Threads of Change (16 page)

“I … never saw him approach. I opened my eyes and he was so close. He …
touched me
.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“I’m not hurt. I’m … frightened.”

The large man reached them, and he picked up her dress from the rocks, looking away as he handed it to her. He turned his back on the women before glancing over to the wooded area where the braves disappeared.

“You scared them off, Mrs. Bromont. I think they thought you were some water goddess or something.” He chuckled. “Wait till Tex hears about this. It’s a good thing someone didn’t get stupid and try to shoot one of them young boys. If we’re lucky, they might be so shaken they won’t even tell anyone.”

Liz quickly regained her composure and pulled the wet hair from the back of her dress. She looked to Megan with a questioning expression. “Who is this?”

Megan quickly spoke up. “Jackson, you may turn around and meet my sister, Elizabeth Bromont.”

Jackson faced her with one foot on a large rock, his Colt revolver still in hand. When he spotted her staring at the gun, he shoved it into the holster on his leg.

“Mrs. Bromont, good to meet you alive. Let’s get back to camp and you can get acquainted with the others.”

Megan took hold of the introductions once they returned. “Tex, I would like for you to meet my sister, Mrs. Caleb Bromont.”

Liz stepped toward the aging cowboy. She liked what she saw in him. She saw both wisdom and sadness in his features, and she particularly liked his eyes. He had wrinkles at the corners when he smiled at her, and he took her hand in a hearty handshake. His spurs jingled as he took a step.

“Tex, it’s good to finally catch up with you,” she said. “Forgive our appearance as we were not expecting Rangers—or Indians, for that matter—today.”

“Indians,” Blue piped up.

“Just a couple of young braves down at the river,” Jackson explained.

“Indians!” Abby cried. “Liz, are you all right?”

She nodded, and Jackson continued. “Scared her more than anything, I’d say. But they hightailed it outta there. Mrs. Bromont, this is Tex, and that young’un over there is Colt. We’re Texas Rangers, here to get you all safely to Fort Worth in a few days.”

“We are very grateful.”

“I hear you’ve lost some of the others in your group,” Tex spoke up.

“Yes.”

“It happens more often than you might imagine that groups get split along the trail,” he reassured her. “They know where you are headed, so that’s good, at least. We’ll keep an eye out for them.”

“Thank you, Mister Tex,” she said as she stumbled with his name.

“Tex is fine, Mrs. Bromont.”

Elizabeth nodded to him and smiled. When she inched toward the campfire to dry and braid her hair, her sister and cousins followed.

Evening came and Liz found herself fireside nursing the evening embers, unable to sleep. Tex strolled over to join her and sat down across from her atop a log.

“Colt’s on guard duty, Mrs. Bromont. You don’t have to stay up.”

Liz sipped her tea and nodded. “Call me Liz.”

“Can’t sleep, Miss Liz?” he asked.

“It seems to be a problem that I’ve acquired.”

Tex took out a thin paper and held it gently in his left hand. He reached into his shirt pocket and produced a pouch of tobacco. He tapped a little of it onto the paper. After he’d rolled it into a thin cylinder, he ran it under his nose and inhaled its pungent aroma.

“What’s it like being a lawman?” she asked him. “Do you ever wish you could just stay put somewhere?”

Tex picked up a small twig and placed it at the edge of the fire to ignite it. He used the burning twig to light the end of his cigarette. He inhaled a big breath from the tobacco and exhaled a smoke ring that floated up before he replied. “Not much difference in a lawman or an outlaw, Miss. They both stay on the move. The lawman dies with honor, and the outlaw just dies.”

“I’m so anxious to get settled again. This much time on the road is more than enough for me.”

Tex sat quietly and smoked his cigarette until it grew smaller. He looked at the end of it and moved his tanned fingers closer to the unlit end. “I had a family once, a good woman and four girls with golden curls, something like yours. We had a little ranch, too.”

His words trailed off, and Tex remained silent for a while as Liz sat wondering about this man and his sorrow.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she stated in an effort to provide sincere comfort.

“Oh, don’t feel sorry for me. It’s my fault that I don’t have them and the ranch. I’m an old cowboy. I’ve paid for my choices.”

“What do you mean? I thought they were dead.”

“One day, I just got on my horse and rode off, Miss Liz. I didn’t mean to leave … I just never went back, and I never sent word. The pull of the West got to me. Once I realized I wanted to go back, it was too late. I returned to find my girls almost grown and life had moved along. Allie remarried after they felt sure I was dead. I decided to leave them with that memory.”

Liz watched and listened to his story. Tex’s cigarette glowed as he dragged on it, sparking pretty red ambers as it bounced from a rock at the fire’s edge. His tanned, wrinkled face covered with at least two days of stubble grew serious under the shadow of his memories. He rubbed his shoulder and made a small moan. He then stretched out his legs, his boots daringly close to the flame as he drew one last puff and flicked the butt of his cigarette into the fire.

“Are you hurt? I have some ointment that might help,” Liz offered the aging cowboy.

“Thank you, I’m fine. Just an old wound from breaking a stubborn mustang a few years back.”

Liz looked back to the fire.

“Rain comin’ in, it seems. My shoulder knows.” Tex frowned at Liz as he added, “Sorry about the loss of your mister. You know for sure he is dead?”

What a strange question
, she thought. But maybe not so strange considering his own life experience.

“Many of the workers witnessed the accident,” she answered quietly. “You know, I’m suddenly feeling worn out. I think I’ll head off to get some sleep.”

“‘Night, Miss Liz.”

“Goodnight, Tex.”

On her way toward the wagon, Liz noticed lightning in the distance. A few seconds later, a soft rumble sounded from behind the clouds.

The moon had turned full again, and the clouds in the distance brimmed with striking power. Thomas and Chet had only stopped for a few minutes to stretch their legs and give their ponies a break, and then decided to continue on since the moon had ignited the path without the clouds blocking it.

Thomas figured a little of Chet’s optimism about meeting up with the Mailly women and their wagons had begun to wear off on him when he considered it might be possible for them to see the light from a campfire if one burned off in the distance. Chet seemed certain that they had to be near. Thomas wanted to believe that as well.

As they sat atop a hill aided by the light of the reflective moon, Thomas could almost peer into the night’s vastness. He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out his rain slicker when a gust blew in, and Chet looked up at the sky, pushing his cowboy hat down tighter on his head while reaching for his coat.

“It’s just a few clouds. Let’s keep riding,” Thomas said to Chet as he surveyed the sky again.

Chet agreed and quickly mounted his pony.

They rode toward the illuminated clouds, looking for any sign of a camp beneath a sky that rumbled like a low drum. When the clouds lit up again, Thomas spotted a small trail of smoke circling up to the night sky. He looked over at Chet in the hope that his friend had seen it, too, and they both leaned forward and spurred their mares into a full gallop as the raindrops began to drop hard, like weighted metal balls.

Thomas slowed his animal as they got closer to camp, diffusing his excitement to see Liz again with a stern warning to himself about frightening her and the other women by barreling into camp. Chet took his cue and slowed his pony as well.

“Be on the lookout for a guard. We don’t want to spook John or Blue as we approach.”

“Good thinkin’,” Chet replied.

They could see into camp now and saw John, Blue, and three others, all of them with their guns raised. They stepped down from the horses and called out as they approached the outer ring of camp.

“John! Blue!” Thomas called out from the morning darkness. “We’re a-comin’ in.”

“It’s them!” John announced.

The strangers lowered their weapons and stepped out into the open as Thomas and Chet approached them with damp rain slickers and hearty smiles.

“Who are these fellas?” Chet asked, eyeing the oldest of the three strangers.

“Texas Rangers,” Blue told them.

They exchanged introductions, handshakes, and firm slaps on the back as the group welcomed each other.

“Thomas!” Luke hollered as he climbed from the wagon and ran to greet him.

Luke and his dog reached the weary travelers at the same time, nearly knocking Thomas right off his feet.

“It’s good to see you, Thomas! What happened? Where have you been? We had a tornado, and Mom got herself a black eye.”

John and Blue laughed over Luke’s excitement and quick summary of the trip. Thomas ruffled Luke’s bed hair and laid his hand over his shoulder. “It sure is good to see you, Luke.”

“Thomas! Oh, gracious! Thomas, is that you?”

He looked up to find Liz, awakened by all the commotion, hurrying toward them.

“It’s me, Liz. I found you!”

Liz ran into Thomas’s open arms and threw her own arms around his neck and held him so tight the breath knocked out of his lungs. As Thomas wrapped her around the waist and pulled her closer to him, Liz started to cry.

“I was beginning to worry, Thomas. We didn’t know where you were.”

Wiping her eyes, Liz’s cheeks turned dark pink as she pulled away and gave Chet a clumsy embrace.

“I can’t believe you made it back to us. Are you both all right?”

“Yes, Miss Liz,” Chet replied. “We’re both fine, just very tired.”

“Is the coffee on?” Thomas asked.

The group moved toward the fire, and Liz began to pour the coffee. As the sun rose in the east, Emma, Megan, and Abby joyfully joined the gathering to help the exchange of stories and began to piece the puzzle together on how they had lost each other for so long.

“Then the storm came and erased all the tracks and chances of us following you,” Chet added at last.

“Guessing you went too far south while the others went west,” Jackson surmised.

“Miss Emma, I sure wish you could have sewn me up.” Chet pulled his thick, long hair away from his forehead, revealing his healing—but still wide—gash atop his forehead.

Emma stood and moved close to inspect the cut. She placed her hand on his chin to tilt his head toward the early light for a better look.

“Yes,” Emma said confidently. “I believe I could have helped more with the scarring. At least it’s close to your hairline. It can’t be seen, really.”

“What luck!” Chet said.

Emma let his hair fall back over the cut and regarded her patient thoughtfully.

“Chet, are you certain that you’re well? I’m not so sure.” She placed the back of her hand to his forehead again to feel for a fever.

“Nothin’ wrong with me that seeing you again can’t cure, Miss Emma.”

As the morning sun came up, the group continued talking about all they had encountered since they had last seen each other. Thomas was a happy man as he sat next to Liz, and he noted that she seemed perfectly at ease with him. It felt good to be together. Luke sat on the other side of Thomas, and he thought that, to someone who didn’t know any better, it might look like a gathering of family as Thomas sat with his arm along the back of Liz, resting on the wagon wheel.

Maybe it’s a picture of things to come
, he mused.

If Liz agreed to marry him, Thomas might actually get that family he’d been wishing for so long. Maybe he and Liz and Luke could settle in Fort Worth together.

Thomas couldn’t help the smile that cut his face in two. It sure wasn’t like him to think such optimistic thoughts all at one time.

I guess Chet really did wear off on me a bit
.