Rip’s forehead wrinkled into a bemused frown before he sighed and left the room.
The tension gradually eased from Bay’s shoulders, and she slumped at the desk. It wasn’t going to be easy fitting back into this family. Her reactions were as confusing to her as they were to the others. She would just have to take one step at a time.
Bay finished her work with the books early and spent the rest of the day wandering around Three Oaks, checking out the new kitchen and barn, roaming through the orchards of plum and fig trees, and visiting the slave quarters to see Mammy Pleasant, who took care of the little ones while their parents worked in the fields. She wished there had been more to do in the office, because without the plantation business to keep her mind busy, she had too much time to think.
She recalled every step of her relationship with Long Quiet, from its inauspicious beginning to its conclusive end. She tried to figure out exactly when she’d started to love Long Quiet and decided it had happened when he’d pulled Little Deer into his lap to tell her his favorite bedtime story. She was amazed to realize he had all but replaced Jonas Harper in her heart and mind.
So it was quite a shock when Bay showed up for dinner, dressed in a watermelon-pink silk dress that tapered in a V from the shoulders to the tightly fitted waist, to find Jonas Harper waiting in the parlor.
“Hello, Bayleigh,” he said.
Bay saw a handsome man with chestnut hair, a full moustache that covered his upper lip, sparkling tobacco eyes, and a flashing smile that charmed without half trying. When he opened his arms to her in the old familiar way, she hesitated only momentarily before stepping into his embrace. His arms closed around her so she felt safe and secure—even if she didn’t experience the same nerve-jangling sensual attraction she’d felt with Long Quiet. She tried not to feel guilty that she was betraying Long Quiet, but the unease was there. And that made her angry, because he’d abandoned her, not the other way around.
She leaned her head back and searched Jonas’s face for what he was feeling. “It’s been a long time,” she said.
His eyes dilated slightly with desire, and his lips curved in wry humor. “Four years. I’ve missed you.”
“What are you doing here in Texas?” Bay asked. “I thought your father’s business was in Louisiana.”
“It was—is—I’ve branched out into Texas. I came calling six months ago looking for you, and your father told me you were traveling on the Continent.”
Bay flushed, ashamed of the lie but unwilling to correct it. “Yes . . . well . . .”
Jonas took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “I’m glad you’re home.”
Bay felt an unwelcome flutter in her stomach and thought perhaps it was simply relief that he hadn’t seemed to notice the calluses on her fingers. She was somewhat alarmed at her reaction to Jonas’s charm. After all, she was still in love with Long Quiet. “I waited for you in Boston, but you never came back for me like you promised,” she accused.
“You’ll never know how sorry I am for that,” Jonas said, his tone too sincere to be doubted. “I couldn’t come. There were unavoidable circumstances that kept me in Louisiana. But I’m here now, Bayleigh. And I don’t intend to leave until I have your promise to become my wife.”
Bay caught sight of Rip smiling and felt a vague sense of discomfort. She’d never told her father about her relationship with Jonas. Was it possible Rip intended to manipulate her into a relationship whether she wanted it or not? How could she hope to feel the same love for Jonas now that Long Quiet had come into her life? “A lot has happened to me since we last saw each other,” she said to Jonas. “I’m not certain we would still suit one another.”
Bay stood patiently while Jonas’s eyes raked her body from the auburn curls atop her head, to her generous bosom, to the pink bow tied at her cinched-in waist, and down the length of her gathered skirt to the feet she’d squeezed into black pumps.
“We’ll suit each other very well. But I agree we’ll need time to get reacquainted. I want to marry you, but I’m willing to court you, Bayleigh. A woman should have that, don’t you think?”
He knew all the right things to say, and Bay didn’t know how to counter his smooth words. She wanted to tell him she already had a husband, that he would be her second, but that would cause more problems than she was ready to handle. She wasn’t ready for another lover, but Jonas had also been a friend. And she needed a friend right now.
“Will you escort me in to dinner?” Bay said.
“Does this mean you’re consenting to my courtship, fair lady?”
Bay looked out from lowered lashes at the man she’d once thought would be her one true love, and who had returned fully intending to take that role again. “Let’s start with supper and see how things progress from there, shall we?”
“Of course, darling. Of course.”
As Jonas escorted her from the parlor to the dining room, Bay shot a meaningful glance over her shoulder at Rip. She’d make her own decisions about who she’d marry.
It was a small defiance, but defiance all the same.
Chapter 16
PEROTE, MEXICO
1843
IT WAS DARK, TOO DARK TO SEE FACES, TOO DARK EVEN TO see shapes, but Long Quiet knew there was someone out there in the Mexican desert not far from him. He touched Creed’s arm and knew his friend would understand the unspoken message: Wait here. I’ll find out who’s there.
Neither a stone turned nor bush crackled as Long Quiet made his way toward the rustling sound that had first drawn his attention. He could hear men whispering and tried to determine what language they spoke. Were they Mexican—the pursuers, or Texan—the pursued? But the sounds weren’t distinct enough to make out. He’d have to get closer.
When he heard the hiss of inflating air, Long Quiet knew he’d be discovered momentarily. The coiling rattlesnake was as effective as a watchdog. Yet Long Quiet didn’t dare move. Any movement on his part and the snake now coiling a foot from his nose would strike. The deadly buzz began, alerting those whispering in the darkness that something—or someone—had alarmed the prowling rattler.
“Shh! Shhh!”
Long Quiet could hear them warning one another to be still.
“You all right out there?” a voice whispered. “You find something?”
It was the confirmation Long Quiet had sought. He knew now that he’d found the men who’d escaped from the Mexican prison called Castle San Carlos. He could say nothing without further alarming the rattler, but he knew if he remained still, the snake would soon move away. It seemed an endless time before the rattler’s angry buzz settled to a steady chik-chik, chik-chik, and finally to a chik, chik, chik, and then silence. He waited a while longer to be sure the deadly night creature had gone on its way.
Long Quiet’s attention had been so focused on the rattler that it took all his fighting instincts to counter the force of the wiry arm that suddenly circled his throat, cutting off his air. With a quick twisting movement, Long Quiet freed himself, bringing the other man’s arm high up behind his back. He could tell from the thinness of the man’s wrists and the leanness of his body that he was one of the prisoners. “I’m here to help,” he said in English.
“Long Quiet?” an astonished voice asked.
“Yes, it’s me. Is that you, Luke?”
“Yeah.”
“Luke? You out there, Luke?” a voice called out.
“Dammit, Sammy,” Luke hissed back. “Don’t you know enough to keep quiet? You’ll have the whole damn Mexican army down on us in a minute if you keep up that yammering.”
“You find someone out there, Luke?” Sammy persisted.
“Yes, dammit. So will you just shut up, Sammy?”
“Hey, Luke, who you got?” a man called Chester called out.
“Goddamnedest bunch of farmers and storekeepers I ever met,” Luke muttered. “Ready to fight in a minute, bull-headed and bighearted, but without a lick of sense. Come on. I’ll show you where they are.”
“Jesus!”
“Well, I’ll be damned!”
“A goddamn Comanche!”
“How the hell didja catch a Injun, Luke? You was s’posed to be keepin’ an eye out for Meskins.”
Long Quiet cocked his head and listened for a second, then said in perfect English, “No need to look for them. They’re on there way here right now.”
Sammy’s jaw dropped to the collar of his ragged shirt as he stammered, “Wh-what’s g-goin’ on here?”
Luke smiled when he could see Long Quiet in the firelight. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Is Creed out there somewhere?”
“Sure is. He’s with the horses and supplies. You’d better get your farmers and storekeepers packed up and out of here in a hurry if you don’t want to find yourselves right back in Castle San Carlos.”
“Let’s go, fellas,” Luke said, kicking the fire out as he gathered his meager belongings.
“What’s goin’ on?” Chester demanded belligerently. “How do we know we can trust this dirty Injun?”
“This ‘dirty Injun’ is about to save your filthy hide, Chester,” Luke growled. “If you want to argue with him about it, do it after we cross the Rio Grande. Understand?”
Chester grunted but kept his thoughts to himself.
“I thought there were supposed to be sixteen of you,” Long Quiet said as they made their way toward where Creed waited with the horses.
“Not everybody was well enough to come. Half the men in our cell were either sick or dying with vómito. Hell, three of the men with me are still recuperating from the effects of the disease,” Luke’s voice rasped in anger. “The Mexicans don’t need a firing squad to kill the Texans in Perote. Disease and neglect are accomplishing the same thing. Why the hell hasn’t the Texas government done something to get us out of that hellhole?”
“You’ll have to ask Creed that,” Long Quiet replied. “But I think there’s something else we need to take care of first.”
The Mexican cavalry was almost upon them. They could easily hear the jingle of bits, the muffled plodding of unshod hooves, the clank of sabers, the grunts of men and animals as they made their weary way through the dark. Apparently, the Mexicans didn’t know how close they were to their quarry.
The Mier prisoners silently ran for their lives, hell-bent on reaching the horses Creed and Long Quiet had brought. When one of the sick ones faltered, Long Quiet hefted him over his shoulder and kept moving. Luke did the same with another man, and Chester—huge, irascible Chester—did the same with a third.
Creed was waiting for them and assisted those who needed help in getting mounted. It seemed they would escape undetected when Sammy’s bare foot slipped completely through the stirrup as he tried to mount. His startled horse bolted, dragging a yowling Sammy through the rocks and cactus after him.
Sammy’s howls would have awakened the dead. They certainly roused the Mexican cavalry to action. While Long Quiet went after Sammy, Creed quickly distributed the Colt repeating revolvers he’d brought along, and the group of men the Mexican cavalry might moments before have broached like a stand of sagebrush, quickly became an impenetrable mass of spiny cactus.
“Bet that’s Old Guts hisself out there,” Chester shouted. “What say we get ’im, boys?”
Men who’d suffered cruelty and brutality for too long turned on their captors like avenging angels in the darkness.
“Here’s for the Republic!” one shouted.
“Black beans, hah!” another cried.
“Texas! Texas!” a third chanted, firing several shots into the dark.
As several of the Mexicans shrieked and fell from their horses under the onslaught of the Texans’ gunfire, their leader panicked. Somehow, the unarmed prisoners he’d been chasing had gotten hold of revolvers. He hadn’t forgotten the lessons of Mier. Put a gun in the hand of one of these Texas devils and he quickly sent a host of Mexican souls to heaven.
“Los Diablos Tejanos!” he screamed. “Retírense! Retírense!” He urged them to retreat, yanking on the reins of his confused horse and spurring the animal away from the awesome firepower that had opened up on them. All around him men screamed in pain as the Texan guns spit bullets at them. “Retírense!” he cried again, using his saber to whip at the milling horses clustered in his path.
The Texans chased the Mexicans for nearly a mile, their bloodlust high, their need for revenge overwhelming. It was Luke Summers who finally called a halt to the carnage.
“Hold up there, Chester! Hey, Sammy, hold on. How about turning around and heading for home. Let’s get out of this godforsaken land,” he cried. “Let’s go home to Texas!”
Soon his cry was picked up by laughing Texans with tears streaming from their eyes. In voices hoarse with emotion, they shouted, “Home to Texas! Home to Texas!”
Luke was giddy with freedom, wide awake, his blood pumping in the aftermath of battle, and totally exhausted at the same time by the effort he’d exerted with a body withered by so many months of near starvation. “Who knows the way home?” he asked, his teeth glistening white in the light of the rising moon.
“Follow me,” Long Quiet said.
The tired prisoners were more than happy to give over control of their destiny to someone in authority. It was a long, grueling night, and Long Quiet listened with half an ear to Luke’s nearly constant tirade against the Texas government, which had abandoned the prisoners of Mier to their fate.
When the sun rose on the ragtag men who’d escaped, Long Quiet saw why Luke was so angry. The eight men who’d tunneled under the walls of Castle San Carlos were emaciated, their bodies barely covered by the pitiful rags that had once been clothing. Some bore scars from beatings. All had bare feet. If the changes Long Quiet saw in Luke were indicative, these men had lived through a year of hell.
Luke Summers had aged. The brooding eyes that had so enticed the ladies of San Antonio now reflected a burning fury as well as a bleak bitterness. The well-developed back, the whip-lashed shoulders, and the muscular thighs all bore witness to the heavy work he’d done, but the flesh had dwindled to a shadow of what had been there before. His hair had grown to shoulder length and was tangled and dirty. There was little left of the charming young Ranger who’d drawn women to his bed like a Texas marsh drew mallards.
Luke was still asking Creed pointed questions days later, when they crossed the Rio Grande.
“Is Sam Houston planning to do something to free the rest of those men in Perote?” he demanded.
“I’ve already explained what’s holding him back, Luke,” Creed answered placatingly.
“About a half dozen times,” Chester muttered under his breath.
Luke shot the man a quelling glance, and Creed continued, “Sam Houston doesn’t want to take a chance of antagonizing the Mexican government. The last thing he needs is a war with Mexico while he’s trying to negotiate annexation with the United States.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” Luke retorted. “There ought to be some way to free the Mier prisoners without a full-scale war. What the hell happened to diplomacy?”
“I’m afraid there are too few Texas diplomats, and the ones we have are busy talking to United States congressmen and senators,” Creed answered. He pulled his horse to a stop and turned to face the men who followed behind him. “This is it,” he said. “You’re on Texas soil now—at least what Texas claims is Texas soil,” he amended with a grin. “The horses and guns are yours to keep, with my compliments. I wish you luck and hope you find your families well.”
Creed soberly shook hands with the men he and Long Quiet had brought out of Mexico. They left in groups of two or three as they headed back to the stores, the small farms, and the lonely, hardworking wives they’d left behind nearly a year before.
“I’ll be leaving you here, too,” Luke said.
“Where are you planning to go?” Creed asked.
“Guess I’ll head back to San Antonio and see what Captain Hays has in mind for a long-absent Ranger,” Luke said. His brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe he’s got some sway with the Texas government. I sure as hell want to find somebody who does and give them a piece of my mind.”
“Why not talk with Hays and then come home with me?” Creed said. “I have a new daughter who’s going to be christened Jesse Elizabeth Creed as soon as I get to Three Oaks. Cricket asked me to invite you to come to this shindig, and I’m extending my own invitation as well.”
Long Quiet noticed that Luke’s whole body tensed and his gaze became shuttered at the mention of Cricket. Creed had told Long Quiet that from the instant they’d met, there had been some kind of unspoken communication between Luke and Cricket and he knew they’d eventually become close friends. But what if Luke turned his charm on Bay? Would she be equally susceptible to whatever it was that made Luke so popular with the ladies?
Long Quiet’s musing was interrupted when Luke smiled a heart-stopping grin and said “Sure, Creed. I’d love to come to your daughter’s christening.”
“Let’s get moving, then,” Creed said. “We’ve got some miles to cover yet.”
“I’ll ride with you for a while,” Long Quiet said.
Creed frowned. “What do you mean, for a while? I thought you were coming to the christening too. Cricket’s expecting you. Now that you’ve brought Bay home—”
“You found Bay?” Luke interrupted. “How is she? Is she all right? Where was she?”
“Whoa!” Creed said with a laugh. “Long Quiet found her in a Quohadi Comanche village and took her home. She’s just fine.”
Luke’s interest in Bay sent chills down Long Quiet’s spine. He eyed the other man suspiciously. “Why are you so interested in Bay?”
“Why, because she’s Cricket’s sister,” Luke said. “Cricket’s told me a lot about Bay. I feel as though I know her, even though I’ve never met her.”
Long Quiet pulled his pony to a stop, barring Luke’s path. “Leave her alone.”
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