River to Cross, A

by Yvonne Harris

  Start Reading

  © 2011 by Yvonne Harris

  Cover design by John Hamilton Design

  Cover photography © Getty Images

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  www.bethanyhouse.com

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

  www.bakerpublishinggroup.com

  Ebook edition created 2011

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  ISBN 978-1-4412-3227-4

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  For Robert, again

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books by Author

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  County Courthouse

  El Paso, Texas

  August 9, 1886

  Elizabeth Evans lifted her skirts and sprinted up the back stairs of the courthouse. At the third-floor landing she hauled open the heavy door and propped it with her hip. Grinning, she called down to her brother, puffing up the steps. “I don’t believe it. You can’t keep up with me, Lloyd.”

  “It’s ninety-eight degrees outside, and I’m ten years older than you.” Flushed and out of breath, Lloyd Madison frowned at the small woman in ruffled green silk and trudged up the last few steps to the landing. He took her elbow and steered her into a long, windowed corridor with a pair of tall hammered brass doors at the end.

  Lloyd pointed to the silent elevator. The clock above it said 11:10.

  “A few more minutes and that elevator would’ve been fixed, and we could’ve ridden up like normal people,” he said.

  Elizabeth let out a little hoot of laughter. “Ha, not with Mexico right across the river. In this part of the world, a few minutes means tomorrow or next week. Besides, only an idiot would ride up in that rickety birdcage you call an elevator.”

  Lloyd laughed and threw an arm around her. “Hush now. It’s modern and it’s perfectly safe. The town spent a lot of money on that elevator, and it’s only nervous Nellies like you who won’t ride in it.” He hugged her. “You little skeptic. My readers are going to love you. You’re on their side already.”

  A guilty grin burst across her face. “You picked that up fast,” she said, laughing.

  “I run a newspaper, remember? That’s my job.”

  When they were younger, she’d always looked up to him. Now, in one of life’s turnabouts, she was looking after him and his three-year-old daughter, Ruthie. When his wife and newborn son died last spring, Lloyd asked Elizabeth to come live with them in El Paso after she graduated from college. He needed family to help him get his life in order. In return, he offered to teach her the newspaper business. He owned and operated the Grande Examiner, El Paso’s leading newspaper.

  Elizabeth was tempted. From time to time she’d written gossipy “Inside Washington” pieces for his paper under a male pseudonym, and they were a big hit with El Paso readers.

  “School’s over; you’ve got your degree, so tomorrow you’re going to come work for me. Right?” her father asked over dinner the day she graduated.

  She laid her napkin down. “I don’t think so, Daddy. I tried that last summer, remember?”

  Carlton Madison, U.S. Senior Senator from Texas, had squired her around to lunch all over Washington and lied through his teeth, telling her and everyone else how important she was, while all she did was make his coffee. He loved her. He just wanted her around.

  “I’ve been thinking. How about I make you my speech-writer this time?” he said. “Would you like that?”

  She let out a long sigh and got out of her chair. She walked over and kissed him soundly on the cheek, then went upstairs to her room and started packing for Texas.

  But writing for Texans was one thing, she thought, stacking petticoats and chemises in a small calfskin traveling trunk. Moving out there was quite another. Just the thought of leaving Washington with its theaters and shops and elegant restaurants for Texas with its rough countryside and even rougher men made her uneasy.

  That was silly, she told herself. Fort Bliss was almost next door. With the U.S. Army a mere three miles away, El Paso was probably the safest place in all of Texas.

  In the courthouse, she pointed to the double doors at the end of the corridor. “How long will this meeting take?”

  Lloyd shrugged. “Hard to say. People want to know why I wrote that the stepped-up border raids by Mexican bandits are an attempt to draw the U.S. into war with Mexico.”

  “How did you find that out?” she asked.

  “Took me a while,” Lloyd said with a sour smile, “but I finally have a good source in Mexico. Had to put pressure on a Ranger captain to get it—and pushing those guys around is never a good idea. This one runs a Ranger company for the Frontier Battalion out of Camp Annex, a former subpost of Fort Bliss. He refused to talk to me without both Federal and state approval.”

  Lloyd laughed and shook his head. “Me—the son of a United States senator—and I had to get Washington’s permission to talk to him.”

  “Did he help?”

  “I’ll say. And he knows a lot more than he’s telling me. Mexican Army General Manuel Diego is a military thug and a liar. He wants to push President Guevara out. Says Guevara is a lackey of the United States. Not true. Guevara’s a friend and ally. And it’s been a long time since we had anyone in Mexico we could call a friend.”

  “You already knew that, though.”

  “Yes and no. The captain warned me to go easy with Diego, said however much we dislike the little general, Diego has a lot of support, and he just might win. Good advice, but I didn’t want to hear it.”

  “Could he be wrong?”

  Lloyd looked at her for a moment, then shook his head thoughtfully. “I doubt it. This man doesn’t make mistakes. When the captain was in the Army, he was in Fourth Cavalry reconnaissance, so I figure he ought to know.” Lloyd smiled down at her. “Actually, I’d like you to meet him.”

  Elizabeth held a hand up. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. Carl was in the Cavalry. And if I remember correctly, reconnaissance is a nice euphemism for spy.”

  Lloyd chuckled and squeezed her shoulder. “I really don’t think he’s a spy. In fact, he isn’t in the Army anymore. The Frontier Battalion went after him and wooed him over to their side. He’s a Texas Ranger now.”

  “A Texas Ranger? Good grief, Lloyd, keep him away from
me.”

  “Keep an open mind, Elizabeth. You’re young, pretty. Ought to be out having a good time and thinking about getting married again. Instead, you hardly ever go out, and when you do, the men have slicked up hair and smell prettier than you. Fort Bliss has a hundred real men out there you could meet.”

  “No thanks,” she said.

  Lloyd frowned at her. “You’re passing up some of the best men in the world. What have you got against the military?”

  “Not a thing,” Elizabeth answered quickly. “If I did, I wouldn’t come out here to live. I love my country. I’m proud of it, proud of you. I loved Carl, and I’ll never forget him. But I don’t love the Army, and I’m not marrying another man who does.”

  “But why?” Lloyd asked.

  “In the military, the wife comes second. Duty comes first.” Her face tightened. “Carl was killed doing his duty.”

  Lloyd shook his head. “Carl was a hero. He was killed in an Indian attack, what he joined the service to prevent. What happened to him wasn’t the Army’s fault. If we’re going to have a country that can hold its own in the world, it has to be a place that’s safe to live and work and go to school in. We need a strong Army with a big fist. El Paso has that with Fort Bliss. But you’re never going to give the Army a chance again because it might end in pain for you. Is that it?”

  She smiled and hugged him. “You got it. It’s called survival, Lloyd.”

  Lloyd grabbed the heavy brass door handles, opened the door, and edged her inside ahead of him. “And you know I’m going to change your mind!”

  “Lloyd, wait!” Sheriff Bud Wagner, a balding middle-aged man she’d met before, hurried over. He touched the brim of his hat and gave a slight bow to Elizabeth.

  “Hey, Bud.” Lloyd shook the sheriff’s hand warmly. “I came in early today to talk to you, but got held up outside with neighbors wanting to meet Elizabeth. How about after the meeting, maybe over coffee?” Lloyd said, and added quietly, “I have some new information for you about these border raids.”

  “Coffee sounds good. See any seats, Miz Evans?”

  Up on her toes, Elizabeth pointed to several empty seats down front. Tugging Lloyd’s arm, she started down the aisle, Sheriff Wagner close behind.

  It appeared as if everyone from the local seamstress to the bank president was there. Her chest tightened with pride for her brother. Alarmed about the surge in Mexican outlaws crossing over and cattle theft around El Paso, the whole town had come to hear Lloyd talk.

  “Order. Order. The house will be in order!”

  On the dais at the front of the room, El Paso’s Mayor Bob Jackson gaveled for silence. The vaulted rotunda with its encircling visitors’ gallery quieted as the clerk began to call the roll.

  Elizabeth opened her reticule and took out a pencil and small notebook. She flipped to a blank page and waited, ready to take notes for a follow-up article. She was fairly itching to get into it. This one had a real story.

  The chamber quieted as the chaplain began his opening prayer. As heads bowed, a hush settled over the room. “Dear Lord in heaven, we thank you for this meeting and for the many councilmen at this table and the good works they and our citizens are doing in El Paso. We thank you for guiding us in our decision making and showing us the way to—”

  The double brass doors at the back of the room crashed open against the walls.

  “Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt!” shouted a man with a heavy Mexican accent.

  Soldiers in blue uniforms with white straps crisscrossing their chests jumped through the doorway. Legs braced, they stationed themselves against the walls and aimed their weapons at the dais and the members of the El Paso City Council.

  Elizabeth grabbed Lloyd’s hand. “Who—?”

  “They’re Mexican Army, and they want to be sure we know it,” he whispered. “The officer in charge is Major Chavez. I met him a year ago. I remember that scarred cheek of his.”

  The major stood in the doorway. Beneath the small red cap he wore, a clipped dark beard hid the lower part of his face. Scowling, he strode toward the dais and turned to face the room, legs spread.

  A thick silence charged the room.

  The major looked out over the semicircular rows of benches and the frightened faces of the audience.

  He moved his head in little jerks like a puppet, looking for someone. Then he snapped his hand up and pointed directly at Lloyd.

  “Ah, Señor Madison, you will come with me, please.”

  Elizabeth sucked in a quiet hiss of surprise.

  Lloyd stiffened. “What’s the meaning of this, Major?”

  “We have much to talk about.” Unhurriedly, Chavez drew a heavy black pistol from a side holster. Staring at Lloyd, he thumbed the hammer back. The two clicks cocking the revolver were unmistakable.

  Elizabeth clenched her hands, her eyes fixed on the major. The scar down the side of his face had turned an angry, dusky red. In the stillness she was aware of dozens of eyes fixed on Lloyd and her.

  Chavez stroked his thumb back and forth along the trigger guard of the pistol. “Señor, you come with me or I shoot. You choose.”

  The councilmen exchanged worried looks.

  White-faced, Lloyd rose slowly and moved toward the end of the row.

  Elizabeth grabbed his sleeve as he pushed by. “Lloyd, no! Please don’t go,” she said.

  He patted her hand. “Don’t worry. It’s probably all a mistake. I’ll talk to him and see what’s going on.”

  Chavez looked at his men, then at Lloyd, and pointed to the doors.

  Lloyd walked stiffly ahead of Chavez toward the back of the room. As soon as they turned into the hall, a scuffle broke out.

  Deep shouts.

  A burst of gunshots sounded.

  Sheriff Wagner leaped into the aisle and bolted for the doors, his pistol drawn. When he had disappeared into the hall, the loud crack of a rifle rang out. And then another.

  Elizabeth drove to her feet and pushed past the knees of two older women sitting alongside her.

  “Help them!” she yelled to the men on the stage. Grabbing her skirts up with both hands, she broke into a hard run for the doors to the hall.

  “Stop her!” a male voice cried out.

  Councilmen rushed from the dais to join her, pulling their pistols as they did. She blinked in surprise. Half the men on that stage were armed. Running, shouting, they surged into the corridor after her and ran into the middle of a small war.

  More shots.

  The triple stained-glass windows overlooking the Rio Grande in the distance blew out with a blam! She threw herself against the wall.

  Boots, rifles, uniforms blurred past. Running councilmen shooting at soldiers, and soldiers shooting back. Bullets whined. Smoking black holes blew across the ceiling.

  Three soldiers lay in the hall. Seven others bolted for the stairway, chased by the councilmen behind, firing at them. Sheriff Wagner, shot in the leg, leaned against the wall and aimed at a soldier running past. His mouth tightened when the man staggered and fell.

  “Go!” Chavez shouted, pointing down the hall.

  Elizabeth snapped her head around. The major was running alone.

  “Lloyd!” she cried. Dear God, where is he?

  There! Halfway down the hall, Lloyd and a Mexican soldier lay sprawled facedown on the floor, unmoving. Icy coldness spread through her chest as she ran toward him. She dropped to her knees in the hall beside him and grabbed his shoulder to roll him over.

  Please, God, don’t let him be dead. Please . . .

  Her mouth twisted silently, and she knew he was gone, killed by one of the soldiers.

  Stunned by what was happening, she looked around, took in the chaos in the hall, the haze of blue smoke, the noise.

  Knees pumping, Major Chavez pounded after his soldiers for the stairway at the end of the hall. Mid-stride, he changed direction and reached his left arm at her. In one blinding instant she knew what he was going to do.

  She jum
ped to her feet and spun around to run. A heavy arm grabbed her.

  As he bore down on her, her gaze shot to his scarred cheek. She threw her hands up to ward him off, but he yanked her against him and crooked his arm around her throat. Using her as a shield, he held her in front of him and dragged her backward down the hall. High heels slipping on the polished floor, she clawed at his arm and tried to scream. No sound came out.

  Fear had dried up her throat.

  Chavez jammed the pistol barrel against her neck.

  “Stay back!” he yelled to the councilmen.

  The mayor wheeled around. “Hold your fire!” he shouted to the councilmen behind.

  Elizabeth wrenched away from the major, but tripped and stumbled to her knees. Ears ringing from the shots, she crawled against the wall. The hall reeked of spent gunpowder.

  Chavez grabbed her up again, threw her over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and ducked into the stairwell. Two at a time, he leaped down the steps.

  Hanging down his back, Elizabeth got a mouthful of air and found her voice. Kicking, screaming, she beat him with both fists.

  “Let me go! Let me go!”

  He kicked the outside door open and ran around the building to the hitching rails. The six soldiers who had escaped ahead of him were already on their horses and racing down the grassy slope for the National Freight Yards and the Rio Grande beyond.

  With Elizabeth over his shoulder, Chavez hauled himself into the saddle. He slammed her down hard in front of him and spurred the horse into a flying gallop for the river. They tore across the street, down the slope, and into the busy freight yards.