Texas Rose

by Jolene Faye

  ~*~ ~*~

  As dawn began to break over the small farm's landscape, Sybil sighed softly over her coffee watching the shimmer of last night's sleet play along the frozen branches of the tree just outside the cabin window. She had thought of Jed and whether he'd been warm last night as the fire crackled against the quiet of the small cabin. A warm smile creased against the sleepiness of her face as she imaged him, slumped by the years panning relentlessly over some winding creek somewhere. He had been doing exactly that some six years ago when he'd found her bleeding, infected and near death. Jedediah Wilks had been the angel sent to save her that warm summer morning. She had ridden so long getting as far away from John Henry Horner as fast as she could. The pain in her body along with the memories of the horrors pushed her to stretch her mare to its limits. Running not only from John Henry, but also from the realization she had shot and killed an upstanding man of society, Sybil knew a posse would be short on her heels. The darkness of night hung heavy on her fevered, weary body as the mare finally collapsed under the strain of their getaway. Crawling, pulling her leg from under the heaving body of the exhausted mare, Sybil had reached the edge of the creek and tried to sip the coolness of the water before collapsing herself.

  The sun shimmered brightly along the bubbling stream of the clear mountain creek running lazily over the rocks. Jedediah dipped his worn handkerchief into the coolness of the creek before running it slowly over the worn wrinkles of his forehead. The stumbling of hooves beside him on the loose stones of the creek bed found him wheeling around, his rifle pointed squarely on the exhausted eyes of the large black mare. "Good Heavens," he exclaimed quietly as he rose, lowering his weapon and began a slow approach toward the animal, "You look dead on your feet." As the mare snorted her unintelligible reply and lowered her head to the stream, Jed washed the coolness of his handkerchief over the back of his neck and scanned the area. The mare, though winded and worn, had been well dressed. An expensive looking saddle crowned the large regal beast's back with a small tapestry bag loosely dangling from the confines of the saddle straps. His pale blue eyes still scanning the open area around him, Jed patted the mare as she seemed to have her fill of the water. A deep worry began to claw at his chest as he traced over the dark colors of the tapestry bag. Somewhere out there is a woman, who this horse belongs to he thought quietly, lifting his bedroll and bag from the rocks before tossing them in the back of his small wagon. He had been looking forward to getting back home, but now with the surprise of the abandoned horse and the worry of its possible owner, Jed staked his mule to a nearby tree and turned back toward the mare. Starting off down the creek edge, Jed smiled as the gentle nudge shoved him forward. Turning back to find the large black mare following him, Jed laughed softly. "If you'd lead the way, this would go much faster," he joked at the beast, a bit taken back as the animal seemed to comply and walked in front of him. Looking back at his mule and wagon, Jed's worries grew immensely as the creek curved. This was no place for a woman to be traveling alone, his mind muttered before the soft neighing of the mare ahead of him broke his train of thought. The beast pawed at the loose stones of the creek edge, shaking its head vigorously as it neighed into the warm morning breeze. Looking past the large mare, Jed focused his eyes on a crumpled, twisted mess of dark clothing lying half in the shallow slope of the creek bank. Steadying his nerves as he approached the unmoving mass of darkness, Jed cocked back on his rifle before pushing the end of the barrel into the lump of clothing. A low, almost inaudible moan floated up into the breeze and squeezed his heart. "Lady, lady," he called lowly as he stooped bending toward the mess of clothing. His heart leapt again as a small, wary voice pleaded, "Please.. please help me." "Dear Lord," he almost yelled as he pressed against the soaked cloth and watched the blood-soaked blond hair fall from the beaten, broken face of a young girl.

  Sybil fought for days against the fleeting images of her father, shooting John Henry, being surrounded by Indians and violent sickness. In the heat of her dreams, nightmares and memories, a soft chanting and the strong but soothing smell of sage and sandalwood soothed the fevered sickness. Opening her weary eyes, Sybil focused against the darkness and smoke finding a caring gaze in the face of an ancient looking Indian woman. "Ssshhh, easy now. You've been sick for a very long time," the softness of a woman's voice drifted through the heat and smoke of the darkened room. Turning her head slowly toward the voice, Sybil saw the deep brown, gentle eyes of a woman staring back at her as a soft pressure caressed over the length of her cheek. She seemed like a dream as the hazy image in the smoke filled room seemed to shimmer around her. The heavy accent tinted her words though Sybil thought she spoke English very well. "I am Little Feather," the beautiful Indian woman continued, lifting her eyes and hand over Sybil toward the ancient but soft face of the older woman, "This is my mother Morning Dove." Sybil blinked slowly taking in the soft features of both the women's faces she'd thought were images in some sort of dream. The brightness of the sunlight pierced the darkened room as the one called Little Feather turned and lifted a flap calling for other's to come. "She is awake," the soft concern of a gentleman's voice questioned as Sybil narrowed her eyes against the light. Watching the bent, limping approach of the man, she shook herself trying to awaken from the dream she must have been having.

  Sybil grew close to Little Feather, the eldest daughter of the old Kiowa medicine man, Running Buck, and his wife. The small 'tribe' as Jed so loving called them had taken up residence on the furthest part of his small spread. While she had always been taught to be cautious around Indians, the fact that Jed thought so highly of them eased her mind. The small 'tribe' had been a small family that Jed had known for years. The medicine man and his wife Morning Dove, along with their two daughters Little Feather and Dancing Moon, one son in law White Eagle and a small child shared Jed's small farmland. As Sybil regained her strength and moved into the cabin of the old farmer, her relationship with Little Feather grew. White Eagle had often worked around the town helping people with their farms or tracking for the sheriff. Running Buck and his wife Morning Dove were often called upon by the town's doctor when 'modern' medicines didn't quite heal as they should. Little Feather and Dancing Moon often made and traded skins, coats, blankets and moccasins with the town's folks while tending to the raising of Little Feather and White Eagle's young son. Jed was a wily sort of fellow. After she recovered and moved into his small cabin, he left on one of many of his panning trips leaving her in the watchful care of his Indian friends. Though she had been heading toward her uncle's place in New Orleans, the growing friendship with Little Feather and the love she found in the company of the old man and the Kiowa family comforted Sybil and had her decided to stay with them.

  Little Feather was at least ten years older than Sybil, but they became the best of friends. While Dancing Moon was still young and not yet married, the two women often teased her over the longing looks she'd share with the grocer's young son Daniel. Daniel had taken over the deliveries from his father when people outside of town placed orders. The young man always made the last delivery to the farm so he could linger, help White Eagle with things around the farm and spend time with Dancing Moon. When the budding courtship first begun, Sybil and Little Feather often spoke with White Eagle about the possibility of it growing into something more than the harmless courtship. White Eagle well knew the necessity of the old ways changing and after a long while had deemed Daniel a suitable husband for his sister in law. Running Buck on the other hand took longer to convince that the white son of a grocer would love and provide for his youngest daughter if the courtship grew into a relationship. The laughter and happiness of the two young lovers pulled heavy at Sybil's heart. She had missed the years of her youth caring for her frail mother, then for her father. Being twenty-three hadn't made her too old to find love, but often when she'd hold the young son of Little Feather and White Eagle, Sybil wondered if she'd ever have that kind of love or children of her own.

  In the si
x years since her father's murder, Sybil had come to love the older man almost as much as she did her father. Little Feather and Dancing Moon became the sisters she had never had. After Jed had saved her, nursed her back to health and moved her into his old cabin, she continued to live on with him. Over the years of the unlikely couple sharing the stories of their separate lives, Jed more so than Sybil, always fretted over the old Indian medicines leaving her face and neck scarred so badly. One evening of the makeshift family celebrating the birth of Little Feather's second child, White Eagle had assured Sybil her scar was a symbol of her strength and should never be looked at as a mark of shame. After one of his famous panning trips, Jed had returned to the small farm with news of the man Sybil was sure she had killed. John Henry had been severely injured but luckily for him the darkness and the heavy mahogany table took most of the damage from the shot. The story was told that due to a letter in the local sheriff's possession and proof of his misdealing obtained from a man in New Orleans, John Henry Horner had been arraigned for the murder of the area's largest landowner. Though his own social status swayed the judge to forego the verdict of hanging, John Horner had been sentenced to an Oklahoma prison for the rest of his life.

  A deep seeded hate filled her at the news, but also a relief that she hadn't actually murdered a man gave her hope at some semblance of a normal life. Though she had taken her mother's maiden name and portrayed herself as Sybil Delacroix, the dark fear of being found out some day haunted her relentlessly. There were no lawman looking for her if she hadn't actually murdered him and in that idea she found a peace within herself and oddly even with the long rugged scar that marked the event forever in her life. Sybil knew she still owned the ranch and struggled over the decisions left to her. Often she thought of returning to her childhood home and resuming with the cattle business her father had left behind. Her family was here now, she reminded herself, remembering the devastating loss of both her mother and father. She had long discussions with White Eagle and Little Feather. She had told them of her lack of desire to return to her father's ranch and offered it to them to run and live on. It wasn't much of a surprise when they turned down the offer. She too felt that she was at home on the small farm amongst the people she loved as dear as family. While they refused to let her sign the land over to them, they had decided that a few trips to work the big ranch could be possible. On a short trip to New Orleans, Sybil and her uncle made arrangements for the ranch before she returned home, to the small farm.

  Even though his love for the young woman couldn't keep him away from the temptation of gold panning, Jed had always returned to the cabin every few months to check up on her. The warm smile creased her lips again as she remembered Jed's gift to her the previous Christmas. Somehow he always managed to come home for Christmas. His gift of the deed to the farm just the year before had endeared her to the man, even after her protests of him giving away all that he owned. "I'm not going to live forever and you are the daughter I never had," his soft wrinkled smile insisted. The memory of their last Christmas warmed Sybil but not nearly as much as knowing that with tomorrow being Christmas, Jed would be home soon.

  The sudden low warning of the dog's growl shook Sybil from her memories as she turned in the chair focusing on the raised ridge along the spine of the black and white bird dog named Bird. The hunting dog that had once accompanied Jed on so many of his panning trips had begun to feel her age over the years and began staying at the farm with Sybil when Jed would leave on another adventure. Quickly but quietly, Sybil reached for the rifle standing in the corner behind the door and glanced back to the warning stance of the old dog. "What is it Bird," she asked the animal as she cocked the rifle and reached for the door. Swinging the door open wide, Sybil aimed the rifle chest height and stepped through the doorway pressing the end of the barrel against the thickness of a man's chest. Laughter rang out as his heavy bags thudded against the porch and his hands flew up in the air, "Don't shoot Honeybee, it's just me." "Jed," she squealed as she steadied the rifle and stood it against the old wooden chair beside the door. Wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug, Sybil sighed softly against his shoulder before stooping to lift his bags. "I'm so glad you're home. I wasn't expecting you so early. How did the Pup do? Did you have any luck?" The questions poured out of her as she ushered the old man into the warmth of the cabin. Watching the limping old frame as he moved past her filling his coffee cup, Sybil smiled as Jed settled into the old worn deer hide chair in front of the fireplace. As the early morning sun rose and filled the small cabin with its warmth and light, the two talked of Jed's recent travels and small discoveries. "I think I might be getting too old for all this Honeybee," Jed sighed, his soft crystal blue eyes dancing in the flickering flame of the fireplace. "The last two weeks, these old knees have done their work on me," he continued bringing his proud but loving gaze toward Sybil, "I did manage to find you something though." Pointing at a dark wrap of cloth near the door, Jed sipped slowly on his coffee watching Sybil rise and grab the satchel. "Merry Christmas Honeybee," he exhaled slowly into the steam of his coffee cup as Sybil unwrapped the cloth finding several small bundles of wrapped saplings. Eyeing the damp wetness of the root bundles, Sybil smiled. She wasn't as wise to plants as Jed was but she recalled a conversation they had the past summer about how much she loved to plant flowers. "It's rare to find roses like that in the dead of winter. They will take some love and care, but I thought you might like to plant some around this old place." "Oh Jed," Sybil smiled and reached to hug the old man, "I know they will be beautiful. Thank you!" Sybil prepared a large breakfast as Jed unwrapped the thick woolen coat and brightly patched quilt Sybil had made him for Christmas. After their long quiet meal, Jed excused himself to the small room they had added to the barn as his sleeping quarters. Watching him walk out to the barn, Sybil gathered up his pile of dirty clothing and turned back into the cabin smiling. It was good to have him home.

  Sybil milled around the barn humming a soft tune as the happiness of Jed's return home drowned out the uneasiness of her latest dream. She had longed to talk with Little Feather about the dream as she usually did, but until Jed showed up, she had been completely alone on the small farm. As they had done the previous year, the Kiowa family had made the trip to the ranch shortly after Thanksgiving leaving Sybil on the farm by herself. With all the animals taken care of, Sybil knocked softly on the door of Jed's room. "Jed, you awake," she called lowly not wanting to disturb him if he were still asleep. Smiling at the softness of his voice floating under the door, she walked in carrying the pail of milk. "Oh nice, fresh milk, that's just want I wanted," the sly old man smiled and dipped his cup into the pail. Sybil laughed and watched the gentle features of his face twist into the young playful tones she saw many times before. Though he claimed he couldn't remember his age, Sybil figured he was near sixty or that the years of hard work and panning had aged him beyond his years. She never doubted he would have been a handful when he was younger and loved the days when his old aching body let him remember those days. He had always acted like he was sneaking a treat when she'd visit him after milking the cow, but Sybil always made it a point to 'stop by' with the fresh milk when he was home. "I'm going into town shortly, did you want to join me and maybe stop by and see Robert," Sybil questioned as she watched his brow wrinkle and his smile fade. "Jed," she started again against the loud sigh his shoulders sank under, "he's your son. Of course he couldn't understand why you signed the farm over to me. I didn't myself, but he's ok with all that now." "That boy made his own life," the old man snorted and crossed his arms over his chest with a huff, "The city is my home, that's what he said. He wanted it and he got it." Sybil sighed shaking her head softly as she lowered beside the pouting old man on his small bed. "He's still your son Jed and he loves you as much as you love him. You both just need to stop being so stubborn!" She knew there had always been uneasiness between the man and his son. From Robert's stories, Sybil knew it had all started when Jed's wife Martha ha
d passed from pneumonia. Though they still talked sporadically, the two never shared the closeness Sybil thought a father and son should. Ignoring the old man's pouting act, Sybil finished telling him her plans for the day before heading toward the door. "Honeybee," the old man called quietly behind her, "could you bring him that box for me?" Spotting the small plain wrapped box on the table, Sybil ran her finger over the crude twine tie and smiled as she agreed.

  It was near noon as she rode into town placing her delivery order before making her way to Robert's office. "Robert Wilks - Attorney at Law" Sybil smiled as she read the sign making her way into the warmth of the building. "Sybil," his deep voice rang out as he stepped through a doorway and made his way to her. Wrapping his arms around her tightly, he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek and whispered, "Merry Christmas." The man still made her shiver even after two years. The warmth of his lips so near her scar tingled as she pulled back staring into the smiling ice blue eyes that matched his father's. "Merry Christmas to you too Robert, it's so good to see you. I meant to get into town earlier but I've just been so busy. Your father is home you know? You should come have a Christmas supper with us this evening." Sybil leaned back into the warmth of his arms still wrapped lightly around her waist. Even through the thickness of her coat, she thought she could feel the heat of his hands pressing against her skin. The soft smile on his lips as he raised a hand and brushed her hair over her shoulder reminded her of so many evenings before. Sybil steeled her nerves using every ounce of her will to not lean forward and feel the softness of his kiss on her lips once more. After Jed had found Sybil and nursed her back to health, he had introduced her to Robert on one of their first trips into town. Back then he had only been a law clerk to the old lawyer, but Sybil knew that he'd be the one in charge someday. Robert had only been the second man, other than his father Jed, who didn't look at her like monster with the hideous scar across her face. During their short courtship, he would often press soft kisses along the ragged mark and tell Sybil that it only enhanced her true beauty. She recalled the countless evenings his hands and lips wrapped around her forcing out her long suppressed feelings of wanting to be with a man. Last year when he had finished his schooling and announce he was to marry Jane Summerall broke Sybil's heart, as well at Jed's. She had fallen for the handsome up and coming lawyer and son of the man who saved her but more so Jed had his own hopes for the two. Everyone in town, including Sybil knew he had only agreed to marry Jane under the promise of her father turning over the law practice to Robert. Though she mourned the loss of the love and romance that had been growing between the two, Sybil watched Robert's decision break his father's heart over and over again.

  As the two, almost reluctantly, separated Sybil pulled the small plainly wrapped box from her satchel as Robert continued his explanation of his own plans for the holiday. She knew Robert and Jane spent every holiday with her father, whose home was a full day's ride from town. Silently she had hoped one year Robert would return home to his own father and to her. "Jed asked me to give you this," she muttered as she slipped the box into Robert's hands. Watching him turn the small package over and over again before settling in his chair, Sybil sat in the smaller upholstered chair across the large finely polished desk. "Sybil," the softness of his voice almost a whisper as he tugged slowly at the twine, "do you ever wonder what could have happened?" Brushing her fingers across her cheek pushing the long locks of her golden blonde hair behind her ear, Sybil sighed watching the lowered eyes of the man she had imaged so many times spending her life with. "Jane is a beautiful woman Robert," Sybil muttered avoiding the question and lowered her eyes to the silver frame slipping out of the box. A low mournful groan brought her gaze back up to Robert's face as he traced his finger slowly over the picture. Sybil stood and made her way slowly around the desk, glancing down at the picture before pressing her palm over his shoulder. A soft smile pressed her lips at the image of a beautiful and happy family in the photograph. Feeling the shake of a stutter in his shoulder, Sybil leaned down hugging Robert tightly before whispering against his ear, "Y'all looked so happy."

  As she waved her goodbyes to Robert and headed back toward the farm, Sybil slumped low in the saddle at the slow steady gait of her mare. The smiling faces in the old photograph seemed to be etched in her mind as she thought over the chance she had missed with Robert. She would be twenty-nine soon, she thought as the images of her, a man and a child haunted her mind. Slow tears burned against the coldness of her cheeks as she rode silently mourning a family she'd never have. Yelps and growls ahead of her path snapped her from her solemn thoughts as she rounded a curve in the trail. Narrowing her eyes against the peaks of sunlight filtering through the trees, Sybil pressed her fingers over her brow and focused on the sight of Bird poised, ridge raised and staring into a clump of boulders. Bird had always followed her into town and often stayed behind frolicking in the woods while Sybil attended her business. She had heard the lonesome wail of wolves earlier that morning. They had been frequenting the area lately, but thankfully there had been no reports of attacks. As her mare drew nearer, Sybil unstrapped the rifle from her horse's side and slowly slid out of the saddle. "Bird," she whispered as she tiptoed toward the old hound. Before the breath fully left her lips the old bird dog lunged toward the pile of boulders, a loud yelp followed by the flash of grey fur barreling toward her sent Sybil reeling backwards. The wolf leapt over Sybil as the shot fired into the darkness of the trees. Whispering a silent prayer of thanks, Sybil rolled to her stomach and watched the wild animal disappear into the woods. As she pushed herself to her hands and knees in the wet snow, Bird's lonesome howl prickled the small hairs at the back of her neck. Knowing the wolves rarely travelled alone, Sybil quickly spun on her knees, rifle at the ready and stared toward the wagging tail of the old bird dog just behind one of the large rocks. Straining her ears against the silence listening for any tell of more wolves, Sybil stood slowly keeping her eye on the rear of the dog. "Bird, come," she commanded lowly keeping her rifle aimed at the pile of boulders. The old mama dog ran to her with tail wagging and tongue hanging out in a delighted grin nudging its head against Sybil's knee before trotting back behind the large boulder. Sybil crept slowly toward the old bird dog, knowing if another wolf were behind the boulders the dog's greeting wouldn't have been so friendly. Lowering the barrel over the top of the dog's head, Sybil stepped widely around the first large boulder and fixed her eyes on the small dark hollow between the rocks. Small miniature caves like this one were a common occurrence in the woods, many times the small makeshift caves created by the settling of the large boulders from the mountain tops were the home of smaller critters like rabbits, badgers and skunks. Sybil's nose wrinkled at the last thought, sniffing lightly against the low breeze silently hoping Bird hadn't found and agitated yet another skunk burrow. Sybil leaned closer narrowing her eyes peering into the darkness of the small burrow as a low, soft sound floated to her ears.

  The muffled sound seemed to float in the cool darkness of the burrow as Sybil's eyes traced over a lump of darkness pressed into the back corner of the makeshift cave. Inhaling deeply but quietly, Sybil tried to pick of the scent of any animal that may have made the small burrow its shelter. Bending to her knees, Sybil crawled cautiously closer to the ragged opening of the burrow. Her breath knotted in the back of her throat as the soft murmur of sound floated up again. Steeling her nerves as the darkness of the lump moved, Sybil pushed her palm into the small drift of snow at the opening of the burrow and widened the hole. Again the sound tested her nerves as she reached carefully into the dimness of the burrow and wrapped her fingers around a thick, wet strap. As she pulled the light mass of dark canvas toward the opening of the burrow, Sybil's eyes widened and her words choked in her throat. "Oh God," she exhaled barely a breath as a small blue hand spilled from the folds of the material. Sliding her other hand under the mass of dark, frozen materials, Sybil carefully angled the lump through the small burrow's opening. Pulling the damp froze
n leather of a satchel from around the tattered and twisted wool blanket, Sybil unfolded the clump of materials tracing her eyes over a bundle of light pink wool embroidered with a flower and the single word Rose. The soft low and desperate murmur rattled in her hands as the pink bundle moved slowly. Pulling at the thin wet material, tears stung Sybil's eyes finding the small, lightly blued body of a child.

  "Jed! Jed," she screamed as the mare's hooves thundered their approach to the cabin. "Jed come quick," Sybil's voice broken and shaky as she slid off the saddle wrapping her arms around the large satchel hanging from her neck. "What is it Honeybee," the old man's voice full of worry followed by the dragging of his bum stagger as he tried to keep pace with the long strides Sybil set running into the warmth of the cabin. Closing the door behind him as his heart pounded in his chest, Jed turned to find Sybil's shocked, tear stained face looking up at him over a soaked bundle on her bed. "Good Lord Jed, it's a baby," she cried as she unwrapped the wet blankets from around the small lightly blue skin of a small child. Quickly snatching the quilt from her bed wrapping it around the child, Sybil looked to Jed with fear and worry in her eyes. "She's so cold Jed, so tiny and so cold," Sybil continued to sob as she pulled the bundle of quilt to her chest and headed toward the fireplace. "What? How? Where did you find her," the confusion in his voice asked as he added another two logs to the fireplace and poked moving them around into the flames. Sybil rocked in the chair slowly, rubbing her hand over the quilt trying to warm the child. "She was tucked in a hollow Jed, inside that satchel," Sybil nodded her head toward the soaked satchel that had fallen to the floor near the bed, "she won't open her eyes." As the heavy tears streamed down Sybil's cheeks, she kept up the slow gentle warming of her hands over the child's wrapped body and rocked her softly. "I'll fetch the Doc. Come on Bird," Jed hollered as he disappeared out the door. "Dear Lord," Sybil whispered softly as she traced her fingers over the small cold features of the child's face, "please take care of her."