Texas Hero

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  If I had wanted you dead, you would already be lying in your own blood. "Caroline bit her lip to keep from crying out. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how he affected her.

  In the silence that followed, she heard his laughter, high and shrill.

  It was the most purely evil sound she had ever heard.

  "Anytime you're ready, pretty lady, I'll call a halt to this game."

  Caroline hugged her arms around herself. Her nerves were at the breaking point. She knew what he wanted of her. It was far worse than fire or gunshots or even death.

  As she sat trembling in the darkness, she found herself thinking about Thad, who had not returned since the night he'd brought her the gun.

  If only she could confide in him. He was a gunfighter. He'd find a way to keep her safe. But, she reminded herself, it wasn't his fight. And it wasn't fair to bring anyone else into her trouble.

  Especially now that she knew the depth of a this man's determination.

  Though he didn't intend to kill her, he would have no hesitation about killing anyone who stood in the way of his schemes.

  ai She remained huddled in the corner of the room, cold, terrified, until morning light streaked the sky. Then she forced herself to her feet and stumbled to the window. Her stalker was gone. He was so sure of himself he hadn't even bothered to erase his tracks from the sand.

  Caroline carried two buckets of water from the river, one to be used by the children during school hours, the other for her own use. Since the weather had grown hot, she no longer had the chore of adding logs to the fireplace to heat the schoolroom.

  As always, the hours spent with the children seemed to fly by. During those hours when she was their teacher, Caroline's troubles were forgotten. And this day, quite by accident, she discovered a new power within herself. With gentle persuasion, she could even heal some of the wounds among the townspeople.

  It started innocently enough with a spelling bee, which was won by Runs With The Wind. While the other children congratulated him, the runner-up, ten-year-old Emma Way-

  eriy, complained,

  "I don't think it's right to give the trophy to an Indian."

  At once, five children rushed to Runs With The Wind's defense. While Lisbeth and Frank and Danny and Kate stood beside their brother and cousin. Jack took it upon himself to grab the offender by the back of her neck and demand an apology.

  "Just a moment," Caroline said sharply.

  "This is still my class, and I'll handle this. All of you," she said sternly, "sit down."

  As the children took their places, she searched her mind for an answer that would satisfy everyone. Softly she said, "Emma, would you lift my table, please."

  Emma looked startled, but she obediently stood and walked to the teacher's desk. For several minutes the big, rawboned girl leaned her weight into the table, then turned and said apologetically,

  "Sorry, Miss Adams. It's too heavy."

  "And you. Jack?" she asked.

  "Do you think you and Emma together could lift the table?"

  Though they managed to lift it, they couldn't move it.

  "Now," Caroline said gently,

  "Runs With The Wind, would you give them a hand?"

  Still glaring at the girl who had hurled an insult at him, he walked to the other side of the table. Grunting, the three managed to lift and carry the heavy table.

  "Where do you want it?" Emma asked.

  "Back where it was," Caroline said.

  Puzzled, the children set the table down, then stood, waiting for her explanation.

  "Alone, Emma, you could never have moved that desk. Even with Jack's help you couldn't do it. But when the two of you worked alongside Runs With The Wind, you could move it anywhere. Isn't that right?"

  The girl nodded.

  "You'll find that to be true of life, as well. Working with others, you can often accomplish twice as much as when you try to carry the burden alone."

  ' "But why should we have to work with Indians?" Emma asked.

  "My uncle was killed by his kind."

  "And my father was killed by white soldiers," Runs ] With The Wind stated firmly.

  "But my tia.-my aunt," he said by way of explanation, "is married to the finest man s I know. Clan Con way, my foster father, is a white man. I u love him as much as I revere the memory of my father, a Two Moons, great chief of the Comanche."

  When Emma opened her mouth to speak, Caroline said,

  "Return to your desks."

  ar As the children took their seats she added,

  "It is true that Runs With The Wind is a Comanche, the son of a chief who was killed by white soldiers.

  And you, Emma, had to see your aunt grieve over the death of your uncle at the hands of Indians. All of you are proud of your heritage, as you should be. But I do not concern myself with your backgrounds. I am far more concerned with what you make of your own lives. And in this schoolroom, your journey must begin with accepting that we all have the right to be different.

  And while we are different, we can still work together. "

  The children had gone very quiet.

  "The spelling bee was a fair test of your ability. Runs With The Wind won it fairly. If any of you would like to have his trophy, you will have to win the next contest. Until then, he will take the trophy home for safekeeping."

  Caroline's gaze roamed each student, pausing for long moments on Emma.

  "Is that understood?"

  They nodded.

  "Emma, do you have anything to say?" the teacher prodded.

  The girl twisted in her chair and extended her hand to the young Comanche.

  "Sorry," she muttered.

  Runs With The Wind accepted her handshake.

  Opening a book, Caroline said,

  "I think it's time to read the next chapter of our story. Lisbeth, would you like to begin?"

  The little girl stepped to the front of the room and took the book from her teacher's hands. Soon the students were smiling and nodding, lost in the wonder of the adventure story.

  When the children left for the day, Caroline cleaned the schoolroom and prepared for the next day's classes.

  That completed, she washed her meager supply of clothing and hung it to dry, then tended the small garden she had planted beside the river.

  After hours spent at her desk, the hard, physical labor challenged her.

  With a hoe she dug at the weeds that encroached on her tender plants.

  To a child of the city, born among the sprawling shacks, this verdant land was like a soothing balm. Seeing the tiny shoots break free of the soil was like the miracle of birth. A miracle that brought her rich, simple pleasure.

  Now, as she tended a row of plants in her garden, she looked up in alarm at the thunder of dozens of horses' hooves heading her way. With a quick, nervous gesture she reached a hand into the pocket of her gown. Each day she'd honed her skill with the little gun. Each night, alone in her cabin, she had loaded and unloaded the chamber in the dark until she was confident she could do it with ease. Still, aiming the pistol at a man and snuffing out his life seemed an impossible act for her.

  The horses topped a ridge and came racing toward her. For a moment her heartbeat matched the pounding of hooves. Then she caught sight of a thatch of white hair on the stocky figure in the lead.

  "Sheriff Horn." She felt a rush of weak relief.

  '"Evening, Miss Adams." He doffed his hat.

  "Seen a pair of riders heading north?"

  "No." For a moment her heart stopped. Had they somehow discovered her predator and the cruel tricks he'd been playing on her? Could the sheriff be hot on his trail?

  "Fox broke out of jail. Had an accomplice. Someone came up behind the deputy and knocked him cold. When he woke up he found himself locked in Fox's cell. Fellow at the mercantile saw Fox and a stranger riding like the devil himself was after them. Last anyone saw, they were headed this way."

  Seeing the look of fear that came
into her eyes, he soothed,

  "Don't you worry now, ma'am. Those two won't be bothering you.

  They're too smart to stay in these parts. They'll probably get halfway to California before they even slow down." The sheriff touched a hand to his hat.

  "We'll say goodnight now, ma'am. Got to stay on the trail while it's still warm."

  The men turned their horses and thundered up the hill.

  Caroline's fingers, wet and slippery, were still wrapped around the pistol in her pocket. Gardening had lost its appeal; she had a sudden need to return to the safety of her cabin. She was almost there when a lone horse crested the ridge and headed directly toward her.

  Dropping the hoe, she began to run. A deep voice called out to her, but with the wind whistling past her as she ran and the heaving of her labored breath, she couldn't make out the words. She knew only that the solitary rider was almost upon her.

  There were perhaps a hundred yards left to run. With her lungs crying out for air, she pushed herself to the limit and struggled to reach the cabin.

  The hem of her skirt tangled beneath her feet, sending her flying. With a cry of fear she tumbled, landing facedown in the dirt. As she fell, she saw the horse's hooves alongside her and was convinced that she would be trampled.

  Work-hardened hands grasped her shoulders, dragging her roughly to her feet.

  She was twisted around. And found herself looking into puzzled blue eyes.

  "Thad." His name came out in a choked cry. For a minute her fingers tightened on the front of his shirt. She wanted to hug him. Then she stiffened and tried to push away. She wanted to strangle him for causing her such fright.

  "Didn't you hear me call your name?" He studied her heaving breasts, her look of confusion. No matter how much she denied it, she'd been absolutely terrified.

  "I... no." She wiped her hands along her skirt and looked around for the fallen hoe. It must be back by the river. She felt completely disoriented.

  "Why are you here?"

  "Can't a neighbor stop by for a friendly visit?"

  She eyed him suspiciously.

  "What are you up to?"

  "Don't you remember? I promised to make a latch for the cellar door."

  He removed some tools from a saddlebag and walked to the side of the cabin.

  While he bent to his task he asked casually,

  "I take it you've heard that Fox escaped jail?"

  Her gaze was arrested by the taut muscles of his shoulders as he worked.

  The thought of those arms, so strong, so inviting, caused her throat to go dry.

  "The sheriff and his men passed by here a while ago. And I have to admit, the news did cause me some concern."

  "I just passed them, too, and heard the news. I guess it's a good thing I picked tonight to lend a hand. Maybe I'll just stay awhile and keep you company. I figure since Fox was the man who attacked you on your arrival in Hope, I'll stay and see he doesn't make a habit of it."

  He kept his tone level, but she sensed the steel beneath the softly spoken words.

  Relief flooded through her, though she tried not to show it.

  "Have you had supper yet?"

  He shook his head.

  "I was hoping you'd invite me to stay."

  She laughed.

  "Why don't you come inside when you're finished and I'll fix supper for both of us." 5 "Thanks, Teacher." He gave her a heart-stopping grin.

  I

  "I'd like that." | A short time later Thad turned his horse into the encioj

  sure and walked into the cabin. The first thing he noticed was Caroline kneeling beside a small pen, made out of four logs, next to the fireplace.

  Inside the pen were six baby chicks, who kept up a constant chorus of high-pitched peeping.

  "Taken up chicken raising. Teacher?"

  Caroline looked up, still petting one of the little yellow balls of fluff.

  "Runs With The Wind brought them this morning. He said Clan was given them in payment for some surgery he did and Morning Light thought I might like them." She set the chick down with the others.

  "Aren't they sweet?"

  "You won't be saying that in a few days," he said dryly. "When your cabin smells like a barnyard."

  "Oh, they'll be outside by then. I just thought they needed a couple of nights beside the fire before I turn them out into the yard."

  "You'll probably make pets of the lot of them," he commented.

  "And when it comes time to chop off their heads, you'll say you'd rather go hungry."

  "I will not," she protested. But he could see the way she glanced fearfully at the chicks, as though she'd already become their protector.

  "Wouldn't they be more valuable laying eggs instead of being stew in a pot?"

  "For a while. Until they grow too old to lay." A smile lurked in his eyes.

  "Of course, by then you'll have given them all names and you won't want old Suzie to become Sunday supper."

  "I was wondering..." She cleared her throat.

  "Do you think the coyotes will venture into my yard?"

  "Coyotes consider baby chicks a delicacy."

  He saw the stricken look on her face and nearly choked with laughter.

  "I

  suppose tomorrow I could build a small shed for them." Her eyes widened with pleasure.

  "Would you? Oh, Thad, that would be wonderful."

  He leaned back in the hard chair and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle. As she carried food to the table, he wondered what the hell was happening to him. He had enough work to do on his own ranch without wasting an entire day building a chicken coop. Still, he- thought, stealing a glance at her happy face, the reward was worth the effort.

  He inhaled deeply. A hunk of venison roasted over the fire. The fragrance of biscuits perfumed the tiny room, along with the aroma of strong coffee bubbling over the fire. To make the meal more festive, Caroline brought out the jar of peach preserves that Cora Meadows had presented her at their first meeting.

  There was something about this little cabin that reminded him of his childhood.

  Rolling up his sleeves, Thad washed his hands and face in the basin she indicated and accepted a small towel embroidered with pink morning glories.

  ' "Your handiwork?" he asked.

  She nodded, feeling oddly pleased that he took notice of something so simple.

  "I made the stitch to match the design on my mother's china."

  "You have all kind of talents, don't you, Teacher?"

  At her flush of pleasure he handed the cloth back to her and took a seat at the table. When his plate was filled he tasted the venison and looked up.

  ' "Did young Jack give this to you?"

  She nodded.

  "When he brought it to school, I asked him to tell all the children about his hunt. You should have seen his face, Thad. He was so proud.

  And later, when I asked him to write about it, he filled his slate with a story about his grand adventure." Her eyes grew dreamy.

  "I think I finally managed to reach him. For the first time Jack felt as if he had contributed something worthwhile to the class. They all loved his story.

  Now that I've found the key, I don't think I'll have any problem with him.

  Suddenly he seems eager to learn all that I can teach him." She chuckled, thinking about the blond, blue-eyed boy who reminded her so much of his uncle.

  "He's even eager to master sums, now that I've explained that such skills will help decide how many cattle should be in a single grazing area or how many logs it will take to fill a wagon. Once he realized that knowledge will help with ranch chores, he stopped fighting me."

  Thad studied the way her eyes glowed.

  "It means a lot to you to teach the children, doesn't it?"

  She said softly,

  "I know what it is to be hungry to learn, to want with all your heart to be able to form the letters and read the words."

  ' "Did your mother teach you?" Thad ask
ed.

  Lying didn't come easily to her. But if she couldn't lie, at least she could evade.

  "I had to go away to learn."

  "That's when you went to that school..." He thought a moment.

  "Miss Tully's School for Ladies."

  Too many questions. She wanted to change the subject, but she felt compelled to reply, so she said simply,

  "I proved to be an apt student."

  Avoiding his eyes, she handed him the biscuits.

  "Tell me what you think of these. I asked your sister, Jessie, to tell me how she'd made hers last Sunday."

  She was doing it again. Every time he tried to get her to talk about herself, she managed to change the subject. He shrugged and decided to let her have her way. For now.

  As he tried a biscuit with peach preserves, a slow smile touched his lips.

  "Now this is heaven. I haven't tasted biscuits like this since I was a kid in our sod shack."

  Thad leaned back, sipping hot coffee and watching the young woman as she crossed the room to toss another log on the fire. He hadn't seen her in days. He'd told himself it was because of the many chores around his ranch.

  But the truth was, he had been deliberately avoiding her. He'd needed to prove to himself that he could walk away from her.

  If he wasn't careful he'd wind up wanting to protect her all the time.

  And that could lead to all kinds of complications.

  "The chicks are settling down to sleep." She filled his cup, keeping her voice low.

  "You don't have to whisper. Teacher. They could sleep through a Texas norther."

  She crossed the room and studied the tiny chicks, huddled together as much for comfort as for warmth.

  "Will they sleep through the night?"

  "Yep." He drained his cup and walked to her side.

  "But they'll be awake at dawn. And I promise you, you will be, too."

  Bending, she picked up one chick that had been nudged away from the flock.

  Running a finger along his downy back, she pressed him to her cheek before setting him down in the midst of the others.

  "I think you're right." Her gaze was tender.

  "They're probably all going to become pets."

  She stood a moment, deep in thought. Then, crossing to him, she reached into her pocket and handed him the pistol, along with the pouch of bullets.