Royce took Texanna’s arm and rushed her down the aisle and outside to the small porch. Brother Riley was the first person to file from the church. “Congratulations, Royce, Texanna. It’s a joy to share in your happiness today.” As the pastor moved on, Edna Murphy hugged first Royce and then Texanna. She patted Texanna’s cheek. “Lands, child, I believe you’re prettier today than the first time you wore that dress.”
They’d eaten, cut the wedding cake, and accepted everyone’s good wishes. Royce was ready to have his wife to himself. He started maneuvering Texanna toward the buckboard. When they were almost to the wagon, he felt a tug on his jacket.
Garrett stood beside him. “Pa?”
Royce leaned down to his son’s level. “What do you need, Son?”
“Is Texanna my ma now?”
Royce didn’t doubt Texanna’s affection for Garrett, but they’d never openly discussed her now being his son’s mother. He’d slipped up. They should’ve talked about it before Garrett asked. “Would you like for her to be?”
Attitude solemn, Garrett nodded. Royce’s heart twisted at the need on Garrett’s face. “Why don’t you ask her?”
Garrett moved to Texanna’s side and waited for her to notice him as she laughed at something Jason had said. The boy squeezed closer until Texanna felt his presence and reached out to embrace him as she continued to listen to Jason. He tugged on her skirt, and she leaned down. Royce couldn’t hear their conversation, but Texanna’s face turned soft and loving, and she kissed Garrett’s forehead and hugged him.
Someone clapped him on the shoulder, and Royce turned to see Matthew. “Molly’s anxious to get home to the twins, so we’re leaving.”
“Thanks for keeping Garrett for us.”
Matthew laughed. “He’ll be a big help with the babies, and we always enjoy having him.” His brother studied him for a minute then crushed him in a bear hug. “Congratulations, Royce. It’s wonderful to see you smiling again.”
Garrett squeezed his way back to Royce’s side, but spoke to his uncle. “I’m ready, Uncle Matthew, but I need to talk to Pa for a minute.”
Matthew patted Garrett’s back. “Okay, squirt. Meet us at the buggy.”
Garrett’s face was sober. “What’s bothering you, Son?”
“Nothing, Pa. Texanna told me she loves me, and if I wanted to, I should call her ‘Ma.”‘
Royce sighed with relief. “She did? What’d you say?”
Garrett drew in the dirt with the toe of his boot. “I said I wanted her to be my Ma.”
“You did? I’m glad.” He studied the boy’s expression of indecision. “Aren’t you happy about that?”
He nodded. “Yes sir. But, she’s not my real ma, is she?”
The boy was sharp as a tack. Royce squatted to Garrett’s eye level. “No, Son, she’s not. Can you trust me for a couple of days, until you come back from the farm?” Garrett nodded and Royce pulled him into his arms. “Just remember we both love you very much. I’ll explain everything when you get home.”
Garrett smiled and threw his arms around Royce’s neck. “Okay, Pa. I love you too.”
“Run on to Uncle Matthew’s buggy now, and be good for your Aunt Molly.” Royce watched as Matthew lifted Garrett into the buggy, and then he made his way to Texanna’s side. It was time to head home—past time, in his opinion.
As Matthew’s buggy passed them, Garrett yelled. “Bye, Pa. Bye, Ma.”
At the boy’s words, Texanna covered her mouth with one hand and waved with the other. She flashed Royce a teary smile and laid her head on his chest.
“Let’s go home.” He lifted Texanna into their wagon and went around to climb inside. Royce flicked the reins to urge Josie into a trot. Texanna scooted closer on the seat and took his arm. His heart expanded with pride. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a short trip while I’m off? Stay in a nice hotel?” He’d wanted to take her to San Antonio for a couple of days, but even though the locket was lost, she refused to get on the train. She wouldn’t even consider taking the train to Dallas.
“I’m sure.” She squeezed his arm. “But thank you for offering to take a trip. I’m sure we’ll find plenty to do right here.” She gave him a suggestive wink.
“Royce?”
“Hmm?”
“I’d like to have our rings engraved with something special.”
So, she hadn’t noticed the inscription inside hers yet. He’d pondered for hours over what to say. He hoped she’d be pleased. “I’ve already had yours inscribed.”
She leaned back. “You have?” She slipped it off and squinted to read the message. “My Love, My Wife—A Second Chance in Time.”
****
Royce had just finished checking on his two prisoners when Edna Murphy stomped into his office. “Good morning, Edna. What are you doing out and about so early?”
She snorted. “Don’t you try to sweet talk me, Royce Dyson. What do you mean by firing that nice young deputy of yours?”
“You mean Ross?” Why would Edna care who he hired or fired?
She nodded and straightened her spine.
“I fired him because he was disrespectful to Texanna. And she wasn’t the first woman he’s insulted. He was turning out to be a good deputy, but I can’t have men on the force who offend the good women of this town.”
Edna plopped down in the chair across from his desk, a defeated look on her face.
“Why do you ask? Has he bothered you?”
She drew herself up as if insulted. “Of course not. He came by this morning looking for work. I hired him to fix my roof. It’s been leaking some since this spring. I didn’t know he’d been fired until I mentioned Ross to Pete a minute ago.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand him acting that way. He seems to be such a nice boy.”
That’s what Royce thought when he’d hired him. And to be honest, he still thought the kid had more good than bad in him. “He’s had a hard life—told me his mother was a whor…ahem…a woman of ill repute, and the only thing she’d taught him was how to survive. He can’t have learned many manners growing up like that.”
She twisted the strings on her beaded reticule. “I guess I should fire him, but he seems to need the work.”
“Don’t be too hasty. He’s not mean, just needs to learn to respect women. Working for you may be the best thing that ever happened to him. Maybe you can teach him some manners.”
Edna stood, drew herself up to her full height, and strode to the door. “Thank you, Marshal. I’ll keep you apprised of the situation.”
Royce watched her go, a grin teasing his lips. If the kid didn’t learn manners from Edna, he was a lost cause.
****
Texanna cleaned the breakfast dishes, made the beds, and dressed in a riding skirt and blouse. Wouldn’t Pearl be tickled if she could see her now? The tomboyish neighbor girl being Little Miss Homemaker. Rather than put on her tennis shoes for all to see, she tugged on a pair of boots she’d bought at the general store. She’d just shrugged and looked confused when the storekeeper remarked on how much her feet had grown since the last pair of shoes she’d bought. Yeah, two sizes.
She made sure her .32-caliber model Colt was loaded, and slid it into her skirt pocket. It was small enough to not be burdensome, was single action so she didn’t have to worry about it going off, and had just enough punch to cause some damage, if needed. The very idea she’d once believed all cowboys in the old West wore a gun and holster was embarrassing. Movies and television were to blame for that misconception.
She saddled Strawberry and walked Garrett over to Aggie’s.
“I don’t see why I can’t go with you.” Garrett drug his feet and kicked up dirt along the path.
“Because, I have some business to tend to and don’t want to have to worry about you.”
“I wouldn’t be no trouble.”
That was true, but she didn’t want him along to witness her crime. She ruffled his hair. “Of course you wouldn’t, but you know, women somet
imes need to do some shopping on their own.”
He looked at her with hope. “I could stay with Pa.”
“Not today, young man. You can go with me another time.”
“Oh, all right.” His shoulders slumped. “But I gotta tell you, Aggie is going to make me work in the garden, and I’ll get my clothes all dirty.”
She couldn’t restrain her laugh. “Don’t you worry about the dirt. We’ve got enough water for your clothes and you.”
He mumbled and looked at his feet. “Yeah, never seen anybody waste so much water.”
They stopped at Aggie’s open gate. She stood inside the screen door. “Do I hear this boy grumbling?” He ran up the steps, and she opened the screen to him.
“No, we’re just discussing the conservation of water.” She mounted Strawberry. “I’ll be back by to pick him up in a couple of hours.”
“No rush. He’s welcome to stay until dinner time if you want.”
It might not be a bad idea for him to stay until Royce was finished chewing her out. She wondered if they’d be able to hear him yelling at her clear across the field. Most likely they’d understand every word. “We’ll see. Thanks, Aggie.” She waved and kicked Strawberry into a trot.
The streets were busy in Waco and it wasn’t even nine o’clock. People probably wanted to take care of business and get home before it got too hot. She avoided the marshal’s office and tied her horse to a hitching post outside the druggist’s. The telegraph office was two doors down, and she didn’t want people to see Strawberry hitched out front. Not that anyone would take notice, but just to be safe.
The heels of her boots made a loud resonating sound on the wooden sidewalk, and she tried to step quieter. No need to bring extra notice to herself. Inside, the clerk bent over his desk writing on something. He grumbled, “Be with you in a minute.” He finished his task and looked up. “Sorry, ma’am, didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
“It’s no problem. I’m not in a hurry.”
He stood up and walked up to the counter that separated his desk from the rest of the room. “Need to send a telegram, do you?”
“Yes, I do.” She felt like turning and running but had to see this through.
He handed her a sheet of paper and a stubby pencil. “Make it as few words as possible to save cost.”
She nodded and wrote out her message. By now she knew it from memory. “What’s that sheriff’s name over in Limestone County?”
“Why that’d be Sheriff Avert. Why you askin’?” His brows furrowed above the round, wire-rimmed spectacles. “You needin’ to get a message to him?”
“Uh, yes, I do. Telegrams are confidential, aren’t they?”
He drew himself up to his full five-foot, four-inch height and fixed her with a stare. “Of course they are. We got rules about tellin’ folk’s business.”
She nodded and moved the paper toward him. He picked it up and read it aloud. “On good authority, Bass gang, old line shack five miles south of Groesbeck. Dyson.”
Chapter Seventeen
Texanna remained on pins and needles all afternoon. She expected Royce to ride up any minute, murder shooting from his eyes. Painting was the only thing to keep her mind off the war of words she knew would come. Garrett’s portrait was ready for framing. She’d stretched a canvas to do a self-portrait and quickly put a wash over it in preparation to begin. Lightly she sketched in the outline of hair, face, and torso standing by the railing of the front porch. The white of the porch against the blue of her dress would be a good contrast.
The confrontation didn’t arrive until the following day, when he came home for dinner. Texanna could tell by the set of Royce’s shoulders as he rode into the yard he was royally pissed. From the kitchen window, she watched as he brushed down Samson and put him in the pasture. Garrett hopped along beside him as he worked, and they both washed up before they came inside.
“Supper’s ready and on the table.” They had leftover biscuits, cold ham, deviled eggs, and canned peaches. Texanna poured both Royce and Garrett milk and a glass of water for herself.
Always the gentleman, Royce held her chair for her to be seated but didn’t touch or kiss her as he usually did. They held hands as he returned thanks and then silence closed in around them. Garrett, feeling the tension, for once was quiet and looked back and forth between them. Finally, he chirped, “Sure is a good supper, ain’t it, Pa?”
“Yes, it is, Son. Just perfect for a hot day.” He shot a glance at Texanna. “And a trying one.”
“Is…Ma in trouble again?” His little brow wrinkled with worry as he glanced at her with concern.
Royce cleared his throat. “You might say that.” A muscle in his jaw twitched.
Texanna reached for Garrett’s hand. “Don’t you worry about me. This is between me and your Pa. We’ll work it out. Finish your supper.”
Eyes serious, he turned to his father. “You’re not going to take a strap to her, are you, Pa?”
Royce choked on his food, coughed, and gasped for air. “Have…have…I ever taken a strap to you, Son?”
“No, sir, but I spect there’s a first time for everything.”
“I suspect your right. There may come a time when I have to use a strap on you, but your ma is not a child. I can’t whoop her to make her mind me, and I’d never hurt her.” He took a long drink of milk. Garrett visibly relaxed. “Now, finish your supper so you can get your chores done and get to bed.”
“Yes, sir, Pa.”
Royce finished his meal in silence. It infuriated him Texanna had the gall to act as if she’d done nothing wrong. She ate her meal without the slightest bit of nervousness. Dammit, she should be shaking in those rubber shoes.
He’d just locked up several prisoners for fighting in one of the saloons this afternoon when Sam Avert, the sheriff from Limestone County, came in. Filthy, covered with road dust, and looking worn to a frazzle, the big man dropped into a chair in his office. Royce poured him a cup of coffee.
“What brings you to Waco, Sam?” He poured himself a cup and rounded his desk to sit down.
“Why…on account of your telegram yesterday.”
“Telegram? What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t send you a message.”
Sam searched in his pocket and came up with a crumbled bit of paper. “Well, somebody sure as heck did. Read this.”
Royce took the paper and scanned it. Hell’s bells! What was he going to do with his foolish, interfering wife? If he had a lick of sense he’d lock her up and throw away the key. He crushed the note in his fist. “I didn’t send this, but I know who did, and I assure you they’ll pay for mixing in my business.”
“Is that right? Well, whatda ya know?” He scratched his chin.
“I hope you didn’t spend too much time on a wild goose chase.”
“Now, wouldn’t exactly call it that. Sam and his boys were right where that telegram said, but they was watchin’ for us and got away. Wounded one of my deputies pretty bad, but he’ll live.”
Royce was stunned. How could Texanna have known? He’d read that book and seen nothing about the Bass gang being in Limestone County. If she’d known this, why hadn’t she told him instead of involving someone else?
“I’m sorry to hear that. Who was hurt?”
“That new kid you met last time you were in town—Tom Sayers. He’s a strong young fella, won’t have any trouble mending.”
“You know if I’d sent the telegram, I’d have been on my way to help out.”
“Yeah, thought about that after all was said and done. Jumped the gun on my part and got the boy hurt.”
“It wasn’t your fault, but I know who’s to blame, and I assure you they’ll suffer the consequences.”
Royce drank his coffee on the front porch while Texanna cleaned up the kitchen. He could hear Garrett fussing about having to take a bath. The boy acted like he hated the new tub, but after being wrestled into it, he laughed and splashed around like a catfish tying to get off the
hook. It took Royce ten minutes to get all the water off the floor.
The screen door squeaked, and he glanced up to see Garrett standing barefoot and in his white night shirt. “Night, Pa.”
“Goodnight, Son.” He let the screen slam, turned, and ran up the stairs. The bed in his room shook and hit the wall as Garrett landed in it and yelled, “Night, Ma.”
Texanna’s, “Night, Garrett,” carried on the breeze.
Royce sighed and stood. He might as well get this over with, and would just as soon face a rattlesnake as to go through this, but Texanna had to learn her place. He didn’t know what it was like in the future, but here in 1880, women didn’t interfere in a man’s job or disobey when given a reasonable order. It must be total mayhem in her era.
Texanna wasn’t as calm as she wanted Royce to believe. And she wouldn’t put it past him to try to spank her. She’d heard how men used to punish their wives, but if he thought he’d smack her on the butt he had another thought coming. Just let him try.
Back ramrod straight, she walked with Royce to the barn. The location of their little talk was another bad sign. At least he wasn’t taking her to the woodpile. Isn’t that where whippings used to take place? The lantern he carried cast a light glow around them. Moths and other insects gravitated to the light, and she batted at them with her hand.
Inside the barn, he hung the lantern on a pole and motioned her to a bale of hay.
“Thanks, but I’ll stand.”
Murder written on his face, hands fisted, he barked. “I said sit down, dammit. Do you have to defy everything I say or tell you to do?”
She plopped down on the hay and folded her hands in her lap. “You are not my boss, Royce Dyson. I’m your wife, not your personal servant.”
My Heart Will Find Yours Page 19
