Wild Texas Rose (21 page)

Chapter 37

T
he sun was just setting when the three-wagon
caravan pulled into a small German settlement. Duncan stayed with the women and the supplies while Killian called on a friend he knew there. Along the main street of the town were small houses the Germans called Sunday houses. They were built by farm families to use when they came in for Sunday services that sometimes lasted all day. Only this time of year many of the homes were empty even on Sunday.

Killian came back with a key to one of the homes. He said his friend loaned it to him because the owners had gone to take their son back east to school. The little square house was sparsely furnished but neat and clean.

Duncan insisted Killian and his new bride take the main bedroom. The women took the one with small beds lining three of the walls and Duncan swore he’d be comfortable on the floor in the living space.

Everyone helped carry in the supplies needed for the night, but Victoria’s luggage was left in the wagon. Though officially married, she could now open everything, but by the time they made beds and cooked a stew she said she was too tired to look for the keys so there was no sense in hauling in luggage.

Right after they ate, Victoria unpacked her nightgown and a hairbrush from her small traveling bag and said she was going to sleep. To Duncan’s surprise, the princess didn’t complain much, but she ate little and that bothered him. Killian told him that she thought this mess was all her fault, but Duncan knew he’d have to take a share of the blame. Until they knew who followed, no one in the group would feel safe.

Killian paced the floor for a while trying to talk to everyone until finally he disappeared into the bedroom as well.

Hallie, Epley, and Rose said good night a few minutes later and suddenly Duncan was alone.

For a while he watched the fire and thought how nice the silence was. It seemed like he’d been listening to people talk every waking moment for days.

The women had insisted on giving him so many blankets his bed on the floor was way too soft to be comfortable. The pain in his arm and shoulder was only a dull ache now. If he could have had a few drinks of whiskey the pain would be completely gone. Duncan found it hard to believe that when Killian rounded up the box of supplies, he’d forgotten whiskey.

He leaned back and tried to figure out who would be the first of several bad guys to come at them. For tonight, at least, they were safe. The horses had been stabled in a community barn just behind where they were. There had been plenty of room for the wagons to be rolled in as well so everything was out of sight if someone did pass by. The doors were locked. No one knew where they were. For tonight all could sleep in peace.

But come tomorrow they’d be out in the open again. Killian’s friend had told him they could reach the train station in about eight hours, but it usually didn’t stop at the station until after six in the evening, so they’d have an easy day of driving to reach the train in time.

He finally fell asleep. The fire in the fireplace had burned low when he felt Rose slide against his side.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he whispered.

“I couldn’t sleep in there. Hallie snores.”

“What makes you think you can sleep with me, darlin’?”

“I always have. Shut up and go back to sleep.”

He moved closer. “First kiss me good night.”

“No. Stop teasing me.”

“I’m not teasing you. You’re not sleeping with me anymore, Rose, unless you kiss me good night. Half the time I figure you’re so mad at me you might kill me in my sleep. If we’re best friends, kiss me good night.”

“Oh, all right.” She rose to her elbow and kissed him on the cheek. “Now go to sleep.”

“As soon as I kiss you back.” Still half-asleep, he rolled against her and covered her mouth.

Duncan wasn’t sure what he expected. Maybe she’d hit him or yell at him, but what he hadn’t expected was for her to kiss him back. He felt like he’d stepped off into a raging waterfall and all his senses were exploding. She tasted like heaven and felt warm beneath him.

The kiss was great, but he shuddered suddenly as he realized she knew what she was doing. This was no innocent kiss. She’d practiced!

The flood of emotions flowing over him pulled him down until all reason, all thought stopped and the world revolved only for them.

When her tongue slid into his mouth, Duncan pulled back. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said, more angry at himself than her.

“Me? I’m trying to go to sleep. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Best friends don’t kiss like that.”

“Well, apparently they do, Duncan, because you just kissed me like that.”

“No, I was just following your lead. You were the one doing the kissing.” Duncan didn’t know whether to be angry or pleased. This was Rose he was still leaning on, and she felt so good beneath him. This was logical, sweet, never-exciting Rose.

“Go to sleep,” was all he could say as he turned away. He wasn’t about to tell her that after maybe a hundred samplings of girls’ kisses, he’d never had a reaction like the one he’d just had. If she’d gone any further, he might have self-combusted.

He was wide awake as she cuddled against his back. As always, she pulled the covers, wiggled for a while like a windmill spinning down, and finally went to sleep. Apparently the kiss hadn’t rocked her world as much as it had his. For all he knew she kissed every guy who came along that way. No, he corrected. If she did there would be men hanging out on the porch at Whispering Mountain.

Duncan wasn’t around women much, but he considered himself a man of the world. He’d fallen in love a few times, at least with the idea of love. He had spent some interesting evenings with the ladies.

But never, never, had anyone kissed him like Rose just did. Hell, he felt like a virgin who’d just been touched.

He spent the next hour wondering where Rose, who never went anywhere or did much of anything, would have learned to kiss like that. It didn’t seem to be something that a young lady would learn at finishing school, but she’d sure learned it somewhere.

Maybe he should go back and have a little talk with every man he’d sent to meet her. He should strangle whoever it was who taught her to do that kind of thing with her tongue.

Duncan swore. He could still taste her on his mouth. He’d probably starve before morning for another taste but there was little doubt in his mind that she’d shoot him if he rolled over and woke her for another sample.

He lay awake thinking that he’d have to kiss her again just to make sure it wasn’t the lingering drugs in his blood that had made him have the reaction. Slowly, he rolled over and studied her in the firelight. Sleeping a few inches away was the same practical Rose he’d known for twenty years. She’d bossed him around until he’d been half-grown and she’d worried about him every day since he’d signed on with the rangers. If she was his best friend, why’d she have to kiss him like that? Now friend wasn’t the first word that came to mind when he looked at her.

She took care of the family. She went to church every Sunday. She visited anyone in town who was sick and always baked for any fund-raiser. She didn’t have one bad habit. And, he now added to his mental list, she kissed with a passion that made a man forget to breathe.

Chapter 38

K
illian lay in bed a few inches away from Victoria
and waited. He knew neither of them could sleep, but he didn’t know what to say and he guessed she didn’t either. Finally, he whispered, “Are you sorry we married?”

“Are you?” she answered.

“No.”

“Me neither. I am sorry I got you into such a mess.”

“I’m not. If all this hadn’t happened I probably wouldn’t have gotten around to kissing you for years and you wouldn’t have asked me to marry you.”

She laughed. “Don’t tell our grandchildren that I asked you. They’ll think I was a very forward woman.”

Killian wanted to say they wouldn’t have to worry about that problem unless one of them got brave enough to move over six inches. He didn’t know if he could do it. She’d said she knew what went on between a husband and a wife, but he doubted she had any idea about the details. Somehow scaring her to death on their wedding night didn’t seem like a good plan.

He didn’t know much more about it, in truth. A few times, more out of curiosity than anything else, he’d visited a lady of the evening. Not a saloon girl who turned several men an hour in business but a nice place where the women were all dressed like ladies when they answered the door.

He’d paid a half month’s pay to go in such a place in Houston while he was studying to be a lawyer. A woman ten years older than him had taken him into a parlor and talked to him real nice while she brushed her hand along his leg. Then, after he’d finished off a few drinks, she’d taken him upstairs and, without turning up a lamp, told him to remove his clothes. When he’d done what she’d asked, he turned and found her in bed waiting.

What happened next had been so fast he wasn’t sure he could remember it all. She’d pretty much done all the work and he’d cooperated. When he finished, she said, “That was nice,” like he’d just kissed her cheek.

He lay there among all her pillows and lacy sheets while she slipped out of bed and dressed. She did it slow, letting him watch, letting him see all of her. Maybe she wanted to make sure he got his money’s worth. He remembered thinking that she’d had a nice body and he’d wished he had thought to feel of it, but once she dressed she left him alone.

Killian thought of that time in Houston. It had been nice, he still thought, but it hadn’t been what he wanted. He’d wanted more, much more than he could get from a woman that he paid by the hour.

Victoria had given him that in a way. Not physical but mental. She’d made him laugh and think and dream. He knew she was spoiled, but there was a tenderness about her. She made him think that he was worth something. She made him want to try harder and learn more.

“Are you asleep?” She broke into his thoughts.

“No.” He smiled, thinking how strange it was to lie so close to her in the dark.

“You want to play a game?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, close your eyes.”

“Victoria, it’s pitch black in here.”

“Close your eyes.”

“All right. They’re closed.”

“Hold your hand up.”

He lifted his hand off the covers, having no idea what she was doing, but he knew she loved games. Once, when they’d walked in the cemetery, she’d tried out every name on headstones to see how each fit with Victoria. They’d made a game of trying to find the best one.

He jerked slightly when he felt her hand touch his.

“What do you feel, Killian?”

“Your hand.” He closed his hand around her slender fingers. “It’s a very nice hand.”

She replaced her hand with her hair. “And now?”

“The end of your braid.”

He waited. After the bed shifted a few times, he felt her put her bare arm in his hand. “I’m guessing that must be your elbow, Victoria.”

“Brilliant. You’ve now touched the prettiest part of me and the ugliest. All the rest is somewhere in between my terribly wrinkly elbow and my beautiful hair.”

“What are you saying, Victoria? I don’t understand the game.”

“What did you touch, Killian?”

“Your hand, your—”

“No. Who did you touch, Killian?”

“You.”

“And, who am I?”

“Victoria.” He stopped, suddenly understanding. “My wife.”

She laughed. “That’s right. I’m your wife. Now that you’ve touched the prettiest part of me and the ugliest, might you be interested in touching the rest?”

He grinned. “I’d like that very much.”

With one simple game, Killian began a journey of knowing his wife, which he figured would take him a lifetime to complete.

Chapter 39

A
be Henderson and Stitch took until midafter
noon to reach the first stop on the train’s route, but they knew they’d caught their first break.

The train that had pulled out of Fort Worth at midnight was sitting on the tracks, still waiting for a report from the team of workers sent out to fix a broken spot on the rails.

Stitch stayed back with the wagon while Abe visited with the conductor.

“What’s the problem?” Abe asked as he offered his flask of whiskey to the conductor.

“Thanks,” the chubby man said. “It’s been one hell of a night. We thought we’d only have a few hours’ delay, but something must be wrong. The crew searched all night and couldn’t find a thing broken on the tracks. They’re running one final check now. We should be under way soon.”

“What made you think there was a break?” Abe acted like he took a drink and passed the flask back.

“Had a telegram waiting for us when we stopped here. Now the office in Fort Worth thinks it might have been a false report, though why anyone would want to stop an empty train in the middle of nowhere is beyond me.”

“Guess someone just wanted to waste your time.”

“I guess. Last night I thought those people who rented wagons and headed out were crazy, but now it seems they may have been smart.”

Abe raised an eyebrow as if he didn’t believe the conductor. “Folks left a perfectly good train and took wagons?”

“Sure, a couple of men and four women. We helped them load everything up and they headed south like they thought they could make it by wagon before we’d get to the next stop.”

He looked down the tracks. “Who knows, maybe they will. Until we get permission to move we ain’t even in the race.”

Abe spent a few more minutes talking as he watched Stitch drive over to the livery and trade for fresh horses. When he joined the big man, Stitch grinned. “You did good, shopkeeper. I don’t think a detective could have done it any smoother.”

“I read a lot of books.” Abe shrugged. “And my favorites are mysteries.”

Stitch headed south. “The boy at the livery told me his boss woke him up last night to hitch up three wagons. He said one of the men crawled in the back of the first wagon like he was hurt.”

Looking out over the endless land, Abe shook his head. “How are we ever going to find them in time? Whoever delayed this train will be on the next one rolling through and they’ll have horses that can travel much faster.”

“But they won’t have me,” Stitch said as he slowed the team at the first fork, surveyed the ground, and then slapped them into a fast pace. “I ever tell you what I did on the frontier? I was a tracker. I picked out the markings on the last wheels to roll out of the barn and I’ll follow them true.”

By nightfall Stitch found a camp where the three wagons had pulled off along with several others. A few hours later, he spotted another site where they’d stopped to rest. While Abe watered the horses, Stitch brushed the place where the three wagons turned south and left the trail where tracks led off to the north. It wouldn’t fool an expert tracker, but maybe it would fool men riding fast on horseback.

They didn’t take time to build a fire but instead just ate the jerky Abe had packed along with apples and mason jars of water.

“Why’d you pack the whiskey, Henderson? I didn’t know you to be a drinker.”

“You been watching me?” Abe asked.

“No more than I watch everyone,” Stitch answered.

Abe accepted his answer. “You’re right, I’m not a drinker. Always saw it as a waste of money. I brought the whiskey ’cause I thought it might help with the pain in my leg. I’m used to standing on my feet but not moving around without something to brace my bad leg on. I figured it’d start giving me problems within a few hours.”

“Does it?”

“Haven’t had to use it yet. Funny, the worry about how it might hurt was worse than the ache.”

Stitch nodded but didn’t say more. Like Abe, he wasn’t a man used to conversations. As soon as the horses were rested, Stitch moved on with tumbleweeds tied onto the back of his wagon to dust away any hint of what direction they were traveling.

Through the night both men took turns resting in the back. The sun was up when they pulled into a small German settlement. The tracks they’d been following since yesterday blended with others on the wide road into town.

“I’ve heard the Germans build their main roads wide enough to turn a team, but I’ve never seen it.”

“You don’t travel much?” Stitch asked.

“I don’t travel at all.”

As they moved closer to the stores, Stitch added, “Might want to think about marrying that little teacher and spending some time seeing the country.”

Abe nodded, but he didn’t seem to be listening. He was looking for a business that was open early. He spotted one and pointed.

Stitch pulled the team to a stop.

“I’ll go see what I can find out,” Abe said as he lifted his cane from the side of the wagon and walked toward the neat row of stores.

“I’ll stay out of sight. Maybe I’ll go over to the barn and see if I can’t buy enough feed for the horses. They could use a rubdown and some rest before we push on.” Stitch didn’t wait for Abe to answer. He wasn’t asking permission, just stating a fact.

The day was still early and the nearest barn he saw was over by a beautiful little church. He pulled his wagon around to the back and found all he needed on a workbench near the corral. Even though his bones ached from the endless ride, he wanted to take care of the horses first. No one seemed around, so he turned the horses loose in the corral and went to work on them one at a time.

Twenty minutes later he was cleaning one of the hooves when he heard the front door of the barn open. From the length of the shadowy barn he saw a woman slip in and move over to where several wagons looked like they’d been stored.

One at a time she began to look under heavy tarps.

Stitch set down the tools he’d been using and moved into the shadows. He didn’t want her to spy him standing in the sun. He was frightening enough in poor light.

With a little squeal, she pulled one trunk out of a wagon and tumbled backward from the load.

Stitch ran to help. “You all right?” he shouted halfway to her.

The woman scrambled to her feet and reached in the wagon. Stitch stopped as she swung a rifle at him.

“Get back or I’ll shoot,” she said in a shaking voice. “I know how to use this.”

Stitch kept his head low. “I wasn’t going to attack you, honey, just making sure you weren’t hurt.”

“Shawn?” she whispered, sounding even more frightened than before. “Now am I seeing a ghost? I must be going mad.”

He didn’t know what to say. The truth seemed his only option. “I’m no ghost. I just followed you and Killian to make sure you were safe. A man named Myers and two lowlife men who look real mean are on your trail. If they reach you, I plan to be here to help. I swear, honey, I didn’t come to hurt you.”

She lowered the rifle. “Who are you, really?”

“I’m Killian’s brother. That much is true, but I’m not a ghost.”

“Why don’t you look at me? Why didn’t you tell Killian you were still alive? How could you let him believe you were dead?”

Stitch felt her questions hit him like blows. She was right, he should have told Killian. He used the only defense he could use. “I’m not that easy to look at, honey. I’d frighten you if you saw my face. I thought it would be easier for Killian if I just stayed in the shadows where I belong.”

He didn’t look up, but he heard her moving toward him. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and she was about to see just how ugly he was.

Stitch turned to move away, but she caught his hand. He could have shoved her back. He could have run, but something deep inside him told him it was time to stop running.

“Shawn?” She whispered his real name as her free hand cupped the side of his face. “Shawn, my ghost, my friend, my husband’s brother.”

He looked up and met her stare. She wasn’t shocked or frightened. He felt her fingers move along his cheek.

“So many canyons, so many cuts. I can almost feel the pain you must have had to bear.”

Stitch closed his eyes, forcing himself to let her touch him when all he wanted to do in this world was hide away. Only he couldn’t. They were in danger, and deep down he knew if they died, he’d die inside.

Finally, she let her hand drop. “I’m glad you’re not a ghost. Killian will be very happy. He never let you go, you know, not even when everyone told him over and over that you were dead.”

“I know.”

Like a butterfly, her mind flew on. “Oh, Shawn, I’m glad you’re here. Can you help me carry this trunk? It seems to have broken open when I fell. I want to wear a new dress today. After all, I’m a married lady. I know just the one I have to put on this morning. Nothing too frilly, we’re still on the road, you know, but something in yellow. Killian’s favorite color is yellow.”

Stitch smiled. “I didn’t know.” He helped her pack up her things. When he picked up the trunk and lifted it on his shoulder, he thought it far heavier than a normal case. No wonder it had broken the lock and come open, she’d packed far too much inside.

“That’s odd,” Victoria said as if he’d missed something important in life. “What’s your favorite color, Shawn?”

He didn’t answer. In almost forty years of life he’d never thought about it.

Victoria tugged his free arm along toward a little house. “You know, Shawn, what color do you look best in? That’s usually what people think of as their favorite.”

“Shadows,” he finally answered.

Victoria laughed. “That’s not a color. I’ll have to think about it, but I’ll let you know. It’s important for a man to wear a touch of color.”

Stitch smiled. He could see why Killian loved this woman. There was something childlike about her and wise at the same time. Five minutes after meeting him she was more concerned about what color he wore than about how he’d frighten most of the people he met half to death. They’d talked about his scarred face and now it was time to talk about something else.