Texas Proud (Vincente 2) (30 page)

She just had to be more careful from now on,
and trust no one but Zeb and Winna Mae, and
maybe Tanner.

She tried to think who could want her dead. Delia? No, not her sister. She knew Delia had faultsshe drank, and deep down she was unhappy-but
Rachel also knew that her sister loved her and
would never hurt her. Could it be Whit? Perhaps.
He was capable of anything. But she doubted he would go as far as trying to kill her. What about
Noble? Her breathing closed off and she experienced a stabbing pain in her heart.

"Please don't let it be Noble," she said aloud.

The weather had suddenly turned bitterly cold,
and dark thunderheads dominated the western
sky, while the eastern sky had an eerie yellow
glow.

Rachel stepped off the porch and watched the
cowhands ride in with Tanner at their head. She
allowed her glance to linger on each face, wondering if one of the men who worked for her had
locked her in the barn and then set it on fire. She
decided that none of them would have committed
such a heinous act. Besides, they had been in town
with Tanner and Zeb.

The cowhands stared in dismay at the charred
remains of the barn; then each turned his gaze to
their lady boss. They noticed that Rachel's hands were bandaged, and they looked even more puzzled.

"We had a fire,' she said, stating the obvious,
unwilling to explain what had really happened
when she wasn't even sure herself. Later she
would explain to Tanner and Zeb what had happened, and they could warn the others to be on
their guard against any strangers who showed up
at the ranch.

"Lightning must've struck the barn," Tanner
said, dismounting and moving toward the blackened ruins for a closer look. "Did the animals get
out, Miss Rachel?"

"Yes," Rachel answered. "All of them."

Zeb reached down and picked up the hinges
from the ashes and studied them for a moment.
Then his canny gaze swung to Rachel's face and
to her bandaged hands, which she'd kept clasped
behind her. He read more from what she wasn't
saying than from what she'd said. "I knew I
shouldn'ta gone into town and left you alone.
There's too many strange calamities been happening lately." He closely examined the twisted hinge
and scratched his head reflectively. "Any fire hot
enough to melt this weren't nature made. No siree,
it was a man done this 'less I miss my guess."

Winna Mae met the old man's eyes, sending him
a silent confirmation of his suspicions.

Meanwhile Rachel drew Tanner aside, while the
other hands strolled toward the bunkhouse, anx ious to put the coffee to brewing before Zeb set
his hand to it.

Tanner looked down at Rachel's hands. "You
got that in the fire?"

Rachel nodded. "I'll tell you about it later. How
much did you get for the herd?" she asked.

The roughness of Tanner's face smoothed out
and he smiled. "I brought you some good news,
Miss Rachel."

"What?" She could use some good news, she
thought.

"I sold the cattle at the stockyard like you said.
And as we suspected, a Yankee sergeant bought
them all for the army."

"Is that supposed to cheer me up?" She shifted
from one foot to the other, while trying to follow
his reasoning. "I didn't want to sell to the Yankees,
but what choice did I have?"

"They're offering even less than we figured,"
Tanner continued. "Three dollars a head and not
the four we wanted. But I took it like you told me
to.

She sighed inwardly, calculating the total. "It's
not nearly enough. Did you pay the men?" That
was her first concern.

"Yes, ma'am." He gazed back at the charred remains of the barn. "Then I took myself over to the
tax assessor, thinking I might be able to talk him
into taking part of the taxes now and the rest after
spring roundup."

Rachel's eyes brightened with hope. "Tanner, are you telling me he agreed to wait until spring
for the rest of the taxes?"

"Nope. Better than that. He said they'd made a
mistake in your tax assessment. Said your taxes
were only two hundred and fifty dollars. I paid
him right then, knowing that was what you'd want
me to do." Tanner looked pleased. "I didn't know
those tax people could make mistakes. 'Specially
not such a whopper."

Instead of looking pleased, Rachel's eyes became like sword points. She felt her heart plummet and she was overwhelmed by agony. For a
long moment she stood like a statue while her
mind whirled. "They don't make mistakes, Tanner," she exclaimed.

Before Tanner realized what Rachel was doing,
she jerked the reins out of his hand, crammed her
booted foot into the stirrups and swung onto his
saddle. "Tell Winna Mae not to worry about me.
I'm going to see Noble Vincente."

"Miss Rachel," Zeb called, hurrying after her,
"the river's up. Could be flooding by now. 'Sides,
I feel a coldness in my bones there's worse
weather on the way could be one of those blue
northers coming. Don't go riding off anywhere."

Usually just the words blue norther struck fear
in the heart of anyone who had ever felt the effects
of the uncommon storm. Rachel merely looked at
the old man for a moment and then urged the
horse into a gallop, leaving Zeb to eat the horse's
dust.

Tanner watched Rachel ride away astride his
horse. If he lived to be a hundred, he'd never understand women especially not that pretty little
filly. He'd thought Rachel would be pleased about
the taxes. But she sure as hell hadn't been. What
bee was buzzing around in her bonnet? he wondered. He turned to Zeb and shrugged, noticing
that the old man looked worried.

Tanner wanted a cup of coffee to warm him. It
had dropped at least ten degrees since they'd ridden in.

Zeb had been right about the river. It was full to
its banks and running swiftly, with uprooted trees
and other debris being swept downstream. Unmindful of the danger, Rachel plunged the horse
into the swollen current, and after being carried
downstream, they made it safely across.

Rachel set her eyes on the distance while anger
gnawed at her. She hadn't a doubt in her mind
that Noble had paid the bulk of her taxes. Yes, and
he had concocted the story that the tax assessor
had told Tanner. If he thought she would be grateful to him, he was mistaken. She would rather lose
the Broken Spur than take Noble's money.

Wet and bedraggled, Rachel dismounted and
hurried up the walkway to Noble's house. Knocking on the door, she braced herself, ready to do
battle with him and wishing she had the money
to throw in his face.

Margretta opened the door and smiled brightly when she saw Rachel. "Pardon, Senorita Rachel,
el Patron" she hesitated, trying to find the words
in English "is away. Please to...enter."

"Gracias, no," Rachel replied in frustration.
"Tell Senor Vincente that I want to see him at
once."

Margretta looked puzzled. "Pardon, senorita?"
She looked behind her and motioned for someone
to come forward. Her husband, Alejandro, appeared at her side. His lips curved into a smile
when he saw Rachel.

"Come in, senorita," said Alejandro, who had a
better command of English than his wife. "You
are welcome in this house."

"Is Senor Vincente at home, Alejandro?"

"No, senorita. He will not be back until afternoon."

Rachel had torn the bandages away from her
hands before she entered the river, and they were
cold. She reached into the pocket of her heavy
coat and removed her gloves. Impatiently she
worked her fingers into them, wincing at the pain
from her burns. "Tell Noble when he comes home
that I want to see him."

"Si, I will tell him, Senorita Rachel. But he will
be sorry to miss you. Will you not come inside and
wait? I am sure that Senorita Saber would be glad
to see you."

"Saber has come home?" Rachel asked, knowing if it were any other time, she would be happy
to see Noble's sister.

"Si, Senorita Rachel." He stepped away from the
door to allow her to enter. "Come in."

As much as Rachel would have liked to see Saber, she was too angry for pleasantries. "Just give
my message to your Patron." She turned away and
mounted her horse.

With a troubled expression, Alejandro watched
her ride away. As he glanced at the clouds, his
anxiety deepened. There was a storm brewing,
and it looked as if it would be a bad one. He hoped
the senorita would reach home before it struck.

As often happened in West Texas, the blue norther
struck without warning, making Zeb's prediction
come true. The temperature plummeted to below
freezing within minutes. Snow fell eastward,
slowly at first, and then with blinding intensity.
The wind whipped across the land, bending trees,
its howl sounding like a woman's scream.

Rachel had not yet reached the Brazos when she
was surrounded by a world of swirling, bonechilling cold. The snow was so heavy, she couldn't
see past her horse's head. She knew that she had
to find shelter soon or she would freeze to death.
She became disoriented. Frantically she glanced
behind her, wondering which direction to take.

Huddling in her coat, she had never felt so cold.
Why hadn't she listened to Zeb? If only the wind
would stop blowing, she might be able to hear the
river and gauge her direction.

A strong gust drove snow into her face, and it felt like tiny needles pricking her skin. She had
known people who had been caught in a blue
norther and had barely escaped death. Six years
ago, Hamp Whitlock had frozen to death while
looking for strays. When they found him, he was
less than a hundred yards from his house. It was
said that he'd lost his direction in the blinding
snow and couldn't find his way.

The horse stumbled over a slippery spot and
went down with Rachel on its back. She managed
to free her left leg, which was wedged beneath the
horse, and slide out from under its bulk. She
grasped the reins and pulled. "Come on. You have
to get up or you'll freeze to death."

The poor animal attempted to rise, but made an
agonizing sound of pain. Rachel quickly examined the horse's right front leg and she realized,
in horror, that it was broken. She had left in such
a hurry that she had neglected to bring a gun, so
she was unable to put the animal out of its misery.

Unsure of what to do, she sat down near the
thrashing animal, wondering who would find
their bodies when the storm cleared. No man
would go out in this storm to look for her, because
it would mean his death as well.

She didn't know how much time passed, but the
horse lay quieter now, only making occasional
soft whinnies. Her teeth chattering and her body
trembling from cold, she dropped her head on the
horse's neck, needing to feel close to another living creature. She tried to guess her location, but nothing looked familiar. She was still on the Casa
del Sol side of the Brazos because she hadn't
crossed the river. Would Noble be the one to find
her dead body?

Visions of his face flashed before her, and she
cried out to him. "Noble, help me. Please help
me." She had always heard that one called out for
one's beloved at death, and she had called for Noble. Until now, she hadn't known the extent of her
love for him.

She felt as if a weight pressed in on her chest,
and she had never been so cold. With death beckoning to her, she could be honest at least with herself. "Noble, I love you," she said between
trembling lips. But her cry mingled with the snow
and was lost on the wings of the howling norther.

Rachel didn't know how much time had passed,
but the horse lay completely still. She tried to rake
the snow off the poor animal, but it was falling
too heavily. Ice had formed on Rachel's lashes and
in her hair. She hardly felt the cold now, only
numbness. The air seemed to freeze in her lungs
and throat. A sensation not unlike swimming in
the river came over her and she closed her eyes,
giving herself over to the lingering comfort it offered.

Sleep, that was what she needed sleep. It hurt
to move, it took effort for her to open her eyes,
and it took all her strength just to breathe.

Noble spoke quickly to Alejandro. "Tell me again
what Rachel said." His eyes went to the window,
but he could see nothing past the blinding snowstorm.

"She said she wanted to see you, Patron. And
when I told her you were not here, she went away.
I asked her to wait, that there was bad weather
coming, but she went anyway."

Noble reached for his wool-lined coat and lifted
his rifle from the gun rack. "I must look for her.
She couldn't have made it home in time to avoid
the norther."

"But Patron, you will get lost in the snow," Alejandro argued, his dark eyes filled with concern.
"If you go, I will go with you."

Noble walked to the door, and stopped as if he
were listening to something. "Did you hear that?"

"I heard only the wind," Alejandro said. "What
did you hear?"