To Kiss a Texan

FIFTEEN

JUST BEFORE NIGHTFALL, WES AND HIS SMALL BANDreached a little town deep in the hill country called New Braunfels. They were traveling farther south, where winter didn’t settle so harshly across the land. This area of Texas was thick with German settlements, New Braunfels being one of the first. Though many of the Germans had settled the land two generations ago, in the 1830s, they’d kept to themselves with hard-working ways and little interest in learning English. Their love for the new land seemed great, but old ways clung to them like comfortable clothes.

Wes rode silently through the sleepy little town. Unlike many settlements its size, New Braunfels was clean, with wide streets and spotless storefronts. The churches, schools, and barbershops were already here.

As they reached the far end of town and headed out, Wes turned and whispered to Allie, ‘‘I know a place we can stay tonight since you hate hotels.’’

She nodded and eased her grip around his waist.

Wes patted her arm, understanding her if not her reasons. ‘‘During the war, there were many families in Texas loyal to the Union.’’ He’d also noticed she seemed to relax when he talked, so he started his story in a low voice. ‘‘Most didn’t say much about it, just went about their business. But one farmer, whose place was not far from town, let his feelings be known when Texas left the Union. One night, late into the war when most everyone had lost a son or father to the fighting, a band of men descended on his place. As folks tell the story, the farmer and his sons had just sat down to supper and met the mob without a single gun in hand.’’

Wes paused, picking his way down an overgrown road no one traveled. ‘‘The band demanded the farmer and his sons come outside. Then in front of the women and children, they hanged the men from the barn rafters. As they rode off, they set fire to the barn.

‘‘No one did anything about the crime. The farmer’s youngest son to die was thirteen. Folks didn’t talk about it much at the time, some probably from fear, some from guilt. It was just something that happened in war, and there was nothing to be done.’’

Allie leaned her cheek against Wes’s back. While she’d been living alone in her cave all those years, the world must have gone mad. She wished she could go back to her hideaway. People made no sense.

Wes turned toward the sunset. Along the outline of gold, she could see the remains of an old, burned barn beside an abandoned farmhouse.

‘‘The farmer’s wife took her youngest children and her widowed daughters-in-law and left here. No one wants to buy the place. Not after what happened. But we can stay the night there.’’

He headed toward the house. The grassland had almost reclaimed the road, and ivy lapped over the fences. ‘‘The locals are half afraid of this place. They say it’s haunted. But if it is, I don’t figure the ghost will bother us.’’ He turned to wink at her. ‘‘After all, they were Northern sympathizers.’’

Allie didn’t join in his mirth. She felt like she was trespassing on a burial ground and the spirits would not be pleased. She could almost hear them whispering in the evening breeze, telling her to leave, pushing her from their home, warning her.

Wes helped her down from the saddle and headed into the house with their supplies over one shoulder.

‘‘Wait,’’ Allie called after him. ‘‘I’ll not stay in their home.’’

He turned around and walked back to the edge of a crumbling porch. ‘‘It’s safe enough. I’ll light a fire and chase any critters out.’’

‘‘No.’’ Allie stood her ground. ‘‘I’ll not go in.’’ ‘‘

‘Me, neither.’’ Jason slid from his horse. ‘‘If Allie ain’t going in, I’m not going in.’’

Wes glanced skyward. How was it possible for his near mute wife to pick up an echo? After four years in the Army, leading men, and two years of pushing cattle to market, it took Allie to make Wes realize that a leader wasn’t a leader unless he had a follower.

‘‘All right, where would you like to sleep tonight?’’ She was developing a habit of being particular about where she slept.

Allie didn’t answer, she just turned toward the skeleton of the barn. In one corner, near a charred wall several feet high, a willow had grown. Maybe it had been a sapling when the tragedy happened. Maybe it had sprung from the fertile soil of the ashes, but it stood tall and proud now. The charred wall protected it from the north wind, and the morning sun warmed it. The long, thin branches were almost touching the ground.

She spread her blanket beneath the low limbs of the willow.

Wes stepped off the porch beside Jason. ‘‘Looks like we’re sleeping beneath the tree. Want to help me with the horses before we settle in for the night?’’

‘‘Sure.’’ Jason patted the bay as though they were old and dear friends. ‘‘Has this horse got a name?’’

‘‘Not that I know of.’’ Wes grinned as he removed the saddle and left it beneath the tree. ‘‘My dad used to say a horse shouldn’t have a name until it belongs to one man for good. Since it looks like he’s your horse, I figure you should name him.’’

Jason followed Wes’s actions, needing only a little help lifting the saddle down. ‘‘He ain’t my horse, mister.’’

‘‘He is now.’’ Wes started toward a stream behind the house. ‘‘You’ll earn him by helping me take care of Allie. And I can tell by the way he responds to your lead that the two of you are made for one another.’’

Jason walked several feet before he answered. ‘‘I’ll name him when I earn him,’’ the boy said with a single nod.

A half hour later, Wes returned. He had staked the horses and taken the time to shave by the water. Jason had managed to find a hatful of nuts and took them back to Allie.

Wes pushed the thin branches away and stepped into nature’s tiny room beneath the tree. Handing Allie the canteen, he fished in his bag for the last apple and jerky. He gave the apple to Jason, broke the jerky in thirds, and sat down cross-legged to begin cracking nuts.

‘‘Not much supper tonight, folks. I thought we’d be eating with your grandmother. But we’ve enough.’’

Jason was so tired Wes had to force him to stay awake long enough to eat the apple. ‘‘What is it they say? It’s not the food, it’s the company that counts.’’

He laughed to himself as Allie stretched and laid her head on his knee. ‘‘I must be a great conversationalist. I’m putting everyone to sleep.’’

‘‘Ghosts are in the house,’’ Allie whispered. ‘‘We shouldn’t bother them.’’ She closed her eyes. ‘‘Or the ghost at Goliad where you go to search for gold.’’

‘‘I’m not afraid of ghosts.’’ Wes patted her shoulder, enjoying the fact she’d finally lost her fear of him. All day, she’d been close and not once had she pulled away. Once, he’d laced his fingers through hers. He’d thought such an action would feel foolish, but, surprisingly, it felt good. He liked the feel of her holding to him as they rode.

Before he finished half the nuts, Jason and Allie were both dreaming. Wes sat in the darkness. There was no need to light a fire; any wind was blocked by the barn wall. Jason would be warm curled in his blanket, and Wes would eventually slide down beside Allie to keep her from being cold.

Wes had too much on his mind to sleep. He needed time to think. He’d planned to look for the treasure alone. One lone man would cause no talk riding into the abandoned mission. He figured he could study the map and be in and out in a day or two at the most. But now there were Allie and Jason. A man could live off the land, eat when he had to, ride hard, and sleep only when exhausted. But a woman and boy were something else entirely.

Wes took a long drink of the water in the canteen, wishing it were whiskey. He didn’t regret what he’d done this morning. Allie couldn’t have stayed with Victoria. It didn’t matter that everyone in the world could see they were kin, Victoria would believe her sister. For some reason, Katherine didn’t want Allie to be alive. Maybe she was just protecting her sister from what she thought were fortune hunters. Who knows how many others over the years had claimed to be Victoria’s grandchild?

The chipped china came to mind. Wes wondered how much of a fortune could be left. Perhaps Victoria was growing poor in her old age, or maybe Katherine saw no need to spend money on what her sister could no longer see.

Wes brushed his hand lightly over Allie’s hair. She could go with him; he’d take his chances with her tailing along. Anything was better than the thought of her being yelled at by Katherine.

Wes leaned back against his saddle. For a little while he’d forget about the map and head back to his place outside Denton. He could round up enough strays to feed them through the winter, and his dugout might not be a headquarters, but it was plenty big for three people. Maybe he could catch and break a few wild horses for the Army for extra money. By the end of winter, he could hire on for a cattle drive and make enough to start a herd next fall.

Rubbing his forehead, Wes pushed away the dream. Who was he kidding? Allie wasn’t interested in staying with him. The only reason she was with him was that being near him was safer at the moment. The minute she got the chance, she’d take off to parts unknown. He could feel it. And he’d never been a man who just got by. He’d made a name for himself in the war by always gambling big with life. He couldn’t settle down and scratch out a living. The treasure was a hand he had to play. The last card he’d been dealt. If it cost him his life, he’d go out with a dream and not some plan to scrape by. Allie wasn’t his, and neither was Jason.

Wes slept little. Thoughts kept stampeding through his mind. He wanted to make it big. He needed to prove he could to everyone. Not for the money or power, but for the satisfaction. His younger brothers had found their niches in life. Adam was a doctor; Daniel, a preacher. Wes had to prove he could be more than a soldier.

Toward dawn, when the earth was so still nothing moved, Wes decided Allie was somehow a part of his destiny. She might not stay with him, she might never care for him, but she was a part of him, woven so deeply into the fabric of his life that she’d never be far from his thoughts even if she left. He cared for her.

He watched first light crawling across the horizon, hesitating in the early fog. At first, the riders coming from town seemed like part of the passing shadows, but as they neared, he heard the horses’ hooves and picked out the four horsemen slicing the distance between town and the willow.

Wes shifted slightly, pulling his rifle from where it had been propped against his saddle. His movement awoke Allie. She sat up, sensing danger.

He raised his weapon to his shoulder and waited. There was a good chance the men would pass. Even if they stopped, the light wasn’t good enough to see beneath the willow. Wes didn’t bother to motion for Allie to remain silent. He knew she would.

The men rode directly toward the house as though on a mission. They looked hard and too heavily armed to be farmers. When they reached the porch, one jumped from his saddle and kicked the front door open, his gun drawn.

‘‘It’s dark!’’ he yelled. ‘‘But no one’s in there. Squirrels ran in every direction.’’

A wiry man twisted in his saddle. ‘‘We’ll keep going. They couldn’t be far. A fellow said he saw the three pass through town just before dark last night. If we were after one man, he might have covered more ground, but the woman and the boy will slow him down. He can’t be far ahead of us.’’

Wes fought the urge to fire. These men were looking for him and, from the hurry they were in, they hadn’t come to help. The wiry man reminded Wes of a tree that had been twisted early on and hadn’t grown straight. He patted his handgun as if it were a pet at his side.

The man off his mount walked to the edge of the porch. ‘‘There’s a farm about three miles down that takes in travelers. They may have stayed there for the night.’’

The leader grunted. ‘‘Or a hundred other places along the streams and rivers. But don’t worry, we’ll find them if we have to comb every mile of this land.’’

Wes’s fingers tightened slightly on the trigger. These men were after him, there was no doubt. But why? For the map? For Allie? Or, who knows, Angela Montago was so mad at him, she might have hired them to see that he never bothered her again. Wes could even think of a few men from the war who hated him enough to track him.

As the men rode away, Wes frowned. That was his problem-he’d made too many enemies and not enough friends. When a man has several reasons to choose from why a band of no-goods might be chasing him, maybe it’s time to mend his ways.

Wes was a good enough judge of people to know that the four riders were not trained trackers. They would have seen signs, even in the poor light, that would have pointed directly to the willow. And there was something not quite professional about them. They were not hired guns.

Allie watched Wes closely. He’d been prepared to kill the men if they’d come too near, but she wasn’t sure why.

He’d saved her again, that was all that mattered. She owed him now. And honor demanded she pay him back. All she had were the pelts in the cave. Somehow, she’d get to them and give him half her wealth. It was the only fair thing to do.

But they’d ridden over country she’d never seen. Not even all the moving around she’d done when she’d been passed from tribe to tribe helped her now. Allie wasn’t sure where to start to head for home. If she were alone, she might not be able to find her way back to Fort Worth. From there, she knew the direction. But here, this land was different. She wasn’t sure.

‘‘Good morning.’’ He pushed her hair back from her face.

How easily she’d gotten used to his nearness. ‘‘Good morning,’’ she answered, feeling the words on her tongue so early in the morning. ‘‘Who were those men?’’

‘‘I’m not sure, but I’m guessing they were looking for us and that they were probably men we don’t want to meet.’’

Jason slowly turned toward them. His wide eyes told Allie he hadn’t been asleep for a while and had seen the riders.

‘‘I know who that was.’’ Jason raised slowly. ‘‘That was the meanest man I ever met. I saw him kill a dog with his hands once just because he made a bet that he could.’’

‘‘Who?’’ Wes asked.

The boy looked down as if afraid even to say the name. ‘‘Michael Catlin,’’ Jason whispered. ‘‘I’m sorry about speaking bad of your kin, Allie.’’

Allie felt Wes stiffen beside her. Somehow this trouble was her doing. Catlin was looking for her, she knew it. And he’d kill anyone in his path to get to her. She’d found her family. And they not only didn’t want her… they wanted her dead.

‘‘What will we do?’’ she asked, already knowing what she would have to do. She must get away from Wes and Jason as fast as she could so that they would be safe. Catlin had no reason to chase them. He wanted her.

‘‘We’ll go back to town,’’ Wes answered calmly. ‘‘It’s time to send a few telegrams. I could have you on the next stage to Adam’s place if you like.’’

‘‘No.’’ Allie wanted to run, but not back to Nichole and Adam. That might put them in danger. ‘‘I stay with you, or I go on my own.’’

Wes stood and pulled her from the branches into the morning sun so that he could read her expression. ‘‘Then stay with me, Allie. Promise. I can see the look in your eyes. There will be no running. If I found you when you ran, they might find you. Promise you’ll stay with me until it’s safe.’’

Allie didn’t turn away this time when he stared into her eyes. She knew what he was saying. He was telling her that he’d stand and fight for her. No one had ever done that. Somehow, this strange man had everything backward in the world. Somehow, he thought she was worth fighting for. Maybe even dying for.

‘‘I’ll stay.’’ She knew it would be a promise hard to keep.