Mr. Cassidy returned, and Thomas asked, “What is the time?”
“It is nine in the morning.”
Ignoring the teller’s curious expression, Thomas replied to her comment. “Someone will be here by nightfall.”
“That soon? You’re that sure?”
“Very sure. The captain will not let me down.”
“That’ll be three bits, sir.”
Pulling out the correct amount, Thomas nodded his thanks before holding out his elbow again. Laurel had been prepared to pay for the wire, but Thomas said the captain sent a little money to go along with the new clothes.
Laurel waited until they exited the building before commenting. But once they were standing on the hot sidewalk, she stared at him in wonder.
“Inside, when you talked about how quickly help would come . . .”
“Yes?”
“Were you making a jest, or were you serious?”
“I’m always serious about Captain Monroe.”
“But if he’s in Galveston . . . plus he’s got to ride all the way here. And make preparations.”
“He will leave within the hour once he receives my message. He’ll also take the time to contact the other three men in our unit. They’ll come as well, and some of them are no doubt closer.”
Thomas’s expression was sure. His voice was sure. She saw no doubt in his face. He actually believed these other men would rush to his side.
She couldn’t imagine such a response.
Besides her parents, had anyone ever dropped everything to help her?
With a start, she realized someone already had. Thomas had placed his body over hers. He’d been willing to be hurt or killed to keep her safe. Now he’d even swallowed his pride and asked for help.
“I’m beginning to think this band of brothers of yours is an impressive group.”
He laughed as they walked back toward the mercantile. “You will see for yourself when you meet them.”
Opening the door to the mercantile, he said, “Get what you need to feed four or five men.”
Laurel didn’t question his request. She was beginning to think that whatever Thomas wanted to happen would.
As she mentally reviewed her own kitchen’s supply of dry goods, she opted to purchase coffee, some dried black-eyed peas, and cornmeal. She had enough flour, beans, leavening, and sugar to make most anything else the men might need.
After telling the clerk what she wanted, she went to check on Thomas, who was looking at a box of ammunition and a very fine-looking Colt.
Just as she approached him, he looked over her shoulder and narrowed his eyes.
Quickly, she turned.
There was Foster Howell, one of the guards who had come to the ranch with the prisoners. He was eyeing Thomas with a look of suspicion and glanced at her with a small smile.
She felt uncomfortable but decided to brazen it out. “Hello, Mr. Howell.”
“Miss Tracey. Good morning.” His gaze swept over her, making her feel strangely exposed. Then he smiled. “I see you are out with your man.”
She didn’t like anything about his greeting. She didn’t like how he was making her feel or how he was acting as if Thomas weren’t worthy enough to be standing by her side.
Just as she was debating whether to tell Howell off, Thomas leaned closer. Placing a hand on the small of her back, he whispered into her ear, “Don’t say a word. He ain’t worth a bit of your time.”
Unfortunately, the former guard heard his comment. “I’d watch who you’re calling unworthy.”
Thomas stared at Howell with a look that could only be described as loathing. “Did you need something? If so, you need to direct your questions to me.”
“To you?”
Thomas seemed to let the man’s scorn roll off his shoulders. Standing up straight and tall, at least a full three inches taller than his former guard, Thomas said, “There isn’t a reason in the world for Miss Tracey to ever have to converse with you again.”
Howell’s gaze darted from Thomas to Laurel and back again. Laurel felt a trickle of perspiration slide down her spine. Was this how it was going to be for the next year? Everyone coming into her path and feeling free to judge her?
Howell rocked back on the heels of his boots. “I was only checking to see how Miss Tracey is doing, living in sin with the likes of you.” He smirked. “How are you, miss? Is he treating you good?”
Thomas stepped closer to her when she flinched.
“Her welfare is no concern of yours,” he said. “This is the last time I’ll warn you. Don’t speak to her again.”
Howell backed up but didn’t look completely cowed. “I can’t wait to see you get your comeuppance, Baker. And you will, I promise.”
“Do you know something I don’t know?” Thomas asked.
“I know a lot you don’t know. But I’m thinking most people do.” Before Thomas could respond, he smirked again. “I’ll be going on my way now.” He stepped backward, then paused before turning around. “Miss Tracey, if this one lays a hand on you, you be sure and let me know. It would give me pleasure to get him back in line.”
Though her brain was telling her to say something and stand up for herself, Laurel couldn’t seem to make either her feet or her mouth comply. Therefore, she simply stood frozen and wished she was bolder.
Feeling the other customers’ curious stares, she drew in a ragged sigh. “We’re causing a scene. It’s time we left.”
But instead of dropping his hand and stepping away, Thomas bent his head a little so she could see his eyes. “We haven’t done a single thing wrong,” he said quietly. “We’re simply shopping in the mercantile. There ain’t a thing irregular about that.”
“People think differently.”
“It doesn’t matter. Don’t dwell on it.”
“I hate that Howell looked at you the way he did, as if you are less than him.”
“Honey, trust me when I say his scowl didn’t bother me none. I’ve had far worse directed my way.”
She smiled, though she knew her effort was likely more than a little wobbly. “I don’t know how you managed to make me feel better, but you did.”
Stepping to her side, he held out his arm. “That’s because I’m a charmer, Miss Tracey.”
His irreverent comment sparked one of her own. “You are incorrigible.”
“Yes, I am.” Pressing a hand to the middle of her back again, he murmured, “Come now, let’s go inform Sheriff Jackson of the latest developments, then head back home.”
Since she, too, was ready to end their visit to town, she followed him to the counter to buy her supplies.
Thomas seemed to be making a purchase as well.
24
BY FOUR IN THE AFTERNOON, THOMAS KNEW HIS NERVES were shot. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d gazed out toward the horizon, hoping to see a cloud of dust signifying that his friends were on the way.
He only hoped Laurel was handling the wait better than he was.
After they’d finished their shopping at the mercantile, Thomas loaded everything into the buggy, then got Laurel right home. Though he’d tried to pretend otherwise, the townspeople’s curious, intrusive stares had bothered him. He also despised having to stand still and watch Howell leer at Laurel.
But what he hated even more was that he was the cause of all that. If Laurel hadn’t taken a chance and gotten him out of that cage, he’d still be in jail. And though a better man might be thinking only about how such a kind woman felt, he had hated seeing the man who’d beat him so badly look at him with disdain.
After they returned, he took care of the buggy and Velvet, then saddled Yellow and rode around the house’s perimeter. Laurel was still too shaken up for him to feel comfortable leaving her to check out the far areas of her property. To be honest, he didn’t feel all that good about being out of sight either. Someone was watching her, watching them, and he wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted.
Just as h
e directed Yellow to head back home, Thomas saw some hoofprints on the ground and what looked like a skid from either a foot or a knapsack.
Climbing off the saddle, he knelt down and inspected the area. Rocks were disturbed.
Someone had definitely been here recently, and they’d taken care to keep their appearance a secret. Had it been those squatters and they simply wanted a piece of Laurel’s land? Picking up one of the rocks, he saw a dark stain. Or had his shot yesterday met its mark? He hoped so.
While he was debating whether to circle back around or go back and stay closer to Laurel, Yellow raised his head and pricked his ears forward.
“What is it, boy?” Thomas murmured as he got to his feet.
Yellow pawed the ground with a hoof. He looked uneasy but was waiting for Thomas to give direction.
As he ran a hand down the horse’s flank, Thomas shook his head. Whoever named the horse hadn’t known a thing about him. This gelding was exactly what every soldier needed—steady and responsive. A partner.
Grasping the reins, he listened harder.
And then he heard it. The faint rumbling of hooves. Had one of his comrades arrived? Or was it the men who’d shot at them yesterday?
Directing the horse around, Thomas felt behind him for the Winchester that had belonged to Laurel’s father. He wasn’t eager to start pointing a rifle at approaching riders on Laurel’s property, but he was far from a greenhorn. There was no way he was going to allow himself to ever be at risk again. Clicking softly, he nudged Yellow forward with his knees.
Yellow seemed to sense his suspicion, because the horse slowly stepped out into the clearing, each hoof moving delicately and silently. It was as if he’d had as much experience dodging the enemy as Thomas had when he’d been asked to spy on enemy troops in the area.
Squinting against the hot glare of the sun, which had barely begun its descent in the west, Thomas found what he was looking for.
Two riders.
From force of habit more than a real awareness of what he was doing, Thomas grabbed the rifle and laid it across his lap.
Yellow continued to patiently step forward, each step slow and measured. They were in a clearing of sorts. It was obvious that he was as visible to the men riding forward as they were to him. And they weren’t shooting.
Now, if he could only figure out who was approaching. Old memories of riding along with his friends slammed into his brain but dissipated with almost as much force. The problem, he knew, was those memories of the men on horseback had faded. Most of Thomas’s memories of Major Kelly, Captain Monroe, and the other two men rested firmly on the soil of Johnson’s Island. He could recognize their voices and even how they rolled a cheroot or held a tin cup better than the way they were seated on a horse.
Drawing Yellow to a stop, he watched the riders come closer. Unlike him, they were moving across the open field at an easy clip. Then one raised his hand, and Thomas saw a hint of a sparkle on the man’s cuff.
Unable to hide his relief, he laughed. Enemies weren’t approaching. His friends had arrived.
He reckoned there was only one man in the state of Texas who would ride into a potential battle zone with gold cuff links on his wrists, and that would be Major Ethan Kelly. The man came from money, and had never been particularly shy about it either.
He wasn’t sure who the other fellow was, but it didn’t matter. If Kelly was here, Thomas knew everything had just made a turn for the better.
Nudging Yellow forward to a brisk trot, he rode out to greet them, a smile on his face.
When he was about a hundred yards out, he called, “Welcome!”
Major Kelly pulled his dark-gray Stetson from the top of his head and held it out in greeting. “Baker, after the things we heard about you in town, the last thing I expected to see was you riding along on a fine-looking palomino like you were out for a Sunday stroll.”
“There’s a story there, I bet,” the major’s companion said, who Thomas now realized was Robert Truax.
When they drew to a stop in front of each other, Yellow’s nostrils blowing air out impatiently as he tried to get a sense of the other horses, Thomas held out a hand. “Robert, Ethan, you two are a sight for sore eyes.”
The major clasped his hand, his brown eyes lighting on him as though he was inspecting every new wrinkle and scar on his face. “I can’t wait to hear what’s been going on.”
“From what Monroe said, it sounds like you should have called for us a whole lot sooner,” Robert said, his voice lightly chiding. “Were you really locked up in this town’s jail?”
“I was.”
Robert frowned. “Someone told me you’d been whipped too. Was that a lie?”
“It was not.”
Robert looked toward the sky, like he was asking the Almighty for patience. “It pains me to hear that. You really should have reached out to us earlier, Sergeant.”
“I had my reasons for not contacting you.”
“I would certainly like to hear them!”
“At a later date, perhaps.”
“Well, why did you contact us?” Robert asked impatiently.
Thomas opened his mouth to try to describe Laurel’s problems in a nutshell, but the words stuck in his throat. How could he attempt to convey Laurel’s situation without the men guessing how much she meant to him?
Looking for help, he turned to face the house. Laurel was standing on the front porch watching them. Her hands were clasped in front of her. “I’ll tell you more when we get to the house.”
Both men turned to stare at the large home with its Southern grace and five majestic white columns. Major Kelly whistled low. “Ah, now I understand,” he said. Smiling softly, he said, “Robert, I do believe I’m beginning to see what, exactly, is at stake.”
“Indeed,” Robert said, his voice thick with humor.
Noticing their looks of appreciation, Thomas hardened his voice. “No matter what you might think of me, you gentlemen need to be respectful. Miss Laurel Tracey is a lady through and through.”
Major Kelly adjusted his Stetson, his gold cuff links glinting. Turning to Thomas, his expression filled with respect, he said, “Of course she is, Baker. Forgive me if I gave you the impression I thought otherwise. Now, lead on.”
Just as he turned toward the house, Thomas asked the question that had been on his mind. “Is Captain Monroe coming too?”
“He is,” Robert said. “I happened to be in Waco when he got your wire in Galveston. I fully expect him by nightfall. I believe he was going to take the train partway. He pulled some favors and got a compartment on the first one out.”
“I am obliged.”
“You call and we come,” Ethan Kelly said as he encouraged his mount to a trot.
“Though I had expected as much, I have to admit that it’s nice to realize that my hopes were not vanquished.”
“Never fear. Some promises will never be forgotten.”
The major had never said anything truer. He was exactly right. Some promises would always be fulfilled, no matter what the cost. Come hell or high water.
“Thank you, sir. Thanks to both of you.”
“Don’t mention it again,” Robert said. “It’s an honor to help a friend in need.”
And with that, the three of them headed to the woman who was waiting for them.
To the place Thomas now considered home.
25
Johnson’s Island, Ohio
Confederate States of America Officers POW Camp
JOHNSON’S ISLAND HAD ONE THING THOMAS WAS FOND OF, and that was lightning bugs. From the moment they made their first appearances on the Lake Erie shore at the end of May, the bugs had become a source of fascination for Thomas. He spent a great many hours watching their flickering lights dance across the camp and light up over the calm waters as though they were stars falling from the sky.
Their dancing and darting had become a source of hope for him. Thomas liked to think their appearance in his life was a sign f
rom God, a reminder that good could be found anywhere and at any time. One just needed to have his eyes open and be watchful.
“Looking at the fireflies again?” Major Kelly asked as he sat down on the ground beside him.
Though he was a bit self-conscious about it, Thomas nodded. “Yeah.” Thinking he needed to share some kind of explanation for his infatuation, he added, “I ain’t never seen them before here.”
Kelly smiled softly as he watched the insects flicker and flutter across the field next to him. “I hadn’t seen them before I signed up. Don’t know why they aren’t in Texas, but I guess we can’t have everything.”
“Just fire ants and hornets.”
“And roaches the size of men’s hands.” Grimacing dramatically, he said, “I’d be happy to trade the roaches of San Antonio for these little things.”
Thomas grinned, liking the easy conversation. In many ways, he was closest to the major, though they sure didn’t have much in common. Major Kelly was from a well-to-do family outside of San Antonio. He’d gone to the military academy and was book smart. He had money and was rather eloquent. Rumor had it that he was also the son of a well-respected man who was serving with Lee himself. The major never spoke of his father, though.
In short, he was rich, educated, and well connected. Thomas Baker was none of those things.
However, something about Ethan Kelly was a little flawed, which made him—by Thomas’s estimation, at least—far easier to relate to than Captain Monroe. Their captain was the best man he’d ever met. Thomas looked up to him like none other. But the major, though he was higher in rank, hadn’t garnered quite so sterling a reputation. He had to be told things, often hesitated when he needed to charge forward, and was sometimes a bit indolent.
If the world was fair, then Captain Monroe should have outranked Major Kelly. Actually, the captain should have been a colonel or a general, someone really important.
But the world wasn’t fair, and neither was the military.
However, the reason no one begrudged the major his rank or his authority was that he was just so darn likable. He often blurted out loud what the enlisted men were thinking but were too afraid of facing discipline to say.
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