Texas Homecoming (16 page)

“We do not treat our prisoners like this in Poland,” Ivan said.

“Then it’s a shame we didn’t get arrested in Poland,” Nate snapped.

“They may treat ex-noblemen well, but peasants like us get thrown in with the rats,” Holt said.

“I’m not a peasant,” Nate protested.

“We would be in Poland.”

“You can argue all night if you want, but I’m going to sleep,” Cade said. “I’ll have thought of something by tomorrow.”

“You’d better,” Nate said. “I got a date with a rope and a traitor’s neck, and I don’t want to miss it.”

Cade rolled up his jacket and put it under his head. He didn’t want to think that he had failed his men again, but he couldn’t escape it. Nate had started the fight—ever since his brother’s death, he’d hated Yankees too much to listen to reason—but Cade felt responsible. He had spent much of the afternoon trying to think, but the constant bickering destroyed his concentration. He’d go to sleep. When he woke up, he’d be rested and things would be quiet. He’d figure out a solution then.

He hated to think that his defense of Pilar was responsible for his arrest. He couldn’t have done anything less, even if she had been a perfect stranger. He hoped things hadn’t come to such a pass in Texas that riffraff were allowed to accost honest women on the street. Just the thought made Cade want to fight the man all over again.

Cade forced himself to clear his mind. He needed sleep. He would have to be mighty sharp to find a way around Major Kramer.

But as he drifted off to sleep, the image of the man trying to drag Pilar off came into his mind. And he knew as well as he knew his name that he’d had no choice but to stop him, even if he had to hang for it.

*          *          *

Cade couldn’t sleep. He was uneasy about the raid, but he had no reason. The Union Army was more than fifty miles away. His troop was famous for its speed and the horses that carried them spectacular distances to raid unsuspecting trains, supply wagons, and munitions factories. They had conducted so many night raids they were called the Night Riders.

No, this was a different kind of uneasiness. He kept having bad dreams. In one, his favorite mare had lost a new foal to wolves, which made no sense. He had no favorite mare and his grandfather’s ranch wasn’t plagued by wolves. The others had been more fantastic than realistic—mythical beasts attacking princesses, an earthquake splitting the crust of Texas and swallowing the San Antonio River whole.

None of it made any sense except that he was certain there was danger ahead.

Cade sat up on the blanket that was his bed on the hard ground. Because of the stifling heat, he and his men slept outside. The morning was very still and the humidity oppressive. They would raid a payroll wagon tomorrow. It carried a gold shipment, bullion the Confederacy needed to pay its bills to countries unwilling to extend credit to the Confederate government. Everything had been planned down to the last detail, but he couldn’t sleep.

Something somewhere was wrong.

They rode at night, spent the day sleeping in the woods or wherever they could find a sympathetic farmer. Today his men were scattered through an apple orchard, some sleeping under the grapevine, others on the shady side of a wall or building. They would all move when the sun changed direction in the afternoon.

Suddenly the sense of impending danger was so great, Cade threw aside his blanket. “Get up!” he shouted as he got to his
feet. “We’ve got to move. Now!” he shouted when no one moved. “We can’t stay in the open.”

“It’s too damned hot inside,” one man grumbled. “Even the ground is hot.”

But even as the men complained and rolled over to go back to sleep, Cade’s sense of danger grew stronger, more urgent. “We’ve got to find cover. We’re not safe here.”

“Is this an example of your famous sixth sense?” Nate asked.

“I don’t know,” Cade replied. “I’ve just got a feeling something’s wrong.”

“Come on,” Ivan said to Holt, who was sleeping close by. “Cade’s sixth sense is good enough for me.”

“Where’s Owen?” Cade asked.

“Probably trying to find a way inside the farmhouse to the daughter’s bedroom,” Holt said. “That man can’t think of anything else when there’s a woman around.” Holt stood and rolled up his blanket.

“Tell everybody to get inside one of the buildings,” Cade said.

“I don’t know why you’re so worried,” one of the men said. “We got a sentry posted. Nobody knows we’re within a hundred miles of this place.”

This place
wasn’t even on most maps. It was a farm very much like thousands of others in the Shenandoah Valley.

“Just get inside,” Cade said. “I’ll see if anybody’s sleeping on the other side of those barns. And don’t leave your weapons behind.”

They had to guard their horses just as carefully. Good horses were in even greater demand than good soldiers.

Cade didn’t find any of his men sleeping beyond the bam, but he did find Owen having a late morning tryst with the oldest daughter of the family. It angered him, but didn’t surprise him.
His Virginia cousin was addicted to females of any description. “You’re supposed to be resting up for our ride tonight.”

The girl blushed and tried to pull away from Owen. He held on to her, his face tight with anger.

“I’m always ready to do my part. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I have to worry whether we’ll be less welcome than the Yankees if you don’t keep your hands off every woman in the valley.”

The girl succeeded in breaking away and ran toward the house, her laugh as joyous as her eyes were bright. Owen tried to call her back, but Cade stopped him.

“Leave her alone. You’re not good enough for her.”

“I don’t need your sanctimonious preachings. I’m your cousin, not your brother.”

“You’re part of my command, and as such
—”

Cade never finished that statement. At that moment, a cannonade of gunfire broke out all around them. Men on horseback came crashing through the orchard. He looked up in time to see the girl throw up her hands and fall to the ground.

“You son of a bitch!” he shouted as he and Owen both ran for the cover of the barn. “You got that girl killed.”

Less than half of the troop had followed Cade’s orders. Many of them had been caught in the open, defenseless, as Union cavalry swept into the open areas around the house and buildings, shooting down sleeping and running men like ducks on a pond. Even those who escaped the first assault barely had time to bring their weapons into play before they, too, came under intense fire.

Cade could do nothing more for his men than run for cover himself. Just stay alive for the survivors, he told himself. He
had to know what had gone wrong, had to know if he was to blame.

Just stay alive.

Cade woke to find Holt shaking him awake. “Get up. Pilar has come to get us out. And she’s brought a senator to help.”

Chapter Sixteen

“You have no authority to keep these men in prison,” Mr. Wilcox was saying.

“They got into a fight with Union Army soldiers,” Major Kramer said.

“They wouldn’t have if you hadn’t ignored the testimony of eyewitnesses.”

“I had an eyewitness who testified to the opposite.”

“Did you attempt to learn the character of that witness?”

“That’s not my job.”

“Neither is locking up citizens. You have no authority bestowed on you by this town or by Texas.”

“I don’t need—”

“Not even the Army is above the law,” the senator stated.

Mr. Wilcox’s intervention seemed to have hardened the major’s determination to try Cade and his friends before an Army court.

They had been in his office for more than an hour. Mr.
Wilcox had advanced several arguments. Voices had been raised, threats had been uttered, but the major remained adamant.

“I intend to make an example of these men,” he said. “The Union Army will not allow its soldiers to be abused by rabble.”

“Does the Union Army ordinarily consider hardworking men of property to be rabble, or are they rabble because they were Confederate soldiers?”

Owen’s entry into the office prevented the major from answering.

“I’m in conference,” the major barked. “The sergeant wasn’t supposed to let anyone in.”

“I didn’t see a sergeant,” Owen said, his expression blank. “I didn’t see any soldiers at all.”

“He’s at the desk in the outer office.”

“There’s nobody there,” Owen said. “I didn’t see any soldiers at all.”

The major headed for the door, went outside. The senator turned to Owen. “Who are you?”

“He’s Cade’s cousin,” Pilar explained. “He’s helping me get Cade out.”

“I intend to speak to the mayor and the city council,” the senator said. “Major Kramer intends to use every soldier at his disposal to defy local authority.”

“He may find he has less manpower than he thinks.” Owen winked at Pilar, then retreated to a corner when he heard the major’s boot heels ringing on the flagstones of the outer room.

“Where are my men? Where are the prisoners?”

Everyone turned to Owen. They sensed that his coming into the room hadn’t been the accident it seemed at first.

“There weren’t any soldiers around to ask, so I let Cade and my friends out.”

Pilar’s heart started to beat so rapidly it hurt. Cade was free! She wouldn’t have to feel guilty for being the reason he was in prison. But the extent of her happiness went far beyond relief from guilt.

This was personal. She wanted him free for herself.

“Where are my men?” the major thundered. “What have you done with them?”

Owen’s laugh was low and easy. Pilar thought it sounded evil. “Are you accusing me of having overpowered more than twenty soldiers? If I’d been able to do that, the Confederate Army would be in Washington, D.C., rather than the Union Army in Texas.”

Wilcox looked from Owen to the major, back to Owen, then back to the major. A slow smile spread over his face. “If I understand the situation correctly, you’re alone here.”

“If you’ve so much as lifted a finger against a single soldier of the Union Army—”

“You keep saying
Union
,” Owen pointed out. “I thought it was the United States Army. Since we’re part of the United States, that means it’s our army. It’s supposed to protect us, too.”

“The young man is right,” Wilcox said. “It’s your responsibility to protect every citizen of Texas, and the most immediate protection we need is from Cortina and his bandits coming up from Mexico to steal our cattle, and from squatters taking over farms and ranches.”

The murmurs of assent were drowned out by the major’s loudly stated intention to lay the entire situation before General Phil Sheridan, and his threats to bring in a whole division to take over the town.

“I doubt that the general will be anxious to trust a division
to a man who has lost a whole troop,” Owen said. He pushed off from the wall. “If you’ll excuse us, Miss diViere and I need to get home before her grandmother begins to worry. Squatters drove Miss diViere and her grandmother off their property. So far, the United States Army hasn’t shown any interest in getting it back for her. I guess she’ll have to see if there are any ex-Confederate soldiers who feel obliged to come to the rescue of a couple of honest citizens unable to defend themselves against outlaws the United States Army seems incapable of, or uninterested in, pursuing.”

“Where are my men?” the major demanded.

“I don’t know,” Owen said, “but I do recall hearing someone say he saw some soldiers headed toward Victoria.”

“It worked!” Pilar exclaimed as they left the Alamo.

“You were right,” Owen said. “Texas men hate being sneered at and threatened by a handful of rowdy soldiers. They didn’t need much urging to get the soldiers drunk and bundle them off one by one.”

“Won’t they just come back?” she asked as they hurried along the boardwalk.

“I doubt it. The major didn’t have any authority to bring them here. He was never under orders to come this far west.”

“What will happen to Cade and the others?”

“Nothing as long as they keep out of sight. No general will like what happened to his troops. He can’t prosecute the whole town, but he could start with us. Let’s hope Cortina’s bandits give him something else to do.”

“Where is Cade?”

“Waiting for us outside of town. I tried to get him to go ahead, but he had to make sure both of us made it out. I
tried to tell him the major couldn’t do anything to you, but he had to see for himself.” Owen eyed her closely. “He didn’t seem to be half as worried about me.”

“You’re a soldier,” Pilar said. “I’m not.” She said that as much to convince Owen as herself. She didn’t want to believe that Cade had any special feeling for her. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to hold her own feelings in check any longer.

She didn’t like the look Owen gave her, couldn’t decide whether he was jealous or just angry. She didn’t know how she could have given him reason to be either.

Pilar asked Owen to tell her how he’d convinced so many strangers to help him get the soldiers drunk, but rather than listen to his explanation, she tried to sort out her own feelings. So much had happened, she didn’t know where to begin. But the way her heart leapt into her throat when she finally saw Cade convinced her that she had to start all over from the beginning.

Cade couldn’t understand why he should feel so proud of Pilar. He could understand feeling grateful. She and Owen had gotten them out of jail. She’d even talked the ex-senator into helping her. Admiration was acceptable, but pride? That implied there was something more to their relationship than friendship.

“You should have suggested to the major that he try running the squatters off your land,” he said to Pilar. “That would be one way to curry favor with the locals.”

“He wasn’t interested in anybody liking him,” Pilar said.

Cade sensed that a different kind of relationship had developed between them. He had tried to tell himself it was his imagination, but he knew it was there, knew he wanted it to remain. Because he felt connected to her in
a special way, he felt proud of what she’d done. Not many women would have had the courage to face down an Army major, not even with an ex-senator’s support. Few if any would have thought of how to make use of the natural dislike of Texans for outside authority.

Pilar deserved more than an arranged marriage to a man who still believed women were chattel. She deserved—

“What was the major doing in San Antonio?” Cade asked Pilar.

“He didn’t say.”

“You should have asked him about Laveau.”

“Why? He can’t know everybody in the Union Army.”

Cade didn’t understand why she seemed uneasy whenever he mentioned the major. She wouldn’t even look at him after he mentioned Laveau. She started talking to Holt, who was riding next to the wagon. Cade could understand modesty, but this felt like evasion.

He wished she hadn’t turned away from him. He didn’t mind rejection—he expected that—but her pose left him free to concentrate on her profile, the nearness of her body. He did mind that.

He’d become accustomed to her face. He’d kept her image in his mind all during the war. Her jet-black hair and magnolia-petal-white skin. Her enormous black eyes, alive with curiosity and excitement, served as a window into an uncomplicated mind. They bespoke innocence, openness, an eagerness to explore life.

But she had the lush body of a woman of the world.

During the war, Cade hadn’t had much time to think about women. Despite the certain knowledge that Pilar was beyond his reach—or maybe because of it—he had used her as a standard against which to measure the women he
met. As a girl, she could stand comparison with any woman.

As a woman, she was matchless.

Despite the modesty of her dress, nothing could hide the outlines of a body that caused his body to become hard in seconds. He longed to see her shoulders, to be able to touch skin he was certain was as soft and white as a gardenia blossom. Her throat rose from the ruffles around the collar of her dress like a white marble column, thin, supple, elegant. Her white skin was taut over jaw and chin, only to yield to the generous abundance of her lips, full, soft, and pink. Thick brows arched over prominent eyes fringed by inky lashes.

But he was more intrigued by the curve of her breasts.

He had felt them press against his chest two nights ago. Everything between then and now seemed compressed into a few seconds. He felt as if nothing of importance had happened since the night they kissed, and he realized he wanted to go on kissing her—her mouth, her eyes, her throat, and all the rest of her. Even now, he had to grip the reins to keep from reaching out to touch her.

He tried to put it all down to lust and long abstinence, but he had an increasingly uneasy feeling that something else had muscled its way into the equation. Every time he became physically aware of Pilar, and that happened more and more frequently, he realized his friends were looking at her in the same way. Each time he admired the swell of her breasts or the neatness of her waist, he knew Owen or Rafe was doing the same. Whenever he woke up uncomfortable because he’d dreamed of her, he figured Ivan and Broc had probably done the same.

That made him angry. He didn’t want
anybody
to think of her like that. It was one of the reasons he’d nearly killed
the squatter. And though he hadn’t realized it until now, his feelings for Pilar were responsible for his growing impatience with the men. They were irritated because he was being very slow to press her for information, considering her feelings too much. Now he realized he’d become seriously interested in Pilar, and he wouldn’t allow—

A distant sound scattered his thoughts. It was faint, almost lost amid conversations, squeaking saddles, the rasp of the wagon wheels.

“Stop!” he called out, bringing the wagon to a halt. “Don’t anybody talk!” he said when Pilar turned back at him, a question in her eyes. The men had brought their mounts to a standstill. Not a single bridle jingled. The sound didn’t come again.

“What was it?” Owen asked after a moment.

“A rifle shot.” Cade wondered if he’d actually heard it.

“You hear that out here all the time,” Pilar said.

“Let me have your horse,” Cade said to Holt as he climbed down from the wagon. “Stay with Pilar. I think someone’s attacking the ranch.”

The men reacted as they would have a few months earlier. They took out their weapons, checked their ammunition, and waited for Cade’s orders.

“Holt, take the wagon up to the ranch as quickly as you can. Ivan, stay with him. I don’t want to take a chance on anyone kidnapping Pilar. Rafe, scout around. The rest of you come with me.”

The four men rode down the trail at a fast canter.

“It could have been a hunter or a cowhand,” Owen said.

Cade didn’t answer. He was listening intently for any sound he could catch over the sound of sixteen hooves.

“Maybe you just thought you heard a rifle shot,” Owen said.

“Cade never hears wrong,” Nate said.

“Nor is his instinct wrong,” Broc added.

Cade hoped this was one time his ears and instincts were wrong. He hoped it would turn out to be the single shot of a hunter, even a hunter killing one of his own cows. All ranchers expected to lose a few cows to poachers. They lost even more with the drift south each winter.

A single shot could mean so many things, too many of them bad. If it was an attack, there ought to be more shots. The only reason for a single shot was if it was the last shot, if someone was finishing off the last pocket of opposition.

The last defender.

A burst of gunfire erupted, and Cade felt himself shudder with relief. Without waiting for an order, the men spurred their horses into a gallop.

“Make as much noise as you can,” Cade said. “Let’s hope we can drive them off before anyone gets hurt. We can worry about capturing them later.” He pulled out his pistol and started firing into the air. The others followed his example.

“How many do you think there are?” Broc shouted over the noise.

“I hope no more than four or five,” Cade shouted back. “They probably think it’ll be easy to overpower two old men.”

“Not if they’re the same ones who tried before,” Owen yelled.

Cade dug his heels into the sturdy gelding’s sides and let out a rebel yell he hoped would strike terror into the hearts of the attackers. Nate let loose a yell that sounded more like a Comanche war cry.

“Hold your fire for a moment,” Cade called out. They couldn’t hear any more shots. “Let’s hope we broke the
attack. Owen, you and Broc check the horses. We can’t afford to lose them. Nate, check for dead cows. I’ll check the house.”

“How about Pilar?” Owen asked.

“Holt and Ivan will look after her.”

“What do we do if we catch one of them?” Broc asked.

“Capture him alive,” Cade said. “I’d like to know who he’s working with and what their plans are.”