The captain nodded. “Everyone says so.”
“Then the Cavalry will be pullin’ out of Texas, and the Rangers will have to hold off the Comanches alone.”
“I thought about that; ain’t lookin’ forward to it.” The captain smoked and stared off into the distance. “We’re stretched purty thin already. We could use some good men like you. Of course, you’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity you got back at the fort.”
“Wouldn’t I though?” Colt watched his men cleaning up the last fires, burying the dead warriors. “Well, I got to get back. The major and Olivia will be wonderin’ where I am.”
The captain extended a hand and they shook. “You ever change your mind, I’m in Austin. Otherwise, maybe we’ll meet again after the war we both know is comin’.”
“You’re a good man, Captain. I’m glad my troops were able to help.”
The two separated and Colt watched the Rangers mount up and ride out; then he called to his sergeant. “Sergeant, assemble the troops. Our job here is done. If we hurry, we might be back at the fort before noon.”
The sergeant saluted. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir. The men and the horses are both bone tired. I think they’d appreciate a slow ride back.”
Colt shrugged. There was no reason to rush, he had finally made his decision and he wasn’t going to change it now. “You’re right, Sergeant Clancy. If we’ve done whatever we can to assist the Schultzes, we’ll leave.”
He strode over to the campfire and poured himself another cup of coffee, watched the troopers helping the family gather up whatever was not burned or destroyed; then he walked over and shook the old man’s hand. “You sure you folks don’t want to move back to the fort for a while?”
The old man shook his head. “No, we’ll start rebuilding this morning. We’ll come to the fort with a wagon in the next couple of days for supplies and to pick up our son. We’ll build this ranch so he’ll have a future.”
“I understand.” Colt touched his fingers against the brim of his hat by way of farewell and walked to his horse. “Sergeant, mount the troops.”
The sergeant saluted. “Yes, sir.” He turned to the soldiers. “Prepare to mount. Mount.”
The Cavalry soldiers swung into their saddles and the patrol started away from the ranch. The sergeant was right, Colt thought as they turned back toward the fort. There was no reason to hurry; the horses and the men were tired. They’d get there a little before noon. As he rode, he thought about the decisions facing him and the two women who loved him. Then he smiled, knowing what he was going to do.
Colt led his weary Cavalry troop back through the fort gates a little before noon, dismounted, handed his horse over to a trooper, and went inside to report to the major.
“Sir, Lieutenant Prescott reporting in,” he saluted.
“At last, Colt. Sit down, have a drink and report.” The major grinned and poured two tumblers of whiskey. Colt took the drink and settled down in the opposite chair, slapping at the dust on his blue uniform. Quickly, he told about the fight with the Comanches.
“Good job.” The major grinned and lit his pipe.
Colt took a deep breath. “Sir, you know my enlistment was up at midnight last night.”
“I thought we had that settled. You’re going to reenlist and be promoted to captain. With a war coming—”
“Beggin’ your pardon, sir, I don’t think I am.”
“What? Saint Mary’s blood.” The major sat bolt upright. “But you’ve been in the army for years—”
“Yes, sir, but I know if a war starts, the Cavalry will be pullin’ out of Texas and the Rangers can’t handle the Comanches alone. They’ll be desperate for men.”
The major shook his gray head. “So you’d pass up all the promotions and better pay to stay here in Texas and fight Indians?”
“Texas will need me, sir, and I’m first and foremost a son of Texas.”
The major sighed and sipped his drink. “All right, I don’t like your decision, but I admire you for it. In the meantime, what is Olivia going to say? You know she doesn’t like Texas.”
Colt chewed his lip. “I’m going to go see her next. She’s a beautiful girl, sir. Any man would be proud and pleased to marry her, but I’m not sure we could make a go of it. Anyway, another woman has taken my heart.”
The major nodded knowingly. “You know, Colt, we’re more alike than you realize. I was in the same spot more than twenty years ago. I was a poor Irish immigrant lad, but a handsome one, driving a coal wagon to the De Ville family mansion. There was a beautiful daughter and she fell in love with me. I turned my back on a poor Irish lass and married the rich beauty and I’ve regretted it ever since.”
“Olivia’s mother?” Colt asked.
The other nodded. “Any man who marries money earns it.” He shrugged. “So we stay in different parts of the country. Unfortunately, my daughter is just like her mother, vain, spoiled, and shallow, but she’ll get by on her beauty.”
“I’m sorry I don’t want to marry her.” Colt leaned back in his chair.
“I don’t blame you,” the major sighed. “You’ve got more gumption than I had.” He leaned across the desk and offered his hand and the two shook. “Best of luck to you in the future. I’ll take care of the paperwork and you send me word where to send your last pay.”
Colt shook his hand and stood up, put down his glass. “Thank you, sir. And now I’ll go tell Olivia.”
“There’ll be a scene,” the major warned. “My daughter is used to getting what she wants.”
“But not this time,” Colt promised and went out.
First he walked to his quarters and changed into jeans, a denim shirt, and cowboy boots; then he walked to the barn and saddled up Rascal. Now the part he dreaded. He didn’t really want to hurt the girl, but he was following his heart, not his brain, with this decision.
He rode over and tied up Rascal at the hitching post, knocked on the door at the major’s quarters.
Olivia answered. “Oh, Colton.” She threw her arms around him. “I’ve been so worried about you.” Then she stepped back and stared. “Why are you out of uniform?”
Colt took a deep breath and looked down at her. “Olivia, I’ve decided not to reenlist. I’ve already talked to your father. He’ll do the necessary paperwork.”
She shook her head. “No, you can’t do this. Why, I’ve got our lives all planned out, the big wedding in Philadelphia, the posh post in Washington, the—”
“I’m sorry, Olivia. I’m not gonna marry you. I apologize for behavin’ like a cad, but I just don’t think we could make a marriage work. My plans and your plans don’t seem to mesh.”
Now her beautiful face went livid. “How dare you? You can’t just break our engagement like this, not when I had such plans for us—”
“I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, Olivia, but I’d like to make my own plans and mine include stayin’ in Texas. I couldn’t be happy anyplace else.”
“I’ll be the laughingstock of the fort—”
“Tell everyone you broke the engagement. I won’t dispute it.”
About that time, he heard a door open in the back and Olivia’s maid called, “Ma’am, I’m returned from the wedding, but—”
“Weddin’? What weddin’?” Colt asked.
Olivia smiled most evilly. “Oh, didn’t you know? Mrs. Brownley got married down by the river about noon and—”
Colt didn’t hear the rest. He turned and ran out the door, swung up on Rascal’s back, and took off at a gallop for the river. He could only hope he wasn’t too late. He intended to marry Hannah himself.
He galloped up to see a handful of people including a big fat farmer in an ill-fitting suit standing talking to what must be a preacher, judging from his somber black suit. Doc stood nearby, visiting with a trooper.
Colt reined in and dismounted, ran up to Doc. “Where is she? Did she get married?”
The farmer turned toward him, his face red and angry. “That slutty b
itch! She changed her mind, and here I was ready to overlook her sleepin’ with an Injun buck and take in her half-breed kid, too.”
Colt hit him then, knocking him backward into the dirt.
Doc grabbed his arm. “Easy there, Colt. Say, what happened to your uniform?”
“Never mind.” Colt shook his hand off, rubbing his knuckles. “I decided not to reenlist. Where’s Hannah?”
Doc grinned at him and shrugged. “You heard the man. She decided not to marry him, even though he has a big farm. She said the only man she’d ever love was marrying the major’s daughter, so she’s on her own and headed east to the nearest town.”
Colt looked around. “On foot?”
Doc nodded. “She’s a stubborn one, a real Texas gal. It’s about twenty miles, but she says she and Travis will walk all night if she has to.”
“Now just what the hell will she do there?” Colt griped.
“Oh, clean houses, work as a cook in a café, whatever she has to.” Doc winked at him. “If you hurry, you might catch up with her. She’s only been gone about fifteen minutes.”
Colt needed no more urging. He shook Doc’s hand. “Good-bye, Doc. Maybe we’ll meet again sometime. I’m aimin’ to get a little ranch, maybe join the Rangers.”
“Quit jawing and get riding,” Doc said.
Nodding, Colt swung up in the saddle; then he turned and headed for the road that led away from the fort. After riding about ten minutes, he saw a woman’s figure walking ahead of him. She was tall and slender, and her yellow hair shone in the sun. She carried her head high and proud, and she walked with a stubborn stride. In one hand she carried a small bundle. With the other, she held onto the hand of a small, dark boy, and he in turn, carried a small wooden horse dangling from chubby fingers.
Colt’s heart swelled and his eyes misted. Hannah’s life had not been easy, but her spirit would never be broken because she had courage and grit like every Texas girl.
He rode up beside her. “Where do you think you’re goin’?”
She glanced up at him and kept walking, straight and proud. “If it’s any of your business, Lieutenant, I’m going to the next town and see if I can find a job.”
He kept riding next to her. “You passed up a good offer back there. I understand that farmer has a big place, plenty of money.”
“I didn’t love him so it wouldn’t be fair to him. Besides I had a feeling he wouldn’t be good to Travis.”
He dismounted and walked alongside her, leading Rascal. “You and Travis can’t walk twenty miles to the next town.”
“I’m a Texas girl, born and bred. Just watch me.”
“Damn it, will you stop walkin’?” He confronted her and for the first time, she seemed to notice he was dressed like an ordinary cowboy.
“What—?”
“I didn’t reenlist.” He shrugged. “I’ve got some money saved so I thought I’d buy a little spread of my own, and then if war comes, I’ll join the Rangers. They’re gonna need all the help they can get.”
“Congratulations, but I don’t think the major’s daughter will like ranching.”
“I don’t give a damn what she likes.” Colt leaned over and picked up Travis.
The little boy hugged his neck with glee. “Colt,” he laughed. “Colt.”
Colt kissed the child on the forehead and put him on Rascal’s back, then turned to Hannah. “At least let me give you a ride to the next town.”
She frowned. “We don’t need your help. Your fiancée isn’t going to be happy to find you out here.”
“Hannah, I told you I broke up with Olivia. She wouldn’t accept it, but this time she’ll have to because I’m in love with somebody else.”
Her pale blue eyes grew wide. “You’re turning your back on an easy life.”
He shrugged. “You just did the same thing. Would you settle for a small ranch with a Texan who hasn’t got much to offer?”
For a moment, it appeared she could not speak. “Are you asking me—?”
“I’m not good at this, because I never did it before, but I want to marry you and look after you and Travis. There’s bound to be a preacher in the next town. What do you say?”
She looked up at him and she couldn’t help it, the tears began to build. She had not let herself be vulnerable in all these years, but she loved this man so.
“Did I make you unhappy?” His tanned face grew anxious. “Hannah, I love you, I wouldn’t do anything to make you cry.”
“You just did,” she sobbed and, abruptly, he held out his arms. She went into them and he held her tightly and kissed her hair while she wept against his broad shoulder. All these years and now she had finally found a man she could depend on, who would always love and defend her and she let herself be vulnerable. Slipping her arms around his neck, she held him tightly as she unleashed a flood of tears.
She heard Travis say. “Why is Mama crying?”
And Colt said gently. “I reckon she’s happy, Travis. Women are funny that way. You want to be my son from now on?”
“Yes, daddy Colt.”
Hannah pulled away from Colt and looked up at him through a blur of tears. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Damned sure!” And he pulled her to him again and kissed her like she had never been kissed before, his mouth warm and possessive on hers, his big frame protecting her from anything that might ever harm her. She was no longer on her own, a slender woman fighting the whole world. She now had a protector and a partner, and his embrace held all the promises of a warm, wonderful life ahead.
Colt lifted her up on Rascal’s back. “Honey, I’ll buy us another horse at the next ranch we pass and once we get to town, we’ll get married. I aim to buy a nice spread somewhere.”
“In Texas?” she asked, smiling down at him as they started off with Rascal plodding along.
“Of course in Texas.” He winked up at her as he led Rascal down the road. “We’re Texans and always will be! Isn’t that true, Travis?” He looked back at his new son.
“True,” lisped the little boy, who grinned, holding tightly to his mother and the precious toy horse as the trio crossed over the ridge and into the bright future ahead.
Fans of Western historical romances won’t want to miss any books in Georgina Gentry’s exciting new series, THE TEXANS. Read on for samples of:
DIABLO
and
RIO,
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DIABLO
On a northbound train to Wyoming, early April 1892
Diablo paused between the swaying cars, looking through the door to see who was inside before he entered. No gunfighter worth his bullets would enter an area without checking out the lay of the land, especially since this car was full of Texas gunfighters, all hired killers like himself.
He had come a long way since Trace Durango had found him fifteen years ago when he was a Santee slave known as He Not Worthy of a Name. Well, he had earned a name now, and when men heard it, they turned pale and backed down from the big, half-breed gunfighter with the scarred face. He dressed all in black, from his Stetson down to his soft, knee-high moccasins. The superstitious peasants along the Rio Grande had given him the name: Diablo, the devil. It suited him just fine.
Now finally he was headed north to take care of unfinished business. He had waited a long, long time for this, and all these years he had been planning and perfecting his aim. Though the Wyoming Stock Growers Association was paying exorbitant money to bring this trainload of killers north, the money did not interest Diablo. What interested him was vengeance, and now, finally, he would have it. He was no longer the small and weak half-breed slave. No, now he had a name and was respected and feared throughout the West. Diablo had gained a reputation as a fast, deadly gunman.
Trace Durango had done well in teaching him to use a Colt, and he had used it time and time again in range wars and saloon showdowns. His gun was for hire, and he had fought side by side with men like Billy the Kid. Billy had
been dead more than ten years now. Many of the others were dead too, before they reached middle age. In the end, that would probably be his fate, but for now, all that mattered was finishing his business with four men. His biggest fear was that they might now be dead and no longer able to face a showdown.
Diablo swung open the door and stood there watching the others inside. The shades had been ordered drawn, and the light in the swaying car was dim. Most of the men turned to stare at him, unsmiling, cigar smoke swirling above their heads. They did not nod a welcome, and he had expected none. These were hired pistoleros like himself, Texas gunfighters, on a special train to Wyoming where a range war was about to start. An hombre named Frank Canton had come down to hire twenty-five of the best, offering great pay and bonuses for every rustler and nester killed.
The train swayed, and the tracks made a rhythmic click-clack as conversation in the car ceased. All the men were looking at him, but he stared only at the men in the first row of seats. Diablo liked to have his back against the wall. The two men withered under his frown and hurriedly got up and retreated down the car. Diablo took the space they had vacated as if it were his right.
“Who in the hell is that half-breed?” The growling voice drifted toward him.
“Shh! Be quiet, Buck; that’s Diablo. You don’t want to make him mad.”
“The Diablo?” Now he sounded impressed.
“There’s only one,” said the other.
“He don’t look like so much.”
“You challenge him, you’ll find out.”
“Maybe I’ll just do that when we hit Wyoming.”
Diablo sighed, pulled his black Stetson down over his eyes, and leaned back against the scarlet horsehair cushions, then opened the shade, stared out the window at the passing landscape. Quickly he averted his eyes, not wanting to see the reflection of his scarred face, and closed the shade again.
He probably didn’t look like much to the others, who sported noisy, big spurs, fancy silver conchos and pistols, and boots of the best leathers in bright colors. Diablo dressed in the color of the night, and he wore moccasins, the better to move silently against an enemy without them knowing he was coming. Silver conchos and pistols had a way of reflecting light that an enemy could see for a long way. He not only moved silently, but his appearance was as black as a thunderstorm, with no bit of reflected light to give him away.
Colt Page 27
