by Bobbi Smith
It had been a long and dusty trip from Galveston to Austin, and Luke Majors was more than ready for a hot bath, a hot meal, and some good whiskey as he checked into the hotel. He registered using just his first name of Lucas, for he didn't want to draw attention to himself. His reputation as a fast gun was well known, and the last thing he wanted right now was trouble.
After cleaning up, Luke deliberately left his gun in the room when he went down to dinner. He wanted to enjoy a quiet evening without any incidents. He ate in the small hotel restaurant and then headed across the street to the Lone Star Saloon for a drink.
It was a weeknight, yet the saloon was reasonably busy. Luke entered and stopped just inside the door to take a quick look around. The customers were absorbed in their own business of gambling and drinking, and paid little attention to him. He was glad. It wasn't always that way.
"Whiskey," he ordered as he came to stand at the bar.
"You're new in town, aren't you?" the barkeep asked as he set a glass before him and sloshed a good portion of the amber liquid into it.
"Just passing through."
"Where you from?"
"Around." Luke kept his answer short and curt as he slid some coins across the counter.
"Enjoy your drink." The barkeep had sense enough to know when a man wanted to be left alone, and something about this stranger didn't invite questions. He moved away.
Alone and enjoying it, Luke took a deep drink. It wasn't the best whiskey, but it would do. He idly studied the painting hanging in the place of honor over the bar: a half-nude woman reclining on a settee. A few girls were circulating the room, trying to stir up extra business, but he ignored them. There were a few poker games going on, too, but he wasn't about to gamble tonight. His luck had held in Galveston when he'd won big, and he was smart enough to quit while he was ahead. Same went for his gunfighting. The night in Galveston when he'd won the ranch was the night he'd quit. He was a rancher now, not a gunman.
Luke finished off his first drink, and the barkeep immediately appeared to refill his glass. Halfway through his second whiskey, he began to feel more relaxed than he had in a long time. Maybe life could be good again.
Across the room at one of the poker tables, Texas Ranger Jack Logan looked up from his game. He noticed the man at the bar and frowned. There was something familiar about him, and Jack wondered if possibly...
"Jack," one of his Ranger friends prodded, reminding him that it was his turn.
Jack glanced down at his pitiful hand and tossed" the cards on the table in disgust. "I'm out."
He stood and started toward the bar and the man he thought he recognized. He studied the way the stranger stood, the set of his shoulders, and he knew this had to be Luke Majors. Jack didn't know what the chances were of both of them showing up in the same saloon in Austin on the same night, but he was glad. He'd been waiting a long time for this moment.
"I think I know you, friend." Jack stopped several paces behind the stranger.
At the sound of the man's deep voice, Luke tensed. It wasn't the first time he'd been greeted by those words, and Luke knew there could be a subtle threat in them. Something about the voice sounded vaguely familiar to him, and that worried him more. This was someone from his past. Suddenly he was sorry he was unarmed.
"I'm new in town," Luke offered. He set his glass down with infinite care and kept his hands away from his body, making no quick moves as he turned very slowly. He didn't want the man to mis take his actions for an attempt to go for a gun.
"I figured as much."
Out of the corner of his eye, Luke caught a glimpse of the man. He was tall, lean, and darkhaired. There was an aura of power and authority about him, and he was wearing his gun as if he were born to it. His dark-eyed gaze was riveted on Luke with piercing, challenging intensity. Then Luke faced him fully, and their gazes met and locked.
Suddenly the stranger-the man Luke thought was out to fight him-smiled. "What the hell are you doing in Austin, Luke?"
"Jack?" All the tension, all the fear that had filled Luke, drained from him as he stared at the friend he hadn't seen since the war. "I can't believe it!"
"Neither can l!"
They shook hands, clapping each other enthusiastically on the back.
Around them, the other men in the saloon let out a collective sigh of relief. For a moment, everyone had feared something ugly was about to happen.
Jack got a drink from the bartender and settled in with Luke at a table in a quiet corner, to talk and catch up on their years apart. They had been friends in their youth back in Georgia, Jack having grown up on Riverwood, a plantation near the Majors family's own Belgrove. They'd lost contact during the war, and by the time Luke had returned home, the Logans had already moved on.
"The last I heard about you, the neighbors said you'd gone to Texas," Luke said, still smiling over the unexpected pleasure of his company.
"Here I am." Jack nodded. "There was nothing left at Riverwood. Sherman's men burned it. Then I got word that Father was dead." He was silent for a moment as he touched on those longsuppressed memories. "Of all our kin, there was only my mother, my sister, Ellie, and her husband, Charles, left. We packed up what little we had and moved on. We settled just outside of Galveston. Ellie's still there with her family, but my mother died a few years back."
"I'm sorry." Luke meant it. He'd always loved and respected Mrs. Logan.
"So am I. I call Charles and Ellie's place home whenever I'm around, but that isn't too often these days. I'm a Ranger now. What about you? What happened to you after the war? We checked on Belgrove and saw that it was still standing. I spoke with Clarissa and was sorry to hear about your mother."
Memories of that time flooded back. Luke took a stiff drink. His gaze was hard as he looked up at his friend. "My brother Dan and my father never made it back."
They shared a look of understanding. Each had seen the horror of the battlefields and knew firsthand the death and destruction that had been wrought. "What about Belgrove and Clarissa?"
"By the time I got back, it had already been sold and Clarissa had married the man who'd bought it. She'd told me once that her dream was to be the mistress of Belgrove, and, by God, she made her dream come true."
Jack was surprised. He'd thought Clarissa loved Luke and was going to wait for him. They'd been engaged before he'd gone off to war and had seemed so happy. "What did she say?"
"What could she say?" Luke countered bitterly. "It was over." Her betrayal had been the final blow that had severed all his ties with the land that had been his home. He'd left Georgia then and had never gone back.
"So what have you been doing since?" Jack asked, forcing Luke from his dark thoughts. "Is what I heard about you true?"
"Depends on what you heard." Luke was evasive.
"Word around is that you're fast with a gunreal fast."
"I'm not wanted anywhere, if that's what you're asking."
"It wasn't, but I'm glad. I'd hate to think that I might have to come after you one day." Jack grinned, relieved by the news, and took another drink.
"It'd be interesting." Luke smiled, too. As youths, they'd often taken target practice together, and each had taken pride in his own accurate shooting ability. "But you don't have to worry about my reputation anymore. Those days are over," Luke told him.
"You're sure?" Jack knew how hard it was for a man who lived by the gun to give it up.
"I won a ranch in a poker game in Galveston, and I'm heading there now to settle down." He went on to tell his friend everything he knew about the property, which wasn't a lot just that it was located near Del Fuego and had some cattle and a few head of horses on it. "It may not prove to be much, but at least it's mine."
Jack lifted his glass of whiskey in salute. "I'm glad your luck is changing. Here's to the future. What's the name of the place?"
"I'm calling it the Trinity, after my poker hand. I won it with three threes."
Jack gave him an incredulous l
ook. "That must have been one helluva poker game."
"It was, but it was worth it. The Trinity is home now. It's where I'm going to stay."
"But you haven't even seen it yet."
"It doesn't matter. It's mine, and nothing is ever going to take it from me."
Jack heard the fierceness in his tone and knew Luke meant every word. He admired his friend's courage. Sometimes it could be difficult to escape the past, but if anyone could do it, Luke could.
They talked long into the night, reminiscing about a gentler, more elegant time. They had been different men then, and they knew things would never be that way again.
It was very late when they finally parted. Jack had to ride out early. He and his other Ranger friends were due in Waco for a meeting. Before the two men separated, they promised to stay in touch. They hoped they would.
Luke slept for only a few hours before rising and setting out once more for Del Fuego. With each passing mile, his affinity for the Texas heartland grew. There was something about this wide-open place that touched a chord within him and made him want to stay, to put down roots. A man could prosper and build a good life here.
Luke's feelings of anticipation grew as his days of travel passed. He tried to deny his excitement, for he had suffered too many disappointments in the past. But when he came upon the low-running creek that marked the eastern boundary of his newly acquired range, a thrill shot through him.
Reining in, he turned in the saddle to survey the land around him. To the west and north, the countryside stretched in an endless sea of low, rolling hills and mesquite trees, and it was all his for as far as the eye could see.
More than ready to reach his journey's end, he spurred his horse on, watching for the road that would lead to the ranch house. To his surprise, he found the beaten track easily and turned down it. He had ridden for better than a mile when he finally topped a low rise, and there spread out before him was the prize he'd sought-what had been the Jackson ranch and was now the Trinity.
The ranch was much as George Jackson, the losing gambler, had described it when he'd turned over the deed. There was a main house, a few outbuildings, corrals, and some stock. Jackson had told him about the hired hand named Jessy who helped run the place for him, but Luke could see no sign of him.
Urging his mount down the slope, Luke stopped before the house and swung slowly down from the saddle. He looped the reins over the hitching rail and stood, hands on his hips, staring at his new home. The house was small, not more than four or five rooms, and had a porch across the front. It was run-down and in need of repair. He was just starting up the walk when he heard a deep, threatening voice call out to him.
"Hold it right there, mister."
Luke stopped in his tracks as a tall, seriouslooking, gray-haired man appeared from around back. He was carrying a shotgun, and it was pointed straight at his chest.
"Afternoon," Luke greeted him cordially.
"Maybe it is and maybe it ain't. What are you doing here? What do you want?"
"Are you Jessy?"
"I am."
"George Jackson told me about you. I'm Luke Majors, the new owner of the ranch. I won it from Jackson in a poker game in Galveston. I have the deed in my saddlebag, if you'd like to see it." He nodded toward his horse, but made no move to retrieve it. He knew what a blast from a shotgun could do to a man, and he didn't want to find himself on the receiving end.
"Get it." Jessy waved him toward his horse with the weapon.
Luke retrieved the document and handed it over. Jessy read it and then slowly lowered the gun.
"That man always was a damned fool." He looked up at Luke with new respect. "Sorry about the shotgun, but a man can't be too careful around these parts." He finally smiled and offered his hand in friendship. "I'm Jessy Hardy. Been working here since Mr. Jackson hired me in seventythree."
"Good to meet you, Jessy." Luke found his handshake firm and steady, and the look in his eyes honest and forthright. He liked him immediately.
"I guess this means you're the new boss. Come on in, I'll show you around the house."
"Thanks."
Half an hour later, Luke stood with Jessy at the corral watching the few head of horses that had come with the property. Jessy had shown him the extent of his holdings-he now owned 20 horses and about 200 head of cattle.
"Will you stay on and work for me?" Luke asked.
"I'd like that." Jessy was relieved at the offer. Certainly, his life couldn't be much worse with this new owner. Luke Majors seemed like a smart man. He had to be better at ranching than Jackson had been.
"Good. There is one other thing." At Jessy's curious look, Luke went on, "I'm changing the name of the place. I want to name it after the winning hand I had in the poker game."
"What's it gonna be? The Ranch Royale? The Full House?" Jessy asked with interest, thinking the hand must have been a great one to have won such a prize.
Luke's smile was wry. "No. I'm going to call it the Trinity."
"The Trinity?" The other man glanced over at him in disbelief. "Jackson lost this place to three of a kind?"
"Three threes, to be exact. Jackson had two pair, and the way things had been going all night, that probably seemed like enough to win to him. I was lucky." Luke gazed out over the land that was his, and for the first time in years he was filled with a sense of well-being and peace. "Very lucky."
Two strangers who looked like they'd been traveling a long way entered the Lone Star Saloon and came to stand at the bar. There was a hardness about them, a single-mindedness of purpose that made the bartender instantly cautious of them.
"We're looking for a man," the younger of the two men announced.
"There's a lot of men come in here."
"This man's name is Majors, Luke Majors, the gunfighter. You know him?"
"I've heard the name."
"We know Majors was in Galveston a while back, and we heard that he might be heading this way. We need to find him. Has he been here?"
"Maybe he has been and maybe he hasn't. What's it to you?" the barkeep asked. Majors had tipped him handsomely the night he was there, and the man wasn't about to betray him.
"It's personal. We're just trying to locate him."
The bartender studied the two for a minute, and then said, "It's been a while since I last saw him. Sorry, I can't help you any more than that."
The man who had done all the talking nodded and slid a coin across the bar to him for his trouble.
The bartender pocketed it and watched as the two left the saloon. There was something troubling about them, but he couldn't put his finger on it. A desperation of some sort, but God knows what. The good news was, he hadn't given anything away about Majors and he wasn't going to. If they found him, they were going to have to do it without any help from him.
"You mean you're not going to loan me the money?" Luke's jaw was set in a hard line and his eyes flared with sudden anger as he stared at the banker.
Coming here had been one of the most difficult things Luke had ever done, but he'd done it for the ranch. In the six months since he'd taken over the Trinity, he'd kept a low profile, working hard and only going into town when he needed supplies. He'd wanted to live a quiet, dignified life again, and he'd been working day and night toward that goal. Just when he'd thought he was going to make it, the bill for back taxes had come-to the tune of some 250 dollars. What money Luke had had to begin with had all been spent fixing up the ranch. There was no way he had that kind of cash, and so he'd come to Jonathan Harris as a businessman wanting to get an honest loan. It enraged Luke, now, to discover that humbling himself before this pompous ass had been for nothing.
"The decision is nothing personal," Harris went on quickly, growing even more nervous now that he'd seen the look in Majors's eyes. The man was a killer! He'd heard of Majors's reputation. "It wouldn't be a sound investment for the bank to make. You're new to the area. You have no money on deposit with us. You haven't proven the ranch to be pr
ofitable, and certainly Jackson never made any money off that land. That, plus what we know of your background... you, er, seem to have little ranching expertise." He cleared his throat and glanced away, wishing the man he knew was a gunfighter would just leave. He didn't want Luke Majors anywhere around his bank. Why, he'd even come in here today wearing his gun! Harris was hard-pressed not to shudder openly.
"But I only need two hundred fifty dollars to pay the back taxes that Jackson didn't pay. I've made improvements on the structures, I've fenced, and I've added to the herd. You won't lose your money. I give you my word that it will be repaid within a year." Luke repeated his story, wanting the man to understand his resolve to make the Trinity pay off. He planned to make it a showplace. He planned to invest in some new horseflesh and start breeding horses, too, as soon as he could afford it. His family had had a fine stable at Belgrove.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Majors," Harris replied coldly.
"You're sony?" Luke ground out, feeling cor nered and angry and frustrated. He snatched his hat up from where he'd laid it on the banker's highly polished mahogany desk and rose from his chair. There was an ominous tone to his voice as he spoke. "Not nearly as sorry as-"
"This is a holdup! Give me all the money!" At the teller's window a man of nondescript dress was drawing his gun.
The clerk started to scream.
"Shut up! We're the El Diablo gang. Another sound and I'll shoot everybody in here!"
Luke saw what was happening, anticipated the robber's move, and automatically went for his own weapon.
"No!" Harris shouted, terrified that the infamous gang of killers was in his bank. He fumbled at his desk drawer in an effort to get the small derringer he kept there, certain Luke was one of the gang.
The robber saw both Luke and Harris going for guns and fired in their direction. Harris let out a shriek of pain as he collapsed to the floor.
The robber saw that Luke was still armed, and he fired again. Luke returned his fire, his shot splintering wood on the counter near the other man.
