WM02 - Texas Princess (24 page)

He didn’t disappoint her now. “Miss Liberty,” he started with a half cough.

“Yes, Mr. McMurray.” She smiled, not wil ing to offer him the use of her rst name as she had everyone in the house.

He looked at her then. Blue eyes like his brother. But Teagen’s were more the color of steel. Liberty met his gaze. She’d been around powerful men al her life and would show no fear of this one.

“I don’t remember much but the pain last night, but I know you were there helping to patch me up.”

“I was,” she answered.

“I thank you for that. I have few friends in this world, but I’d like to count you as one.”

Liberty knew he didn’t say the words lightly. “I would be honored.”

He frowned but nodded, looking half embarrassed.

She guessed that would be the end of his speech, so she asked, “Teagen, is Tobin coming in for his lunch?”

He shook his head. “There’s work to do. Ranch work doesn’t stop to grieve or to entertain.”

“I haven’t asked to be entertained.” She resented his words. She’d worked as hard as Sage and Martha al morning.

“I know you haven’t . . .” A hint of a smile almost lifted the corner of his mouth.

“Liberty.”

She moved to the edge of the porch. “Can I help Tobin?”

“You can offer, but you’l have to ride.”

She winked at him as she stepped off the porch. “It seems I lied to you when I said I’d never learn to ride. I’ve developed a fondness of it.”

Liberty thought she heard him laugh as she ran toward the barn.

She found Tobin saddling a fresh mount. “What’s going on?”

“Teagen said there’s a mare about to foal in the east pasture. I need to ride out and check on her.”

“Want some company?”

Tobin stared at her as if he didn’t understand the question, then nodded slightly and saddled another horse.

He might be happy with the silence, but she wasn’t. “I helped Martha with the bread making. I used to do that with Anna when I was a child.” She fol owed him out of the corral. “Sage is in her room. I think she needs some time alone. She said she wanted to nish her letter to Michael.”

Liberty couldn’t tel if Tobin was listening to her. “Teagen let me change his dressing, but he grumbled through the whole thing. I helped Sage move her things upstairs to your room. She said Travis and his wife can have her room and she’l take yours. I guess that leaves you downstairs in the study. I saw Martha toss a few blankets in there by the re. They were for you, though that doesn’t look like a comfortable spot to sleep. At least it’s better then the outdoors on this gray day. I’ve almost lost track, but I think it’s the rst of October.”

Tobin patted the horses and turned to her. For a moment, he just looked at her, then he moved closer until he was almost touching her.

Liberty forced herself to remain stil and not step away.

“Are you planning on talking al the while you tag along,” he asked, his mouth almost touching her ear.

“No.” She swal owed.

“Good.” He lifted her onto the saddle.

Before Liberty had time to think about his rudeness, they were riding at ful gal op toward the east pasture. The cold air felt good on her face and her movements on horseback seemed natural now. She smiled, deciding she loved riding.

She watched Tobin when he reached the smal herd of beautiful animals. First, he counted them, then scanned the area, as if making sure there was plenty of water and grass.

He swung from his horse and whistled as he moved among them like an old friend, brushing his hand along their backs in greeting, letting them smel and nuzzle against him. He checked their hooves and ran his hand beneath one’s swol en bel y making sure she was al right. He talked in a low voice, having more to say to the horses than he’d said to her al morning.

Liberty couldn’t help but smile. Sage had told her the story of why Tobin loved the horses, and she’d seen his care before, but not so completely as now. Even from twenty feet away she could hear him.

Final y, he came back to her and his mount. “The mare’s al right.” He sounded relieved. “Dropping a little in the ank, but not as close to delivering a colt as Teagen thought, but this time of year it pays to be safe.”

“You’re waiting for your ranger horse,” she whispered.

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Sage told me. You’ve worked with breeding speed along with the stamina of the horses running free in these hil s. Sage said you’ve tried to produce the perfect horse for your brother Travis.”

He smiled. “Maybe. I never real y thought about it being a ranger horse, but I guess Sage is right. My father brought a stal ion born to run with him. The wild horses around here are offspring of a herd the Spanish explorers left over a hundred years ago.

They’re survivors and strong like my sister’s horse, Glory. Blend the two and I’d have a mount t for a Texas Ranger. It’s not what I think a lot about, but with each colt it’s a possibility.” He swung into the saddle. “I’l check on this one tomorrow. If she seems closer, I’l bring her in.”

They rode on to the next smal herd and the next. Sometimes he checked fences, sometimes they rode along the creek bed as if he were looking for strange tracks in the mud, but always Tobin saw to the horses.

Three hours passed before he turned back toward the ranch house without another word spoken to her. Part of the afternoon she wasn’t even sure he knew she fol owed.

She felt as if the hours she’d shared with him in the darkness on the trail had only been a dream. How could a man make love to her and then look at her as if he barely remembered her name?

When he helped her down near the back steps, he asked, “How’s your side?”

She wouldn’t have been surprised if he ran his hand along her just as he had the horses. “Fine,” she answered. “I left the bandage off this morning.”

He simply nodded and led the horses away. Liberty guessed she’d have to attack him to get him to pay even the slightest attention to her. She knew he was trying to do her a favor by making it easy to stay away from him, but something about him drew her.

Maybe, once she was back in Washington society, there would be other distractions and she wouldn’t nd Tobin McMurray the least bit attractive, but for now even the smel of him attracted her.

An hour before sunset, Liberty stood on the porch and watched a wagon moving toward them. A man, as big as Teagen and Tobin, drove with a smal woman and a child sitting beside him.

As if the world cried with Sage, it began to rain softly as the wagon drew near. No one but Liberty seemed to notice.

Tobin opened the barn doors wide and everyone walked through the mud fol owing the wagon.

Once inside the shadowy barn, Liberty watched as the McMurray family greeted one another. The middle brother, Travis, passed a sleeping boy from his shoulder to Tobin’s. She remembered Sage’s saying Travis had an adopted son they al cal ed Duck. She felt very much the outsider that she was as she witnessed their grief.

Travis helped a smal woman down from the wagon with a tenderness that surprised Liberty. Travis McMurray was leaner than his brothers with a hint of Apache features, but his care of his wife spoke more beautiful y than any love sonnet could have. He didn’t just love and respect her, he cherished her.

Once his wife had thanked him with a pat on his sleeve, she turned to Liberty.

189

While the men moved to the buckboard, she extended her hand. “I’m Rainey, Travis’s wife and of course you are the beautiful Liberty Mayeld. I’ve a message from your father,” she whispered with a smile. “He says he’s wel and hardy and much comforted to know you are safe.”

Liberty liked the woman at once. She had kind eyes and a soft voice. “Thank you, Rainey.”

The little woman squeezed Liberty’s hand before turning to Sage, and Liberty realized she no longer felt like an outsider.

Travis pul ed the tarp back from the wagon bed. A body lay wrapped in a thin blanket and tied with rope. Even though the days had been cool, the body already smel ed of death.

“What do we do?” Sage asked choking back a sob.

None of them answered.

Final y, Teagen spoke. “We wrapped Mother in one of her Indian blankets.”

Tobin looked down at the body. “We have the cofn ready. I guess we put him in it, then tomorrow at dawn we’l bury him. Mother once said that the good should always be buried at sunrise for they have no fear of meeting the next day.”

Sage spread her hand over the blanket. “We can’t bury him like this.” Tears streaked her face. “The blanket has dried blood and mud al over it.”

Liberty understood and stepped forward, putting her arm around Sage’s shoulders. “I know what to do,” she whispered. “I’ve helped prepare others to make the last journey.

We’l see that he’s ready.”

Al three brothers stared at her, but Sage smiled in understanding.

Liberty realized this family hadn’t buried anyone since they were al children. “I’l help you wash al the blood and dirt from his body and then we’l put his best clothes on.”

“And his badge and gun,” Sage whispered. “He’l want to have them with him.”

Travis’s wife joined them, her kind eyes ful of understanding. “I’l help also. We brought his belongings. I’l pick out his best and make sure they’re washed and mended.”

While Travis and Tobin carried the body to the bunkhouse, Liberty helped Sage col ect al the things they would need. She reminded herself that she hadn’t lied about knowing what to do; she’d watched twice. But both deaths that Liberty had assisted with had been from old age. Not violent deaths.

As the women began to work, Sage hummed, reminding Liberty of the way Tobin had whistled low when he walked in among the horses, calming them with his familiar sound.

Sage seemed to be doing the same thing, only Liberty knew it was to calm herself this time. When Sage would pause, having trouble continuing the hard duty, Rainey, Travis’s wife always stood near. She would offer a word or a touch that would help Sage walk over the bridge of pain and grief.

Liberty couldn’t help but wonder how the sweet little lady who smel ed of cinnamon and

owers could have ever matched up with Travis McMurray, a legend in the Texas Rangers. Her father liked to tel the story of how Travis and two other rangers had saved his life once. In the tel ing, Liberty always saw Travis as a giant warrior of a man not afraid of anything, but now, seeing the way his eyes always fol owed Rainey, she saw a different side.

In watching them, she felt a sadness, wondering if she’d ever be loved so dearly.

Would a man ever look at her as if he’d cross hel ’s re to get to her?

While they worked, Teagen and Tobin sat on the bunkhouse porch with ries ready and talked.

Liberty heard Travis join them.

“I got the boy to sleep,” he said. “Duck doesn’t like sleeping out on the trail.”

“You think his family might have been attacked while they were traveling?” Teagen asked.

“I think it’s a possibility. The raiders I saw the boy with looked mean enough to ride in and kil a family just for the food supplies. Strange they didn’t kil the boy.”

“Maybe they gured he was too young to remember what happened to his folks.”

Travis shook his head. “They had him tied up like he was a pet. It makes me sick to think about the way he looked that day in the camp. He looked at me and I think he knew I was there to help him.”

Teagen laughed. “He sure took to you.”

“He took to us al . I’ve tried every channel and found no one who knew of him or his family.”

“He’s ours now,” Tobin observed, joining the conversation.

His brothers agreed that it didn’t matter that Duck had no past or name; he was McMurray now.

While Liberty worked she listened, comforted by the good in the men a few feet away.

They were tough, strong, and rough. Sage said folks walked a wide circle around her brothers. But they were more, far more than they let the world see.

She glanced up at Rainey and in her eyes, Liberty saw understanding and knew they were thinking the same thing.

Suddenly, Liberty understood how Rainey could love the wild Texas Ranger she’d married.

Liberty turned back to the body of Michael Saddler and knew she was strong enough to do what had to be done. They al were.

She bit her bottom lip as she cut away the blanket from the young ranger’s body. He spil ed his blood saving her father and the least she could do was help. If the young ranger had no wife or mother to wash him, she would. If nothing else, she seemed to have given Sage a purpose.

When Sage washed away blood from her Michael’s arm, she whispered, “My brothers don’t understand why we’re doing this, but you do, Libby.”

Liberty shook her head. “It’s the last way we can say we care.”

She noticed Sage turn her washrag over, brushing the back of her hand along his cold skin. She seemed to be silently saying good-bye to what might have been.

An hour later, with Michael’s body dressed and in a cofn lined in blue, the family returned to the house and al sat down at the dining table for a simple meal of soup and corn bread. No one talked much, but Liberty noticed a pride in the lift of Sage’s chin even though she ate nothing. She’d said her farewel to her ranger.

The family said good night, everyone too tired and drained for conversation. Within half an hour, the house was quiet. Liberty and Sage were upstairs, but Sage left to sit with Michael for a while and Liberty guessed she’d spend the night in the bunkhouse beside the cofn.

After washing up, Liberty tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen. She wasn’t sleepy yet. Too many emotions ooded through her. This ranch was a strange place, a world where life was lived with al the senses. It frightened as wel as fascinated her. She was closer to Rainey and Sage than she was to al her Washington friends.

She made coffee and sat drinking it quietly, reecting that she’d felt more today than she’d felt in years. These people didn’t play any of the games of society. She wished she could take some of the honesty of their lives back home with her.

When she passed the study, she noticed Tobin sitting by the re staring into the