One hour later, Ginny, and Braeden arrived at Dr. Engle's office in town.
"Dr. Engle, Constable Jones says there's a man staying here named Harry Potter." Braeden said as Ginny stood beside him at the doctor's front door.
The short, gray-haired physician nodded, peering up at Braeden through wire rimmed spectacles. "Yep, he sure is. He took a good beating, too." The sounds of squeaking wagons and horse' hooves in the street seemed to punctuate the doctor's claim.
"Is he.. May we see Mr. Potter?" Ginny asked.
"Well, he was asleep again the last time I checked, but I can see if he's awake." Dr. Engle opened the door wider, and Ginny and Braeden entered his cramped quarters.
"Wait," Braeden said removing his black hat, "do you know for sure he's Harry Potter?"
"Well, he had a letter in his pocket…" the doctor looked at Ginny. "From Bill to his pa."
Ginny's face warmed. So Dr. Engle knew Bill had arranged their marriage. Clasping her hands, she peered down at the tops of her white lace gloves.
"And he had me wire his pa first thing this morning to tell them he was all right and ask them to send him some more money since all of his had been stolen."
A big man with green eyes and a patch of messy black hair that stood up in all directions limped into the room from the hall and cleared his throat. "I'm Harry Potter. You wanted to see me?" His voice contrasted with his rugged cowhand experience and sounded more like someone from the east than the west.
He was dressed in denims and a tan pullover shirt the buttoned from mid chest up. Ginny figured that because of his size, he had to have his clothes tailored-made like Braeden did. Dr. Engle's small kitchen and parlor seem overcrowded with Harry on one side and Braeden on the other.
"Well I'll be," the doctor said, "you feeling any better?
With a smile, Harry winced and fingered the bruises under his left eye. "Yeah, still sore though."
Ginny nodded. No other proof than his looks to decide that he was the real Harry Potter. Kate had insisted on drawing a sketch of Harry's father. Her sketch of James Potter was almost identical to the man standing in front of her. Square jaw and chin, a nose that was just almost too large, wide-set, honest eyes that resembled emeralds.
He was the spitting image of his father and had the mannerisms of a gentleman who should wear handmade wool suits and sit in fancy parlors sipping tea instead of riding across Texas. He was the kind of man Sarah Bishop, Ginny's best friend, would call a sight for sore eyes. Ginny had to admit, he was.
"Come on and sit down." Dr. Engle motioned to Harry, then to Ginny and Braeden. "Here's the man you were asking about. Harry, this is Miss Ginny Weasley and her intended, Braeden Campbell.
"Pleased to meet you," Harry said, his gaze lingering on Ginny in a way that made a tendril of restlessness ignite deep within her.
As they all seated themselves around the sturdy oak kitchen table, Harry glanced at Braeden and extended his hand,
Ginny watched as the two men shook hands and sized each other up. Knowing Braeden, she imagined he was disconcerted to finally meet up with a man who was slightly bigger than he.
"Bill didn't tell me about his sending for you." Ginny said slowly as they sat down. "I found your pas letter in response to Bill's after…" Ginny tried to control her shaking voice.
Attempting to compose herself, she stared out the streaked window as her best friend Sarah Bishop, drove by with her father in their black two-seater buggy. A hot tear splashed down her face. Sarah still had her family. She was alone.
Braeden laid a possessive hand on her shoulder and finished for her. "Bill died last month. Consumption."
"I'm awfully sorry." Harry said respectfully. "He mentioned something of illness in his letter."
Ginny nodded.
"He went fast," Dr. Engle muttered. "Too fast… um, would you young 'uns like some coffee?" he asked, his gray eyes suspiciously red. Dr. Engle was like one of the family.
Five minutes later, Ginny sipped a cup of hot coffee, bitter coffee, The town agreed that Dr. Engle made the worst coffee.
"As I was saying, Mr. Potter," she started, trying not to choke, "I know about Bill sending after you-"
"That letter he mailed… He didn't seem to think you'd let me stay if you knew…" Harry trailed off and glanced cautiously at Braeden.
Ginny squirmed inside. Harry understood. He had just stopped himself from mentioning that appalling marriage arrangement. "well… I, um, I seem to be in a little… predicament." Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she looked into Braeden's eyes, asking for support.
And as he told Harry everything, ending with Ginny's burned barn and the murder.
"It's a good thing your brother sent for me, Miss Ginny. Looks like I got here just in time." Harry ran a hand through his black locks.
"I ain't said you could stay yet," Braeden said, raising his chin.
"I guess I haven't made myself clear. Please excuse me," Harry said, one side of his mouth lifting in a politely challenging smile, "but her brother was the best friend my pa ever had. Mr. Weasley wrote, asking that I would come to help Miss Ginny. My pa wrote back and gave his word that I would stay until spring. That's all I would agree to since I'm getting married in the spring myself. And well…"
Harry looked Braeden square in the eyes, his word measured. "My pa is a man of honor. So am I. We promised a dying man I would help his sister, and I'm here to give that help whether anybody agrees to it or not."
Braeden tensed.
Ginny's stomach clenched.
A long silence filled the room. And the two men stared at each other like a pair of bulls trying to decide whether to butt heads or come to a mutual respect of the others strength.
"Besides," Harry added, "I want to know why Travis Parker tied me up."
Braeden nodded slowly. "He was on Ginny's property for a reason."
"I think we owe it to her brother to find out that reason," Harry said.
"I think you might be right," Braeden agreed.
Ginny relaxed. Maybe her plan would work. Harry Potter's protection would help her prove to herself that she could run the ranch smoothly.
"Well if I'm to be staying with Miss Ginny, I guess I should go on out to her ranch. But I need to replace my guns first. The only thing that Travis Parker didn't steal was my clothing."
Within ten minutes Ginny was enveloped in the smells of coffee and peppermint. Through a clutter of horse plows, hand tools, and bolts of fabric, Ginny saw Sarah Bishop scrutinizing a bolt of blue fabric. Instantly Sarah dimpled into a warm smile.
Ginny turned toward Harry. "Sarah, this is Mr. Harry Potter, an old family friend. He's come to help me out at the ranch awhile. Mr. Potter, Sarah Bishop, my best friend."
"Miss bishop," Harry said, nodding his head.
"How do, Miss Sarah," Braeden muttered respectfully.
Sarah produced a strained smile.
"The guns are over here, Harry." Braeden said.
"We need to talk," Ginny whispered to Sarah.
"Okay."
"Sarah, I'm ready," Joshua Bishop said, walking toward the front door with a fifty-pound bag of cornmeal over his shoulder.
"Oh, just a minute, Pa. I wanted to buy this material." Sarah clutched the fabric.
"Make it quick. Your ma wants you back home in time to help with supper. How do, Miss Ginny," he said with the usual chill. He, for some reason, never really liked her. "How's everything up your way?"
Ginny gazed at Sarah. "Not so good, Mr. Bishop. Somebody burned down my storage barn yesterday."
Sarah gasped.
"I'm real sorry to hear that," Mr. Bishop said, his deep voice cold. "Think you might know who did it.?"
"We aren't really sure. But I had a visitor who lied about who he was. Then somebody shot and killed him, and his body disappeared."
"Do you think he started the fire?" Sarah asked.
"I don't know." Ginny swallowed the lump in her throat, then recounted Travis's tying Harry to a tree.
"Sounds to me like it might have something to do with the cattle theft." Mr. Bishop said.
"That's what I'm afraid of." Ginny nodded.
"Oh, Ginny," Sarah breathed, "how awful. Why don't you and Miss Kate come stay with us till you find out for sure who did it." Our house is big enough for half the town. I would just die if anything happened to you."
Mr. Bishop cleared his throat in objection, and Ginny did not have to look at his face to know that there was a granite like gleam in his eyes.
"I have to run the ranch. I just can't haul off and leave it."
"But you've got hired hands," Sarah protested.
"I still have to be there. Besides, Mr. potter will be protection."
"We need to be going, Sarah," Mr. Bishop said.
"Okay, just a minute." a quick squeeze of Ginny's hand and then, gathering the material, she went to pay Will Adams, who waited expectantly behind the counter.
"I'm sure the lucky man you ask to the turnaround picnic won't be able to take his eyes off you and your new dress," Mr. Adams said as Sarah handed him the money, "Who are you asking?"
Ginny, unable to ignore Sarah and Mr. Adams conversation, pretended to be interested in a blue checked bolt of fabric. She wished Sarah would happily marry, and Will Adams was a wonderful prospect.
"I'll probably be going by myself," Sarah said.
Will had been trying to court her for a year, but for some reason, Sarah had not encouraged him. Most young women in their town thought that Will was an attractive man. He also owned his own business and had money in the bank. But at thirty, he had yet to marry. Perhaps Sarah was not ready to marry; but at nineteen years old, neither Sarah nor Ginny had much time left if they wanted a husband. That was part of the reason Ginny had accepted Braeden's proposal. Ginny stole a glance toward Harry, who was fingering a Colt revolver. Had she acted to hastily?