Samuel’s gut clenched as dreadful thoughts flashed through his mind. One false move or even a look Soto didn’t like and some of these men could die today. His father. His brother. His neighbors. Men with families that depended on them.
The beat of the rain on the roof matched the rhythm of his heart. As fast as his heart was beating, though, Samuel’s mind continued to race even faster. His next thought was of Louisa and his babe. His child hadn’t even been born. Would he die today without having had a chance to even see him or her? Without ever holding the babe in his arms even once?
Several of the men at the bar startled when a woman’s scream pierced the air. They heard a struggle as she kept shrieking. He wanted to race out and help her but he couldn’t abandon his father and brother. Hopefully, someone would hear her and come to her aid.
Soto lifted his scarred lips into a half-smile. “One of my men must have found a passing woman. I have many men hiding around here.” He made a big sweeping gesture.
The boast didn’t ring true. Again, Samuel translated and continued to do so.
Father slowly stood, his hand still holding his big pistol. He had another pistol in his belt. “Señor Soto, the three of you will die here today unless you leave now.” It was a warning wrapped in patience.
“No. It is you three gringos who will die,” Soto said. He waved his pistol at the men near the bar. “And maybe some of them too.”
“It’s time you were stopped,” Father told him. “You and your men have harassed and stolen from this settlement and others long enough. It ends now.” Now it was a warning wrapped in impatience.
“Put down your weapons, walk out that door, and leave,” Father commanded, his voice cold and stern. “You won’t be thieving today but I will let you live if you will leave the settlement.”
It surprised Samuel that Father would give them a chance to leave. Perhaps he worried that Samuel or Steve might be shot during a gunfight. But Samuel knew for certain that if Soto didn’t comply, his father would kill at least one of the three men standing before them. The primary question in Samuel’s mind was which one? Which one should Samuel shoot and which one should Steve shoot? He decided his father would pick Soto for himself. Samuel decided to target the one who stood to the left of Soto. “Take the right one,” Samuel whispered through clenched teeth, hoping his brother heard and Soto had not.
Samuel suddenly wondered if the bandits had put fresh powder in their weapons. He had to assume that they did. Soto might be mean, but he wasn’t a fool. They’d probably replenished their powder just before coming inside, just as he and Steve had done.
“Señor,” his father said with a nod of his chiseled chin toward Samuel and Steve. “I’m warning you a third time. Leave now. My two sons are expert shots. And I never miss.” Now it was a pure warning.
Soto laughed. “Ha. You Americanos brag too much.”
“It ain’t bragging if it’s true,” Steve said.
Samuel still hoped they could talk the bandits into leaving. “We have six pistols to your four. Not good odds for you,” Samuel told them in Spanish. “You three are standing too close to hell right now.”
The man’s left eye twitched and both eyes widened just a blink before he aimed one of his weapons and stepped sideways.
Father correctly read Soto’s cues and fired his pistol first, hitting the right side of Soto’s chest. With a flying dive beneath the table, Father escaped Soto’s lead and snatched up his rifle.
As their father had trained them to do, Samuel and Steve both flopped downward just before the pistols of the other two bandits flashed. The lead balls flew over, splitting the air above Samuel’s head.
Simultaneously, Father fired his longrifle toward Soto. The bone-shaking boom rattled the thin wooden walls of the tavern.
At the same time, Samuel and Steve each fired both their pistols into Soto’s cohorts. The simultaneous four shots were deafening.
All three bandits jerked back with the impact of the lead balls. Soto’s two companions fell to the dirt floor but the Bandido Supremo still stood on his feet. Father’s rifle shot had only taken Soto’s ear off.
All the other men in the tavern had wisely ducked or plunged down behind the long bar or under tables.
Billowing, acrid gunpowder smoke clouded the dimly lit room.
Soto’s blood seeped from two wounds now. Even so, the bandit pointed his loaded flintlock and took aim at Father as he bellowed, “Bastardo!” The man lurched forward, snarling like a wounded animal.
Samuel could not allow the bandit to fire his weapon. “No!” Samuel yelled.
Steve was frenziedly reloading as was Father.
Having discharged both of his flintlock pistols, they were useless. Samuel dropped them and whipped out his long knife. With a flick of his wrist, the blade sailed across the room and smacked into Soto’s chest.
Wide-eyed, the bandit glanced down at the blade before he collapsed to the floor. It had taken two shots and a knife to kill him, but finally, the Bandido Supremo was dead.
At the same moment, Soto’s outside man cleared the door and charged in, knocking Steve over. The two engaged in fisticuffs while Samuel reloaded.
At the door edge, his father pointed his rifle outside to ensure no other desperados rushed toward them.
While Samuel reloaded, all the other men merely watched Steve and the bandit thrash about on the floor, throwing punches into each other, one after the other.
“Knock him a good one, Steve,” one said.
When Steve did, they all cheered. His brother was quite popular among the folks of the settlement.
The stout bandit tried to wiggle away but bumped into Soto’s body. At the sight of the knife protruding from Soto’s chest, the bandit appeared horror-struck. His features twisted and he slithered around the body.
“He’s a squirming serpent,” another man said.
The Mexican finally sprang up. He seemed to realize he couldn’t possibly beat Steve with his fists. A wild, crazed look crossed his sweaty face. He whipped out his long knife and charged Steve.
Steve’s strong arms caught the man’s wrist as the blade came at him, stopping the knife-edge mere inches away from his brother’s throat. Steve’s face grew red as he fought to keep his neck from being slashed open.
Within arm’s reach, Samuel watched the two carefully in case he needed to intervene. He wasn’t too worried. Steve was an excellent fighter. With three older brothers who loved to roughhouse, he had to be. And he wanted to allow Steve a chance to beat his adversary on his own.
With a grunt, Steve harshly twisted the fellow’s arm behind him and jerked it upward. They heard a snap and the knife fell to the ground.
The Mexican yelped in pain and bent over at the waist holding his elbow.
Seeing no further bandits, their father turned back to the remaining bandit. “Steve, kick that knife away from him.”
“Let’s hang him,” the tavern owner said.
Samuel retrieved his knife, and slowly wiped it on a bar rag while glaring at the remaining bandit.
Breathing hard, Steve swiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. It looked as though one of his eyes would be blackened. His brother took a deep breath between his gasps. “Let me have at him again,” he said. “I’ll finish him off.”
Father shook his head and moved closer to the bandit. Scowling into the man’s wild eyes, he said, “No, there’s been enough bloodshed. We’ll use him to send a warning to the rest of Soto’s band of murdering thieves.”
Samuel sheathed his blade in its buffalo tail scabbard.
His face severe, Father said in a hardened voice, “Samuel translate this. He must leave and tell his companions…his compañeros…to never come to this settlement again, or they too will be killed and their bodies fed to the buzzards. Tell him we are showing him mercy by letting him go. In exchange, he must convince the other bandits to leave East Texas. Make him swear it on his mother’s name.”
&nb
sp; The Mexican listened to Samuel and then swore the oath, his voice quivering.
Father’s icy stare must have chilled the man to his soul because the would-be thief made the sign of the cross with a shaky hand and then ran out of the bar on legs that trembled.
Their first deadly battle with Mexicans was over. Would there be others?
Chapter 4
Noon Monday,
Red River at thirty feet
Since the killing took place in his tavern, the owner took responsibility for seeing that the three bandits were buried in unmarked graves somewhere in the forest. One of the other settlers volunteered to return the two stolen horses to Jonesboro since he was headed there anyway.
Samuel, Steve, and their father left soon after the bodies were carried out to a waiting wagon.
“Now to face a more serious problem,” Father said.
On their way back to the homeplace, none of them spoke about the killing. They’d killed three men who needed killing and spared the life of the fourth. That was all there was to it. Now it was time to move on. They all accepted the hard fact that in the West, the harshness of the frontier was a far cry from civilized cities.
Men came West for a future, but some also came to escape a past. Samuel suspected that Soto and the other bandits had fled Mexico for crimes they’d committed there. But sooner or later, justice has a way of catching up to wrongdoing.
As they rode by the river on the way home, there was no denying that the level had come up even more, perhaps as much as another five feet.
Soon after they got back, it started hailing. After they put up the horses, Father and Samuel ran to their cabin and Samuel hurried inside his home to seek refuge from the storm.
He found Louisa sitting in her rocker, sewing tiny baby clothes by the light of a single oil lamp and the hearth fire. The touching scene contrasted sharply with the brutality he’d just experienced at the tavern. He decided there was no sense telling her about the gunfight with the bandits. It would just distress her and he didn’t want her upset, not while she was carrying their child.
They both had enough to deal with now.
But the sight of his wife warmed his heart and helped to erase the ugliness of the morning. It also made him even more determined to get her to safety. Her short stature and slim figure had always made him feel especially protective of her. Even now, at twenty-four, except for her tummy, she was still quite trim. And she was still overwhelmingly sensual to him. Her nearness often made his senses spin.
But there was more to his wife than physical beauty. She possessed physical strength and courage that contrasted with her delicate body and attractiveness. And she had a way of making him feel blissfully happy and fully a man, as though he could do anything in this new land called Texas, with her by his side.
When Samuel came in, Louisa’s heart seemed to automatically lighten. Her handsome husband’s presence was usually enough to make her giddy with happiness. But the look on his rugged face concerned her. Had something happened or was it just this horrible weather?
“I hear the hail,” she said.
“It’s not too big. About the size of a bean.”
“Is the Red out of its banks yet?” she asked.
“No, but it’s getting close. Father and Hollis both think it won’t be long before it is.”
That news made her chest tighten. She knew what it would mean if the river spilled over. She would lose her home. She fought hard against the tears that threatened.
“I won’t even think about leaving until it reaches the top of the bluff,” she said, taking a careful stitch. “Even then, I think we could stay. You know our land is protected by a natural levee.” She had to believe that the ridge of sediment alongside the river would hold back a flood. Perhaps Samuel’s concern was premature.
“Louisa, that levee may not be high enough or strong enough to protect us. A strong current could wash it away in minutes. I didn’t want to believe it could flood either. But that river is turning into a monster.”
With a shiver of panic, she said, “This place is more than just a mere shelter for our bodies. It’s a home for our hearts. For our love. For our marriage. It’s the only home I’ve ever known. I wanted it to be the home for our children. To leave it behind would be to leave a part of myself.”
“Darling, the home for our love is inside of us.” He knelt and placed one hand on her tummy and the other on his heart. “A house is built with logs and beams. But our home and our child’s home can only be built with our love and our dreams. It can be anywhere. Wherever we are—the three of us—and the rest of our family.”
She smiled down at his hand. “Your right, of course.” She tried to hide her distress, but inside she thought she might shatter.
“We have to think of the babe,” Samuel said. “The river is rising fast. You can’t ride Texana in your condition. I need to get you away from here while we can still take a wagon.”
Riding the mare Samuel had given her as a wedding gift through the stunning forests surrounding them was one of the things she enjoyed the most about living at Pecan Point. “I miss riding Texana and our rides together.”
Since she couldn’t ride her beautiful horse while pregnant, Steve had suggested breeding the chestnut mare. And after spending some time with Father Wyllie’s stallion, this fall Texana would provide them with a sure to be fine-looking foal. The only question was would the foal’s color be black or chestnut? Samuel was betting on black. She was sure it would be chestnut.
“Don’t worry. You’ll ride again. I’m sure Melly will be more than delighted to watch the baby while you get out for a ride now and then.”
But would she be riding here? Through the lush and forested land, she loved so much? Or, if floodwaters forced them to leave, somewhere else? Somewhere unknown…and foreign to her?
Louisa set her sewing aside and glanced up at him. He gave her that smile that always made her want to kiss him. Maybe everything would be all right after all. It would stop raining soon. She didn’t believe they would have to leave. But there was no point in pressing him any further. “I’m hungry and have a sudden hankering for biscuits and gravy for breakfast. Will you see if Melly will make us some?”
He leaned down and gave her that kiss she wanted. His warm kiss held another kind of hunger. He helped her up and wrapped her in a fierce embrace. Then he drew her mouth to his and captured her lips again as if he were trying to kiss away their troubles.
When he finally released her, she smiled with tenderness and reached up and grasped his cheeks. “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. I just know it.”
By midday, when Samuel and Steve checked the water level again, the river covered the trunks of the trees that grew along the sides of the river’s banks making them look more like bushes than trees. He estimated the water level to be at least thirty feet. And since the mighty river was a good thousand feet across, the amount of flowing water was enormous and its force formidable.
The sky remained overcast and dark in the distance. Raindrops continued to pepper them and felt like tiny slaps against his face.
As they returned home, a large group of the town’s men rode up to the Wyllie homeplace. Samuel suspected they were here to seek his father’s opinion. An unofficial leader and protector of the settlement and well-respected, they often sought him out when faced with difficult decisions. Hardened by their lives on the edge of the West, these were men accustomed to trials and brutal challenges and they did what they had to do to survive. But the ominous threat posed by the Red River unsettled all of their hearts.
Samuel and Steve stood together by the horse shed and studied the group as they neared on their horses and mules.
“Some of them look scared witless,” Steve said.
Samuel couldn’t blame them. “A raging, rising river has a way of unsettling even the most courageous of men.”
“Yet the foolish and reckless will ignore the threat the river poses,” Steve said.
“I can almost predict which ones will be fools and which ones will give up.” Samuel suspected that some would run back to where they came from. If they could. The Red River’s long path ran south through the high plains and then east through the valley of North Texas before it turned south again and headed through the mossy gloominess of Louisiana. Their route home would be blocked for hundreds of miles. So most of them would likely turn south into the interior of Texas.
A little ragamuffin of a boy sat in front of one of the men whose wife had died. Samuel didn’t blame the man for not wanting to leave the boy alone at home. The situation could grow worse quickly.
Samuel’s father stepped outside along with Baldy and Louisa’s brother Adam.
William Mabbitt, the owner of one of Pecan Point’s two trading posts, spoke up. “Hello, the house.” He nodded to Samuel and Steve as they joined their father, Dr. Grant, and Adam. “We’ve come to see what plan we should develop in case the worst happens.”
What happens after the worst happens? Life changes, Samuel thought.
“Some of us think we should stay until the last minute,” a man named Johnny Scott said. “To protect our homes from thieves and renegade Indians.”
“And some of us have already packed up our wagons and are ready to leave now,” Alex Wetmore said. “The hail we had this morning in the settlement was as big as rifle lead. East of here, it was as big as beans, and near Jonesboro, Mr. Hunter assures me it was fully as big as hen’s eggs.”
“What say you, Mr. Wyllie?” asked Elijah Johnson.
The still mounted men all seemed to lean forward in their saddles as they waited for Samuel’s father to answer. Worry was thick in the air between them. So was indecision.
“As I told my sons when they asked my opinion, courage should always be tempered with caution,” his father said. “The boldest of you would be comfortable waiting until the water lapped at your heels. The most cautious would have left yesterday. The correct answer is likely somewhere between.”
“A few did leave yesterday,” Mabbitt said. “But I favor waiting. I can’t pack up an entire store.”
LAND OF STARS: The Texas Wyllie Brothers (Wilderness Dawning Series Book 2) Page 4
