Chapter Two

A New Gun in Town

Jordan pulled the reins on her horse Camino to bring him to a halt. It had been a long day…Mrs. Frankin down along the bluff delivered her baby today…Today of all days…when Garret had been the busiest with his work as an undertaker. That had left her to go and help Mrs. Frankin by herself.

Not that she minded delivering babies….that was one of the good things about her job as a nurse/doctor. But the ample Mrs. Frankin weighed the best of 250 pounds, if Jordan was off by an ounce. Pushing a baby out of a woman that large was no party…it wasn't even a picnic. Sliding out of her saddle, she tied Camino up and walked into her father's bar.

Most women she knew wouldn't dare set foot inside a bar. It was a man's domain. But Jordan wasn't most women. She didn't look like one, talk like one, act like one and she sure as hell wasn't educated like most women. Whether it was because her father had raised her or she had chosen such an odd path in life, most people weren't sure. And to tell the truth, neither was Jordan. She just knew it fit her and she was comfortable with herself.

She wished her father was.

"Afternoon, Jordan. What brings you in here?" Max asked her from behind his place at the bar, a look of disapproval flickering across his face.

"Hi, Dad. Just delivered Mrs. Frankin's baby." Jordan ignored the look.

"Baby…that's right. She was in the family way. What'd she have?"

"Little boy…about 10 pounds worth."

Max smiled and continued to wipe down the bar. Jordan would never know how much he longed to hear that about her…that she was happily settled with her husband…content…and starting a family of her own.

But with Jordan slightly over thirty, Max knew that dream was fading with every passing birthday. Now Jordan was what most people in the town would call an "old maid," although Max resented the moniker. She was still young, still beautiful, and could still start a family, if she so desired.

However, Max wasn't sure the desire was anywhere in Jordan's heart right now…if indeed it ever was. And he partially blamed himself. He hadn't insisted that she chose a traditional way of life after they lost her mother…all he had wanted was to keep his daughter happy and healthy…but with Jordan being the only child and Max working at his bar in order to make ends meet, Jordan had been left on her own a lot…and had to take on a lot of responsibilities that normally should have been a man's job. She not only had to play most of the traditional woman's role…cooking, cleaning, mending and such, she also had to run his property claim on the north side of town while he was absent. This including dealing with the cattle and the horses…the fences and wild animals.

And she had done it with seeming ease. But when she took to wearing his old clothes while riding over the claim inspecting fences, Max had put a screeching halt to those activities, despite Jordan's protest that his clothes made more sense, riding astride instead of side saddle was more comfortable, and her skirts just got in the way.

He had promptly packed her up, telegraphed her maternal grandmother in Boston, and shipped Jordan there to finish her education. Max hoped and prayed that Margaret would be able to talk some sense into the teenaged Jordan and train her in more lady-like ways….in the ways Emily, Jordan's mother, had been raised.

At first Jordan had hated Boston…hated to wear a dress everyday…and gave her grandmother a hard time. But once she was introduced to Boston schools, all of that was put behind her. Jordan excelled in the rigorous academic standards and graduated at the top of her class…ahead of the even the smartest boy in the school. Max's chest had puffed out in pride.

Until she dropped another bombshell on him. She wanted to become a nurse.

The Civil War had just broken out and Jordan felt a need to serve on the battlefield…patch up the fallen soldiers….serve her country. Max protested loud and long, but Jordan's stubborn Irish mind was already made up. She signed up for classes under Clara Barton and the Red Cross and the next thing he knew, his daughter was putting her life on the line for both sides of the war. Jordan didn't care if they wore blue or gray, if the boys were hurt, she took care of them.

Part of Max was incredibly proud of his daughter. Her kindness, compassion, and ability to heal brought a commendation from then President Lincoln and later President Grant. How many women could boast of that?

However, Max feared the battlefield had forever altered his daughter. She came home a changed woman. Before she had hid her tendency to wear the cast off men's clothes around the claim and had at least acted traditionally in town. Now it seemed she no longer cared. And when Max asked her why, she replied, "Why should I? Why should I pretend to be a woman I'm not comfortable with? When someone's sick or dying, they don't care if I show up buck naked, just as long as I show up."

Jordan just simply no longer cared what other women or men in the town thought of her if she dressed differently, acted differently, or walked into her father's bar. She had chosen her path in life….medicine….and that was a road that didn't include being particularly keen on what people thought of her. And it certainly didn't include a husband or family all her own.

"Ten pounds? And you were there by all by yourself?" Max asked, bringing his thoughts back to the present.

"Yep. Garret was busy with those guys that were found out in the desert the other day…so he sent me. Could I have a sarsaparilla, Dad?"

"Sure….just a minute."

Garret…now there was another link in Jordan's life Max didn't know whether to curse or bless. Dr. Garret Macy had served on the battlefield with Jordan as a surgeon…and a damn fine one at that. Tough as oak and demanding as the chief demon of hell, he had been known for barking orders so loudly at the Civil War nurses that a large number of them were easily cowed and reduced to tears.

Not his Jordan. Jordan took everything the man threw at her and responded promptly and professionally to the point where she had won Garret's grudging respect and admiration. Within the process of a few months, Garret had only wanted to work with Jordan and between the two of them they had set a remarkable track record for saving lives and keeping limbs that most surgeons thought were hopelessly mangled and would require amputation.

When the war was over and Jordan was ready to take the train back home, Garret had tagged along. For a while Max had hoped it was because Garret was in love with his daughter and wanted to marry her. Come to find out, Garret was running from a bad marriage – he had a wife and a daughter back East and left to leave them in peace. He was coming West with Jordan to start a new practice and train Max's daughter to be a doctor. Max had nearly lost it then. Who in the hell had ever heard of a woman doctor? Was Jordan really smart enough to do that?

Garret had assured him that she was. Meanwhile, in the small town of Tyler in the Texas territory, there weren't a steady supply of sick folk. Garret made ends meet by also becoming the town undertaker. That was why he was busy with the men that the sheriff had found in the desert. It took time to build six coffins and then put the men away.

"Here you go, sweetheart. Now that you've played stork, what are you're plans for the day?"

"I'm going back to Garret's and see what's going on. Then I think I'll go back to the claim and take a long, hot bath."

Max smiled at her again as she finished her sarsaparilla. "You do that…I'll be home later."

"It's okay if you have to stay here tonight, Dad. I know it's busy right now…."

"I don't like you staying on the claim by yourself. Anything could happen."

"Anything could…but it's not. Relax. I'll be fine." And with that, Jordan slapped a few coins on the counter to cover her drink and ambled outside, pulling her skirts along side of her.

She didn't necessarily hate dresses, you know. She didn't like them because they got in the way while she had to work….that's why she hated to wear them. In Boston, she had worn dresses all the time and her grandmother had a seamstress make them to fit Jordan's very slender body, emphasizing her diminutive curves in such a way that made her look and feel more feminine. For a while, Jordan had even thought she could be a traditional wife and mother.

Until the war broke out and she had heard the horror stories of suffering on the battlefield. And she had to go. She had never regretted her decision, but had never found her way back to the woman she was before all that happened, either. The blood that still lingered around her short fingernails from Mrs. Franklin, despite a harsh scrubbing with lye soap, bore evidence of this. She needed to go see Garret, but first she needed to stop by the general store and pick up some yellow embroidery thread. She was probably more traditional than anyone really knew.

"Jordan!" A familiar voice greeted her once she entered Walcott's General Merchandise.

"Lily…" If Jordan had a best friend in this God-forsaken Texas town, it was Lily, the school teacher. Lily had never judged – even growing up as girls. But Jordan had found herself losing touch with her red-haired friend as they both got older and Lily chose a more traditional path in life.

"Have you heard the news?" Lily asked, walking beside Jordan as she looked over the embroidery flosses.

"What news? Mrs. Franklin's baby? I delivered it…"

"No, no….although I am happy to hear about it….No. We're getting a federal marshal."

"Sheriff Malden is leaving?"

"Sort of. He's retiring at the end of the month, or so I've heard."

"Good." Jordan finally chose the right color and made her way to the counter. "I never really liked him much anyway. How much is this, Rene'?"

"Two cents. Nice to see you in a dress, Jordan," Rene' said with a soft sneer as she took Jordan's money.

"Thanks…" Jordan gave the woman a hard look, but kept her mouth shut because the proprietor was good friends with Garret, who for some unknown reason, was returning the sentiment. Mentally, Jordan made a note to see if anyone else in the town carried the sewing thread she needed. "Old battle axe," she mumbled to Lily.

"She's just jealous because you spend so much time with Garret," Lily replied.

Jordan mumbled something under her breath then about Rene' … something definitely not ladylike and something Lily, with her virgin ears, definitely didn't need to hear. Jordan knew she shouldn't let comments like that rattle her. She had heard them all too often during the two years she had returned from the battlefields. The women in the town needed her, but they really didn't like her or respect or….or accept her. By their standards, Jordan was an undesirable woman….not because she was anything like one of the few "fallen doves" in the small town, but simply because she didn't seem to fit in….anywhere. Jordan swallowed her pain and turned back to Lily. "So tell me about this federal marshal?"

"I don't know a lot…just that President Grant is sending him as part of the process for Texas to become a state."

Jordan snorted. "Yeah. Like Mexico's going to let this territory go so easily…"

Lily shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is that this guy is young and single. Isn't that exciting?" Lily nearly jumped up and down at the news. And probably would have if they hadn't been standing in the middle of town.

"Young, single, and probably looks like the southern end of a northern bound mule, Lils." Jordan paused outside of Garret's office. "But…I hope for your sake….he doesn't."

"My sake? I was hoping for yours," Lily replied before crossing the street to go back to her school house. Jordan's cheeks heated a little at the thought. No man would want her. Not the way she was now. Battle hard and a career woman. She was undesirable to more than just one sex in this tiny Texas town.