by Linda Broday
A talisman? This was the first she’d heard of it. Had she given Gracie a symbol of some kind? Why hadn’t Houston mentioned it?
“Evil!” The woman suddenly spat in English. “Keep safe.”
Lara watched fury fill Houston’s eyes and heard his low oath. Something told her this was what worried him deep down into the marrow of his bones. But was this all? Or did he hide many other things as well? The cold that had invaded her turned to ice.
How could she trust him when he kept secrets from her?
Fourteen
Houston stared after the medicine woman and child as they disappeared from sight after delivering one last message—that others would join the evil men and they’d make war. Well, they’d find him waiting. If a fight was what they wanted, that’s what he’d give the murdering bastards.
Lara grabbed Houston so hard he winced. “She was concerned about Gracie. Exactly what kind of talisman did the old woman give her? And why didn’t you tell me yesterday?” In her frantic need to know, her voice had risen shrilly.
In the face of Lara’s panic, he knew he had no choice. “Come. We need to talk.”
Once he’d seated her on a barrel, he took out the carved wolf and handed it to Lara. She stared at the red, carved wood. “This is supposed to ward off trouble,” he said. “Hell, I don’t know if it works but we won’t lose anything by trying it.”
“That explains why you stood guard over us all night.” She turned the charm over. “Please don’t keep things from me. Not even when you’re trying to protect me.”
Houston wiped his weary eyes. “I don’t want you to fret. Let me do the worrying—I’m real good at that. You have your hands full taking care of Gracie.”
“Promise to tell me if you see those men following today.” She grabbed his hands. “Promise me.”
“All right.” But he knew he wouldn’t. What good would it do to feed her fear more? Not a God-blessed thing.
Clay filled a tin cup with coffee and walked off a little ways. Houston saw him staring toward the south, looking for the riders. Darkness hadn’t yet given way to the dawn, so the effort was useless.
Lara went back to her breakfast chores and Houston got up and filled his cup with the hot brew. He wandered down to join Clay. “I’ve made up my mind.”
“What about, boss?” Clay looked fierce in the blackness, with that eye patch peeking from under the brim of his hat.
“I’m going to backtrack while you push the cattle forward. I’m going to see exactly who’s behind us.”
Clay met his eyes. “Need company?”
“Not yet. I think we should keep everything as normal as possible. I’m just going to look, not take any action.” Houston paused then ground out, “Unless they force my hand.”
His gaze lit on Henry as he cracked prairie chicken eggs, and he changed the subject. “Clay, I want you to find some small job for Henry when we leave here. Something that he won’t get hurt doing. I told Lara I would.” Houston didn’t like the frustration in the boy’s eyes. “Maybe he can help with the remuda. Just don’t let him do anything dangerous.”
“Be glad to. He’s a good kid.” Clay finished his coffee and poured the dregs onto the ground. “Better get this day started. Good luck. If I hear gunshots I’ll come runnin’.”
“Thanks.” Houston noticed Gracie wiggling around in her crib, Lara too busy to see to her. He set his coffee on the pull-down table of the chuck wagon. When he reached Gracie, she gave him that toothless grin that made his heart lurch. “Hey, Angel, how are you this fine morn?”
Houston picked her up and gave her a kiss. As usual, she was wet, so he grabbed the small blanket that was in the crib and wrapped it around her. She snuggled against him as though he were a soft pillow. It astounded him that she hardly ever cried. True, he had limited experience with babies, but he’d never seen one so pleasant. Not even when wet or hungry did she raise much of a fuss. A strange wish rose inside that he’d been her real father, heard her first cry, witnessed the first time she sat up, crawled, or smiled.
But he hadn’t and the missed milestones were all in the past, witnessed by her mother alone. He took heart in the fact that he’d be there for all the others. That would have to be enough.
Henry rang the cowbell and cowboys who weren’t already by the fire came running. Each had a word for Gracie, a tip of the hat and a smile for Lara, before filling their plates.
Houston looked them over. He had a good crew. Without them saying so, he knew they’d stand and fight to protect his family, each other, and the herd. Not one, young or old, would run when trouble came. They rode for the brand and would give their lives if need be.
God, he prayed he wouldn’t have to ask that of them.
Gracie seemed to sense his dark mood, for when she glanced up again there was no silly grin. Her blue eyes held solemn weight and she patted his leather vest with her little hand.
Houston pulled her up. “Okay now, none of that. You need to be happy and let me do the worrying.”
His daughter jabbered something and pointed in the direction they’d come. He wished he knew what she was saying, what went through that head of hers.
“It’s a sad day when a baby gives the orders around here,” Virgil said, grinning. Eggs, potatoes, salt pork, biscuits, and gravy loaded his plate to the brim. A mess of hot peppers sat on top of it all. The kid must have an iron stomach.
“Sometimes I think you’re right,” Houston agreed. “Her gibberish makes a whole lot more sense than I do most days.”
Clay laughed. “Maybe you can try that next, boss.”
Quaid Boone walked by. “We’re used to her laying down the law to us.”
Houston flashed him a grin. Hard work must be good for him. The young man had slimmed down some, he believed. Not that the size of his heaped plate was any indication of trying. Despite his light-brown hair, Quaid bore a remarkable resemblance to his sister. Both had expressive eyes and a determined chin. Virgil took more after his pa, with his quiet determination and steely stare. The brothers still had some growing to do, but Houston could see the makings of fine men.
Lara came forward. “I’ll take her now. You need to eat.”
The slight breeze lifted a tendril of red and laid it across her eyes. Houston longed to brush the hair back, but wouldn’t with all eyes on them. She didn’t want to be a spectacle. That’s all that kept him from it, though.
“I’m sure the little angel’s hungry.” Their hands brushed as he transferred the babe. A slow fire burning inside tried to flame high. “I’ll bring a seat for you behind the wagon.”
At her nod, he grabbed a barrel and rolled it around out of sight.
“Thank you, Houston.” Lara touched his arm. “I won’t take long. I know you’ll want to get the cattle moving soon.”
“Take your time,” he said gently.
“I don’t want to hold up anyone.”
“You should know by now that everyone respects yours and Gracie’s needs. The rest can go ahead anytime. I’ll stay and help if you need it.” Houston breathed the air that was laden with the fragrance of sage…and hope.
Reality slammed into him like a two-by-four. He wanted this woman.
Not only wanted, he needed her.
“All right. But first I need to change her.”
He left Lara replacing the soaked diaper with a dry one and went to fill his belly.
Raising his gaze to the blue sky overhead, he paused, praying he could find out who followed them before dark and wishing Dodge City was over the next hill.
* * *
Every nerve stretched taut, Houston lay in clumps of sagebrush and wild grasses, listening, waiting, barely breathing.
Several hours into the day and the sun had heated up, promising to be a scorcher by noon. Sweat trickled into his eyes, making them sting. Raising a hand
, he brushed it away in an effort to keep his vision clear.
In front of him, partially hidden by juniper, cholla cacti, and rock, sat the riders’ camp. So far nothing had moved in the ten minutes he’d been here. He finally decided no one would double back and rose. The cold fire told him they’d long gone. Empty tin cans, burned up cigarettes, and other trash lay among the leavings. It could’ve been a hundred campsites left by countless travelers, though none as careless as these.
He knew the men who meant to kill them had slept there. He smelled their evil. Strange that he hadn’t seen them during the ride out. Where had they disappeared to? Or had he ridden right past them without knowing it?
A scrap of paper, held down by a rock, fluttered. He picked it up.
Waiting ahead. Hurry. Gotta job.
The instructions had to be meant for others coming to join the four bushwhackers. No doubt the job referred to stealing the herd. But was that all? The Cherokee woman predicted there’d be more.
Who were these men, dammit? But he saw nothing to indicate a name.
He’d give anything to have Sam and Luke with him. When these reinforcements arrived, who knew how large a force they’d have to face.
He laid the note into the cold ashes, took out a match, and watched the paper flame. After making sure not one word remained, he gathered some good-sized rocks. He arranged them into an arrow that pointed in the wrong direction. “That should buy some time,” he muttered to himself.
Standing, he dusted off his hands and strode to the Appaloosa. It made him nervous that he’d missed the riders. He mounted up and set out at a gallop. Something told him not to dawdle. When a snake was on the loose, you moved fast before it could strike.
The horse ate up two miles in nothing flat. Up ahead, the chuck wagon had stopped. What was going on? Why wasn’t she moving?
And where were the others?
A bloodcurdling scream rent the air, chilling his bones.
Fifteen
Houston leaped off the horse before it could slow. “Lara!”
He reached for his Colt when he saw her standing alone where the team of horses should have been. She held Gracie in her arms, but her heartrending sobs tore into him.
“What is it, Lara? Please, God, tell me what happened.”
She handed him a thin cigarette paper. “He was here!”
“Who?”
“Read this.”
He glanced down at the words:
I could’ve killed the brat. Next time I will.
Deadly quiet settled over him. When he spoke, the words were harsh and raspy in his ears. “Where did you find this?”
“Lying next to Gracie. It’s him, Houston.”
“Yuma? Did you see him?”
“No, Henry did.” Her voice was cold and full of fear.
He glanced around. “Where is Henry?”
“Hiding inside the wagon. Yuma terrified him.”
And her too. Houston put his arm around Lara’s trembling body. “You’re safe. I’m here. I told you I wouldn’t be long. I’m not going to let Yuma have you or Gracie.”
Gracie whimpered and looked at him with wide eyes. She might not know what to be afraid of, but she knew fear. He kissed her, then wiped away Lara’s tears. He kicked himself all the way to the Rio Grande and back. He should’ve been here.
Why the hell had he left?
But she had been with the others when he rode out—he’d made sure of it. The wagon was rolling alongside the cattle, but now there was no sign of the longhorns.
“I need to find Henry, and then I want you to tell me everything.”
At her nod, Houston climbed up into the wagon box and glanced inside the interior where they kept all the supplies. “Henry, it’s me. You can come out now. No one can hurt you.”
The fourteen-year-old poked his head from between sacks of meal, flour, and sugar. Tears streamed down his face.
“Can you come out and talk to me?” Houston quietly asked.
The boy shook so hard he could barely crawl over the wagon seat. Houston helped him to the ground.
“Is he gone?” Henry asked, looking around.
“Yes, he’s gone. Did you see him?”
“I was afraid. I hid,” Henry said, his voice full of raw emotion and shame. “I didn’t save the baby. He took her.”
“No, Henry. Lara’s got Gracie. See?” Houston led him around to prove he spoke the truth. When Henry saw Lara, he stumbled to her, saying over and over how sorry he was for being a coward.
It took Houston several minutes to get everyone settled down. “Now, tell me everything and don’t spare one detail.”
“I was with the herd, exactly as you told me,” Lara began slowly. “We crossed that small creek back there and I stopped to refill the water kegs because they were low. Quaid and Virgil were with me.”
“Good. That’s what I told them to do.”
“We heard gunshots and I told my brothers to go see what was happening. Henry and I finished up and got going again, but the harnesses snapped on the horses and they ran off. I only saw afterward where they’d been cut. Yuma must have done it. I walked a little ways, trying to find the horses, and left Henry with the baby.”
With effort, Henry gathered himself. “I sat Gracie on a blanket. I started to go help. The baby cried.” He began shaking.
“That’s okay, Henry. What happened next?” Houston gently prodded.
“I saw him.”
“Yuma Blackstone?”
“He was holding Gracie. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Henry began rocking back and forth, his tears leaving tracks in the dirt on his face. “I’m sorry.”
Houston put an arm around the boy’s neck and pulled Henry to him. “It’s all right, son. You didn’t do anything wrong. No one blames you. You love that little girl.”
“I was scared.”
“I know, but you don’t have to be scared now,” Houston said.
Lara put her arms around Henry. “I don’t blame you, little brother. I love you.”
Henry pulled back and cried, “No. I’m a coward.”
Clearly no one could reason with him in his distraught state, but Houston needed answers. He took a deep breath. Maybe getting him back to the story would help. “Tell me what happened next, Henry. Can you do that? I need to know so I can keep Yuma from coming back. When you saw him holding Gracie, what did he do?”
“I yelled.”
Houston strove for patience with the boy. “And then what?”
“He put that paper on Gracie and dropped her. She cried. He laughed and called me stupid. Said I was a dummy. Pointed his gun.”
A muscle worked in Houston’s jaw. Blackstone was awfully brave when faced with a mere boy. Let him face a grown man. Then they’d see how much guts he had. The urge to put a bullet between his eyes burned hotter than the fires of Hades.
Without a doubt, Blackstone was the evil that the Cherokee woman had said followed them. Although it was pure conjecture, Blackstone and his men must’ve raided the Indian camps.
Houston forced himself back to the present. “Then after you ran and hid, he rode away?”
Henry sniffled and nodded.
“Were other men with him?”
“Nope.” Henry turned and trudged away, probably back to his safe hiding place.
The others must’ve created a diversion to draw Virgil and Quaid away while Yuma went after Gracie and Lara. Only Lara had left by the time he arrived. But what if she’d been there when he came? What would Yuma have done to her? Would he have killed her this time? Cold fear spread through Houston.
Hell and be damned!
He was thinking about the wisdom of leaving the chuck wagon to look for the horses, when Virgil and Quaid galloped up. He quickly told them about Yuma and the cut harnesses.
; “We’ll find the team,” Virgil said, wasting few words.
“What were the gunshots Lara and Henry heard?” Houston asked, praying that no one had been hurt.
Quaid wiped sweat from his forehead. “Three riders came out of nowhere and took two horses from the remuda. We shot at ’em but they got away. Now we know why they attacked us.” He paused before adding, “I wish we’d have killed ’em!”
“Yep.” Virgil spat on the ground as though he had a bad taste in his mouth.
“We will.” Before this was over, Houston would see them all dead. Only now he knew more were on the way, and how many was anyone’s guess. “Go round up the horses so we can get Lara moving. From now on, no one leaves her. We’ve got to stick closer together.”
“Yep,” Quaid echoed his brother and both mounted up.
As they rode off, Lara grabbed Houston. “Our baby isn’t safe. Please help me stop Yuma from getting her.”
“I’ll see to it that he won’t harm Gracie. I’ll keep you both safe. I promise.”
But could he keep that vow? Fear of how easily Yuma could’ve succeeded if he’d wanted put chunks of ice in Houston’s veins.
“Did I cause this because I didn’t have the talisman on Gracie that the Cherokee gave you?” Lara’s voice was but a whisper, as though speaking too loudly would draw back the evil.
He’d asked himself the same question. Living a stone’s throw from Indian Territory, he knew a lot about the culture, and though not specifically, the importance of their symbols and charms. The woman had given it to them to protect Gracie, so it seemed to him they needed to somehow put it on her…for now.
Until he could chop off the head of the snake and feed the sick bastard’s carcass to the buzzards.
Even now, Blackstone could be watching from a hiding place in the huge rocks five hundred yards away. Houston scanned the area but nothing moved.
“You’re not to blame, Lara. Who’s to say if it would’ve made a difference?” He wrapped his arms around her and their child. Gracie squirmed between them and he realized he held her too snugly. Yet it felt as though he didn’t hold her and Lara tightly enough.
