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

by Dorothy Wiley

  “Horse gone lame?” one asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “What’s your name?” another one asked.

  “Rebecca Tyler.”

  “No need for that pistol, Miss Tyler,” the third man said. “We’re kindly.”

  His leering eyes told her otherwise and that only incensed her more. Rebecca narrowed her eyes at him. “I just bet you are. Well, I’m not.” She raised the pistol.

  She had one shot and three men before her whose intentions were likely not honorable. This was a tight spot. She needed to make them understand she was willing to kill if she had to.

  “The first man off his horse is a dead man,” she said, staring at them. “Keep going wherever it was you were headed.”

  “But we can’t leave a woman stranded on the road,” the one who seemed to be their leader said. “It wouldn’t be right. Climb up here behind me and we’ll take you into town.” He kept his tone and face respectful, but he couldn’t hide his ogling eyes.

  She gave him a hostile glare. “You can leave me and you shall. I would enjoy a walk into town. It’s a beautiful day. Now leave,” she ordered, “before I get nervous and shoot one of you.” She brandished the pistol, waving it toward each man.

  For several seconds, the three just stared at her. She struggled to keep fear from her face, but she couldn’t stop it from making her heart race.

  “Come on, let’s go,” the leader finally said. “She’s tempting, but no sense risking being shot by a nervous filly.”

  The three took off, but before they even got past her, she heard more horses and men coming from the opposite direction. Relief filled her when she saw that it was Steve, his father, and another man galloping toward her. “Thank goodness.”

  “Did those men bother you?” Steve demanded as he raced up. He turned his mount around as though preparing to take off after them.

  “No, but I could tell they wanted to. They didn’t only because I had this.” She held up her pistol.

  “So, you’re all right?” he asked with concern in his voice.

  “Yes, I’m fine. But my horse isn’t.”

  “What are you doing way out here on the road?” Steve asked.

  “I brought you, Dr. Grant, and Melly a thank you basket,” she said. “But my horse stumbled and went lame.”

  Steve hopped down from his gelding to examine Missy.

  “I’m Stephen Wyllie, Steve’s father,” an older distinguished-looking man said. She could certainly see where Steve got his good looks. The man was the most handsome older gentleman she’d ever met. And in his crystal blue eyes, she saw strength of character and noble integrity.

  “And I’m his brother Thomas,” the other man said. Like Steve, he was long-legged, dark-haired, and ruggedly handsome too.

  “Pleased to meet both of you. I’m Rebecca Tyler. Dr. Grant is treating my mother.”

  Steve ran a hand down the mare’s leg and then had her walk a few steps. “She’s definitely lame. She’s limping, but she’s not balking at walking, so I think she’ll be able to walk back to your place. Probably just a sprain, but she can’t be ridden. I’ll take you back to town.”

  “You’ll need to let her rest for several weeks, preferably in a stall, followed by gradually increasing exercise,” Mr. Wyllie told her.

  “I’ll do that,” she said. “Thank you, Sir.”

  Mr. Wyllie tipped his hat to her.

  Thomas said, “Bye, Rebecca. See you later, Steve.”

  After they left, she stored her pistol in her saddlebag. “Thank you for volunteering to take me home.”

  “I’m pleased to do so. And Stardust won’t mind a bit.”

  “That’s a beautiful name for a horse. My mare is Missy.”

  “She’s a fine-looking mare.” He tied Missy’s reins onto the back of his saddle. Then, without warning, his big hands grasped her by the waist, and he lifted her onto his horse as though she weighed nothing at all. She decided there must be some serious muscles beneath his jacket. Then he mounted, scooted as far back in the saddle as he could, and settled her onto his lap.

  “Comfortable?” he asked as his muscled left arm wrapped around her waist.

  Her body responded at once to the thrilling contact. “Mmm-hmm,” she answered, knowing she couldn’t possibly speak coherently yet. Even through her gown and petticoat, she would swear her bottom could feel the heat coming off his body. A hot flush raced up her neck. She tried to collect herself by taking a deep steadying breath and focusing on the trail ahead.

  “Did those brutes scare you?” he asked. He must have mistaken the reason for her deep breath.

  “I wasn’t so much afraid as I was angered. The uncouth beasts thought I would be dimwitted enough to accept a ride from them.”

  “Clearly, they didn’t know who they were dealing with,” he said with a chuckle.

  “No, they surely didn’t,” she said trying to ignore the growing heat and strange tingles coursing through her. As they rode, he kept his arm tightly around her waist. His breath was cool and moist against her neck. And, occasionally his thighs brushed against her legs. It all made her heart gallop and her body come alive.

  She knew sitting close to him like this wasn’t perfectly proper, but it couldn’t be helped. People would see that her horse was limping.

  And, she admitted to herself, she rather liked it. Actually, she liked it quite a lot. In fact, until they got to town, she allowed herself to relax her back against his chest. His closeness made her feel protected, safe again, after her encounter with the three men. What would it be like to always feel this safeguarded?

  “I’m proud of you,” he said. “You showed courage and wisdom.”

  “Thank you.” For the first time, she noticed the pleasing scent of him, a combination of leather, woods, and a clean soapy smell. She wanted to turn her head around, lay her nose against his neck, and take a deep breath. Then she wanted to kiss him. Of course, she couldn’t, but the scandalous thoughts thrilled her.

  Truth be told, everything about this man thrilled her.

  Steve returned to their campsite from town mid-afternoon. If he lived a century, he would never forget that ride into town with Rebecca, especially since he kept replaying it over and over in his mind. Every touch. Every word. Every thrilling moment.

  Baldy and Adam returned soon afterward, looking worn-out. Their visit to the other displaced settlers from Pecan Point must have been difficult, he thought.

  “We found Watson,” Baldy said.

  “Where?” Samuel asked.

  “Not far from here. He’s very ill,” Adam said. “So are several of his slaves, though they’re not as bad off as Watson.”

  Steve glanced off to his right. Amos was playing with Caddo, throwing a huge pine cone like a ball to the dog. “How about Amos’ father?” Steve asked. “Did you see him?”

  “And did you ask any of the slaves if they knew a little boy named Amos?” Abigail asked.

  “I did,” Baldy said. “Amos will have to go with us next time. His father is there.”

  The news left Steve with mixed feelings. He was happy for the child but also worried about the boy’s future. Returning to Watson would undoubtedly mean a lifetime of grueling bondage. Soon the child would start working the fields. Or he would be sold and become someone else’s slave.

  “Watson will try to keep him,” Melly said, looking distraught.

  “Watson can’t try to do anything right now. He’s barely alive,” Baldy said. “I’ve treated him with quinine and I suspect that since he’s young and strong that he will recover.”

  “What about Amos?” Melly asked.

  “The boy belongs with his father. We have no choice in the matter,” Father said.

  “One of the slave women said the man whose foot was run over by a wagon is Amos’ father,” Baldy said. “Sadly, he’s burning up with fever. To save his life I may need to amputate his foot but I’d like to see if his fever will drop first. But if we can keep the
foot from festering, then I might be able to save it.”

  “Saving the man’s foot would mean a great deal to both Amos and his father’s future,” Samuel said. “A slave who can’t walk and can’t work will be of little value to Watson. No telling what he would do to the two when he recovers.”

  “We gave him a tea made from devil’s walking stick bark and made a poultice for his wound from sphagnum moss,” Adam said. “We’ll change the moss out soon just like any other dressing. The slaves say the moss, which is common in these humid woods, fights a festering wound. I’ve learned a great deal about healing herbs from Indians. Now, I’ve learned even more from slaves.”

  Steve nodded. “A Caddo Indian once told me that squaws use sphagnum moss on the bottom of their baby carriers. It protects the babies’ bottoms from their urine.”

  “Yes, sphagnum is a natural antiseptic,” Baldy said.

  “The poor man must be suffering,” Melly said.

  “We also gave him laudanum mixed with whiskey for the pain. It helped, but he’s still hurting,” Baldy added. The doctor accepted the coffee Melly handed him and then sat down on a trunk. “Watson’s slaves are in bad shape. They have little food other than what they can hunt or gather in the forest. Half of them have fevers, which I’ve treated with quinine. The other half have the runs from drinking bad water before they got here. Many of the children have croup. They’re poorly clothed, mostly without shoes, and on foot. Besides Watson’s stallion, they only have one wagon and a horse team among them.”

  “What about their overseer?” Samuel asked.

  “Drowned in the flood,” Adam said. “Evidently, the floodwaters came in so swiftly he was caught in a fast-moving current and didn’t know how to swim.”

  “How many slaves are there?” Melly asked.

  “About twenty,” Baldy said. “And about ten children.”

  “Watson had about seventy slaves,” Samuel said. “Reports are about two dozen drowned. That leaves many unaccounted for.”

  “Their bodies may never be found,” Baldy said and sighed heavily.

  “Or they ran off,” Steve said. “Wouldn’t blame them if they did. Only a fool would wait to drown.”

  “When are you going back?” Father asked Baldy.

  “After we eat and rest,” Baldy said. “Melly and Samuel, if the slave’s foot worsens, I’ll need your help. And a bottle of whiskey.”

  Melly nodded. She would be helping Baldy if he needed to amputate. And Samuel and Adam would be holding the patient down. Steve was thankful Dr. Grant hadn’t asked him to restrain the man during the surgery. The sight of blood turned his stomach inside out.

  “I’ll go and help too,” Abigail said.

  “I’d rather you stayed here with Louisa and the baby,” Samuel said.

  Abigail nodded. “All right. I’ll help by gathering up what clothing I think we can spare.”

  “I’ll bring Amos and stay with him while you treat his father,” Father said.

  “I’ll go into town and buy extra blankets and food for them. What else do they need?” Steve asked Baldy.

  “Pans for cooking, salt for preserving meat, lots of blankets, tarps for tents, axes for chopping wood, oil lamps. You name it, they need it,” Baldy said.

  “Here,” Samuel said and handed Steve a handful of gold and silver coins.

  Their father reached into his waistcoat pocket and took out several coins as well. Then Baldy did the same.

  “I’ll go with you, Steve, to help buy and load the supplies,” Thomas said.

  Steve nodded and glanced down at the coins. “That should be enough to get what they need. At least for now. I’ll ask Rebecca’s father if he can take in any of the slaves and give them shelter. Perhaps they can even work at his sugar mill until Watson regains his health. Mr. Tyler seemed like a kind man and should be willing to help.”

  It would also give him another excuse to see Rebecca.

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Father said.

  “Thomas, help me hitch up one of the wagon teams,” Steve said. “I want to leave as soon as we can. Perhaps we can get those blankets and supplies before nightfall.”

  “Baldy, I need to speak with you. We need your help with something,” Father said.

  Father drew Baldy aside and they meandered into the forest. They had decided earlier that they wouldn’t tell Melly, Louisa, or Abigail of their ruse to influence the Alcalde unless it became absolutely necessary. The fewer people who knew of their ploy, the better.

  Since it was his idea, Steve prayed the scheme would not only work but would not get anyone in trouble. They already had more than enough troubles.

  Chapter 17

  When Rebecca heard a knock on the front door, she put down the book she’d been trying to read while her mother napped and went to answer it. She hadn’t been able to concentrate on the novel. Her thoughts kept drifting back to her thrilling ride with Steve.

  To her delight, Steve stood at the front door along with his brother Thomas.

  “Rebecca, I’m sorry to bother you…” Steve began. He stood there, his broad shoulders squared and his back straight.

  “You could never be a bother,” she said and then felt her face flush. What was it with this fellow? Around him, she said and did things that she wouldn’t do otherwise, like kissing his cheek. And her body seemed to ignite with a strange warmth whenever he was near. “Please come in.”

  “You met my brother, Thomas, briefly earlier today,” Steve said. “He’s three years older than I am.”

  “Steve’s the baby of the family,” Thomas said with a grin. Then Thomas politely greeted her and shook her hand.

  “Welcome, Sir,” she replied.

  Thomas tilted his brow and with merry eyes said, “If I weren’t already married…”

  “Ah, but you are dear brother. Stand aside,” Steve said and nudged his way in front of his brother.

  She chuckled and glanced up at Steve as he came inside. Her eyes automatically sought his lips and she shivered as he gave her a dazzling smile. She smiled back and then tried to calm the quiver in her chest. “Is this a social call? If so, I’m delighted. I was hoping you would come back to see me again.” Delighted? Why had she said that?

  Because it was true. Seeing him was a delight.

  “Nothing would please me more, but I’m afraid we’re here on a matter of some urgency. We need to speak to your father. Is he home?” Steve asked.

  “Indeed, he is. He’s in his study answering orders for sugar shipments. I’ll show you the way,” she said. Rebecca led them to a large door on the right of the hallway and then stepped inside the room. Bookshelves lined the back wall behind the desk and held numerous volumes. A silver candelabra sat on the corner of the desk next to a silver ink set.

  “Father, Steve and his brother are here to see you.”

  Several ledger books lay open on the desk for posting to his accounts. Setting his quill aside, Rebecca’s father rose from his desk at once. “Come in. Delighted to see you again, Steve. Thank you so much for bringing my daughter home after her horse went lame.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Steve said with a wink at her.

  “And this must be your brother,” Father said with a glance at Thomas.

  “Yes, this is Thomas,” Steve said.

  The two shook hands and then her father motioned to two leather chairs angled in front of his desk.

  Thomas took the seat to the left, and Steve the one to the right. Rebecca sat down in a ladder back chair near Steve’s chair. He glanced her way and exchanged a smile with her, but he seemed preoccupied.

  “Sir,” Steve began, “one of our neighbors at Pecan Point operated a cotton plantation with many slaves. His name is Ian Watson. When the Red rose to dangerous levels, we tried to warn him to leave and take his slaves to safety, but he refused. It appears that floodwaters destroyed his plantation, and many of his slaves drowned in the flood.”

  “How awful!” Rebecca said.

&n
bsp; “Indeed,” Steve said. “Mr. Watson is now camped with the slaves he has left on the outskirts of your town. Mr. Watson is ill. We are doing what we can to help the slaves until he regains his strength. Dr. Grant is tending to the medical needs of both Watson and his slaves. Thomas and I are here to buy blankets and other supplies for them. We were hoping that you could provide shelter for some of them in your slave quarters here at your sugar plantation. At least for the women and children.”

  “Yes, of course,” her father said. “We have three large quarters. One for single men. One for women. And one for families. How many slaves are we talking about?”

  “About twenty adults and ten children,” Steve answered. “Would you have room for at least some of them?”

  Tyler nodded. “Yes, I’m sure there will be room for all of them.”

  Steve smiled broadly. “That’s wonderful. In exchange for your shelter and food, could they work at your mill for a time until Mr. Watson gets back on his feet?”

  “That’s a good possibility,” Father said. “Mainly we are keeping the sugarcane fields free of weeds now. And we’re planting spring crops in our large gardens. We can always use more help, especially when the cane is ready to harvest.”

  “When is that?” Thomas asked.

  “We normally start harvesting on the first of October, in about five months,” Father said. “With all the rains, we should have an abundant crop this year and may need to harvest earlier.”

  “But will Mr. Watson want his slaves to work for us?” she asked. “Our workers are free people of color. They are paid a wage.”

  “We don’t know what the man wants. He’s very ill now and unable to communicate with Dr. Grant,” Steve said.

  “You should know that Watson is intensely disliked by our older brother, Samuel,” Thomas said. “And we’re not too fond of the fellow either.”

  Father frowned. “May I ask why?”

  “Let’s just say he has been known to abuse his female slaves,” Steve explained.

  “And their homes were unfit to be called homes,” Thomas added. “And his overseer, who also drowned, had a reputation for cruelty.”