The entourage they brought along was impressive—sturdy freight wagons in excellent repair, each wagon pulled by a team of several oxen, some by mules. Three men rode on each wagon, one to drive, the other two riding shotgun to protect their goods against Indians and outlaws, except that for now the wagons were empty. With the men who herded the remuda, as well as two men who handled the cook wagon, the company consisted of thirty-six men, ten freight wagons, the cook wagon, and nearly a hundred animals.
The two men apparently in charge headed into the fort, stopping a lieutenant to ask where they might find the commanding officer.
“That would be Captain Howell,” the soldier answered. “I’m Lieutenant Brown. What do you want to see the Captain about?”
“Has there been a Wade Morrow through here?” the tall one answered. “I’m Bill Morrow and this is my brother Henry. Wade Morrow is our brother.”
Brown’s eyebrows arched. He noticed immediately that the men, obviously carrying no Indian blood, called Wade Morrow brother, not half brother or step brother. He glanced over at the impressive display of freight wagons, where strong, rugged-looking men milled about, sporting pistols and rifles. He looked back at Bill and Henry Morrow.
“You mean, this Wade Morrow really is rich? I mean, you two the sons of a Lester Morrow? Is that part of his freighting company?”
“Our pa is Lester Morrow,” Henry answered. “We’re on our way to pick up some goods in Galveston. We’ve never taken the line this far east before. Wade set it up with a Bill Strong back in San Antonio. We’ll probably be coming through here a lot on our way to and from Galveston. We’re based in San Diego.”
“Part of the reason we want to talk to your captain is to talk about supplying the army forts here in west Texas,” Bill put in. “But right now we’re mainly concerned about Wade. You talk like you’ve seen him. He all right?”
Brown swallowed. “I think you’d better talk to Captain Howell about that. I’ll take you over.”
Bill looked at Henry, seeing equal curiosity and worry in his brother’s eyes. They followed Brown to the captain’s quarters, both noticing a strange look on Howell’s face when the lieutenant introduced them. Howell immediately appeared to be nervous. “Well, what can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked.
“You can tell us where we might be able to find our brother, Wade Morrow. We’re a little worried about him, and so are our folks. He came out here to set up a business deal for our pa, then was supposed to come this way and find some of the Comanche who might be left in these parts. Wade is half Comanche. Our folks found him abandoned as a little baby and raised him.”
Howell cleared his throat. “I, uh, I saw your freight wagons out my window. That’s quite a setup. Your, uh, your father does well then, I take it.”
“He owns the biggest freighting business in the Southwest,” Bill answered. “We wanted to talk to you about supplying Fort Stockton through a government contract. We already supply several forts in Arizona and New Mexico.” He frowned. “You and the lieutenant both seemed surprised to learn about our pa’s freighting business. Or is it that you’re more surprised that Wade Morrow was telling you the truth that he owns a share of the business?” He was beginning to bristle. “I suppose you didn’t believe him because he’s Indian.”
“Where’s our brother, Captain Howell?” Henry asked.
Howell sighed, sitting down in a chair behind his desk and indicating for Bill and Henry to take seats in chairs across from him. He surmised the two young men couldn’t be over twenty-five, yet they seemed able and sure. If their father had put them in charge of such a big enterprise as what he had seen outside, the man must trust these young men to do the job right. Both men had a rugged, experienced look about them, and Howell guessed they could not be easily fooled.
“You men didn’t get a telegram somewhere along the line?” Howell asked.
Bill shifted in his chair. “No. Were we supposed to?”
Howell cleared his throat. “Well, I thought someone wired your father in San Diego to, uh, to be sure to get hold of you and be sure you stopped here on your way to Galveston. There has been a lot of Indian trouble. Maybe the message didn’t get through.”
“What message?” Henry demanded.
Howell rubbed his eyes. “It’s a rather long story, gentlemen,” he told them. “Your brother was through here. His horse broke a leg and he had to shoot it. He hitched a ride on the San Antonio—San Diego stage line intending to come here and purchase another horse. The stage was attacked by Comanche renegades. They killed every last passenger and the drivers, but Wade Morrow and a young white woman were spared. The woman was badly hurt and Morrow took a bullet out of her leg and nursed her other wounds, which were several. He saved her life. She was coming here to marry a Sergeant Enders when the accident happened. Once your brother arrived here, we all understood why he had been spared—why the renegades ran like they had seen a ghost when they saw him after attacking the coach.”
The captain ran a hand through his hair, his nervousness evident. “I’ve seen the leader of the renegades—a half-breed called Wild Horse. Wade Morrow is his spitting image. Morrow bought a horse and left here to find the man, figuring he must be a brother.”
The captain went on to tell the story, while Bill and Henry listened curiously, a growing anger showing in their eyes.
“You had no right having Wade followed,” Bill told the man. “And Wade would never deliberately lead your men into a trap. He wouldn’t have had anything to do with that. Maybe this Wild Horse was following him!”
“Well, now that I see the kind of background from which the man comes, I have to agree he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would do such a thing. But the man is part Comanche. You have to understand what that means out here. If you knew some of the things the Comanche have done, you’d hate them as much as most Texans and most soldiers do.”
“So, you didn’t believe him and you judged him just because of how he looks,” Bill said with a slight sneer. “Wade’s a good man, Captain, as civil as the next, educated, generous, and smart. You just left him there with this Wild Horse then, knowing he could have been a captive, knowing Wild Horse likely wants him dead?” The man rose, leaning over the captain’s desk. “We know about the Comanche, Captain. We haven’t had a lot of experience with them, but in our business you stay on top of these things. We know the kinds of awful torture they can put a man through. Our brother could be dead.”
“That was his decision. He didn’t have to go back to them,” the captain answered defensively.
“Why did he come back here after he left the reservation?” Henry asked. “You said you had him followed by Apache scouts. They tracked him here and then out toward Comanche Hills, where your soldiers were attacked. I know damn well he didn’t come back here just to lead soldiers into a trap. He had some other reason for coming back here. You’re leaving something out, Captain, and you haven’t told us what the telegram we were supposed to get was all about.”
Bill stepped back and began rolling a cigarette. “Why don’t you tell us the whole story?”
Howell swallowed again, realizing that Lester Morrow could quite possibly have enough pull with the army to foil Howell’s own attempts at promotion. Howell had already had trouble with deserters, let alone the massacre of so many men after he had led them straight into a trap. Morrow supplied several army posts and must have connections in Washington. He rubbed his temple, feeling a headache coming and longing for a drink.
“Your brother came back to see Miss Andrews. That’s the young woman on the coach whose life he saved. They apparently…well, they didn’t let on to us, but Miss Andrews finally admitted to me that she and your brother had fallen in love. She had decided she was not going to marry Sergeant Enders. But it wouldn’t have mattered. He was killed in the Comanche attack.”
Henry looked at his brother, then back to the captain. “You said the injured woman on the stage was white.”
“Yes,” Howell answered.
Henry and Bill looked at each other again, both grinning a little. “It’s about time Wade found himself another woman,” Henry said. His grin faded. “It’s just too bad Wade had this trouble with Wild Horse. You think he’s still alive?”
Bill sighed. “I don’t know, but we’re damn well going to find out.” He looked at the captain while he lit the cigarette he had rolled. “Where is Miss Andrews?” he asked after taking a drag. “We’d like to meet her.”
Howell seemed to pale slightly. “Well, uh, she’s the one who sent the telegram. It seems your brother wanted you to pick her up on your way to Galveston and take her back to San Diego with you, in case he didn’t make it back from Wild Horse’s camp. You apparently never got the message.”
Bill watched him carefully, keeping the cigarette between his lips. “Apparently not,” he said with a hint of sarcasm. “Well, at least we’re here and can still take her with us.”
Howell reddened slightly. “Yes. Well, uh, she…she isn’t here.”
“Where is she?” Henry asked.
Howell straightened. “Look, there is something you both have to understand—”
Someone knocked on the door, and Howell looked up irritably as a second lieutenant stepped inside with a staff sergeant. “Sir? Sergeant Steen here says he still has the message for the Morrow brothers, the one she sent them before she left. Maybe they’d like to take a look at it.”
Bill turned and rose, reaching out to take the telegram, scowling even more as he read it. He turned to Howell, removing the cigarette from his mouth. “Where did Miss Andrews go? And why did she leave at all after sending this telegram? Why didn’t she wait for us?” He handed the telegram over to Henry while the lieutenant left and closed the door. “What the hell is going on?” Bill nearly growled. “According to that message, Miss Andrews said she would be waiting here at the fort for us—that Wade wanted her to go with us if something happened to him. Why isn’t she here!”
Howell gripped the arms of his chair. “Look, Morrow, I have a responsibility to this fort and my men—a responsibility to keep things in order! Ever since your brother came through here, I’ve had nothing but trouble. Do you know how men in these parts look upon a white woman who consorts with an Indian, let alone a Comanche? Miss Andrews might have been a perfectly proper young lady, but not in the eyes of men in west Texas!”
“Just say it out, Howell,” Henry said. “What happened to Miss Andrews? If this message is true, Wade would have wanted us to look after her.”
Howell rose. “I sent her away.”
“What!” Bill, who was still standing, threw down his cigarette and stepped on the stub. “What the hell for? Didn’t she tell you she wanted to wait here until we showed up?”
“I did it for her own good,” Howell answered, raising his voice slightly. “One of my men attacked her. She managed to fight him off. In fact, she threw a pot of boiling water on him. He’s lying in his quarters right now in grievous pain, close to death.”
“Grievous pain? What about Miss Andrews?”
“She got hurt also—burned her hands. But I knew it was dangerous for her to stay here because of the label my men had put on her. I had every right to send her away. It was for her own protection. I can’t watch every man every second of the day, Mr. Morrow!”
“You could have given some kind of order that any man who brings her harm will pay with a lashing and extra duty,” Bill answered. “Where did you send her?”
Howell seemed to pale even more. “She boarded a stage to El Paso, but I have received word that for some reason she got off at the next home station to wait for a stage going to San Antonio.”
“She probably figured she’d find us easier in San Antonio,” Henry put in. “She still at the home station? We’ll send some men back to get her.”
Howell sighed deeply. “I’m afraid some renegades came and took her away—some of Wild Horse’s men.”
The room hung silent for a moment. “Just…took her away, huh,” Bill finally spoke up. “Nobody knows why? Nobody tried to stop them?”
“There is just one man running the station, and he has a Comanche wife. The man wouldn’t last two minutes if he tried to argue with renegades who come through there. Why should he die for one white woman he doesn’t even know?”
Bill’s face darkened with rage, and he trembled to stay in control. “Yes. Why should he? Of course Wade was ready to die for her when that stage was attacked! Maybe that tells you a little bit about the kind of man our brother is. And what about you? You aren’t going to send out a detail to try to find the poor woman, or Wade?”
Howell’s cheeks colored. “To begin with, it isn’t my fault Miss Andrews was foolish enough to get off that stage; and I only learned a short time ago through a message from the home station what happened. Be that as it may, I simply don’t have enough men to go gallivanting all over west Texas trying to find two people who are probably already dead!”
“You’re a coward—and in your mind an Indian man and a white ‘squaw’ aren’t worth losing lives over, isn’t that it, Howell?” Bill raged. “Well, let me tell you something. I’ve got enough experienced men out there to be a big help to you. Put them with twenty or so of your soldiers, and you’ve got over fifty men! You know damn well Wild Horse has to be someplace in Comanche Hills. My brother and that woman could still be alive. Maybe they need our help. My pa would expect us to try to find Wade; and by God, if you don’t help, my pa will also have a few things to report about you to men in Washington who can make or break you! You’ll sit out here in this godforsaken fort the rest of your life, and you won’t be wearing a captain’s decorations and be in charge either!”
Howell drew in his breath as though someone had hit him. “You can’t threaten me, Morrow!”
“Can’t I? You’d be surprised who my pa knows, Howell!” Bill leaned over the desk, glaring at the captain. “I have a suggestion, Howell, and you’d be wise to take me up on it. I’m offering you over thirty men—all hard-bitten, experienced Indian fighters. I suggest we pool our resources and see if we can rout out Wild Horse and find my brother. We’re going, whether you join us or not; but my father would look a lot more favorably on you if you helped us—and you just might get lucky and get credit for capturing Wild Horse! I’m not sure my brother would approve of that, but if it’s the only way we can save him and Miss Andrews, we have to do it. Maybe if we can at least find this Wild Horse we can learn if Wade and Miss Andrews are still alive!”
Howell sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair again, obviously shaken. “All right,” he finally said. “Our best bet is to go north and hope we find some sign of Comanche. Believe me, when they don’t want to be found, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. What about your appointment in Galveston? Don’t you have to be there by a certain date? What about your business?”
“Our pa would consider this a lot more important,” Henry answered. “How soon can you have some men ready?”
“It’s too late to try to leave yet tonight,” Howell answered. “We’ll leave at dawn.”
Bill moved away from his desk, adjusting his hat. “My men will be ready at first light.” He looked at Howell with smouldering dark eyes. “One thing you better understand, Howell—Wade Morrow is worth more than all your men put together. He’s as much a brother to us as if we carried the same blood, and he means a lot to our ma—pa, too. You better hope he’s all right, and that Miss Morrow is, too.”
Both men turned and left, and Howell plunked down into his chair with a deep sigh. He quickly grabbed up his log book, opening it to the present date.
Visited by Bill and Henry Morrow, he wrote. Part owners of Morrow Freighting. Because of the fine reputation of this company, and the fact that Mr. Lester Morrow carries government contracts with the army leaves me responsible to help Bill and Henry Morrow find their step brother, Wade Morrow, who has been captured by Wild Horse. I cannot in good conscience wit
hdraw my help in this mission, in spite of the fact that it will be dangerous and I am short of men. But duty calls. It is my hope to also capture Wild Horse and rid this area of the Texas frontier of the terror and bloodshed for which he is responsible.
He sat back and read the report, deciding it made him sound like a dedicated officer. He closed the book, deciding the Morrow brothers might be doing him a favor. If he could capture Wild Horse, he might finally earn himself a promotion that would send him back East. Either way, not helping Bill and Wade Morrow could quite possibly erase all hope of ever getting out of Texas.
“Damn troublemakers,” he muttered. He barked orders for Lieutenant Brown to come in, giving the man instructions to prepare twenty-five men to be ready to leave in the morning.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
No night had ever seemed longer for Jennifer. She could not forget what Aguila had told her. If Wade was to have any chance against Wild Horse, he had to have that extra bit of hate to goad him on. She had to convince him Wild Horse had raped her. She dreaded what was to come, dreaded watching the fight, yet knew it would be almost harder to sit inside somewhere and not watch at all. She sensed that for an Indian man, it was a matter of pride and honor that his woman watch him in battle; and white as Wade was in his beliefs and actions, it was obvious he carried that same deep pride.
She lay on a mat, while outside were the sounds of insects, and the occasional call of a wolf. Wild Horse lay sprawled on a mat not far away. Watching him by the dim light of a dying fire made her miss Wade, for in sleep, one could hardly tell the difference between the two men. But she could not watch Wild Horse lovingly, only with near hate, and with distrust. Her mind raced with the possible ways of making him change his mind about the fight. Deep in sleep as he was, she could easily kill him; but she was not sure Wade would want her to do that. Maybe somewhere deep inside he needed to do it himself. She was surprised she could even consider murdering someone, and she realized then the extent of her love for Wade.
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