by Caryl McAdoo
Maybe she should’ve let Charley stay, though. It might make things easier. He could help the colonel drive the blacks back. She sighed. It would be deceptive not to let Charles know he had a son.
Certainly, she didn’t want to start her and Levi’s new life with such hanging in the closet. The man had a right to know the whole truth, and that was that. The situation wasn’t any more his fault than hers.
She would face Charles with Levi at her side; and everything would work out according to the Lord’s will. She’d prayed it, and she could trust the Him to see to it. She had to; He had to.
After all, hadn’t God Himself been the one to send Levi to rescue her? It couldn’t have been a coincidence. She rejected any outcome other than being one with the love of her life forever and ever.
Her hand went to her belly. Was that a kick? No, it had only been six weeks. Six weeks. How her life had changed.
Even if Charles hadn’t remarried and didn’t have other children—as she so hoped would be the case—she was pretty sure that he’d never accept her half-breed unborn.
And though Levi had, would the baby make a difference once she delivered? Rearing a dark-haired, dark-skinned little one was a whole other proposition. Why did her life have to get so messed up?
Wasn’t like she’d done anything wrong. Well, except for not submitting to her husband. But hadn’t she suffered enough for that small infraction? Would payment include losing Levi?
He smiled at her. He knew her so well and could always tell when things troubled her. But how could he not be, too? What must he be thinking about—confronting her husband? She smiled back then looked out the window.
New homesteads dotted the prairie. More people came out west everyday to start their new lives, and here she went, swaying to and fro, heading back east to start hers. Would she ever be able to settle down? Have a normal life again?
Once she did, if she did, she’d give herself a gift—a month of Sundays before she planned a trip anywhere.
Rebecca slipped her hand into Rose’s and squeezed. “Can you believe this buggy? Daddy traded a doctor and the blacks came as a part of the deal.”
Rose turned to her friend. “It is grand. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if your daddy would just take us all the way on to St. Louis?”
“I’m certain he would if Mama wasn’t so far along.”
“Oh, I was only fooling.”
The first building came into view, a livery Rose didn’t remember, and right past that, three new sawed-board houses. Clarksville must have doubled or even tripled in size during the five years she’d been gone.
A hard turn threw her into Rebecca, then the buggy stopped in front of an enormous, beautiful building. Eleven columns end-to-end supported the roof with its three chimneys and its second story balcony.
A sign over it read Donoho Hotel.
By the time the dust settled, the colonel opened her door and extended his hand. “Ladies, if you care to wait in the lobby, we’ll see to things out here.”
Inside the glamorous hotel, Rose turned a slow full circle taking it all in. To describe the Donoho’s luxurious décor as grand didn’t do it justice.
So many people filled the lobby—a few looked vaguely familiar—and many approached and greeted Rebecca, obviously loved and well respected in the community.
Again and again, she shared the good news of Sassy Fogelsong’s homecoming. What a lifetime ago—being Sassy. And how quickly she’d settled into being Rose, not Rosaleen, simply Levi’s Rose.
Her childhood friend introduced her to several new neighbors explaining that she had been thought dead, but in truth, stolen at age fifteen by the Comanche then rescued by her ranger brother who brought her home.
Thankful that her cape helped hide her belly, though its swelling hadn’t quite yet begun, Rose pasted a smile on and did her best to hide the discomfort her past caused.
After not too long, Levi came in followed by Charley who half-carried, half-dragged her carpet bag, the one Levi had bought her at Miss Sammy Jo’s lodge. The boy set it next to his partner’s that waited to the side of the lobby’s front door.
By the time her daddy and Wallace joined Rebecca, a small crowd gathered around Levi with boisterous greetings and many pats on his back. He made a great hometown hero, and she smiled, grateful that the public’s attention had turned.
What would they all think of him coming back home again with her—pregnant and showing by then—and her little fair-haired son?
Would they all assume she carried Levi’s baby? No doubt the busy bodies scuttlebutt would fly. And if they did, they’d sure be surprised once she gave birth to an Indian’s baby.
Oh, indeed, she’d planted a plenty tough row for her dear Levi to hoe. They’d probably all hate her for taking their champion and making him marry such an undeserving woman.
The colonel noted the large pile of bags then pulled out his pocket watch. “I’ll see to the tickets.” He nodded toward the front door. “We’ve got a bit of time if you ladies want to have a look around the square.”
“Oh, let’s, Rosaleen!” Rebecca looped her arm through Rose’s. “There’s a wonderful little millinery shop on the east side I’d love to show you.”
“Fine by me.” She turned toward her son. “Charley?”
He pushed his way through the crowd and slipped his hand into Levi’s. “I’m staying with Captain Bay-lor.”
She glanced at Levi and smiled.
He grinned back like a proud papa and picked the boy up. “Go ahead. We men will be right here when you get back.”
Rose walked out into the fresh air and took in the bustling town square. Home. She loved Red River County. Her heart hurt that she had to leave again so soon.
She’d wanted to ride out and see her folks’ place; see her middle brother who lived there and visit with his wife and the nieces and nephews she’d never even met. But all that would have to wait.
One shop after another, Rebecca showed her all around and introduced her to more folks. She’d never remember all their names.
On the boardwalk again after crossing the second dirt street, a wave of nausea swept over her. Between the growing baby and the rock of dread, room for her breakfast seemed non-existent.
She hated morning sickness.
“You okay?” Rebecca stopped in front of the grocery store. “You look a little green around the edges.”
“I’ll be fine, a little sick to my tummy is all.” She swallowed and blew out a long breath. “Come on, let’s get back to the Donoho.”
Her friend glanced past her and pointed. “Oh look, there it is! The stage is here.”
Levi helped Rose up the coach’s step. She loved his gentlemanly manners and the way he always treated her. The coach’s inside surprised her, much bigger than expected.
The three rows of seats soon filled. The last two men climbed up on the top.
“Ho, now.”
Leather slapped, chains rattled, then the coach lurched forward. Rose swallowed hard. She’d hate to throw up; good thing she grabbed a window seat just in case.
The stage swayed to the left pressing Levi’s leg against hers as the driver drove around the courthouse square then straightened out and headed east.
The team soon found a steady gait, and the swaying regulated itself a little. Miss Sue had said they’d run all the way, but Rose couldn’t see how the four horses could keep up such a pace.
All the way to Little Rock, she tried to hold her stomach steady. She’d sure be glad when the morning passed and took its dreadful nausea along with it. Maybe if she got her mind off it.
A passenger in the far seat, behind Wallace and to the side, cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Did I hear the young man there call you Captain Baylor?”
Levi gave the older man one nod. “Yes, sir.”
“So, you’re the Texas Ranger Levi Baylor?”
“Yes, sir, that would be me.”
Her son, who sat in his partner’s lap, puffed hi
s chest. “And that’s Sarg-ant Rusk.” He thumbed toward Wallace who had taken the bench seat across from Rebecca. “I’m Charley, their littlest partner.”
Rose stifled a laugh; she loved how Levi had taken the boy in hand and turned him from a Comanche warrior to a Texas Ranger in the short span of six weeks.
The man ignored the boy keeping a stern expression. “Well, to my way of thinking, you two should have killed that Buffalo Hump and the rest of them when you had the chance.”
Wallace faced the man. “Sir, we don’t kill anybody in cold blood, but you keep talking like an idiot in front of the ladies, I might make an exception.” He turned back and winked at Rebecca then mouthed a sorry.
Levi had seen it before, but wasn’t sure how his Bitty Beck would react to Wallace putting a fool in his place. Man, what an idiot talking like that in the company of women.
For sure he could have shot Buffalo Hump, maybe even got one or two more Comanche chiefs, but then he’d be dead, too, and Texas would have a way worse war on its plate.
Personally, he was past ready for some peace and quiet across the Republic, about as ready for this thing with Nightengale to be over, too.
Man, he hoped it didn’t get messy and drag on for months or even years. Shame he didn’t insist on waiting a day or two so that he could have talked with his attorney. What was the guy’s name?
Didn’t matter now. Uncle Henry swore by him and claimed he could work it all out one way or another if the need arose.
A part of him wished he’d taken Wallace up—before he found religion—on his offer to plug Nightengale. Good thing that small part didn’t make the important decisions.
Men couldn’t run around killing other men because of falling in love with their wives. Well, guess if they were Comanche, they could, but he wasn’t.
No, the renowned Texas Ranger Captain Levi Baylor had a reputation to uphold, except he never stood ten feet tall. He would admit to usually getting his man though.
No one he’d ever gone after remained free. That part was true.
Rose slipped her hand into his and squeezed leaning into him. “Aren’t we going too fast?”
He looked past her out the window. The mixture of hardwoods, cedars, and pines that lined the road did seem to whiz by. “Maybe, but Uncle said Little Rock by tomorrow evening.”
“How’s that possible? The horses will be dead before then.”
“No, no. The team only goes until the first station, ten or twelve miles at most. The coach gets a new set, and we get a chance to stretch our legs. Then on to the next stop and so on. We’ll keep on going through the night.”
He smiled. How could he live without her in his life? “Uncle said we may have to lay over in Little Rock. It’s a whole different stage line from there to Memphis. Then up river to St. Louis.”
After too many bumps and sways to count and several fairly steep hills, the coach leaned hard left turning south off the main road.
A bugle sounded, then shortly, the driver whoaed the team to a stop. The door opened, and a boy maybe twice Charley’s big stood back swiping at the settling dust.
“Best step lively iffin ya wants a good stretch. The old man’ll have ‘em changed out quick enough. Maw-maw’s got corn pone and fatback iffin ya got the coin. Water’s free, so long as ya don’t guzzle too much.”
Chapter
Thirty-One
Rose settled back into her window seat again. Levi took his place next to her, and Charley climbed into his lap. She held her hands out, but the boy shied away and cuddled into the man’s chest.
“Charley.” She pulled on his arm.
Levi ruffled his littlest partner’s hair and slightly shook his head. “He’s fine.”
She shrugged and leaned against the corner gazing out the window as the station man walked the spent horses toward the barn.
She loved both her fellows, she did, but the two teaming up against her had to stop. She was Charley’s mother, and he should rightfully love her the most.
But making him behave fell to her every-time. The man wanted him to be his little buddy; she couldn’t ever remember him disciplining him one time.
Oh, right, sure, jealousy. Exactly what she needed to be worrying about—her son loving the most wonderful man she’d ever known more than her. If Levi didn’t care for Charley sitting in his lap, why would she?
Especially not when the weight of much more important, life changing issues loomed on the near horizon; a part of her wished the stagecoach would go twice as fast. At the same time, another part wanted only to turn around and go back.
How she longed to forget all about Charles Nightengale, go on with her life as though he had died and never look back.
She stared into her lap. Hard to believe what she actually wished. If he were dead, certainly would make everything easier; no question then of her being with Levi forever.
Still, maybe she could be perfectly happy acting like Charles fell off the face of the earth, but would Levi? He’d never agree to such a charade. And truth be known, she couldn’t either.
It wouldn’t be fair to Charley. Even though he’d most likely never get to know his father, he ought to at least have the chance to meet him. But what if Charles tried laying claim to the boy?
There she went again, borrowing trouble. Everything was going to work out; Levi said so, and that settled it. He would see to it, never stop until she and Charley belonged to him.
She laughed at herself. What had she told her son? That no one owned him—or her—and no one ever would. Now all she wanted in the world was to belong to Levi Baylor, lock, stock, and barrel.
That he would see to it gave her great comfort, to be loved as she’d never known possible by the man whose every little grin took her breath away. If she only had Levi, she’d have it all, and that’s exactly what she wanted, the whole kit and caboodle.
Please, please, Lord.
Her hand went to her belly. She almost wished it bigger, to be further along and sure Charles would notice. What if he thought it was Levi’s baby? He might.
After all, he had no idea she’d spent five years with Bold Eagle. Would that be better? Levi called her pregnancy a good thing, but did he only say it because of Charles or did he really mean it?
Oh, God. Let this all be over. Make a way, send Your favor ahead and prepare Charles’s heart to grant the divorce. Don’t hate me, forgive me for loving Levi.
Right! Now she asked the Almighty Who clearly hated divorce to make a way for her to have one. At least He knew her heart, and her innocence in the whole thing, too. She never meant to forget her husband, her vows, fall in love with the ranger.
Not that leaving that morning so long ago when her husband said stay would please Him. She’d sinned, not submitted, made a bad decision. No doubt. But that surely wasn’t an unforgivable transgression.
And really, she’d repented. Five years as an Indian slave surely offered enough suffering and satisfied the consequences of her wrong choice. Could she even hope for God to be on her side?
On and on, the stagecoach raced through the piney woods, then after the fifth time the bugle sounded its arrival, the driver himself stood at the door in front of a two-story log structure.
“Thank you, folks, for riding the Clarksville Belle. It’s been my pleasure to be your driver.” He jerked his thumb toward the man standing next to him. “O’Reilly will take you on to Little Rock from here.”
The new driver tipped his hat. “We be pullin’ out a’ nine sharp by the big clock in the grand room there.” He motioned toward the building.
She loved his Irish accent.
“Got a schedule to keep now, so no lollygagging, or you’ll get yourself plum left b’hind.” He smiled revealing only three teeth that didn’t match up at all. Poor fellow, how did he ever chew?
The next morning, Rose took Levi’s hand and boarded the coach at eight-fifty, even though she and Rebecca had talked late into the night. As the beautiful tall clock chimed
the hour’s arrival, Wallace and Rebecca made their way out, bantering and laughing.
Rose wished she could work up a light humorous mood, but just couldn’t get there. As the last chime reverberated, the stage pulled out with three fewer passengers.
Only the old idiot man remained. What a fool to think he needed to tell two such renowned Texas Rangers how they should handle their business. Why, all over the Republic people respected and honored them both.
Charley—in and out of her and Levi’s lap before—took advantage of the extra room and stretched out. How the boy could sleep amazed her, but he did, deeply as though tomorrow might never come.
She wished.
Then mercifully, sometime between the ninth and tenth team change, she must have dozed off because she remembered leaning in the corner and resting her eyes in the beginning, but awoke with her head on Levi’s shoulder.
One of the quilts Aunt Sue insisted on sending lay spread over her and Levi’s laps, and a perfectly still Charley-sized lump bulged next to the man on the opposite side, also under the cover.
She cuddled in and pressed hard up against him. Exactly how she wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of her life. Well, a feather bed and pillow would be in order, but wherever she slept, everything would be fine as long as Levi lay beside her.
She looked up. “Hey.”
“Good morning.”
Giving a slight nod, she smiled. “A little nippy, thanks for the quilt.”
“You’re welcome. Hungry? I’ve got some of Uncle’s jerky.”
“No, not really.” She sat up and stretched her spine one way then the other. “Were you able to get any sleep?”
“Thirty winks or so.”
“Don’t believe him. He hasn’t slept since Plum Creek.”
She grinned at Wallace who rested against the far corner peering at her with one eye. One day, she needed to get that man alone and hear the whole story about that battle.
In the other corner, a curl hung over Rebecca’s eye. She tucked it behind her ear, looked out the window then around the coach. “Where’d the old man go?”
