Chapter 2

Chapter Two

She had needed to get away. The sounds, the sights, the smells—she had even smelled him. That doctor friend of Mr. Coleson’s. Yes, he had smelled good—but that she could smell him at all upset her. She did not go around smelling strange men.

Beatrice just wanted some time alone. Just for a little while. She’d waited until after dinner, when the rest of the girls were in the parlor with Elspeth and he had left to go to Dr. Coleson’s home office to discuss important things. Things they no doubt thought she and the other ladies would have no real interest in. But that just was not true. Beatrice was very interested in what Dr. Coleson was wanting to do here. It was fascinating. The very idea of it. Men did not just build hospitals from nothing the way Iagan Coleson was intending.

They just did not.

She could just imagine the people who would be needed to run such a place.

She wished he would ask her to help, or at least ask her opinion. She had plenty of ideas, and had read up on everything she could find when Elspeth had written to her months ago with talk of her new husband’s plans. When Elspeth had written that she had not been taken off by criminals like everyone had feared—but had been carried off by a braw young doctor to be his bride.

To America.

No one had known where she was for near on a month. Beatrice had been filled with terror. Only to have Elspeth write that she was happy. Beatrice understood why Dr. Coleson had carried Elspeth off that day to rescue her, but she was not so sure she would have been as forgiving as Elspeth. He had just changed Elspeth’s life forever that day. Not giving her one bit of choice about it, either.

That day had led to Beatrice’s choices, too. Now here she was, in a land not her own, and things felt a bit off-kilter at times. A lot different. More than she had been prepared for.

Beatrice just wanted things to be easy and good again. Somehow.

She was not sure it ever would.

The sound of soft laughter carried through the hallway as Beatrice neared the kitchen. The library was just a wee bit past that. She loved the library best here; she could curl up in that library for hours. And Dr. Coleson had so many books to choose from. He had told her she could read anything she wanted in there—that knowledge was never a bad thing at all.

She paused when she heard her name. When Dr. Coleson asked how the other man liked the girls—especially her. Why did it matter? And why her especially? She was not as remarkable as the other girls—Beatrice knew that. She was too small, too young, too…different.

“They’re just girls, especially that Beatrice,” Dr. Collins said, a tone she could not identify in his words. It was one she did not like at all. “I’m sure they’re all nice girls, but you’ve essentially brought over a handful of Scottish sparrows. Not exactly like your Elspeth, are they? Hardly the kind to thrive here in Texas. But I am sure they will all find wealthy husbands soon enough. Isn’t that what you had in mind when you brought them here? Marrying off Elspeth’s little friends to keep your missus happy and all. Pretty girls like that—they’ll go fast.”

Beatrice froze, her fingers tightening around her book. What a horrible man. She certainly had not come to Texas in search of a wealthy husband. Beatrice did not know if she would ever want a husband, honestly. She was only four months past twenty, and romance was a right tangle to figure out sometimes. Her own mother had not been too happy in romance, either. The muddle of it all was just too much for Beatrice to ever view romance lightly.

“Don’t be a mule-headed jackass,” Dr. Coleson said.

She could not tell if he was actually angry or not. She did not often understand the subtleties of conversations. And Dr. Coleson was a different sort of man at times. Probably why Beatrice liked him so greatly and felt he was perfect for Elspeth. Beatrice was used to being a different one, too.

“Those pretty little birds are a great deal stronger than you think, Oscar. They’ve survived more than most men I know and come out atop it. All of them,” Dr. Coleson continued. He was a man who liked to talk. And talk, and talk, and talk. Sometimes about the strangest things. More, he was happy—and kind.

“Perhaps. But they’re out of their depth, and from what I’ve seen…Still…they’ll be off your hands soon enough, I’m sure. Even that little Beatrice of Elspeth’s. Probably rather quickly, that one. She was quite amusing to watch.”

So he had been watching her, then? She had almost thought he had. But why her ? Had she done something she should not have again? What was so amusing about her ?

Beatrice turned and walked away before she stepped into that kitchen and told that man what she thought about him and his high and mighty ways. What an insufferable man. Why would a kind, wonderful man like Dr. Coleson have a friend like that ?

Sparrows? Out of their depths? What did that even mean?

She paced around the room, letting the warmth and familiarity of her favorite place settle her a wee bit. Then…he was just there. The door opened and he was just there.

Dr. Oscar Collins, himself.

Beatrice froze. Right where she stood.

“Miss…Ardis,” he said, inclining his head politely. Like it had taken a moment for him to remember which sparrow she was. Oh, he had such a swanker look in those eyes of his.

She honestly did not think she had ever disliked a man more than she did this one right in front of her now.

But she had been raised with proper manners by a mama who took great pride in being the minister’s wife—and she and Dr. Collins were both guests in this house. Beatrice would not tell him what she was really thinking. No matter how much she wanted to. “Dr. Collins.”

He stepped farther into the room, obviously wanting something. Of course he did—and men like this one always got what they wanted. It was the people like her that did not. Or got what they needed by hard work and the tears and pain that went along with it.

She thought about just leaving, but the way the man smirked as he looked at her serviceable dress—no. She just could not. “Sparrows, are we?”

The words just came right out, not like she could stop them at all.

The man paused, then looked at her. Beatrice fought retreating, but…she had retreated from life enough. Elspeth and Agnes and her friends—they all said that. Said Beatrice, you cannot hide in your books forever, lass. You have to live now.

“You overheard.” There was not one bit of shame in his tone or his eyes, neither. What a foul, foul man.

“Aye. And I cannot decide if you’re a fool or just an idiot.” The words came out before Beatrice could stop them. Like they often did.

That would get her into real trouble one day. Isobel had warned her of that time and time before.

“You’re rather bold, Miss Ardis. For one so young.” He gave a little sniff when he said it. Like he was so ancient himself. He was not so old, she did not think. No older than Elspeth’s own Iagan. He certainly looked fit and young enough.

“And you’re rather rude,” she shot back. “For a nesh laddie, and all.”

“Not quite sure what a nesh laddie is. I’m sure you’ll tell me, beautiful lassie. You’re taking my earlier words out of context. I merely suggested that your adjustment to life here might be… challenging.”

“Challenging. Because we’re Scottish? Or because we’re only women?”

“Neither. I meant no offense. I simply observed that the transition might be difficult for someone unaccustomed to the realities of Texas life.”

“Realities like what?” she asked, stepping closer. Just so she could see him more clearly in the low light. Not that she had trouble seeing his true character now. One who had had the good just handed to him—hard to miss that. “Hard work? Men who think their opinions are the only ones that matter? Perhaps you should try living the realities of life where I came from, laddie. Before you judge.”

His smirk faded slightly. “I was referring to the demands of self-reliance. Garrity is not Houston. It’s small, insular, and not particularly forgiving. It’s harder for a woman here, that’s all.”

“ Life is harder for women overall, everywhere, Dr. Collins. Whether in Scotland, Texas, or the far places of Africa. As a physician I would expect you to know that.” Beatrice just studied him, trying to see what made him think he was too grand for the likes of her and her friends. “And yet here we are, surviving so far. In fact, the human race would not have made it this far if it were not for the females of the species. If you’ll forgive my boldness, sir, I do not ken what makes you so certain of our fragility.”

“Fragility is not the word I used.”

He just kept moving closer, until Beatrice felt almost surrounded by him. She could definitely smell him, he smelled like mint. And something almost manly. She shivered. She did not want him getting closer. She did not.

They did not make men like this in Braeford. They just did not. He was most certainly big enough, strong enough to just carry a woman away. Like he and Iagan had done to Elspeth.

She probably should not be alone with this man again. Ever.

“But it’s the one you meant. You see us as lost little birds, so helpless without someone like you to guide us. Tell me, doctor, do you judge every woman so quickly, or are we ladies from Braeford simply a special case?”

His face showed that she’d made her point. Beatrice smirked now.

Sparrow?

She was a woman who could think for herself, and she had saved up and taken care of herself for four long years now to get herself to America without a helping hand from anybody, save for the roof over her head at the moment. To a new life. She could have stayed in Braeford. It would have been hard, but she was an intelligent woman; she could have worked at the school. Taken in some sewing, too. Even moved to the city nearby, found work in a factory.

But Elspeth had wanted her to come to America. Agnes and Mora and Isobel— they had become her family. And that mattered. The other girls were set on coming to join Elspeth in America—and they had wanted Beatrice to come with them. Agnes had told her—they belonged together now. They had made a family where one had not been before. So even though she’d been scared, she’d used all the money she had to come here. Beatrice was going to build herself a career, a life, where she had to answer to no one, and could do what she wanted. Maybe even a career in that hospital Dr. Coleson was building, even.

“You’re rather quick to assume my intentions,” he said. “What makes you think a young girl like you has lived long enough to make those assumptions about anyone she has just met?”

Had he not made those assumptions of her and her friends? Arrogant fool.

“Age has nothing to do with pain, and you’re rather quick to assume we’ve not lived through hardship,” she told him right back as the memories threatened to choke her again. “I was fifteen when my family’s croft burned to the ground—when nigh on most of Braeford burned to the ground, too, taking my own father with it. My friends’ families, too—what were not lost in the explosion itself. We had nothing but the clothes on our backs after that day. I worked as a laundress to keep my brothers and my mama fed until the fever took them all three years ago. Then I worked as a seamstress and a tutor, six days a week, until Elspeth invited me here. I paid for my own passage, Dr. Collins. Every fair penny of it. I know hardship, sir. Probably more so than you ever have dreamed about, in your fancy suit and your doctor’s carriage, and your God’s gift to the world attitude.”

“That’s a heavy burden for anyone to bear,” he said finally. His fingers were wrapped around her elbow, holding her still. When had he done that? “You have my apologies. I did not mean to offend.”

“Aye. But I carried it. We all carried it; Agnes, Mora, Isobel. Including Elspeth. Before you and Dr. Coleson just carted her off that day. So do not stand there and tell me—or any of us—that we’re not suited to life in Texas. That Texas is harder than from where we come from. You do not know the first thing about us.”

“I’ll grant you this: I do not. And you’re no sparrow. My mistake to assume so. You’re an unusual woman, Miss Ardis. I’ll admit, I underestimated you.” And those blue eyes were staring straight into her soul, it felt like. Beatrice finally understood what that meant. Sometimes…the things she read would take her a moment or two to puzzle out.

“You would not be the first,” she said. Everyone did. She was just accustomed to it by now. But it hurt sometimes, no denying that. “And likely not the last.”

“I’ll leave you to your reading, then. I apologize for interrupting. Though I hope you won’t judge me too harshly for my earlier remarks.” He nodded and stepped back. But she could still smell the warm masculine scent of him. Pine and spice, maybe cinnamon. And warmth. She had never really smelled a man in a good way before. Beatrice was not so certain she liked it.

Beatrice found the book she was looking for and almost ran out of the library. That was one man she did not want to ever spend another moment alone with.

He was nothing more than trouble.

She suspected he liked it that way. Beatrice went back to her friends. She felt safest with Agnes and Mora there.

She settled next to the fire to read, in a chair between Agnes and Isobel. She was there when he came back, coming in like he rather than Dr. Coleson owned the estate. So arrogant, that one. He reminded her of Sandy Sinclair—the owner of the mine in Braeford’s son. Sandy had been a real swanker, too. That smirk, that arrogance…

Beatrice had never liked Sandy Sinclair—in spite of the nice things he had said about her eyes that one day so long ago—but Sandy had died saving two young men in the explosion at his daddy’s mine. Men who had not had a penny to their names. Men who had married and had children since.

Sandy Sinclair was a hero, and always would be. There had been goodness in that man that he had hidden with his mollycoddled ways.

That gave her pause. But as she watched Dr. Oscar Collins looking around like he was some fair high and mighty laird or something, she doubted he had the same kind of honor that had driven Sandy Sinclair.

No. This was a fair soft one, through and through. Laird of them all, he was not. She would do well to keep her distance from Dr. Oscar Collins.

“Isn’t he something?” Agnes whispered right in her ear. Even though she knew Beatrice did not like it when people got so close—at least not in the darker hours. Beatrice pulled the lamp a wee bit closer. “Dr. Collins, I mean. Handsome, wealthy, and a doctor, no less. I imagine half the women in Texas would throw themselves at his feet if he asked.”

“Doubtful. Laird of Arrogance, that one is.” She could not help herself—she looked at him, her ire probably written all over her face.

Agnes just looked at her. “You do not like him, Bea? He’s very handsome and successful.”

“He’s fine enough to look at,” Beatrice said—and it was truth. He was a very good looking man. “But I’ve not interest in men who think their fortunes make them better than everyone else.”

“When did you speak to him?” Mora asked. “He’s only been here a few hours, Bea. Not quite long enough to judge a man, I think.”

“Earlier. In the library. He called us sparrows and said we were not going to be able to handle life here in Texas. Implied we are weak and not ken to hardship.”

“What did you say to that?” Agnes asked. She and Elspeth, they were the eldest of the group. They liked to think they were protectors—particularly of Beatrice and Isobel, especially with Isobel being as sickly as she was.

Beatrice clenched her fingers around the book. She wanted to look at him but did not. “I told him the truth—that the four of us, five with Elspeth, could take care of ourselves just fine. That we’ve had our share of trials, and made it this far, have we not?”

“That we have,” Mora said, tucking the hand with the burn scars beneath her embroidery. Mora had pulled her youngest sister from the flames when the fires had spread to their home. But it had not been in time. Mora would always have the reminder of that day, right there for herself to see. A reminder of her pain, her loss.

“Maybe he is just a bit ignorant of how the world truly is,” Agnes said. “But looking as he does—he is a fine braw laddie, that one—I will be giving him a second look.”

“Besides, I do believe he may be too old for our little Beatrice Maeve,” Mora said. She was twenty-three now. Far more to the men’s liking than Beatrice, too. Beatrice was just fine with that. Men and all that came with them were a bit too confusing for Beatrice. They all knew that.

“He said we would all be married off, and out of Dr. Coleson’s way, soon enough, too. Like that was why we had come here. To find husbands. Wealthy ones, at that.” Beatrice bit back what she truly wanted to say now. “He said that was the reason Dr. Coleson brought us here—to marry us off for Elspeth. We argued a fair bit. And like I said, I do not like him. Not one bit.”

Let Agnes swoon over him if she wanted to. Beatrice had no interest in a man like Dr. Collins.