by Nan Ryan
“How is your dear mother?” Cole asked, concern in his tone.
“Not well, Cole,” said Leslie. “You’ll see.”
Marietta stepped onto the small front porch, turned and waited. Finally Leslie let go of Cole and led them inside.
“Momma, guess who’s here?” she called out. “You’ll never believe it!”
Leslie disappeared into a back room and returned seconds later with a thin, graying, fragile-looking woman clinging to her arm. When the older woman saw Cole, her tired eyes instantly lighted, then filled with tears.
“Cole,” she said, her voice weak. “Cole, my boy, my dearest boy.”
A big smile on his face, Cole handed the packages to Leslie, swiftly crossed to the infirm woman and gently put his arms around her before he kissed her wrinkled cheek.
“It’s so good to see you, Mrs. Longley.” He gave her a tender squeeze, then said, “Here, let me help you sit down so we can have a good talk.”
Cole guided her over to the horsehide sofa, carefully lowered her to one of the worn cushions and sat down beside her. Draping a long arm around her narrow shoulders, he introduced Marietta, explaining that Marietta was an accomplished opera star who had been appearing in Central City, Colorado. He had gone up to escort her home to Galveston for a visit with her ailing grandfather.
Peggy Longley smiled, greeted Marietta warmly and said, “An opera star? My goodness, you’ll have to sing for us, dear.”
Marietta replied, “I would, but I really need a full orchestra behind me to—”
“She needs an orchestra,” Cole jumped in.
“Well, thank you so much for bringing my boy by to see us, Marietta,” said Mrs. Longley. “Please tell me that the two of you will stay with us for several days so we can have a nice visit.”
Marietta deferred to Cole. He said, “I wish we could, but Marietta’s grandfather is expecting us. I’m afraid one night is all we can manage.”
“No,” both disappointed Longley women said in unison.
No! Marietta wanted to shout. She was as disappointed as the Longleys, but for a different reason. She did not want to spend even one night. Wisely, she kept silent.
“I’m sorry,” Cole said, “but I promise to come back up this way as soon as I can.” He grinned then and announced, “We brought you each a little present. Leslie, hand me the larger of the two packages, please.” Leslie complied and he told her, “The small box is for you, sweetheart.”
Marietta tried very hard not to frown as “Little Leslie” lifted a delicate chain supporting a small gold heart from the box. Mrs. Longley unwrapped the white shawl and quickly gave Cole’s lean jaw a kiss.
Both women thanked him, pleased with their treasures and his thoughtfulness.
Mrs. Longley studied Cole’s face. With a thin hand she affectionately patted his knee and said, “I thought we’d lost you, Cole. We heard they were going to hang you.”
Marietta’s lips fell open and her eyes widened. She paid close attention to the conversation. She vaguely recalled an exchange she’d had with Cole on the night he had kidnapped her. She had warned him that he would hang for taking her and he had flippantly responded, “I’ll be hanged if I don’t.”
“You heard correctly,” Cole said to Mrs. Longley. “Fact is, I was on the gallows with the noose around my neck when Marietta’s grandfather stepped in to save me.”
“Well, my sincere gratitude to your grandfather, Marietta,” said Peggy Longley.
Marietta smiled, but gave no reply, hoping their conversation would continue and she would learn why Cole was to be hanged. It didn’t happen.
Mrs. Longley changed the subject, saying, “I’ll bet you two are hungry. It’s almost suppertime.” She looked at her daughter. “Leslie, why don’t you get started with the evening meal. Fix something special for our special guests.”
Leslie jumped up and headed for the kitchen. In less than a half hour they were all sitting down to a hot, tasty supper of baking-powder biscuits, cured ham and sweet potatoes. Marietta thoroughly enjoyed the home-cooked meal, but she wished everything was not quite so appetizing. It seemed that Leslie could do no wrong and Cole, rolling his eyes and rubbing his belly, profusely praised the bubbly blonde for the delicious meal she had cooked all by herself.
He also complimented Leslie on the simple cotton dress she had changed into before supper.
“What a pretty dress. The color suits you,” he said. “Makes you look like a beautiful princess.”
“I made it myself, Cole,” Leslie said, beaming.
“Well, you are one talented young lady” was his response.
Marietta quietly seethed. Was there nothing the apple-cheeked girl could not do? Besides, what was so special about a tacky little homemade dress? And being able to cook a half-decent meal? She herself could easily do those mundane domestic chores if she so chose. Which she did not.
Marietta could hardly hold her tongue when, shortly after supper, Leslie smiled at Cole and said sweetly, “Take a walk down by the river with me, Cole.” She did not invite Marietta to join them.
“Why, sure, sweetheart” was Cole’s quick reply.
Twenty-Seven
A fuming Marietta was left to visit with the frail, tired Mrs. Longley, while Cole and Leslie went off to walk along the riverbank.
But within minutes Marietta was glad that she had been left behind. The gentle Peggy Longley began to talk and her main subject was Cole.
“You’re a lucky young woman, Marietta.”
“Am I?”
Mrs. Longley nodded. “Yes, you are. Cole obviously cares for you and he is a fine young man. The best. He has always been so good and kind to Leslie and me.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Mrs. Longley,” said Marietta.
The older woman smiled and said, “And, of course, he and Keller were like brothers.”
“Keller?” Marietta repeated, puzzled.
“Yes. Keller, my dear son. Cole hasn’t mentioned him? Why, Keller and Cole were inseparable as boys,” she mused aloud. “Our two families lived just a mile away from each other back in Weatherford.” She smiled sadly, shook her head sorrowfully.
“Those were the happy days, the good days. The days before everything was lost.” She sighed, as if weary to the bone. But, warming to her subject, she kept talking.
“Cole’s father was a cowboy and he bought his first ranch at seventeen. As a youth and as an adult, Troy Heflin owned several ranches throughout Parker County. He was a member of the Masonic Lodge and served with the Parker County sheriff’s posse for years.” Mrs. Longley’s eyes sparkled as she recalled the big, kind rancher and his ready smile. “Troy Heflin loved life, yes he did. His creed was, ‘Live fast, fight hard and leave a happy memory.’ Lord knows, he did leave a happy memory with everyone who knew him. He was loved and respected by all.
“Troy Heflin was so softhearted he would often bring people home from town, offer them room and board and time to get back on their feet. That’s the kind of man he was. He’d send them on their way with a new set of clothes, boots and a little money.”
Peggy chuckled then and said, “He had a great sense of fun. Loved to pull pranks on the unwary. Loved to rope and often practiced on the boys, Cole and Keller. He’d chase them down the road, rope swinging! The boys enjoyed the game and the attention.”
Mrs. Longley smiled wistfully as she gazed back into the past. “Cole’s mother, Ailene, was a handsome, refined lady—a Baton Rouge belle—who loved to cook and to garden and who treasured the well-worn library her revered grandfather left her. Young Cole pored over those old books, mainly Blackstone on Law. That’s when his interest in the law began. When he finished his schooling, he went down to Austin to the university to read law.” Peggy Longley paused and abruptly stopped smiling. “Cole never liked ranching all that much. I guess it’s just as well. His father was a great cowboy but a poor businessman. Generous to a fault. Went on everyone’s note until finally he lost everything he had.�
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Peggy exhaled heavily and continued, “It was during Cole’s last year at the university that the War of Northern Oppression began. When Cole graduated, he and Keller went away to war together. It was while they were gone that Troy and Ailene Heflin both contracted influenza and died within days of each other.”
“Oh, no.” Marietta spoke for the first time. “How sad.”
“Yes, it was. Cole was brokenhearted.”
“I can imagine.”
“By then Leslie and I had moved up here. My brother passed away and left us this little piece of land. Keller and Cole thought we might be safer here, they were afraid the Yankee troops garrisoned in North Texas might sweep through Parker County.” She paused, remembering, then her eyes twinkled when she said, “Little did they know we’d be in a lot more danger way out here than we were down in Weatherford.” She shook her head thoughtfully.
“The Yankees never came within a hundred miles of us as far as I know, but to this day the Comanches are a threat. They have a stronghold in Palo Duro Canyon south of here. They ride and raid across these plains, then disappear back down into the canyon. They know we’re here, but thank God we’ve been spared so far.”
Marietta nodded, but remained quiet about yesterday’s encounter with the Comanches. She saw no reason to tell Mrs. Longley and further frighten her.
Peggy stopped speaking, frowned and said, “Where was I? I’m getting drifty in my old age.”
Marietta prompted, “You were talking about your son and Cole.”
Mrs. Longley nodded, her thin shoulders slumped, and she said, “Keller died in Cole’s arms in the summer of ’64 on a battlefield in Tennessee.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Longley,” Marietta said with genuine sympathy.
“Keller was the man of the house, had been for years,” said Peggy Longley. “I’ve been a widow since the year after Leslie was born. We counted on Keller and then when he was gone, we counted on Cole. Bless Cole’s heart, he has sent us money whenever he could spare it and worried about us like we were his own family.”
She fell silent and Marietta took the opportunity to ask, “Mrs. Longley, why was Cole to be hanged?” She held her breath, bracing for the worst.
“My goodness, you mean you don’t know? Cole hasn’t told you about the raid on Hadleyville?”
“No, ma’am, he hasn’t.”
“In the last days of the war, Cole attacked a northern munitions-supply station at Hadleyville. Hadleyville was burned to the ground and Yankee soldiers died. We Confederates considered Cole a hero for the deed, but the secretary of war, Stanton, declared the act a crime against the Union and Cole was named a war criminal with a bounty on his head. Stanton ordered that he be hunted down and hanged for his crime. For years he eluded the authorities, then his luck finally ran out.”
Peggy talked and talked about Cole. Marietta listened in awed interest, learning about a different man than the one she’d grown to know. Cole Heflin was an educated man—he had been an attorney. He had been a hero in the war. He cared deeply about the welfare of the two Longley women.
Marietta listened and nodded as Mrs. Longley talked, and when finally she paused, Marietta cleared her throat needlessly and couldn’t keep from saying, “Leslie and Cole seem to be very close.”
“Oh yes, Leslie loves Cole to death,” confirmed Mrs. Longley, and Marietta felt her heart squeeze when she added, “And he loves her. Nothing Cole wouldn’t do for Leslie. Why, I remember when—” She abruptly stopped speaking, turned her head, listened and said, “There they are now. Back from their walk.”
“Yes,” said Marietta, hearing the sound of their shared laughter as her green eyes turned greener.
Bedtime.
The Longley house was very small. One tiny bedroom that Mrs. Longley and Leslie shared.
Marietta was offered the living-room sofa and a clean white nightgown belonging to Leslie. She graciously accepted both. Cole assured the Longley ladies that he would be more than comfortable out in the barn.
When Leslie brought him a blanket and pillow, he thanked her, kissed her forehead and said, “Good night, sweetheart.”
“‘Night, Cole,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck and embracing him.
While Leslie hugged Cole tightly, he glanced over her head at Marietta. He said nothing, just looked at her with those smoldering eyes that caused her heartbeat to accelerate. Leslie released him. He turned and left the house.
“You’ll be okay here, Marietta?” Leslie asked when they were alone.
“Yes, I’ll be just fine,” Marietta replied. “I’m so tired, I’m sure I’ll fall asleep the minute I lie down.”
Leslie nodded. “Well, then, good night. If you need anything, you call out to me, I’ll hear you.” She turned to leave the room, then, “Otherwise, I’ll see you at breakfast. Nobody can fix flapjacks like I can.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” said Marietta, frowning at Leslie’s retreating back.
After Leslie left her, Marietta blew out the last remaining lamp and undressed. She drew the freshly laundered white nightgown down over her head and let it fall to her ankles. She stretched out on the uncomfortable horsehide sofa. The lamp went out in the Longley bedroom.
The house grew dark and silent.
Marietta closed her eyes and wiggled around in an attempt to get comfortable. The sofa was unbelievably hard and lumpy. She flung her arms up over her head. She tried very hard to fall asleep. Her eyes came open. She tossed and turned, first onto her right side, then onto her left. Then onto her back once more.
She thought about Cole holding Leslie’s hand as they had strolled away from the house earlier in the evening. She recalled how they had been laughing together when they returned. She wondered what they had done when they’d gotten away from the house.
Marietta made a face and gritted her teeth. Mrs. Longley herself had said that Leslie loved Cole and Cole loved Leslie. No getting around it, Leslie Longley was a beauty. A young, innocent-looking beauty. It wasn’t too hard to imagine Cole being enchanted with the fresh-faced girl.
Marietta gave up on sleeping.
She sat up, drew her bare feet up under her and hugged her knees. She wondered: Should she? Or shouldn’t she?
Marietta rose from the sofa, tiptoed to the open front door and stepped out onto the porch. Barefoot, wearing only the borrowed batiste nightgown, she stood there in the pale moonlight, listening to the crickets chirp and the night wind stirring the leaves of the chinaberry tree in the Longley front yard.
She pushed her wild red hair back over her shoulders, stepped down off the porch and cautiously circled the small house, ducking low when she passed the bedroom window. Out back she stopped at the edge of Leslie’s flower bed.
Thirty yards away, through the open door of the barn, she saw the distinctive orange glow of a lighted cigar. Her heartbeat quickened as it had when Cole had looked at her over Leslie’s head.
Marietta gathered her gown up around her knees and sprinted toward the barn. She stepped into the open doorway and waited, her pulse now racing. In a stall at the back of the barn, the black stallion whinnied at the intrusion.
Cole remained silent.
Leaning back against the wall, he was seated on the blanket, which he’d spread out on the hay, his knees bent and raised. He was bare-chested and barefoot, but still wore his trousers.
As she stood there hardly daring to breathe, he took a long, slow drag on the cigar. Its glowing tip partially lighted his handsome face. He then took the cigar from his mouth, came agilely to his feet and slowly approached Marietta.
She lost her breath entirely. Cole tossed the cigar out the door into the dirt. He stepped up close to Marietta, so close she could have touched him. Towering over her, he looked at her for a long, tension-filled moment, his eyes flashing in the dim light.
Wordlessly, he reached for her. He took both her hands and drew her into the barn. The stallion shook its great head up and down rapidly a
nd neighed loudly. The piebald mare pricked her ears, then whinnied softly, turned away and ignored them.
Cole and Marietta stood facing each other in the rectangle of moonlight spilling through the open barn door.
Cole raised his hands, cupped her soft cheeks, kissed her and said, “I was afraid you might have come to your senses and not shown up.”
Twenty-Eight
Marietta swayed into Cole, raked her nails gently through the black hair covering his chest and said, “You knew very well I would come.”
Cole laughed softly, kissed her again, drew her deeper into the interior of the barn and turned her so that she was facing away from him.
With no further preamble, he lifted her nightgown up over her head and dropped it to the hay. Naked, Marietta stood before him, tingling, waiting impatiently to feel his strong arms come around her.
Behind her, Cole took a moment to admire her. Lord, she was sheer perfection. Heavy red-gold hair spilling over her pale, slender shoulders, waist so small his hands could scan it, flared hips and long, shapely legs he could hardly wait to have wrapped around him.
Cole swallowed hard and drew a deep breath.
Swiftly he shucked off his trousers and tossed them aside. When at last he drew Marietta back against his tall, lean frame, he was as naked as she. Marietta sighed softly when he gripped her shoulders, bent his head and kissed the curve of her neck and shoulder.
His lips moving up and down the side of her throat, he said, “There are so many ways I want to love you, baby. Say I can. Say you’ll let me.”
Marietta’s head fell back on his shoulder and her hands covered his where they lay atop her quivering stomach.
“I’ll let you, Cole,” she whispered breathlessly. “You know I will. Anything you want, I want too.”
“Ah, sweetheart,” he murmured, turning her about in his arms to gaze at her lips for a long moment. Then he lowered his head and kissed her.
It was a searing kiss of unrestrained passion, and Marietta, trembling with growing excitement, lifted weak arms up around his neck and drew his head down, her mouth open and eager beneath his. She felt his tongue probing, felt the blazing heat of his naked body pressed insistently against hers.