WM02 - Texas Princess (5 page)

From what he’d seen when he rode onto the Mayeld spread, al the senator’s land was for show. Even the stable boy had said the Mayeld family was rarely in residence.

Like counting sheep, Tobin listed just how different Liberty was from him. He didn’t even know how to dance, and she owned at least one bal gown just for that purpose.

Her father was probably one of the richest men in the state, with plans, some say, to go al the way to the White House. Tobin worked a family ranch and never planned even to see Washington, D.C. She was al re and ght. He’d seen it in her eyes when she’d looked at the man she cal ed Captain. Tobin avoided arguments even with his little sister.

They were no match, he knew that, but then why had he touched her and held her against him like he had some kind of right. Why had the feel of her branded itself into his esh, his thought, as if the nearness of her were a promise unfull ed.

If she hadn’t pul ed away, he probably would have kissed her.

Tobin swore again and mumbled. “She’s afraid of horses. What kind of woman fears horses?” Then, just for good measure, he answered his own question, “Not any woman I’d ever want.”

“Mr. McMurray?” an Irish avored voice came from the other side of his stal . “Mr.

McMurray, ye in here?”

Tobin stood, brushing hay off as he walked to the stal gate. “I’m here,” he answered, wondering what anyone would want with him this time of night.

A wiry man in his fties stood in the center of the barn. His dark red hair had turned white at the temples, but his smile was genuine. “Pleased to meet ye, Mr. McMurray.

Dermot is me name. I hope ye found al ye needed to make ye and that gorgeous horse, I seen in the rst stal , comfortable. The senator told me to be on the lookout for ye, but I got busy with al the carriages coming and going.”

Tobin offered his hand, deciding he liked the Irishman.

Dermot didn’t seem to notice Tobin hadn’t said a word. He continued, “Worked for the senator, I have, since I stepped off the boat in New York. Finer man never lived. Me and the missus come with him every year when he sails down to Texas. The senator may be al spit and polish in the city, but his roots plant themselves in the West.”

Tobin nodded agreement even though he’d never met the senator.

Dermot lifted a lantern. “I met your brother Teagen when he came a few weeks ago, and your other brother, Travis, once when he was a Texas Ranger.” The Irishman came closer. “Ye don’t look like him, but I see the kin in your build. Ranger Travis McMurray saved the senator’s and me hide back in ’forty-eight, and we’l never forget it. Far as me own judgment, his kin is family. Have ye had supper?”

Tobin shook his head answering the last question. He’d thought of riding the six miles into town for a meal, but in truth, he needed sleep more.

“Wel , we can take care of that in straight order. Me Anna’s in charge of the kitchen and busy as she is with the party, she’l stil have something on the back of the stove for supper. How about we go over and have a meal? I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to sit down meself for a bite.”

Tobin needed sleep, but he didn’t want to seem impolite.

They moved toward the house as Dermot continued, “Tonight starts the parties that wil last the rest of the week, right up to the wedding. We’ve got a house ful of important people, not that ’tis anything new. Hisself loves his dinner meetings and Miss Liberty loves her parties. Back in Washington, D.C., we sometimes go a week or more having parties every night.”

They entered a large kitchen with half a dozen servants in white uniforms moving about. While Tobin was being introduced, he couldn’t help but grin wondering how Martha would react if he brought one of these uniforms home. Their housekeeper at Whispering Mountain had worn blue dresses with white aprons since the day she arrived. When a dress wore out, she simply ordered more yards of blue material.

He saw huge trays of tiny little bits of food and was thankful when Dermot’s wife, Anna, offered him a bowl of stew. They ate at a side table off the main path. Dermot liked to brag about al the places he’d been with the senator, but he seemed a nice enough fel ow. His wife ran the kitchen and he managed the carriage house in Washington and the barn here.

Halfway through the meal Tobin got in a question. “What happened to the senator’s wife? I met the daughter when she came to the barn to see the horse I brought in.”

Dermot shook his head. “Ye might have met Miss Liberty, but I don’t think she came to the barn to see a horse. The lass has been afraid of them since she was a wee one and her mother got thrown. The senator’s lady hit her head and died instantly, ’tis said.

Hisself blamed her death on a storm that spooked her horse. Little Liberty blamed it on the horse. She screamed so bad every time she saw that horse that the senator had me sel the animal.”

Dermot scratched his long bushy sideburns. “If Miss Liberty was in the barn tonight, the lass was running from something. The little princess ies like the wind when she’s frightened and ’tis no tel ing which way she’l go. When she was a child I sometimes found her up in the loft crying her little eyes out over something. But when I asked her what had upset her, she’d storm around, claiming nothing was bothering her. Anna used to nd her curled up in the attic, her whole body shaking as she cried. But Miss Liberty would open up to no one. Got that from her father. He holds his feelings close to his chest.” He shook his head. “Life . . . ’tisn’t easy on that lass.”

Tobin looked around him at al the silver and crystal. He had a rough time believing Liberty had a hard life. He bet she hadn’t gone a day without food, and al these people were hired to wait on her every need.

The memory of her hand in his walked over his mind so strong he could almost feel the softness of her palm. Not a cal ous on it.

He fought down any comment. She might have them fooled, but he had a hard time believing this “little princess,” as Dermot cal ed her, suffered any problems. She probably hadn’t done a day’s work in her life.

Tobin accepted a slice of pie from a pretty maid whose smile hinted that she’d be wil ing to offer more. He turned his attention back to Dermot and asked the rst question that came to mind. “Isn’t it a little strange that she’d go to the barn if she was upset, what with her fear of horses?”

The Irishman shook his head. “Most of the time I keep the horses in the corral. The barn is empty. Even just after the accident that kil ed her mother, her father made the lass go with him to the barn. I made a point of bolting any stal in use.” Dermot looked up from his food. “Senator Mayeld weren’t trying to be cruel to her. He’s just a man who struggles with the meaning of fear. He never backed down from a ght in his life, not when he’s in the Senate or in his younger days when he was ghting pirates along the gulf. He even rode with Sam Houston at San Jacinto in ’thirty-six and he would have been with Zack Taylor at the border in ’forty-seven if he coulda. But by then, his battles were at the Capitol.”

Tobin thought of asking how such a brave man would sire such a frightened child, but he decided to eat his pie instead.

Dermot talked about al that was going on, mentioned several important people who would be coming in for the wedding, and ended by tel ing how Captain Buchanan’s troops were adding extra guards because, as usual, the senator was getting threats.

Senator Mayeld’s insistence on improving relationships with Mexico was not popular with many Texans.

Tobin politely listened to Dermot complain about the mule-headed leaders who wanted to slow progress, but while he understood the senator’s reasoning, he also remembered. He’d only been a boy, but the stories of the Alamo and Goliad were branded in his memory. Memories of how Santa Anna’s army had attacked the Alamo mission, outnumbering the Texans twenty to one. Rumors of how, after the Alamo fel , the Texans’ bodies were dismembered and burned. At Goliad, it had been worse.

Those men, many from southern states, had surrendered, most believing they would be al owed to lay down their weapons and leave. But they’d faced a ring squad instead.

Tobin’s jaw tightened. His father had been one who died. Oh, yes, he understood the men in Texas who didn’t want trade with Mexico, but he couldn’t condone them threatening the life of the senator for disagreeing with them. That very act went against everything his father had fought and died for.

“How long wil ye be staying?” Dermot broke into To-bin’s thoughts.

“A day or two. I thought I’d show Miss Liberty how to handle her new horse.”

Dermot shook her head. “She won’t ride. I’d bet on it, but ye can try.”

Surprisingly, Tobin wanted to. He couldn’t gure out if he just wanted to show off his horse, or if he wanted to see the lady one more time. The fact that he wanted to linger near anyone other than family forced him to his feet. He thanked Anna for the meal and headed back to the barn.

In the shadows at the side of the house, he paused watching the dancers at the bal .

Music drifted out to him as he stared at a sight unlike he’d ever seen. They al looked like china dol s twirling across marble, no more real or related to his life than the shadow of a rainbow.

Just as he turned to go, he caught a glimpse of Liberty, circling the oor so graceful y she could have been gliding on ice. Tobin couldn’t help but stare. Her pale blue dress looked like it was made of a cloud whirling at her feet and her black hair danced over her shoulders as she turned slightly in the arms of a soldier in ful dress uniform. The picture they made was like something out of a dream.

When the man turned slightly, Tobin recognized the captain. Looking closer, Tobin thought he saw a hardness in Buchanan’s grip, imprisoning, not holding, her. As the couple moved, Tobin saw Liberty’s face and al the beauty of the scene vanished. Her beautiful green eyes held the edge of panic as she stared out as if she were in prison.

Tobin took a step toward the window, then remembered where he was. He couldn’t enter her world. He couldn’t save her. He could only watch. The fences that held her in were the barriers that kept him out.

As the dance ended, he turned away and walked toward the barn. He needed to get out of this place as soon as possible. He’d not stand by and watch her again. She was surrounded by strong men who could save her; she wasn’t likely to turn to a man she’d just met tonight.

He swung open the door to the stal where he’d spread his bedrol and almost col ided with a stranger dressed in black.

“What...” Tobin took a step backward and rested his right hand on the handle of his holstered Colt.

Whoever the man was, he certainly wasn’t an outlaw. The gold chain on his watch shone in the dark, as did the diamond tie tack at his throat. Even for his age, he had a military bearing.

“McMurray?” The man huffed the word as if impatient with being kept waiting.

“That’s right,” Tobin answered. “Who’s asking?”

The man nodded once as if in recognition and said calmly, “A man who might need your help.”

Tobin glanced at his bedrol guring he could probably forget sleep tonight. Somehow he’d picked a spot busier than a train platform to spread his blankets.

“I’l know your name rst.” Tobin hadn’t removed his hand from his gun, but he sensed that he was in no danger.

“Mayeld,” the man said then waited a moment as if letting his name register. “Senator James Mayeld. Your brother Travis saved my life a few years back. We were on the road together several days and he told me of his brothers and of your ranch. I also talked with your other brother, Teagen, less than two weeks ago.”

Tobin saw no point to question the senator’s word.

Mayeld hesitated, then added one more McMurray to his list of friends. “I rode with your father near Goliad. He turned west toward the mission and I rode east hoping to catch up with Sam Houston’s men. Your father thought the battle would be won at Goliad, but I feared we’d need more men and a soldier like Houston to lead us before we faced Santa Anna’s army.”

Again Tobin didn’t question.

“Your father was a good man, son. One of the best I’ve ever known. You and your brothers are cut from the same cloth.”

Tobin didn’t know what to say, but he did lower his hand from the Colt.

The senator’s shoulders relaxed. “Teagen said you’d be the one who could help me.”

Tobin doubted he could do anything Travis or Teagen couldn’t, but the old man had him interested.

“Walk with me,” the senator whispered as he moved out of the stal . “I don’t want anyone accidental y overhearing what I’ve got to say.”

They strol ed as far as the fence line where the moon shone almost as bright as a gas lamp. With no trees within a hundred yards it was unlikely anyone would be close, but when Mayeld turned to Tobin he lowered his voice once more.

“I believe there are men who mean to see me dead.”

Tobin removed his hat. “I’ve heard that’s not unusual, Senator.”

The old man laughed. “You’re right, it’s not. But of late, the threat is so close I can almost smel it, taste it on the tip of my tongue.” His laugh bore no humor. “Maybe I’m turning into an old woman as I age, but I feel I need to take care.

Not for me—I’ve always been able to defend myself—but for my daughter. A blind man could see that if she were hurt or kil ed, I’d be crushed, unable to go on with my duties.

I treasure her dearly.”

“How can I be of service?”

The senator smiled and offered Tobin a cigar as if they were simply talking of the weather. “I need two favors tomorrow. Neither of which I’d like you to discuss with anyone,” he said as he lit his cigar. “First, no matter how she ghts, you’ve got to teach her to ride. I can’t go back to Washington and leave her out here without knowing that she could handle a horse if she needs to. A lady in the cities can do without such a skil , but not out here. Her life might depend on it one day.”

“I’l try,” Tobin answered.

“I’l see that you get the chance. I’l talk to her if I have to, even threaten her if I must, but she
wil
learn.”

“And the second favor?” Tobin asked, thinking that the rst might prove impossible.