Barbara Baldwin
Prologue
Camino, Texas, 1870
“You can’t take my kin,” Joe
shouted, struggling against the deputy who had pinned his arms behind his back.
His sister, Mary Elizabeth, was crying. Seth, his five-year old brother,
jiggled baby Jessica in his arms, trying to quiet her. The two-year-old twins
stood silent as statues, each with a thumb in his mouth as they were wont to do
when they were troubled.
“Sheriff, they don’t understand. What’s
it hurt if we stay here on the farm and fend for ourselves?” He had been asking
the same question ever since they buried Pa, and the sheriff made it clear that homes would be found for Joe
and the others.
Joe felt he was man enough to
take care of them. At fifteen, he had been fending for his brothers and sisters
pretty near a year, anyway. His pa did more drinking than working and Rebecca,
his step-ma, was too sick with child to do much of anything.
“Joe, you ain’t got the know-how
to take care of these little ones,” the sheriff answered. “Times are tough and
there ain’t nobody going to take in five young’uns. ’Sides, your pa owed money
to just about everyone in town and the bank owns this farm.”
The sheriff was right. Rebecca died a month ago giving birth
to little Jessica. Then their pa, damn his hide, got drunk once too often and
fell down a ravine and killed himself.
“Tomorrow morning Preacher Burke is going to take y’all up to
the mission orphanage at San Antonio.” The sheriff looked at Joe with pity,
which only made him angrier.
Joe stiffened his spine. Eyes burning, his gaze flickered
over the freshly turned graves under the gnarled mesquite tree. He hadn’t cried
when pa died and he wasn’t about to do it now in front of the sheriff.
“Tell you what,” the sheriff said. “Seeing as how I’m a
family man myself, I’m going to let you say your good-byes. Get on into the
house and do what you gotta do.”
Joe herded the little ones toward the house. The door slammed
behind him. He looked at his brothers’ and sister’s stricken faces in the dim
light from the only window. How could he keep them all together?
The only way he could be any good to them at all was if he
were free. He’d follow the preacher and ambush him along the route—far enough
away from Camino that the sheriff wouldn’t come looking for them.
He gathered supplies, rolling them up in a bedroll and tying
it with a section of rope. Taking a tin from the top shelf, where he always
kept it hid from his pa, he dumped the contents onto the table where the young’uns
sat staring, wide-eyed. Two silver dollars spilled out, along with six silver conchos
Rebecca once used as buttons on a dress. She had cut them off one day, telling
Joe to trade them for food if need be.
Raw anger welled up inside him. When Rebecca was alive, she
repeatedly told them to respect their pa. Joe had tried, even if he didn’t much
deserve it. But what kind of sonofabitch would leave…? He bit back an oath as
he looked at the faces watching him.
What would become of them? How could he leave them even for a
short time?
Yet how could he help them if he didn’t?
He stuffed the money in his pocket before sitting down at the
table. Taking the knife he had hidden in his boot, he cut six short lengths of
sinew, slid a concho onto each, then tied the ends together. Still, the
children watched without saying a word.
He placed a sinew necklace around Mary Elizabeth’s neck and
then one on baby Jessica, where he shortened the sinew so it wouldn’t slip off.
He whispered to Mary Elizabeth, “Try to stay with the baby.”
“Joey.” She began to cry. Mary Elizabeth was small for eight years
old, hardly more than a baby herself. Joe held her tight, feeling much older
than his fifteen years.
“Shh, I gotta do this. I’ll find you down the road a piece.”
He kissed her forehead and slid a finger down the baby’s soft cheek, hoping
never to forget how that innocence felt.
He knelt on the floor and gathered Seth, Michael and Matthew
to him. “You boys mind your sister, now.” He slid a necklace over each of the
boys’ heads. The twins didn’t understand the gravity of the situation and
grinned as they studied the shiny engraved concho at the end of the sinew. Joe
closed each little hand around the silver, clasping them in his big ones, his
eyes on Seth as he spoke.
“Never take these
off. They’re talismans that will protect each of you until I can find you and
we can be a family again.” He took the last necklace and slid it over his own
head, dropping the concho inside his shirt.
“I promise,” he whispered as he slipped out the back of the
cabin.
He hadn’t gone more than twenty feet before a hand grabbed him.
“Where you think you’re going?” One of the deputies jerked
him around.
All of Joe’s pent up frustration poured forth as he swung a
fist at the man. He only got in one punch before he found himself flat on his
back in the dirt, the deputy looming over him, revolver in hand.
“Week or so in jail will cool that temper of yours, boy.” The
deputy hauled him roughly to his feet, twisting his arm cruelly behind his
back.
Joe’s heart plummeted. Just like his own ma and Rebecca and
Pa, he had failed to protect what was his.
Chapter One
West Texas, 1877
Sky stood on the porch of the
Double T ranch house, shaking her head as heat waves rippled upward from the
landscape. The sky was brilliant blue, not a cloud in sight, particularly not
any that might contain rain. It was only early spring, but it was hotter than hell,
according to Patch. While she might not repeat the cuss word out loud, she most
assuredly agreed with the old bunkhouse cook. Even the adobe walls of the ranch
house didn’t do much to keep the afternoon sun from baking the air to just
below stifling. She had come outside hoping for a breath of breeze, but there
was none.
She had overheard William Cazneau
from the Circle C ranch say that if this drought didn’t end soon, he’d be thinking
of selling out. There had always been water available to the ranches because
they bordered the Rio Grande, but the Double T was fortunate that several smaller
creeks cut diagonally through the vast ranch. That didn’t mean the several
thousand head of cattle her daddy owned could survive if they didn’t get rain
soon.
Besides, with no rain to fill the
slowly shrinking creeks, there also would be no grass for grazing. She had
lived in West Texas all her life, and couldn’t remember it ever being this bad.
She lifted her gaze to heaven in prayer when a movement caught her eye.
Shading her eyes against the
bright Texas sun, she watched a lone rider canter up the lane. As he drew
closer, she suddenly recognized the black attire, broken only by a brightly colored
bandana around his neck. Not a day had gone by in the past three years when she
hadn’t thought of him. She knew the set of those shoulders, though they
appeared wider than she remembered.
Joe Dawson.
No matter how long he had been
gone, her heart still pounded and her stomach clutched like it had the very day
he left. Her blood rushed to warm her cheeks and hands.
Hands that wanted to caress him…and
strangle him.
The hand on her forehead trembled.
From the day Joe first set foot on the ranch, he had done this to her. He created
an upheaval of her emotions when she didn’t even understood what the rapid
heartbeat, sweaty palms and ringing ears meant. By the time she did understand
and want to explore those emotions, Joe left without a word.
Now, two days before her twentieth
birthday, he came riding back to the Double T, big as you please. Actually, Sky
revised that opinion as he rode closer. He looked much, much larger than life.
“Howdy, ma’am.” The slow drawl
rippled across her like heat waves on the baked, West Texas plains. The sun at
his back created a halo, leaving his face shadowed beneath the broad Stetson he
tugged in greeting.
Sky gasped. The voice was deeper,
stronger, but she couldn’t mistake the shiver that ran down her spine at
hearing it.
“Is your husband around?”
He didn’t recognize her. Now that
made Sky downright mad. It didn’t matter that she had changed dramatically in
the time he had been gone; that she had finally grown into her long legs and had
filled out considerably. She had never forgotten him. The least he could do was
remember her.
She decided not to tell him for
the moment. Instead, she put her hands on her narrow hips, her breeches clad
legs spread in a determined stance.
“Who is it you wish to see?” She
spoke in an icy voice, dripping disdain as she glared at him from beneath the
hat that shaded her face. Even if he couldn’t see her expression, she felt
better. His eyes narrowed.
“Cooper Tate.” He took off his
hat and ran a hand through his hair.
Sky almost lost her composure.
Hair, black as midnight, fell in unruly waves across his forehead and over his
ears. A dark shadow of a beard gave him a dangerous look. Even though she couldn’t
see them clearly, she easily remembered silver gray eyes full of mystery.
Sky straightened her shoulders
but didn’t trust her voice to speak. She wasn’t about to let him know he still
affected her. She nodded to the right, indicating her daddy was around the back
of the house.
Joe reined away from the porch,
wondering at Miss Tianna’s attitude. When he worked for Coop before, his wife had
been reserved but cordial until she got to know a body. And regardless, she
always displayed the hospitality for which Texas was famous. Just now, she had
been downright rude. Letting his horse plod around the side of the house, he
lifted his hat and wiped a sleeve across his sweaty brow. It came away wet and
dirty. It was no wonder Miss Tianna didn’t acknowledge him with more than a
nod. He looked like a drifter and no doubt smelled worse.
Kneeing Critter in the side, he
turned towards the corral where he saw activity. He drew along the fence and
swung a leg across the neck of his horse, hooking his knee over the saddle
horn. Several hands sat along the railing. A couple of men were on the ground
inside the corral with coils of rope and one sat atop a bronc that was determined
not to give up without a fight.
“Doesn’t look like you’ve
improved any,” he yelled, laughing as the cowboy flew by on the snorting horse.
Seconds later, the man was tossed from the back of the sorrel and landed in the
dirt. He got slowly to his feet, bent to pick up his hat and slapped it against
his thigh, all the while looking around the corral.
Joe grinned when the man’s eyes
lit on him.
“Damn, you broke my
concentration,” Cooper Tate hooted as he ambled over, his rolling gait speaking
of long years in a saddle. “Hell, boy, I thought some outlaw got you for sure!”
Light blue eyes looked him over from head to toe.
“No, sir,” Joe said with a
chuckle.
“Come on up to the house.” Coop
climbed the fence like a man half his age and hopped to the other side. “Matt,
take care of his horse.”
“I prefer doing that myself,” Joe
interrupted.
Coop shrugged. “Suit yourself,
but I’ll be one cool drink ahead of you.”
Joe laughed. “You always were,
sir.”
“What’s this sir, bullshit? I’m not the law or the local minister.”
Joe just shook his head. Some
things never changed. “I’ll meet you at the house.”
He took his time unsaddling
Critter, rubbing him down and giving him an extra ration of oats. He went over
in his mind what he would say to Cooper Tate now that he was here. He hadn’t
thought about where he would end up when he left San Antonio, other than it
wouldn’t be back to the dirt farm of his youth. The Double T was the only home
he cared to remember. Coop had taken him in, taught him well, and gave him a
second chance. Joe guessed he really shouldn’t have been surprised when he
headed for the only family he had at the moment.
* * *
Coop hollered at Bonita before
entering the house to tell her to ready a guest room and set an extra place for
supper. He washed the dust off at the water bucket on the back porch, wondering
why Joe had returned. He had been the son Coop never had, and seeing him again
brought back a lot of memories.
Seven years ago, Bonita found a
skinny, scraggly boy trying to steal a loaf of bread off the kitchen
windowsill. When Coop confronted the boy, he saw something in the youngster’s
eyes that wrenched his heart—loss and hopelessness. He was hungry, mistrustful
and as full of anger as a bear woken up in the middle of winter, and wouldn’t
tell Coop more than his name. Even so, Coop put the youngster to work instead
of turning him over to the sheriff.
His wife, Tianna, had tried to
teach the boy to read and do figures but for the most part he worked with the
men and slept in the bunkhouse. Regular meals and hard work quickly filled out
Joe’s slight frame and turned skin and bones into muscle and brawn. Never once
did he take advantage, and in most cases he worked twice as hard, as though trying
to prove something. Joe Dawson turned out to be something else, taking to
ranching like a duck took to water.
It took two years after he first
got to the ranch before Joe trusted Coop enough to tell him a little about his
life. Two years after that, Joe said he was joining the Texas Rangers to
protect Texas and bring peace to the frontier. Coop thought it more likely Joe
would use the badge to hunt for his brothers and sisters, stolen from him years
before.
Coop shook his gray head. That
boy had gone through some kind of hell growing up, and Coop was sure he didn’t
know the half of it. He poured himself a drink in the study, then poured
another when he heard Bonita squeal. Joe must have come in the back way.
He turned to the door, then
laughed. Joe was biting into a hunk of bread smeared with blackberry jam. The
smile on the boy’s face almost had Coop overlooking the severe limp that
hampered his walk. He handed him a drink, then waved him over to a chair by the
hearth, not missing the way he grimaced when he sat down.
“Didn’t take you long to find
your way to the kitchen.”
“Bonita always did have the best
bread and jam in Texas.”
“From the sounds of things, she
didn’t mind giving you any of it, either.”
Coop settled into the other big
leather chair, feeling every one of his fifty-six years. He couldn’t prevent
the groan as his knees cracked.
“You’re too old to be busting
broncs,” Joe said, a frown dipping his dark brows as he licked the last of the
jam off his thumb.
Coop opened his mouth to tell him
he’d better mind his manners, but realized when he met Joe’s gaze that the boy had
become a man. Oh, he had the same features, like those gray eyes that sparked
with keen intelligence that had allowed Joe to soak up learning faster than the
parched ground during a summer storm. But he had filled out his tall frame and
the boyish face was now chiseled into hard angles by the wind and weather, not
to mention the years that had gone by.
“Sky would have hollered at me
good if she’d seen me on that bronc, so don’t you be telling on me. But hell, I
can’t let the boys have all the fun.”
“Sky? I haven’t seen her, though
I did see Miss Tianna on the porch when I rode up.”
A frown crossed the man’s face. “My
Tia died almost three years ago, Joe, close after you left.”
Joe remembered the petite,
soft-spoken woman who was the complete opposite of Cooper Tate. Though she had
tried to teach Sky and him numbers and reading and manners, she just as readily
laughed at their antics. A sense of loss pricked his heart, but he quickly
tamped it down. He couldn’t spend his life grieving for losses and what might
have been in circumstances he couldn’t control. He had enough of his own
worries.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Coop,”
he said out loud, knowing he needed to say something. “But then, who was…?” He
let the sentence die, unable to believe the beautiful woman he had seen earlier
was once the scab-kneed girl with braids who always trailed after him. He was
sure the surprise was evident in his voice as he said, “She’s the spitting image
of Miss Tianna.”
Coop nodded. “Yes, she is. If
only she had her mother’s sweet, gentle nature.”
Joe laughed. “She never did
cotton to taking orders, as I recall.”
“Some things never change, son,
but some things do. I never thought to see you back at the Double T. You always
had your eyes on the horizon,” Coop said, then took a sip of whiskey. “What
happened to your leg?”
Joe shrugged, trying to make
light of the wound that had nearly cost him his life. “A stray bullet.”
Coop said nothing but continued to
stare and frown. Joe squirmed, knowing he wanted the whole story.
“You ever hear of the Horrell
brothers?”
“Hell, yes. They’ve been making
trouble since ’72. Didn’t they get to feuding with Pink Higgins?”
Joe nodded. “All they do is feud with Higgins. If it were up to
my captain, he’d just let them shoot it out and kill each other off, but every
time there’s a gun fight, the law is obliged to step in.”
“And you stepped in at the wrong
time?” Coop nodded in understanding. “Can’t see why there’s got to be some damn
range war when Texas itself is big enough for anybody that wants to work hard.
Hell, there’s more country in these United States now than there are people to
get it all settled.”
“That may very well be, but some people aren’t
happy unless they’re fighting,” Joe added.
“How long ago did this happen?”
Coop asked, nodding to indicate Joe’s injury.
“Four months, give or take. I’ve
been recouping in San Antonio, but Captain Armstrong decided to retire me.” Joe
was sure Coop could hear the bitterness in his voice. Being a Texas Ranger had
given his life purpose, and he didn’t know if he was ready to give that up. “Anyway,
I’m looking for work while this leg heals.”
“You’re welcome to do your
recouping here,” Coop said. “It’d heal faster if you stayed off it.”
“Yeah, well, you know I can’t do
that, Coop.” Joe had quit taking Coop’s charity years ago. He wouldn’t accept
his hospitality if he didn’t work for his keep.
Coop shrugged. “All right, if you
want to be stubborn. Paul has been wanting to step down as foreman. Claims he’s
too old to be roping and branding.” He snorted. “Hell, he’s not any older than
me.”
Joe shook his head at the offer. “I’ll
start wrangling.”
“Like hell,” Coop muttered,
slapping his free hand on the wide arm of his chair. “I trained you to take
over this ranch, Joe, whether you realized it or not. I always thought…well,
never mind what I thought. If you want a job, the only one available is
foreman. Take it or leave it.”
Joe had to grin. Cooper Tate hadn’t
changed a whit over the years, still crusty and hell-bent on having his own
way. No wonder his daughter was so stubborn. “I’ll take it on one condition.”
At Coop’s nod, he continued, “I have to be able to take off if I get word about….”
Even after so long, he had a hard time talking about his lost brothers and
sisters.
“You got it,” Coop interrupted,
reading his mind and agreeing without hesitation.
Joe blew his breath out in a
sigh. “I’ll put my stuff out in the bunkhouse.”
“You can stay right here. Paul
and Bonita have the foreman’s house and Sky and I just rattle around in here.
Bonita’s already opened a room for you down the hall.”
* * *
Sky started to enter her daddy’s
study when she overheard their conversation. She stopped, not too proud to
eavesdrop, as she had always wondered about Joe’s background. Now she scuttled
down the hall as fast as she could without letting her boot heels touch the
hardwood floors. So, Joe was going to work for her daddy. She wondered what
Daddy meant about him taking over the ranch. Being his only heir, the Double T
would be hers someday and no two-bit cowboy, even one with smoky gray eyes that
could turn her inside out, was going to prevent that.
She slammed out the back door of
the kitchen and ran to the barn. Not bothering with a saddle, she swung up on
Stormy and galloped out of the yard. She didn’t think of anything except the
wind on her face until she got to the pond. She dropped the reins, letting her
horse drink as she jerked off her boots, shimmied her pants down her hips and
tugged her shirt over her head.
The pond was small and edged by mesquite
trees, which helped create a secluded bathing pool. Two steps into the water
and she dove, holding her breath as long as she could and coming up in the
middle of the cool, clear water. She treaded water, turning her face to the hot
sun. Only then did she try to make sense of her jumbled emotions as she thought
back over the years when Joe had been part of life at the ranch.
Sky was an only child, and as
much as she loved her parents and the other cowboys on the ranch, she always longed
for a brother or sister. Joe arrived when she was thirteen and she viewed him
as her own personal companion, especially when her parents allowed him to take
lessons with her. She often coerced him into leaving his chores, becoming her reluctant
conspirator in escapades around the ranch.
By fourteen, though, her feelings
subtly changed. His compelling gray eyes, full of laughter one minute and pain
the next, tugged at her tender heart. He was handsome and strong but seemed so
alone. She never could comprehend why he’d ride off for days at a time,
preferring the loneliness of the land to her company. Her daddy wouldn’t tell
her where he came from and Mama wouldn’t say why Daddy favored him over the
other ranch hands.
At fifteen, she was hopelessly in
love. Her heart did funny little flip-flops whenever he smiled at her. One day
they even experimented with kissing in the barn, but he ended up telling her
she didn’t know anything and he wasn’t going to waste time on a girl.
“Well, I’ve grown up since then,
Joe Dawson, and I know a whole lot more,” she muttered. Granted, her experience
with men was limited, but she had been kissed and the ones doing it must have
liked it. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have tried to get her shirt out of her pants.
She never allowed things to go too far
and often wondered why. Now, she began to suspect the reason.
Floating on her back, she tried
to imagine what it would be like kissing Joe now. Heat coiled low in her belly
at the thought. Something about him had always drawn her, but now that she’d
seen the man he’d become, Sky knew she wanted more than a kiss from Joe Dawson.
Lordy, I still love him, she thought,
even when she told herself over and over she didn’t after he left the ranch
without a word.
“Skyla Tate, you still haven’t
learned a whit of restraint, have you?”
Sky jackknifed in the water at
the sound of his voice and immediately went under. She came up sputtering to
his laughter.
“Joe Dawson, you should be
ashamed, sneaking around a lady’s bath.” Her cheeks burned with heat that he
might have seen her naked. That heat quickly shot throughout her body and Sky
knew it wasn’t embarrassment.
“A lady wouldn’t be taking a bath
in a pond, now would she?”
She watched as he bent over, pulled
a long stem of grass from the edge of the bank and put it between his teeth. He
stood, legs spread, towering tall and solid against a backdrop of blue Texas
sky.
He had taken his hat off and the
breeze tossed his black hair across his forehead and along his shirt collar. All
Sky could think about was running her fingers through it. His broad shoulders
more than filled out the shirt he wore and she imagined the muscles that
stretched across his chest and down that flat stomach.
“You could come swimming with me.”
She surprised them both by suggesting.
Joe ran a hand through his hair
as a stab of heat sliced straight to his groin.
“I don’t think so.” He managed a
strangled-sounding chuckle.
“We used to go swimming together.
Remember those hot summer days?” Sky swam toward him, taunting him all the way.
Where had she learned to talk in such a silky, seductive tone?
It definitely wasn’t swimming
naked, Joe thought, remembering their half-clothed romps during what seemed
like a lifetime ago. “That was before I knew what girls were.”
“Oh, I think you always knew.”
She was right. Orphaned and on
his own at fifteen, he had been befriended by women everywhere he went. But Sky
had always been just a pal—the freckle-faced little girl who trailed after him,
studied with him, got him in trouble with her pa. She now wore her curly hair short
instead of in long braids, and it was hard to believe that same little girl was
swimming toward him, all grown up.
Suddenly Sky stood in the waist
high water and Joe’s breath hissed through his teeth. He snapped his eyes shut
on a groan, but not before he got a tantalizing glimpse of creamy skin and
luscious breasts, their crests peaked from the cool water. He had seen hunger
in the dark look of her eyes, apparent even from this distance. He turned his back
and heard the water splash behind him as she came up the bank.
Joe couldn’t let himself think of
her in any way other than his boss’s daughter. If he did, he’d be kicked off
the Double T faster than a rattler could strike.
“I’m heading back to the house, Sky.
You get yourself dressed and get home. Bonita will skin you if you’re late for
supper.” He reverted to the bullying tactics that had worked years before.
“You don’t have to threaten me,
Joe Dawson.” Anger sparked in her voice and something else—hurt? “I’m not a
little girl anymore.”
“Honey, I had that one figured
out all by myself,” he muttered, vaulting onto Critter’s back and running away
as fast as he could.
Chapter Two
Sky dressed with care for supper
that night. She told herself it was because her mother had always insisted they
come to the table properly attired, and she and her father tried to carry on
that tradition. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling, still missing her
mother even after all this time.
She scrutinized her reflection in
the mirror, forking her fingers through her short curly hair, suddenly wishing
it was long and straight and that the freckles spotting her nose were not so
prominent, and…she sighed. Nothing could change who she was at this late date.
She pinned a silver brooch at the
throat of her white blouse, which snuggly outlined her breasts the way the navy
skirt hugged the curve of her hips. Was the sash too girlish, or did it accent
her hips like those bustles she had seen in a fashion magazine at McGuffy’s Mercantile?
Although she told herself she didn’t want the latest fashions that could be
ordered from back east, she still wondered if Joe would think her terribly
backward and out of fashion. She didn’t know where he had been or what he had seen,
but figured it was more than the Double T offered.
She frowned. She shouldn’t care
what he thought, but realized she did. Her heart did a funny little flip-flop
when she recalled how she had walked halfway out of the water before he had
turned his back. The warmth of a blush now heated her cheeks at her bold
behavior, but she had wanted him to realize she wasn’t the little girl he had
known.
Instead, he gave no reaction
whatsoever. He simply turned and rode away. With a sigh, she pinched her cheeks
to add color and turned from the mirror. What should she do now? Again she
wished her mother was here. There were so many questions she needed answered,
but they were not the kind she could ask her father. Most definitely not.
She left her room and hurried down
the hallway, already thinking of the one person who could help her come up with
a plan to capture Joe’s attention. When she entered the study, she stopped
short. Daddy sat in his big leather chair, but her gaze automatically slid to
Joe, who leaned against the fireplace mantel.
He had washed the trail dust off
and his hair was still wet, slicked back from a high forehead and brushing the
collar of his shirt. The black he wore gave him a formidable hands-off
appearance, but when she finished her slow survey from his boots to his face,
she found silver eyes laughing at her.
“Good evening,” she stated,
swinging her gaze to her daddy to regain her composure. He rose and Joe
straightened, their conversation immediately at an end. Sky then realized that
whatever had brought Joe back to the Double T, her father knew about it
already.
“Sky, you remember Joe Dawson?” he
asked as she stepped forward. Apparently Joe hadn’t said anything about seeing
her at the pond earlier.
She put out her hand.
Unexpectedly, Joe raised it, bowing ever so slightly. His twinkling eyes caught
her gaze, and he smiled.
“Well, at least you haven’t
forgotten the manners Mama forced us to learn.” Sky couldn’t help but smile in
return, remembering how Joe used to squirm when he took meals with them, and
her mother tried to teach him social etiquette. His preference would have been
to be outside with the cowboys because she had wanted the same thing.
He seemed reluctant to let go of
her hand. “I’m still more comfortable with my horse than in a drawing room, but
I do know how to behave.”
“Have the past years required it?”
Sky questioned, unbridled curiosity running away with her tongue. Her hand
tingled from the calloused feel of his.
“Give the boy a chance,” her
daddy interrupted, handing her a glass of wine. “He got wounded working as a
Ranger, protecting your pretty little Texas backside.”
Sky’s heart lurched as her gaze scanned
him from head to toe. “Wounded?” Reports she had heard about the famous Texas
Rangers rushed through her mind.
Then her brow furrowed in anger. “You
weren’t fighting Indians, were you? I don’t understand everybody’s frantic wish
to eradicate the—”
“Whoa there, missy. Joe’s a guest
in this house and you won’t get on your high-horse about Indian rights.” Her
father’s tone brooked no argument.
“I thought you hired him,” she returned before
remembering it was an overheard conversation. “I mean, I assumed he was back
for work.” She noticed that Joe had realized her slip, for one eyebrow rose and
his eyes crinkled at the edges in amusement.
“I did hire him, but still—” Her father didn’t
get to finish as Bonita announced supper.
As they walked into the dining
room, Sky noticed for the first time that Joe walked with a limp. However he had
been wounded, he was either not healed or the accident had left him permanently
lame. Her heart hurt for him.
Over a meal of spicy beef,
Mexican beans and fried corn, along with Bonita’s delicious stone ground bread,
Joe told them a little of what he had been doing as a Ranger. Sky watched him
finish a third helping of apple crisp with cream before he picked up his coffee
cup.
“You can’t mean to say you agree
with putting the Indians on reservations?” she asked.
“Sky,” her father warned.
“It’s okay, Coop. Sky always did
say what she thought.” The corner of Joe’s mouth quirked, and she wondered
which of the hundreds of times she had spouted off he was thinking about.
“The Indians have lost their
hunting grounds,” Joe started. “In fact, the buffalo in North Texas and Kansas
are almost to the point of extinction.”
“Only because the soldiers and
buffalo hunters killed so many to feed the troops, along with what those
easterners killed just for sport.” Sky had little tolerance for waste, whether
it was the land or the animals that roamed free across it.
“I realize it wasn’t the Indians’
fault,” Joe agreed, “but that doesn’t eliminate the problem. Without animals to
hunt, they would have starved if the government hadn’t stepped in.”
Sky snorted. “Your government put
them on barren land that they can’t farm, even if they knew how.”
“Some of the tribes migrated here
on their own. Regardless, there’s been numerous reports of renegades causing
problems among the ranchers up around San Felipe Del Rio. Whether they hunt or
farm—or don’t farm—they don’t have the right to destroy other people’s
property,” Joe argued.
“That land shouldn’t belong to
settlers anyway,” Sky retorted. “Besides the fact that San Felipe is far north
of here, Black Thunder wouldn’t allow his people to do that.” Too late, she
realized her admission.
“Black Thunder?” Joe raised a
brow. “From the Kickapoo tribe?”
“Damn it, Sky. I’ve told you it
would be better to stay away from the reservation,” her father said at the same
time.
“You give them beef.”
“That’s different,” he replied.
Sky shook her head. It was his
answer any time she disagreed with him.
“Your father’s right, Sky. You
shouldn’t be seen anywhere near the reservations. Trouble is brewing and you
don’t want to be caught in the cross fire.”
“You are.” She stubbornly refused
to give up.
Joe shook his head. “Not any
more. When I took a bullet in the thigh, and not fighting Indians, they
officially retired me.”
“That’s why you came back,” she
whispered, more to herself than to him.
“Partly.” He shrugged. “And partly
to decide what to do now.”
“You can foreman the Double T,
that’s what you can do.” Coop stepped into the conversation. “I can use some
strong, young help around here.”
Now was not the time to mention
the conversation she had overheard. She would have to prove to her father that
she was capable of running the Double T. Besides, she didn’t mind that Joe was
here. She would come up with a plan to make him realize he needed to stay here
with her—to run the ranch with her. In the meantime, the less said about the
Kickapoo Indians, the better. She didn’t need her father forbidding her to see
her friends.
* * *
The next day Joe curried the last
of the horses. His thigh wasn’t healed enough to help Coop break horses for
roundup, but at least he could do some of the mundane chores. Every morning for
the past four months he swam, squatted, stood and walked, trying to hurry the
healing process. But some days, the pain almost doubled him over.
He groaned as he straightened
from checking the horse’s hooves. It was then he saw the sheriff ride into the
yard. During most of his time with the Texas Rangers, he worked with the local
law enforcement when necessary but never considered them more than professional
acquaintances. Perhaps not all dealt the law with equal fairness, because when
he was honest with himself, he realized his bitter experience with the sheriff
and deputy of Camino most likely colored his thinking.
Sheriff Warren, the law at Eagle
Pass, was not much different from the rest. Pin a badge on their chests and too
many of them thought they owned the town instead of serving the town.
“Morning, Dawson,” the sheriff
said as he swung down from his horse next to the corral.
“Sheriff.”
“Sort of a come down from rangering,
ain’t it?” The sheriff nodded towards the horses.
“Nothing wrong with honest work,
far as I know,” Joe replied. He hadn’t liked the man’s attitude when he
introduced himself in Eagle Pass, but if he expected help locating his family,
he had to hold his tongue.
“Got a telegram from one of your
Ranger friends.” Warren spit a stream of tobacco close enough to the horse’s
hoof to make the animal shy away. Joe caught the halter, speaking in a low,
soothing tone. If he didn’t need the sheriff’s help….
Joe’s silence got a scowl from
the sheriff, but Joe didn’t have to wait long for the man to continue. As he
spoke he watched Joe closely, evidently expecting some kind of reaction.
“Joe Horner and his gang of
outlaws have been seen around Del Rio and this friend of yours seems to think
you might be particularly interested in some young kid riding with him.”
Seth. Joe’s heart slammed against his
ribs, but he was careful to keep his face from revealing any emotion.
Before he got wounded, he had
traced his brother to a dirt farm near Abilene. The farmer hadn’t had anything
good to say about Seth. Instead, he told Joe that he beat Seth often when the
boy wouldn’t work as long or hard as the man wanted. The farmer said he ran off
weeks before and he’d beat him again if he came back. If another Ranger hadn’t
been there to hold Joe back, the man wouldn’t have lived to see the sun set.
Now the sheriff was telling him
Seth might be riding with outlaws. Joe only hoped his brother hadn’t been
directly involved with breaking the law so he could get him out before it was
too late. The boy would only be about twelve or thirteen, too young to be
turning to a life of crime.
“You ain’t got nothing to say?” the
sheriff asked.
“Thanks for the information.” Joe
knew the man was fishing and wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of
thinking his information had value.
“I don’t want no trouble around
here, Dawson.” He spit in the dirt again. “You got problems with Horner, you
keep ’em out of my town, hear?”
“Sheriff, I’m no longer a Texas
Ranger. What I do now is personal business and none of yours.”
“Yeah, well, Cooper Tate is a
powerful man ’round these parts. I’d sure as hell hate to have to shoot one of
his men.” His words were matched by his feral grin.
“I’ve got work to do.” Joe took
hold of the horse’s bridle and walked off, leaving the sheriff standing alone
at the corral.
* * *
Joe left town and headed back to
the ranch late that afternoon. The sheriff’s information hadn’t led him to his
brother, but some eavesdropping at the saloon in Eagle Pass yielded other
useful information. Joe Horner’s gang had robbed a bank in Comanche two weeks
ago and they were heading this way. He also heard rumors about a possible hit
on a bank in Carrizo Springs.
Even though he no longer wore a
badge, he wouldn’t allow Horner’s gang to rob a bank. He hadn’t told Sheriff
Warren what he had learned because he wanted to make sure Seth wasn’t involved.
Although he shouldn’t feel compelled to relay information to the sheriff, he’d
make sure the authorities in Carrizo Springs were notified and hopefully a
shootout could be avoided.
Joe turned to the south, deciding
to take a circular route back to the ranch so he could check a group of cattle
on the south range near the Rio Grande. As he sat at the edge of the grazing
area, he watched the calves romping in the tall grass. Low mooing would quickly
have them back at their mothers’ sides. Coop still had plenty of pasture to
feed them until roundup, but he wondered how hard the trip north to the
railhead would be on the longhorns.
Checking the position of the sun
in the western sky, he figured a couple of hours of daylight remained and had
better head back to the house. He reined Critter around and kicked him into a
canter, thinking about the Double T and its occupants. Coop and Tianna had
taken him in and treated him like family, and it was the only home he cared to
remember.
But he wasn’t family, regardless
of what Coop said about him taking over the ranch. His family remained
scattered across the plains of Texas. He recalled his stepmother, Rebecca, with
a certain fondness and his father with disgust, but his sisters and brothers
remained constantly on his mind. No matter how much time had passed, he
intended to find them and bring them all together under one roof. It was an
oath he had sworn the night the sheriff forced him into running away, only to
be caught.
For a brief moment, he let his
mind drift back to that ill-fated day seven years before. By the time the
sheriff had let him out of jail, Preacher Burke and his family were nowhere to
be found. Joe tried to pick up a trail, but with no horse or money, he didn’t
get far.
He had resorted to stealing when
Cooper Tate caught him. The older man made Joe understand that searching for
his family would be easier with a stake. Then he gave him a job to earn what he
needed.
Joe touched the silver concho he
wore on a leather thong as he promised himself it was the last time he would
let anyone down. It was the reason he had made sure Coop understood he would
only work at the Double T if he could come and go as needed.
His head jerked when he heard a yelp.
Scanning the horizon, he saw two riders, one behind the other, racing at
breakneck speed across the plain, the one in back closing the distance. He
kicked his own horse into a gallop when he heard the yelp again.
Indians.
What were they doing on this side
of the river? The Kickapoo reservation was in Mexico, down below Ft. Duncan
near Yacimoto. The war whoops grew louder and Joe rode faster, trying to make
out the two riders. When he recognized the horse in front by its distinctive
paint markings, he felt gut-punched. What the hell was Sky doing this far south
of the ranch house?
“Go, Critter.” He urged his horse
to greater speed.
The Indian raised his spear in
the air, wind whipping his angry yell across the flat plain, carrying with it
the nightmares that haunted Joe from all the times he and other Rangers had
come too late. Images of burning farms, overturned wagons and butchered cattle
raced through his mind. It had never been the animals he worried about but
rather the people. Now it was Sky.
He laid low over Critter’s neck.
He wasn’t going to make it. He yelled a warning to Sky, hoping she would veer
towards him, making it easier to intercept her. But she was looking back over
her other shoulder at the brave.
Joe pulled his revolver and fired.
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