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

by Dorothy Wiley

  “I’ll share my news in a moment. But first, I want you, Father, and Samuel to understand something. I no longer want to be just an employee of Wyllie Cattle Company. I want to be a partner.”

  “All right,” Samuel agreed without argument. “You and I, and Thomas can all be equal partners.”

  “And I want to raise horses too,” Steve told them.

  “Agreed,” Samuel said. “I always thought you would. It will be Wyllie Cattle and Horse Company from now on.”

  “Thank you, big brother,” Steve said, and they shook hands.

  “Now that that’s settled, what’s your even better news?” Thomas asked, moving his mount closer to Steve.

  He was all smiles as he said, “I’m getting married.”

  “To Rebecca?” Thomas asked.

  “Who else you dolt!” he said with a playful punch to Thomas’ shoulder.

  “That is even better news!” Father said. “You have my blessing for sure. She’s a fine young woman.”

  “It’s about time you got married,” Samuel said.

  “That’s exactly what your wife said when I told her.”

  “Is Louisa doing all right there with the Tylers?” Samuel asked. “And my son?”

  “She looked rested, and the babe is eating well. Every time I see him, he’s bigger,” Steve said. “And, before you ask Thomas, Abigail seemed very happy and healthy too. Melly and Mrs. Tyler are taking good care of them both and spoiling the babe.”

  “I’m happy for you, Steve,” Baldy said. “And for Rebecca. She couldn’t ask to marry a better man.”

  “I don’t know about that. I only know I’ll be marrying the most wonderful woman a man could hope to marry. And we want you to marry us.”

  “I would be honored,” Baldy said. “I think this outstanding news deserves a toast.”

  “I’ll tell Hollis and the hands to move the cattle only a half mile further south since we’ll be moving them again soon. Then I’ll join all of you,” Samuel said, lifting his reins. “I’d like to invite Hollis to join us, too, but I better leave him managing the herd.”

  Father nodded. “We need to keep a tight rein on them until they’re on Tyler’s land.”

  “The land won’t belong to Tyler for long,” Steve said.

  Everyone stared at him with confusion and concern.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Tyler are giving Rebecca and I the land as a wedding gift as soon as we marry.”

  “They are gifting ten-thousand acres to you and Rebecca?” Samuel asked as though he couldn’t believe it.

  Steve nodded. “But it will be our land. Remember we’re all partners now of Wyllie Cattle and Horse Company.”

  While Samuel was gone, Steve also shared his big news with both Watson and Taynay, and invited the two to join them for the celebration drink.

  Samuel soon returned to the camp, and Baldy poured everyone a whiskey. A cool breeze rustled through the trees around them, lifting Steve’s already bright spirits as Samuel and Thomas humorously toasted to his good fortune. They agreed he’d finally found a woman who would take him.

  Father and Baldy offered kinder and more thoughtful toasts. Baldy also said, “Never let anything of this world—tragedy, illness, poverty, or riches—come between you and the one you love.”

  Steve knew that Baldy was speaking from experience. Tragedy had once torn the doctor and Melly apart.

  Then Watson stepped forward. “To your future bride,” he said, holding up his glass. “I’m looking forward to meeting her tomorrow when I go there to see my slaves.”

  Knowing the man’s disgraceful reputation for his demeaning treatment of women, Steve stiffened and stood taller.

  Everyone else grew quiet, their faces now serious.

  Sensing the tension, Caddo, who was lying next to Amos, raised his furry head.

  Samuel, who had remained cool toward Watson, hardened his jaw.

  Father’s sharp eyes bored into Watson. “What do you plan to do with the slaves?”

  “I’m going to free them.”

  Shocked, they all gasped or grew wide-eyed in utter disbelief. Slaves were extraordinarily valuable. Although it was certainly the right thing to do, giving them away would mean Watson would lose a great deal of money.

  “Then,” Watson continued, “I’m going to ask them, as free men and women, to forgive me.”

  “That is wonderful news!” Steve said. “And Taynay?”

  “I’ve already freed him. I wrote his free man papers earlier today.”

  “So that’s why you borrowed quill, ink, and paper this morning,” Baldy said. “Better use of paper has never been made by man.”

  Taynay smiled broadly and limped forward. “Master Watson is good man deep inside.” With his open palm, he tapped his broad chest. Then he reached into his ragged pants pocket and held the treasured document up for all to see. “See, here’s my Freedom Paper.”

  Taynay’s face said it all. He was his own man now, not a piece of property. A man with free will and self-determination.

  Later Steve would show him how to wrap his Freedom Paper in a piece of deer hide to protect the precious paper. For freed slaves, carrying their papers was necessary in order to avoid being mistaken as a runaway fugitive and risk being enslaved again.

  Watson studied the amber liquid in his glass. “I tried to be my father. To have as big and as profitable a plantation as he did in Louisiana. And later, when Father died, I tried to be as successful as my oldest brother, who inherited our family plantation. I treated my slaves as my father did, and my brother does, with a hard heart and an even harder-hearted overseer.” His gaze lowered as did his voice. “I was like Saul was toward Christians before he became Paul. Cruel and without mercy, I persecuted my slaves. The journey here, after the flood, was my Road to Damascus. I realized how terribly wrong I was. How many wrongs I had inflicted on men like Taynay and others. With every mile we traveled, I grew as sick of heart as I was of body. My shame was overwhelming. About halfway here, I could no longer ride my stallion. Some of the slaves walked, so I could lie down in the wagon.”

  Taynay’s dark eyes glimmered as he stared at the man who, until today, had owned him.

  Watson glanced up at his big former slave, who was a good foot taller. “As soon as I recovered enough to think clearly, I begged Taynay’s forgiveness, and his big heart has granted it to me.”

  “The good Lord told me to forgive Master Watson,” Taynay said. Clearly, by calling Watson Master, Taynay was still navigating the gray area between slavery and freedom.

  Watson inhaled deeply. “Taynay was right when he said we’d both been given a second chance.”

  Everyone stood in stunned silence at the man’s surprising testimony.

  “There must have been fire in that rainstorm,” Baldy said, “because it forged you into a new man, Sir.”

  Baldy was right. The change in Watson was remarkable. A miracle.

  “I want to stay with Mr. Watson,” Taynay said. “I help him, and he help Amos and me.”

  Had Taynay actually grown fond of Watson as they both recovered lying side by side for days? It appeared so. Perhaps out of their shared weaknesses, they’d created an unbreakable bond.

  “And we’ll help you too,” Baldy said. “Whenever any of you need medical care, you need only ask.”

  “We’ll help each other,” Watson said, patting the slave’s enormous back.

  Watson visibly grimaced when his hand touched the deep furrows of Taynay’s scars through the man’s threadbare shirt. Watson withdrew his hand and stared down at his open palm with repulsion. His face grew so pained, so full of raw grief, Steve thought Watson might cry.

  With his big strong hand, Taynay gently patted Watson’s back. “They is healed now, Master Watson. Now, it’s time for you to heal too.”

  Watson did weep then, and Baldy poured him some more whiskey.

  “I’m sorry, I know a man isn’t supposed to cry,” Watson said. He swiped at his tears and took a gulp o
f the whiskey.

  Baldy placed a comforting hand on Watson’s shoulders. “The evil of slavery affects more than slaves. Your pain has deep roots. And like hidden waters deep inside of you, your tears will cleanse your heart. That’s good,” he said. “They signal a change in your soul. Like gold and silver, you’ve been purged, purified, and refined.”

  “What do you plan to do now?” Father asked when Watson recovered his emotions. “Will you try to go back to your plantation?”

  “No. It could happen again. And I never want to go through that ever again. When we left my plantation, we barely escaped the floodwaters. The water just came in so fast and so far inland. Taynay had brought a wagon up to the house loaded with children, and some of the household slaves joined them. In the panic, one of them scared the horse team, and the heavily loaded wagon ran over Taynay’s foot. We put him in the wagon and raced away. I didn’t have time to gather my valuable possessions. But I managed to take a considerable amount of gold with me,” he said, patting his waistcoat pocket. “And I have more in my belt and saddlebags too. Remarkably, none of it was stolen.”

  “Slaves, they honest, God-fearing folk,” Taynay said.

  “I know that now,” Watson said. “With this gold, I plan to open an inn in town. A growing town can always use another inn, and I have experience running a large household. Any of my former slaves who want a paying job there will have one. I’m hoping they can continue to work for Mr. Tyler until I get the inn built, as well as living quarters for all my workers.”

  “I’m certain that can be arranged with Mr. Tyler,” Steve said. “I’ll go with you tomorrow and introduce you to him.”

  Samuel took long strides over to Watson and extended his hand. “Glad to meet the new you, Sir,” he said as they enthusiastically shook hands.

  Chapter 27

  Procela stood when Jim “Killer” Giller, a tall, slim man with dark hair and mustache, came into his office. Cold to the core, here was the killer he would secretly hire again. One who could strike and leave no sign. An assassin who killed for pay—for blood money—without one shred of remorse. Jim felt no guilt because he perversely thought he was doing what God called him to do; kill those who interfered with those in authority. The man thought of himself as an enforcer of the law. Jim was clearly irrational, but the killer would follow his instructions.

  Shoot down Samuel Wyllie.

  Procela smiled to himself. He would pay Giller with Samuel’s own gold. He’d done that same thing several times. If a settler became too aggressive or vocal, he simply used half of their bribe money to rid himself of the problem.

  People who didn’t know the real Killer Giller referred to him by the nickname Deacon Jim because he commonly said, “God bless you,” to people, and he did not smoke or drink. He was also well-liked by the townspeople because he was so polite. People would never suspect him.

  “Welcome Jim, my amigo,” Procela said.

  In his typical reserved fashion, Giller did not smile, and his cold gray eyes appeared distant. “Good morning, Alcalde. Your messenger said you had some work for me.”

  As a self-appointed enforcer of the law, Jim considered his killings work. The first time they’d met, Jim had explained that he considered ‘helping’ public officials to be a kind of calling. He’d been doing it for years throughout the southern states, never staying too long in one place. That’s how the peculiar man wound up in Texas.

  Procela knew the Wyllies had set up the supposed accidental meeting with Dr. Grant and his wife in his home in advance. And he knew that their offer to persuade the doctor to stay in exchange for land was a hoax meant to dupe him. He’d sent one of his spies to observe the Wyllie camp some time ago. The doctor and his wife had been traveling with the Wyllies all along. They were close friends.

  Well, they wouldn’t be friends for long.

  He would describe the men and their horses to Killer and have him pick the Wyllies off one by one over the next few weeks, beginning with that unpleasant Samuel. That blustering bully, Samuel, would be shot, and the others would soon meet with unfortunate accidents. Finally, his soldiers would confiscate their herd of cattle for the crime of grazing on public lands. He would have the five-hundred head moved to the Port of Galveston and sold on the black market to pirates. Perhaps to the pirate Jean Lafitte at his pirate kingdom called Campeche.

  He would spare the doctor. He’d find some way to make him stay.

  No one fooled him. No one. And no one stood in his way or tried to get rid of him. Not even that wealthy Mr. Tyler and his sons. He’d already seen to that.

  “Si, I have some work for you. And some gold.”

  Steve spent the morning at the Tylers with Rebecca’s father, Watson, and Taynay. He would never forget the look on the faces of the slaves when Watson gave them their freedom. Their collective expressions reminded him of a gray sky clearing and a brilliant sun coming out after a rain. Freedom was precious to all.

  Of course, Tyler agreed to continue giving the former slaves shelter and work. He also recommended a good builder to Watson for his inn.

  It took some time to write out the freedom papers for each slave. Steve helped by writing out the papers that Watson would then sign. Tyler handed the paper to each of the slaves and shook their hands. When Cuffee’s papers were finished, Watson asked Taynay to hand them to his mother. But instead of shaking her hand, he enfolded her in an embrace within his massive arms.

  “I sent an angel to you,” she told him.

  “I know,” Taynay said. Then he glanced at Steve.

  Steve knew he was certainly no angel, but he sincerely hoped he was God’s partner. In the West, with all its dangers and rawness, God needed a lot of partners.

  When Watson and Taynay finally left the Tyler place, they went directly to town to visit with the builder. It was becoming clear to Steve that Taynay would play an important role as Watson reestablished his future in Nacogdoches.

  Steve remained behind to spend a few minutes with Rebecca before he had to leave. But their time together, though brief, would be important moments. He wanted to set a date for their wedding.

  They strolled away from the quarters where the workers were gathered and back toward the house. Despite the warm day, Rebecca still looked fresh in her crisp white blouse and blue skirt. He would never tire of looking at her. Every time he did, it made him smile.

  “Can we marry soon?” Steve asked, his voice nearly pleading.

  “I don’t want a long courtship,” Rebecca said. “I already know how I feel about you. And I already know I want to be your wife. I don’t care if we’re moving too fast. Everything about marrying you feels right.”

  “Then there’s no reason to wait,” Steve told her. The sooner he could make her his wife in the fullest sense, the better as far as he was concerned. Every time he was near her, it was a struggle to keep his hands off her.

  “I just need time for a seamstress to make my wedding gown,” she said. “I want to be a beautiful bride for you.”

  “If you wore rags made of unbleached muslin, you’d be a beautiful bride.”

  She giggled. “I think I can do better than unbleached muslin.”

  “Just family and friends?” he asked.

  “Yes, just family and close friends.”

  They set a date for their wedding—two weeks hence.

  Everything was falling into place.

  That afternoon, they put fresh powder in their weapons and then saddled and mounted their horses to go meet with the Alcalde again in town. Thomas and Adam remained behind to watch the camp.

  Hollis and the hands were guarding the herd that they had moved again that morning. The foreman and Samuel had been careful not to stay too long in any one place. Otherwise, landowners might rightfully demand a toll of so much per cow to make up for the grass the cows grazed on while passing through their lands. It was a wise cattleman’s trail boss who paid the toll without a hassle. Otherwise, the landowner might return that night an
d stampede the herd. They also avoided any grasslands near cultivated crops. They didn’t want the herd to destroy a planter’s fields. They needed to get the herd settled on the Tyler land soon.

  Samuel was obviously in a hurry, nearly racing toward town.

  Steve nudged Stardust’s sides to take him to a gallop. Father and Baldy did the same to their mounts as they all tried to keep up with Samuel.

  He couldn’t blame Samuel for being in a rush. His brother wanted land he could call his own. Even with the land Mr. Tyler would be giving Rebecca and Steve when they married, a land grant could make all the difference in Samuel and Louisa’s future.

  Today would prove interesting.

  They never made it to the Alcalde’s home.

  On the trail into town, a rifle shot nearly took Samuel’s head off.

  It did take his hat off.

  And it passed by Steve’s face so close that he felt the air split in front of him.

  “Bloody hell,” Samuel swore just after the shot rang out through the woods.

  Steve flew off his gelding at the same time his brother did. They darted behind a large oak tree. He glanced over at Samuel to be certain he was still in one piece. Color quickly drained from his brother’s face, but he wasn’t bleeding.

  Father and Baldy, who had been riding a short distance behind them, pulled up on their mounts and circled around to the rear of them before dismounting.

  “Someone’s trying to kill you,” Steve said. He tried to steady his breath and calm the panic that filled him.

  “Who? Why?” His brother ran shaky fingers through his hair to check that his head was still intact.

  When his fingers came away clean, Steve knew Samuel was all right.

  Father and Baldy crept up to them.

  “Are you all right son?” Father asked.

  “Yes,” he said rubbing the top of his head again.

  “Did you see where the shot came from?” Father asked.

  “Only that it was from that direction,” Steve said, pointing. “I saw a puff of black powder smoke coming from that stand of pines.”