Texas Hero

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  "Maybe he is." That raised several more eyebrows. "And maybe, after searching the world over, he has found his long-lost daughter here in Hope."

  Several of the younger women nearly swooned at the thought that a man would bid one hundred dollars for the schoolteacher's basket.

  ' "But why would she run away from him if she was his wife or daughter?"

  "Did you see his face?" Sara Waverly shuddered.

  "Did you see his eyes?" Bel va Spears interjected.

  "I'd run away from a man with eyes that cruel."

  "She has no place to run except back to the school."

  "Look."

  At Sara's single word they turned to watch as the stranger pulled himself into the saddle. The crowd had gone deathly silent. The only sound was the clatter of his horse's hooves as he headed out of town, in the direction of the schoolhouse.

  "I'll bet he knows where she lives and he's going to get her."

  "How romantic."

  Through narrowed eyes Thad watched as Sheriff Horn shook his head at a question. His words to a group of concerned townspeople could be clearly overheard.

  "I think we should get on with our festivities. Whatever there is between the stranger and Miss Adams is none of our concern. He's obviously a man of wealth. Maybe he'll even share a bit more of it with the people of Hope."

  While the crowd broke up into small groups to continue their speculation, Thad caught up the reins of his horse and walked slowly between the wagons.

  At the edge of town he stepped into the woods, still leading his mount.

  To Thad's trained eye, Caroline's trail was an easy map to read. Like any novice, she had raced through the thicket, trampling leaves, flattening small brush, even leaving bits of torn fabric fluttering on thorny branches.

  It tore at his heart to think of her alone, frightened, lost. He was relieved to see that her trail plunged deeper into the woods. The sanctuary of her cabin or the cool water flowing just beyond the thicket must have been tempting. But she had wisely refrained from taking the easy course, where the stranger would no doubt be waiting.

  What did the stranger want with Caroline? He paused, studying the small footprints in the earth. He had seen the way all the color had drained from her face when she'd caught sight of the man. And he had seen the stark terror in her eyes in that moment before she fled.

  He clamped his jaw and continued on. This time when he found her, he would have his answers.

  Caroline lay shivering beside a rotting log, struggling to sort out the many unfamiliar sounds of the night. Her hair had pulled loose from its neat knot and spilled around her face and shoulders in wild tangles. She had lost one boot when she had heard something in the brush behind her and scrambled up a tree. But though she had waited there for what seemed hours, she had spotted no one.

  Her skirt and petticoat hung in tatters. Her arms and legs bled from dozens of cuts made by the barbed brambles.

  The sun had long ago gone down, but she was reluctant to leave her hiding place. For the first time in her life, she was frozen with indecision.

  She knew that once she stepped into an open field or meadow, she would be naked and vulnerable.

  He was somewhere out there, stalking her.

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a moment, whispering a prayer. "Oh, Mama, why? Why, after all the struggles and all the years and all the tears, has it come down to this?"

  She felt the tears--of discouragement, of despair--start to flow. And she remembered Sara Waverly's words.

  "I was raised to believe that everyone has to accept whatever lot is theirs in life."

  "No," Caroline whispered fiercely. The word, spoken aloud, startled her and seemed to give her strength.

  "No," she said again, louder.

  "I don't have to accept it." She spat the words from between clenched teeth.

  Gathering her courage, she got to her knees and peered into the darkness.

  It was time. She could hide no longer. Not from him. Not from her past.

  On trembling legs she stood and began to run.

  She was halfway across the meadow when she heard the sound of hoofbeats.

  Praying it was her thundering heart, she cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Her heart plummeted when she caught sight of the horseman racing toward her.

  She continued running even though she knew the horse was gaining on her with every step. Fear clogged her throat, making it nearly impossible to catch her breath.

  At last, when the horse was directly beside her, she veered off, but the rider seemed to anticipate her every move.

  The horse never broke stride as strong arms scooped her up. She was already raging against her attacker, arms flailing, feet kicking, when she heard a familiar deep voice with an easy Texas drawl say,

  "Teacher, you sure do like to keep things stirred up, don't you?"

  "Thad."

  For a moment she could only hold on as she struggled to breathe.

  "That's more like it." His arms came around her and he drew her firmly against him.

  "Where did you...? How did you find me?" Her breathing was still too ragged to allow her to speak more than a few broken phrases.

  In an effort to ease her fears, his lips curved into a smile. He glanced at the night sky, sprinkled with stars.

  "It seemed like the perfect time to hold a pretty woman in my arms and carry her off to my ranch."

  "I can't go to your ranch, Thad."

  ' "Why not? Can you think of a safer place?"

  "No place is safe now. He'll find me no matter where I go."

  "You let me worry about that."

  "No." She pushed far enough away to see his face, "You don't know what sort of man he is. I won't have you dying to protect me."

  "It looks like you have no choice, Teacher."

  "This isn't your fight, Thad."

  His tone was laced with steel.

  "You're wrong." He nudged his horse into a gallop.

  "I just made it my fight."

  The ranch house was dark and cold. Thad left Caroline standing just inside the door as he made his way unerringly to the fireplace. When he struck a match, she blinked against the sudden light. Within moments the kindling blazed, and soon a cheery fire dispelled the darkness and the cold. But still she stood, her arms hugging herself, shivering.

  Thad snatched a blanket from his bed and wrapped it around her, then led her toward a chair pulled in front of the fire.

  "Sit here," he ordered.

  She was still staring at the flames with haunted eyes when he returned with a bottle of whiskey. He could see the effects of shock setting in.

  Her eyes were a little too bright, the pupils wide. The flesh of her cheeks was as pale as moon-washed sand.

  He filled a tumbler.

  "Drink," he commanded.

  She lifted the glass to her lips and coughed as the fiery liquid burned her throat.

  "Finish it." He tilted the glass and held it to her lips until it was empty.

  He poured a second glass, but she shook her head in refusal. He stood staring down at her, then lifted the glass and drained it in one long swallow. Setting it on the mantel above the fireplace, he stared down at the small figure hunched into the blanket. His heart contracted at the sight of her. She looked like a broken, wounded bird. Her clothes were torn and muddy. Blood seeped from dozens of cuts and scratches.

  Her eyes were glazed with pain and fear.

  He drew her into his arms and felt her body shake as she gave in to the need to weep. By the time the tears had run their course, the front of his shirt was damp.

  With his thumbs he wiped her tears and studied the color that touched her cheeks. The crying had helped a little. But she was still on the verge of exhaustion.

  Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to his bedroom and deposited her on the big feather mattress.

  "Now," he said softly, "you're going to sleep."

  She clutched at him fiercely and he wa
s surprised at her strength despite her ordeal.

  "Don't leave me, Thad."

  He smoothed the blanket over her, then sat down on the edge of the bed.

  "Don't worry. Teacher. I'm not going anywhere."

  Thad leaned a hip against the sill and drew deeply on a cigarette.

  Expelling smoke, he stared into the darkness.

  On a small bedside table was a basin of water and a towel stained with Caroline's blood. Her torn, muddy clothes lay in a heap on the floor.

  At first she had tried to fight him when he'd begun to strip and wash her.

  But at last she'd given in and allowed him to minister to her. Now she lay as still and quiet as death.

  She cried out in her sleep and Thad tossed the cigarette into the fire, then hurried to her side.

  The mattress sagged as he sat beside her and watched the fierce battle that raged in her mind. If only he could comfort her. But all he could do was wait and watch as she struggled alone with her demons.

  In her dream, Caroline traveled back to her troubled childhood.

  "Look at you, Caroline." Amanda Adams drew her daughter toward the looking glass and stood behind her. "Whatever am I going to do? You're growing into a beautiful child."

  "Beautiful?" Ten-year-old Caroline gave a childish laugh.

  "Mama, you're the beautiful one." She stared admiringly at her mother's red satin gown, her golden hair piled on top of her head in fancy curls.

  Caroline's own dress was faded and dirty and her dark hair hung in limp strands. Her face was smudged, and her bare feet were filthy.

  "But he's bound to notice you before long."

  Caroline stiffened. Though they never talked about the man who provided the shack they lived in, the fancy dresses for her mother, the carriage that came to take Amanda Adams to his saloon each night, Caroline knew who he was.

  "What do you mean. Mama?"

  Her mother's tone grew clipped and angry.

  "You mustn't let him see you, Caroline. Not ever."

  She gripped her daughter's shoulders and stared at their reflections in the mirror. The mother, small and fair and aristocratic; the daughter, wild and unkempt, with dark hair that had never been cut and skin as pale as fine porcelain.

  "You must never let Silas Tate see you. Do you hear me? He'll rob you of your childhood. And your beauty. Promise me, Caroline."

  Though she wasn't quite certain of the meaning of the words, the vehemence of her mother's tone conveyed enough fear to have Caroline nod solemnly.

  "I promise, Mama."

  Was it only scant months later that she had stepped from her mother's shack one morning to find herself face-to-face with the man they most feared?

  "Well, well. What do we have here?" The man's fingers bruised young Caroline's flesh as she struggled to break free. She nearly gagged on the smell of sweet pipe tobacco that clung to his hair and clothes and breath.

  Digging a hand into her hair, he pulled her head back and studied her with a careful eye. Despite the layers of dirt and grime, her youthful beauty was obvious. There were men at his saloon who would pay as much as ten dollars to have such a rare beauty.

  Dragging her inside the shack, he stood over the sleeping form in the bed and shouted,

  "So, Amanda, where have you been hiding this little treasure?"

  Caroline saw the way her mother jerked upright in the bed. Then she turned her head in shame as the man dragged her mother from the modest protection of the covers. "You've been holding out on me, Amanda. And you know how I feel about that."

  "She's only a baby, Silas."

  "She can earn her keep, just like the rest."

  "No." Amanda caught her, daughter's hand as if to shield her. But Silas shoved her aside and sent her sprawling across the bed.

  His words cut like a whip.

  "Nobody else in this town would help a woman who had a baby without benefit of marriage. But I did, didn't I? I gave you a roof over your head and food in your belly. And I've asked little enough in return."

  Caroline watched as her mother stood up to face him without even bothering to drape a shawl over her night shift. Amanda's body was still young and lush, but her eyes were smudged with pale blue circles and her face in the early morning light showed the effects of too many men, too many sleepless nights.

  "You've stolen my dignity, my pride. And I didn't care, as long as I could provide a home for my daughter. But I won't let you have her, too, Silas."

  In the blink of an eye, he twisted Amanda's arms behind her and pulled a knife, holding it to her throat.

  Caroline leaped to her mother's defense.

  "No, Caroline," her mother managed to call.

  As the woman cried out, a thin line of blood trickled down the blade of the knife to the handle, where it fell, drop by drop, onto the white shift.

  Seeing the terror and pleading in her mother's eyes, Caroline backed away and stood, wide-eyed and silent, cowed into submission.

  The man released his hold on her mother.

  "That's better. That's just a sample of what you'll both get unless you do as you're told. Now, my fine and fancy lady, you'll do as I say." He bent his lips to Amanda's ear and snarled,

  "I'll send a dressmaker later today to measure for clothes and shoes for my newest little dove."

  His gaze raked the little girl, causing her to hang her head in shame.

  "See that she has a proper bath." He shoved Amanda aside and strode from the shack.

  For long minutes Amanda listened until the sound of his carriage wheels faded. Then she turned to her daughter.

  "You can no longer stay here, Caroline. I always knew this day would come.

  But I'd hoped we would have a few more years together." " What do you mean? " Caroline watched her mother tear around the shack in a frenzy of activity.

  "What are you doing, Mama?"

  "Bundling up what little we have of value. You'll need it to survive."

  From a chipped cabinet she removed the china cups and plates and wrapped them in linen towels. From a satin gown hanging against the wall she removed a pearl brooch.

  "These were my mother's. They're all I have. Sell them if you must.

  There's a man here in Kansas City. Before my parents died and. all this happened, he and his wife were once kind to me. He was my teacher in Boston, at Miss Tully's School for Ladies. His name is Jonathan Coming." " I won't go," Caroline shouted.

  "You can't force me."

  Amanda caught her daughter by the shoulders and clutched them painfully.

  "If you stay here, your life will be a living hell. You'll do as I say.

  You'll leave. And you must never come back or try in any way to contact me.

  As of this day you are no longer my daughter. Do you hear? " " Come with me. Mama," Caroline pleaded.

  "If this man, Jonathan Coming, was kind to you once, he'll take you in again."

  "I can't. Not now. Not after what I've become. Don't you see? No respectable people would offer me haven now. But he'll help you." She spoke more to herself than to Caroline as she added,

  "Please God, he must."

  "I won't go without you. Mama."

  Her mother's tone was edged with an anger Caroline had never heard before.

  "You can no longer stay, Caroline." Her tone softened slightly.

  "But know this. I'll be content as long as I know that you have made a better life for yourself. Go now," she said, pushing Caroline toward the door.

  It was only much later, when Caroline had put miles between herself and the shack and she was prowling the bustling streets of Kansas City, alone and frightened, that she realized she could never return to the shack she'd called home. She would never see her beloved mother's face again.

  And, worst of all, she had never told her mother that she loved her.

  Caroline awoke to the sound of weeping and realized it was her own sobbing she heard. Her lids flicked open and she found Thad seated beside her, his face grave in
the firelight.

  "Did I... speak?"

  He nodded. He'd overheard enough of her disjointed ramblings to gather a vague picture of her past. He was fairly sure he knew what her mother had done to survive and why Caroline was so determined to keep herself hidden away.

  She had cried out from the depths of her soul. He could only guess at the extent of her torment. But it tore him apart to know that the woman he loved had suffered so.

  The woman he loved. The thought filled him with wonder. How was such a thing possible?

  He brought his thumbs to her cheeks and wiped away her tears. His touch was so soft, so gentle. It was as if he tried, with one touch, to wipe away all traces of the pain that had burdened her for so long.

  "Oh, Thad, hold me. Hold me."

  "I'll do more than that," he muttered thickly against her lips.

  "If you'll let me, Caroline, I'll love you."

  Chapter Eighteen

  "I've loved you for such a long time, Caroline. But I didn't want to admit it. Not even to myself." At his words she went very still. Love. How was it possible that now, at the darkest moment of her life, she would find love?

  She lifted herself on her elbows and tried to push away from him.

  "You don't know what you're saying. You don't know me, Thad. My whole life here has been a lie."

  He touched a finger to her lips to silence her.

  "All I need to know is this." He framed her face with his hands and stared deeply into her eyes.

  "You're the finest woman I've ever met. You're kind to all you meet, and fair with everyone." His voice warmed for a moment.

  "Not that anything else matters except, ever since I've met you, I'm as churned up as if I'd just stepped on a hornet's nest. The way I see it," he murmured, tracing the outline of her lips with his thumbs, "there's just one cure for it."

  For the space of a heartbeat she forgot to breathe as he slowly lowered his face to hers. His fingers skimmed her face, then settled on her shoulders.

  For that one instant, she felt a flash of the old fear come rushing back.

  And then just as quickly she dispelled it. He loved her. However reluctantly, he loved her.

  His lips were warm and firm and sure as they moved over hers. It occurred to her that every other time he'd kissed her, he'd held something back.