by Linda Broday
“Fine by me. Don’t have nothing but time.”
“Figure we’ll have to lie low for a while on account of the law poking around.” The man to his left spoke, then stuck out his hand. “I’m Bill.”
“Glad to know you.” Luke shook it, measuring the friendliest in the group.
“These others are Frenchie and Cuny. Creede was the lookout you ran into.”
“Howdy, boys.” Nary a one acknowledged him.
“We don’t need no Ranger breathing down our necks. I say we kill the troublemaking weasel,” said Cuny, the only red-haired one of the bunch.
Luke’s blood froze. “Ranger? Here in Coleman County?”
“Yep. A Captain Roberts, I heard.”
For a bunch of moles who only came up for air once in a while, they knew the state of affairs pretty well. Somebody kept them informed.
“Anyone know why he showed up?”
Cuny shrugged. “Could be on account of that woman who got herself hung. Be my guess.”
Luke waded deeper. “Rumor has it they’re looking to pin that on some fellow named McClain. Say, you desperadoes know him?”
The man called Frenchie spoke up. “Only by the smell.”
Now what the hell did that mean? Luke pretended unconcern as he met the surly glare.
“Don’t say?”
“McClain’s been spending a lot of time with that Day family. Saw with my own two eyes.” Frenchie reached for the knife and flipped it end over end, catching it by the handle.
Slithers crawled up Luke’s spine. Evidently, the man kept a close watch on the Day farm. For what reason? He didn’t like any of the answers popping into mind.
“Yep, that Glory Day is one handsome woman despite the britches. Gives a man a powerful urge to settle between those white legs for a picnic lunch. Yep, one of these times I reckon I will.”
Damn!
It took every ounce of control to keep Luke from reaching for his forty-five and blowing the ugly thought right out of Frenchie’s head. He clenched his fists and remembered his purpose. The man had better beat a wide path around Glory though. Or else he’d throw caution to the wind and take great pleasure in educating the bastard on the finer points of anthill torture. He’d heard tell of a man staked out in one who lived for over a week.
“Hey, Tex, whatever happened to that wife of your’n? Now there was one pretty woman. The way she sashayed under a man’s nose used to give me a bad case of the wants.”
Lefty’s question brought an unforgiving quiet. If Luke failed this test, it’d all be over.
“Fickle women. I swear they’re all the same.” He scratched the mud-encrusted stubble on his chin, adjusted the eye patch, and leaned forward. “She ran off with a Bible-toter. Said she wanted a man who’d live longer’n a gun hand. Can you believe the luck?”
Grunts swept the underground chamber. Luke reckoned he hit on something the gang agreed on.
“What was her name?” Lefty asked. “Cain’t seem to recall.”
Criminy cricket! Luke had no clue how to sidestep this hole. Well, gut instinct had brought him this far.
Luke laughed. “Hell, me neither. I’ve put a lot of whiskey and a whole passel of saloon gals between her and forgetting. And you yahoos said I asked a lot of questions!”
The trapdoor opened before anyone could shoot him. A man stepped down the narrow ladder.
* * *
“That sister of mine has a powerful wish to pass on.” Worry rode herd in Uncle Pete’s voice. “I don’t have no more sense than that white mule out there.”
“No one holds you accountable.” Glory considered that if she’d paid more mind to Mama’s problem and had more compassion, it would’ve made a difference. Anger didn’t serve much purpose.
“Well, it darn shore ain’t your fault either, missy.”
She wondered if he’d gone into the mind-reading business.
“How do you know so much, Uncle?”
“Had a whole lotta years to get smart. I done learned fear is in the future. Regret is living in the past. A body can’t do either for long without going off his rocker. I’m guessing Ruth did both. But I sure didn’t hafta rush her along.”
No matter what he said, Glory hadn’t helped the situation any. Fear and regret fit in both pockets…in large doses.
“Is Patience finally asleep?” she asked quietly.
“Curled right here beside me.” The way Uncle Pete said it she knew he watched over them with a fierce protectiveness. He must be exhausted himself.
“I’m glad. Don’t know whenever she cried so much.” If Ruth died, it would affect baby sis more than any of them. Already their parents left a big enough hole as it was. What their future held only a soothsayer would dare predict.
She recalled Dr. Dalton’s assessment upon completing the eye examination in his office.
“Bear in mind I’m certainly no expert, and I’d give anything not to confirm your suspicions, Miss Glory,” he’d said.
“You can fix her, can’t you?” Hope asked.
“Too much damage. The blow to the head restricted blood flow to the back of her eyes. The outcome looks bleak.”
The words echoed in Glory’s mind even yet. No hope.
Uncle Pete yawned loudly. “Yep, I figure life is a package. Comes with good things and bad. A mixture of storms and sunshine…”
His voice trailed, leaving deep snores to fill the room.
Glory contemplated those truths and silently agreed. She only wished the good would outweigh the bad for a change.
Twenty-four
By dusk Monday, Ruth Day appeared to have passed the worst.
Uncle Pete left. Dr. Dalton rode back to town, saying he’d call on Ruth the next day. Hope and Patience were busy with a multitude of chores they’d neglected during the vigil. That left Glory to sit with their mother.
Regular breathing indicated more natural sleep.
Relieved to have gotten through the crisis, Glory rested her head against the back of the chair. She contemplated her middle sister’s news of this morn. That Alex had proposed didn’t come as any surprise. Hope’s glow only reinforced the gloom of her own situation. Soon Glory would know more about loneliness and heartache than she cared to.
A faint rustle of sheets alerted her.
“Mama? Are you awake?”
She located Ruth’s hand by touch and lifted it to her cheek. So frail and dainty. The veins on the back stood out.
“Did I die?”
“No, you’re very much with us in your own bed.”
“Why do you insist on keeping me here? Why didn’t you let me go?”
The thin, distraught plea whipped the air. Glory bit her trembling lip. Despite everything that had happened, Ruth persisted on the low road she’d chosen.
“Because we…because I need you.” Because if she lost one more person she might give up herself.
She put her face on her mother’s bosom.
“No. From the time you were born, you never needed me. You were always strong and brave. I can give nothing to you now.”
“You’re wrong, Mama.”
“I watched you, you know. I envied your uncanny ability to do whatever it took to survive. You were the one person I most wished to be.” Ruth’s sigh seemed to come from the deepest part of her soul. “But you belonged to your father, not me.”
A feeble touch smoothed back Glory’s hair. She prayed for words to tell her mother things she never dared say.
“All the times when you hugged Hope, babied Patience, and wiped her tears, I tried to pretend you cared about me just as much, tried to tell myself it didn’t hurt that you pushed me aside.”
“Oh, my poor darling. I never shunned you. Not on purpose anyway. Your attitude held me at arm’s length. I didn’t know how to get past the fo
rtress you erected.”
She dared not put stock in the lie and lower defenses that saved her from ruin.
“Don’t you care enough about us to live to see us grown, Mama?”
“I don’t expect you to understand the kind of love between a husband and wife. When your father went away, he took everything good about me with him.”
Ruth had no idea she’d described Glory’s feelings for the man she called McClain.
Luke had left her world a desolate waste when he rode off into the storm. Suffering the same devastation created a tiny crack in the thick wall she’d built.
Yet as always, Ruth blamed her lack on others. She hadn’t changed.
“Though I tried to excuse the circumstances truly beyond Jack’s control,” her mother continued, “an utter sense of betrayal made me angry and afraid. I didn’t want to live without your father. But it was never, ever about the love I have for my precious daughters. Please believe that.”
“I want to.” Maybe the time had come to allow herself to feel compassion for her mother. Still, could she allow herself that weakness? Could she risk voicing her deep disappointment?
“Let me show you, Glory. Can you give me another chance?”
Glory managed a shaky breath. “I convinced myself I could be content with any scraps that fell by the wayside after you gave Hope and Patience everything else. But then I see how desperately you meant to rid yourself of us one way or another.”
“What have I done! Can you find it in your heart to let me make amends?”
How could she not? Doing so would heal both their spirits. She could merely nod because of the lump clogging her throat.
“Does that mean you forgive me for being such a burdensome old woman?”
Glory wiped away a tear. “Long as you promise to keep living.”
* * *
The leader of the outlaw gang watched a lone rider approach. He didn’t lift his finger from the trigger of his pistol until he recognized the man who’d come to report. He waited, his impatience growing.
The rider climbed down. While the man slapped clinging thistle off his britches with his hat, the leader scanned the brush.
“You sure no one followed you?”
“Yep. Kinda skittish, aren’t you?”
“Careless can get a man killed. I worked too hard to get this operation to where it is. So far no one suspects, and I aim to keep it that way. No slips, understand?” He spat brown tobacco juice from the side of his mouth. “I ain’t ready to call it quits yet. Anything new to tell?”
“We have a new addition to the group, boss.”
“I warned you about letting strangers in. Too risky.”
“Lefty vouches for him. A fellow by the name of Texas Kidd.”
The hackles on the back of the boss’s neck rose. He trusted no one. Not even his own mother if she still lived. Something felt wrong. “What does he look like?”
“A real ugly feller. Wears a black patch over one eye. Don’t think he took a bath his whole life.”
“Texas Kidd, huh?” His gut twisted. “Don’t trust him.”
“You want I should kill him?”
“Not yet. Watch him close and keep your lip buttoned.”
“Already been asking a bunch of questions. Wanted to meet the head man right off.”
“Did, huh?” He’d never known his gut to be wrong.
“Yeah, an’ he’s got a strange way about him too.”
“Like I said, don’t give him the time of day. Have you heard anything new on McClain?”
“No one’s seen hide nor hair of him. Folks in Santa Anna took the bait just like you planned. They blame him for hanging that old lady.”
“Good. Serves him right for what he did to my son. An eye for an eye is what I always said.”
“He might’ve left the territory.”
Damn! He hoped to hell not. Luke McClain hadn’t gotten near enough grief. And he had a special treat saved for him.
“You’ve been watching that Day girl, ain’t you?”
“Yep, just like you said. No sign of him.”
“He’ll turn up. Is that all?”
The rider lowered his eyes and scuffed the toe of his boot.
“Well?”
“A Texas Ranger showed up.”
“You don’t say.”
“Feller by the name of Captain Roberts.”
“Shit! Who sent for him?”
“Don’t know, boss. Could be just passing through.”
“We’ll have to lie low for sure now. When a Ranger sinks his teeth in something, he don’t let go. Put a man to watching him and be extra careful. Roberts is a tough hombre to tame.”
The rider climbed back into the saddle and galloped back in the direction he came.
Boss slung his fist into the solid corral post. He’d just got wind about a shipment of gold ripe for the pickings. One of the biggest hauls he’d seen in a while and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
* * *
Glory came awake by degrees. The sound of her own heartbeat filled the little alcove, her sanctuary. No one stirred in the house. Mornings used to be her favorite time. She’d write in her journal or just lie and arrange the day in her head. Well, she wouldn’t be doing any more writing. And the day’s schedule? It remained pretty blank of late.
At least Mama appeared to be mending. The ordeal might have jarred her back to reality. Maybe she’d get her wits about her again for Hope and Patience’s sake.
Uncle Pete hit the nail on the head. Life was a package of good and bad. Didn’t come with any guarantees. You simply took what it gave and made the best of it. No whining, no excuses.
But wasn’t that what she’d sunk to? a still voice whispered. Truth could make a body squirm.
Yet, she couldn’t fathom how anyone void of sight could lead a productive life. At least not the kind she used to. For God’s sake, hunters had to know what they aimed at to shoot a rifle! And while she could still saddle the mule, how would she determine directions? Just supposing there were other ways to kill game for the table, work the farm, how did one go about it?
Weariness washed over. She pushed the sheet aside and slowly pulled on her clothes. It was a bit much for her at present. She’d mull it over for a few days.
The kitchen floor creaked in the usual places on her way through. She found the walking stick where she left it propped in the corner. The door swung open with ease.
Startled movements outside put ice in her veins. Someone or something was on their back porch.
“Who’s there?” A racing pulse brought sharpness to her tone. She prodded the air with the wooden staff until it struck a firm object.
Kneeling, Glory touched animal fur. It didn’t move.
Of a sudden, the faint rustle of clothing perked her ears.
“Someone’s there. Whoever you are, speak up.”
A voice cleared. “Uh…it’s only me, Miss Glory.”
“Horace?”
Sniffles preceded the answer. “Yeah.”
Crying had an unmistakable sound. She knew it well.
“What are you doing here? Has something happened?”
Folks said his father beat him on occasion. She prayed the rumor hadn’t come to fruition. No one deserved such treatment.
“I c-come to bring the meat I killed.”
Ah, the mysterious leaver of food. Glory felt her way past the gift and down the steps. Horace reached out to help.
“But why?”
“On account of I knew you had bad troubles. I didn’t want that you should starve. Or worry.”
A little part of her couldn’t help wishing the culprit had been Luke. Every nerve in her body yearned for his touch and when the smell of hay drifted in the breeze, she remembered their last hours with indelible
clarity.
Hell’s bells! Where had he gone?
For two cents, she’d saddle Caesar and hunt down the charmer who had the audacity to show her the way to the Promised Land and then leave her high and dry.
“Horace, what troubles are you talking about?” She touched his shoulder.
“I’m not stupid like everyone says.”
“Of course you’re not.” She’d like to give a piece of her mind to the good, self-righteous busybodies who threw barbs with abandon.
“I followed you sometimes.” Horace sniffed. “I saw you get blind. I only wanted to help. Didn’t mean to do nothing wrong.”
“No, please don’t think that. Your generosity is a fine thing. I don’t know of a more caring soul in Coleman County.” She sensed his load becoming lighter.
“For true? Honest?”
“That’s a fact. I’d rather stand shoulder to shoulder with you than any of the whole mess.”
“Aw, Miss Glory. You mean you’ll keep lettin’ me do stuff?”
Though she didn’t know exactly what that consisted of, she recognized his need. “You bet I will.”
“I’m not your beau anymore. But can I still be a friend?”
Wetness filled her eyes. She recognized the spirit longing for acceptance. He’d settle for whatever she could spare.
“I’ll take whatever you want to give me. Who put this notion in your head?”
“No one.”
“Then you decided all by yourself you don’t want to be my beau anymore?”
“I do, but I can’t. Not anymore.”
“Why?”
“Ain’t right to have two beaus. Mr. Luke is the onliest one you need. I’ll jus’ be your friend. All right?”
“How did you know about Luke?”
“I just do. He has the key.”
The boy spoke in riddles. “A key?”
“To your heart. He knows how to open the locked places. Whoever has the key gets to marry the princess.”
Her breath caught on a jagged piece of her soul.
Horace expressed ideas with astounding eloquence. Luke had unlocked everything that she’d been too scared, and too angry, to let herself think about. Most of all, he’d shown her how to ride the magic carpet and gifted her with a great love.
