Her Abundant Joy

by Lyn Cote

  “No one ever does.”

  “You weren’t.” Remy didn’t sound quarrelsome; he sounded embarrassed.

  “Remy, we fought in a battle. Hot lead was flying everywhere.”

  “You—know—how—to fight.” Each of Remy’s words sounded dug out of him.

  Carson stared down at what he could see of his cousin, a man he thought foolish. He could only pity him now. And Carson knew no man wanted that. “I know how to fight.” His own voice now sounded forced. “But I hate it. Maybe now you see why.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t talk. You’re wasting your strength, and you don’t have any to waste. Sleep. We’ll talk when you’re better.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Sleep.”

  Then a totally unexpected, shivery wave of self-pity washed over Carson. This war wasn’t finished. Carson might have to fight again. I don’t want to. I want to be done with fighting. Would that ever be possible? Could a Ranger ever really quit?

  After two uneventful weeks on their journey, tonight during his watch, Carson had become aware of something disquieting. He’d expected this danger might threaten them along the way. He hoped he was just plain wrong. As autumn progressed from September into October, night came earlier every evening, every increasingly chilly evening. And tonight, with the air dry and empty, only stars and a new moon tried and failed to illuminate the surrounding plain. Thick black velvet ringed the dim light away from the low fire.

  Since Tunney would be taking the early morning watch, he had already lain down in the circle around the campfire. Sugar was helping Emilio get bedded down for the night. Soon the two of them settled down, wrapped together in their blankets. Remy was asleep in the cart. His fever had finally stopped recurring every evening. Carson expected him to live. Mariel lingered near Carson by the fire, as she did every night. This lull between waking and sleeping was their time alone together. He wished he could enjoy it tonight.

  But his senses were on high alert. Mariel’s nearness was interfering with his concentration. He grimaced.

  “Is something wrong?” she whispered.

  He shook his head as if waving away a fly.

  The woman he loved lowered her eyes and stared into the fire. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he also didn’t want her to misinterpret his preoccupation. “I am going to tell you something,” he murmured, “but you must not react to it. I need you to act as natural as you can. Understand?”

  She looked at him for a long moment, then she nodded.

  “I think that there might be Comanche close. Several times I think I’ve heard someone prowling nearby.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, but she didn’t start up or make any other outward reaction.

  “Don’t be worried. I think they recognize us as Rangers. They probably would have moved on if Emilio and Remy weren’t wounded. They are wondering if they can get away with stealing one of our horses. I doubt they will attack us.”

  “They won’t attack?” Her small voice sounded high and scared.

  “I don’t think so. There must only be a few of them or they wouldn’t be prowling around, trying to see if they can slip away with a horse without us knowing till morning.”

  Just then there was a jangling of a low bell in the nearby brush. Carson leaped up. Tunney rolled to his feet, his Colt in hand. Both men charged toward the sound.

  Mariel stood up, dropping her tin mug of coffee. From behind, a hand clamped over her mouth. A gun fired. Mariel was flung forward into the fire. She screamed, twisting and throwing herself beyond the flames. She lay, gasping on the dirt, remaining safe—outside of the circle of light. That much caution she had learned.

  Carson came rushing to her. He grabbed her hands and yanked her up. “Are you hurt?” he cried. He pulled her close to the fire and began running his hands over her, checking for injuries.

  She shook violently as she pressed her face into Carson’s shoulder. His strong arms came around her, holding her close to his heart, which beat loudly in her left ear.

  “What happened?” he demanded. “Who shot? Why were you nearly in the fire? Tell me!”

  “One brave evidently wanted more than horses. He wanted Mariel,” Emilio spoke up.

  Mariel heard movement and Sugar’s reprimand that Emilio should lie back down, that he couldn’t go after the Comanche.

  Emilio stilled and said, “While you were off checking on the horses, he came up as bold as polished brass and tried to make away with her. I winged him. And he took off.”

  At these words, Mariel’s knees gave way. Carson carried her back to where they had been sitting and set her there. She couldn’t stop shaking. Carson brought her blanket and wrapped her in it, settling her on the earth in front of him between his powerful legs.

  He spoke to Emilio over her head, sounding gruff, agonized. “Do you think that’s why they went for the horses—a diversion?” Carson rubbed her shoulders and her arms, chafing them, trying to warm her. He spoke to Emilio again. “Did you see anything about the brave? Are he or his band known to us?”

  “I saw little, just Mariel being grabbed. Did they get any of the horses, Tunney?” Emilio asked.

  “No, the old ‘bell on a string in the brush’ did the trick. I think they mostly wanted a horse if they could get one. One of them might have had his eye on your woman. I think that our being Rangers just made them want to see what they could get away with, you know? Be able to brag that they stole a horse or a woman from three Rangers.”

  After a few heated words in response to this, Carson urged “Go back to your blanket, Tunney. I’ll finish the first watch.”

  Tunney grunted. Then Carson called Remy, who answered that he was fine. Carson said no more.

  Before the commotion, Mariel had been sleepy; she was wide awake now. The thought that an Indian had wanted to make off with her hissed through her nerves. The night crept into the same quiet as before, disturbed only by the wings of night birds and the chant of insects. Her hands were fisted in her lap. She stared into the darkness, wishing somehow to recapture the calm she and Carson had been sharing before the bell had clanged.

  “I wish I could take you someplace safe,” Carson said, his lips right beside her ear. “I hate that there is always danger here. I hate it. Why isn’t there ever any peace?”

  His vehemence startled her out of her fear. She turned and rolled onto her knees. She threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him with all the love that she had for him. She didn’t know or care whether the others were watching or not.

  She clung to him. “When I am with you, I have peace, joy.” The words came out of the deep well inside her that she usually kept sealed. “I never knew peace until I met you. I was wanted never…. No one ever cared….” Her voice faded. How could she make him understand what his love meant to her? “You love me,” she said, not able to say more. The fire had died down and the night was so dark that she could not see his face. She ran her fingertips lightly over his features, feeling his smooth skin and tracing his eyebrows.

  “I don’t want this frontier to be your life. I don’t want you to always be in danger,” he whispered, his voice disappearing into the black void around them.

  “There is no real peace as you want,” she whispered, “not in this world. There was no peace in Germany. And that is not a frontier. Germans fight, get murdered. There are thieves there too.”

  He stroked her hair as she tried to think how to confront him, still feeling his skin under her fingertips.

  “All that you’ve said is true, but I wish it weren’t. Now sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

  She still held him, trying to think of a way to comfort him. No matter how much she loved him, she could not stop the war, could not make this a safe place. She was a Texas woman, but just one woman.

  The last few familiar miles to the Quinn Ranch could not be covered fast enough to suit Sugar. After well over a month of travel, nearing the end of October, she wanted to gallop ah
ead and leave everyone behind. “It is hard to go so slow, sí?” Emilio said. “I see your excitement.”

  She slid from her saddle. Walking beside the travois, she took Emilio’s hand. The sky was overcast, just as part of her was at this homecoming. “I don’t ever want to travel again.”

  Emilio chuckled. “What about the trip to see Ash and Reva at Antonio’s?”

  “When the war is over.” She turned her face north toward home.

  Finally, the party reached the last rise, overlooking the gentle slope toward the hacienda. Sugar couldn’t contain herself. She dropped her reins and ran. As she neared the house, people poured from the hacienda, from the barns, from the surrounding jacales. And everyone was shouting, “Saludos! You’re home! Welcome home!”

  Her mother ran toward her, and she was finally wrapped in her arms. “My darling daughter, my sweet child.” Sugar wept with relief onto her mother’s shoulder, but when she heard her parents call out Carson’s name, she stepped back to let them welcome him and the others. She hugged her little sister Erin, who was jumping up and down in her excitement.

  When Dorritt saw Remy in the cart, she exclaimed with dismay and began giving orders, devoting herself to giving him the attention he needed. Sugar turned and asked for help with Emilio. She sighed and whispered to herself, “All I want and need is a long bath and clean clothes.” Of course, that wasn’t all she wanted. She wanted more.

  Late in the day, Sugar found herself smelling of lavender-scented soap and sitting at her parents’ large round dining table. She was wearing clean, pressed clothing and sipping a glass of fresh milk. She was also nibbling on the best food she’d eaten in months. She gazed around the huge room, with its large stone fireplace, and at the faces around the table—Carson, her parents, little Erin, Tunney, Emilio, and Mariel. Home. I’m home. In the midst of her peace, she recalled the letters from her past. Like a knife slicing through marrow, her peace was at an end.

  Her mother was speaking to Carson. “I’ll send one of our vaqueros to San Felipe with a letter, telling Jewell and Henri that Remy is here, recovering. I’ll ask her to come as soon as possible. I think seeing his family would help Remy greatly.”

  Dorritt turned to Mariel and Sugar. “I’m sure your careful nursing saved Remy’s life.” Then she looked to Tunney. “And the splint you made him was excellent. I think you did better than any doctor could have.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Tunney grinned. “I was glad to help. I could see he was in misery with everything, the moving around and bein’ carried over rough ground.”

  Dorritt shook her head. “I shudder to think of the pain he’s suffered. Are you sure you must leave us so quickly?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I want to get settled in for the winter in New Braunfels.”

  “Still interested in that handsome-looking widow?” Carson teased.

  Tunney only chuckled in reply and took another helping of everything on the table.

  Sugar tried harder to hold back her request till she was alone with her parents. She found she couldn’t. Somehow this must be spoken of in the open. No more secrets. “Mother, I know about the letters, the letters Carson found in the cabin.”

  Silence.

  Only Tunney went on eating, trying to look as if he weren’t there.

  Finally, her father asked, “How?”

  Sugar inhaled deeply. “I overheard you, mother, and Carson talking about them that night. I didn’t say anything because…” She pressed her lips together and looked down at her plate. “I wanted to deny that they existed. I was still afraid.”

  “What changed your mind?” Dorritt asked.

  The sounds from outside and muted laughter from the kitchen filled the silence around the table. How to explain? “I am not a little girl anymore.”

  Dorritt reached over and patted Sugar’s hand. “No, you are a grown woman.”

  “And my wife,” Emilio added, taking her other hand.

  “I will give you the letters after supper,” Dorritt said.

  Sugar nodded and looked down.

  Carson must have sensed her discomfort; he lessened the awkward silence by asking their father about a mustang he had been trying to break to the saddle before he’d left for the war. The conversation drifted back to everyday matters.

  Sugar was grateful. It gave her time to calm down. Bringing up the letters had cost her. Nonetheless, she had spoken the truth, declared her willingness to face the truth. The road to Mexico and back had stretched her, strengthened her. She was not the same young girl she’d been this spring. Now she was a woman, a Texas woman, a strong woman, unafraid.

  Emilio lay on their large bed in Sugar’s room. With a wide white feather pillow at her back, she sat beside his head. An oil lamp found on the bedside table. On the bed coverlet lay five letters, faded and with one edge water-stained.

  Emilio ran his index finger down her arm, causing gooseflesh to rise. “I am here, querida.”

  “I could not forget that.” Sugar smiled and looked at the letters, trying to decide which one to open first. She finally chose one and unfolded it. She read aloud, “‘Dear Ida Rose, I have dreadful news to tell you….’” Sugar made herself continue reading her aunt Violet’s letter aloud. “‘My promised, Jacob Hinton, died of influenza last week. It has been a terrible shock. I feel as if my heart had been buried with him.’” Sugar’s voice faltered. What if I had lost Emilio? She leaned over and kissed her husband.

  He threaded his fingers into her hair. “Mi amor, don’t be afraid.”

  In the early darkness after the evening meal, Mariel strolled beside Carson. The chill of late autumn made her lift her shawl over her head and draw it tight under her chin. A white veil covered the moon.

  After the meal, he had whispered, “I have something to say to you alone.”

  The look that accompanied these mild words had ignited currents of pleasure flowing through her every vein. She had let him draw her outside. Now she could think of nothing but the kisses she hoped he would soon be giving her.

  When he took her hand, she was pleased. They arrived at his mother’s herb and medicine garden. He opened the door and let her in. Then they were behind the door, out of sight of all the people who lived on the ranch. Carson folded her into his arms. “There is so much that I want to say to you, but I have trouble putting feelings into words, words of love.”

  “I don’t know why you would love me.” The words embarrassed her as soon as she spoke them. She tried to pull her hand from his.

  He wouldn’t free her. “If I asked you the same question, what would be your answer? Do you love me because I can keep you safe?”

  “You can keep me safe,” she replied.

  “Do you love me because I can provide for you?”

  “You can.”

  “Do you love me because I am handsome?”

  She caught the hint of teasing in his voice. She smiled and leaned over to kiss him. Then pulled away, putting her hands in the crook of his arm.

  Carson led Mariel down the rows of dried plants, the moon lighting their way. “I remember when these plants were full and green.”

  “Ja, the little girls came running in the gate and…”

  “And I was kissing you.” He lowered his head and lightly brushed her lips with his—once, twice, tantalizing her.

  She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Every nerve in her body sang.

  Under the veiled moon in the dying garden, Carson whispered into Mariel’s ear. “Before I go, I want to make you my wife.”

  She understood. He wanted to make certain she would be protected and provided for by his family…in case. She slipped her arms under his and clasped him to herself, trying to bind him to her. “Carson, I—”

  “Hello, the house!” a man called out in the night.

  Sixteen

  Both Mariel and Carson stiffened, then Carson led Mariel out of the garden, into the moonlit open yard in front of the hacienda.

  Carson hal
ted, frigid shock icing his veins. Even though the full moonlight didn’t reveal their faces to Carson, he could not be mistaken. The last people in the world he’d expected or wanted to see had just arrived at the Quinns’ doorstep.

  He knew why they had come, but he had not expected them yet. In front were two riders, behind them a buckboard with two dark people. A few feet behind the wagon, two Quinn vaqueros who had been on watch duty remained in the saddle, lingering, saying nothing. The vaqueros had permitted this party onto Quinn land. They obviously hadn’t deemed these visitors dangerous.

  How little they knew. Carson dreaded fully and deeply the aggravation that one of the visitors would cause.

  In her blue flannel wrapper, his mother hurried out the front door into the chilly night. Quinn came right behind her, carrying a lighted lantern. She halted and gasped. “Henri! Blanche!”

  Dismounting, Henri LaCroix moved to help his daughter down from her horse. A black couple, no doubt slaves, slipped down from the buckboard, remaining well behind Blanche and her father. Dorritt hurried down the steps. “Blanche! Henri! I can’t believe…how did you get here so quickly?”

  Carson hung back with Mariel anchored at his side, irritation grinding inside him. Indeed this was the first time that either Henri or Blanche had ever been to the Quinn ranch. Family visits had always been from west to east, not vice versa. Of course this time, the LaCroixs would have had to come to them. Carson drew Mariel closer to the light.

  “How is Remy?” Blanche hurried forward stiffly, obviously fatigued. Henri and Quinn shook hands. Then Blanche looked toward Carson. She narrowed her eyes, as if measuring him. Or was she focusing on Mariel, beside him?

  “Yes, he’s here,” Dorritt said, waving the visitors toward the porch. “Come in! My son and his party just arrived earlier today. Blanche, Carson said that your husband had sent you a letter—”

  “We received Anthony’s missive a little over two weeks ago and set out as soon as we could,” Blanche complained, lifting her skirts as she walked up the steps.

  Missive. Even Blanche’s words flaunted her conceit. Carson and Mariel followed as his father with the lamp led the visitors through the large, dark room. Then they walked over the path through the open courtyard to the guest bedroom where Remy had been settled. In the glow of the lantern, Dorritt held her index finger to her lips and opened the door. Consuela, who was sitting with Remy, rose and stepped into the shadows. Remy was deeply asleep.