by Lyn Horner
“After unloading our wagon, my partner and I decided to rest our oxen for a while and do some hunting. That’s when I first saw this valley. I knew right off I wanted to settle here, but this was all Indian land back then, so I figured I’d wait ’til the white settlements pushed west a little farther. Then I’d claim my headrights. Uh, that’s land granted by the Republic to early comers like me.
“In the meantime, the Mexican War came along in the spring of ’46, and when the call came, I volunteered. It was a year and a half before Old Fuss and Feathers Winfield Scott led us through the gates of Mexico City and I finally made it back to Texas. By then I’d had enough of living out of a saddlebag and being apart from my family. I wanted to build us a home on our own land, here. But Gabbie dug in her heels. She and the baby, David I mean, had stayed on in Galveston during the war. She’d gotten used to the city and made some friends. And she didn’t want to leave.
“Well, I didn’t like seeing her cry, so I let her have her way a while longer. But after another season of freighting, and seeing the settlers moving in, I knew I had to claim this land or lose it. So I ignored Gabbie’s tears and tantrums, and we pulled up stakes. Started up the Brazos in April, 1849, same year as the California gold rush. Sul and a couple of other hands hired on, and we picked up wild stock along the way. Gabbie was in a temper the whole trip, but I figured she’d come around once we got here.”
Reece shook his head, gray brows knitted. “I was dead wrong. She hated this place from the first. The Indians scared the liver out of her, even the peaceful ones, and she couldn’t take the loneliness. Even later when I was able to give her some of the things she missed, it was no good.”
He rubbed his bad leg absently and mused, “Maybe if there’d been another baby, it would have helped. Might have taken her mind off things. But she had a hard time birthing David and then she miscarried three times. The third time nearly killed her. After that I was afraid to touch her for fear of losing her. Not that she wanted anything to do with me by then.”
Pitying both of them but finding no words to express it, Jessie stared into her cold coffee.
“Anyhow,” Reecee said with a sigh, “we warred with each other all the time after that, with David in the middle. Gabbie never forgave me for bringing her here and ruining her life. She was always threatening to leave, and that made me mad as hell. I said things to hurt her and swore I’d never let her take my son away. Even so, if her family had ever answered her letters and forgiven her, I reckon she would have left me – and David – and gone running back to them.”
Jessie bit her lip, suddenly understanding why David had thought her ready to leave him back at CampDouglas. He’d heard his mother issue the threat so often that he’d come to expect it. But I’m not like her. He should know that by now.
“Might have been better if she had gone back there,” Reece added, gruff voice cracking. “At least she’d have lived.”
Jessie touched his hand, and he clutched hers like a lifeline. “H-how did she . . . how did ye lose her?”
He took a ragged breath. “I’d hired a new hand. Didn’t know it ’til later, but he was originally from Louisiana, part Creole, part Mexican. His name was Enriqué Villarreal.” Reece spit the name out as if it were poison. “A good lookin’ hombre, a smooth talker, thought himself a real ladies’ man. And evidently Gabbie thought so too. Or maybe she was attracted by his Creole background. I dunno. Whatever the reason, she took up with him, started sneakin’ around with him whenever I was away.”
“Oh, Reece, I’m so sorry,” Jessie murmured. “How could she?”
He glanced at her, then looked away. “It wasn’t all her doing. I should have told her I still loved her . . . but I didn’t. Until it was too late.” He fell into a long silence, and Jessie couldn’t bring herself to press him for more. Finally, he continued, “I don’t know if it was Gabbie’s idea or his, but the two of them decided to light out together. I was in a black rage when I found out, probably would have killed them both if I’d caught up with them sooner.” He sighed and shook his head. “But by the time I tracked them down in San Antonio, he was already dead and Gabbie . . . Gabbie was dying.”
Jessie gasped in shock. “But how? What happened?”
“A gun fight. Seems Enriqué had a knack for palming an extra card or two when he was in a poker game, but he wasn’t quite slick enough to fool some cowboy he tried to cheat. The man challenged him and they drew down on each other. Gabbie was there, and when she tried to stop the fight she took a bullet in her shoulder. Enriqué caught one between the eyes and dropped dead on the spot. Way too easy for that bastard.”
Reece was breathing hard and his face had turned dark red, making Jessie fear his heart might give out. But he took a deep breath and went on quietly, “Gabbie’s wound got infected and, like I said, she was dying when I found her. The doctor who took care of her told me she might have pulled through, but she just hadn’t put up much of a fight. Didn’t want to, I figure. She’d made up her mind to die because it was the only way she could be sure of escaping this place. And me.”
“Dear God,” Jessie uttered feebly.
“I held her while she slipped away and told her I loved her,” he said so softly Jessie could barely hear him. “She gave me a sad little smile. Then she was gone.” He was silent for a long while again, caught up in his torturous memories. Then he cleared his throat. “I thought about taking her to New Orleans, to be buried there where she’d wanted to be all along. But I didn’t trust her folks, especially her pa, to tend her grave and pay her some respect. So I brought her back here, to the place she hated, where I could look after her. Buried her up there.” He pointed to a small hillock west of the house dotted with trees. “I’m not sure to this day if that was the right thing to do.”
“Oh, surely ’twas, if only for David’s sake, so that he could visit her now and then.” Jessie paused and swallowed hard. “He must have been heartbroken, losing his mother at such a young age.”
“He was. And filled with so much anger, I thought that boy was going to explode. Don’t know who he blamed more, Gabbie or me, for her running off and leaving him like that. If Martha, my sister, hadn’t shown up here uninvited to take charge of him, I don’t know what would have happened.”
Tears welled in Jessie’s eyes as she visualized that angry little boy and imagined his pain. She’d known that kind of pain herself, even if it had come at an older age and under different circumstance. “I . . . I lost my own mother to typhoid three years ago,” she whispered.
Reece looked at her sharply. “Seems like you and my son have a lot in common. You told me how you defied your pa and left home, same as he did. Now there’s this.” His eyes probed into her. “Do you love him, Jessie?”
Dropping her gaze, she hesitated to admit the truth. But Reece had been painfully honest with her; she owed him the same honesty. “Aye, I do love him. But h-he’s told me he doesn’t believe in love, and I can see why now.”
“Yeah, well, maybe he’s got good reason, but he’s still a stubborn, prideful fool, same as me.” Chuckling, Reese gave Jessie a fond look. “While you, young lady, have the same hot temper as his mother, and he’s having a hard time figuring out how to deal with that.”
Stiffening, she tried to withdraw her hand, but he hung on.
“Don’t go getting your back up. Just hear me out, all right?”
Jessie forced herself to relax. “Very well.”
Reece nodded. “Good. Now, I’ve seen the way David looks at you when you’re not aware of it, missy. He loves you, plain as day, but he’s gun-shy, and as you said yourself, you now know why. But I’m betting he’ll come around if you just take it slow and gentle.” He smiled and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “If you don’t mind taking an old man’s advice.”
Jessie stared at him. Could he be right? Did David love her? Sweet Mary, did she dare believe it? As if in answer, her fateful water vision from last April, of the man with gray-green eyes, f
lashed through her mind. She saw again the unmistakable love in those eyes – David’s eyes – and she acknowledged that her visions seldom lied.
She returned her father-in-law’s smile. “Thank ye, Reece. Indeed I will try to take your advice.” She narrowed her eyes. “But I’d better not find out me husband’s been rollin’ around in the dirt again with that vixen in pants. Or he’ll be wishin’ he hadn’t!”
Reece roared with laughter. “Just give me time to get out of the way before you start shooting, daughter.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Five days later, Jessie walked in from the cookhouse carrying a platter of fried chicken intended for the noon meal. When she heard David’s voice, she froze. Her heart leapt in her chest, madly hammering out the refrain in her head: He’s home! He’s home! He’s home!
Hearing Reece’s indistinct reply coming from the study, she let her feet carry her in that direction. She stopped in the open doorway. Reece sat behind his desk. David stood in a hipshot stance facing him, his back to the door. Dressed in Levis and a tan shirt that stuck damply to his back, he casually slapped his hat against his leg.
One moment he was saying something about a hidden canyon. Then she either made a sound or he sensed her presence, for he straightened suddenly and pivoted to face her. His nostrils flared and the corners of his mouth curled upward just a bit. Was he as glad to see her as she was to see him?
“Hello, Jessie,” he said.
“H-hello,” she stammered. She had no idea what to say now that he was finally here. Licking her dry lips, she noticed the fine coating of dust on his face, his several days’ growth of beard and the odor of sweat and horse that drifted off of him. None of it mattered. She yearned to rid herself of the platter she carried and hurl herself against him, to thread her fingers through his hair and drag his mouth down to hers. The idea brought hot blood rushing up her throat into her cheeks.
David obviously noticed, because a knowing light entered his eyes and he grinned. Flustered, she dropped her gaze to his tanned throat.
“Looks like dinner’s ready. Too bad I don’t have much time to enjoy it right now,” he drawled in a husky tone that set off fireworks inside her, giving her the feeling he wasn’t talking only about food. Lifting her gaze, she stared into his familiar, watchful eyes.
Caught by her bluebonnet stare, David sucked in his breath. God, he wanted so badly to grab her and kiss her! And from her hungry expression, she wanted the same thing. She couldn’t look at him like that and still be furious at him over Lil Crawford, could she? She’d better not be, because once he wound up this business with the rustlers, he meant to take her straight to bed. He might keep her there for a week or two to make up for all the long nights he’d spent without her. Then maybe she’d get it through her head that she was the only woman for him.
“A man has to eat,” his father remarked in an amused tone, making David wonder if he’d guessed his lusty thoughts.
Dragging his eyes from Jessie, he swung around and, by sheer will, forced himself to concentrate on the problem at hand. “If we don’t move fast, it may be too late. Foster and his boys seemed mighty interested in where I went during the roundup, and they’re bound to wonder where I disappeared to for the past two days. If they’re in with that bunch I spotted at the canyon, they might decide to move the cattle before we can set a trap, and I’ll never get that proof I promised you.”
“You’ve done plenty already. You found the stolen cattle when no one else could,” Pa said gruffly. “But you can’t tackle the rustlers with only Sul and Shorty. You’re going to need help.”
“I know,” David replied, grateful for the words of praise. “That’s why I sent Shorty out to gather up the crew and order them back here. With luck a few are already on their way.”
“Glad to hear it, but some won’t make it back in time.” As he spoke, Pa pushed to his feet and made his way slowly around the desk. “I’m going to send Sul with word to the Crawfords.”
David frowned. “Del Crawford nearly quit the roundup because of me. You think he’ll lift a finger to help me when he believes I jilted his little girl?” Glancing at Jessie, he saw her stiffen at his reference to Lil. She said nothing, but when she warily met his gaze, he read suspicion in her eyes. Damnation! He had no time for this now. Why couldn’t she just trust him?
“Del’s not a fool,” Pa replied, drawing his attention, “and he’ll listen to Jeb. They’ll help if it means recovering their stock. I expect Sul’s out in the barn. Excuse me, missy.”
Jessie backed out of the doorway, letting him pass. As David followed him out, she looked up and asked, “You think Foster and his friends are the rustlers your father told me about?”
“Could be, along with some others.” David relieved her of her heavy platter and sniffed at the chicken it held. “Mmm, this sure smells good. Maybe I’ll try some after all.”
“You’re planning to catch them red-handed, is that it?” she persisted.
Sighing at her refusal to be distracted, he nodded. “Rustling’s a hanging crime in these parts. We need proof that Foster and his three boys really are part of the gang.”
“And there’s likely to be a fight, aye?”
David noticed her cheeks had lost their warm color, and he read worry in her eyes. Worry for him? He liked that a whole lot better than the suspicion he’d seen there moments ago.
“Could be.” He mustered a lazy grin. “It’s been a while since I was in a good fight. I’ve kinda missed it.”
She caught his double meaning. Her lips parted and her breasts suddenly rose and fell faster. Staring into her eyes, he was achingly aware of how close she stood, and of her sweet lilac and woman scent mingling with the chicken’s aroma. His body reacted immediately. A tide of desire washed through him, settling hot and heavy in his groin.
“We’d better go eat,” he said half-angrily. What he wanted to do was drop the platter, lay Jessie on his father’s desk and throw up her skirts.
* * *
The recent cold had given way to a another warm spell. Standing by the corral, David slung his buckskin jacket over the top rail and rolled up his shirtsleeves as he glanced at the half dozen weary men gathered around him. Foster and his cronies were not among them. They’d gotten word from Shorty to report back to the homestead along with these men, but the foursome had ignored the order. Instead, they’d picked up and ridden due west away from the ranch. For David that proved their guilt.
He didn’t waste time. “Boys, I found out where those cow thieves have been hiding out.” Ignoring the startled oaths his announcement drew, he went on, “Up ’til now they’ve done a good job of wiping out their trail, but I got to wondering if they were always so careful once they put some miles between them and the ranches they raided. So, I tried riding a wider loop, and I cut tracks of a small herd yesterday, over to the west. They led into HamiltonCounty, to a box canyon where the gang’s been caching the stolen cattle.”
“You saw ’em?” one of the men asked.
“I did. Watched them doctoring brands, too.”
“No good yahoos!” Sul opined, stuffing a chaw of tobacco between his lower lip and gums. He’d just returned from the Double C moments ago, having left the Crawford brothers arguing over whether to help capture the rustlers or sit out the party.
“We need to have us a lynching bee,” another of the hands declared, drawing a chorus of angry agreement.
“Whoa, let me finish,” David said, holding up his hand. When they quieted down, he continued, “Now, I’ve had my suspicions about Wes Foster and his pals. And as I see it, by lighting out the way they did, the four of them just proved they’re in on the rustling. I’m betting they smelled trouble and took off to warn the rest of their gang. If I’m right, we need to move fast to stop them from getting away.”
Glancing off down the valley, he saw no sign of the Crawfords. If they didn’t get here damn soon, he intended to leave without them, never mind his father’s objections.
“There’s just one thing,” Sul said, drawing David’s attention. “How’d they drive the beeves all the way over to HamiltonCounty and make it back here without us knowin’ they was gone?”
“Good question. The way I figure, Foster and his three sidekicks did the actual raiding. Then they’d trail the stolen cattle west, brushing out their trail along the way until they met up with the rest of their gang. Those boys would drive the herd on to the canyon while Foster and the other three hightailed it back here before they were missed.”
Sul nodded. “Makes sense. Pretty slick deal, and I just betcha Foster’s the boss man. The bastard likes to be in charge. He probably has it all set up to sell the herd to some sidewinder who don’t mind buying stolen beeves.” Shaking his head in disgust, he shot tobacco juice at an unlucky fly perched on the fence.
“That’s my guess, too. But I aim to upset his plans.” Squatting, David said, “The canyon’s bowl-shaped with a narrow neck.” He drew a rough outline in the dirt. “There’s a water hole in the center, and the men are camped near it. I saw three guarding the herd. With Foster and the other three, that makes seven we’ll have to handle. Could be more I didn’t spot, and they’ll likely have a lookout . . . .”
He broke off, hearing a muffled drumming of hooves. Rising, he spotted a group of riders coming up the valley. They numbered five, maybe six.
“That’s Del Crawford’s big gray in front,” Sul said. “Jeb must have talked him around.”
With a grim nod, David ordered, “Saddle fresh horses, men, and check your loads.”
