"I'd like to pay you," she said instead.
"You can pay me by keeping a closer watch on your daughter. Anyone could have come along and carried her off. It's dangerous out here, ma'am."
He was the most dangerous person Casey had seen so far. She turned her back to him, allowing him to believe that she was jenny's mother.
"You have our gratitude," she said in a voice that implied the opposite. She felt some satisfaction in the fact that he was as soaked to the skin as she was. She hoped his boots were full of water.
"Your gratitude and a nickel will get you nothing out here. This country is no place for folks who don't even know how to cross a river."
She turned and glared at him.
"Ma'am, if your husband were from around here, he'd have known there were rocks in this part of the river. If you had gone fifty yards downstream, you could have crossed with no trouble at all."
He had driven the point home. She watched him adjust his hat as he gave her a dark look. "If you are figuring on camping around here, I think I should warn you that you are on private property."
She returned his frown with one of her own. "Are you saying you own this land?"
"Nope. I'm just riding through. And, if I were you, when your husband returns, I'd advise him to do the same."
"This is the Spanish Spur ranch, isn't it?" Sam asked.
"That's what they call it. If you are wise, you'll load up and keep going until you are clear of this place."
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that this was their land, and he was the trespasser. Instead, she watched him mount his horse and ride away.
"Sam, if that was what they call `Texas hospitality,' I want none of it."
"He did do us a good turn," her brother reminded her. "But he didn't give his name, and he didn't ask for ours."
"I hope we have seen the last of him," she answered. "He is an overbearing, arrogant man." She frowned in contemplation. "What do you suppose he meant by warning us off our own land? It's strange, don't you think?"
"Maybe we should have asked him."
Jenny drew back as she studied her sister. "You look so funny with mud all over your face. I wish I could have some on mine."
"Little girl," Casey said in annoyance, "don't you ever run away again. You could have been lost. What if that man had taken you away from us?"
Jenny lowered her head-she wasn't accustomed to Casey scolding her in such a hard tone. "He wouldn't wear my flower," she said forlornly.
Casey set her sister on her feet. "You stay right here while Sam and I load everything back in the wagon-and don't move from this spot."
Glaring, the child sat down hard and folded her arms across her chest in defiance. "I'm not going with you to our new home. I'm staying here all by myself. Then when I get hungry, I'll probably die, and you'll be sorry you talked so mean to me."
Casey was already sorry. To make amends she bent down and placed a kiss on the child's cheek, which did nothing to soften jenny's expression.
"Let's get busy," Sam interjected, laying his rifle on the wagon seat so he could get to it in a hurry. "It'll probably be dark before we reach the house."
Casey knelt at the river and washed the mud from her face, then spoke encouragingly to her brother. "We made it, Sam. Just like Papa would have expected us to."
A smile tugged at Sam's lips. "Papa would have been proud of us, wouldn't he?"
"That he would."
By the time they were finally ready to leave, the sun shone on the high cliffs on the other side of the river, washing them in a red glow. As they got farther away from the Brazos, the land leveled off to scrub brush, mesquite trees, and cactus.
Sam balanced jenny on his knee, watching as Casey drove the team. "This country is not a bit like Virginia," he said, reflecting her own thoughts.
"No, it isn't. And we are all feeling somewhat lost at the moment. We know next to nothing about ranching and raising cattle."
"We can learn," Sam said hopefully.
"We didn't know how to survive on the trail, but we did it. We came this far against almost impossible odds. We'll learn what we need to know, and figure out the rest as we go along." She tightened her hands on the reins. "We'll do whatever it takes to make this our-"
"I see a house!" Jenny cried, waving her arms. "Casey, Sam, it must be like our big house back home-the one the soldiers burned up."
Casey reined in the team, and they all quietly stared at the scene before them as their excitement turned to disappointment. The house was a Spanish-style structure that had long been neglected and stood in desperate need of repair. In the distance there was a large barn, as well as several outbuildings she couldn't identify.
As far as Casey could tell, there were no animals and no people about. The place looked as if it had been deserted for a long time.
As Casey urged the horses forward, she noticed there was a brick well with a wooden bucket hang ing from a tattered rope. That was something, anyway-at least they wouldn't have to depend on the river for their water-if the well water was still good.
She met Sam's gaze and felt his discouragement.
"The house we lived in after ours burned was much smaller than this one," she said brightly. "And this is our home-that one wasn't. Think of it this way: we have all the time in the world to make repairs."
Sam knew she was trying to be cheerful for his sake, but he was old enough to be told the truth. "How much money do we have to make those repairs?"
She nodded at Jenny, who was scrambling over the side of the wagon. When she dropped to the ground and ran toward the house as fast as her little legs would take her, Casey answered her brother. "I have in my possession forty-seven dollars. In the letter Papa got from that attorney, Mr. Murdock, he wrote that we were to come to his office as soon as we arrived. The letter was mailed from a town called Mariposa Springs. I think it's possible that Uncle Bob may have left us in debt, and there may even be back taxes to pay on the ranch."
Sam looked around. "It certainly doesn't appear to have been a prosperous ranch."
"No, it doesn't."
jenny came running back, laughing with delight. "This is the best house I have ever seen! And you will never guess what! We get to live with chickens!" She was so excited, she was jumping up and down. "I saw them right there in the house!"
Casey and Sam exchanged glances as Sam lifted Jenny up in his arms.
"Our welcoming committee," Sam observed with irony.
"Chickens," Casey said in a stunned voice.
Casey stepped over broken glass and scattered debris to reach the rickety porch step. A slight breeze caught the door, and it creaked back and forth with only one good hinge to hold it in place. Her heart plummeted as she stepped into the dark interior. There was no furniture at all, and she could not identify the awful odor that permeated the air, making her want to gag.
She moved cautiously through the first room, holding her hand over her nose. She didn't take a deep breath until she moved into the kitchen. She rushed for the window, which was stuck. She pushed and tugged until she was finally able to shove it open, letting in fresh air.
She hung herself out the window for a moment. Then she glanced about the kitchen. Mercifully, there was a large cookstove and an open hearth. It must have once been a nice kitchen. There even appeared to have been water at one time, because there was a broken pump handle on the floor.
She backtracked through the front room and found what must have been her uncle's bedroom. It was now dreary, dismal, and empty. With a heavy heart, she returned to the main room and almost stumbled over a ladder that led up to a loft, which must have served as a second bedroom. At the moment it seemed to be serving as a chicken roost.
Jenny had been right. Huddled in the rafters, clucking their annoyance at being disturbed, was a flock of chickens! She closed her eyes and tried not to think about what she had just stepped in that squished beneath her shoe. She tried to imagine the house as it might once ha
ve been, but she could think only about the work it would take to make it livable once more.
Sam stood in the doorway, holding jenny's hand. "The barn is in bad shape and will need a lot of repairing. The corrals are not too bad, though-they just need a few boards replaced. And, Casey, there is a small two-room cabin on the other side of the bunkhouse, and someone is living in it. There was a pot of coffee on the back of the stove, and it was still hot. But no one seemed to be around at the moment."
"I wanted to wait for them. Sam wouldn't let me," Jenny said, jerking her hand from her brother's.
"It's probably someone who worked for Uncle Bob." Casey tried to gather her wits about her. "It's too late to do anything tonight, so it looks like we'll be spending another night under the stars."
Jenny had broken away from Sam and was headed for the ladder. "I'm going to sleep with the chickens."
Sam caught up with her and swung her into his arms, but not before she had stepped in chicken droppings.
Casey groaned as she untied her sister's shoes and held them away from her nose. "The first thing I want you to do tomorrow is to fix that door. I'll be evicting the chickens."
Jenny seemed to be the only one who was happy about their situation. This was certainly not the welcome they had hoped for.
"Did you see any sign of stock, Sam?"
"None whatsoever-not cattle or horses. And it doesn't look like there has been any here in a long time."
Casey let out her breath. "It's just as well. We wouldn't know what to do with-"
"Don't no one move!" A female voice cut through the silence and echoed around the empty house. "I got a gun aimed at your back, and I know how to use it."
Casey turned slowly to face the newcomer, who certainly did have a rifle trained on her. "Who are you?" she asked, hoping the woman wasn't deranged.
"Now, seeing as how you three are the intruders, I'll be the one asking the questions. There ain't going to be no squatters on this land. I drove a family off last month, and I'm telling you to leave right now."
The woman was the most unusual person Casey had ever seen. She could not be over four feet tall; she was angular and thin, her chin sharp and prominent. She wore a gray skirt with the hem tucked into her belt, showing a pair of cowboy boots and a pair of men's red long johns. Her gray hair was braided and then twisted into a knot on the top of her head. Her eyes were dark, maybe brown-it was hard to tell in the dim light.
Sam moved closer to Casey, and she handed Jenny to him, then stepped in front of them.
.We aren't intruders; this is our land," Casey stated clearly.
A doubtful expression moved over the woman's face, but she loosened her grip on the rifle, aiming it at the floor. "Now, I know who this ranch belongs to, and the last time I looked, it surely wasn't you three. You have the look of squatters to me."
"You are mistaken," Sam said, setting jenny down and pushing her behind him. "The Spanish Spur belonged to our uncle, and he left it to us in his will. What we want to know is, who are you and what you are doing here?"
"Never you mind about me. How do I know you aren't from the Casa Mesa ranch, sent here to stir things up? Cyrus Slaughter is just mean enough to send someone 'round to cause more trouble for me."
Casey took a step toward the woman. If she was crazed, she wanted to be standing in front of Sam and Jenny. "You are on our land," she said cautiously. "You are the one who is the intruder."
"Now that ain't the way of it. I've been living here way before you were even born. Do you have some kind of proof to back up your claim?"
"I have a letter from my uncle's attorney in the wagon. His office is in Mariposa Springs, and his name is Mr. Bartholomew J.Murdock. My uncle was Bob Reynolds."
The woman's hard expression eased a bit, and she nodded. "Why didn't you say so straight off? You'd be the ones I've been expecting. Where's your pa?"
Casey stepped even closer and lowered her voice so jenny wouldn't overhear her answer. "My father... died on the way here. Jenny doesn't understand, so I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mention it in front of her."
The woman blinked her eyes and nodded. "Honey, you don't mean to tell me that the three of you think you can run this place alone?"
"We went through a lot to get here. I will do whatever I must to make this a home for my brother and sister."
The woman's eyes softened, and so did her voice. "Why, you are hardly more'n a young'un yourself." She walked around each one of them. "I should of knowed you right away from all your uncle told me 'bout you."
"This," Casey said, nodding at her brother, "is Sam. My name is Casey, and the child is our little sister, jenny. Our last name is Hamilton."
"Your uncle called you by different names. He called you Cassandra, you'd be Samuel, and the little one there would be Jennifer."
Jenny peeked her head around Sam's leg and said in a disgruntled voice, "I'm mad at my sister. I want to sleep with the chickens, and she won't let me."
The woman chuckled and then laughed so hard she had to wipe her tears on the sleeve of her shirt. "Lord have mercy on us all. I have three children on my hands."
"I didn't quite get your name," Sam said, stepping closer, and asserting his authority.
Casey knew by the set of his shoulders that he was tired of people pushing them around. First it had been the wagon master who tried to send them home, then the man at the river, and now this woman.
"Well, young man, my name is Kathryn Eldridge. Folks hereabout just call me Kate."
Casey had a million questions to ask the woman. "Mrs. Eldridge-"
"Not Mrs. I ain't never been married. Never found a man I could stand to be 'round for more than a week at a time. Just call me Kate."
"Kate, what happened here? My mother had wonderful memories of growing up on the Spanish Spur. This looks nothing like the place she described to us."
"Honey, this house has been sitting vacant for more'n two years. Thieves took most of the furniture, 'cept the few things I managed to lock in the storage shed. All your uncle's papers are there, and a few family things you might be interested in."
Casey glanced about her in distress. "I don't even know where to start cleaning."
"Now that ain't your biggest worry. Your worry is going to be Cyrus Slaughter, the meanest, orneriest, most cantankerous old man you'll ever meet up with. He owns half of Texas and won't be satisfied until he gets the rest. Now, this here ranch stands between his Casa Mesa ranch and the Brazos. He's had his eye on this spread for quite a spell. Your uncle always let him water his herd at the river, but that wasn't good enough for Cyrus-he won't stop until he drives you off or buries you."
"No one can be that mean," Sam said in disbelief.
"Well, you may think different when you get to know him. I have a notion he's been driving off some of your cattle, and I suspect, although I can't prove it, he's been sticking his own brand on some of 'em."
It was too much for Casey to absorb all at once.
"If he's that bad, he should be arrested."
"Hell, gal, ain't no lawman going to go up against him. He'll do whatever it takes to drive you away." She cradled her rifle in her arms. Your uncle wanted you to know about Cyrus, so I told you right off. And, honey, he's going to run right over you three youngsters like you weren't even there."
Sam slid his arm around Casey's waist to comfort her and to find comfort for himself. "This is our home now, and we'll do whatever we have to do to protect it."
Kate looked as if she would like to say more, but she turned away and called over her shoulder, "After you've tended the horses, come on up to the house, and IT feed you. I got a big garden behind my house, and my guess is you three ain't had any fresh vegetables in a spell. You look like you could use a good meal."
Sam and jenny had been asleep for over an hour, but Casey had too much on her mind to sleep. And with her shoulder hurting, it was hard to find a comfortable position.
She tried to find a bright side to t
heir situation, but there didn't seem to be one. If it had been Kate's intention to frighten her with talk about Cyrus Slaughter, she had certainly succeeded. Should she take the initiative-visit the rancher and introduce herself-or should she wait for him to make the first move? She wondered how much repair work would be necessary before they could move into the house.
Casey recalled her mother mentioning the fierce weather in this part of Texas. They had to make the house livable before winter set in. According to Kate, they had about two months before the weather turned bad.
And how were they going to live in the meantime? They hadn't much money. Maybe the best thing to do would be to sell the Spanish Spur to Mr. Slaughter, if he wanted it so badly. But that would leave them without a home, and she wasn't ready to admit defeat-not yet. And perhaps Mr. Slaughter wasn't as bad as Kate had said.
Casey pushed the covers aside and felt around in the dark until she found a shawl to throw over her nightgown. There was no need to get dressed, because there wouldn't be anyone about. She slid her feet into her slippers, then climbed down from the wagon as quietly as she could so she wouldn't disturb Sam and Jenny.
She noticed a light was still burning in the cabin. It seemed that Kate couldn't sleep either. Casey stared up at the stars and wished she knew what her father would expect them to do. There was no one she could turn to for help.
She made her way to the house and seated herself on the top step, unwilling to go inside the dark interior. She felt the cool breeze on her cheeks and pushed her hair away from her face. She had made so many choices since her father's death; suppose she had been wrong in insisting they come to Texas? If only they could somehow manage to hold on to this ranch, it would one day belong to Sam-and she wanted that for him.
"I see you didn't take my advice."
Casey jumped to her feet at the sound of the man's voice. "What... who..." Although she saw only his shadowy form, she knew who it was. She would never forget that voice. He was the man who had helped them with the wagon. "What are you doing here?"
Heart Of Texas (Historical Romance) Page 3
