Galveston: Between Wind And Water (A Historical Literary Fiction Novel Filled with Romance and Drama) by Rachel Cartwright Page A

upholstered wing chair by the bay window was the same man who had challenged Caden during his lecture. 
    The smug contempt still fresh in Bret McGowan’s easy-going eyes, he turned away from Caden as if more intent on the chirping fowl cooling outside in the three-tiered stone bird bath.
    Caden paused to assess the undesirable visitor’s presence. The man seated before him was a stranger in every aspect, except by name. But in another time and place . . . could this have been . . . He flinched from the sudden sharp, stabbing pain in his groin. Caden’s eyes narrowed and he drew a breath. “Excuse me, sir.” He recovered his firm stance. “But have we been introduced before?”
    “Not directly,” Bret replied, without turning away from the window. “But your reputation has proceeded you.” He shut the clasp of the brown leather valise on the oval side table and turned to face the doctor. “All the way down the hall, in fact.”
    “Strange. I have the sense that we’ve seen each other—” Caden snapped his fingers, feigning a sudden recollection. “Ah, you attended my lecture last evening. Yes, I enjoyed our lively debate. It is the spirit of the coming age to question everything , is it not, sir?”
    Bret shrugged. “Guess I had to see and hear what all the excitement was about. I heard enough.”
    “And your thoughts, sir?”
    “Not sure you want to hear them, considering there’s a lady present.”
    Gabrielle glared at her visitor. “This is Bret McGowan, Cade, and he was just leaving .” She put her hands on her hips. “Weren’t you, Mr. McGowan?”
    Bret’s eyes had darkened when Gabrielle spoke her new friend’s informal, intimate name. Cade grinned and stepped closer to Gabrielle.
    She faced Caden and touched his forearm. “Forgive him, Cade, but my old friend has acquired quite the bohemian attitude during his long travels abroad and it is only with the greatest effort that respectable people have been able to put up with him since his return.”
    Caden patted her hand and consciously relaxed his strained forehead muscles, hoping to maintain the serene look of unruffled superiority that he so cherished. “Don’t worry, my dear,” he assured her. “I can see that I’ve interrupted your conversation, but perhaps Mr. McGowan . . .” He turned to the younger man. “Would be kind enough, one day, to discuss matters with me—matters that could bode well for his future, and of all men with such an obvious passion for . . . expressing their opinions at the expense of manners.”
    “I appreciate your candor, Hellreich.” Bret rose with an unfriendly smile. “But I think you sugarcoat your words when you’re trying to feed them to strangers.”
    Caden grinned. “Only to children, sir, to sweeten bitter medicine and so hasten the cure.”
    Gabrielle stepped between the two. “Gentlemen, please, enough!” she said. “Bret, I’m ashamed of you acting like this, and in my own home, and Cade, please, you can leave the papers on the bureau desk. I’ll make sure my father receives them.”
    “Forgive me, Gabrielle.” Caden bowed politely. He turned to her guest. “And you too, Mr. McGowan. I only wish to make your acquaintance and be of whatever assistance I may.” He smiled respectfully at Gabrielle. “Your father has taken me into his confidence and I would never do anything to jeopardize that trust with either his family or friends.” He nodded at Bret.
    Caden glanced down at the Persian carpet and stepped over to the bureau desk by the second bay window. He removed the papers from his black leather valise and placed them on top. Satisfying himself once more that everything was in order, he turned and walked toward the hallway.
    “Sorry, Doctor,” Bret called from across the parlor. “Gabrielle is right. No need for everyone to get off on such a bad start.” Mr. McGowan extended his hand. “I would like to extend an invitation to you and your family to attend my party this