Threads of Change

by Jodi Barrows

  Tex picked up a small twig and placed it at the edge of the fire to ignite it. He used the burning twig to light the end of his cigarette. He inhaled a big breath from the tobacco and exhaled a smoke ring that floated up before he replied. “Not much difference in a lawman or an outlaw, Miss. They both stay on the move. The lawman dies with honor, and the outlaw just dies.”

  “I’m so anxious to get settled again. This much time on the road is more than enough for me.”

  Tex sat quietly and smoked his cigarette until it grew smaller. He looked at the end of it and moved his tanned fingers closer to the unlit end. “I had a family once, a good woman and four girls with golden curls, something like yours. We had a little ranch, too.”

  His words trailed off, and Tex remained silent for a while as Liz sat wondering about this man and his sorrow.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” she stated in an effort to provide sincere comfort.

  “Oh, don’t feel sorry for me. It’s my fault that I don’t have them and the ranch. I’m an old cowboy. I’ve paid for my choices.”

  “What do you mean? I thought they were dead.”

  “One day, I just got on my horse and rode off, Miss Liz. I didn’t mean to leave … I just never went back, and I never sent word. The pull of the West got to me. Once I realized I wanted to go back, it was too late. I returned to find my girls almost grown and life had moved along. Allie remarried after they felt sure I was dead. I decided to leave them with that memory.”

  Liz watched and listened to his story. Tex’s cigarette glowed as he dragged on it, sparking pretty red ambers as it bounced from a rock at the fire’s edge. His tanned, wrinkled face covered with at least two days of stubble grew serious under the shadow of his memories. He rubbed his shoulder and made a small moan. He then stretched out his legs, his boots daringly close to the flame as he drew one last puff and flicked the butt of his cigarette into the fire.

  “Are you hurt? I have some ointment that might help,” Liz offered the aging cowboy.

  “Thank you, I’m fine. Just an old wound from breaking a stubborn mustang a few years back.”

  Liz looked back to the fire.

  “Rain comin’ in, it seems. My shoulder knows.” Tex frowned at Liz as he added, “Sorry about the loss of your mister. You know for sure he is dead?”

  What a strange question, she thought. But maybe not so strange considering his own life experience.

  “Many of the workers witnessed the accident,” she answered quietly. “You know, I’m suddenly feeling worn out. I think I’ll head off to get some sleep.”

  “‘Night, Miss Liz.”

  “Goodnight, Tex.”

  On her way toward the wagon, Liz noticed lightning in the distance. A few seconds later, a soft rumble sounded from behind the clouds.

  The moon had turned full again, and the clouds in the distance brimmed with striking power. Thomas and Chet had only stopped for a few minutes to stretch their legs and give their ponies a break, and then decided to continue on since the moon had ignited the path without the clouds blocking it.

  Thomas figured a little of Chet’s optimism about meeting up with the Mailly women and their wagons had begun to wear off on him when he considered it might be possible for them to see the light from a campfire if one burned off in the distance. Chet seemed certain that they had to be near. Thomas wanted to believe that as well.

  As they sat atop a hill aided by the light of the reflective moon, Thomas could almost peer into the night’s vastness. He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out his rain slicker when a gust blew in, and Chet looked up at the sky, pushing his cowboy hat down tighter on his head while reaching for his coat.

  “It’s just a few clouds. Let’s keep riding,” Thomas said to Chet as he surveyed the sky again.

  Chet agreed and quickly mounted his pony.

  They rode toward the illuminated clouds, looking for any sign of a camp beneath a sky that rumbled like a low drum. When the clouds lit up again, Thomas spotted a small trail of smoke circling up to the night sky. He looked over at Chet in the hope that his friend had seen it, too, and they both leaned forward and spurred their mares into a full gallop as the raindrops began to drop hard, like weighted metal balls.

  Thomas slowed his animal as they got closer to camp, diffusing his excitement to see Liz again with a stern warning to himself about frightening her and the other women by barreling into camp. Chet took his cue and slowed his pony as well.

  “Be on the lookout for a guard. We don’t want to spook John or Blue as we approach.”

  “Good thinkin’,” Chet replied.

  They could see into camp now and saw John, Blue, and three others, all of them with their guns raised. They stepped down from the horses and called out as they approached the outer ring of camp.

  “John! Blue!” Thomas called out from the morning darkness. “We’re a-comin’ in.”

  “It’s them!” John announced.

  The strangers lowered their weapons and stepped out into the open as Thomas and Chet approached them with damp rain slickers and hearty smiles.

  “Who are these fellas?” Chet asked, eyeing the oldest of the three strangers.

  “Texas Rangers,” Blue told them.

  They exchanged introductions, handshakes, and firm slaps on the back as the group welcomed each other.

  “Thomas!” Luke hollered as he climbed from the wagon and ran to greet him.

  Luke and his dog reached the weary travelers at the same time, nearly knocking Thomas right off his feet.

  “It’s good to see you, Thomas! What happened? Where have you been? We had a tornado, and Mom got herself a black eye.”

  John and Blue laughed over Luke’s excitement and quick summary of the trip. Thomas ruffled Luke’s bed hair and laid his hand over his shoulder. “It sure is good to see you, Luke.”

  “Thomas! Oh, gracious! Thomas, is that you?”

  He looked up to find Liz, awakened by all the commotion, hurrying toward them.

  “It’s me, Liz. I found you!”

  Liz ran into Thomas’s open arms and threw her own arms around his neck and held him so tight the breath knocked out of his lungs. As Thomas wrapped her around the waist and pulled her closer to him, Liz started to cry.

  “I was beginning to worry, Thomas. We didn’t know where you were.”

  Wiping her eyes, Liz’s cheeks turned dark pink as she pulled away and gave Chet a clumsy embrace.

  “I can’t believe you made it back to us. Are you both all right?”

  “Yes, Miss Liz,” Chet replied. “We’re both fine, just very tired.”

  “Is the coffee on?” Thomas asked.

  The group moved toward the fire, and Liz began to pour the coffee. As the sun rose in the east, Emma, Megan, and Abby joyfully joined the gathering to help the exchange of stories and began to piece the puzzle together on how they had lost each other for so long.

  “Then the storm came and erased all the tracks and chances of us following you,” Chet added at last.

  “Guessing you went too far south while the others went west,” Jackson surmised.

  “Miss Emma, I sure wish you could have sewn me up.” Chet pulled his thick, long hair away from his forehead, revealing his healing—but still wide—gash atop his forehead.

  Emma stood and moved close to inspect the cut. She placed her hand on his chin to tilt his head toward the early light for a better look.

  “Yes,” Emma said confidently. “I believe I could have helped more with the scarring. At least it’s close to your hairline. It can’t be seen, really.”

  “What luck!” Chet said.

  Emma let his hair fall back over the cut and regarded her patient thoughtfully.

  “Chet, are you certain that you’re well? I’m not so sure.” She placed the back of her hand to his forehead again to feel for a fever.

  “Nothin’ wrong with me that seeing you again can’t cure, Miss Emma.”

  As the morning sun came up, t
he group continued talking about all they had encountered since they had last seen each other. Thomas was a happy man as he sat next to Liz, and he noted that she seemed perfectly at ease with him. It felt good to be together. Luke sat on the other side of Thomas, and he thought that, to someone who didn’t know any better, it might look like a gathering of family as Thomas sat with his arm along the back of Liz, resting on the wagon wheel.

  Maybe it’s a picture of things to come, he mused.

  If Liz agreed to marry him, Thomas might actually get that family he’d been wishing for so long. Maybe he and Liz and Luke could settle in Fort Worth together.

  Thomas couldn’t help the smile that cut his face in two. It sure wasn’t like him to think such optimistic thoughts all at one time.

  I guess Chet really did wear off on me a bit.

  “What are you grinning at?” Liz asked him in a whisper.

  “Just glad we’re all together again,” he replied. “Like it should be.”

  Tex and Thomas had agreed that, with Fort Worth only a few days away, they could travel faster if the men drove the wagons. They wanted to make it through Comanche territory safely, with the women (and the gold) intact.

  With the horses harnessed to their appointed wagons, Thomas doled out the assignments as to who would ride where. Colt would drive alone in the first wagon; only Thomas, Liz, and Tex knew it was full of the Mailly gold.

  Because of the gold, the weight wouldn’t allow any other passengers, Thomas had explained to him when he and Tex pulled the young man off to the side. Colt seemed content with the solitude and said he didn’t mind driving alone. He found that women talked too much, he’d told Thomas privately, and days of constant chatter would get the best of him. Being the lead wagon, he didn’t have to think about what went on in front of him or worry about what was behind. His pistol traveled right along the side of him, ready for any sign of danger. He’d checked his ammunition three times before they headed out, and he confided in Thomas that he felt proud to have the responsibility for looking after the gold.

  Thomas and Liz drove the next wagon. She said she could hardly wait to watch the changing landscape roll past and think about nothing more than her future.

  “What’s got your face lit up like a candle?” Thomas finally asked her as they bumped along.

  She would miss the garden, she told him, and wondered about planting a late one at her new home.

  “I wonder what vegetables will grow in Fort Worth,” she added, “and how late the season will be when we finally get around to planting. What do you think, Thomas? What shall I grow first?”

  Their conversation felt easy and Thomas felt as if they had passed an invisible milestone in their relationship. He wondered when it had happened. At what point in his absence had she grown so much closer to him. Just as he began mulling that over and imagining the answer, Liz leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “I’m so sleepy.”

  In the third wagon, Megan and Chet shared the bench seat. Chet had always been a talker, and Thomas figured he enjoyed Megan’s colorful and witty point of view. Chet had once told him that Megan valued “the important things in life,” and he suspected Chet’s feelings for her went much deeper than a mild appreciation.

  Even though it seemed like a strange mix, Abby and Tex agreed to ride together in the fourth wagon. The rough old Ranger seemingly intrigued the proper schoolteacher. Before they’d even climbed aboard the wagon and left their temporary camp behind, Tex had already engrossed Abby with story after story about the life of a Ranger in the wild, open country of Texas. From the woodlands to the prairie, he had patrolled and protected the settlers. He’d even worked with John Parker when his settlement was overtaken by the shrewd Comanches and his daughter Cynthia Ann was kidnapped. All these years later, Cynthia Ann had never been brought home and was still believed to be living among the Comanches. Abby had grabbed her sister Emma by the hand and said she thought it was the most tragic story she had ever heard. Thomas imagined Abby had spent at least a portion of the ride already looking out over the countryside and reliving the story.

  “I’m glad Abby befriended Tex the way she has,” Liz spoke out loud, making Thomas curious about whether she’d developed some mind-reading powers while he and Chet had been off without them. “He’s intriguing, don’t you think so?”

  Thomas shrugged. “I guess.”

  “The history of this state came alive when he spoke,” she told him. “The tales of adventure and despair seemed to really grasp Abby’s heart, and I’ll bet she’s back there right now urging him to tell her more.”

  “If nothing else, she’s learning a lot,” Thomas remarked. “She could take his knowledge and pass it on to her students. History’s sort of been written before Tex’s very eyes. I imagine Abby is soaking it right up.”

  “Tex seemed to almost get a kick out of Abby’s interest in the Comanches.”

  Thomas chuckled. “Look at you, making a love match between your young cousin and that old geezer of a Texas Ranger. You’re hiding the heart of a real romantic, Elizabeth Bromont.”

  “Oh, I am not,” she dismissed him with a giggle and the wave of her hand.

  The giant Texas Ranger, Jackson, with his horse Zeus tethered to the wagon, had Emma at his side. Emma was usually a quiet one, so Thomas figured Jackson might have been somewhat bored if not for the fact that he’d heard them conversing easily before they’d ever driven away from the campsite.

  Two remaining wagons picked up the rear. Luke and John were in one; Blue commanded the other, pulled by the oxen. Luke and John had agreed to take turns with their team.

  After several days more, they connected with a well-used road taking them directly north. It had been worn down by the cavalry riding to the fort, which excited Liz to no end because it meant that they were getting close to their new home.

  When the group came upon a brigade of men herding camels to the fort, the women became particularly enthused because they’d never seen these desert animals before. Liz was charmed by the humped creatures and their waddle as they rambled along. Tex told them that night over dinner under the stars that the army oftentimes used camels if they planned to travel into west Texas. They were more water-conscious than horses, though slower.

  One evening, Megan convinced two soldiers to let her ride one of the camels, and she rode through both camps, balancing between the humps of the lofty animal. Neither Tex nor Thomas found it even slightly amusing, and they hiked over to the army camp to inform the officer in charge that he might want to keep a tighter leash on keeping his troops in their own camp. Liz secretly delighted over Thomas’s protective nature.

  As the days followed, the two groups continued in the same direction, although the Mailly train moved ahead more quickly. At the campfire one evening, Tex reported that they would be approaching the fort in the morning. Liz stood up and threw her arms around Tex and kissed his weathered cheek. Chet pulled out his bottle of homemade sour mash and passed it around the fire. Liz noticed that Tex held the bottle a little longer than the others and then he watched it as it made its way back to Chet. The women passed it along without drinking, except for Megan, who took a small taste.

  “I don’t know how any of us are going to sleep at all tonight, Lizzie!” Megan cried. “I’m so excited to get there I can hardly contain myself.”

  After a brief discussion, the group decided to wake early in the morning. The excitement of their arrival blazed through each of them like a fast-moving fire.

  North Texas offered the newcomers a magnificent landscape. The earth rolled gently, thick with grass and majestic oak trees scattered along the small hills. The late summer sun sat high in the sky as the six expectant wagons rolled along the trail. Rainfall had obviously been plentiful that year, and the earth rejoiced in response.

  In the distance, Liz noticed a small herd of buffalo mingling and grazing under a gathering of trees she couldn’t identify. Each tree was shaped in a uniform ha
lf circle, its branches grown straight out from the trunk to look as if they were floating on a layer of air. Not a single twig or branch seemed the least bit out of place, and layered leaves neatly produced an abundance of shade to the earth below.

  Liz couldn’t stop darting her gaze from one amazing aspect to another as she admired the countryside and its unfamiliar splendor. She wanted to soak it all in—the smells, the sights, the sounds. Bumping along the open, grassy hillside, Liz felt a change occurring in her heart. Love for this western frontier had already begun growing inside her. As warm peace settled over her, she realized she felt strangely like Texas had been awaiting her arrival, and it welcomed her and her family with inviting, open arms.

  Looking across the horizon that would soon be home, she inhaled a long breath and nibbled on the side of her lip. Some golden strands of hair had escaped the edges of her bonnet and the thick braid down her back. As she captured her unruly locks and tucked them away, she began to think about the man sitting on the wagon bench next to her.

  Thomas Bratcher, a hard worker, always treated others with fairness and respect. Her grandfather had invested his trust in Thomas, expecting him to deliver his family safely to Texas.

  And Luke …

  Luke thought Thomas was grand!

  Thomas and Caleb had been best friends since childhood. She realized she never actually knew Thomas’s age. She’d always simply assumed he was the same age as her husband.

  Liz leaned back on the wagon seat and let the sun warm her face. As she pushed her bonnet back, she easily remembered the day the two friends had shown up at the edge of her grandfather’s property. She’d stepped through the doorway of the house and heard them talking where the pathway met the road. As Caleb and Thomas had laughed and joked with Grandpa Lucas, Liz had wondered if they had always been friends. She had certainly been curious about the handsome strangers.

  Caleb Bromont was the outgoing, roguish one; and Thomas Bratcher, the thoughtful one with chiseled features. Lingering on the porch with her yellow cat, Cally, she learned that she would see the young men again, as her grandfather had just hired them.