Sage promised herself as soon as she had a bath, she'd put away her widow's black and slip into the same riding clothes she'd worn when she left Texas. Only four months had passed since Barret had died, but four months seemed long enough to mourn a man she'd been married to for only four weeks, a man who'd never once said he loved her, not even on their wedding day. In the months she'd worn black for him, Sage realized she'd admired Barret Lander but never loved him.

At the market, they moved beyond the stores and offices packed together in long rows of storefronts. While Sage searched for the name of the hotel her brother wrote he'd booked for them, Bonnie set her bundle down and watched the street. Galveston spread like a tapestry of cultures and colors before her, a place where civilization and the frontier met. There were men in fine suits and uniforms, traders in fur, and cowboys with wide hats and guns strapped across their chests.

Bonnie smiled. "I can't tell if there is a sample of every kind of man about or if this is just where the scraps got left off”

"A little of both.” Sage laughed.

Carts, wagons, coaches, and half-broken horses maneuvered down the road, and every single one seemed to be trying to get around the others.

"This is true chaos” Bonnie set her cat down to push her tiny round glasses farther up her Roman nose. "Half these people need to go home and come back tomorrow."

When she put her fist on her hip, a broad-shouldered cowhand, carrying a fifty-pound bag of grain on his shoulder, bumped into her. He swung around, knocking a burly man into the street as he tried to apologize to Bonnie.

She stood, like a turnstile, in everyone's way, as she stared at the fellow in chaps and boots who towered almost a head taller than her.

"Pardon me, miss." The cowhand smiled down at her as if a six-foot woman were nothing unusual.

Bonnie remained speechless. This sudden contact with the locals seemed too much for her ordered world.

Laughing, Sage realized Bonnie would never speak to the man, no matter how long he stood in the middle of the street apologizing. Between shyness and being raised by overbearing parents, the old maid was destined never to talk, much less flirt, with any male.

Sage looked past Bonnie and the cowboy and spotted the hotel directly across the street. It was so new, the whitewash didn't look dry. Her protective older brothers would, of course, have found the best place they could to welcome her home. It wouldn't matter to them that she was a doctor or a widow; to them all she'd ever be was their kid sister.

A dog's yelp drew her attention to the husky man who'd landed in the muddy street. Anger wrinkled his reddened face, and he kicked again at a stray mutt beside him. He marched back toward the spot where Bonnie now stood. He took one look at the cowboy with the huge bag on his shoulder still trying to apologize and decided to kick the dog running in the street instead of picking a fight he couldn't win.

The animal took the second blow and limped a foot away, whimpering.

The man wasn't finished. He swung back his leg to plant another blow.

Sage reacted before she thought. Her bag slammed into the stout troublemaker at the same moment his foot reached the wounded dog. The man fell backward against the boardwalk, and the dog rolled farther into the street.

She jumped to snatch the animal back and too late realized she'd stepped directly into the path of a team of galloping horses.

Sage scooped up the pup and closed her eyes, bracing for the blow to come.

Bonnie's and her screams blended, but neither had time to move.

Like a swift wind, something or someone brushed against Sage and lifted her off the ground a second before impact.

Feeling suspended between life and death, Sage didn't dare breathe. Maybe that's how it is when you die, she thought. Maybe the angel of death grabs you a split second before you feel the pain.

But she could feel the dog in her arms. She could feel something strong and warm locked around her waist. A second later, she was plopped down on the walk out of harm's way.

"Damn it, Sage!" a furious voice thundered. "You about killed yourself over a stray dog."

Sage cringed. Recognizing the voice, she opened one eye. "Roak?"

The man before her was filthy from his dusty hat to his mud-covered boots. If Satan hired wranglers, this trail duster would get the job. He was tall, dark, and the kind of lean that's molded from solid muscle.

"Roak?" she whispered again. After almost four years there was no mistaking the wildness of Drummond Roak. His stormy gray eyes glared at her as if he was considering murdering her for almost getting herself killed. The lean boy's face she remembered seemed chiseled in strong, hard lines now. Just as she'd suspected, he'd grown up mean and heartless, probably tossing women aside in every settlement from here to the Oklahoma Territory

She opened her other eye. "It is you, isn't it?" None of the boy she'd known remained. This man before her almost frightened her.

He pulled off his hat and shoved midnight hair out of his eyes. "Of course it's me, damn it. Teagen told me you'd be in this week. I had to ride like hell to get here, and what do I see…" He swallowed hard as if choking down curses by the dozen. "I have half a mind to turn you over my knee and whip some sense into you. You must have left your brain back at that college you went to”

"Stop swearing at me!"

"Stop yelling at me!"

From behind him, Bonnie pushed her way through the gathering crowd. She stood almost eye-to-eye with Drummond Roak. "Who is this man, Dr. Lander? He can't talk to you like this. I won't stand for it." There was no doubt Bonnie thought she could straighten him out with a few words.

Sage almost laughed. Bonnie saw herself as not only nurse but bodyguard. As far as Sage knew, the nurse had never met anyone who didn't bend to what the hospital called her "sergeant tone” Sage had seen entire waiting rooms grow silent at her order, but Nurse Bonnie Faye had never encountered Drummond Roak.

He turned toward the nurse before spitting his words out. "Who am I? Who in the hell are you?"

Sage faced them both, her anger blending with embarrassment as a crowd gathered. "He's a dirty, foulmouthed kid named Drummond Roak," she answered before Bonnie could defend herself, "who has been driving me mad since he was no more than half-grown. I thought I would have at least a few months' peace before I ran into him again.” Sage glared at Roak as if she were six feet tall and not barely over five, but to Bonnie she said, "I don't need protection from this man. I only need distance” She shoved the rock-hard wall of his chest one last time for good measure as though she believed she could budge him.

"I just saved your life, Sage!" Drum shouted. "The least you could do is thank me before you start insulting me.”

"Stop yelling at me.” She poked him with her finger as if it were a saber.

"Stop calling me a kid.” He shoved her hand away, but it swung back.

She had to admit there was little of the boy she'd known standing before her. She was three years older than he was, but he'd never acknowledged the difference that made between them. He'd stolen a kiss from her when he'd been fifteen and always told her that someday she'd be his. Looking at him now, she realized how ridiculous his dream had been. In the years since her brother Teagen had caught him sneaking onto their ranch, from his dress Drum hadn't changed much from the dirty, wild kid raised in an outlaw camp. He looked like he belonged back in the lawless wilderness he'd come from.

Bonnie finally found her voice. "You're Drummond? The Drum that the doctor has told everyone about for years? The boy who tried to fight her big brother, a man twice your age and size? The kid who can swim the Guadalupe River to climb onto their ranch at Whispering Mountain? The Drum who fought with them against invaders and swore he'd die with the McMurrays if need be?"

"Who are you, lady?" Drum asked. "How do you know about me?"

"I'm Bonnie Faye Pierce. Dr. Lander's assistant.” Bonnie stood tall. "You got to be Drum Roak. She said you had the gray eyes of a wolf."

Sage wished she could take back every word she'd ever said about Texas. She'd thought the stories on cold winter nights at the hospital were harmless. Everyone seemed to think they were just adventures in fiction. Now, Bonnie was staring at Roak as if he were a hero from a novel come to life.

He lowered his voice and frowned. "Who is Dr. Lander?"

Sage knew it was time to mention what she'd left out of her letters to her brothers. She only wished she were telling them first and not Roak. "I married five months ago. My name is Lander now."

His stormy eyes flashed for a moment with something that might have been pain. "You're married?" he said. He straightened and added, "You're Dr. Lander?" All emotion suddenly was gone from his voice.

"Widowed," she answered.

Eyes that had drunk in the wonder and sadness of the world when he'd been younger showed no sign of feeling anything now, and Sage realized that standing before her was a stranger she didn't know at all.

The dog moved in her arms. She said in the level tone of a professional. We need to move someplace where I can have a look at this animal."

Roak stood stone still, and she knew if she wanted his help, she'd have to ask.

Biting her lip, she said, "Drum, will you see us safely across the street?"

He nodded, silently accepting her tacit apology. He reached for her bag and would have lifted both of Bonnie's as well, but the nurse grabbed the carrying cage. "I'll handle Bullet.”

Roak raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.