The Alamo Bride

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  “Yes, but I have more important work here.”

  Ellis snuggled into his embrace. “Again, thank you.”

  “You may not thank me when you hear what I have done,” he told her.

  Ellis gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

  “I have sent your mother and the boys to New Orleans. They left this morning.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Ellis said with a gasp as she nearly stumbled backward into the porch railing. “That is …” Words failed. Finally she managed, “Impossible,” on an exhale of breath.

  Grandfather Valmont caught her and chuckled. “No, I didn’t suppose you would, but it is true. You see, Sophie confided something in me that I am now going to share with you. It is the substance of the conversation we had last week when I came to see the injured soldier for myself. Do you remember when we left to converse alone over coffee?”

  “Vaguely,” Ellis said. What could possibly have convinced Mama to leave Texas? Not now. Not with Papa and Thomas not yet returned from the skirmish at Goliad. “Is this some secret I am supposed to keep?”

  “Hardly,” he said, “though I suppose it has been a secret your mother kept until she admitted it to me. You see, there is to be a new addition to the Valmont family in the spring.”

  The breath went out of her. “Oh.”

  Then came the realization of what he said. Of what he meant. Of why Mama sent her over to attend the birth of Lyla and Jonah’s child.

  She wanted to give her experience in case she was called on to attend Mama’s birth. Ellis shook her head. “Mama is going to have a baby?”

  His smile was broad and quick. “She is.”

  Then another thought occurred. “Does Papa know? That is, did he know before he left?”

  “He did not, nor did your mother realize her condition then,” Grandfather Valmont said. “Else I doubt very much that he would have gone off and left Sophie here to take care of you children and the farm alone, even for the cause of his beloved Texas.”

  That did make sense. Mama leaving Texas did as well. Life had not been easy since Papa and Thomas left, and war was a constant worry.

  Still, Ellis found it hard to believe, especially at Mama’s age. And Papa was surely close to forty by now, wasn’t he?

  When she told her grandfather that, he chuckled. “Take my advice and do not mention her advanced age when you next speak to your mama. A simple word of congratulations will do nicely.”

  Ellis leaned against the porch railing and looked out on the property that unfolded before her. “I still don’t see how you got Mama to go so easily and so quickly.”

  “She’s known for a while that I have been determined to get my family out of Texas to safety in New Orleans until this war is over. We’ve fought right here in Velasco just a few years ago, and I think we will soon be fighting here again, so when Sophie confided in me about the baby, I knew this was God’s way of giving an old man an answer to his prayers.”

  Ellis shook her head. “How did you manage it, though? Mama can be a bit …” She shrugged. “Well, stubborn.”

  “I’m a shipbuilder, child. I know every vessel that goes in and out of here, what kind they are and where they’re going. When Sophie and the little ones arrived at my home with Mr. Jim, I figured this was my chance, so I booked passage for her before she ever knew what was happening. Then I told her about it and dared her to tell me that my son wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

  “And she couldn’t deny it.”

  “She certainly could not, but your mother drove a hard bargain. There were conditions to her getting on that steamboat this morning.”

  “Oh, I am sure there were,” Ellis said as she tried to take hold of the idea that Mama and the boys were gone from Texas.

  “She wants the trunk with Maribel’s books in it, as well as a list of other things.” He looked down at her and patted his jacket pocket. “I have the list here, and together we can gather everything up. Her most important condition, however, is that I make certain you also relocate to New Orleans until your father and brother return. I assured her that Mr. Jim’s daughter had already agreed to act as chaperone for your trip. You remember Rosalie, don’t you?”

  “Yes, she is a very nice lady, but I assumed I would …” She shook her head. “Actually I hadn’t thought what I would do if Mama wasn’t here, because I cannot imagine what that is even like. This is my home, but I wouldn’t mind coming to stay with you until Papa and Thomas come home.”

  “Let your aunts spoil you in New Orleans, child. You’ll be the belle of every ball and you’ll very much enjoy it. Mr. Jim and I will see to things here in Texas for now.”

  Ellis swiped at a tear shimmering in the corner of her eye. “I don’t want to be spoiled. I just want my family back together right here in our home.” She paused to lean against her grandfather’s broad shoulder once more. “I hate war.”

  “As do I, child,” he said softly. “But you forget that war or not, your mother needs you.”

  Ellis returned a few hours later to change Clay’s bandages and add the familiar foul-smelling poultice to his wounds. She was quiet, unnaturally so, and an air of sadness surrounded her.

  Something had happened since he last saw her.

  When she finished her work and stepped away, Clay decided to try to coax a smile from her. “You’re just making me stink so you won’t want to be around me so much.”

  Her brows rose and then she shook her head. So much for that feeble attempt at humor. As he watched her meticulously return her herbs and bandages to her basket, he decided to try again, this time without using humor.

  “Something has happened,” he said, causing her busy hands to pause. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She whirled around to face him. “Why would I want to do that?” Then she spied his choice of reading material, a book about pirates he found in the trunk beside the bed. “Put that back where you found it. That is not yours to read.”

  “I am sorry,” he said gently as he lifted the lid and settled the book carefully back inside. “Your grandfather told me to make myself at home, so I just assumed that I, well … again, I am sorry.”

  When Mr. Valmont requested he stay away from Ellis today, perhaps it was because he expected she might be in a foul mood. “Did you get bad news from your grandfather?”

  Crimson flooded her face. Ellis appeared unable to speak for a moment. “Please do not tell me that my grandfather confided in you before he told me.”

  “Maybe he thought I would forget?”

  “Oh! You are impossible.” She snatched up the basket, upsetting her work and causing the bandages and some of the herbs to scatter.

  “It was a joke.”

  “It wasn’t funny,” she snapped.

  He bent down to grab a bandage as it rolled to a stop against the trunk. The effort cost him in a pain that took his breath away, but Clay refused to allow it to show.

  “I have few memories, so why would he think I would be able to remember anything …” He paused as Ellis knelt down to scoop the herbs into the basket. “Never mind. I’m not much for telling jokes.”

  “You’re terrible at it, actually.”

  “Am I?” he said, feigning innocence while he waited for his shoulder to cease its throbbing. “I don’t recall.”

  Ellis looked up and met his gaze. And then she laughed.

  He tossed a roll of bandages at her and then winced. Unfortunately, the expression did not escape Ellis’s green eyes.

  “You’re still in pain.” She rose and picked up the basket. “You shouldn’t have done what you did yesterday. I fear you’ve harmed yourself.”

  “Don’t you think that fire would have harmed you worse than anything I could have done in making sure you escaped it?”

  He hadn’t intended to snap at her. The damage he did likely was out of his own stupidity. He could have just helped her to her feet. Could have somehow released her tangled dress from the burning hi
nges.

  Instead he had to play the hero and carry her out of there.

  Clay closed his eyes and allowed the memory to return. Though he had few enough memories, this was one he knew would have stood out even if he’d had a lifetime of recollections left in his brain.

  The green-eyed woman in his arms, her head against his chest as he saved her life … Yes. That was a memory he would never lose.

  When he opened his eyes, she was standing just inches away. Her fingers were probing the bandage she had just replaced. “Tell me if this hurts.”

  He leaned forward just enough to smell the scent of fire still lingering in her hair. She’d changed into a dress that hadn’t been streaked with soot or torn, but it was of a similar style and color.

  “Why do you dress like the Mexican women?”

  Her fingers stilled. “My clothing is practical for the climate and easily obtained at the market.” She went back to her work as if he hadn’t spoken.

  “That scarf of yours was handy.”

  Again her fingers stilled. “Rebozo,” she corrected. “And yes, it has many uses.”

  “And pockets, apparently,” he commented.

  “Which also have many uses.” She stopped her examination and looked down at him. “Have you felt anything that hurt?”

  He had, but he’d ignored it. “Not bad enough to complain,” he said. “Why?”

  Ellis shook her head. “I’m worried that you’re undoing what my mother and I have done in repairing your shoulder wound. The leg and head wounds are healing nicely, but that one concerns me. I have to wonder if I have allowed you to skip the sleeping medication too soon. If you were less active, there would be less use of that shoulder.”

  He wanted to tell her right then and there that he would never take another one of those herbs she gave him to make him sleep. Ever.

  Instead he offered a change of topic as she stepped back and indicated that he should cover his shoulder once more. “Why would it bother you that your grandfather might have confided in me?”

  It was an idiotic thing to say given the way she reacted earlier, but the comment did the trick. Her frown had returned, but at least the topic had been successfully changed.

  “Why indeed?” she said in that tone women used when they were at a loss to describe the level of disdain they held for whatever they’d just been told.

  Clay leaned back against the pillows and let out a long breath. The change of positions did ease his shoulder pain some. He should have let her fuss her way right out the door so he could get some rest.

  Oh, but she was so pretty—with that color in her cheeks and that expression that spoke fire—that he didn’t want her to leave just yet. So he said the first stupid thing that occurred to him.

  “He’s a nice man, your grandfather. We got along fine.”

  That did it.

  “I suppose he told you everything, then.” At Clay’s casual shrug, she continued. “About New Orleans, and my mama, and the baby too?”

  “Baby?” His attention shifted to her midsection and then back up to her face.

  “Not mine,” she snapped.

  “Oh.”

  “What are you smiling at?”

  “Nothing. I …” He shrugged. “So, as long as we’re talking about what we know, I would like to know what I said to you while I was under the influence of your sleeping potions.”

  “That was a medication, not a potion,” she said with more than a little defensiveness in her voice. “And it was used only for the purpose of—”

  “Rendering me quiet and unconscious so you could hold me prisoner,” he interjected.

  “Keeping you still so you could heal,” she finished. “Keeping you quiet was merely an additional benefit.”

  “And yet I still said things, didn’t I?” Her expression let him know it was true. “You know things I have forgotten.”

  She let out a long breath. “You said things that made no sense, Clay. You were in pain and suffering from fevers. There is nothing in all of your ramblings that I can say for certain I believe is true.”

  “But you know that the date of November 18th is important.”

  She gathered up her basket and walked to the door without a backward glance. In Ellis Valmont’s lack of an answer, Clay had his answer.

  Supper that evening was made up of the last of the vegetables Mama had put away and a mess of fish that Grandfather Valmont caught that afternoon. Ellis had just set the table for two when the door opened and Clay Gentry stepped inside.

  Clay was taller than she remembered, taller and leaner but with a breadth of shoulder that hadn’t been evident until now. He wore one of Thomas’s buckskin shirts with a pair of patched and mended trousers that had to have belonged to Papa.

  It took a moment to realize those trousers were tucked into a pair of bloodstained boots that could only have been the ones Clay was wearing when he was found. Now they were shined and polished, a feat that must have taken him most of the afternoon.

  His dark hair appeared damp as if he’d just come from a bath. No one would believe this man had been at death’s door a week ago. Only the slight paleness to his complexion gave any indication that he had been unwell.

  She glanced down at the hat in his hand and recognized it as the hat the soldier had been wearing when he arrived. Likely it needed a good cleaning, unless he’d seen to that too.

  Their gazes met and locked. “My apologies. I don’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Come in and join us, Clay,” Grandfather said. “You are welcome in this home until such time as you give me reason to say otherwise. I made that clear, didn’t I?”

  “I couldn’t, sir.” He tore his attention away from Ellis to focus on Grandfather Valmont, his hands now worrying that hat. “I would be obliged if I could get a fresh cup of coffee. I smelled it brewing in the summer kitchen but didn’t want to take any without asking.”

  “Nonsense.” Grandfather nodded to Ellis and then the cupboard. “Child, get this man a plate and a mug. And fetch that coffee off the stove too, please. He’s got to be starved given what he’s been through.”

  Clay winced, and Ellis wondered if it was from pain or from what her grandfather just said. “Thank you, sir, but I generally work for my supper.”

  Grandfather Valmont chuckled. “I reckon you respect your elders too, don’t you, son?”

  “I try to,” he said, “at least best as I can recall.”

  “Well then,” her grandfather said, “whether you used to or not, you can get started on it right now. You can respect your elder by taking a seat down there by my granddaughter at the end of the table and helping yourself to some supper. You might even pretend you’re hungry and get seconds if you really want to make a good impression. Tomorrow you can earn your keep by starting on a list of chores long as my arm.”

  Clay looked reluctant. Knowing her grandfather, the soldier would be convinced, so Ellis slipped out the back door to head toward the summer kitchen. The air held the promise of a chill, though the wind had died down. Summer was well behind them, and the fall would soon turn to winter in this part of Texas.

  Removing the coffee from the place in the chimney where it had been warming, she returned to the house to find Clay sitting at the table just as she expected. She poured coffee into three mugs and brought two to the table.

  “So, Clay,” her grandfather said, “I figure we’ll start with our field hand Mack’s jobs, and then once you can get those tasks mastered, I’ll add more. There’s a fellow we like a lot named Lucas who just took off on a trip with family. He and Mack are going to be hard to replace, but I am going to let you try.” He spared Ellis a covert wink and then returned his attention to Clay. “How does that sound?”

  Ellis stifled a grin as she handed her grandfather his mug.

  Clay nodded, though he did look a little concerned. “I’d say that’s fair,” was his quick response. “Like I said, I earn my keep.”

  “Good man,” Grandfather Val
mont said. “If you’re intent on earning, I’ll certainly put you to work.”

  The poor man thought he was about to get a lengthy list of difficult jobs instead of taking over for an absent six-year-old. Ellis almost took pity on him. Instead she set the mug down on the table in front of him and then returned to the cupboard for her own.

  Because Grandfather Valmont insisted Clay be seated at the other end of the table, the two men spent the evening talking across her. Had Ellis intended to join in the conversation, which she decidedly did not, then she would have had to turn her head back and forth just to speak with both of them.

  Thus, she ignored the men’s conversation of weather and cleaning leather and such to think about the verse she was attempting to memorize from the Psalms. Though that was her intention, she couldn’t help but occasionally slip a glance out of the corner of her eye at their guest.

  Had she seen him walking down the street, she might have noticed him. Indeed, of all the men she saw sign the roster that morning, his was the only face she could recollect. Never in a million years would she have expected that the handsome New Orleans Grey who signed on as a brand-new citizen of the Republic of Texas would end up sitting at her mama’s table chatting away with Grandfather Valmont.

  And to think she had actually entertained the thought that Clay Gentry was mute. Of course, that was long before she heard his fevered ramblings and began wondering if he was friend or a foe.

  She still wasn’t certain which it was. But then, Clay probably didn’t know either, not unless his memories had returned and he just hadn’t bothered to tell her.

  Ellis considered the possibility. Yes, Mama had said the lack of recall could be temporary. She glanced over at Clay and found him staring at her.

  “Ellis,” Grandfather Valmont said, “did you hear me?”

  She shifted her attention to her grandfather as heat rose in her cheeks. “No, I’m sorry. I had my mind on something else.”

  “So I see.”

  The heat rose higher. She refused to allow even a glance at their guest. All she could do was hope he hadn’t noticed. “What were you saying?”