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

by Dorothy Wiley

  “Someone was aiming for your head,” Baldy said. “A kill shot.”

  Samuel’s jaw hardened. “Who would want to kill me?”

  Realization dawned on all of them at the same time. Procela.

  “My guess is that the Alcalde doesn’t want to give you back the gold,” Father said. “And he can tell that you and Steve are not the kind of men to give up without a fight.”

  “If he doesn’t treat us fairly, I will get our gold back,” Samuel said.

  “We will get it back,” Steve corrected.

  “Or did the Alcalde somehow learn of our scheme?” Baldy asked.

  Steve’s heart sank. Did his conniving nearly get his brother killed?

  “Even if he did,” Father said, “we never hid that we are friends. And you never lied. You just said you hadn’t yet decided where you would practice medicine.”

  “If he did somehow find out, his gripe should be with me, not Samuel,” Baldy said.

  “You can’t risk going into town now,” Father told Samuel. “Whoever took that shot will try again.”

  “I’m not going to hide like some frightened child,” Samuel said.

  “It’s that or die like some senseless adult,” Baldy told him. “I can’t save you if a lead ball passes through that thick skull of yours.”

  Samuel scowled. “Where would I hide? And what if this killer takes aim at Steve? Or Father? Or you? We don’t know that he’s just after me.”

  “Then let’s quit jabbering and go find whoever took that shot,” Steve said. “Father can track a mouse crawling through the woods.”

  Everyone nodded and remounted the horses, which had gathered together behind them, calmly grazing. Accustomed to the sound of gunfire while men hunted, they were only concerned with finding grass to forage.

  Keeping his voice low, Father said, “Follow me.” Instead of heading directly for the stand of pines where the shot came from, he rode his stallion at a gallop in a northerly direction for a short distance, making it look like they were heading back to camp. Then he turned east again and swiftly wove through the trees, keeping them within the cover of timber. Soon, he turned south toward the stand of pines.

  Because he was an expert tracker, Father knew the kinds of things a man would do to avoid leaving a trail—stepping only on rocks, cutting zig-zags through the forest, walking in circles, anything to confuse a pursuer. Steve was confident, they would find whoever fired that shot.

  Steve said in a low voice, “We’re almost there.”

  Father nodded. “Keep your horses behind mine.”

  Steve didn’t like the fact that his father was out front and the most vulnerable to a shot. “Father, let me track,” he said.

  Ignoring him, Father kept his eyes focused on the ground.

  Steve glanced over his shoulder at Samuel, who rode behind him, followed by Baldy. They both looked worried too. Steve decided to keep a close watch on the trail ahead. He withdrew his pistol.

  In a couple of minutes, Father pointed. Disturbed pine needles lay beneath a large evergreen. His father dismounted and studied the tree’s bark. He pointed to a spot where the soft bark had been rubbed off. “He stood here and braced himself against this tree.” Then, leading George behind him, Father followed the trail on foot for a while before he remounted.

  For another half-hour, they pressed on, following the tracks of a man on foot who was evidently heading toward town.

  Soon Stardust’s ears twitched together. Friendly Indians once taught Steve that upon sensing an approaching wolf or another predator, a horse will twitch their ears alternatively. But upon coming near to a man, a horse’s ears will twitch together. The shooter was nearby.

  Shortly, they spotted someone in the distance, trudging through a pasture, about a mile from town. A single man, carrying a rifle, and in a hurry.

  The four of them took off at a gallop toward the man.

  The cowardly shooter turned around and stood there calmly, waiting for them to reach him.

  But not one of them was calm.

  Chapter 28

  They rode up pistols drawn. Steve was normally not bad-tempered, but fury now burned in his chest. This man nearly killed his brother. He would pay dearly.

  The man hadn’t even tried to run. Perhaps he realized he couldn’t possibly outrun their horses. He politely nodded to them as they rode up. “I nearly had you,” the shooter told Samuel with an odd grin.

  The man’s bravado rankled Steve to his core.

  “If you had shot him, you’d be a dead man now,” Father retorted with a fiery censuring glare.

  The fellow fixed his eyes on Samuel. “God always guides my aim. But today he didn’t. So, I guess the Lord wants you to live, Sir. First shot I’ve missed in a blue moon.”

  The blasted rotter actually seemed prideful.

  A muscle flicked angrily in Samuel’s clenched jaw. “Why did you try to kill me?” he demanded.

  “I think you know,” he said. “You’ve made a powerful enemy. And the Bible says everyone must submit to governing authorities. For all authority comes from God, and those in positions of authority have been placed there by God.”

  “Name him!” Steve demanded. “Name the man who paid you!”

  “The Alcalde.”

  What do you do when the killer you need to turn in to the law was hired by the very man who represented the law? Steve knew that Procela had both administrative and judicial authority. An idea flashed through his mind. Perhaps it was time to turn to military authority. But that could be a dangerous gamble.

  “What’s your name?” Baldy asked.

  “Jim Giller, but I’m often called Deacon Jim.”

  “Scripture describes the qualifications for a deacon,” Baldy said, “and being a killer is not among them.” His voice was taut with anger.

  “Ah, but 1 Timothy says a deacon must be dignified, not double-tongued, not addicted to much wine, not greedy for dishonest gain. I am all of those things, Sir. And a good Methodist to boot.”

  Baldy stared at the man. “Not greedy for dishonest gain?”

  The brazen fiend actually had the gall to look offended.

  “I am not dishonest! Nor do I lie! I earn my gain by doing a task that needs doing for those in authority. The Alcalde is the law here, and I help him enforce the law.”

  Baldy’s face reddened in anger. “You, Sir, are an abomination to God’s word. With impudent insolence, you take scripture to mean whatever you want it to.”

  Giller pointed a long finger at Baldy. “And you, Sir, are a mouthy, disrespectful man.”

  “You expect respect after trying to kill one of us?” Samuel said.

  Baldy sighed and shook his head. “This man is the type of man who gives religion a bad name. He’s religious without true faith. What scripture calls an apostate—a cloud without water.”

  Giller started to object, but Father raised a hand to cut him off.

  “Now, the question becomes what do we do with this man,” Father said.

  “And the Alcalde!” Steve said. “It’s time for that man’s reign of terror to end. Procela is responsible for Rebecca’s brothers being falsely accused and shot by a firing squad. And now this! Who knows how many others the Alcalde has killed without bloodying his own hands?”

  “I do.”

  They all stared at the man in utter disbelief.

  “He’s hired you to do this before?” Steve asked.

  Giller raised his chin indignantly. “I help the Alcalde keep the peace.”

  “Peace!” Steve bellowed with angry irony.

  “Tie him up, Steve,” Father said. “And give his rifle to Samuel.”

  Steve dismounted and glared at Giller with blazing fury. He grabbed the still warm rifle barrel from him and held it up to Samuel.

  His brother hesitated, understandably repulsed by the weapon. Then Samuel grabbed it, and Steve tied Giller’s hands behind him.

  “Walk!” Father told the man. “Straight to the Alcalde’
s home.”

  The fellow appeared to be surprised, and Steve saw in his eyes the first sign that the hired killer might be worried.

  Another forty-five minutes later, after receiving many curious stares along the way, they reached the Alcalde’s home. No one had tried to stop them. Steve was certain they all looked like men not in a mood to be trifled with.

  And they weren’t. Particularly his brother, Samuel. The time it took to get there only allowed the four of them to grow even angrier. For Procela to have hired someone to shoot down his brother in cold blood was simply unfathomable.

  The poorly-clad Mexican soldiers were still there. But with a glance toward a bristling Samuel, and Steve, Father, and Baldy, they simply looked away or turned their backs. Clearly, these soldiers could see the fury on their faces. It was also possible that they were not fans of the Alcalde.

  Steve dismounted and shoved Giller toward the Alcalde’s front door.

  “Samuel, bring my rope,” Father said.

  Steve didn’t knock and didn’t wait for the servant. He opened the door and propelled Giller inside. He drew his pistol as he entered. The rest of them followed his long and indignant strides, their pistols drawn as well. So far, this had been a test of wills. Now it would be a test of backbone. And justice.

  Justice for Rebecca’s brothers.

  Justice for the people of Nacogdoches.

  Watching for any resistance, they made their way to the Alcalde’s office and stormed inside.

  “How dare you enter my office with weapons drawn?” Procela barked as he sprang up from his desk. “Who is this man you have tied up?”

  “You know damned well who he is,” Steve spat, stepping forward. He threw his fist into the Alcalde’s jaw, knocking him backward.

  “And I know damned well who you are, Alcalde,” Samuel roared. “You’re a corrupt, evil, man who is ruining this part of Texas for good, honest people. We’ll not let you do that any longer.”

  “Just what do you think you can do about it?” Procela asked, his voice mocking and his face contemptuous, as he rubbed his jaw. “You’re just one of many desperate Americanos crawling around here. All wanting the same thing. I’ll see to it that you never get land in Tejas!”

  “I don’t think you’ll have that chance,” Father said. “Time and again you’ve cheated the settlers of Nacogdoches. Time and again you’ve turned a deaf ear to the requests of good men like us.”

  Procela harrumphed, but Father continued.

  “You stand there fat and comfortable in this palatial home while the settlers who’ve come here with hope in their hearts languish waiting for a chance to get the land Mexico promised them. They left their homes because of that promise. Now, their children sleep in lean-tos, one-room hovels, or crude tents made of oiled cloth or animal hides. Meanwhile, you take bribe after bribe and deliver only empty promises.”

  Steve knew what he had to do to help Rebecca and the town. It would be risky, but if there was a chance he could get justice for her brothers, it would be worth it. “Your time as Alcalde is over,” he said, with a calculating glare. “I’m making a citizen’s arrest.”

  Father’s face lit with approval. “Shrewd, Steve.”

  Procela’s dark brows drew together. “Citizen’s arrest?”

  “That’s right,” Steve said. “You, Sir, are under arrest.”

  “Ridiculous!” Procela said.

  “Two of my brothers are lawyers,” Father said. “We’ve learned a great deal about the law from them. The practice of citizen’s arrests dates back to medieval times and is common law now. Sheriffs encourage ordinary citizens to help apprehend and deal with lawbreakers. It is common practice along the Red River and in the Territories, where officials of the law are sparse.”

  Procela ground out a disgusted noise. “But this is Mexico, not the United States, and we have no sheriff. I am the law here!”

  “But you are dealing with citizens of the United States, and we expect officials to respect the law,” Samuel said.

  “And Sir, we have no respect for you because you clearly have no respect for the law,” Steve said. He pointed his pistol directly at Procela and then slowly at Giller. “Or this hatchet man you hired to kill my brother.”

  Procela pounded his fist on his desk. “I am done with you! Get out of my office. Go sleep with your cows.”

  “You’re a hard-hearted rotter,” Baldy said. “How can you live with yourself?”

  “How can you live with yourself?” Procela retorted, a vivid mockery in his stare. “You never intended to move back to Louisiana. You are a close companion of these men. You tried to fool me. That is why I hired Giller.”

  “Then you should have confronted me, not tried to kill this fine young man who desperately needs land to feed his cattle. Cattle that will feed people this winter,” Baldy shouted and pointed at Samuel. “You wanted a doctor for this town, and he wanted land with water. It could have been a simple solution for all of us.”

  But it wasn’t simple. Self-recrimination washed over Steve. His rash idea almost got Samuel killed.

  “Steve, your rope,” Father said.

  “Dr. Grant, don’t let these men hurt me,” Procela cried.

  Wide-eyed with sudden fear, Procela backed up.

  As he approached the Alcalde, Steve watched him carefully in case the man tried to pull a weapon. He grabbed Procela’s arms and tugged them behind him. Steve could smell fear in the sweat that covered the man’s face and neck.

  “Outside!” Father ordered.

  “First, I want our fifty gold pieces. Where are they?” Samuel demanded.

  Procela’s eyes darted toward Giller.

  Steve glared at Giller “How much did he pay you?”

  “I have twenty-five pieces of gold in my pocket,” Giller said. “The rest is likely in that chest on his desk.”

  “You double-crossing turncoat,” Procela yelled at Giller.

  “I don’t lie, cheat, or steal,” Giller said, with a prideful voice. “If anyone’s been double-crossed, it’s me. I thought I was working for the law around here. I see now that I was deceived and tempted by the devil himself.”

  Samuel threw open the chest and found his money.

  Baldy reached into the killer’s waistcoat and recovered the rest. The doctor stuffed the pouch into the one Samuel held.

  Procela’s servant entered the room at that point and gasped at the scene before him.

  “Get the soldiers! Now!” Procela yelled at him.

  “Si,” the servant said and went running.

  “Now what?” Samuel asked Father.

  “We face them, like men. There’s four of us and four of them,” Father said.

  “Unless they attack us, I don’t want them killed,” Baldy said. “They likely don’t like the Alcalde any more than we do.”

  “I don’t think they will fight to defend him based on the indifferent looks they gave us when we arrived,” Steve said. “They’re just doing what they’ve been ordered to do.”

  “Agreed,” Father said. “Get going, Alcalde.”

  Procela stepped around his desk and snarled at Giller as he passed by the man.

  Father and Baldy followed behind the Alcalde while Samuel and Steve shoved the killer into the hallway and toward the door.

  They went through the front door and found the servant running toward them.

  “The soldiers they won’t come,” the panicky servant said, waving his arms wildly. “They turned and walked away.”

  “Insolent imbeciles,” Procela said. “I’ll have them shot for this.”

  “Like the Tyler twins?” Steve asked.

  Procela glared at Steve but didn’t bother to deny it.

  “Your days of having people shot are over,” Steve told him.

  “Both of you march toward the fort,” Father ordered.

  The four of them mounted and followed the two tied men as they trudged through the streets.

  Slowly, the citizens of the town too
k notice. One by one, they came out of stores and taverns and started following them. Steve encouraged them by waving them forward.

  “What did Deacon Jim do?” one of them called.

  “Procela hired him to kill me,” Samuel yelled back. “He had the blood money in his pocket. Twenty-five gold pieces.”

  “I always thought that man was peculiar,” someone in the crowd said.

  “His real name is Killer Giller,” Procela volunteered, with a vicious sneer at Giller. Apparently, it was the Alcalde’s way of paying Giller back for his earlier treachery.

  “Procela’s kept me waiting for land for a year!” one man yelled.

  “He took my bribe and I never saw a blade of grass, much less land,” another said.

  “He’s as corrupt as I am poor,” a fellow in rags said. “Lynch him!”

  “Hang him!” a skinny woman called. “Procela had my husband killed. I can’t prove it, but I know it. Rid this town of that vermin.”

  Soon, the largely American crowd grew to a substantial size, and they all started yelling, “Lynch them!”

  As they passed by José Antonio Navarro’s office, the solicitor stepped outside.

  Steve wasn’t surprised to see a slight smile on the lawyer’s face. Nor was he surprised when Navarro joined the people following them to the fort.

  Smiling with happiness, Rebecca stepped out of the dressmaker’s shop, still holding a small sample of lace that her veil would be made out of. Over the last few years, new stores that sold ready-to-wear clothing and the dressmaker’s shop, which imported fabric and lace, released many a housewife and young women like herself from hours at the looms and spinning wheels. She’d made good use of that extra time teaching the children at the sugar mill and focusing on her own studies.

  She tucked the lace inside her small reticule and glanced up when she heard a disturbance down the street. The scene before her eyes took away her smile and made her heart stop in her chest.

  Coming up the street were Steve, his father, a brother, and Baldy. They were riding their mounts behind two men—the Alcalde and another man she didn’t recognize—both with their hands tied behind their backs. Were the two their prisoners? The Alcalde certainly deserved to be. Perhaps Procela had pushed the Wyllies too far, and the man would finally face the crimes she believed he had committed against her family.