see it in your face.”

Travis’ head dropped. “It can’t be her, Sam. She just looks like her. She didn’t know me at all.”

Sam struggled to sit up but fell back. “She didn’t know me, either, but it was her, Travis. I don’t understand, but that woman is Kitty!”

The silence hung between them. Finally Travis stared down at Sam and said, “Yes. It’s Kitty. God made only one woman that beautiful.” His voice broke.

They were silent a little longer, and then Sam asked the inevitable question. “What are you gonna do, boy?”

Travis spoke more to himself than to Sam, as he said, “Find out why she doesn’t recognize either one of us. Find out how she got here. But before I do that, I want to find out just who
is
buried in that grave. I’ve got to move slowly. I can’t let anyone know what’s happening, certainly not John, or Marilee.”

Sam touched his arm and softly asked, “Then what? What are you going to do about Kitty?”

Travis drew in a deep breath and held it, then let it out slowly as he got to his feet and forced a smile. It was a very sad smile. “The only thing I can do, Sam,” he replied quietly. “Nothing.”

He turned and left the ward.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

He was a big man but not fat, his shoulders broad. The slight graying at the temples and the few lines around his eyes told Travis that Dr. Ambrose Watkins was in his forties.

There was no more time for studying the man. He looked up from the paper he was reading and frowned impatiently. “Yes? What is it?”

Travis sat down though he had not been invited to do so. It was best to get right to the point. “I want to ask about a doctor here at the hospital. Dr. Musgrave.”

Dr. Watkins’ expression changed from impatience to suspicion. He glared and said, “What about Stella Musgrave?”

“I would like to know where she studied medicine. I believe a person has the right to ask that question of a doctor.”

Dr. Watkins laid his paper aside. “I believe I have the right to ask why you want that information,” he replied tightly.

“Is that confidential information?”

“No…so why don’t you ask Dr. Musgrave herself?” Dr. Watkins countered. “Just who are you, mister?”

“Coltrane. Travis Coltrane. I own the Odom mine.”

The doctor’s face split into a wide grin. He jumped up, ran around the side of the desk, and clasped Travis’ hand. “I don’t believe it,” he cried. “Captain Coltrane,
sir.
I have always wanted to meet you. God knows, I kept up with your magnificent exploits during the war. I was with the medical corps under General Grant, himself.”

“Sir,” he beamed down at Travis. “You did the Union proud.”

Travis murmured “Thank you,” clearly unwilling to discuss the war.

“Well, now, back to business,” the doctor smiled. “You asked about Dr. Musgrave. Now that I know you’re not some over amorous suitor, I’ll be glad to tell you what I know.”

He returned to his seat, then gestured helplessly. “Actually, Captain, I don’t know exactly what to tell you.” Suddenly he leaned forward and whispered, “This will, of course, be confidential?”

“Of course,” Travis nodded grimly.

The doctor rolled his eyes, sighing, the light blue eyes troubled. “Heaven help me if it ever got out that she is practicing medicine without a license.” He looked hard at Travis. “But there is no danger to the patients, believe me, Captain. That woman knows almost as much about medicine as me or any other doctor on my staff, but I don’t assign her any difficult surgery. She handles gunshot victims, stabbings, that sort of thing, mostly at night. I tell you, this town is so damn wild at night that it strains our capabilities here to answer the needs.”

“When did she come here?”

“It’s a long story, Captain.”

“I’ve waited a long time to hear it.”

The doctor looked at him strangely, then settled back in his chair and began. “She was brought here as a patient, almost two years ago. She had a very high fever and was quite sick. As frail as a newborn chick and just as weak. I didn’t think she was going to make it.”

“Who brought her?” Travis was struggling to keep himself composed.

The doctor thought a moment. “I honestly can’t say. When she did get better, she could not tell us who she was. Didn’t know a thing about herself. I thought perhaps it was a result of the fever, her weakness. As time went by, it became obvious that she had a severe case of amnesia. She still does. I thought eventually someone would come looking for her, but no one ever did. So I let her start doing odd jobs around the hospital to earn her keep. Little by little, she began to help out in the treatment rooms, and I was amazed at how much she knew about medicine.

“Oh, I asked her a lot of questions,” he went on. “She remembered medicine. Who knows why, but she did. Yet she remembered nothing else. There was only one name that she recalled—Doc Musgrave. She couldn’t explain that, either.”

“Doc Musgrave taught her all she knew,” Travis told him tonelessly. “She followed him around when she was a little girl. She worked in hospitals during the war, for both sides. Get her to perform an amputation for you sometime. You would be amazed.”

“You…you know her then?” the doctor cried, incredulous. “My God, man, why didn’t you say so? Is she really a doctor?”

“I’m afraid not, not really, but she does know as much as a doctor knows, maybe more. I imagine she remembered Doc Musgrave’s name because he meant so much to her. She always wanted to be a doctor. But why do you call her Stella?”

“I had a daughter named Stella. She died,” he answered quietly. “This young woman came to be like a daughter to me. My wife and I took her into our home. She’s one of the family.”

Travis thought a moment, trying to absorb it all. “Have you seen any change in her at all? Do you think she will ever remember who she is?”

The doctor spread his hands helplessly “I can’t say, Captain. I wish I could. Amnesia follows few patterns. We know so little about the intricacies of the mind.” He looked at Travis thoughtfully. “You know her. Has she seen you? Does she know you?”

“No. It was as though she had never seen me before.”

“Well, how close were the two of you?” the doctor asked carefully.

Travis saw no point in being evasive. “I’m her husband.”

The doctor slowly swung his chair around to face the wall. After a while he turned back and faced Travis, pity in his gaze. “Captain, I realize you have another wife. She is a patient of mine, and she is expecting your baby in a few months. What happened? Did you think Stella was dead?”

Travis told him all of it. When he finished he could only shake his head in despair. “I still love her. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Kitty Wright Coltrane,” the doctor mused. “Abducted from home by a ruthless bastard who put her through so much horror that her mind could not stand what she was being forced to endure. So her mind withdrew.

“This Tate fellow,” he hurried on as the pieces began to fall together, “must have decided she was demented. He also wanted to cover his tracks in case anyone came looking for her. That was why he took you to her grave.”

“I killed him on top of that grave, Doc”—Travis ground out the words—“in cold blood.”

“Well, you needn’t worry about my saying anything. I think I could kill him myself.”