He pulled her close, his large hand pressing her head against his chest. She could hear the thundering of his heart against her ear, and her smile widened. She looked up into his face, and blue eyes filled with love met brown eyes filled with adoration.
“I’ll be back,” he told her huskily, and she knew he was making her a promise.
“You better,” she agreed just as huskily. Her eyes grew solemn. “Be careful, Wolf.”
He kissed her with a kiss so full of promise, her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. She watched him climb back on Dancer, and giving her one last look, he wheeled about and headed out of town. Heavyhearted, April watched him leave.
She made her way slowly into the sheriff ’s office, not certain she was up to her brother’s upcoming interrogation. The look in his eyes told her that she had a lot to answer for.
The sheriff allowed her into his cell, and she seated herself on the bunk next to him. His look roved her features, and lifting one dark eyebrow, he asked, “Jackson gone?”
Flushing, she dropped her gaze to the dusty floor. “Yes.”
“Do you really love him?”
She looked at him then, her eyes sparking with resolution. “Yes, I do.”
He sighed heavily. “I hope for your sake that you’re not disappointed.”
“Why should I be?”
Reading the look on her face, his own face darkened. “Don’t even think that! I am not referring to the man’s race. If you remember correctly, mother hired a black nanny for us when we were younger, and we both loved her. You’re not the only one who can see beyond skin color. I have no problem with his race.” He got up and curled his hands around the cell bars. “But there are things you don’t understand.”
“Such as?”
Instead of answering, he yelled for the sheriff. Sheriff Baker took his time answering the summons, and when he finally meandered into the room, Jason Dice was with him.
“What do you want?” the sheriff snapped.
Jason’s look was nasty. “He wants to hang, don’t you, Mr. Hansen?” The look he threw April was full of loathing.
“I have something for you,” Ted told the sheriff, surprising everyone. He reached down and took off his boot. Turning it over, he pried open the heel with his fingers and pulled out a piece of paper. Unfolding it, he handed it to the sheriff.
Curious, April joined him at the bars. She tried to see past his broad shoulders, but all she could see was the stunned expression on the sheriff ’s face.
“What is it?” she asked.
The sheriff looked at Ted, his face a curious mixture of disbelief and awe. “It’s a letter from the commander of the Texas Rangers, Mr. John Ford. It’s cosigned by the president of the United States, James Buchanan.”
April’s startled gaze flew to her brother.
“It says here,” the sheriff continued, “that Mr. Ted Hansen, Texas Ranger, is acting under the auspices of the federal government and the State of Texas, and that he is to be afforded every vestige of legal rank.”
Jason grabbed the paper from his hand. “Let me see that!” He quickly scanned the note, his face blanching. “It’s a forgery,” he declared vehemently.
The sheriff took the paper, studying it. “Not with the president’s seal, it’s not.”
The color drained from April’s face. “You’re a ranger? But…but why didn’t you tell Yellow Wolf?”
He avoided her searching eyes. “I need out of here, Sheriff. Now!”
Sheriff Baker hastily retrieved his keys and opened the door of the cell. Ted quickly exited, April following more slowly. Jason followed behind, his manner suddenly subdued. He stalked past them angrily and left the office.
“I need my guns,” Ted barked at the sheriff.
“Ted!”
He turned to her then. Taking her by the shoulders, he bent until he could look into her eyes.
“Listen to me, April. I don’t have time to explain things now. You’ll have to wait until I get back.”
“If you get back!”
He cocked her a grin. “Have a little faith, will you?” Strapping on his holsters, he returned the paper to his hollowed-out boot sole, tapping the leather back in place. Putting his boot back on, he told her solemnly, “Pray for me.”
He dashed out the door, jumping to his horse tied to the rail. Whipping the reins loose from the post, he turned and galloped after Yellow Wolf.
April watched him leave, her heart in her throat. Swallowing convulsively, she decided that he was right. It was time to pray.
Amos Miller had been decidedly sloppy in leaving a trail to follow, and Wolf was more than a little suspicious.
He watched from the confines of a green shelter belt of trees as the trio ambled around their shanty in preparation for leaving. They were tying bundles to their horses, and he suspected it was probably the loot from their recent escapades. That they were cold-blooded killers warranted caution.
He pulled his bow up, knocking an arrow onto the string. Two other arrows sat on the ground beside him. He would have to be fast, because Amos was a notorious quick draw.
He located each man, and with quick precision let fly three arrows, one right after the other.
The first pinned Chauncy to the side of the shanty, his gun arm arrested by the piercing of the arrow. The second arrow struck Al in the right arm, effectively ruining his gun hand. The third arrow missed its target, Amos’s quick reflexes causing him to drop to the ground to allow the arrow to fly over his head. Still, it gave Wolf the time he needed to get quickly to his feet and draw his two revolvers.
Amos, reaching for his holster, froze to the spot. The other two did the same. Seeing Wolf clad in buckskins, his bow slung over his back, reminded them of all the stories they had heard about him.
He carefully descended the hill until he was on level ground with them.
“You’re getting sloppy in your old age, Miller. You left a trail a child could follow.”
Amos cursed, spitting on the ground. “That’s a lie. We took care to cover our tracks.”
“It were that pup, Hansen,” Al growled. “You told him to disguise our trail.”
“That’s right, you did.”
Wolf tensed, recognizing the voice from behind him. He could hear Ted climbing down the hill at his back. If he let off three shots at the others, would he have time to turn and fire on Hansen?
With his mind off center from his opponents, Wolf missed Amos’s quick draw. A shot rang out from behind him, and Amos’s gun fell with a thud.
Ted drew up beside Wolf, his cocky grin a bit disarming. A wisp of smoke from his gun added the smell of burning powder to the air. “Hi ya, Jackson. Glad we’re on the same team.”
Snarls from the men greeted this statement. Puzzled, Wolf threw Ted a quick glance.
“I’ll explain on the way. Right now, let’s get these desperadoes behind bars where they belong.”
Ted passed him, going to the others and cuffing them. He then searched the saddlebags and bundles. “Looks like it’s all here.”
Wolf waited passively while Ted got the three hoodlums onto their horses. Ted turned to him, shifting uncomfortably under his steady regard.
“You don’t have much to say, do you? Aren’t you curious?”
Wolf crossed his arms over his chest, feet spread apart. His look was enigmatic.
“Ford sent you, didn’t he?”
Startled, Ted turned to him, his mouth slightly agape. “How’d you know?”
Wolf took Dancer’s reins and swiftly mounted. Though his face was inscrutable, his eyes sparked with anger.
“It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Rip Ford hates Comanches, and I’m half Comanche.”
Ted had to hurry to catch up with him. “It’s not like that at all. Rip found out that there’s a bad ranger, one who is helping robbers for a piece of their profit. Since Miller and his gang have been so hard to track, he knew they must be getting help somewhere.”
&nb
sp; Wolf cast him a wrathful glance from the side of his eyes. “And since I’m part Indian, of course it had to be me.”
Color mounted to Ted’s cheeks. “I’ll grant you that probably had a part in his thinking, but you aren’t the only one who is under suspicion. You have been trekking around out here where we knew Miller’s hideout to be. And since the Comanche have been giving settlers and reservation Indians so much grief this past year trying to implicate them in crimes, well…”
“You needn’t explain. I understand perfectly.” Wolf glanced at him again. “I’ve been tracking Miller for some time on my own. I knew if anyone could find him, I could,” he suggested, totally without conceit. He tilted his head slightly. “What about you? What changed your mind about me?”
“April.”
Wolf jerked his head upward. “What about her?”
The look Ted gave Wolf spoke volumes. “My sister couldn’t love someone the way she loves you if they were bad. It’s just not in her.”
“She deserves better,” Wolf growled.
A small smile tilted Ted’s lips. He reached forward, patting the neck of his gelding. “She couldn’t find better, and I’ll be telling Rip so.”
Wolf ’s features hardened. “You can also tell him that I’m resigning from the Rangers.”
Ted sighed heavily. “I can’t blame you, but are you sure you want to do that? The Rangers need men like you.”
“I’m doing it for April.”
April heard hoofbeats outside her cabin and hurried to the door. She flung the portal wide, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw her brother and Wolf come cantering into the yard.
Though Wolf dismounted, Ted stayed seated on his mount. April’s eyebrows lifted in question.
Ted smiled wryly. “I have some things to do. I’ll return in a few days.”
“What kind of things?” she asked, coming across the yard to his side. Looking up at him, she studied him to see if he was well.
“Well, I have to return that diamond necklace to the bank in San Antonio, for one thing. They only let us borrow it with a guarantee of return.”
April placed her hands on her hips, her forehead wrinkled. “There was no Darcy, was there?”
He shook his head, smiling. “I’m sorry about all the lies. It was necessary.” Seeing the questions about to come, he told her, “Wolf can fill you in on the rest.” He leaned down and touched her cheek, his eyes meeting hers. “He’s a good man, Sis. Keep him if you can.”
She smiled, quick tears coming to her eyes. “Come back soon.”
He returned her smile then gave Wolf a quick nod. Turning, he trotted out of the yard. April watched him until he was out of sight.
“I like your brother,” Wolf said, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders.
April turned slowly until she was facing him. His arms wrapped around her.
“I’m glad,” she told him, placing her palms against his chest. “And he likes you.”
Wolf smiled wryly. “It always helps if you can get along with your in-laws.”
He looked deep into her eyes and saw the answer to his question before he ever asked it. He asked it anyway.
“Will you marry me, April Hansen?”
“In a heartbeat,” she returned quickly.
His smile turned into a full-fledged grin, but it slowly faded, his eyes becoming serious. “It could be difficult.”
“Aren’t all marriages?” she quipped.
He frowned. “April—”
She stopped him with a quick kiss. “People have survived it before. I suppose we can, too. I love you, Wolf. Like Ruth said so long ago, wherever you go, I’ll go.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, waiting to see if he would break his long-ago promise.
His eyes grew darker with each passing second, but he still refused to move.
Realizing that he would never break his oath, no matter the incentive, she sighed. “You’re a very stubborn man, Yellow Wolf Jackson! Would you please kiss me? Now and every day for the rest of our lives.”
He readily complied.
SAVING GRACE
by Kathleen Y ’Barbo
Dedication
This novella is dedicated first and foremost to my heavenly Father who reigns on high and to my earthly father who now lives with Him. Also, to the men in my life: Robert Turner, my Texas-born hero in combat boots, and Josh, Andrew, and Jacob, the source of much inspiration, irritation, and indescribable joy. And finally to all the strong women before and after me who, through their courage and convictions, have been the roots out of which my family tree has flourished, especially Mom, Mimi, Granny, and of course, Princess Hannah.
“For by grace are ye saved through faith;
and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God.”
EPHESIANS 2:8
Chapter 1
Texas, on the trail between Santa Fe and the Brazos River
October 1854
Nine times out of ten, Ranger Captain Jedadiah Harte listened to the Lord and acted without questioning Him on the finer points of His plans. Today, however, he felt like maybe he’d misunderstood.
Many times on the ride from San Antonio, he’d been tempted to slide his trusted matched Walker Colt revolvers from their resting place beneath his King James Bible and slip them back into his belt where they used to belong. Always he’d felt the strong pull of the Lord’s hand keeping his fingers on the reins and his heart on the straight and narrow.
To the surprise of everyone but the God who knew him well, Jed had turned over leadership to his second in command and hit the trail. The talk around headquarters gave him six months before he came riding into town and reclaimed it, but Jed knew better. A part of him would forever love being a ranger. The thrill of the chase and the triumph of good over evil never failed to satisfy.
In nearly fifteen years with the Rangers, “Heartless Harte,” as he’d become known, had amassed an impressive list of criminals dispatched to the afterlife, a testament to the deadly accuracy with which he could aim his Walker Colts. He’d been proud of his record, and more than one newspaperman had trailed Heartless Harte to write about it later in gory detail.
Then last spring he’d been tracking a couple of rustlers when he came across a camp meeting south of Gonzales. Normally he would have steered clear of the place in favor of a warm bedroll and a shot of red-eye, but something he later realized to be the hand of the Lord caused him to stay.
First thing, the circuit-riding preacher asked him where he planned to spend eternity. The question left him madder than a peeled rattler, and the answer left him frightened for the first time since he’d been out of knee pants.
Right then and there he gave his life over to the Lord and promised Him He’d be first in command. Baptized in a little creek in the middle of nowhere, the infamous Heartless Harte became just plain old Jed Harte, citizen and soldier for the cross.
No more killing and no more use for the Walker Colts; he’d promised the Lord. His rifle would shoot all the game he could eat and his bowie knife would skin the carcasses. He’d lived by his senses before he’d become a ranger, and he sure could do it again, although with fall nearly past and winter coming on, he had his doubts on exactly how.
Besides handling a firearm, he’d been pretty handy with a hammer and nail. If carpentering was a fine enough profession for his Savior, it sure was good enough for him.
His prayers had led him to believe his true calling came in winning souls, and someday he hoped to do just that. Heading for Galveston by way of the Brazos River, he felt he might have some luck gathering a following for Christ amongst the roughs on the dock. After all, those were his people; the ilk from which he’d come. What better place to finish his life than where it all started?
Jed shifted positions in the saddle and stretched to loosen the kinks. With an eye to the fading sun, he urged his mount into a gallop. A little luck and he’d make it by sunset. He’d camp there, maybe near a landing owned by a fellow he knew from
his ranger days.
A decade ago, he’d helped him build a house to bring his bride home to. Now maybe Ben Delaney would return the favor by putting him up for the night. Tomorrow he’d catch a passing steamer downriver at first light and be off on the mission the good Lord had created him for.
Ducking his head to pass beneath the low limb of a spreading pecan tree, he thought about what he’d be doing right now if he were still back in San Antonio. The Lord knew what lay ahead, but Jed would never forget what he’d left behind. Someday, though, maybe he’d bring enough souls to the Lord to earn His forgiveness.
A lazy butterfly teased the rust-colored mane of his sorrel mare and landed on the horn of his saddle. For a few minutes they rode together in companionable silence, only the hoofbeats and the gulls’ cry breaking the peace.
Then, from out of the blue came a loud crack, and his whole world went black.
“So much black.”
Grace Delaney looked down at the yards of black muslin covering the rise in her belly. It spilled across the quilt and gathered in a dark pool at her feet on the chilly wide boards of the oak floor. Two months, three at the most, and her child would make an entrance into the world. A world filled with a future just as black as the widow’s weeds its mother wore.
Only five-year-old Bennett and little Mary-Celine, her precious children, kept Grace from shedding the prison of her widow’s clothing to disappear for good into the muddy swirls of the Brazos River. She fingered the heavy muslin of her skirt and banished the awful thought.
How little time had passed since she’d worn crinolines and whalebone corsets and attended the French Opera House in New Orleans and danced at the finest plantations along the river? Could it be less still since she’d come to Texas and settled at Delaney’s Landing as the seventeen-year-old bride of the dashing Ranger Ben Delaney?
Some days it seemed like just yesterday. Other days, it seemed like an eternity had passed since she and Ben had taken up farming together and built the landing that now supplied foodstuffs up and down the Brazos.
Texas Brides Collection Page 13
