LAND OF STARS: The Texas Wyllie Brothers (Wilderness Dawning Series Book 2)

by Dorothy Wiley

  She couldn’t help but grin as she rode, remembering the delicious tingle that burst through her when she’d kissed Steve’s cheek yesterday. It had been a spontaneous act, and she boldly did it without thinking. She was just so grateful that he’d brought a doctor to help her mother. She was glad she hadn’t thought about kissing him first because if she had, she never would have done it. She was glad she’d kissed him, even if it was only on his cheek.

  It made her wonder, though. What would a kiss on his lips feel like? What would it be like to be held in his strong muscled arms? What would it be like to…her eyes widened at the wicked thought. Since she’d never even been kissed, she was forced to rely heavily on her imagination.

  Ten minutes later, to the north, near the same creek that ran through town, she spotted the camp Steve described. A canopy of hardwood trees provided shade and the surrounding forest, dappled in white and pink dogwood blooms, provided a stunning setting. They had three wagons parked there beside a single large tent. Several horses grazed nearby, but Steve’s gelding was not among them. Her heart plunged with disappointment as she rode up.

  A big yellow dog barked once, but his tail wagged welcomingly.

  “Morning, ladies!” she called when they all stood as she rode near.

  “Good morning,” Mrs. Grant called back. “Don’t worry about Caddo. He’s a friendly dog if you’re friendly.”

  Rebecca dismounted and tied her mare to one of the wagons. “I brought some thank you gifts.” She handed the basket to Mrs. Grant.

  “What have we here?” Mrs. Grant asked, opening the basket.

  “I made buttermilk donuts to thank you and Dr. Grant and to thank Steve for bringing the doctor to Mother.”

  “They smell heavenly,” Mrs. Grant said.

  “And my father sent a bottle of whiskey for Dr. Grant. It’s in the bottom of the basket.”

  “Baldy will certainly enjoy that,” Mrs. Grant said.

  “The money in there is also yours, but the pistol, however, is mine,” she said with a laugh. Rebecca reached in and took the pistol and then stored it in her saddlebag. “Unfortunately, with all the strangers coming through town I find it necessary to carry a weapon.”

  “I like a lady who knows how to use a weapon,” a small, beautiful woman said, stepping toward her. “If you can’t defend yourself and your family, you don’t belong on the frontier.”

  Another attractive, taller young woman also stood nearby. Were one of them Steve’s wife or betrothed? A flicker of disappointment touched her heart.

  “I’m Louisa Wyllie, Samuel’s wife,” the smaller woman said, “and this is Abigail Wyllie, Thomas’ wife. Samuel and Thomas are Steve’s older brothers. They have a fourth married brother who is living in Arkansas now.”

  “Steve is the only brother who isn’t married,” Abigail said.

  Rebecca shook Louisa and Abigail’s hands. “Very pleased to meet you both. What a lovely family Steve has.”

  “Is your mother much improved?” Mrs. Grant asked.

  “She is so much better this morning. Nearly back to her old self. The medicine did her wonders. Father is staying with her until I get back.”

  “Louisa’s brother, Adam has a true gift for creating medicines,” Mrs. Grant said. “I’m so glad that one worked.”

  “Steve told me you just had a baby a couple of weeks ago,” Rebecca told Louisa. “Is that him?”

  Louisa nodded. “Yes, a son.” Pride beamed on her face as she bent to a nearby pallet and gently scooped up the infant. “We named him after Father Wyllie. We call him Little Stephen.”

  “May I hold him?” Rebecca asked.

  “Of course,” Louisa said and handed her the child.

  The babe’s eyes fluttered open when she took him and she was smitten at once. “Oh, he is so precious. Maybe someday I will be a mother too.”

  “Are you married? Or engaged?” Abigail asked her.

  “No, but I hope to be someday and to have children of my own.”

  For some reason, Abigail giggled at that.

  “Caring for a newborn is trying,” Louisa said, “but I’ve never enjoyed anything as much.”

  “And who is this?” Rebecca asked, spotting a little boy hiding behind one of the nearby wagon’s wheels.

  “That’s Amos,” Mrs. Grant said.

  “Hello, Amos,” she told him, but he didn’t come out from beneath the wagon.

  She turned back to the women. Louisa sat down in a rocker and began breastfeeding the infant. The touching sight made her smile.

  Abigail took the only other chair. The slight bulge in her belly made Rebecca suspect that the woman might be expecting.

  “Rebecca, won’t you join us?” Mrs. Grant asked. “We have coffee made, but only a blanket to offer for you to sit on.”

  “I would like that.” Rebecca moved closer to the wagon that still provided a haven for the little, shy boy. “Amos, would you like to eat a donut?”

  “What a donut?” he asked with a wary look.

  “Well, if you ever taste one, you’ll want two, maybe three. That’s why I always make plenty. They’re round like a wheel with a hole in the middle, and they taste like they rolled right out of heaven,” Rebecca told him.

  Slowly, Amos crawled out and went over to stand next to Mrs. Grant, who had placed the basket on the top of a trunk that served as their table. She reached into the basket and gave the boy one. When he took a bite, his mouth spread into a wide grin, which delighted Rebecca.

  The coffee and donuts were passed around, and many earnest compliments on the sweetness and flavor of her favorite new recipe followed.

  “Steve is going to love these,” Abigail said. “He’s fond of sweets. And he is so sweet himself. He’s always helping us, isn’t he ladies?”

  Mrs. Grant smiled and Louisa nodded. Like Rebecca, the two were likely aware of what Abigail was trying to do—put in a good word for Steve.

  Rebecca enjoyed visiting with the women and the boy, who occasionally gave her a bashful grin through his missing front teeth. She wondered where his parents were and if they were slaves belonging to the Wyllies, but since the women didn’t volunteer any information about the child, she didn’t ask.

  Rebecca learned a good deal about the three women and their family. Mrs. Grant, middle-aged, with tiny streaks of gray in her auburn hair, was clearly the thread that kept the quilt of this family together. Louisa, despite her petite size, would be fierce in defense of her family. She also learned that Abigail would soon have a baby and had suffered from morning sickness but was now feeling much better. Abigail’s jolliness must surely keep everyone in high spirits. Or at least as high as they could be given that these women just lost their homes.

  “I was so sorry to hear of the flooding at Pecan Point. Losing your homes must have been horrible for you,” she said.

  “It was,” Louisa said. At once, grief cast its shadow on her lovely face, which was framed by an abundance of long, nearly gold hair. “It was the most wonderful home.” Tears sprang into her blue eyes.

  Mrs. Grant nodded with sadness. “In addition to our home, my husband and our adopted son Adam had a thriving clinic and apothecary. We also lost our productive gardens and thriving orchard.”

  “But at least by coming here, we got to see more of Texas!” Abigail said with such enthusiasm the dark curls of her hair bounced against her shoulders. “And now we’ll all have new homes. I fancy the smell of freshly cut timber. Don’t you?”

  Louisa sighed and Melly just smiled kindly and said, “Yes, Dear.”

  Rebecca’s heart went out to them. “Louisa, I’m certain your husband and his brothers will soon build you a new home. One that is even better. And, Mrs. Grant, Nacogdoches is in dire need of a doctor and an apothecary. I’ll gladly help you find a location. And our gardens and orchard produce so abundantly we have plenty to share with all of you until you get your own planted.”

  “You’re very kind,” Louisa said.

  Rebec
ca suddenly wondered when Steve would be back. “Where are all your men if I may ask?”

  “My husband and Adam are out checking on the other displaced settlers,” Mrs. Grant said. “We heard some of them needed medical care after being wet and cold for so long. Stephen and his three sons went to town to see the solicitor the Alcalde sent them to.”

  A yellow butterfly landed on Rebecca’s skirt and a Mockingbird sang from the tallest branch of a nearby oak, but even that gaiety didn’t dispel Rebecca’s alarm at the mention of the Alcalde. “I do hope someone warned them about that despicable man.”

  “Whom do you mean?” Louisa asked. “The Alcalde or the solicitor?”

  “I shouldn’t say anything,” Rebecca said, suddenly regretting her harsh words. Her father had warned her to be extremely careful about what she told others, especially regarding the Alcalde. Words had a way of working their way through a town. At best, when they got back to the source, they were often unrecognizable. At worst, they could get you shot or hung.

  “I think it’s best if you just wait to hear it from your men,” Rebecca said. She stood quickly. “I must get back to my mother. Please come to visit us. You can pick what you need from our gardens. And perhaps we could all have tea with my mother in a few days when she gets better.”

  “That would be lovely,” Mrs. Grant said.

  “And if you’d like to come to our home to bathe or wash clothes, you are always welcome. Furthermore, if the weather turns bad again, or you just get tired of the ruggedness of camping you must come and stay with us. The boy and the baby don’t need to be out in bad weather. We have three spare bedrooms you are welcome to use.” She didn’t tell them why they had empty bedrooms.

  “That’s very kind of you to offer,” Melly said. “Your home is indeed grand.”

  “If it looks like it will be a while before we can secure our new land, I would be so grateful if we could stay with you or find a room at the inn if there’s one in town,” Louisa said. “I worry about Little Stephen out here. We already killed one rattlesnake. And we’ve seen scorpions too.”

  “And don’t forget spiders the size of an apple,” Abigail added with wide eyes.

  “The inn is almost always full and crowded with all sorts of types,” Rebecca said. “You’d be better off staying with us until you get your cabins built.”

  “Perhaps you should ask your parents first,” Mrs. Grant suggested.

  “Oh, they would be keen to have you. Our big house has been too quiet lately.” And too full of sadness, she thought. “Please tell Steve that I hope he enjoys the donuts,” she said with a wave goodbye.

  Chapter 16

  Steve could feel the palpable heat of Samuel’s rage as they left the solicitor’s office and stood together outside. How could something as simple as rain have changed their lives so much? How could they have lost both their homes and their land in such a short time? It seemed as if fate upended his entire life along with each of his family members, especially Samuel’s.

  So much had changed, he wondered if everything could ever be put back to rights. More than anything, he hoped that his close-knit family could remain together, supporting and protecting each other from all the dangers of the frontier and a place that was so politically volatile.

  “What are we going to do next?” Thomas asked.

  Samuel glared at Thomas. “Do you think I have an answer to that question?”

  “Well, no,” Thomas said.

  “Then why the heck are you asking it?” Samuel snapped.

  It wasn’t like Samuel to be impatient. Their big brother was normally the calm, steady leader of the family and had been ever since their father turned the cattle business over to his eldest son. But Steve knew that was what worried Samuel the most. Samuel felt responsible for continuing the successful cattle business their father had started many years ago. They would soon have a lot of hungry cattle who would need grass and lots of it. And water. Without those two things, their cattle business would fail. Worse, the cattle would suffer. And that would make any good cattleman panic.

  Samuel scrubbed his tired eyes. “I’ve got to go find Hollis and check on the herd. Perhaps he’s found a good spot where we can just squat for a while. Even if Steve’s idea of using Baldy as leverage to persuade the Alcalde to give us good land works, it will take some time to sort it all out.”

  “Samuel,” Thomas said. “There’s no sense putting off the inevitable. You are going to have to sell the cattle.” The opposite of his merry wife, Thomas tended to be the pessimist in the family. Although, Thomas considered himself a realist.

  “I’ll only be able to get a fraction of what they’re worth,” Samuel said, intensity in his lowered voice. “Buyers here will know I have no place for them.”

  “That’s why you should take them away from Nacogdoches to Louisiana,” Thomas persisted. “Sell them in Natchitoches. You’ll get a good price for them there and it’s only about a hundred miles away.”

  “And another major swollen river away—the Sabine,” Father said. “Crossing now would be dangerous. The currents are too strong. We’d likely drown half the herd.”

  Their father was right. High water, quicksand, and bogs made river crossings treacherous. As were the menace of water moccasins that lurked in rivers and streams.

  “Furthermore, I intend to honor our contracts with the forts,” Samuel said. “If I sell the cattle, I won’t be able to supply them as I agreed to. I won’t go back on my word. Those soldiers are counting on my beef to feed them this fall and winter.”

  Steve knew Samuel took pride in providing food for soldiers.

  “I believe they will understand that the flooding was beyond your control,” Thomas said.

  “Hunger is not very understanding,” Steve said.

  “Those contracts are our livelihood,” Samuel argued. “Without them, we have no guaranteed buyer and no guaranteed price for our beef. I need to be certain I can pay wages to our hands and to you two.”

  “The problem is that if we just squat somewhere, we run the risk of someone coming along after we’ve built homes to tell us we’re on their land,” Steve said.

  “How much more of a bribe do you think it will take to get the Alcalde to give us a decent land grant?” Thomas asked.

  “A man who takes bribes has no limits,” Samuel said.

  “And even if we gave him more money, we have no guarantee that he will follow through with granting us quality land. We’ve already seen what kind of man he is. And the solicitor just confirmed what we suspected. He’s a deceitful swindler.”

  Their father had remained quiet, just listening to his three sons. Finally, he spoke up. “As I see it, our choices are these. We can attempt to use Baldy as leverage to persuade Procela to give us land. If the Alcalde wants a doctor in Nacogdoches badly enough, it could work. Or we can just buy acreage from someone. The problem with buying, as we just heard, is securing a valid title.”

  “Perhaps we should reconsider Austin’s colony,” Steve suggested.

  Samuel shook his head. “I read that the east bank of the Brazos is already completely occupied. We can’t chance moving five-hundred head of cattle on the possibility that suitable acreage will still be available. And the further south we go the hotter it will be in the summer. That means less grass and less water. The two things we need the most. A severe drought could wipe out a cattleman in a single season.”

  “Texas is notorious for severe droughts,” Steve conceded.

  “I’m going to go buy some supplies for my men. I’m sure they’re out of coffee and more by now,” Samuel said.

  “We’ll go talk to our good doctor,” Father said. “Perhaps, as Steve suggested, he has the cure to our troubles.”

  As Rebecca left the Wyllie campsite and rode toward the road to town, she decided she truly enjoyed the company of Mrs. Grant, Louisa, and Abigail. The personality of each was different, but each possessed a kind spirit and a fierce strength. The pain of losing their home
s, though, was still quite evident, especially in Louisa. Abigail had tried to hide her sadness behind silliness and optimism, but Rebecca could still see anguish in her eyes as well. And although Mrs. Grant showed amazing stamina for her age, she could tell the ordeal had taken a toll on her.

  Losing a home you loved, especially one you shared with someone you love, had to be devastating. Women would feel such a loss deeply. She suspected the men in their family would be more stoic about it and less affected. Men were like that. Men tend to soldier on. Like her father had. But the hearts of women tended to be softer and they suffered more.

  As her mother suffered. And as her own heart still did.

  They didn’t know it yet, but these women needed her help. She decided she would do whatever she could to ease their transition to new homes and life in her town.

  Suddenly, Missy’s normally smooth gait faltered and then the mare stumbled. Rebecca nearly lost her seat in the saddle but managed to hang on by grabbing the horse’s mane. After she settled in the saddle again, she glanced down and saw a hole where the ground had sunk beneath the horse’s weight. All the recent rain must have created a pocket below the road surface and once Missy stepped on it, the soil gave way.

  When Missy side-stepped around the hole, the mare limped. Rebecca immediately dismounted and checked Missy’s foot for a rock. Not finding any, she knew the horse had a sprain or worse. “Oh, Missy, my poor girl.”

  She glanced up and tried to get her bearings. Judging the distance she had already ridden, she realized she was still at least a mile from home.

  She heard the sound of galloping horses coming from the north, behind her. Before she even looked to see who the riders were, she reached into her saddlebag and retrieved her pistol. She would not be caught out here helpless.

  Three unkempt men rode toward her with grins on their dirty faces. The men pulled up at the last minute and harshly jerked their mounts to a stop.