Comanche Cowboy (The Durango Family) (26 page)

Maxwell’s braes are bonnie, where early falls the dew, and that’s where Annie Laurie . . .

Lynnie liked that song. Once, when she was very small, she had asked him if he had ever known a girl by that name and tears had come to his eyes. “Yes, I did,” he whispered. “But it was a very long time ago, before I married your mother. . . .”

She waited for him to say more but he didn’t, the green eyes staring into space as if remembering another time. The expression on his face told her that he had loved Annie very much, maybe even as much as he loved her big sister, Cayenne. She wondered if maybe it had been a little daughter who had died. When Lynnie mentioned it to her mother, Hannah had lost her temper and slapped her ’til her wire-rimmed spectacles fell off.

Don’t ever mention that name again,
Mama had shouted, and Lynnie never did. But when Papa saw the bruises on Lynnie’s face, he cornered Mama and there was shouting and angry words.

Lynnie watched Trask come out of the hardware store, where he’d bought a new pair of spurs, and go into the town’s one saloon. Banker Ogle owned that, too, even keeping it open on Sundays. He didn’t go to church anyway.

Had Trask seen the letter in her hand?
No, all he was doing was getting some whiskey. Slade would be mad if he knew Trask didn’t stay with the McBrides like he had been told to do when they went into town. He always sneaked off to the saloon.

The two little boys sauntered away from the buggy, happily playing the willow whistles.

One of them turned back to yell at Papa. “Ma says come to dinner sometime, Reverend, and bring the girls. There’ll be chicken-fried steak.”

Chicken-fried steak
. There were four things Texans liked to eat better than anything. barbecue, Mexican food, fried chicken, and chicken-fried steak, dipped in egg batter and fried all crusty brown and served with cream gravy.

There’d been chicken-fried steak for dinner that first night the trio sat down at the long family dining table. Old Rosita was proud to welcome Senor McBride’s friends with a good dinner, pleased when Papa explained they’d be staying a few days to visit.

The three younger sisters, Stevie, Gracious, and Angel, stared down the long table, thrilled to have company at the isolated ranch.

Gracious twiddled with the untied ribbons of her sash. She never had learned to tie a bow. “Where do you know my daddy from?”

“Now, Gracie,” Papa said. “It isn’t polite to ask so many questions. Mr. Slade and the others were all friends in another place a long time ago.”

Slade turned his most charming smile on the youngster. “That’s right, kid. Too bad I never married. I’d have liked to have had a pretty kid like you.”

Gracious turned brick-red with delight. Lynnie sighed audibly.

Slade gave her a nod. “And you’re the smart one, ain’t you? Why, your dad tells me you’re smart enough to go back east to school.”

Primly, Lynnie pushed her wire-framed glasses back up her nose. “If we ever get any money by then.”

Slade clucked sympathetically. “Be a shame if you didn’t get to go. I’m expecting to come into an inheritance, maybe I might give you—”

“Papa wouldn’t allow that,” Steve pulled at her pigtails. “He wouldn’t think it honest.”

Trask paused in stuffing his face with buttered corn pone. “And your papa is right,” he said. “But maybe we could loan the money and your papa could pay it back when he could.”

Lynnie tried not to smile with delight. She dreamed of school, of buying all the books she wanted. If only it were true. . . .

The Mexican gestured down the table. “Now what about that pretty little
Senorita
there with the long pigtails? How old are you,
muchacha?”

“Seven,” she lisped. “I’m Stevie.”

Trask belched. “A little girl named Steve?”

Joe answered sheepishly, embarrassed, “We were planning for a boy.”

Slade leaned back in his chair, patting his full belly. “You got a nice family, Joe, beauties every one.” He looked over at the toddler in the high chair. “If that little one keeps suckin’ her thumb, she’ll have crooked teeth, though.”

Angel took her finger out of her mouth and looked around guiltily. “Will not!”

“Will, too!” Steve said. “Now, Angel, you know what Cayenne told you. . . .”

“Who’s Cayenne?” The Mexican looked up from the hot peach pie he was shoveling in as fast as he could.

“Just the oldest of my daughters,” Joe said quickly. “But as I told you before, she’s in Kansas looking after a sick aunt. Afraid you’ll never get to meet her.”

Something in his tone let Lynnie know Joe didn’t want the trio meeting his oldest child.

Slade smiled expansively at all the children, at old
Senora
Rosita who had just entered with more coffee. “You’re a lucky man, Joe McBride,” he smiled expansively. “You got the prettiest daughters in all Texas and probably the best cook this side of the Rio Grande.”

Rosita paused and the Mexican caught her hand, kissing it.
“Senora,
my mother never made such food, I swear by all the saints!”

Rosita blushed like a school girl. “
Senor
, you flatter me! I’ve made better,” she said, flustered, but she beamed at the Mexican.

It didn’t take but a couple of days before the charming Slade had everyone but Papa and Lynnie wishing aloud the friendly trio would stay on the Lazy M forever. Papa said little but sat in his rocker on the squeaky porch for hours at a time, whittling. Sometimes he played a whistle as he finished it. He always played that same haunting folk tune. She thought about it now, wondering if it were the only one he could play or if he just loved it so.

She didn’t tell him she’d overheard his conversation with Slade that first day. But when she tried gently to pry a little information out of Papa about the trio, he grew cool and distant. “You know what happened when Pandora opened the box and let loose a world of trouble because she was so curious? Don’t open that box, Lynnie. If you love me, don’t ask any more questions. They’ll be gone in a few weeks and things will be as they were.”

“But, Papa, who are they?”

“They’re just old friends passing through, nothing more to it than that. I knew them a long time ago. . . . .”

Hank Billings’s thoroughbred nickered again and Lynnie decided she’d better let Papa know about the letter from Cayenne before Trask came out of the saloon.
Had she done the wrong thing in asking her big sister to take action?

Lynnie readjusted her wire spectacles on her freckled nose, shook back her red hair, and walked purposely toward the buggy. Depending on what Cee Cee’s letter said, Papa would have to make the decisions now. Lynnie had done all a nine-year-old girl could do about that trio!

Joe McBride sat in the buggy tied in front of Billings General Store and waited for Lynnie to return. The July sun beat hot on his bearded face and he shifted a little so he would be shaded by the buggy top.

He closed his eyes and yawned. The sounds and smells of the sleepy hamlet drifted to him and he smiled contentedly. Joe was not one to curse God for what had happened; what might have been. He said a silent prayer that he was alive and wondered if the Almighty intended to do anything about the trio of outlaws who had been staying at the Lazy M the past couple of weeks.

He wasn’t sure just exactly what he could do about them himself. Even if he weren’t so handicapped, a top gun would be loco to take on all three of those gunslingers. Besides, there was the safety of his beloved little girls, the gentle Mexicans on his ranch, and the harmless townspeople to consider. Maybe Slade’s gang was just hiding out and would move on when things cooled down. That way, Joe wouldn’t have to make any decisions about what to do. Yep, soon maybe, Slade’s boys would head up to the old hideout in the Indian Territory known as Robber’s Roost.

“Papa, there’s a letter from Cee Cee.” He jerked around as Lynnie’s high-pitched voice brought him out of his musings.
Lynnie, so small and serious for her age, so bright. He had always hoped to send her away east to some fancy college but there was no money for that now.

“A letter from Cee Cee? That’s nice; I miss her. Did you see Trask?”

“He’s gone over to the saloon.” Lynnie climbed up next to him in the buggy and tore open the letter.

Slade always sent Trask with them when they went to town. What nobody told Slade was that Trask didn’t watch them at all; he sat in Ogle’s saloon and drank. Not that there was anything to worry about, Joe thought bitterly. Joe couldn’t turn them in, get help, without revealing his own past. He was proud of his fine reputation here, and maybe saving his reputation meant even more to him than the possibility of going to prison or even being hanged over that poor teller who’d been killed in the St. Joe bank. Who then would look after his orphaned daughters?

Lynnie cleared her throat importantly. Joe knew she was proud of her new learning. “You want I should read you what Cee Cee says?”

Joe felt cold apprehension run up his back. “Oh, Lynnie, you didn’t write and tell her about Slade, did you?”

She fidgeted a moment in the silence. “Well, yes, Papa, I did. I overheard you talking to those so-called friends of yours and didn’t know what to do, so I wrote Sister and told her to come home.”

“Lynnie, I wished you hadn’t done that; no use worrying her. Besides, you’re mistaken; these are old friends and they’re welcome to stay and visit awhile.” He prayed silently that God would overlook his lying since it was for a good cause. Lynnie might be in danger if she knew too much.

“Cee Cee always knows what to do, Papa,” her voice was apologetic. “I know you say they’re your friends, but I think they’re up to something bad. I overheard them in the barn talkin’ about an army payroll.”

He put his arm around her thin shoulders. “Oh, Bill and the boys are just blowhards; don’t mean anything. You know what Texans say, ’All hat and no cattle.’ Probably nothin’ to it.”

His mouth went suddenly dry.
An army payroll. Now why would an army payroll come through a sleepy village like this one?
Town gossip at church on Sundays was full of all the troop movements and the Red River Uprising. “So read me your sister’s letter,” he said lightly.

Dear Lynnie. You’ll be glad to know I’ve found the man I’ve been looking for. Yes, it’s wedding bells for your big sister and Papa will have that son he always wanted. Isn’t it exciting? My love’s tall and dark with a scar down one cheek like a romantic dueling scar! And he rides a big gray stallion. I know you like horses so much! Must get this in the mail. Be home in a few weeks to make plans. Don’t try to do anything ’til I get there. I intend to take care of everything. Love from me and my intended, Cee Cee.

Maverick Durango
. Joe felt as if he’d suddenly been splashed with ice water. No, maybe he was jumpin’ to conclusions. There was lots of tall, dark men out there for his daughter to meet. He tried to convince himself a long moment, but his inner voice said,
But how many of them have a scar down one cheek and ride a big gray horse?
No, his innocent daughter could only be describing Maverick.

Joe had met old Don Diego de Durango last year at the Cattleman’s Association meeting when the old man had come over to congratulate him on his expert shooting, on winning the fine Winchester rifle. When he’d found out Joe’s name, that aristocratic old man had hesitated a long moment and finally told him there was something they must discuss.

Lynnie twisted on the seat. “Is something the matter, Papa? You look sick. Are you all right?”

“Just a little too much sun, I reckon.” He felt in his pocket with a trembling hand for a bandana and wiped his perspiring face. “Lynnie, I—I think I need to send a wire to Cee Cee.”

“A wire!” Her voice was shocked. “Papa, that costs a lot of money!”

“I know, I know,” he nodded. “But it’s important that it get there fast.”

It was probably already too late,
he thought with a sinking heart. “What’s the date on that letter?”

“No date, Papa.”

Maybe there was just an outside chance Cee Cee hadn’t yet left Wichita. “Lynnie, I’ll sit right here so as not to arouse Trask’s suspicions in case he comes out of the saloon. I’m the one they’re watchin’ anyhow.”

He wondered if Lynnie realized how the three always kept some of the children as hostages just in case Joe wasn’t afraid of blackmail?
The blackmail was enough, Lord help him! His reputation in this town meant too much to Joe to have the outlaws tell his secret past.

He reached for some coins and held them out to her. “Mind you make sure Trask don’t see you.”

“What do you want me to do?”

How could he word it to warn Cee Cee but not alarm Lynnie? He could trust old Mr. Faine at the telegraph not to breathe a word or ask any questions. His wife had been one of those Joe had ransomed.

“Get Mr. Faine to send this wire fast as greased lightning. “Dear Daughter. Stay in Wichita until Indian troubles over. Stop. Don’t bring that man here and tell him nothing. Stop. Will explain later. Stop. Love, Papa.”

“Why don’t you want him here? Why, Papa? It sounds like Cee Cee intends to marry him.”

Marry him. How could his innocent daughter know that Maverick Durango intended to kill Joe McBride? But he knew. The old Don had warned him. Annie Laurie’s son was finally coming for his revenge.

“Why? Because it’s dangerous with all those Indians on the warpath,” he said truthfully. Joe thrust the silver into Lynnie’s hands. “Now, go along and do as I ask, honey, and then let’s not tell anyone about this letter.” He reached out, took it from her hand, and stuffed it in his coat pocket.

“But, Papa, why—?”

“Just do it, Lynnie,” he snapped, and was immediately sorry. He had never raised his voice to his precious daughters much less his hand as Hannah had done. But he was so afraid, not for himself but for his children. What would happen to them if Annie Laurie’s vengeful son killed Joe and left his daughters orphaned?

“Let’s say I favor another young man for your sister.”

“Ohhh,” Lynnie said with mature understanding. “That Jones boy at church, or—?”

“I’ll discuss that with your sister when she finally gets home,” he said. “Now take care of it for me before Trask comes out of that saloon.”

Lynnie’s little shoes fairly flew down the boardwalk. Joe sighed, rubbing his bearded face on his sleeve, listening to her footsteps fading toward the telegraph office. He could count on kindly old Mr. Faine to be discreet and not gossip about the wire he’d sent.

Joe felt suddenly like Job being tested by God with mounting troubles. Didn’t he have enough problems trying to protect his family, this town, and his own spotless reputation without Maverick Durango suddenly showing up to extract his pound of flesh?

Annie Laurie. Joe’s beloved first wife. Maverick Durango’s mother by some savage Comanche warrior. It didn’t seem quite fair that Joe hadn’t sired Annie’s son. They’d had such plans, such dreams together. And Joe had no son at all to pass that fancy rifle on down to. Ironic how things turned out. He shook his head, thinking. If things had been different, Maverick and Cee Cee might have been brother and sister, as it was, they were no kin at all. For a moment, he wondered what the angry young man looked like. Maverick probably had Annie’s eyes. Did he also have that rare smile that lit up her face like a Texas sunrise?

His hand went to the crumpled letter in his pocket, remembering Don Durango’s description. Half Comanche with eyes as gray as a gun barrel, riding a ghost gray stallion.

. . . and I looked up and beheld a pale horse and his name that sat upon him was Death and hell followed with him.

Revelations, chapter 6, verse 8, Joe remembered. His other hand went to another coat pocket and found the comfort of the worn Bible he always kept close at hand. He knew nearly every word of it by heart, even though he’d never been able to read well so he could still preach to his small congregation on Sundays. Well, nothing happened without a reason, and who was Joe McBride to question the Lord’s mysterious ways?

Maybe he was apprehensive for nothing
, Joe thought, still clutching the Bible.
Maybe the man Cee Cee had described and the description Don Durango had given him were not the same man.
No, it had to be. He felt it deep in his soul. If his wire reached his daughter in time, maybe she would lose the young man instead of leading the would-be killer to the Lazy M Ranch. It would be a while before he knew, and in the meantime, what was he going to do about his old outlaw partner, Bill Slade?

He buried his face in his hands.
Nothing. That’s what he was going to do. Nothing
. Maybe the trio would just finally ride out and move on. It was obvious they were on the run from the law. If only the tiny town had a real sheriff. But the sleepy village had never needed one before. If Joe told anyone in town, there might be some shooting and some innocent townspeople would get killed. And he couldn’t send for the marshal without his own outlaw past coming out. He was just human and weak enough to enjoy being a hero, enjoy the regard and respect this town held for him. And even after twenty-five years, wouldn’t the law still want to hang someone for killing that bank clerk in St. Joe, even though Joe hadn’t pulled the trigger?

The sound of feet running on the boardwalk made him jerk up, and Lynnie piled into the buggy, breathless. “I took care of it, Papa. Mr. Faine says the lines are down half the time because of the Indian troubles, but they’re working right now and he’ll get that message to Wichita.”

“Good girl.” He put the Bible back in his pocket and patted her thin shoulder. “Now, Lynnie, let’s keep this quiet and everything you overheard, too. Obviously, Bill and the boys was just carryin’ you high, you know, makin’ jokes because they knew you was listenin’. They’re just good ol’ boys.”

“If you say so, Papa.” She sounded doubtful. But he knew his children trusted and believed in him just as this town did. Even in his prime, before he was tortured, Joe would have hesitated to try to go up against those three fast guns with his rifle, and now . . .

No, he wouldn’t do anything to endanger his reputation, his family, or the gentle townspeople.

“Lynnie,” he said, “do you think Papa would have friends that weren’t fine, honest people?”

“Well, no, Papa, but they seem pretty rough.”

She was a smart one for her age. He wished again he had the money to send her to some fancy school. Still, he didn’t regret the fact that he had bankrupted himself to get the money to ransom the captives.

“You can’t always tell about people from their looks, Lynnie. Deep in their hearts, Slade and the boys aren’t all that bad.”

No, they were worse. God forgive me for hiding the truth, Joe thought.

The seat creaked as Lynnie leaned out of the buggy. “Here comes Trask.”

“Remember, don’t discuss this,” Joe cautioned.

“I won’t, Papa.”

Trask still had that bad leg from that St. Joe sheriff who had interrupted the robbery,
Joe thought. He didn’t turn his head, listening to the heavy man drag his foot a little as he crossed the boardwalk behind the buggy, came around, and got in. “Well, Joe, hope you didn’t mind settin’ in the sun while I had a few drinks,” Trask laughed.

“From the smell of you, I’d say you had more’n a few,” Joe said before he thought.
He needed to pray over his Scots-Irish temper, he thought.

Trask belched and laughed good-naturedly. “Little girl, you get the supplies we came for?”

“I did,” Lynnie said pointedly. “And if you didn’t eat so much, we wouldn’t keep running out of flour and stuff.”

“Lynnie,” Joe scolded, “that’s not polite!”

“I’m sorry,” the child said contritely. “Reckon I need to pray about my sharp tongue.”