Summer Moon

by Jill Marie Landis

  “I never spared the rod, that’s for certain,” Gideon added.

  Charm, uncomfortable joining them in the first place, was there at Kate’s insistence. She made an abrupt excuse to go back to the kitchen, and Kate enviously watched her leave.

  Mother Superior had always been stern but fair. As far as sparing the rod, the only physical punishment any student endured was a slap on the hands with a wooden stick.

  Kate had the distinct feeling the Greenes’ form of discipline went far beyond hand-slapping. She glanced over at Daniel, who fidgeted uncomfortably at a side table, swinging his legs back and forth beneath the chair.

  He had eaten a piece of cake with his hands. There were crumbs on the table, his lap, and the floor, not to mention a smear of white frosting down the front of his silk shirt.

  Kate smiled at him reassuringly, but if he noticed, he did not let on as he watched the Greenes through slitted eyes.

  Winifred helped herself to more coffee. “Did we mention we came to Texas in ’thirty-six?”

  “Three times.” Kate smiled politely and took another sip.

  “We knew the Parkers. Elder John Parker and his family. They were from Illinois, too. Baptists.”

  “She might not have heard of them, Ma, if she’s not from around here.” Gideon’s head jutted out on his neck like a strutting hen.

  “Actually, I’m from Ma—”

  “Everybody’s heard of the Parkers,” Winifred said. “Their fort down on the Navasota River was raided in the spring of ’thirty-six. Some of the men were killed, two of the women and three children were carried off by the Comanches. Those poor women were beaten and raped time and time again. Why, Rachel Parker—she married into the Plummers, you know—she lived long enough to be rescued and tell the tale. Saw her babe strangled and dragged behind a horse. I tell you, the very devil rides the plains in the guise of those heathens.” Slowly, Winifred looked over at Daniel.

  Gideon turned his way, too. “There’s evil in that boy’s eyes. I can see it. Can’t you, Ma?”

  “I do, Pa. The devil will be hard to drive out of him, that’s for certain, but with God’s help it will be done.”

  Gideon carefully set his cup and saucer down and nodded to Kate as he stood. “Thank you for the coffee, ma’am. But if it’s all the same to you, we’d best be going. We’ve a long way to go.”

  “Maybe I can help you get the boy’s things together?” Winifred followed suit, putting aside her own cup and saucer.

  Kate, still thinking about poor Rachel Plummer and the devil being beaten out of Daniel, nearly dropped her cup before she set it beside the china coffeepot and delicate cake plates piled on a tray. “His things?” Kate found Winifred waiting for a response.

  “We’ll be taking him back to our place, of course.” Winifred turned to Gideon, who nodded in agreement.

  “That’s right. The sooner the better,” he said.

  Kate quickly grasped at the only straw available. “I can’t let Daniel leave without Reed’s permission.”

  “If Reed Benton cared about that boy, he would be here now, wouldn’t he? If he’d been with Becky that night, if he had protected his family, our girl would still be alive, wouldn’t she?” There was no sorrow or loss in Winifred’s tone, only condemnation.

  “He’s still Daniel’s father,” Kate said. She had no idea if the Greenes knew anything of their daughter’s professed adultery with Reed Senior.

  Gideon grew red around the collar. “We know Reed’s off in the Frontier Forces, or whatever the Yankee government is calling our Rangers this year. If he cared about the boy, he’d be here,” he said.

  “Besides, this isn’t any of your concern at all, is it? You’re only the housekeeper here.” Winifred looked down her nose at Kate.

  Kate’s mind was racing. She saw herself having to barricade the door to keep the Greenes from taking Daniel and knew she would do it if forced. As if he sensed her fear, Daniel slowly edged off the chair, balanced on his good leg, and adjusted his crutch. Then he skirted the settee, slowly making his way toward her. His eyes were huge pools of worry. The crutch thumped along beside him.

  He had suffered enough in his young life. Far too much to have to bear adjusting to yet another home. Far too much to have to face life with people as stern as the Greenes.

  “I’m afraid you are mistaken about my position here.” Kate drew herself up, refusing to give in to them. “I am not just a housekeeper. I’m Reed Benton’s wife.”

  Winifred and Gideon couldn’t have been more shocked if Kate had shot a gun off in the room.

  “What do you mean, you’re Reed’s wife?”

  Only Scrappy and Charm, and perhaps by now, Reed’s lawyer, knew about Reed Senior’s duplicity, which still would not help, for they all knew the marriage was a sham. She needed someone these people would believe.

  “Ask Reverend Preston Marshall in Lone Star.” She prayed they would do no such thing, not until she could speak to the man herself.

  “Lone Star is a hellhole. A cow town where liquor runs in the streets and fornication spreads the devil’s pox.” Gideon shook his finger at the ceiling.

  Winifred sniffed and crossed her arms beneath her bosom. “I say we take the boy now. If Reed wants him, then he can come and get him. He knows where we live.”

  Before Kate could say a word, Gideon grabbed Daniel’s arm as the boy limped by.

  The crutch clattered to the floor, knocking a milk glass plate off a side table. The piece shattered with a resounding crash.

  At the same time, Daniel let out a bloodcurdling yell a second before he sank his teeth into Gideon Greene’s wrist. The man howled in pain, raised his free arm, and smacked Daniel away as if the boy were a vicious dog.

  Daniel hit the floor and pitifully began to scoot toward Kate’s skirt, dragging his injured leg. She nearly stepped on him in her attempt to shield him.

  “Oh, Pa! You’re bleedin’ like a stuck pig!” Winifred cried, rushing to her husband’s side.

  The front door banged open. Spurs chimed as Scrappy rushed into the room brandishing a pistol.

  He had no sooner barged in than Charm burst in from the hallway wielding the heavy wooden beetle she used to pound meat. Daniel grabbed hold of a chair to help himself to his feet. Half hidden behind Kate, he clung to her skirt, trembling.

  “I would thank you both to leave. Now.” Kate spoke with as much dignity and confidence as she could muster. “I refuse to let you take Daniel anywhere until I have a chance to speak to Reed. Scrappy will see you to your buggy.”

  Thankfully, the Greenes did not care to argue with an armed man. “Don’t think we won’t be back.” Winifred Greene had not budged, although Gideon had already started for the door with his hand pressed to his bleeding wrist.

  “Come on, Ma.” The white cuff of Gideon’s shirt-sleeve was tainted with a widening bloodstain. As he passed by, he glared at Daniel. “We had best get home and pray on this. He’s not only turned Comanche, he’s Becky’s boy. Maybe he’s as rock-headed as she was, bless her soul. Maybe he’s already too far gone to save.”

  Shaken, Kate felt her lips tremble when she smiled her thanks to Scrappy. The old cowhand acknowledged her with a nod and followed the Greenes out the front door.

  Charm rushed to Kate’s side and set the heavy beetle down on the settee. With her hands on her thighs, she bent over and peered around Kate at Daniel.

  “You can come out now, Danny-boy. Come on.” She offered her hand and tried to coax him out, but Daniel did not move an inch.

  To Kate’s amazement he looked into her eyes and then after a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed her hand.

  “Well then,” she said softly, her heart swelling. She tried to keep her tone even, tried not to let on that she was greatly moved and make him shy away.

  She helped him balance as she handed him the crutch that Charm had retrieved.

  “He’s taken a shine to anything with sugar in it,” Charm whispered to Kate. “Bring
him in the kitchen, and I’ll give him some more cake. He’ll forget all this ruckus in a minute or two.”

  Far from relieved, Kate walked with Daniel as they followed Charm into the kitchen, where she helped him sit at the table. Then Kate hurried back to the front door and walked out onto the veranda. She refused to let the Greenes leave thinking they had intimidated her.

  They definitely saw her standing there in the shade of the veranda as Gideon turned the buggy around in the yard and headed down the lane.

  Scrappy, as spry as she had ever seen him, with his pistol tucked in his waistband and a broad smile of accomplishment on his face, climbed the steps to stand beside her. Shoulder-to-shoulder, they watched the buggy bounce down the road in a cloud of dust. Out on the far horizon, buzzards circled in the hot dry air.

  “Reed should ought to be here,” Scrappy grumbled. “You shouldn’t ought to have to be the one defendin’ his boy.”

  As the buggy grew smaller on the horizon, Kate let go a sigh of relief and then smiled.

  “I wasn’t exactly alone, was I? I knew they were going nowhere with him when you rushed in waving that gun, and I truly feared for their lives when Charm came charging in holding that beetle over her head. It’s heavier than she is.”

  The old cowhand chortled. “I guess we gave ’em somethin’ to chew on.”

  “We sure did, didn’t we? Thank you for your help, Mr. Parks.”

  The confrontation had only been a skirmish. Kate intended to win the war. She had given them plenty to think about, telling them she was Reed’s wife. If the Greenes wanted Daniel, they would be back, and unfortunately, they might even go to Preston Marshall.

  “You know where Reed is, don’t you, Scrappy?”

  “You want me to go after him? Tell him we got an emergency here?”

  Lord, she was tempted to call him home. Tempted to see him again, too. But Reed had left her in charge of his house and his son. It was up to her to face the challenge and manage on her own.

  “No. I want you to go into town. Can you get to town before the Greenes?”

  He nodded. “Hell, yes.”

  “Then ride into Lone Star and invite Reverend Marshall to dinner.”

  “The preacher?”

  “Yes. And do whatever it takes to convince him to come back with you.”

  Scrappy scratched beneath his hat. “The preacher.”

  “Please.”

  She watched him sigh and shake his head, but he didn’t argue. He quickly left her standing alone in the shade of the wide veranda. Out in the distance, the vultures had disappeared. The sky was clear and blue, the breeze soft, warm, and even.

  She had to talk to Preston Marshall in case the Greenes sought confirmation of her and Reed’s marriage. Somehow, she had to enlist the minister’s help, which meant that she would have to think of a way to convince a man of God to bend the truth.

  25

  Frontier Forces, Texas Rangers. Company J. Summer Camp on the Brazos River.

  It was early morning and already far too hot when Reed walked through camp in no mood to talk to anyone. A week ago Jonah moved them all farther up the Brazos, strategically placing scouts along the river in hopes of intercepting raiding parties forced to stop for water on their way across the prairie. Last night they had recovered over fifty stolen horses and pushed the renegade warriors back with no casualties on their side.

  Reed rubbed his hand over his eyes, ducked through the opening of his tent, seeking relief from the sun. In the shadowed interior, he sat on the edge of his cot, rested his arms on his knees, and stared down at his dust-coated boots. His silver spurs from Chihuahua caught the sunlight that oozed between the edges of the opening.

  He had tried for weeks to forget about Kate Whittington, but she haunted his thoughts day and night. His shoulder ached, he was short-tempered and testy, and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to do a damn thing about it. It was easiest to blame Kate for his being out of sorts and downright discontented: Not only was he haunted by bits and pieces of memory of the night they had spent together, but he kept wondering how he would have felt about her if he had met her in some way other than through his father’s scheme.

  On his way back to camp, he had stopped in Lone Star to leave Jeb Cooley a letter of explanation instructing the lawyer to clear up the legal ramifications of the forged proxy papers and ask Jeb to contact him when he returned from Europe. So far he hadn’t heard from the man.

  While he was in town, he had left credit for Kate at Lone Star Mercantile and Dry Goods; then, as he was walking out of the store, the image of her face had unexpectedly come to him. He remembered the troubled way her dark trusting eyes had looked the morning he had ridden away, the way she had stood there at the veranda rail and waved good-bye. As time passed, he found himself feeling more and more like an ass for the way he had treated her and Daniel.

  He had brought her letters with him, worn them around the edges by reading them so many times that he had memorized almost all of them. Reading about her life and her dreams and expectations in her own words kept him dwelling on her and the unsettled situation at the ranch, which did nothing to improve his disposition. He never took himself for a man who would walk out on responsibility, and it didn’t sit well with him now.

  He heard riders coming, stretched, and left the tent. Across the campground, two new recruits dismounted and then hobbled and sidelined their mounts. Laughing and talking, they crossed the campground. It was hard to miss the excitement and pride on their faces, not to mention the relief. They had just completed their first real duty, put their eager young lives on the line for forty dollars a month.

  Reed couldn’t remember ever being that young or dedicated to the Ranger cause. He had joined up to seek revenge and to give his intense anger and betrayal a place to spend itself. Back then, being a Ranger had given him a reason to go on living—and, if he chose, a way to die.

  He crossed the campground and joined Jonah, who was waiting for the new men near the picket rope.

  “Find anything, gentlemen?” Jonah asked them.

  Tommy Harlan bobbed his head. “Thought we saw a Comanch’ with a lame pony up near the bend in the river, but it turned out to be a Mexican trader.”

  “Damn near blew his head off ’fore we realized our mistake,” the shorter one said with a chuckle. “Other than that, nothing.”

  “I think there’s still some beans and bacon left from breakfast if you want it.” Jonah watched them walk away and then turned to Reed. “Your shoulder been bothering you? You don’t seem yourself lately.”

  “It’s not my shoulder. It’s my mind.”

  Jonah smiled and shrugged. “That’s never been right to begin with.”

  Reed gave a short laugh but quickly sobered. Since his return he had slowly begun to realize that his passion and intensity for the job were waning. Maybe it was because he had compared his own ebbing enthusiasm with the company’s five new recruits. Their zealous dedication to the cause was boundless.

  “Anything you want to talk about?” Jonah asked seriously.

  “It’s a lot of things,” Reed said. “My shoulder for one. The damn thing still hurts.” The pain had gone on for longer than he had expected. The fever and his time at Lone Star had taken him back to places in his mind where he had not been in years. “Finding Daniel’s brought a lot of things home to me. I keep thinking about what could have happened to him the day of the raid when we took that camp. He could have been killed. Hell, I might have shot him myself. I find myself wondering what we’re doing out here.”

  “We’re fighting for Texas and for the hundreds of settlers who have been murdered. For the frontier folks that come to us because the government has turned its back on them. Washington could take care of the Comanche if it wasn’t for all the softhearted do-gooders back East. What do they know about what’s going on out here? They’re sitting back there reading books about noble savages and whitewashed newspaper accounts. Nobody would dare print what real
ly happens out here.

  “I would think that what Daniel’s become would make you want to fight even harder, but I get the feeling that’s not the way you see it.” Jonah shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffed his toe against the knob of an exposed root on the ground.

  Reed said, “Somebody took care of him all these years. Kept him safe. He’d rather be with them than me, that’s for sure. It makes me wonder why both sides are so hell-bent on killing each other.”

  He didn’t know how Jonah could understand the direction of his thoughts when he didn’t understand himself lately. The Comanche were different in many, many ways, but were the differences so great that they should have to die? Was there no way to have a lasting peace?

  “Maybe it’s time you went home,” Jonah suggested. “I don’t want you out in the field if you don’t know why you’re here.”

  “Are you telling me I can’t do my job?”

  “Not at all. I think that’s what you’re telling me.” Before Reed could comment, the captain walked away.

  It was Jonah’s way to give a man time to think. Reed leaned back against the trunk of a pecan tree. Somewhere off in the distance a turkey gobbled to its mate. Game was plentiful in the field where the hills and valleys teemed with wild turkey, antelope, and deer. Thousands of buffalo roamed the open plains. Rainbows of wildflowers bloomed all spring and summer, one kind after another, changing the color of the plains like the cloud shadows that brushed across the land. Plenty and beauty were everywhere, but the abundance and magnificence of the land was deceiving.

  It was the time of the soft summer moon again.

  He had no sooner settled himself beside the central fire and poured a cup of lukewarm coffee than a call came from one of the armed guards on the south end of the camp. More scouts were coming in, shouting, agitated, riding hard.

  Another band of renegades had been sighted.

  Reed swallowed half the cup of lousy brew that had no doubt been sitting since before dawn; then he chucked the rest. Within seconds the dark coffee was no more than a stain on the thirsty soil. Reed set the tin cup on a rock near the fire ring and went to collect his rifle and ammunition.