Lorraine Heath (13 page)

“Don’t you trust anyone?” Charles asked.

Jesse glanced up. “Trusted you.”

Charles heaved a deep sigh and dropped into a chair across from his brother. “You can’t blame Maddie because I spent your money on her. She didn’t ask me to.”

“I don’t blame her. I don’t even care about the money anymore.”

“Then what prompted your actions today?”

Jesse downed the whiskey, reached for the bottle, and refilled his glass. “Want some?”

“No.”

He held the glass up to the lamp on the desk. “It’s pretty with the light shining through it, don’t you think?”

“You’re drunk.”

Jesse shook his head. “Sometimes, Maddie’s eyes look like this. A light shining through them.” He lowered the glass. “But most of the time, they look like this … dark. She’s afraid of something.” With his fingers crooked, he turned his hand. “If I could just grasp whatever it is she’s afraid of, I could take the darkness away. Keep the light in her eyes all the time.”

“You could just ask her, you know.”

“I’m one of the things she fears.”

“Can’t image why. Promising her nightmares worse than the ones she already has.”

“She was lying.”

“You think—”

“I know,” Jesse insisted, his voice hard, leaving no room for doubt. “That man’s trouble, Charles. She was nervous that night we sat on the porch, but I thought it was because of all the people who were here. She’s afraid he’ll come back, and damn it, if I don’t know who he is, how will I know him when he shows up?”

“Maybe she’d trust you if you’d stop thinking of her as a case—”

“Believe me, Charles, I’m not thinking of her as a case.” He brought the glass to his lips and threw his head back.

“What are you thinking of her as?”

Jesse gave his brother a hard stare. “Your wife.”

Proudly, Maddie gazed at the table. She’d ironed the white cloth until there wasn’t a wrinkle in it. Then she’d set the china dishes and silver utensils in place. A duchess would be honored to eat here.

The stagecoach had arrived just after noon. The passengers had disembarked and were now relaxing in the parlor. The stagecoach that had come through before had only stopped long enough for a change of horses and to pick up the mail. But today, the whip was giving the passengers a two-hour rest before he drove them on to Austin.

She walked into the kitchen, picked up two folded towels, and wrapped them around the handles of a large pot. Jesse came up behind her.

“I can get that for you.”

She elbowed him in the ribs, picked up the pot, shoved her way past him, and walked back to the dining room.

Charles’s laughter filled the kitchen. “Remind me never to make her angry. I didn’t know she had such a fiery temper and held a grudge so long.”

“Hell, you didn’t know
anything
about her.”

Charles’s smile faded. “I knew a hell of a lot more than you realize.”

Maddie walked back into the room. “Charles, don’t you think the hired hand ought to be seeing to the horses?”

Charles bit back his laughter at the thunderous expression crossing Jesse’s face. Seemingly oblivious to it, Maddie placed a warm loaf of bread on a plate and walked back into the dining room.

“Maybe you ought to see to the horses,” Charles suggested.

Jesse stormed across the room, yanked his hat off the peg on the wall, and slammed the door behind him. Utter contentment written across her face, Maddie walked into the kitchen. “You can tell our guests that the meal is ready.”

She began to set the table for the family, adding additional places for the driver and his guards, neglecting to set a place at the end of the table where Jesse usually sat.

“Maddie, it’s been three days. Don’t you think you could forgive him just a little bit?”

“When he apologizes.”

“He doesn’t think he did anything wrong.”

“Then it’s time he learned that he did.”

“I know he hurt your feelings—”

“He did not hurt my feelings. The food I set out for our guests is getting cold.”

Sighing in defeat, Charles walked out of the room. Maddie stepped out onto the porch and called the children. She had just placed them at the table and filled their plates when Charles returned and took his seat. The door opened, and the driver and two guards walked in, Jesse following behind.

Jesse glanced at the table and retrieved a plate from the cabinet as everyone else took their places. He dug some utensils from the drawer. Scraping his chair across the floor, he dropped down and proceeded to heap food upon his plate.

“This is real good, ma’am.”

Maddie glanced at the whip. He looked to be a man who spent a great deal of time sampling food. His red hair lay flat against his head but flared out at the sides so it appeared he was still wearing his hat. He flicked some crumbs from his scraggly beard. She forced a smile. “Thank you.”

“So you’re traveling with two guards now, Nate?” Jesse asked.

“Yep. We’ve had too dang many robberies lately. You’d think people’d forgotten what honest work was. Rangers have been setting up ambushes in areas where they think a robbery is likely to take place, but if they guess wrong, I got these two right here to cover my butt.”

“How many times have you been attacked?” Jesse asked.

“Twice this month.” Nate Webster eyed Jesse. “You thinking of going back to being a Texas Ranger?”

Jesse shook his head. “Nope, I like it right where I am.”

“Even with the missus mad at you?” Nate guffawed, then nudged Jesse’s elbow. “Wanna tell me what you did to get her all riled?”

Since his uncle was only glaring at the man, Aaron spoke. “She’s mad at him cuz—”

Jesse cleared his throat with such force that one of the guards jerked back and nearly toppled over in his chair. Aaron would have laughed, but with his uncle’s intense gaze concentrated on him, he wasn’t even daring to breathe.

Nate stretched his arm across the table and tapped Aaron’s hand. “Come on, boy, you can tell me.”

Swallowing, Aaron shifted his glance over to the whip. “No, sir. I’d best not.”

“Ah, come on, boy. Me and your uncle’s old friends. We got no secrets from each other.”

“I should have let those Comanche braves take your scalp,” Jesse growled.

Aaron’s eyes widened as Nate slapped his hands on the table, threw his head back, and howled out his laughter.

“Did Uncle Jesse save your life?”

Nate wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Sure did, boy. Course it was way back before he was a Ranger. He was still in the army, so he weren’t much bigger than you when he did it. Indians had us surrounded. Then this skinny feller comes riding over the hill, guns a-blazing!” Nate held his hands in the air, his forefinger and thumb extended, his thumb bending back and forth, rapidly. “Bang! Bang! Bang! He chased ‘em away!”

“Did he really?” Aaron hopped up, his excitement at hearing a tale about his uncle too great to keep him in his chair.

“Sure as hell did.”

“More than likely it was the half-dozen men riding behind me that scared them off,” Jesse said.

“Behind you is right. Hell, they was so far behind you, you was the only one who knew they was there.”

Jesse scowled. “Don’t be filling the boy’s head with lies.”

Nate leaned across the table, his dark eyes honing in on Aaron’s. “Then I’ll tell you the honest to God truth, boy. Your uncle is the best lawman that ever lived. Ain’t a person who knows him will tell you different.”

Maddie had become so caught up listening to Nate’s rendition of the event that she forgot for a moment that she was angry with the hero of the tale. Instead, she found herself watching him, trying to imagine him as a young man, his beliefs then in the difference between right and wrong as strong as they were now.

His eyes captured hers for a brief moment before he shoved his chair back and walked out of the house.

“Why’d Uncle Jesse leave ‘fore he was finished eating?” Aaron asked.

“Cuz, boy, he don’t like being bragged on,” Nate explained as he scraped the beans across his plate and shoved them into his mouth.

Alert to any sounds coming from the hallway, the intruder tiptoed through the room. The stagecoach had left but moments before, and he knew everyone would be returning to the house soon.

Cautiously, he pulled open the top drawer of the bedside table. Peering inside, he allowed a victorious smile to travel across his face before reaching for the tattered and worn book.

A journal. His uncle’s journal in which he’d recorded his exploits as a Texas Ranger. The words that graced the pages were a mystery, for he had yet to learn how to read the writing with the fancy curves and curls that adults used, but he planned to learn someday. When he did, he’d read the journal and know all the things about being a Texas Ranger that his uncle kept secret.

Leafing through the yellowing pages, Aaron halted when he came to the two pages between which the key rested. He took the key out and set the book on the bed.

He moved stealthily across the room to the huge trunk where his uncle kept the souvenirs of his life as a Ranger. He inserted the key and twisted it. Grunting, he lifted the heavy lid.

He moved aside the woven blanket that had been given to his uncle by an Indian chief. He shoved aside the commendation medals, the gun belt into which an outlaw had carved notches. He moved aside spurs and dug deeper until he felt the messenger of death. Slowly, he pulled it out to inspect as he had on numerous occasions when no one was around.

He ran a knobby-knuckled finger over the polished ivory handle. The sun pouring in through the window glinted off the silver metal of the barrel. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. He folded worshipful hands around the Colt revolver.

“Whacha doing?” Hannah asked.

Crouching, Aaron spun around and clamped his fingers around the gun. “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on people?”

Her eyes widened. “You ain’t supposed to play with Uncle Jesse’s gun. I’m gonna tell Pa.”

He charged across the room and grabbed his sister’s arm. “Ah, come on, Hannah. Did Uncle Jesse ever show you where he keeps the key to his chest?”

She shook her head.

“Well, he told me so I could use his gun whenever I needed it.”

Hannah appeared doubtful despite the evidence.

“I ain’t playing with it. I just wanted to have it with me when I went out to the woods in case that man I saw with Miss Maddie is still around.”

“What you gonna do in the woods?”

“I was just gonna play Texas Ranger. I’ll let you play if you won’t tell Pa. Telling Pa’ll get Uncle Jesse into a heap of trouble.”

Thoughtfully, she chewed her bottom lip.

“You don’t want to get Uncle Jesse into trouble, do you?”

She shook her head.

“Good.” He wrapped his hand around hers and tugged her toward the door. He peered out into the hallway. Not a soul was in sight. He hurried down the hall, pulling Hannah along with him. He dashed into his father’s room and scurried to the door that led out onto the veranda.

“Why are we sneaking if Uncle Jesse wants you to have the gun?”

“Shh!” Aaron scolded. “If you’re going to be a Ranger, you got to be awfully quiet. I’m testing you now to see if I can let you into my outfit or not.” He pushed open the door and eased out onto the veranda. Still no one was in sight. With Hannah close on his heels, he haltingly descended the stairs, keeping his eyes and ears alert. When his feet hit the dirt, he ran toward the woods.

He didn’t stop running until he was hidden by the trees. Then he waited, listening for Hannah’s small feet. Breathless and wide-eyed, she finally caught up to him.

“I reckon you’ll make a pretty good Ranger. You can help me search for Sam Bass.”

“But Uncle Jesse shot him.”

“No, he didn’t. Another Ranger did. But Uncle Jesse helped track him down. That’s what we’re going to play. We’re in Round Rock, and we know Bass is gonna be here any time cuz one of his men sent us a telegram.” Reaching down, he picked up a stick. “Here. You can be Uncle Jesse, and I’ll be the Ranger that shot Bass.”

Wrinkling her nose, Hannah studied the forked twig, trying to decide which end was the shooting end.

“Follow me,” he whispered as though they were surrounded by outlaws.

“Aaron, you really think that man is still here?”

“Might be. That’s why I got the gun.”

“How will I know if I see him?”

“You’ll know.”

“How?”

Aaron moved closer to her and whispered as though the trees had ears, “He’s bigger than Uncle Jesse, so big he blocks out the sun. And he’s got scars running all over his face. His face looks like the creek when the water’s low and the mud dries.”

Her eyes grew round.

“And he stinks something fierce. Me and Billy thought it was a skunk behind the barn. That’s what we went to see, but it wasn’t. It was him.”

Her eyes got wider, and Aaron couldn’t help himself. He shouted, “Boo!”

Hannah shrieked, and Aaron laughed. “Come on, Hannah. If you see him, just holler and I’ll save you.” He headed into the woods.

Hannah bent down and cautiously moved forward. She heard the branches rustle and tightened her hold on the twig. She heard a field mouse scurry under the moss and squeezed the twig until her fingers ached. She heard leaves from previous winters crackle in the distance and felt her heart pounding against her chest.

They came to a clearing. She had no desire to be in the open. She wanted to stay hidden. She stopped on the outskirts, but Aaron trudged forward. “Aaron,” she squeaked.

“Shh!” he commanded as he moved across the clearing.

She knew she should follow him, but she was hearing too many noises. Aaron disappeared into the brush on the other side of the clearing. The noises behind her increased. Not daring to breathe, Hannah glanced behind her as a large shadowy figure emerged from beyond the trees. She screamed at the top of her lungs.

Aaron came thrashing back through the trees. His boot caught on the gnarled root of a tree. He fell forward. His arms hit the hard ground, jarring his elbows as his fingers tightened on the trigger. The recoil from the gun momentarily lifted him and shoved him backward.

Upon hearing a child’s terrified scream, Jesse rushed into the clearing. The sound of an explosion registered in his mind a split second before he felt something slam into him and ignite an invisible fire within his body. His knees buckled as he clutched his left side, vaguely aware of the sticky warmth flowing through his fingers.

Through a haze of pain, he saw Aaron dart away. On his knees, bracing himself upright with one arm, he called out to the boy, but the sounds coming from his throat were garbled and distant, unrecognizable.

Collapsing to the ground, he watched blackness ease in around the outer edge of the sky. Tiny fingers patted his cheek.

“Hannah, get your pa,” he forced out through labored breaths.

“You gonna whup Aaron?”

He rolled his head from side to side, blinking the sweat from his eyes, fighting down the bile rising in his throat. “No, just get your pa.”

“Promise you won’t whup Aaron?”

“Promise.” The last thing he saw before the blackness enveloped him was a little girl patiently watching him as though he was a wilting wildflower.

Far away through the dense fog hovering over him, he heard the pounding of the ground. Cattle. Cattle were coming, stampeding. He had to get out of the way, but he was so damned tired. He opened his eyes to the gray skies. Sweet Lord. He’d come awake too late. He already felt as though he’d been trampled. He tried to sit up, and the warmth flowed around him. The cattle were getting closer. He ceased his efforts as the stampeding grew louder. Then the pounding stopped, and the sky was obliterated by Charles’s concerned face.

Whiskey. He needed whiskey. And then she was there, kneeling beside him. He drank of the whiskey in her eyes, strengthening his resolve not to die from a wound made by an eight-year-old boy.