This Loving Land (8 page)

Ellen’s face burned with anger “That’s ridiculous, and you know it. Travis may be a little wild, but that’s all. Scott was wild as a deer when 1 married him, and Travis takes after him. Sam was always the steady one, the dull one, just like Slater.” Contempt crept into her voice. “Travis will settle down when he has a wife.”

“And you have someone in mind.”

“Of course. Summer. It was a godsend for her to come back. She comes from good stock, and will make a perfect wife for Travis. And she’ll not come into the family empty-handed, either. That strip of land of hers will make the Rocking S one of the largest holdings in Texas.”

Jesse’s voice was quiet, deep and abrupt. “You can’t be foolish enough to think Slater improved on that claim and brought that girl out here to stand aside and let her marry Travis.”

“I don’t know what he can do about it.”

“He can marry her himself, Ellen. So you better not get your heart set on the match.”

“That’s the one thing I am sure of, Jesse. Slater will never marry Summer.” Ellen glanced at him, a strange, mysterious smile tilting her lips.

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“I’m sure,” she said confidently. “Slater may take up with the dance-hall trollop. Women are scarce, and she may appeal to his rude nature.” She let her hand slide down the inside of Jesse’s arm. “I know you were merely being chivalrous this morning, dear, but it wasn’t necessary. A woman like that is used to that sort of thing.” She smiled with disarming gentleness. “I’m sorry for my jealous little comments. It’s . . . it’s just that I depend on you so. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jesse.”

Ellen could not remember a time when Jesse had not responded to her coaxing. He sat as if made of stone. There was not even a flicker of an eyelid to betray what he was feeling at the moment. It was impossible to tell if he had even heard her words, or if he was feeling anger, surprise or resignation.

It wasn’t any of these things Jesse was feeling. It was something else altogether. Something he hadn’t felt for a long time. An emptiness flowed through him. Memory stirred, painfully, uncertainly, as the buggy traversed the lower slopes of the hill country. His childhood hovered, half-imagined, half-remembered. It was way back there, that childhood, but still familiar enough to imbue his stern face with a terrible loneliness. The inevitable waiting! The waiting was what he remembered the most. Waiting in that unloving, uncaring place.

It had taken a long time. And then Ellen had come, so pretty, so gentle and caring. His features relaxed for a moment, then tightened. The interval between the home and coming out here with Ellen had not been easy. The hardest, dirtiest jobs for scraps of food were freshest in his mind. “Kid do this . . . hurry up, kid . . . you goddam kid . . .” One day, he was no longer a kid, and the orders stopped.

He looked down at Ellen, and his steely-gray eyes lost the haunted look and stared with affection into hers. She began to smile, her flushed face and quivering mouth betraying only too well that she was aware she had been excluded from his thoughts, but that now his attention was back with her once again.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jesse,” she said again, and tears misted her eyes.

He covered her hand and squeezed it.

Far ahead of the buggy, two horsemen rode out of the gully. Travis was in the lead, Tom Treloar close behind. Tom was a thick-set man, with a thick bush of gray hair on his face as well as his head. It was he who had stepped on Travis’s arm and saved his life. He had no doubt at all that Jesse would have killed him had he drawn his gun. Jesse’s reaction would have been as natural as breathing. To Tom’s way of thinking, it was going to come sooner or later, anyway, as Jesse had about got his craw full of this brainless excuse for a man.

They were only a few miles from the Rocking S. The shadows stretched from the hills. Travis reined up and stared down at the buggy coming along the track, and mopped sweat from his face. His shirt was sticky and uncomfortable, and the throbbing of his split lips was a constant reminder of the humiliation he had suffered that morning. He edged his mount closer to Tom’s and spoke for the first time.

“Don’t interfere in my fight again, Tom, if you want to live.”

The drover’s face showed no emotion as Travis voiced his threat.

“He’d a killed ya slicker than snot, Travis. Ya was in no position to fight.”

Irritation mounted in Travis, stifling his own doubt. “He’s not so all-fired fast!”

“Fast enough,” Tom said quietly, “with you on the ground.”

Travis was shrewd enough to know Tom was right. He had hated Jesse since the day his mother had brought him to the ranch, an eighteen-year-old who was almost as much of a man then as he was now. At first, he hadn’t understood the relationship between his mother and the man who gradually took over the running of the ranch, but he was almost certain now. Well, if Mama needed a stud, it made no difference to him. Mama could open her legs for anyone she wanted to. It was other things that bothered him. Such as Mama having joint control of the ranch until he turned twenty-six. His face darkened with anger, his lips twisted in a sneer of contempt. It wouldn’t be long now, and he would settle with Jesse. He stewed in selfsatisfaction. They would all find out, soon enough, who was the best man. Irritation mounted within him. The frustrating truth rang in his head and pounded in the sour pit of his stomach, feeding his hatred.

“No!” he muttered fiercely.

The sun was still above the hilltops when the buggy turned up the lane toward the house. Rising out of the prairie, the two-story, white-frame house was a splendid example of eighteenth-century architecture. Built square and high off the ground to catch the breeze, it had wide, railed verandas, with roofs supported by graceful columns decorated with elaborately carved cornices. Long windows opened up onto the verandas on both the lower and upper floors. Stained-glass panes adorned the upper part of the windows as well as the doors. A drive curved through carefully tended grounds to reach the broad steps leading to the veranda. The elegant house looked as if it belonged on a shaded street in exclusive New Orleans rather than on the Texas prairie.

Realizing he was home, the horse pulling the buggy stepped briskly up the circled drive and stopped beside the gate. Jesse handed Ellen down from the buggy as a black man in a white shirt and loose black trousers came out onto the porch and down the steps to take Ellen’s boxes from the boot.

“Hello, Jacob.”

“It’s good you is back, Miz Ellen.” The dark face beamed as he leaped to hold open the door. “Y’all got the army men a camped back yonder. Ah ‘spects da cap’n done come ter see Mastah Jesse.”

“Company? You said company, Jacob?”

“Yes’m. Cap’n Slane.”

“Go down and invite the captain to dinner, Jacob.” Her face wreathed in smiles, Ellen started up the stairs, then stopped. “Jacob . . .”

“Pears ta me ah can smell me a big ol’ turkey a roastin’, ’n if’n ah smell real good, dem pecan pies is coolin’ by da door.” Jacob rolled his eyes and chuckled.

Ellen laughed with velvety softness and watched him bask beneath her fond gaze.

“I should have known. You’re just a wonder, Jacob, that’s what you are, a wonder!” Halfway up the stairs she turned again, “Jacob . . .”

“De hot watta is on de way, Miz Ellen.”

It was good to be home. Jesse had come to like the quiet elegance of the house, the carefully prepared meals served on the white cloth, but he knew it was temporary. He had no doubt his future here was over the moment Travis took over. In that one thing, he had been a failure. It was Ellen’s greatest wish that he make a man of Travis, and he had failed. Nothing he could do was going to change Travis in the least. He was hell-bent for destruction and he, Jesse, was determined not to go along with him.

Ellen was beautiful that evening in her plum-colored muslin gown with a high neckband and long, fitted sleeves. The narrow bodice was pert and pleasing on her slender figure. Jesse watched her charm the captain. The gentle, smooth tone of her voice and the radiance of her smile affected the captain so much that he was scarcely aware of what he was being served.

Captain Kenneth Slane was ten years out of West Point. He was one of the officers sent by the army in 1848 to establish a cordon of eight frontier forts about sixty miles apart, across Texas from the Rio Grande northwest to the upper Trinity River, to protect the settlements to the east from Indian raids from the west. The town of Hamilton spread around Fort Croghan, one of the forts in this cordon. The fort guarded the northwestern approach to Austin, the state capital. Captain Slane was in charge of Company A, Second Dragoons, stationed at the fort.

Light conversation halted as the last course was served. The dessert was pecan pie topped with a generous helping of cream flavored with sherry sauce. Ellen beamed approvingly at Jacob, who hovered in the doorway until his mistress signaled. When the talk resumed after coffee, she could no longer resist broaching the subject that challenged her curiosity.

“What brings you out from the fort, captain? Whatever it is, we are indeed grateful for your company.”

“Thank you, ma’am. My reason for being with the troops is such an unpleasant thing to discuss in a lady’s presence, but the truth is, I am making a tour. The policing of the territory has been shifted to the army now that the Texas Rangers have been moved out. In the last few months, almost one hundred settlers have been killed and scalped between here and Fredericksburg. My outriders and scouts are watching various scattered bands of Apaches in the hills. I mean to come to grips with them and determine their strength.”

“Slater McLean had a run-in with mountain Apaches a few days ago.” Jesse’s eyes searched those of the captain. He was curious, and suddenly aware there was more to the expedition than the captain’s answer implied. “They were a ragtailed outfit, and Slater had to kill half a dozen of them. He said they were a wild bunch, without leadership.”

“Oh, my!” Ellen looked from Travis to Jesse, her eyes large and questioning. “Why didn’t you tell me? I never gave a thought to Indians today.”

“You wasn’t supposed to,” Jesse said softly. “Tom and Travis were scouting ahead, and we had the drovers.”

“Did you see any sign of Indians, Travis?” Ellen was attempting to draw her silent, sullen son into the conversation.

“Wasn’t looking for any.” There was an edge of sarcasm in his tone. “I doubt it would take a company of cavalry to flush out a few half-starved Indians.”

Captain Slane flushed a little. “My platoon could hardly be considered a company.” His voice was dry, but when he turned to his hostess his face was clear of anything but polite admiration.

Nothing like a bright smile to cover an awkward moment—Ellen turned the full force of her attention on the captain. She glided to her feet.

“Perhaps you gentlemen would rather retire to the parlor for cigars and brandy,” she suggested cordially.

She allowed the captain to escort her across the hall. They paused briefly to watch Travis stride purposefully out the front door, without a word or backward glance.

“You must excuse my son, captain. He’s not in the best of moods these days.” There was a whiteness around her tense lips that did not go unnoticed by the captain.

On previous visits, Kenneth Slane had been able to converse with Travis, still, he didn’t consider him to be much but lazy and irresponsible. This beautiful, gracious woman had been short-changed where her son was concerned, though blessed in having a man like Jesse for a foreman. He wondered if the rumor that they were lovers was true. Jesse was fond of her, it was certain, and he couldn’t blame him. No, sir, Ellen McLean was a beautiful woman, and if he was any judge, a passionate one.

It was much later when the captain got a chance to speak with Jesse alone. They walked down the trail to where the platoon was bivouacked.

“A week ago, an army caravan was ambushed, twelve men were killed. It just so happened it wasn’t the pay wagon or one carrying weapons. The wagons were ransacked and clothing and food taken.”

Instinctively, Jesse knew this wasn’t all the captain had to say, so he waited.

“It was meant to look like an Indian raid. One dead Apache was left behind and several dead horses. I’ve never known of Apaches leaving their dead, and I know for certain they don’t kill horses unless there’s no other way. The four horses were deliberately shot in the head.”

“Don’t appear to me it was Apaches.”

“My scouts swear it wasn’t, but I’m keeping it under my hat for the time being.”

“According to Slater, the bunch he ran into couldn’t have whipped their way out of a tow-sack. He picked off most of them himself. Said they were disorganized and hopped up on loco-weed or whiskey. He wouldn’t a killed a one of them if he could have helped it.” Jesse stopped and lit a smoke. “Good man, Slater, he’ll meet you half way to be decent. But he don’t take no shit.”

“I’ve heard that about him. I’ll be going his way in a few weeks. I’d appreciate your company; that is, if Mrs. McLean can spare you.”

“I’d like that. Thanks for asking me. There’s more here than meets the eye.”

They stopped on the trail, the familiar sounds of the encampment reaching them: clinking of pans, low masculine voices, blowing and stamping of tethered horses.

“I hear a mighty good-looking woman came in on the stage and went out to McLean’s Keep. Slater import himself a bride?”

“Well,” Jesse answered carefully, “I don’t know if it’ll come to that. The girl and her brother own the claim across the creek from Slater. It seems her mother filed on it, and Sam and Slater improved on it for her. It’s the strip that runs between McLean’s Keep and the Rockin’ S.”

“Interesting,” Captain Slane said slowly. “I’m anxious to meet the lady.” He started to say more, but stopped. His sharp eyes were peering into the darkness behind Jesse. “We’ll be pulling out early. I’ll say goodbye, Jesse. It was an enjoyable evening.”

“Goodnight, captain. Send word when you’re ready to patrol south.”

Jesse turned up the trail. The shine from a silver beltbuckle caught his eye. Travis, obviously listening. Jesse pinched out his cigarette and, flipping it toward the glint in the darkness, went back toward the house.