Texas Rain

CHAPTER 9

Travis's brothers stayed with him until an hour before sunset. They piled up enough wood for a week and checked several times to make sure everything he needed lay nearby. The bunk was close enough to the fire for. warmth, and all Travis had to do to reach extra wood was to lean behind him.

For a while after they left, he listened to them moving down the mountain. Then all was silent as he watched the sun set. He stood by the fire for a while, but the uneven ground made it dangerous for him to move around. The muscles in his left leg were unsteady, holding his weight one moment and unable to do so the next.

He sat on the bunk and watched the fire as the sky darkened around him. Sleep was the last thing on his mind. He'd missed the outdoors as if it were his home. He'd forgotten how good a campfire smelled in the dusky air and how alive the growing darkness seemed around him.

Travis felt no fear. The only varmint who'd ever worried him had been human, and he'd see none of those here. The fire would keep any wild animals away unless they were mad, then they usually made plenty of noise, allowing him time to aim. He thought of how strange it was that man seemed the only creature who didn't show signs of madness before inflicting needless pain.

He tossed another log on the fire, enjoying the warm display of colors dancing in the flames. Even if he never dreamed, the trip had been well worth it. He felt his spirit healing.

When the stars came out, Travis lay back on the bunk and stretched his leg straight feeling the pain ease. He watched the shadowy smoke drift to heaven and thought of the green-eyed girl he'd danced with weeks ago.

"Where are you?" he mumbled aloud, knowing no one would hear him. "I said I'd find you, and I will."

He could almost feel her body pressed beside him. He couldn't remember what her kiss had tasted like, but the feel of it came back almost as strong as it had that first night. Her mouth had been soft and her bottom lip had trembled slightly.

Travis grumbled. He should have told her not to be afraid. He was so used to people fearing him, he hadn't even thought of saying something. She'd been such a slip of a girl, barely reaching his shoulder. She probably thought he'd snap her in two. In truth, he wasn't sure he'd know how to be gentle with her if she came into his arms. Maybe he would hold her too tightly if he saw her again?

"When," he corrected. When they embraced he'd remember to be careful. He'd touch her so lightly she'd think his hand no more than a breeze against her skin. He wanted to know every part of her. He'd take the time to memorize the feel of her.

Travis turned away from the fire. He needed to stop thinking about her. He was acting like a half-grown pup, mooning over a girl. He'd held plenty of girls in his arms… hundreds. Travis reconsidered. If honest, he'd held very few. A widow crying when he'd had to tell her that her husband died. A few saloon girls who wanted him to feel their wares. A handful of hugs from women who were happy to see a Ranger arrive. Add them all up and he couldn't think of a dozen.

That was it, he thought. How could he have gotten so old with so little time spent around women? Sage didn't count. Neither did Martha.

Maybe the only reason he was thinking about the woman with green eyes was that he had so few others to think about. In his life there had always been a crisis, a Ranger needed somewhere. His job left little time for anything else. Could he be thinking of her now simply because he had the time?

No, that couldn't be right. No woman had ever made him feel the way she did-made him consider things. He'd spent an hour watching the stars and thinking of what he'd say to the fairy woman when he saw her. He might not know much about women, but he knew one thing, she was different.

Since she appeared to be one of the few women in the world who hadn't been too afraid to talk to him, maybe he should go easy on the little horse thief.

Maybe she didn't have good sense. That would explain it.

No, he argued with himself, she had sense enough to steal a horse out from under his nose… twice.

He fell asleep without giving any thought to dreaming. The fresh air, the smell of the fire, the stars above made it seem like he was already dreaming. He could forget about his leg and everything he couldn't do and pretend it was just a normal night sleeping in his favorite place.

Open space would always be his home.

Travis slept soundly with no dream disturbing his rest. Finally, an hour before dawn, the cold woke him. The fire was almost out. He tossed logs on it and watched until a spark caught them, then he pulled the blankets around him and fell back asleep.

The dream settled over him silently almost like a forgotten memory drifts into thought. He was sitting by a fireplace burning bright into the shadows of a room lined with books. He'd propped his left leg up on a stool, and the smell of tea brewing spiced the air. He was aware of everything around him, but it was the book in his lap that fascinated him. He noticed light blinking through the curtains, first pale dawn, then full bright, but he didn't stop reading. An excitement pumped through his blood as if he were in the middle of an outlaw capture or about to find a vital clue to solve a mystery. He didn't look up from the book, not even to watch the sun rise.

Travis shifted and opened one eye. The morning sun blinked bright in his face. He rolled to his side and pushed himself to a sitting position. He could never remember sleeping past dawn in his life. Usually at first light he'd already downed a half pot of coffee.

Staring at the campfire, he wished his brothers had lugged up a pot and coffee. The memory of the odor of tea in his dream came back to him so strong he swore he could almost smell it. Tea. He hated tea. One winter when he still lived at the ranch, they ran out of coffee and Martha tried to make them all drink her tea. The stuff tasted like hot water sweetened with elm bark. He promised himself he'd die of thirst before he ever forced down another cup of the stuff.

Travis rummaged in the bag of food and pulled out a biscuit. Even cold, Martha's biscuits were great, soft and fluffy. He washed it down with water and leaned back to think about his dream.

As near as he could tell it told him nothing about the future, except maybe one day he'd find a book that would keep him up all night. That wasn't all that unusual. Often when he was home he would read all night.

The smell of tea could have been coming from the mixture of green wood he'd burned last night, and the fire in his dream sprang from the campfire a few feet from the bunk.

No magic. Nothing special about the dream. No great message. But it did feel good to think about how his father may have slept on this very spot and thought of the future. Travis was more than ten years older than his father had been when he'd climbed the mountain to dream. He realized how young his father must have been when he died. Only two years older than he was now. He remembered his father as being tall and quiet, almost like Tobin. Andrew McMurray hadn't wanted to leave his family when the war with Mexico started. Trouble had seemed a world away from their ranch. But he'd gone because it was his duty. Andrew had lined his three sons up and hugged each before he left. Maybe he didn't believe his dream would come true, but he must have worried about it or he never would have left the letter telling them what to do.

Travis couldn't shake the dark mood that followed him all day. He used his cane and forced himself to walk around, staying clear of the fire. If he fell he could always crawl back to the bunk and pull up, provided he didn't fall into the fire. But he didn't dream he died burning. He didn't even dream he could walk again, or ride, or go back to his life as a Ranger. He dreamed he was reading.

All his life he'd been a man of action, and now, when he supposedly had one look into his future, he dreamed of a study, which shouldn't surprise him, since he'd spent the past few months sleeping in one.

He'd been a fool to even test the legend. It was just that-a legend, nothing more.

By midafternoon the sky grew cloudy, but Travis didn't smell rain. He wondered if his brothers were worried about him. Sage had probably driven them nuts by now, but he knew Teagen and Tobin wouldn't come unless he fired rounds. They would give him the time he'd asked for.

Before dark, he ate the last of Martha's bread and cheese. He checked his guns out of habit, enjoying the weight of the Colt in his hand. It felt familiar, like the night around him and the fire. He could almost believe for a time that he was whole and the world was right once more.

He leaned back waiting to fall asleep. If he were to glimpse the future, it better come tonight. As he drifted, he thought of how the wind always chilled his face when he rode hard.

When the dream came, it was almost the same, only this time he was standing. He held a book in one hand. Big, heavy, black-like a family Bible.

Fear cut off his breathing. His mind kept racing, saying over and over again, "One chance, one chance." He tried to look around the room, needing to see someone. Needing it so badly he felt like he would have given his life for one view.

One chance, he thought. One chance. His heart pounded in his ears as need and longing mixed with fear.

He could hear movement, like rats circling in a dark cellar. He tried to see, but smoke whispered through his dream, blocking his view. He had the sense that time was running out.

Forcing air from his lungs, he took action. In one swift move he opened the Bible, reached for the gun inside, and fired. The blast echoed off the walls as the Bible hit the floor.

Travis woke with a jerk. For a moment he didn't know where he was. The dream seemed so real. The room of smoke, the Bible, the gun in his hand.

He closed his eyes and tried to shove it all from his mind. A nightmare. Nothing more, he told himself.

But the dream still haunted him as his brothers carried him down the mountain a few hours later. He'd told them of his first dream, but couldn't bring himself to mention the second.

He'd forget it, he decided. In the legend a man only gets one dream. The second one didn't count. He'd shove the nightmare from his mind and never think of it again.

Only when he was back in the study and night came, he fought sleep, not wanting to see any part of his vision again. He never wanted to feel as if he were trapped, as if his entire life balanced on one shot from a gun hidden inside a Bible.

Finally peace settled in, and when he dreamed back in his bed at the ranch house, he dreamed of dancing with a woman with green eyes.