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

by Dorothy Wiley

  “I’ve wanted you to do this all night,” she said in a low, breathy voice.

  He kissed her softly and tenderly. Her lips were warm and soft and yielding. In that moment, he knew he could never find the words to express how he felt about her. So he let his kisses, far more eloquent than mere words, speak words of love for him. Then he deepened the kiss letting his tongue express the passion he felt for her. It was a longing that came from deep within him, the secret part of his heart he’d never opened up to anyone before. He cupped the back of her head with his hand and held her fast as he kissed her with all the yearning he normally kept tightly controlled. The taste of her and the feel of holding her in his arms engulfed him.

  Rebecca’s breaths came faster and she began to tremble.

  When he felt his own body stirring, and his hands wanting to wander, he forced himself to release her lips, but he still held her close. He never wanted to let her go.

  She moaned, snuggled against him, and laid her head against his chest. With her eyes closed, he was sure she was listening to the beat of his heart.

  A heart that beat for her alone. He kissed the top of her head and realized in a short time she’d become everything to him. Her wants, her needs, her dreams were what mattered to him now. He wanted to spend his life loving her. Making her laugh. Keeping her safe.

  A shiver passed through him. “I could have lost you tonight,” he said, his voice ragged.

  “With a kiss like that, I think you found me.”

  Chapter 23

  The next day, Samuel had not yet come back, but Watson did. Noticing his movements, Steve and the others stopped what they were doing and gathered close to Watson’s pallet.

  “Where am I?” Watson asked, glancing about with a look of bewilderment. Beads of perspiration dotted his pale forehead and upper lip, and his breathing was rapid, but he managed to sit up. He pointed at Baldy. “You’re Dr. Grant. And the rest of you are the Wyllies. How did I get here?”

  Baldy stepped closer to his patient. “You’ve been extremely ill. We found you with some of your slaves at a nearby campsite. They must have brought you here, near Nacogdoches, in your wagon. Adam and I first cared for you at their camp and later brought you here so we could keep a closer watch on you.”

  “What was wrong with me?” Watson asked. His voice was weak.

  “Almost certainly it was malaria,” Baldy said.

  Watson’s eyes widened. “Malaria? But people die from malaria all the time.”

  “You almost did,” Melly said. “Only my husband’s and Adam’s care and prayers saved you.”

  Watson swallowed. “Soon after we left the plantation, I remember getting shaking chills. Later, I also had muscle pains, felt very tired, and my head hurt. But I don’t remember much after that.”

  “You lapsed into a coma,” Baldy said.

  “Here, you must eat this broth,” Adam said, kneeling down and handing him a bowl of soup. “You haven’t had any nourishment in several days. Tomorrow we’ll start gradually adding in solid food.”

  Watson gulped a few spoonfuls with a shaky hand and then stopped eating suddenly. “Where are my slaves?”

  “Many of them died in the flood,” Baldy said, glancing at the ground with a sad shake of his head.

  Stephen said, “Only about twenty were left with you and half that many children. Steve found shelter for them with a family in town—a planter who owns a sugarcane farm. Taynay, or Buck as you call him, was badly injured and is recuperating here with us as well. His son Amos is also here.” Stephen pointed to Taynay and Amos.

  Watson glanced at the slave and his son. Then he glanced down, shuddered, and seemed to shrivel a little. “I should have listened to you, Mr. Wyllie. And your son, Samuel. I was such a bloody fool. Now I’ve lost…”

  “You’re not alone. We all lost our homes,” Father said. “And we are still struggling to find a place to relocate. Our women are all staying with friends in town.”

  Watson appeared miserable. He peered up at Steve’s father. “You tried to save lives, not let them be destroyed, as I did.” Tears filled his eyes as his anguish overtook him. He held the bowl out to Adam.

  “You should try to eat more,” Adam said. When Watson shook his head woodenly, Adam took the soup, and said, “I’ll give you more shortly.”

  A glazed look of despair spread over Watson. He laid back down and turned on his side.

  Taynay, leaning against a wagon, stood nearby, but he hadn’t said anything. Hesitantly, the slave took a step toward where Watson lay.

  Steve wondered if Taynay’s anger was on the verge of erupting.

  “Master Watson, the good Lord let us live,” Taynay said. “He’s giving you a second chance to be a good man. It doesn’t matter what a man has done. It only matters what he will do.”

  Spellbound, Steve’s eyes widened as he listened to the forgiveness Taynay poured out, offering absolution unconditionally to Watson. This man had endured untold suffering at the hands of Watson’s overseer, yet the slave’s heart was open to compassion for the very man who was the cause of his misery.

  Taynay limped even closer to Watson, grimacing with each step that obviously caused him a great deal of pain. “I know what you done. I know you took my wife and sold her. I know you and your friends had your way with some of our women. Many times, I felt your overseer’s lash open the flesh of my back. But those sins are between you and God, not between you and me. God can forgive you of any sin. And Amos and I can forgive you too. Ain’t that right, Amos?”

  Amos, who stood slightly behind his father’s leg, nodded.

  Watson’s troubled spirit seemed to quiet. He opened his moist eyes and pushed himself up on one elbow. Looking up at Taynay, he asked, “God would forgive all that?”

  “Yes, Sir, Mr. Watson,” Taynay said, “but only if you is sorry for what you done did.”

  Watson peered at Taynay, speechless.

  Baldy nodded. “Taynay speaks God’s truth. First John says, ‘if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

  “But what about you?” Watson asked Taynay. “Can you forgive me?”

  “Already done that, Mr. Watson.”

  “Taynay is a wise man. Instead of holding hatred in his heart, and remembering old hurts, he forgives,” Baldy said.

  “Why?” Watson asked.

  “I knows that God’s love overlooks the past. So I must,” Taynay answered, holding his hand over his heart as he spoke.

  “Granny taught us that when they took Ma away,” Amos said. Tears shone in his dark eyes.

  Steve and the others waited to see how Watson would respond. Was this man capable of embracing the goodness that lurks within the heart of every man? Or would he harden his heart and continue to hold on to evil?

  Watson appeared tormented by confusing emotions.

  “You need to rest now,” Baldy said. “When you wake up again, we will help you to eat something and walk around some. It may take a while, but you will soon regain your full strength.”

  With an anxious look on his now bearded face, Watson reached into the inside pocket of his waistcoat. He seemed relieved, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

  Steve stood next to Taynay. “That was truly gracious of you.”

  “It weren’t nothin’ compared to the grace God gives.” Taynay sat down on one of the stumps they’d placed by the cook fire. Gazing into the flickering flames, he began singing in a sorrowful tone with his deep, melodious voice.

  “There is a balm in Gilead

  To make the wounded whole;

  There is a balm in Gilead

  To heal the sin-sick soul.”

  Steve knew Gilead was a place mentioned in the Bible, and that the spiritual was one commonly sung by slaves. To Steve, it sounded healing. Perhaps it was the kind of medicine Watson needed most right now. The kind of healing they all needed now.

  That afternoon, Steve daydreame
d about Rebecca while brushing each of the horses, including Watson’s stallion. He didn’t mind caring for the magnificent horse. It wasn’t the animal’s fault that his owner had been a churlish lout. He stroked the brush against the stallion’s shoulder and the horse bent his tall head toward him and exhaled a contented breath.

  What would it be like to stroke Rebecca’s soft shoulder? To let his hand wander to her breast? Down her back? To hold her close? Locking his arms around her small waist. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the horse’s neck until his quickened pulse slowed.

  Steve glanced up when he heard the sounds of cattle in the distance. “Samuel’s back!” he called to the others who were all a couple dozen yards away from where the horses were staked and hobbled.

  Father, Thomas, Baldy, and Adam all ran to join him.

  Steve pointed into the distance about a mile. “See, he’s over there, riding in front of the herd.”

  About the time they all spotted him, they saw Samuel draw up on his reins and shout something to Hollis who rode point. Hollis was easy to spot among the herd because he always wore red shirts, saying it made it easier for the hands and Samuel to find him if they needed to.

  “He’s telling Hollis to hold ‘em there,” Father said, “so they don’t get too close to our camp.”

  “Since they’re here, that must mean Hollis didn’t find a place to hold the herd,” Steve said.

  “That’s not surprising. I didn’t expect that he would. There are a lot of big landowners between here and the Red River. Juan Ignacio Pifermo’s grant alone encompasses more than 17,000 acres. Jack Cedars, Christobal Concha, and David Watman also have sizeable holdings. It’s one thing for a large herd to pass through another man’s land, but another thing entirely to squat on it for any length of time.”

  While larger landowners, particularly cattlemen, didn’t normally object, Steve worried that landowners of smaller acreages would start trouble if a herd moved across their lands.

  Although cattle need a lot of acreage to thrive, horse herds were even more objectionable. The way horses graze was more damaging to grass because horses bite grass very close to the roots, whereas cows eat with their tongues, pulling the grass higher up. For that reason, horses required even more pasture than cattle. Steve hoped that somehow, someway, he could acquire enough acreage to make his dream of a horse farm come true.

  “So now, with the herd here, our troubles really begin,” Baldy said.

  “Our predicament becomes even trickier,” Father agreed.

  With a wave at Hollis, Samuel began riding toward them at a gallop.

  “I see you found your herd,” Father said as Samuel drew up on his gelding’s reins. “Did they have any trouble getting here?”

  Samuel shook his head. “No, just slow going because of all the mud.” He dismounted. “Got anything decent to eat?”

  “Well, Melly, Louisa, and Abigail are all staying in town with the Tylers, so no,” Adam said. “I made soup earlier in case Watson woke up.”

  “Did he?” Samuel asked.

  “Yes, mid-morning,” Steve said.

  Samuel almost looked disappointed. “Still as arrogant as he was?”

  “On the contrary. He’s almost contrite,” Baldy said. “I think he’s remorseful for causing the deaths of all those slaves.”

  “He should be,” Samuel said, vehemently. “If he’d evacuated them as he should have, they would likely all still be alive.”

  “We need to be as gracious toward him as Taynay is,” Baldy said.

  “What do you mean?” Samuel asked.

  “The slave forgave Watson for all the wrongs done to him,” Baldy said. “God will too, just as long as Watson is sorry for what he did.”

  “I’d be surprised if he was,” Samuel said. “Is he?”

  “We don’t really know yet,” Steve said.

  “He grew weak and fell back asleep before he could respond to Taynay,” Adam added.

  Samuel nodded. “Tomorrow morning we’re going back to see the Alcalde. This time, we’ll play a little trick on the trickster.”

  “I’m ready to play my part,” Baldy said. “Melly nearly strangled me, though, when I explained to her what we planned.”

  “She’ll cooperate, won’t she?” Samuel asked.

  “She said she’d play her part,” Baldy said. “But she’s not happy about it.”

  Chapter 24

  Pink streaked the gray sky of morning, as Steve and the others left their camp to ride to the Alcalde’s home. Adam had stayed behind to care for and feed their steadily improving two patients and little Amos. Last night, Watson had stood with a steadying hand on Taynay’s massive arm on the slave’s uninjured side. Then they both took a few steps around the camp. Surprising them all, Amos took hold of Watson’s other hand and held it while they walked about. What was even more surprising was that Watson let the child do it.

  They left at dawn because Samuel wanted to get there before any others seeking land arrived. The prospect of acquiring land in Eastern Texas was the single most important factor in a family’s decision to migrate, and competition was fierce. Land was more than a place to raise stock or crops and a family. Ownership of land was fundamental to life. And freedom.

  For Steve, land and freedom had become two equally-sharp edges of the same blade. He could never carve out a truly free life in Texas without land.

  Leading Melly’s horse behind him, Baldy split off and took the turn leading to the Tyler home. Baldy would get his wife and would meet them at Procela’s house shortly.

  Steve hoped all would go according to their carefully orchestrated plan to convince the Alcalde. If it didn’t, he would blame himself.

  When they arrived, he was surprised to see several members of the Mexican army standing guard in front of the home. The soldiers held rifles tipped with bayonets that glinted menacingly in the bright morning sun. Despite their intimidating weapons, the men appeared bored and nonthreatening. Their patched and threadbare blue uniforms were trimmed with faded red collars and cuffs. Dirty, white shoulder straps crisscrossed their chests. And to a man, they appeared underfed and thin.

  At the tavern, his father and brothers had learned that the fledgling Republic of Mexico, plagued by civil strife and economic uncertainty, was hard-pressed to pay, feed, uniform, and equip its soldiers. Especially those serving at far-flung places on the frontier like Nacogdoches. According to the local settlers, the soldiers here received the dregs and hand-me-downs from an inefficient and corrupt supply system. The garrison at the fort had received nothing for seven months and was reduced to a most deplorable state.

  “We are here to see the Alcalde,” Father told one of the soldiers.

  The unfriendly man nodded. “¿Tu nombre?”

  “Your name?” Samuel translated.

  Their father shifted impatiently in his saddle. “The Wyllies.”

  “¿Tu negocio?”

  Samuel said, “He wants to know our business.”

  “Tell the Alcalde we are here to have a drink of water,” Father said in a firm voice.

  After Samuel translated, the man drew his brows together, but then went inside to carry the message to Procela.

  Soon, the soldier returned and strode past them without speaking as Procela’s servant opened the door wider and waved them inside.

  They dismounted and slowly made their way to the door, keeping a careful watch on the soldiers. The servant led them to an outdoor dining area encircled by curving arches in the center of the home.

  The servant remained close to Procela, his hands folded respectfully in front of himself.

  Procela sat at a table with several scantily clad women who didn’t appear to be too happy. In fact, the eyes of one of them appeared red and swollen. And the other two had several bruises on their arms.

  A bountiful spread of delicious-looking food covered the table.

  “¡Buenos días amigos!” Procela said. His words were friendly, but his tone was n
ot.

  Steve spotted a pitcher of water on the table. He couldn’t resist. “Ah, here we have plenty of water.” He went over to the pitcher, poured a glass, and handed it to Samuel. Then he poured himself a glass and snatched up a hot tortilla.

  Smiling, Samuel took a long drink and strolled over to the other side of the table where he could face Procela directly.

  For a long moment, as Steve chewed the tortilla, an uncomfortable silence hung in the air. His free hand rested on his pistol.

  “Out!” Procela told the women and pointed to the hall.

  The three women jumped up.

  “Wait!” Samuel told them. “Are you all right?” He repeated the question in Spanish.

  The three nodded timidly and quickly left the room.

  “Señor Procela, the land you mistakenly assigned to us lacked something important to cattle,” Samuel said. “This.” Slowly, he poured the rest of the water on the table until the last drop emptied. With a penetrating look, Samuel pointed one of his two pistols at Procela. “I am tempted to shoot you right now. But I will give you one chance, one, to correct your error.”

  Procela gave Samuel and Steve scathing looks, but then he chuckled insolently. “Si, it was an error. I realized as much as soon as you left.”

  Samuel shrugged and sheathed his pistol. “We all make mistakes. But how do you plan to correct your ‘error’?” he pressed.

  Procela gave them a cool appraisal. “Land with water is very hard to come by. There are many settlers here who want that kind of land. And Tejanos.” He turned a hand over and opened his palm.

  “We are not giving you any more gold!” Samuel swore. “You’ve taken enough.” His brother’s features hardened defiantly.

  Father wore the same look, and his jaw tightened.

  Steve tossed the rest of the tortilla aside and clenched his fists, ready to slam them into Procela’s whisker-darkened jaw. The dishonest Alcalde was about to learn he could rob some, but not all, Texans.