by Sara Orwig
“This is heaven,” she said, sinking down, sliding beneath the water and relishing the refreshing feel of it closing over her head. She slid up, splashing, soaping her hair.
As she stood combing her damp hair, Abby stepped onto the balcony. “Rachel, the courtyard below is beautiful. I want to go down there when we get back. There’s a handsome man sitting down there writing in a ledger!” She moved restlessly. “Please, hurry. I want to go, because we don’t have long.”
“I’m ready. I don’t care if my hair is damp,” she said, looking at herself in the mirror, startled by the change in her appearance. Her skin was darker, her hair bleached lighter with gold streaks in the red, making her eyes appear a more vivid green. She wouldn’t be a belle at home with her darker skin and freckles dotting her nose, but she was beyond that now in years anyway. She smoothed the wrinkled blue muslin dress, wishing they could get enough material for new dresses for all of them, but it was more important that Abby have them, because she was of marriageable age. Rachel could wait. Lissa would have to have something new before long, because she was outgrowing her old things.
“Rachel, come on,” Abigail said, holding Lissa’s hand.
They went down the stairs and she looked at Dan waiting in the lobby. As his bold gaze drifted over her, she wished she had something fancier than the blue muslin.
Dressed in a black coat and pants and a fresh white shirt, he looked dashing. She marveled at the change in him from the man dressed only in a breechcloth to the man waiting for her now. Either way, he made her heart race. Why was he still with them? She felt something amiss, but then she shrugged away the thought. He would probably go out of their lives tomorrow, and she would never see him again. The thought of his leaving hurt more each time she faced it. She would never forget him.
“Ready?” he asked, taking her arm. “If we ask at the bank, they should be able to tell you where to find your husband.”
As they stepped into the sunshine, they strolled past an old mission. Abigail and Lissa followed while Rachel walked along beside Dan. They asked about Elias Johnson at the bank and then at a general store. They drifted in and out of stores, Dan going into saloons, Abby and Lissa moving on to look at shops. Rachel began to wish Dan Overton wasn’t at her side when each person said he didn’t know Elias. She wanted to blurt out the truth to Dan, yet now she was caught in the fabrication. When they came out of a confectionery, Abigail stood talking to a tall, blond stranger with a lean face and ready smile.
“Abigail?” Rachel asked, feeling a ripple of alarm. How long would she be suspicious of each stranger, see a bounty hunter in every man who paid them the slightest attention.
Smiling up at the stranger, Abigail glanced at Rachel. “Rachel, this is William Murdock. Mr. Murdock, meet my sister Rachel Johnson and Mr. Dan Overton who traveled here with us.”
“How’d do, ma’am,” William Murdock said, tipping his broad-brimmed, battered hat politely and shaking hands with Dan.
“How do you do,” she answered. “We need to get our errands run, Abigail.”
“You take Lissa, Rachel,” Abigail replied, giving Lissa’s hand to Rachel, “and I’ll meet you at the hotel.”
“Abby, I need you with me,” Rachel stated firmly, becoming annoyed with Abigail for wanting to talk to the stranger.
“I’ll catch right up. Now you run along,” Abby answered, turning Rachel and propelling her away. Rachel started to protest, but Dan touched her arm.
“She’s all right,” Dan said with amusement. “It’s daylight, and you’re only a few blocks from the hotel. He won’t carry her away with him,” Dan said, taking Lissa’s other hand while she walked between them.
“I suppose. It doesn’t seem proper to talk to a stranger like that. Life may be different here, and Abby hasn’t had a chance to talk to many young men.”
“Life is going to be very different. Your Southern belle rules won’t apply on the frontier.”
Again she thought she detected bitterness in his answer and she wondered about him and what had happened to him in Louisiana.
“Who was the woman in your past?”
He glanced at her, his dark eyes meeting hers before he looked away, staring straight ahead. She gazed at his profile, the slightly arched nose that gave him an imperious air, the prominent cheekbones and raven hair that showed his Kiowa blood.
“I was married. My wife and my son died in an accident,” he said tersely.
“I’m sorry! How long ago?”
“A long time ago. In 1859 before the war.”
Shocked by his answer, she wondered about his past. He had made remarks that indicated trouble because he was a halfbreed. He had a son that he had lost. Suddenly she could understand some of his toughness and the barriers he kept around himself. He must have been hurt dreadfully. She reached over to touch his arm. “I’m sorry about your loss,” she repeated.
He swung his head around to look at her. “It was a long time ago.”
“You can marry again some day.”
“No. I won’t do that. I loved them very much.”
She was startled by his answer, trying to imagine him settled with a wife and child and unable to do so. She glanced at him again as they walked. He held Lissa’s hand and on his hip was the holster with the Colt. He had looked far more at home in the Kiowa camp, and she could imagine him returning to that life.
“You said something about Southern belles not approving of halfbreeds. Your wife must have approved.”
“She did. After she married me, some of her friends stopped seeing her because I didn’t have the correct bloodlines.”
“Has your mother ever wanted to go back to her people?”
“No, but she taught me to speak Kiowa and she approved of my going to stay with them. She loves my father and she’s happy with him. And he loves her very much. I’m trying to help them get back some of what they lost during the war.”
“We lost almost everything. Everything we have is in the wagon. And that’s more than some of our friends have now.”
“After living a year with my mother’s people, possessions don’t seem as important. A horse, a gun, things that are necessary for survival, but some of the other isn’t as important as it once was. Maybe it’s different for women. My mother loves the things my father has given her. She likes her fancy dresses, although she doesn’t have many of those right now.”
“I just want my family safe. I wish Pa could be like he used to be. The last few years have been hard on him, and he hasn’t been well. He was different before the war.”
“You did a good job of getting your family here,” Dan said, looking at her.
Rachel felt pleased by his praise. “Thank you, but we wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for your help.”
“You still did a fine job of it. Where did you learn to shoot?”
“During the war. Things were getting worse and we lived out from town. Pa was a cotton planter. Men were roaming the area, and I felt I should be able to protect us. Abby is afraid of guns, Josh was too young. Pa wasn’t always up and well enough to protect us. I was the only one.”
Dan paused, turning to look at her. “I have some errands to run. I’ll tell you goodbye here until tonight. Tonight I’ll take all of you to the fiesta.”
She gazed up at him, warm sunshine spilling over her shoulders. He sounded solemn as he talked, and she wondered about him.
“We don’t have party dresses.”
He tilted her chin up, his fingers rubbing her skin lightly, and suddenly she felt as if she were alone with him. Everything around them faded away, her attention held by the look in his eyes.
“You’ll look beautiful, Rachel,” he said quietly.
Her heart skipped, and she wished they were alone. She was pleased by his compliment. “Thank you,” she answered quietly.
“You know the way back to the hotel? I’ll see you tonight about seven.”
She nodded and he turned to cross the road. Holding
Lissa’s hand, Rachel watched him stride away. He seemed to be holding something back. And she still didn’t understand why he had persisted in traveling with them.
As Dan disappeared through a door, she looked up at the sign that listed a dentist, a barber, and a telegraph office.
Rachel stared at the small wooden sign with black letters. Telegraph Office.
He could be going to the barber to get his hair cut.
She continued to stare at the sign, all her suspicions returning full force. She turned to go to the hotel, and in another block she spotted Abigail standing alone on the corner. As she walked up to her, Abigail’s eyes shone with eagerness.
“Thanks, Rachel, for letting me talk to Mr. Murdock.”
“Abby, he may be very nice, but we’re on the frontier where the law is little more than a gun. Be careful about talking to strangers.”
“He was so nice. Tonight he asked if he can escort me to the fiesta—”
“You don’t know anything about him! This isn’t like home. There are all kinds of men here and some are bad.”
“All of you will be with me. I won’t get to meet anyone when we leave San Antonio. Imagine a party! I’ve never been to a real party! You’ve had them and you don’t care, but I’ve never been to a dance! Mr. Murdock told me he would teach me how to waltz.”
Rachel relented. “Go with him then, but go when we do and stay where everyone is.”
“Thank you! Rachel, if only we could just stay here in San Antonio, it would be wonderful.”
“It’s nice here. Do you want to look at material for a new dress?”
“Oh, yes!” Abigail took Lissa’s other hand, and they crossed the street and strolled back to Metzger’s general store.
Abby selected a deep rose cotton material and a bright blue calico. Rachel picked a flowered green calico for herself, pink cotton for Lissa. They bought the material and paid a stocky, balding man with spectacles perched on his bulbous nose. While he wrapped their purchases, Rachel gazed over the counter. “Sir, have you heard of a man who has lived in these parts for two years now—a Mr. Elias Johnson?”
He frowned. “No, ma’am. There’s a Horace Johnson—he’s married and has a family.”
“Elias is blond, tall, an inch over six feet. He has blue eyes and walks with a limp. He has a scar on his wrist. He fought in the war.”
“No, ma’am. I can’t recall meeting him. You two together?” he asked, pointing to Abigail.
“Yes, we are. I’m Mrs. Johnson and this is my sister Abigail and my daughter, Lissa.”
“Howdy, ma’am. Miss Abigail. I’m John Metzger. You have any menfolks in your family?”
“Yes, sir. My father and my brother are with us.”
“Good! If you go around town asking for a missing husband, there’s plenty who would like to take his place and few no-good men who would might stoop to force, but if you have menfolks, you won’t be bothered.”
“I can’t understand what’s happened,” she said, taking out a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. “Elias said he would settle near San Antonio, Texas. He was always true to his word.”
“Now, ma’am,” John Metzger said in a concerned voice. “Things can happen to men on the way west. Sometimes a man decides to keep going. Course with a pretty lady like you, he wouldn’t. But there’s lots of dangers to encounter coming out here. I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t know a Elias Johnson. I wish you luck in your search.”
She nodded and picked up the packages while Abby took Lissa’s hand and they left the store.
“Rachel, do you think you have to keep asking about a man who doesn’t exist? No one has threatened Pa.”
“We’re in a city now with a telegraph. I just want to make sure people don’t think we’re the Bentons.”
“You were afraid Dan was a marshall, but see, he’s not.”
“No,” she answered, glancing down the street. “He was married before. His wife and son died in an accident.”
“How awful!”
“Maybe that’s why he’s tough sometimes.”
She remembered the night Josh had hugged him, Dan rebuffing Josh and moving away. Now she realized it must have been because he was reminded of the son he had lost. She felt a rush of sympathy, because she knew how much she loved Abby and Josh and Lissa.
“Abby, take Lissa a moment. I want to go across the street.”
Looking mystified, Abby glanced around. “Rachel, there’s a confectioner. We’ll go in there and I’ll get Lissa a sweet.”
Barely hearing her, Rachel nodded, leaving them to cross the street. She looked up and down the street for Dan, knowing she would be able to spot his head and shoulders above the crowd. Her pulse quickened as she entered the small frame building. A man was getting a haircut while the dental chair stood empty. She moved toward a cluttered desk.
“Ma’am, can I be of help?” the barber asked.
“Yes,” she said, flashing him a broad smile. “My brother was in here not long ago. He was going to send a telegram to our uncle and I wondered if he had already sent it. He’s a tall, black-haired man.”
“Yes, ma’am, he was in here not long ago and the telegram has been sent.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and started to leave, pausing, “Sir, was it to our New Orleans’ uncle or our Vicksburg uncle?”
He frowned. “Ma’am, I don’t recall exactly. I think it was your Vicksburg uncle. Yes, it was.”
“Thank you,” Rachel answered perfunctorily. She felt cold, suspicions bombarding her. Why would Dan telegraph Vicksburg? What connection could he have there unless he was on Pa’s trail?
Worrying about the telegram, she went back to join Abby. She glanced down the dusty, busy San Antonio street. Maybe they weren’t so safe here after all.
In an hour they returned to the hotel, stepping into the high-ceiling lobby, the coolness welcome. Abby grabbed Rachel’s arm. “Rachel, look!” she whispered, sounding surprised.
Rachel looked across the lobby and was startled to see Pa headed toward them, a scowl clouding his features.
Rachel’s heart thudded because she knew something was wrong. Pa was frowning, the familiar look of worry in his eyes when things did not go well.
“Pa, what’s wrong?” she asked as he reached them. He glanced at Abby.
“Why don’t you take Lissa along, Abigail? I need to discuss something with Rachel and Lissa won’t want to sit still?”
“Yes, Papa,” Abigail said, glancing at Rachel with a frown. As soon as they walked away, Pa nodded toward empty chairs near a front window.
“Rachel, let’s sit down. I need to discuss something with you.”
Mystified, Rachel followed him to two blue wingback chairs that were next to the wide window. She sat down and waited while Pa rubbed his hands together.
“I was looking at cattle and met a man, Horace White. I told him I wanted to settle here. He didn’t have much to say, told me a little about ranching and left. In a while he was back and he said he wanted to make me a proposition. He’s selling out and moving on west. Rachel, I turned him down, but then I thought about it and it seemed only fair to tell you about his offer. I don’t think we should take it because of the danger involved,” Eb said solemnly.
“Horace White made me a generous offer, Rachel. Better than anything I dreamed possible. I’d get his land, his house, and his cattle and he has two thousand prime head and we’d have half our savings left.”
“Pa!” she exclaimed, excitement making her lean forward. “Only half our money and we could have a herd that size? Pa, that’s fantastic! I don’t care if we have to face renegades or wild animals, that’s beyond all our hopes and dreams. A house? We should ride out and look at his place before you make a decision.”
“I don’t think we should look at it or accept his offer,” Eb said solemnly, “but it seemed only right to discuss this with you. You’ve worked too hard taking care of all of us, for me to make this decision without you.”
&nbs
p; “Pa, what’s wrong with his offer? What kind of danger would we face?”
“The reason why Horace White is selling and moving—his neighbor wants his cattle and his land.”
“Then why doesn’t he sell to the neighbor?”
“He won’t get as much from the neighbor as he would from me if I take his offer. He said if I’d take it, he would be out and gone and the neighbor can’t do anything about it. The neighbor is going to take the land and cattle for almost nothing.”
“He can’t do that.”
“Around here he can. Rachel, occasionally men did dishonest things like that back home if they had the power and no scruples. These are times of upheaval and we’re on a frontier. Horace White said another man might be able to fight for the place, but he didn’t want to. We’d be taking on trouble. They’ve already burned White’s barn to the ground. I don’t want to take his offer, but I’ll listen if you feel different.”
“That’s three times as many cattle as you expected to buy and there’s a ranch house already built.”
“There are three wells and water on the place.”
“Pa, it sounds like a blessing from heaven! Let’s go look at it.”
“Rachel,” Pa said in a peculiar voice and a chill ran across her nape as she looked at him. “Horace White’s neighbor who wants his place is Lyman McKissick.”
Chapter 11
She drew a sharp breath, feeling a stab of anger and disappointment. Here was an opportunity for more of a start than they had dreamed possible. It would take several years to get a ranch house and a big herd. Years of fighting weather and heaven knows what else. Now for a price they could well afford, they would get a sizable herd and their own place. But they would have to contend with McKissick. How determined would he be to take their land? They had stood up to him on the trail, but Dan Overton had been with them. Could they have any kind of life if McKissick was determined to run them off?
“Pa, if you take Mr. White’s offer, won’t we have enough money to hire more hands than you had planned? If we have enough men, it seems to me we can fight McKissick. Did Horace White say how many men he had working for him?”
