by Jodi Thomas
He pulled a book called The House of the Seven Gables from the stack and dropped into the nearest chair. Anything would be better than listening to Sage plan her husband-hunting trip to the dance.
Hours passed. He was lost in the book when Sage tapped on his shoulder.
"You'd better get dressed. We need to leave before it starts raining again."
Travis stood, reluctant to pull away from the fiction. "All right. Hitch the wagon while I change into the clothes Martha ironed for me this morning." He might as well stop dreading the evening and start getting it over with.
Sage folded her arms. "I can't. I'm all cleaned and pressed."
He looked at her. True. She wasn't just clean, she was spit and polished. For a moment he wondered where his sister was beneath all the ribbons and ruffles. The brothers had tried not to make her into a boy, but they may have gone too far. She looked as if she were wearing a bushel of lace.
"Hurry up." She pushed his leg off the arm of the chair. "I don't want to be late to the year's only dance."
There she was, he thought, bossy as ever. He remembered when she'd been five and Teagen had ordered her a china tea set for Christmas. She'd made them all sit down and have tea every night for a month. The conversation was always the same. They drank lukewarm tea, and she threatened to kill the first one who broke a piece of her set.
Travis took the stairs three at a time wishing either Teagen or Tobin had shown up to take his place. He'd made it to twenty-eight without ever having attended a barn dance and dreaded this one more than any gunfight he'd ever experienced. The folks around, even the upstanding ones, had never been too friendly toward him, and he guessed nothing would change just because they set the meeting to music. But Sage seemed to have her heart set on going.
Thirty minutes later he waited beside the buckboard while Sage stood on the porch and tied a scarf around her hair as if it were the most important thing she'd done all day. "I don't see why we can't ride horseback," he mumbled. "We could make it in half the time."
She didn't answer.
He studied the sky while he waited. Rain still lingered far off along the horizon. He'd lived outside for so many years, he could feel the weather as if it were a part of him. When he noticed Sage still standing on the porch, he got the hint and tromped through the mud to carry her to the wagon.
"Don't drive too fast," Sage said as she settled on the bench. "I don't want to lose all the curl I burned into my hair." She pulled her skirts around her knees. "And don't get those muddy boots within a foot of me."
"You're welcome," he said after he circled and climbed up on the other side.
"I'm sorry." She touched his arm. "I'm just excited. You don't know what this means to me. I've been planning it since Christmas."
He smiled, for the first time understanding how important this must be to her. The brothers had each other when their parents died, but Sage had only been a baby. "Well, then, I'd better get the prettiest girl in Texas to Old Elmo Anderson's annual party in one piece." He held the reins to a pair of matched bays that could have pulled ten times the wagonload at twice the pace. The McMurrays raised horses, and these were fine examples of their stock.
Twenty minutes later the wagon rolled across the only bridge that connected their ranch with the rest of the world. Travis sometimes told people he lived on an island, for it seemed that way. The river bordered the ranch from the north and east, the hills from the south and west. A lone man on horseback, if he knew the exact path, could make it through the cliffs between their land and the settlement in a few hours. The boys, when they traveled that way, never left any sign.
The bridge, two miles north of the ranch house, made access to the ranch easy but almost doubled the time it took to reach the settlement. Travis remembered, down to the smell, what it had been like the day he and his brothers burned the old bridge. Their father had been specific: If they were to survive, they had to totally isolate themselves from the world. The bridge that had taken Andrew McMurray a month to build burned within an hour.
It wasn't rebuilt for seven years. Until then, Travis or Teagen had packed everything they needed into the ranch using the hidden path between the hills. Their mother's father and a few braves had come for a short time a year after Andrew and Autumn died. He'd taught them how to mark a trail that they could follow but that no one else would see. He'd also shown them secrets about raising horses that not even their father knew. Then one night he and his men had left as silently as they'd come.
Travis watched the land as he drove the wagon looking for any sign that his grandfather might still be watching over the ranch. Once in a while he swore he saw one of his grandfather's markings on a branch or in dried mud, and he wondered if the old man were still around.
Twilight cooled the air by the time they reached Elmo Anderson's barn. Bedrolls spread out beneath buckboards revealed that some of the families must have arrived the day before. Several covered wagons, loaded for travel, stood circled to the south of the barn. New folks moving in or passing through, he thought. People were coming to Texas by the thousands-Germans, English, French-as well as a steady flow from the other states. Some wanting to get rich quick, but most only wanting a fresh start.
Travis noticed horses tied to a line thirty yards from the road. Saddles and gear had been stacked a few feet away. Hired hands, he thought, and from the looks of the mounts, some must have ridden long and hard to get here. Not counting those married, men still outnumbered women twenty to one out here. Sage would have her pick of single men, and Travis would make sure her pick measured up.
Sage had been wiggling in the seat for an hour. She was starting to look more like she thought she might be shot before anyone asked her to dance. "Promise me you'll stay close, Travis. There will be people here I don't know."
"You'll recognize most." He winked. "The others will want to know you."
She nodded but didn't look like she believed him. The McMurrays hated strangers with good reason.
"I won't let you out of my sight." He knew few in town and remembered only one young woman near his age. Madeline Ward. She'd been a few years younger than he, but he'd seen her in the settlement on trading days. Her father started blacksmithing at the post about the time Travis joined the Rangers. She'd be twenty-five by now and probably had half a dozen kids, so Travis saw no problem in fulfilling his one duty of keeping an eye on Sage.
His sister had a death grip on his arm as they walked into the barn. "Take it easy," Travis whispered. He thought of adding that it was just a dance, but he guessed she might get violent. Apparently, this was her grand crusade.
Suddenly she smiled and let go of his arm. He watched as she ran to a circle of young people about her age who'd gathered near the fiddler's stand. They all hugged and squealed, welcoming her into their group.
Unlike her brothers, Sage had attended the little school in Mrs. Dickerson's kitchen after Teagen turned eighteen and it was safe for the McMurrays to leave their ranch. School ran three days a week every fall and spring. If the weather turned bad, the girls spent the night in the widow's parlor, and the boys took the loft in her barn. Ten families were each responsible for a month of provisions and wood for the widow, in exchange for the schooling and occasional lodging of the students. Tobin had been thirteen when they'd rebuilt the bridge. He could have gone to school a few years, but either he thought he was too old or he feared people too much to bother. Travis and Teagen saw no point in trying to make their little brother leave the ranch, so only Sage attended.
Travis couldn't help but laugh as Sage hugged all her friends. He didn't call one person in this part of Texas friend, but his kid sister had more than she could talk to.
Moving into the shadows, he watched her. He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if his father and mother had lived and the McMurray boys had been allowed to grow up a little at a time. Maybe Teagen wouldn't be so angry. Maybe Tobin would talk to people. Maybe he wouldn't feel the need to look be
hind himself so often.
Travis took a step backward, hoping to go unnoticed, and slammed into something soft and alive.
"Beg your…" he started as he turned to find a woman, no taller than his shoulder, standing behind him.
Fiery green eyes glared up at him. "Almost killed me, ye did!" She swore, using words he'd never heard come out of a woman's mouth. "If ye'd hit me any harder, I'd be dead on the spot." She rubbed her hands across her body as if checking for broken bones. "Ye make a habit of backing about in the dark?"
He couldn't hide his grin as Ireland flavored her every word. He wasn't surprised when the hood of her navy cape slipped slightly to reveal red curls.
"I'm sorry. I didn't expect anyone to be standing so close behind me." He removed his hat and tried to focus enough in the darkness to see her face.
She was small, maybe an inch or two shorter than Sage, and except for a colorful scarf at her throat, covered in dark blue wool. He couldn't help thinking that she would blend almost perfectly with a midnight sky. Still, how could she have gotten so close without him hearing her?
"I wasn't standing behind ye." She smoothed her hands down her coat and tugged up the hood, almost disappearing into the shadows. "I was hiding, and I'll thank ye to turn around and go about yer business so I can get back to mine. As far as I'm concerned, ye're a tree growing here in this barn, and I've nothing to say to ye."
Travis didn't budge. " 'Tis sorry, I am." He echoed her accent. "When did hiding become a business?"
Silently she stared at him as if she thought him slow-witted.
"Mind telling me why you feel the need for such an occupation?" he asked. Most of her face might be in shadow, but he found himself dying to see what she looked like.
She rolled her beautiful green eyes. "Now, sir, if I was hiding, it should be logical that I'd be doing it so I won't have to talk. Turn around before I have to get rough with ye."
Travis slowly followed orders deciding that this dance might not be as boring as he'd thought. Sage was obviously having a great time talking to friends, and he had someone of interest to watch.
When he glanced back, she'd vanished as quickly as she'd appeared. He was surprised how disappointed he felt. He watched the crowd, seeing a few faces he recognized, but none with green eyes.
The Widow Dickerson came over after half an hour of dancing with every old man she could talk into taking her around the floor. She was actively looking for husband number three. Since she had a drink in her hand and he was half her age, Travis thought he would be safe talking to her without having to dance.
"Evening, Mrs. Dickerson."
"Evening, Travis. It's good to see you home." She had a way of moving her head back and forth like a clock's pendulum when she talked. A habit that must drive her pupils crazy. "I saw your brothers at the trading post a few months ago, and they said you were overdue for a visit."
"Yes," he nodded, not surprised she asked about him, for Mrs. Dickerson tried her best to keep up with everyone.
She smiled and waited.
That was it, he thought, the entire scope of his conversation skills.
"Nice dance," she said, as if coaching him.
"Yes," he answered, trying to think of another word to say. "Lots of new folks."
She nodded. "True, but several are with the wagons heading north in the morning. They only stayed this long because of the dance. Won't be much fun where they are headed."
"Oh." He frowned trying to think of more than one-word answers.
Mrs. Dickerson didn't seem to notice. "Last I heard, Elmo is looking for someone to take them farther upriver, but everyone knows it's not safe much past Fort Graham."
Travis nodded. He tried to listen, but he'd caught a glimpse of color, no more than a scarf, slip through the side door. The woman he'd stepped on was leaving. He felt a pull to follow her. One touch, one look. He hadn't even seen her whole face, yet he almost ran for the door.
"If you had time, you could take them." Mrs. Dickerson nodded as if she'd solved the homesteaders' problem. "Sage tells me you've been all over Texas."
Travis forced himself to pay attention to the old teacher. He didn't want to spend the first break he'd had in two years taking farmers north as she suggested. They always seemed to buy land just beyond where the forts could protect them. The warring tribes in the top half of the state weren't like those in the south. He'd seen enough burned homesteads already. Texas had plenty of outlaws and rustlers in the south to keep him busy. He didn't need to go north.
He glanced once more at the door, wondering what the little lady he'd stepped on would do if he followed her.
Mrs. Dickerson spotted Homer Carter and patted Travis's arm. Once more Travis forced himself to stop daydreaming.
He stared in the direction the teacher was looking and noticed Homer. The man had cleaned up since the last time Travis saw him, but his face still looked like leather.
The schoolteacher handed Travis her mug and waved goodbye as she hurried to trap her next dance partner.
He sat the mug down and glanced in Sage's direction. She looked like she was saying yes to a dance with a lean cowhand. He appeared more boy than man, but Travis didn't miss that he still wore his gun belt even though Elmo had asked everyone to check guns at the door. Most men removed belt and all, but this kid wanted everyone at the dance to know he wore a weapon.
Travis shook his head. He didn't like the fellow already. In fact, if he were guessing, he'd say Sage's new dance partner would never be man enough to marry his sister no matter how many weapons he showed off. Travis debated pulling him aside and filling him in on that fact when he finished dancing. After all, if his faults were so obvious from half a barn away, Travis would be doing him a favor by letting him know he didn't have a chance.
It's just a dance, Travis reminded himself. He couldn't find fault with all his sister's dance partners, even if it did appear easy to do so.
As the music started, he took a deep breath and moved to the side door. Maybe he'd better get some air. Being a big brother was hard work. He told himself his action had nothing to do with green eyes.
Once outside, he looked around for the woman who'd stood behind him. He'd seen her leave, but not return. So, unless she'd turned in, she must be somewhere outside hiding as she'd done all night.
There were enough campfires around that he should at least be able to spot her shadow if she were moving about. He told himself he wasn't really interested in talking to her, but he might ask about her health. After all, he could have hurt her when he'd stepped on her. Travis vaguely remembered the feel of her foot beneath his boot heel when he'd moved backward. And something soft had brushed his arm as he'd twisted around. He closed his eyes. He shouldn't be thinking about what part of her body had felt so soft.
Travis circled the yard. A few mothers were putting their children to bed in bedrolls beneath the wagons. Their lullabies blended with the music from the barn. An old woman rocked in a chair on the porch of one of the new little houses that had been built beside the trading post. Her head was back, her eyes closed. He couldn't tell if she was listening to the music or sleeping. In the tall grass by the barn door, two young girls sat catching fireflies and giggling.
Travis moved into the shadows, watching and hoping he wouldn't step on the little woman again. Coming to a dance, then trying to hide, seemed a little peculiar. He smiled realizing that was pretty much what he'd been doing.
When he reached the line of horses tied to a long rope,, he spotted someone moving among them. Most of the folks who'd ridden in had taken time to unsaddle their mounts, but a few hadn't bothered. Travis shook his head. He could almost hear his little brother Tobin complaining. Tobin loved horses more than any man alive. He wouldn't have understood why they hadn't taken time to remove their saddles.
Travis recognized the shadow in blue creeping down the line. He moved closer, making sure she couldn't see him following.
He passed the first mount and no
ticed the reins had come loose from the rope. Knotting them firmly, he moved to the next. Untied. He looped the leather back to the rope and followed the shadow. She might be just playing a joke… making tired cowhands chase their horses after they'd danced all night.
Or she might be playing an old trick that was no joke. First untie, then spook a group of horses. When they scattered in different directions, it wouldn't be hard to guide one away and be gone before the cowhands realized they hadn't rounded up every mount. A dance like this would be an easy place to steal a mount.
If that was her game, the little lady was about to break the law, and his time off was over.
He slipped the Texas Ranger badge from his pocket and pinned it to his shirt. Time to go to work. As he pulled his jacket over the badge, he hoped he wouldn't have to arrest anyone tonight. Especially not someone with green eyes. He'd already seen them angry; he didn't want to see hate in them as well.
As he tied the last few horses back in place, he watched her run toward the barn. She didn't look back, but made a wide circle around a group of men heading out of the dance. Her cape flew around her like wings, making him smile. His father used to tell stories of Ireland and how fairies lived in the woods. Travis had asked him once if he'd brought a fairy with him to Texas, and his father had frowned. "No, son," he'd said. "There's no room for fairies in Texas."
Travis watched the little woman disappear near the barn. Maybe his father had been wrong.
CHAPTER 3
Rainey Adams mumbled an oath as she watched the group of young cowhands head out of the dance. They joked with one another as they ambled toward the stack of saddles and gear they'd left piled several feet from the horse line. She'd seen the behavior before. Men in groups left a party for one of two things. Smoking or drinking. These boys were probably building up their courage to ask a girl to dance. By the end of the evening, several would have failed in their quest and would turn their efforts toward fighting to reestablish their manhood.
