Winning the Lady (Book 4 of the Red River Valley Brides)

by Hestand, Rita

  He pulled her against him, led her back to the settee, and sat her down. His hand touched her cheek, and his finger glided with a tear. "Look, everyone here thinks we are married, so you are protected. You can stay and continue on with me. This changes nothing. We can tell everyone we are having a child. Everyone knows you. They'll believe it. It will protect you!"

  "It's too much!" she insisted. "I can't expect you to—"

  "Trish, you aren't leaving. We can work this out. You are with child. You need to be taken care of. I plan to do it. It won't be a problem."

  "Even so, everyone knows I was kidnapped. They might assume it isn't yours. That would create problems for you later."

  He pursed his lips, considering. "We were planning to leave anyway. We can go somewhere else. That's what we can do. And no one will know what happened."

  "You'd do that for me… and the baby?"

  "Why not? It will protect your reputation, and everyone will be patting me on the back. Now quit fussing. As far as anyone knows here, there is nothing to worry about. We'll go to San Antonio. That's far enough away. You'll claim to be my wife, and I will tell everyone we are expecting a child." He smiled at her. "The stagecoach might be a rough ride. Do you think you can hold up to that?"

  "Gil, you don't have to do this."

  "Trish, we are partners in this. Chester needn't know of this. He doesn't deserve a child. If he mistreated you, think of what he might do to the child. So I'm involved and I want to help you."

  "Doesn't it bother you that I’m having someone else's child?" She glanced at him now, watching the expression on his face. "His child?"

  "I like kids." He smiled. "I always have. And you forget, it's your child, Trish. Chester's not in your life any more. Nothing is his anymore."

  Trish looked wide-eyed at him, her mouth falling open in complete surprise. "I can't believe you'd do this for me."

  "We're partners in this, Trish, until the end. A deal is a deal."

  She wrung her hands. "I'm sure I've shocked you. I’m sure you need some time to consider this."

  "I've had plenty of time. There's no problem, Trish. Nothing has changed except you are having a baby." He smiled and pulled her into his arms.

  She loved being this close to him, smelling the sweet clean smell of him, feeling his cheek touch her hair, his strong arms around her. She felt so protected. She always felt protected in Gil's arms.

  But three years from now, when she had a child to support and no Gil, what would happen to her then?

  She couldn't worry over that at the moment. The doctor was right. She had to embrace this time of protection and be grateful.

  "Thank you for what you're doing." She smiled meekly at him.

  "It's all going to be all right, Trish, you'll see," he assured her.

  Still there was a sadness in the back of her heart that she knew one day would come. For now, it would stay tucked away in her heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The coach ride from Ft. Worth to San Antonio was even rougher than the previous one. A nun, a prisoner, and a marshal accompanied them on the trip. It was hot and muggy, and the air barely moved.

  For several miles, no one said much.

  The nun broke the silence inside the coach. "That's a lovely dress." She smiled at Trish.

  Trish looked at the sister. She was middle aged, well-seasoned, and had probably been a nun all her life, the way she acted.

  "Thank you." Trish barely glanced at herself, but she looked at the nun and smiled. "Are you going all the way to San Antonio?"

  "Yes, Father Garcia is expecting me. He just opened another church and he needs help in running two in the city. I'm Sister Ann Hardy. You can call me Sister Ann."

  "I guess there are lots a Catholics down there," the prisoner blurted.

  "Yes, there are." The nun glanced at the man who sat beside her. "Are you going to San Antonio?"

  The young man laughed heartily. "Yeah, they are gonna hang me. You are mucho welcome to come and see, Sister. Have you ever witnessed a hanging?"

  "No, I can't say that I have, but I will attend if it pleases you. I will pray for your soul."

  "Sure, why not? I am Juan Martinez, and he is Marshal Cooper, Ed Cooper. But I'm afraid it's too late to pray for me, Sister, and expect satisfaction."

  ~*~

  Gil studied to boy, he couldn't have been over eighteen or nineteen, skinny, rather dirty. But Gil saw a lot of life in his eyes. He had black, expressive eyes that a person would naturally notice.

  "It is never too late, my son." Sister Ann smiled and looked to be praying with her rosary at the same time.

  Everyone glanced at the marshal.

  Marshal Cooper grimaced. He was close to middle age, with a big mustache and a hat just as big.

  The prisoner was a young Mexican. Had he been clean he might be a good looking kid, Gil reflected.

  The nun reached to touch the young man's hand. "I will pray for you, my son."

  "Ain't no use prayin' for me. It's too late, but I thank you."

  "No one is beyond hope," the nun corrected.

  The marshal glanced at the nun. "Don't waste your time on him. He's guilty as sin."

  "Sin is forgivable by the Lord, sir. And we all sin in some way, so we are all equal in the sight of the Lord."

  "He murdered an entire family," the marshal insisted. "He murdered and robbed them, ma'am. Redemption won't keep him from hanging."

  "Perhaps, but his soul is still worth saving, wouldn't you say?" she asked sweetly.

  "No, lady. He's going to hell, for what he done."

  ~*~

  Trish studied the hardnosed marshal. He had a clean suit of clothes on. He even had a shine to his boots. He was obviously proud of his position. His badge seemed to flash into everyone's eyes, as though he polished it nightly.

  "Marshal, I hate to disagree, but this woman probably knows more about where the young man is going than we do. And praying for him can't hurt."

  The nun smiled at Trish.

  "Even I think it is too late for prayer, but I honor this woman for wanting to do so." The young man glanced at the nun who still held his hand in hers. His hand was dirty, but the nun didn't seem to mind. She held it a long time.

  Trish tried to change positions, but there wasn't room to get comfortable. Gil opened his arms for her to rest against him.

  When everyone looked at Trish strangely, he explained, "My wife is pregnant. This trip looks to be hard for her."

  Now everyone stared at her.

  She cuddled against Gil.

  Sweat poured off everyone it was so hot. Trish slept the best she could.

  ~*~

  "Has he already had a trial?" Gil asked curiously.

  "Yep, and it didn't take them long to find him guilty," the marshal added. "The jury wasn't gone more than an hour." The marshal's dark cold eyes stared outside mostly. He seemed uninterested in talking with anyone.

  "Want to tell us what happened?" Gil asked the prisoner, who still hadn't turned loose the nun's hand.

  The nun stared at him with shining blue-gray eyes and smiled. "Please. Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

  "I was mucho hungry. I had traveled many days. My horse gave out under me. I had walked for many miles before I came onto this family of farmers."

  The marshal didn't even glance at them.

  "At first, they seemed to want to help me. They gave me food, but they had no horse, only a mule the man would not sell to me. I had money in my pockets. Stolen money, but still. When the farmer asked where I came from, I told him the truth, that I had ridden with Senor Rodriguez the outlaw. We separated after the hold-up to throw the law off our trail. This upset the man very much, and he wanted me to leave. I told him I could not leave without a horse or mule. He refused to sell him. He refused to loan him to me. I told him I could not walk, that my boots were too worn and had too many holes in them. I showed him my boots. The man… he no longer cared. He said that was my problem.
He said I must leave. He was concerned for his family."

  "And did you leave?" the nun asked.

  "No, not at first. I asked him if he had some boots I could wear. He said no. He said he wasn't giving me anything else."

  Gil nodded and glanced again at the marshal, who still wasn't paying any attention.

  "Then what happened?" Gil prodded.

  "He got a gun, and he threatened to kill me. I told him I meant him no harm, but that I needed his mule or a pair of boots to leave. He would not give them and shot at me. I lunged at him, and we struggled with the gun. It went off, and I shot him. He was dead before he hit the ground. His wife, she tackled me to the ground, and she got the gun and tried to shoot me, but in the struggle, I was able to turn it on her and it went off. I only meant to scare her. I did not mean to kill her. I never killed a woman before."

  "And the children?" The nun was concerned now, and her fingers slipped faster on the rosary.

  "They were staring at me, like I was a killer. I told them I had to shoot their parents. That it was an accident. I was scared. I knew they would identify me to the law. When the oldest boy jumped me and his brother tried to help, we struggled on the ground. The gun went off, and the little girl was killed. She was standing just a little ways from us and just watching it all. It was not my doing. I only wanted to get the gun from them. They turned to grieve for their parents and the little girl, so I had time to get away. I knew the law would say it was my fault. I was a robber and now a murderer. If they caught me, I would hang."

  "So the marshal caught you?" The nun asked, her hands finally stilled.

  "Si. It was a week later. I was walking and hot and tired. I stopped to rest and to try to fix my shoes. I stuffed some of my torn shirt into the shoes to mend the holes. As I was busy, the marshal caught up to me. I was too tired to go on, too tired to fight. He took me in. There was a trial, and now I am to hang. I should hang. I killed those people. I didn't mean to, but I did."

  "Why in San Antonio?" Gil asked, not commenting on his story. "Why not where the trial was held?"

  "Because that is where I am wanted. And the law there insisted I must hang there. I had robbed a bank down there a year before, and they had caught and tried me. They found me guilty. I was supposed to hang. But my friend Rodriguez helped me escape their jail. There was a shoot-out, and a deputy was killed. They held me responsible, even though it was Rodriguez that killed him. At the time I had no gun."

  "That's quite a story. Why did you ride with this Rodriguez fella in the first place?" Gil probed. "Didn't you know what kind of man he was?"

  The young man looked at him from head to toe and shook his head. "You probably have never been hungry. Never had your belly bite at you because there was no food. But I was orphaned and had no job. I was hungry all the time. Our farm was nothing more than a dried-up piece of land. There was no food in the garden except onions. I tried to kill rabbits with stones. Only once did I kill one. I ate good for a couple of days. Then there was nothing again. Then Rodriguez came to my father's farm. He saw how dirt poor I was. He saw the clothes that were rotting from my body, the empty cupboards. He felt sorry for me. He promised if I rode with him that I would eat regular and I did."

  The nun glanced up at his face. "Didn't you know that robbing and murder were wrong, son?"

  "Si, I knew, but a man has to eat, Senora, and I didn't know how to get food. Everyone around us was poor and starving too."

  "Are you sorry for what you have done?" The nun squeezed his hand.

  "Si…" The young man hung his head.

  "Then I will pray God forgives you for your sins," the nun repeated.

  "Thank you."

  Gil shook his head. It was hard to imagine being that hungry, but Gil knew there were many in that situation.

  "See, he admits his guilt." The marshal glanced at Gil. "Don't matter if he meant to kill those people or not. They are dead, and he walked away. Three of them dead, for what… boots… a mule?"

  "Did you take the mule?" the sister asked.

  "Si, I did."

  "What happened to it?" Gil asked.

  "I could not feed it. I gave it water when we found it, but I had no food for it. The land was dried up, and the food was dead. The mule… he began to bellar. It was a loud sound, a miserable sound. I took the gun I killed the people with and I killed the mule, to put him out of his misery. Then again I walked."

  "At least you knew to do that," Gil said flatly.

  The marshal nodded. "Yeah, but it just ain't enough. He's guilty. He admitted it. He's going to hang for it."

  "There's no doubt about that, but I can pray for his soul." The nun looked at the boy and squeezed his hand again.

  "Have you ever been hungry, marshal?" the boy asked.

  "Yeah, but there's a cure for that. Something I guess your folks didn't teach you. It's called work."

  "When you live in a community that is poor, you do not work for money, because no one has any. You work for food. And when the food is gone, you starve."

  "Then you should have worked for it, instead of begging," the marshal corrected.

  "Again you have never been hungry, or you might understand. When one is hungry, work is impossible, for there is no strength in your body," the boy said softly.

  The marshal frowned. "Don't waste your sad stories on me, boy."

  "No, sir."

  Gil glanced from one man to the other. He felt for the poor, ignorant kid, and he wondered why the marshal had such a cynical view of things. One didn't quit feeling for mankind without a reason.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Just passed Waco, they stopped at a relay station nestled in a shady cover of big Elms off the road.

  Everyone stepped out of the coach. "The driver never approaches a station without first hailing the manager," he told them. The cabin looked big and spacious, there was a generous yard, and the food smelled wonderful even from outside.

  Not long after he called out, a man came out of the barn and waved. "It's all right now. Go on in, folks. There will be plenty of eats."

  After escorting Trish inside, Gil joined the driver and shotgun rider on the porch for news of the area. The relay manager welcomed them and gave them news of other coaches and problems they might have along the way. He had about three coaches a week come through, so he stayed busy. He seemed to take pride in his place, and Gil liked the man.

  Directly, they all walked inside.

  The friendly cook invited them all to gather round. The station manager's wife dished everyone generous helpings, and it looked as though they were all hungry.

  The boy looked at the woman. "Thank you, Senora."

  His eyes were wide, and he ate as though it were his last meal. Trish watched him with fascination.

  She knew instinctively that this boy had gone hungry most of his life and it saddened her. The way he gobbled his food told everyone that he was not used to having so much nor eating with others. Everyone noticed his rather primitive manners. He stopped in midair when he saw everyone staring at him.

  The manager's wife was pleased when they all wanted second helpings. She was a sweet-faced, round little woman who adored her husband.

  Eagerly she loaded their plates with more and joined them at the table. She talked about other stages and other people traveling to San Antonio. She admired Trish's dress and was pleasantly surprised about the nun with them. "We don't get many nuns out this way, least ways not on the stage."

  The nun smiled demurely. "I probably wouldn't have come by stage myself, but I wanted to get there as quickly as possible."

  Later, Gil took Trish for a long walk as the stage driver watered the horses and checked his gear.

  "You got about ten minutes, everyone, to stretch your legs. Take advantage. It will be a long ride before we stop again."

  Trish and Gil walked away from the others.

  "It feels good to walk again. I didn't realize I was as cramped as I feel." She sighed, holding on to Gi
l's arm. "I'm not used to such a ride. I'm a little stiff."

  "I don't think anyone can get used to stagecoach rides. They are always hot, dusty, and cramped. And the bumps are sure miserable."

  She squeezed his arm.

  "While you slept, I found out about our companion travelers," Gil said quietly.

  "Oh, what about them?" Trish stopped to look at him.

  He stared out at the prairie. "The young kid is going to hang for murder and robbery. He's guilty, but sorry for what he did. The marshal is an unusually bitter man, but I don't know if it's just because of the kid or his occupation. Sometimes when men upholds the law so long, they tend to get hard. The nun is a pure reward in our travels, though. She's refreshing."

  Trish smiled. "I like her. She has such a sweet face. Have you ever noticed how nice a person they are?"

  "Nuns, no, I guess not, but then I haven't been around many of them either." Gil stared at Trish and smiled. "I guess you are right. She sure seems to give the kid some relief."

  "I hope she can bring some peace to the boy. It's sad when someone so young gets in trouble, and there's nothing you can do."

  "He's a victim of circumstances mostly. He got caught up in greed and necessities, but he seems truly sorry for what he's done. Our laws are so black and white. There are no in-betweens. We'll have to change people's thinking before we can change the laws, though."

  "I'm glad he's remorseful. Did he admit robbing and killing?" Trish asked lowly.

  "Yeah, that's the funny part. He did. But the way he puts it, it was an accident, the killings. And that part is kind of sad. Although he did participate in a robbery in San Antonio, that's why they are hanging him there."

  Trish held herself. "Dear God, I hadn't realized he was on his way to the gallows. I don't know why. I thought maybe his trial, but not his hanging."

  "Are you feeling all right?" Gil asked.

  She did feel tired, but she said, "I'm fine. Riding in a coach is not as pleasant as one would think, especially in this hot humid weather. I'll be fine once we get there."