“We are,” he told her, “but this fellow is going as far as Washington. From there we can take the La Bahia Road.”
Though she said very little on the daylong journey, Clay had to admire the fact that she did not complain when informed that her sleeping accommodations for the night included bunking next to her horse. The next morning he awakened before the sunrise and found Ellis cuddled down into her bedroll with a wild spray of red curls covering her face.
His fingers itched to press away the errant strands so he could see her beauty. For as much as she was an irritating woman at times, Ellis Valmont was a true beauty.
Not one of those belle-of-the-ball types he knew from New Orleans, this one. Rather, she was just as lovely with hay in her hair as she was …
Clay froze as he realized he’d had a memory return. How else could he compare this beauty to others he had known in New Orleans? To a dark-haired woman who scandalized society by demanding he dance every dance with her. But where had they been?
Then he knew. The governor’s ball. New Orleans. She had been the intended of another and he did not care. That night caused it all to happen.
But what was it?
Before he could turn away, her eyes opened and she caught him. “What?” she said as she scrambled into a sitting position. “Is something wrong?”
“No, just something I remembered,” he said.
“About your mission?” she asked in a sleepy voice.
He shook his head. “Something else. About me and who I was.”
Ellis found the steamboat trip upriver to be completely different from the voyages the family used to take between Velasco or Quintana and New Orleans. While those trips hugged the coastline but remained in open and unobstructed waters, this voyage by steamboat was vastly more complicated.
Men were employed to do all sorts of moving of obstacles in the river, often to the point of removing an entire felled tree blocking the way. The captain of the vessel not only had to steer around obstacles that could not be moved but also was required to avoid sandbars and areas too shallow for the vessel to pass.
At some points in the trip the going was so slow that Ellis was wishing for the trail and her horse. Most of the time, however, she reveled in the voyage upstream.
From a brief stop to take on supplies to the occasional stop along the way to pick up or deliver items, Ellis found it all fascinating. When their trip ended at the town of Washington late the next day, she was almost disappointed.
Almost but not quite, for when her feet touched dry land, she found she very much had missed walking where the ground beneath her was not rolling. Removing the horses from the steamboat was much more difficult than getting them on, so Ellis left the taming of them to Clay while she stood back and watched.
He brought them to her one at a time, and then together they led them up the embankment to the town of Washington. It was a tiny town, though one she could easily learn to like.
While Clay made their purchases for the remainder of the trip, Ellis waited with the horses. Two ladies in fine hats and dresses strolled past her as if she weren’t there. With pieces of hay likely still hiding in her curls and the mud from two days of being on the road decorating her skirt, who could blame anyone for thinking the worst of her?
Ellis moved around to the other side of the horses and spied a sign advertising an inn. Closing her eyes, she imagined an actual bed with no straw or horses and a bath in a tub with real soap. She opened them to see Clay standing there.
“I have some news,” he told her.
“Please tell me it involves real soap and a bed with no straw.”
He shook his head as he untied his horse. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but no. It does not involve either.”
“Then enlighten me, because I cannot imagine that anything other than that would actually be good news.”
“I made a trade,” he said over his shoulder as he motioned for her to follow him. They plodded along down the muddy street until they arrived at the livery. He indicated for Ellis to wait and then went inside.
He came out with a young man who nodded enthusiastically. Clay’s horse was led away. Then Clay came back for Ellis.
“We’ll be making the rest of the trip in a wagon,” he told her.
“A wagon?” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why?”
“I traded my horse for one. A wagon will let us travel in more comfort, and after we find Thomas it will allow for more room to bring him home. Two on a horse would mean for much slower going than three in a wagon.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling like a fool. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
The wagon in question was nothing spectacular. Indeed, she had seen finer quality work on the rag wagon back home in New Orleans. But the wheels looked sturdy, and there was a seat that spanned the front that had to be more comfortable than a horse’s saddle.
Ellis nodded her approval even as she went back to wishing for that bed and bar of soap. Clay supervised the moving of the packs into the wagon and then hitched the horse himself. When all of that was done, he helped Ellis up onto the seat and then stepped around to the other side to join her.
They set off down Washington’s main road, falling in behind a wagon of similar style and condition. “The talk here is that the convention will be held over at Noah Byers’s place. It’ll be spring before the delegates can all arrive, but the men in the store were adamant that there will be a declaration of Texas independence signed then.”
Ellis smiled. “How exciting,” she said. “I would love to see it.”
“You’ll have to take that up with your family,” he said. “You’ll be home with them well before then.”
“I should hope so,” she said as she shifted position.
“Comfortable?” he asked as he negotiated a turn in the road.
“Yes,” she said. “Much better than on horseback.”
He glanced at her and nodded. They fell into a companionable silence as they left the city of Washington behind and rolled onto La Bahia Road. Built for the royal use of the Spaniards, the road was surprisingly smooth and wide. The roll of the wagon wheels lulled her into an almost sleeplike state.
Ellis jolted. The wagon had stopped in a shaded spot with a view of rolling hills dotted with cattle. A brook bubbled beside them. She blinked and then realized her head rested on Clay’s shoulder.
“Oh,” she said as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Get out and walk some while I water the horse,” he told her, chuckling.
She walked off her embarrassment, stretching her legs by venturing downstream to a spot away from Clay’s view. There she knelt down to cup water in her palms. Though it was icy cold, she splashed her face with it and felt the dust of the miles slip away.
Had it not been November, Ellis might have been tempted to jump in, clothes and all. For surely her dress would be improved by a quick dunking in clean water. Still, she did have a quilt in her bedroll that would keep her warm until her garments dried.
Was it better to be warm or clean?
“Ellis?” Clay called, ending any opportunity to decide.
She rose and shook the water off her hands then dried her face with her sleeve.
Clay eyed her curiously but said nothing as his hands grasped her waist to help her up onto the wagon seat.
That night they camped at a place that looked very much like the Valmont land in Quintana. Clay made a fire and brought back something he’d shot for their evening meal. When he offered to also clean and cook it, Ellis readily agreed.
“I’m not much of a frontier cook,” she told him later after the food had been cooked. “But I do know my way around a kitchen. This is delicious, by the way.”
“Thank you. If only we had a kitchen nearby,” he said with a grin.
Clay offered her seconds, which she quickly accepted. “My grandfather loves to cook. Until now I have never met another man who did.�
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“Well,” he said slowly, “I wish I knew who to credit for the skill, but I don’t.”
“No,” she said as she set her tin plate aside. “I don’t suppose you would remember, and yet the actual skill of cooking is something you did not forget.”
He shrugged. “I can also tie bootlaces, hitch a horse to a buggy, and do any number of other things. My mind may be filled with more holes than swiss cheese, but at least I can remember the things I need to survive.”
When it came time to prepare for bed, Ellis moved their supplies to the center of the wagon and then settled her bedroll down on one side, leaving room for Clay on the other. If he had any complaints about her system, she never knew about it, for she was sound asleep before he finished hobbling the horse.
Ellis awakened in the morning to the smell of coffee for the first time since she left Quintana. Stretching, she sat up on her elbows and looked over the pile of supplies to where a dark head was visible in the vicinity of the fire.
Clay must have heard her moving around, because he stood to regard her from his vantage point on the other side of the wagon. He had removed his Greys jacket, and through the white fabric of his shirt, she could just see the outline of the bandages on his shoulder.
Until just then she had forgotten about the nature of his injuries, of how he nearly died. Instead she had allowed him to do most of the work of getting them this far. And truly, the fact that they were going after Thomas at all was also her fault.
“Were you expecting coffee in bed, ma’am?” he said in an affectation of a British butler’s accent.
“No,” she said as she hurried to scoot out of the wagon and shake the wrinkles out of her dress. “In fact, I was just thinking that I ought to be doing more. You’ve done all the difficult things and you are barely recovered.”
He shook his head. “Will you forever be my nursemaid?” he said. “Please just trust that you and your mother did a fine job of plugging the holes that someone put in me and setting me back to rights.” He paused to let out a long-suffering sigh. “I am fine.”
“And would you tell me if you weren’t?” she asked as she walked around the wagon to join him by the fire.
“No,” he said as he quietly sipped his coffee. Then he gave her a sideways look that made her laugh. “But I am fine.”
“Of course you are,” she said.
A tripod of iron had already been set up on the fire, and Clay had an iron skillet warming atop it. Ellis rose to look through the supplies until she found eggs, a side of bacon, and a crock of butter and then set about making a proper breakfast. When she was done, she handed Clay a plate overflowing with food.
“See,” she said as she reached for the other plate to fill her own. “I told you I can cook if I must.”
He nodded, his mouth already filled with bacon. When he said nothing further, Ellis began to wonder if something was wrong with the food she’d given him. Then he took another bite, and another, and after a few minutes his plate was empty.
“I see you liked it,” she said without looking over at him.
“That is one possibility,” he said as he scooped more eggs onto his plate and then added two slices of bacon atop them. “Or perhaps I am just too polite to tell you that the eggs need more salt and the bacon wasn’t crisp enough.”
He held her gaze for just long enough to allow Ellis to see the twinkle in his eye. Then he took another bite. And another. This time when his plate was empty, he set it aside.
Ellis looked down at the empty plate and then back up at Clay. “Your mother taught you to be very polite.”
“She did, actually.” His smile froze. “She did,” he repeated. “We cleaned our plates and never forgot to thank the cook. She required both.”
He looked over at her, his eyes wide. Though he appeared to want to speak, he seemed incapable of it.
“You’re welcome,” she said to fill the silence.
“No, yes. I’m sorry. It’s just that I can see her. See them. Well, not literally, but I remember them. She is where I get my dark hair. Her name is …” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Ellis smiled and then gently touched his sleeve. “Your memories are coming back. That is a good sign. Let them come as they come.”
“I suppose,” he said.
She took the plates and utensils and stood, then paused. “You know, I was thinking of something you said yesterday, and I meant to talk to you about it last night. Unfortunately, I fell asleep before I could say anything further. You said that you were fortunate to remember the things you need to survive.”
“Yes, I did say that.”
Ellis gave him a pensive look. “Then maybe that is the key to getting your memories to return. If your mind believes you need a skill or a memory to survive, then maybe it will deliver that skill or memory at the time you need it.” She shrugged. “It is something to consider.”
While Clay put out the campfire, Ellis went down to the stream to wash the plates and mugs. She returned to the sound of men’s voices.
Another wagon had stopped beside theirs, and Clay and the driver were exchanging pleasantries. A young woman sat on the seat cradling an infant.
Clay spied her and waved her over to make the introductions. “These are the Cochrans. They’re heading east from San Antonio de Béxar.”
“Oh?” she said after she’d greeted them properly. “How did you find things?”
Mr. Cochran shook his head. “It’s no place for women and children, even at the missions. General Cos has the Alamo locked up tight, but our boys are giving him a fit, so we’re hopeful that there will be a surrender soon.” He nodded toward his wife. “In the meantime I’m taking Leah and the little one to her mama in Opelousas, then I’m going back to fight.”
The woman looked away, giving Ellis the idea that while Mr. Cochran was anxious to take on the enemy and win, Mrs. Cochran was not in agreement.
“Have you heard whether Cos has prisoners of war there?” Clay asked him.
“I wouldn’t doubt he does,” he said. “We saw a passel of ’em being marched that direction on our way here. I hid the wagon and let ’em pass. If it’d been just me, I would’ve taken ’em, but I didn’t want to risk any harm to the wife and child.”
Ellis kept a neutral look even as she seriously doubted the man’s boast. “So you’re saying all of the Mexican prisoners of war are being taken to the Alamo?”
He looked past Clay to Ellis. “I’m saying it looked that way to me. Can’t see as there is any other place that’d keep them, what with the other missions being solid in Texian hands far as we know.”
She nodded. If this man was right, it was likely they would find Thomas at the Alamo.
The men chatted for a few more minutes and then the Cochrans went on their way. Ellis climbed up onto the wagon seat and took her place beside Clay.
“It appears we’re going in the right direction,” he told her. “Unfortunately, it sounds as if we will be heading directly into a battle unless it is won before we arrive.”
Ellis opened her mouth to speak and then thought better of it. According to Clay, there were still three more days of travel left before they reached San Antonio de Béxar. If they were not delayed any further, that left two full days to search for Thomas before making the trek to meet Houston.
Was he trying to justify going to Mission San Jose first?
She decided to offer a response that was neutral and yet let Clay know she would hold him to his promise. “Given that we’re in a time of war, that could be the case no matter where we go, couldn’t it?”
He nodded. “It could.”
Clay slapped the reins and set the wagon in motion. An uncomfortable silence fell between them.
Finally Ellis decided to speak. “Do you know what Ventana de Rosa is?”
He glanced her way. “Are you testing me to see if I can speak Spanish?”
“You can,” she told him. “So I am not testing. I just …” She pause
d, searching for the right way to continue without giving away her reason for asking. “Never mind,” she finally said.
“Well, there are no such words in Spanish, just for the record.”
Ellis might have laughed that his pride had proved her point. However, she elected to keep her smile to herself.
They fell into silence again, and this time Ellis was determined not to speak first. What was it about this man that made her continue to question his motives even as she proclaimed she trusted him?
It had to be the fact that at any moment he could remember something that would change everything. That might even change his loyalties.
Ellis let out a long breath. It was indeed a conundrum. Finally she decided she’d had enough of the uncertainty.
“Clay,” she told him. “I need you to see something.”
“Not now, Ellis,” he told her as he eased the wagon around a muddy spot on the road. “We need to keep going. Anything else can wait.”
“Even if I want to show you what you forgot?”
He met her gaze. “What do you mean?”
“I told you I had written it all down.” She paused. “I brought the book with me where it is all there in my notes. I’m tired of guessing when you’re going to remember something that will change your loyalties. I would rather show you now and let you decide if you’re going to continue to honor your promise to find my brother.”
Clay pulled up the reins to stop the horse. Then he swiveled in his seat. “Is that what has been bothering you?”
“Since the beginning,” she said. “I wanted to trust you, and I mostly did, but there is so much you don’t know. And even beyond that, so much I don’t know. So how can I not think that you may just remember something that changes everything?”
Clay let out a long breath and chose his words carefully. As much as he had forgotten, he still remembered that women could be exasperating.
“I wish I had something to say to make you feel like I am trustworthy. I don’t know what I don’t know, but I do know that whatever you have written in that book will not change anything between us.” He paused. “Unless I confessed I have a wife and children somewhere that I need to get home to. If that is the case, that would make a significant difference.”
The Alamo Bride Page 18