That afternoon his face felt hot, and he stretched out on the bench half asleep. His clouded mind rambled aimlessly back over the years, and he saw Morelos engulfed in the smoke of battle. He saw William Roark and other friends, who smiled and shook hands with him. Then Louiza Jane appeared, wearing her favorite dress, and his pulse quickened. She beckoned to him, and he saw that her expression was sad. “Papa,” she pleaded, “please come home. I want to be with you.”
“I’ll come!” he said aloud, and sat up, feeling a wave of energy sweep over his wasted body. He looked around for Louiza Jane, wondering where she’d gone. I must go to her now, he thought, while I still can. He walked firmly into the big house.
“Tomorrow I’m goin’ to Texas to see Louiza Jane,” he told the startled Magdalena. “She wants me with her, and I’m feeling pretty good.”
Magdalena stared in amazement at his flushed face and feverishly bright eyes. Then she quickly lowered her gaze to conceal the terror that gripped her like icy fingers around her throat, for she knew Louiza Jane was dead. She anxiously hovered over him, fighting back her tears, until he fell into bed. Despite her desperate prayers and loving attention, that night, as she feared, Ellis closed his tired eyes for the last time.
Gone to Texas (An Evans Novel of the West) Page 22
