Hearts Stolen (Texas Romance Series Book 2)

by Caryl McAdoo

  A little piece up the way, the captain pointed to a pile of rocks. “That’s our original boundary marker. I can still remember when Dad and Uncle Andy gathered those stones; must have been about Charley’s age because Dad passed when I was five.”

  Wallace said something back to the captain, but Laura didn’t hear exactly what. The time she dreaded for so long had come. It hung over her like a dark thunderhead about to explode and rain pain and disappointment down on her head and heart.

  She glanced at her ranger. Was this the day she would lose him forever? She sighed and snuggled her baby in close.

  If only he were Lacey’s real pap, she’d have him for sure.

  A few miles further north, Levi stopped next to a tree-lined lane. A small block of black dirt, plowed and ready for planting, lay on the north side. He pointed up the road. “We’re here.”

  Wallace drove the wagon past another bigger, dark green block—maybe eight or ten acres—with wheat or oats. Laura never was able to tell the difference, but didn’t matter much.

  Nothing mattered now but hanging onto the man she wanted for her baby’s pap—and the one she wanted to be her husband more than she’d ever wanted anything in her whole life.

  What would she do if Rebecca stole his heart away?

  She wanted to cry every tear or scream her insides out or run away to the farthest corner of the wild west territory—maybe all the way to California. But how could she?

  She couldn’t even run to her own family. And what would she scream? I love Wallace Rusk and want him to be mine alone forever? She hooked her arm through his; it seemed so natural.

  He patted her hand, but didn’t say anything.

  Just past the bigger block of winter grass, nestled in next to a dry creek, a small log house belched a steady stream of smoke. Levi, who rode next to Wallace’s side of the wagon, nodded toward the structure. “Our first home here. Uncle Henry and I turned it into a smokehouse.”

  The wagon crossed a heavy timber bridge and rolled up a little hill. A really big block of farmland unfolded before the wagon on both sides of the road. Like the smaller plot earlier, its rich black dirt sat prepared awaiting spring planting.

  How could the captain’s family work so much land? Miss Sassy said they only had baby girls and the biggest could be, what? Ten or eleven years old?

  On past that seventy or eighty acres, the road topped a little knoll exposing more farmland and a beautiful small lake to the north. Timber surrounded another field of plowed black dirt at the bottom of a rolling hill.

  Laura couldn’t even imagine owning so much property. Just before the bottomland, the road turned left and headed uphill again. She’d seen some pretty places in her days, but never nothing like this.

  At the top of the hill sprawled a two story, sawed-board house like the ones she’d seen in Austin, only prettier and fancier with lots of little scrolls and swoop do-daddies. The captain’s family must be plenty rich; she’d never dreamed Rebecca was a real princess, but maybe it could work in her favor.

  Maybe she did have a chance of winning her Wallace’s heart after all. Her pap always said money ran to money; and far as she knew, her ranger didn’t have that much, not that it mattered any to her. She weren’t after his purse, only wanted his heart, and she wanted that more’n any other thing.

  A single ray of hope left a bit of brightness in her soul, but the storm cloud still loomed tall and dark and threatening. She hated the doubt. She hated that him and the captain was so close, and she hated Rebecca Ruth Baylor even though she’d never met her. She looked to the sky and silently prayed.

  Lord, please don’t let her want my Wallace. Let her love someone else or have a big wart on her nose. Amen.

  Several little girls sat in a circle on the broad front porch, all looking hard in the center. The littlest one facing out looked up and pointed toward the wagon. Another one turned then got up and hopped off the porch. She held her hands to her cheeks and squealed and jumped up and down.

  The captain spurred his horse up the hill, jumped off, then scooped the closest one into his arms. The others ran toward him howling his name.

  “Mama! Daddy! Come quick!”

  “Levi’s here! Hurry!”

  “Rebecca! Levi’s home!”

  Wallace reined the mules to a stop short of the front hitching post, set the brake, then stepped down. Sassy dismounted, fetched Charley off the filly, and then tossed Wallace the reins of both their horses.

  With her son in her arms, she walked toward the gaggle of little girls hugging on Levi. Folks poured out of the house, both white and to his surprise, black.

  Had Levi ever mentioned his family owning slaves?

  Then she waltzed through the door, stared only a moment before she burst into a run to join her sisters mobbing the captain. Rebecca Baylor. How long had he waited? How long had he dreamed?

  His heart stopped dead. He tried but couldn’t swallow. The lady was exactly as he’d pictured her, except maybe even prettier than her brother claimed.

  All the chatter and laughs and hugs warmed Wallace’s heart. He’d never seen anything like it. Not ever.

  Laura slipped up beside him. He looked down. Tears filled her eyes. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt her, but she had to understand. She sniffed then wiped her cheeks. He looked back to his partner’s sister-cousin. Mercy! To call her beautiful would be a slight.

  Colonel Buckmeyer eased down the steps with a pregnant lady on his arm, had to be Levi’s Aunt Sue. The littlest lady—around Charley’s age—hung back clinging to her mother’s skirt. The colonel stood beside her with his arm around her exceptionally-extended waist. She must be overdue.

  The hugs and kisses flowed, then the squeals started over again when Rebecca noticed Sassy and Charley.

  “Rosaleen Fogelsong!”

  “Yes, ma’am, in the flesh.”

  Tears flowed. Wallace had to blink away a few himself, then it was his and Laura’s turn. He howdied the colonel and Miss Sue; then Levi with a little Buckmeyer lady on each side, introduced him.

  “Bitti Beck, this is Wallace Rusk. Partner, meet my sister Rebecca Ruth Baylor.”

  Wallace bowed, like some fancy man, then immediately wished he hadn’t. “Levi lied about you, Miss Rebecca.”

  She looked a little startled from him to her brother then back. “How’s that?”

  “Captain claimed you were beautiful, and that word… It just doesn’t do you justice.”

  She smiled. “Well, thank you, Mister Rusk, that’s very kind of you. And if the papers are to be believed, I owe you for saving my brother from certain death on numerous occasions.”

  Wallace wanted to agree, but bit back the words; he couldn’t start out lying to her. “Truth be told, it was the other way around. Now your brother did leave me alone too many times in too many saloons, but I’m a changed man now.”

  “Indeed! Guess you’ll have to tell me the real story sometime.”

  “Love to.” Why? Why had he said that word? Would she take it wrong? Would Laura? Laura! He’d forgot all about her. He turned sideways, withdrawing his arm from her grip then used it to point her out. Good gracious, he was acting like an idiot.

  Laura gave him a weird look.

  Rebecca smiled.

  “May I introduce my friend, Laura Langley.”

  His friend? His friend!

  Laura faced the beautiful princess and willed her lips to smile pleasantly; she would keep her words to a few. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Don’t you be ma’aming me, call me Rebecca. It’s good to meet you, too.”

  Her face burned, it must be a bright red. She uncovered the baby in an attempt to draw the attention away from herself. “And this here’s my little Lacey Rose.”

  “Oh, she is beautiful, Laura. You must be so proud.”

  She squatted to show her off to all the little Buckmeyer sisters, and promised all the young ladies they could have a turn at holding her once she woke u
p. Wouldn’t do for her to do or say anything more that would embarrass Wallace.

  Someway, she had to make him see that a spoiled rich girl, no matter how pretty, wasn’t what he needed. But how? Her pap said you never hitched no race horse up to a plow, and you didn’t race no mules.

  Nope, she and Wallace were perfect for each other, and somehow, someway, she had to make him see what she knew to be true.

  Finally, the hugging and kissing ended, and this old slave mammy rang the dinner bell.

  Laura had never seen anything that’d compare with the house’s insides. Why, the dining room were as big or bigger than Miss Sammie Jo’s lodge and everyone started sitting at the longest table she’d ever laid eyes on.

  The biggest, brownest beautiful turkey sat atop a platter at one end. She went to counting spots, but Miss Sue interrupted her to show her where she could lay down her sleeping baby.

  When she led her back into the Thanksgiving dinner, she gave her a seat across the table from Wallace. She couldn’t believe it. The princess and her mam helped them slaves carry in the rest of the food.

  Then the darkies sat right down at the very same table with the family. Slaves didn’t eat with white folks.

  If her pap were here, he’d get up and walk out. But he weren’t, and she wasn’t about to do no such a thing. She ain’t never eat such a meal or with such fancy silver.

  Oh my, no. Guess it weren’t going to bother her none at all if the slaves ate. Not if it didn’t bother the high and mighty Buckmeyers.

  Then the princess sat down. Right next to her Wallace. Now that just weren’t right, no way should she be acting like some saloon hussy throwing herself at a man obviously spoken for.

  Why, for all she knew, Wallace could be Lacey’s pap. No, no, no. This weren’t right, not one chigger. She watched them like a hawk. Smiling an’ talking like they’s old friends. Touchin’ elbows. Nothing was right about it! None of it.

  Old man Buckmeyer, a mighty handsome man, tapped his glass with a spoon then grinned. “Let’s pray.”

  Everyone hushed and bowed their heads, but Laura couldn’t not peek. At least, Wallace tore his eyes off the princess long enough to bow his head.

  “Father God, what a blessing You have bestowed on our home this Thanksgiving Day. Our hearts are full of love and gratitude toward You. Thank You, Lord, for this food and for every soul who sits at our table. Bless it and them. Amen.”

  She liked short blessings. Seemed some preacher men thought they had to talk to the Almighty until the food got cold. The dinner tasted wonderful, except it were goin’ to sour her milk if Wallace didn’t stop grinning like a kid getting his first pup at Missy Prissy.

  “So you were with the Comanche, too?”

  She forced herself to pull her eyes off her man and the witchie woman casting her spell on him to face the darkie sittin’ next to Wallace. “Yessum, that be right. Raiding party went and snatched me off my pap’s place better’n a year ago.”

  The young man shook his head. “That’s terrible. Praise God, you were rescued.”

  Nodding, she wondered if it were something to praise the Almighty over? She glanced at Wallace, all excited chatting with Levi’s sister like Laura weren’t sittin’ right there across the table.

  She gazed back to the light-skinned slave. She ain’t never actually talked to a black man before.

  He’d said something to the darkie sittin’ next to her giving Laura the chance to look him over good. A right handsome man hisself, but what did a white person say to a slave?

  “Yes, two hundred acres of cotton.”

  The words turned her head. Had she heard him right? That’d be a right powerful load of lint the man at the head of the table spoke of. “How can that be?”

  Neither he or Levi seemed to hear her question; leastwise they didn’t answer, but the darkie must have. He smiled at her like he were regular people, gave her a smile.

  “Back home on the delta, we oversaw a thousand acres. Two hundred here will just be the start. Once we bust out more bottom land, we should be easily able to double that.”

  Wallace couldn’t seem to take his peepers off Prissy Missy even long enough to eat his food. Didn’t look like he’d even ate one bite. Her chest tightened, and she looked back to the young black man who smiled with the whitest pearly whites she done ever seen. “And where be home?”

  He sat down his fork. “New Orleans used to be, but I came here about a year ago. Mister Henry made a deal with my father right after we were emancipated.”

  She didn’t know that word. Seemed this darkie weren’t no regular kind of slave. “That so? I heared tell that New Orleans gots lots of them river steamboats? You ever rode on one?”

  “Just the once, on the trip here. It was truly grand.”

  She figured it had to be, cutting through the water without lifting a finger. Wallace kept hisself so in Princess Rebecca’s business, it were plain sickening. She glanced back to the darkie, but he weren’t really so dark, and his hair weren’t nappy at all, kind of wavy and soft looking instead. She’d like to touch it.

  Some slaves were mixed blood, part white and part black, made them a real purty creamy chocolate color. Just like her Lacey were part Indian. They even had a word for them—not half-breeds like part Indian—but she couldn’t bring it up.

  Maybe that’s what he meant about his pap making a deal with the Buckmeyers. She shook her head at the thought. How could a man do such a thing? “I’s truly sorry your pap done sold you to Mister Henry, and you had to leave your home.”

  The darkie laughed. “No, I apologize. I never meant to mislead you. My whole family moved here together. That’s my father.” He pointed his fork toward an older slave with a heavy frostin’ over his ears sittin’ at the end of the table talkin’ up a storm with the Captain and his Uncle. “We’re all freemen now. Our master set us free when he died, but even before that, he didn’t treat us like slaves.”

  She looked around the table. All the darkies were freemen? Just like her? “What were that word you used? Manciated?”

  “Emancipated?”

  “Yessum, that’s it. Means you been set free?”

  He flashed his pearly whites again; she liked his smile. “Yes, ma’am. Exactly right.” He extended his hand and bowed his head slightly. “I’m Jean Paul.”

  “My name’s Laura. I were a slave once, but the rangers emancipated me.” She glanced at Wallace, who for some reason smiled back at her this time. Had he noticed she’d been having her own self a visit with this handsome freeman?

  Maybe he’d gone and had hisself a twinge of regret over ignoring her so and paying so much attention to the precious princess. She looked back to the young man, batted her eyelashes, and smiled.

  He gave her one slow nod then looked her right in the eye. “Guess we have something in common.”

  She nodded. Maybe this freeman were exactly what she needed to snatch her Wallace right out of the pretty princess’s paws.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Nine

  Levi tossed a good forkful of hay over the stall’s gate then faced his uncle. “You know for sure Nightengale moved to St. Louis?”

  “Yes, we’ve been hauling his timber to him for years now.”

  He leaned on the pitch fork. “Ever been to St. Louis?”

  “A few times; nice enough place, but it isn’t Texas.” Henry looked to both ends of the barn then leaned in close. “What’s going on with you and Rose, son?”

  Levi studied his boots for a bit. This man wasn’t blood, but for sure the closest thing he had to a father. He raised his head and looked him in the eye. “We love each other.”

  “She carrying your baby?”

  “No, sir.”

  His uncle put a hand on Levi’s shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. “Seems to me you’ve gone and picked a hard row to hoe.”

  Levi laughed. “You took on me and Beck; Charley and this new baby couldn’t be any worse.”

  “Point taken. Y
ou thinking of going up river?”

  “Rose wants to run off, but I told her we had to face him.”

  “Well, I’d expect that of you. I take it she’s going to ask for a divorce?”

  “We’re hoping he doesn’t want her anymore, but if it comes to it, I’ll….” Levi let the words drift off. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but no way would he leave her and Charley with Nightengale. He couldn’t.

  “Divorce is an ugly business, but don’t make the mistake Jackson did; get the paperwork right. Who knows, you might want to run for office one day. And for sure don’t get into a fight with the man. Let the lawyers handle it. Lord knows we pay the bloodsuckers enough already.”

  Levi hated that getting back to the Red River Valley didn’t mean the journey was going to be over, hated that he had to go all the way to Missouri, but he’d go anywhere and do anything it took to make Rose his own. “So, you got a fresh set of mules you’d care to trade?”

  “For sure, but you can get there way faster taking the stage.”

  “The stage comes to Clarksville? When did that happen?”

  “Couple of years now; the Belle runs from the square to Little Rock, from there it isn’t far to Memphis, then you could grab a steamboat all the way to St. Louis. Altogether, shouldn’t take more than ten days to two weeks at the most.”

  “Two weeks? You sure about that?”

  Henry laughed. “Oh, I might be off a day or two, but it beats mule skinning by a month of Sundays.”

  Man, it sure would. Levi grinned. “Where’d Wallace put the wagon? I’ve got some things for the little ladies.” He lowered his voice. “I got you some newspapers, too, and I picked up two more head rights.”

  “Excellent. You hear Clarksville has its own paper now?”

  “Yes, sir. When did that happen?”

  “Earlier this year. The Northern Standard. You’ll have to meet Charles DeMorse, the editor. Great guy.” He motioned for Levi to follow. “Come on, the wagon’s in the big barn.”

  Rose wanted to cry, but instead, she smiled and made nice with each gift Levi passed out. Getting Charley a surprise, too, was just like him and one more reason that she loved him so.