by Vivi Holt
When he emerged, he smiled at her, packed all the newly-bought supplies into his saddlebags, mounted Hans in one smooth movement and trotted him toward her. She frowned – he wasn’t sticking to the plan. “What are you doing?”
He grinned. “I found your people.”
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
“Your people, they are here. The town is full of them.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘my people’.”
“You know …” He waved his hand around, and her gaze followed. The street was a hive of activity, people walking up and down the boardwalks and in and out of stores. Horses pulled buggies and wagons behind them and cowboys sauntered across the road, ten-gallon hats perched on sweaty heads. Her eyes widened as she realized every person she saw had blonde hair and blue eyes. Now she understood.
A woman bustled by, her arms full of groceries, two boys playing tag around her skirts. She almost tripped over them. “Boys, stop it. Please don’t do zat – you vill be ze death of me!”
Lotte smiled. “Excuse me? I was wondering, that accent of yours – where is it from?”
The woman glanced at her, frustration still marring her pretty face. “I vas born in Wiesbaden, in Hesse.” She smiled and moved on, still admonishing the boys.
Lotte nodded, walked down the street and asked a few more people the same question before returning to face Antonio. “These are not my people. They are all German. Germans are entirely different from Dutch.”
Antonio looked confused. “You look the same. You sound the same.”
She sniffed. “We do not!”
He laughed. “Well, you do to me.”
A noise caught Lotte’s ear – it sounded like yelling. She turned her head, craning to find the source.
Antonio’s eyes narrowed. “Give me Lars.” He led the horse and the burro behind the dentist’s office and tied them up. She followed, confused. What was happening?
When they returned to the street, they peered from behind a whitewashed wall to see a mob of men marching toward them down the street. They waved pitchforks and shotguns over their heads, yelling as they went. “What are they saying?” asked Lotte, her brow furrowed over worried eyes.
“Something about longhorns … I cannot hear them well. I will see if I can get closer …” Antonio trotted across the street, headed for the angry mob.
“No …. wait!” hissed Lotte. “Come back!” But he didn’t listen.
Antonio shoved his hands in his pockets and meandered closer to the men. They were obviously angry about something, but what? He’d intended to find somewhere safe and quiet for Lotte to stay and make a life for herself, but so far the town of Mason wasn’t living up to his hopes.
A farmer stood nearby, his shotgun slung over his shoulder and his arms crossed. He stood a little apart from the rest of the group, watching. “What is happening?” asked Antonio.
The man glanced at him from beneath bushy blond eyebrows. “Cattle rustlers.” He spat in the dirt to emphasize his point. “They been giving us a hard time for months. Now the sheriff’s finally gone and caught some of them, and he’s got them locked up in the jail there.” He pointed to a small stone building with a sign out front that read Mason County Courthouse and Jail. “We want them, but he won’t give them up.”
Antonio shrugged. “Likely they will hang if they are found guilty.”
The man’s face reddened. “Maybe. And maybe they’ll be let off with a slap on the wrist. Around here parts, we aren’t given the respect we deserve.”
“Who are not?”
“Us Germans. They don’t like us. Those no-good rustlers were Confederate soldiers once, but they came back here after the war with no appetite for work – they just want to take what isn’t theirs and drink and carouse. We’re here trying to build a life for ourselves and our families, raising cattle and crops and building a town from the dust and dirt. And we want blood!” He shouted the last at the top of his lungs, pumping his fist in the air. The rest of the group roared in agreement, calling for the sheriff to release the suspected criminals for them to deal with.
Antonio backed away from them, now eager to get out of town. They had the supplies they needed, and he had no desire to get caught up in what the angry mob wanted to do. Besides, Lotte said these weren’t her people anyway.
The sheriff poked his head out the door. “Why don’t you folks just head on back home?” he said evenly. “I’ve got the thieves locked up nice and tight, and they’ll get what’s comin’ to ‘em. Just let the law follow its course now.” That only prompted another uproar.
Antonio hurried back to where Lotte waited with wide eyes. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“They are upset about some cattle rustlers. I believe they want to break into the jail, kidnap them and … well, we should get out of here before things go bad.”
She nodded and was about to speak when a shout from the group made her stop and stare. Antonio spun around and saw a group of men climb the stairs to the front of the courthouse. The doors had been shut tight and one of the men pounded on the solid wood with a closed fist. “Open up, Sheriff Brown. We want those men!” Another group of men were climbing into the courthouse via a window on the side of the building. He wondered how many deputies the sheriff had in there with him.
Antonio put his hands on his hips. “See that store right there – Sutler’s?”
Lotte nodded.
“Go inside and stay there until this is all over.” Antonio loosened the hammer loop on his holster, his eyes never leaving the jailhouse.
Lotte picked up her skirts, climbed the steps to the boardwalk and hurried into Sutler’s. He made certain she was inside, then stepped onto the street. Things were escalating, and he hated to think what might happen to the sheriff if the man resisted the mob’s request.
Just then, the courthouse doors flew open and the men who’d climbed in the window burst out, dragging three men by the arms behind them. The cattle rustlers struggled to get away, but couldn’t break free. They looked as though they’d already taken a few punches, and Antonio’s heart thundered – he only hoped the sheriff had arrested the right men. The rest of the mob on the street began shouting in delight, whooping and hollering as they slapped each other on the back, or hurried to get a closer look at the thieves.
The sound of hooves pounding the hard ground made everyone stop in their tracks and peer along the northern road into town. A Ranger on a stout gray horse galloped down the street, standing in his stirrups and leaning low over the horse’s neck. When he reached the crowd, he sat down in the saddle and pulled hard on the reins, sending the horse skidding to a stop in front of the courthouse. A badge gleamed on his black vest.
“Craig Fuller, Texas Ranger,” he stated loudly. “Ya let the sheriff put those men back where they belong, in that there jail cell.” He dismounted and strode over to face the men, his hands hovering just above the loosened hammer loops that guarded a pair of six-shooters.
Antonio’s fingers itched to feel the cold steel of his own weapons in his hands. He didn’t like where this was headed.
“Ranger, you chust get back on your hoss and head out of town,” said the ringleader of the group, a tall man with a long blond beard and a red kerchief tied loosely around his neck. “Zis doesn’t concern you.”
“It concerns me anytime someone breaks the law,” Fuller replied, his fingers twitching.
Another man shouted. “If you interfere, ve vill shoot you. Stay out of it and you live to see anozzer day!”
“Ja!” came the chorus of hollered responses as the group rallied around their ringleader. Those with shotguns lowered their muzzles toward the Ranger and cocked their weapons.
Antonio could see the Ranger’s hesitation. No doubt he was thinking that he might be able to quick-draw and take out one or two men, but he’d swallow a dozen bullets before it was over, and the mob would continue on. The lawman frowned, raised his hands over his head and t
ook a step back. The group took it as a sign – they shouted as one and set off down the street, dragging the accused men with them.
As soon as they were gone, the sheriff rammed through the front doors, pulling ropes from around his wrists. He threw his bonds on the ground, stared after the disappearing vigilantes and swore beneath his breath.
The Ranger stepped forward. “Howdy, Sheriff Brown.”
The sheriff looked his way, his face like thunder. “Ranger Fuller. Can you believe this?”
The Ranger rubbed his chin. “Where’re your deputies?”
“Out chasing down the rest of the rustlers. I had no idea this was brewin’, else I’d never have sent ‘em. Mason’s usually so quiet you can hear a pin drop a mile off.” He swore again and spat in the dirt. “Guess we’d better go after ‘em.”
“Guess so.” The Ranger’s eyes swept over the rest of the onlookers – and landed on Antonio. “Hey, you there.”
Antonio’s eyes narrowed. “¿Si?”
“Think ya could come and help us get them darn criminals back?”
Antonio glanced at Sutler’s closed door, then gave the Ranger a quick nod. “Si.” He stepped forward and shook the lawman’s hand.
“Thank ya kindly – what’s yer name?” asked the Ranger.
Antonio decided to proceed with caution. “Tony.”
“Well, Tony, don’t do nothin’ stupid,” added the sheriff with a grimace.
“Si, señor.”
“Anyone else?” shouted the Ranger, scanning the townsfolk. They quickly dispersed, eyes downcast, and he sighed. “Guess it’s just us, then. Let’s go.”
7
Lotte peered out the store window, along with the rest of the customers and staff at Sutler’s, but couldn’t hear what was going on outside. When Antonio led Hans out from behind the dentist’s office, she clutched her chest. What was he up to? As he mounted and rode out of town just behind the sheriff and the Texas Ranger, she groaned. Weren’t they supposed to be getting out of town so they didn’t get caught up in the violence? Now Antonio was doing just the opposite.
She hurried to the door, pushed it open and ran into the middle of the street. Blocking the glare of the sun with her hand, she stared after the retreating horses, her heart pounding, then ran after them.
Just outside of town a tall oak stood in the center of a field, a crowd of angry men congregated beneath it. She could see the three horses galloping across the field toward the tree, Antonio’s straight back and dark brown ten-gallon hat giving him away. She bent double with her hands on her knees, gasping for air. She hadn’t run so far in a long time, certainly not with stays pinching into her sides.
When she caught her breath, she went to the barbed wire fence separating the road from the field. She couldn’t get through it without snagging her dress, but she was close enough to see Antonio, the sheriff and the Ranger stopping by the tree. The sheriff seemed to be making some kind of appeal and the men were shouting back.
She gasped when she saw one of the alleged rustlers hanging from a branch of the oak, his lifeless body swinging gently back and forth on the rope around his neck. Lotte closed her eyes. When she opened them again, holding her sides where the stays pinched, she saw another man swinging beside the first. She cried out, then put her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound – she couldn’t let them see her. She threw herself on the ground and lay on her stomach to watch through the tall grass.
“Cut them down now!” commanded the sheriff. His request was met with angry shouts and whooping. He spun on his heel to face Antonio and the Ranger, his right hand on his holster.
“No, no, no …,” whispered Lotte. If the sheriff started shooting, Antonio would be caught in the fray. What if he were shot, or even killed? Her throat tightened – she didn’t know if she wanted to face the world without Antonio. Her husband and family were gone – he and that ridiculous burro were all she had left. She imagined traveling and setting up camp alone, just her and Lars, and it made her heart ache.
Just then, the sheriff turned and punched a man in the jaw. The man fell to the ground with a loud grunt. Another man swung at the sheriff, and soon Antonio and the Ranger were drawn into an all-out brawl. Fists flew, men struggled, and Lotte watched with wide eyes, her stomach tied in knots. A shot rang out and she covered her mouth … and saw one of the hanged men hit the ground. Someone had shot him down. She covered her eyes with her hands – she couldn’t bear to watch any longer.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw Antonio throw a man over the rump of the sheriff’s horse. The man soon righted himself behind the saddle. Antonio leaped onto Hans and both he and the sheriff set off at a gallop across the field, the Ranger following close behind. Shots rang out, and the men ducked and dodged as they fled.
Lotte stood, her mouth agape. As Antonio drew closer, his horse thundering across the field, she waved her arms over her head. “Antonio!”
He saw her, and a look of surprise flashed across his dark face. He rode over, pulled Hans to a halt, reached for Lotte’s hands and pulled her up behind him. “Hi-ya!” he shouted, and Hans leaped forward again into a gallop. Lotte wrapped her arms around Antonio’s waist and peered back over her shoulder. The infuriated mob ran after them, shaking fists and guns in the air. Another shot rang out behind them, followed by two more. She ducked and pressed her ear to Antonio’s back, holding him as tightly as she could, hearing his rapid heartbeat through his shirt.
Soon they’d left their pursuers behind and cantered into town. When they reached the courthouse, they all dismounted. “Thank ya for yer help, Tony” said the sheriff, shaking Antonio’s hand. “Wish it had gone better.”
“Don’t mention it,” replied Antonio. He watched the Ranger and the sheriff lead the remaining prisoner back into the courthouse and shut the door tight behind them, then faced Lotte with a frown. “What were you thinking coming after us that way? You could have been hurt!”
She laughed. “What was I thinking? You said we were leaving town so we wouldn’t get caught up in their problem, then you jump right in!”
He shrugged. “I … I could not just stand by. They killed two of them, you know.”
“I know,” Lotte sighed. “I saw. Do you think they really were rustlers?”
Antonio shrugged sadly. “Maybe. But sometimes innocent men are accused of things too. It is better to let the judge decide, I say.”
She nodded. “So what do we do now?”
“Now … we find a place to stay the night.”
“You don’t want to go?”
“I do, but I am too tired.” He shook his head. “I know you are too. And the animals need a good feed and rest. I will take them to the livery stable and find us a hotel for the night. Those men are likely to be on the lookout for us for a while. A hotel is the best place for us.”
Lotte managed a smile. “That sounds like a fine plan to me.”
Antonio yawned. Light slanted through a crack between the drapes and into his eyes. He squinted, sat up and rubbed the sleep clear. The bed wasn’t much, but it was better than the ground and he was grateful for it.
He glanced beside him at Lotte, on the other side of the bed. She’d kicked all her covers off and was covered in only her nightgown, with a scarf wrapped neatly around her head where it lay on the lumpy pillow. Her face looked sweet and soft, and he wished for a moment he could cup her cheeks in his hands and kiss her pink, puckered lips …
His cheeks flushed with warmth. Where had that come from? Well, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought of Lotte that way since they’d met – he had, more than once. But after the news about Maria and Consuela, he’d been too consumed by grief. Before Laredo, he’d felt almost hopeless about what he’d discover, only a faint glimmer of hope around the edges spurring him on. Then that gleam had been snuffed out, leaving him in darkness.
So now maybe the curtains of his soul were opening just a little and letting the light in. Hope was gone, but something new was growing i
n its place – something bright that let him awaken to a new day with a smile on his face again. He couldn’t say what, but knew it had something to do with the woman lying beside him.
He frowned – he shouldn’t be selfish about it. She deserved the best life possible, with a home and a family of her own. He wasn’t sure he could give her that, or if she wanted him to. And even though he’d tried not to notice, he knew she’d gotten plenty of hateful stares wherever they went, just by virtue of riding with a Tejano.
Even given the violence of the previous day, perhaps Mason would be the kind of place she could begin to build something for herself. It wasn’t likely the town was always so violent. Granted, it wasn’t ideal – vigilantism was a dangerous game to play, he knew from his youth in Mexico. But how many towns in Texas would have a facility to take in widows and care for them? He had no way of knowing, but so far Mason was his best lead.
She groaned in her sleep and rolled onto her back, a frown creasing her pretty face. He pulled the covers over her, his trepidation growing. What would she think when she discovered his plan? He only wanted the best for her – surely she’d see that.
He rubbed his face and yawned again, stood and put on the boots he’d left by the foot of the bed the previous night. He stretched his arms over his head and winced. There were bruises all over his torso and down his left side where angry townsfolk had managed to land punches the previous day. He was just glad none of them were any good with a gun.
Lotte snored softly and his heart pounded again at the sight of her gently parted lips. He’d offered to sleep on the floor and give Lotte the bed, but she demanded he stop acting like a fool – they didn’t have much money left and she’d be darned if they’d waste the last of her silver dollars for him to sleep on a hard wooden floor just to protect a widow’s honor. He grinned, remembering the way her eyes flashed and cheeks flushed. He hadn’t dared defy her wishes.
