Texas Love Song

by Jodi Thomas

  McCall lifted the rifle from just inside the door and held it against her shirt. “Then neither am I.” She took a step toward him.

  He looked at her with his mouth already open to argue. This was no game. If he had the time he’d drag her into the house and demand she stay safely out of sight. But they were coming, and she was standing beside him with that “I’m going to do it my way” look about her.

  Suddenly all the anger left him. He realized what her action was telling him and the world. She would stand at his side even till death.

  “Go,” he said softly, wishing he could hold her. “I don’t want you hurt.”

  “But…” His gentleness left her speechless. She’d prepared for a battle and he offered none.

  “You’ve nothing you have to prove to me by getting killed.” His words were just above the sound of riders nearing. “I could love you no more.”

  McCall stared at him. He’d never said he loved her, only that he wanted and needed her.

  “Go inside, darling.”

  McCall turned toward the door just as the men on horseback raised their guns.

  In one twinkling of light off the rifle’s barrel, the entire world seemed to splinter.

  Bull Willis fired.

  Sloan and Starkie returned the volley with reflex actions finely polished by war.

  And McCall cried out and crumpled at Sloan’s side, blood splattering across her blouse.

  The other riders pulled up as if unprepared for the fire they encountered. Only Bull kept firing. Sloan’s bullet wounded the rider on Bull’s left. Starkie’s rifle dropped another man to the ground. Lacy and Miss Alyce’s rapid fire from the upstairs windows hit nothing but provided a cover for Sloan as the riders fired shots in retreat. Bull was forced to follow or stand alone.

  Sloan holstered his empty Colt and dropped to his knee. “McCall!”

  She didn’t move.

  With no concern for the battle, he lifted her in his arms. Cuddling her close against his heart, he hurried into the house. He held her tightly, screaming her name if only in his mind.

  She didn’t move or make a sound as crimson spread across white starched cotton.

  Twenty-eight

  “CLEAR THE TABLE!” Alyce ordered. “Lacy, get water on to boil! Sloan, press your palm over that wound.”

  For an aging woman, Alyce Wren moved faster than a child. They’d left Starkie on watch in case the men made another attack, and now all that mattered was McCall.

  “She’s so white,” Sloan said as her blood seeped through his fingers. “Do something, Alyce!”

  “I am.” Alyce pulled on an apron and scrubbed her hands. “I helped bring that child into this world, and she’s not going out while I’m still alive. I promised her grandfather I’d keep an eye on her, and I plan to until she has to bury me.”

  Lacy was crying as she followed Alyce’s orders. She brought towels, built up the fire, covered the kitchen table with a clean sheet, all the while mumbling about how this never should have happened to Mrs. Harrison.

  “Hush, woman!” Alyce yelled louder than Lacy cried. “You’re starting to bother me.”

  Alyce worked, adding crane’s bill root to a mixture as she instructed Lacy to get the scissors and cut the blouse away from the bloody shoulder.

  “It looks too high to have hit her heart,” Alyce said as she mixed first one bag then another into her boiling pot. “If we’re lucky, the bullet will have missed her lung as well.”

  “I can’t,” Lacy shook as she held the scissors a few inches from McCall. “I’m afraid I’ll cut her.”

  Sloan lifted his bloody hand only a moment as he ripped the blouse away with one jerk. Blood covered her shoulder and soaked into the lace of her camisole. He shoved the strap of her undergarment aside as he’d done hours before in loving, only now his thoughts were of keeping her alive.

  “Put her on the table and sit at her head. If she comes to while I’m working, you’ll have to hold her down.” Alyce looked straight at Sloan. “Can you do that, no matter what?”

  “I can,” he answered. He’d seen enough wounds to know what Alyce was asking. He’d seen grown men beg to be left to die before a surgeon was through with them.

  Lacy stood in the corner with her eyes covered as Alyce Wren worked. Sloan buried his head against McCall’s hair while his hands bruised her arms with his hold.

  She struggled in pain but his hold never loosened. Mumbling, crying out, she fought to free herself from the point of the blade. Alyce never hesitated. She did what she had to do, cutting flesh away enough to pull the bullet out clean. McCall stiffened in pain and fainted, escaping into darkness.

  Blood covered McCall’s torn blouse, Sloan’s hands, Alyce’s apron. When she came to, he held her tightly as he whispered into her ear. His voice reached her and she stopped struggling, accepting the agony stiffly without moving.

  Finally, the old woman raised her head and nodded slightly, indicating it was over. “Bring me the boiled water now.”

  Lacy moved to follow orders, her hands shaking as she splashed water toward the table.

  Alyce dipped a cloth into the water and cleaned the wound, then packed it closed with the mixture of herbs and powdered roots to prevent an infection. McCall relaxed against Sloan’s arm as the pain seemed to ease.

  As she wrapped the shoulder, Alyce ordered Lacy to mix crushed violet into her strong tea to hold back the fever. Sloan cradled McCall on his lap as Alyce forced the liquid down her throat.

  When the cup was empty, Alyce took a deep breath and relaxed slightly. “I’ve done all I can do. Take her upstairs. She’ll rest for a while and then we’ll see.” A wrinkled hand tenderly pushed a strand of McCall’s hair from her face.

  Sloan lifted her gently. Her blouse was little more than a bloody rag. Her shoulder was now wrapped in the white bandage. McCall’s arms were bruised by his hold. Her hair was stained with blood.

  As he carried her to her room, one thought drummed in his mind, drowning all else. All of this was his fault. She’d wanted to stand with him and he’d told her to leave. He’d watched her move to safety, but she’d turned toward him a moment before the bullet struck. If she hadn’t been on the porch? If she hadn’t turned? She might not have taken the bullet meant for him.

  She’d made it all through the war without a scratch and now she’d be forever scarred. All because of him.

  Lacy met him at the door to McCall’s room. “I turned down her bed,” she said as she stepped aside and wiped her wet face with one of the kitchen towels.

  “Stay with her.” Sloan laid her down on the covers. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His fingers lightly brushed the bandage. “No scar can ever shatter the perfection of her.” He leaned and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

  Sloan took the stairs two at a time as he reloaded his guns without slowing. He found Starkie still on the porch, watching, but the day was quiet, as though nothing had happened in this place for a hundred years.

  “I’m going after them,” Sloan said with the coldness of a killer. “Can you watch the house?”

  “That I can,” Starkie answered. “But you’ve no reason to move. They’ll find you soon enough.”

  “I’ll stay within the sound of a rifle. Fire once should they return, and I’ll be riding fast for home. But I can’t just wait for them to come.”

  “Your best chance is here, not in the open.”

  “I don’t need any chance. All I need is one clear shot at Bull. I’m through with running and waiting.”

  Sloan hurried across the yard to the barn, and a minute later he rode out at a speed not even McCall could have matched.

  Hours passed, but Sloan never slowed. He crossed the land searching. He found the trail of two of the four riders who’d escaped. He knew he was headed right because one rider left a trail of blood.

  When he crossed a stream an hour later, he finally saw the two men. One was leaning over the other, trying to wash
the wound. They didn’t hear Sloan until his Colt had cleared leather.

  “Stand back!” Sloan ordered so he could see both men’s hands. “Where’s Bull?”

  The man on his knees raised his hands. “Don’t shoot, mister. It’s over for me.”

  Sloan moved closer without lowering his weapon. “I asked where Bull was.”

  “We didn’t know he was going to shoot the woman. If we’d known that we never would have gone with him. Bull told us he was just going to talk to her.” The stranger looked frightened and sorry as only men do who face the barrel end of a gun.

  Without moving his aim, Sloan studied the area for any sign of someone watching.

  “Bull said we was going to get us a yellow-belly. But you ain’t that for sure, mister, the way you stood on that porch facing us head-on.” The man was almost crying. “I’m real sorry, and my partner’s dead for our foolishness. We shouldn’t have listened to Bull. He’s half crazy. But he’s a big talker.”

  “Where is he?” Sloan asked, his first finger a fraction of a pull away from killing the man.

  “He turned back a few hours ago. He said he wasn’t in the habit of leaving a job unfinished.”

  Sloan fired an inch away from the strangers’ horses. They bolted and ran. “Don’t let me ever see you in this county again.”

  “Don’t worry,” the man mumbled as he stood. “I’m leaving the state.”

  Sloan didn’t look back as he ran for his horse among the trees and rode toward home.

  It was almost midnight when he reached the house. He could see Starkie lighting his pipe as he rode in. All must still be peaceful. Sloan took a long breath and felt his body relax for the first time since the shooting began.

  “All’s quiet. McCall’s been sleeping most of the day away.” Starkie helped him with the mount. “Have any luck fishing?”

  “Some,” Sloan answered, “but one got away.”

  Starkie nodded in understanding. “Lacy’s kept supper for you. Lordie, can that woman cook. I’m thinking of courting her after this is over. If I can’t die fighting, I might as well find a woman who can cook and die in bed of old age.”

  Sloan smiled at the big man. He and Lacy made sense. “I’ll check on McCall, then relieve you for a watch.”

  Starkie patted him on the back. “Your lady’s going to be all right.”

  Sloan didn’t answer as he entered the house and took the stairs with no regard for anyone sleeping. He had to see McCall. The need to be with her had pulsed through him all day.

  The door to her room was slightly open and the lamp was turned low. He pushed the door gently with his boot as he tried to dust some of the dirt off himself. She’d be all clean in a white lace nightgown and he looked like he’d been rolling in mud.

  Miss Alyce sat in the rocker with her back to him. McCall lay in bed, the covers almost completely covering her.

  He moved as silently as he could to her side and knelt between the rocker and the bed. Slowly, he lifted the covers off her face.

  Terrified eyes met his.

  Sloan pulled the covers down. She was tied and gagged! He glanced at Alyce Wren. The old woman’s hands were tied to the rocker. Her face was stone as she stared into the darkest corner of the room.

  A panic like he’d never known climbed up Sloan’s spine.

  “Welcome,” Bull’s voice sounded from the shadows. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Moving slightly, Sloan watched the man materialize. His worst nightmare was flesh.

  “Don’t try it!” Bull stepped into the circle of light. “If you reach for your guns, I might not get but one shot. I promise you it’ll be at this pretty little woman of yours.”

  Sloan eased his hands to the covers, laying them in plain sight as he stood.

  Pure evil seemed to poison the air as Bull moved closer. “I couldn’t keep her quiet so I had to gag her. The old woman had a little more sense. It seems all I have to do around here is threaten to shoot your lady and you both cooperate.”

  “How’d you get in?” Sloan didn’t want to think that he may have already killed Lacy.

  “I just waited for the big man to get interested in his supper. While he and the cook were on the porch, it was easy to come up the back stairs.”

  Bull waved toward the door with his gun. “I’ve no wish to kill them unless they get in my way. Or the old woman, for that matter. But I would like your lady to see you die and know that she’ll be joining you. There’s nothing like the terror in a woman’s eyes when she watches her man fall in his own blood. After meeting you two on the prairie, I figure you belong together.”

  Sloan stood slowly. “Kill me,” he said without hesitation. “Cut my heart out just like you said you would.” He opened his hands, brushing Alyce’s rocker, “But let the women alone. They’re not part of what’s between us.”

  Bull laughed. “It’s not what’s between us anymore. I’ve forgotten all about threats I made in the prison. So have the others, if they’re still alive. But during the war I discovered something about myself. It’s fascinating to watch a man die. It’s a game I can’t seem to deal myself out of playing. I convinced the fools with me that it was for a nobler cause, but just between you and me, I’ve grown to like the sight of death’s eyes looking back at me. I love the power of sending a man to his Maker.

  “During the war I was a hero for what I did. Killing gets me excited.” He smiled at McCall. A smile of lust excited by promised pain. “That’s why I’ll kill your wife second. After I’m finished with her. I haven’t had a woman in a long while and she looks like she’ll be fighting all the way to the end. Too bad I won’t be able to ungag her and listen to her scream.”

  Sloan glanced down at Alyce by his side. The old woman looked at her lap.

  “Don’t hurt her because of me.” Sloan moved an inch closer to the rocker. “I’ll let you kill me slowly. We can leave here so you can stake me out like you did the others in prison.”

  Bull almost giggled, enjoying the panic he heard in Sloan’s voice.

  “She’s just a woman. Don’t tempt me. I remember having fun in prison those nights. After dark the men would scream and scream before they died and no one would help them.”

  “I don’t care if I die.” Sloan pushed his leg against the rocker, testing the ease of movement. “But I can’t let you hurt her.”

  Bull took another look at McCall, trying to judge what made her so valuable to Sloan.

  It was the break Sloan had been waiting for. He grabbed the seat of the rocker and shoved hard toward the door as he pulled the revolver from beneath Alyce’s lap quilt.

  Alyce screamed as she rolled backward in a circle, tied to the chair. The rocker slammed against the door frame and she screamed louder.

  Bull turned his gun and fired wildly just as Sloan’s bullet exploded into his chest. Before he realized what had happened, another hit his middle. He crumpled like a huge paper doll.

  Running to McCall’s side, Sloan pulled her gently into his arms. He heard Starkie thundering up the steps and Lacy screaming just behind him. But all that mattered to Sloan was holding McCall close.

  Alyce’s chair blocked the door. For a moment it was a rush as Starkie tried to step over Miss Alyce and Lacy fought to untie the poor woman. Alyce screamed a stream of swear words in several languages, all directed at Sloan. But he wasn’t listening.

  He pulled the gag from McCall’s mouth and smiled down at her.

  “You almost got me killed!” Alyce Wren stormed at Sloan as she jerked ropes from her arms. “What kind of fool plan was that, using me as the diversion?”

  When she reached the bed, she stopped. Sloan paid no attention to her. He kissed McCall as if no one were in the room.

  “I’ve a few things to tell you later.” Miss Alyce pointed her finger and lowered her voice. “But if you ever do that to me again, I swear I’ll never tell you about any more of your babies coming until my McCall is well-rounded with child.”

  S
loan broke the kiss. “Babies? Old woman, you fell too hard on your head.”

  “McCall is going to have a child. I can feel it in my bones. And don’t think I won’t have plenty of advice for you then. You may be good enough for her now, but you’ve got a long way to go in the future. You need so much advice I may have to move in here to be able to give it all to you in time before the baby comes.”

  Starkie lifted the old woman as if she were an aging music box they couldn’t shut off. “Come along, Miss Alyce, we need to leave them alone for a while.” He set her out in the hall and rolled Bull’s body in a rug. “We’ll keep supper warm,” he said as he picked up the rug and left the room. “If ye get around to thinking about food.”

  Sloan looked down at McCall. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? For loving me? For being willing to die for me? For getting me with child?”

  “No.” Sloan laughed. “For not being back like I promised to let you fall asleep in my arms.”

  He kissed her lightly. “I should have told you before the trouble started how much you mean to me and that I loved you.”

  “I already knew. That’s why I turned back on the porch,” she whispered, “to tell you I love you also.”

  He closed his fingers over her hand. “Do you want me to hold you all night, darling?”

  “No,” she answered. “I want you to hold me every night for the rest of my life.”

  “And if I say no?” He lightly touched her cheek.

  “Then you’d better run fast, because I’ll have to track you down.”

  He spread his hand over her abdomen. “My running days are over. It’s time I made a stand.”

  Epilogue

  “EASY NOW, SLOAN,” McCall ordered. “You’re pulling too hard.”

  “Maybe it’s not time yet? Maybe we should wait a few hours?” Alyce Wren added from behind McCall. “There’s no hurrying nature.”

  Sloan glanced at his wife, then the old woman he’d given up hope on ever being quiet. He pulled the bandanna from his neck and began wrapping it around the unborn’s legs. “I’ve delivered a few before, you know,” he mumbled.