“How would the medicine be given to her?” Rebecca asked.
“It is placed under the tongue where it is absorbed quickly,” Baldy explained. “You would give it to her whenever she has one of these spells and then let her rest until she feels better.”
Melly joined them and said, “Her pulse is still weak, but it’s stable.”
“Rebecca what do you think?” her father asked.
She glanced at her wan mother with concern. “For some reason, I feel that we can trust Dr. Grant. If this new medicine is Mother’s only hope, then we must try it. We must have the courage to try for her.”
Steve gently squeezed her hand, letting her know he agreed.
“My husband would not be suggesting this if he thought there was any other way to save Mrs. Tyler,” Melly said. “And you are right, Miss Tyler, you can trust him. I’ve seen him work more miracles than I can count. I’ve often said that he must have the ear of God.”
“Then go ahead, Dr. Grant,” Mr. Tyler said. “Just give us a moment with her first.”
“Of course. When you’re ready, we’ll give her the medicine and then just let her rest this evening. If she falls asleep, don’t wake her. We will know in the morning if it worked. If it did, she will need bed rest for about a week. If it didn’t…”
“It will,” Rebecca insisted.
Baldy stepped away and so did Melly and Steve.
Rebecca stopped Baldy with a hand to his arm. “Please, Dr. Grant, say what we need into the ear of God.”
Chapter 14
They set out early, the morning sun just breaking across the horizon and dew still glistening on the abundant grass. The beautiful land seemed to almost shimmer with life. Side by side, with Father and Thomas riding behind them, Steve and Samuel shot away from their camp, their hearts filled with hope. They wanted to inspect the land Procela described to them before they met with the solicitor.
After several hours, the sun shone high overhead. A noisy mockingbird twirled melodies as Steve shook his head and groaned. The irony of the situation was almost amusing. They’d left their homes because of too much water. And now, this back land that Procela offered had no access to water. Habitable acreage in drought-prone Texas was confined to areas where a constant water source was available. There was no way for Samuel to settle his cattle here without a life-giving supply of water. And no way for Steve to raise horses. A well would supply enough water for people and a few farm animals, but not large cattle and horse herds.
Samuel stared with a bleak gaze at the land around them. “That villainous viper took our gold for land that has no water!” he spat.
“We’ve ridden this acreage from one end to the other and there isn’t so much as a creek,” Steve said. “Or a spring.”
“At least there’s plenty of good pasture,” Thomas said, trying to find a scrap of good news.
“It’s beautiful but worthless land,” their father said. “There’s no water on either place.”
“It’s landlocked,” Steve said.
“But I asked if it had water,” Samuel said, his face stricken.
“He deliberately deceived you,” their father said. “When you asked him about water, he said yes and poured himself water and then offered it to us. He’s probably still laughing.”
“That son of a sow,” Samuel swore. “I’ll flatten him into a Mexican tortilla.”
“That egotistical fool knew dammed well what he was doing,” Thomas said. “Playing a poor joke on us.”
“He’s no fool,” Father said. “He’s as cunning as a wily fox. And this is no joke. It’s deadly serious.”
“Well, we’re Wyllie too,” Samuel said, his voice heated and resolute. “That man won’t defeat us!”
“So, what are we going to do?” Steve asked. “Turning the Alcalde into a tortilla would likely not sit well with those hundred Mexican soldiers.”
“Let’s go talk to the solicitor,” Father said. “If he’s honest, he’ll have some good advice.”
“Unless he’s on the Alcalde’s payroll,” Samuel said.
“If he is, we’ll know,” Father said.
“Then we’ll pay Procela another visit,” Samuel swore.
“And get our money back,” Steve said. He wasn’t as outraged as Samuel was. But he was determined. He’d worked hard for that money, and he wasn’t about to let it be stolen from him.
Seething with anger, his brother turned his gelding back toward town.
The rest of them followed in the wake of Samuel’s fury.
José Antonio Navarro, the town’s Mexican solicitor, was Procela’s opposite. His humble law office on North Street held a rough wood desk, a bookcase full of law books, and a few chairs. He wore a linen pullover shirt with full sleeves, deep-buttoned cuffs, and a large collar, with simple narrow pants. But the most telling difference, Steve thought, was the man’s graciousness. Navarro welcomed them with warmth, shaking each of their hands, and then offering the three chairs he had.
“I’ll stand,” Steve said and stood by the door again. With his father and brothers so preoccupied, he wanted to be sure someone watched their backs. Towns and people on the frontier were volatile and unpredictable. A wise man prepared for trouble.
After they explained what had happened, Navarro sighed. “Procela believes he has absolute control over all of the lands within this area, that all settlers on those plots must have land titles that he deems valid, and those that don’t must arrange for titles on his terms,” the solicitor told them from behind his desk. “If they do not, he orders them off of their land.”
“And out of their homes,” Steve said.
Navarro nodded. “The record-keeping here is so poor, land titles are often disputed. And sometimes the only records are in Mexico City. The majority of Spanish citizens received their grants through oral agreements with a local official. I’m told they were supposed to register their titles locally, but few complied. Now, these promised lands are causing families much consternation because they can’t prove ownership. Therefore, buying property in Texas, although tempting, is not a good idea. A valid land grant is the only way to absolutely know for certain that the land is yours and will remain yours.”
“But Procela suggested land for us that has no water,” Samuel said.
“One of the man’s many double-dealings,” Navarro said, with surprising frankness. “I wish you had come to me first. I could have warned you of his ways.”
At once, Steve liked the man. And he could tell that their father, an excellent judge of character, seemed to trust him. But still, he had to be sure. “You seem to dislike the man. Why are you being so frank with us?”
“I have always esteemed men of character and honor. They are surprisingly scarce. When I meet men such as you, I am inclined to try to help them. And I sense that I can trust you to keep our conversations private.”
“Indeed,” Father said.
Steve had one more question. “Why does the Alcalde ask applicants for land to come to you?”
“I’m the only lawyer in Nacogdoches. And the Alcalde is barely literate. He is incapable of drawing up papers himself so he relies on me. He is only capable of robbing settlers and trickeries.”
“Trickeries!” Samuel said. “My herd should arrive within the week. I have no time to play games with the man.”
“What does he expect now?” their father asked.
“He expects you to complain and then bribe him again.”
Navarro’s low opinion of the Alcalde was becoming all too clear.
“But Steve and I gave him fifty gold coins!” Samuel declared. “I gave him that much thinking it would be more than enough to smooth the way for us and so we would get our land sooner. I have a baby that needs a home!”
Navarro appeared sympathetic. “That is a lot of money, but not an unusually large bribe. This Alcalde’s expectations are high. He’ll want double that next time you see him. Each time, you see him, he will delay you and delay you until you g
ive him an even larger bribe. Plantation owners from the East, wanting to set up plantations here, commonly pay him staggering amounts.”
“How can he get away with that?” Samuel asked. “The man is obviously corrupt.”
“Believe me, I am in agreement. Procela has made false arrests, misappropriated funds, cheated local merchants, and extorted businessmen, including me. But he has the governor’s favor. And people who stand up to him tend to get six feet of land—in the graveyard. That’s how he gets away with it. And with the military backing him up, we are powerless to stop him.”
“I have an idea,” Steve said and stepped forward. “One that hopefully will get us what we want without firing a shot.”
Samuel turned around. Their father did as well and Thomas scooted his chair so he could see Steve too.
“What’s your idea, Son,” Father said.
“Rebecca Tyler said the town is desperate for a doctor.” It surprised him that just the mention of her name made his insides warm. When he’d left her house last night, Rebecca had thanked him with a kiss on his cheek. He could still feel it. He swallowed and made himself focus on the problem at hand. “We tell Procela that if he agrees to give us a prime tract of land with water, we will talk our friend, Dr. Grant, into staying in Nacogdoches instead of moving back to Louisiana.”
“But Baldy isn’t planning to move to Louisiana,” Thomas said.
“Yes, but Procela doesn’t know that,” Steve said. “We are the only ones who do. We could have Baldy mention his intention to move back to Louisiana. Then we would suggest to Procela that we could persuade the doctor to stay.”
Father nodded. “It wouldn’t exactly be lying. If we can’t get land, returning to Louisiana may be the only option for all of us.”
That possibility didn’t sit well with Steve. It would be a terrible setback. Worse than starting over. It would be starting all over again for a second time. He wanted his future to move forward not backward.
“But we’ll let Procela believe that if he favors our application, we will talk Dr. Grant into staying,” Steve said.
“We can bring Baldy with us the next time we go to the Alcalde’s home,” Thomas added.
Navarro smiled. “That just might work. A doctor in Nacogdoches would be a great boon to the town. Procela has been trying to get a doctor to move here for months. He’s desperate to find one. His favorite mistress is carrying a child, and he’s worried because she lost their last babe and barely survived the miscarriage. I believe he truly loves Maria and wants to see her get good care.”
“Dr. Grant’s wife is an experienced midwife,” Samuel said.
“Then bring Mrs. Grant to his home as well when you go there. She could offer to examine his mistress,” Navarro suggested. “But I warn you, tell no one else of this scheme. Procela is not a man to cross. Our town’s graveyard is full of men who’ve tried.”
“Thank you for the warning,” Samuel said. “Is there any hope that Procela will leave office or be forced to leave?”
“The only thing stable about the leadership in our town is its instability. Between 1800 and now there have been several attempts at revolution in Nacogdoches. These included the filibustering episode of Don Phillip Nolan in 1800, the Gutierrez-Magee expedition of 1813, and Long’s recent ill-fated attempt to free Texas from Mexico. We are in a constant state of turmoil. I fear the seeds of revolution are being planted among the towering pines of East Texas.”
“If they are,” Samuel said, “it’s the actions of men like Procela, who take advantage of settlers trying to get ahead, that will water those seeds.”
Navarro nodded. “Among Mexican men like Procela, though there are also honorable men like myself, who view the corruption and the exploitation of settlers with disgust.”
A gloomy silence fell over the room for a moment.
“There’s another issue we need to discuss,” Father finally said.
“How may I help?” Navarro asked.
“On the road here, we came across a small boy, the son of a slave on a Pecan Point Plantation owned by a Mr. Watson,” their father said, surprising Steve that he brought this up. “The child is very young and was sent by his father to run away to safety. His Father may have been among those who drowned or fell ill after the flood. We don’t know yet.”
“I see. Is the child still with you?”
“Yes, he is,” Steve said, taking a step closer to Navarro. “He’s a good boy and was cold and alone when Father and Samuel found him.”
“He would not have lasted the night in the wilderness alone,” Samuel agreed.
Their Father continued, “My question is this. What rights, if any, do we have to the boy? Will we have to return him to Watson? The man is cruel and immoral and we would rather not. We’ve all grown fond of the child.”
“That will largely depend on whether his father is alive or dead. If he’s alive, morally the right thing to do is to return him to his father. If the slave is dead, you can keep him with you but not as a slave,” Navarro said. “Slavery is illegal in Mexico and Coahuila. We have no masters and no slaves.”
Steve wasn’t so sure about that. It seemed to him that Procela was a cruel and conniving master who exercised nearly complete control over the lives of Texans. And Mexico even tried to control a man’s religion and how he worshipped.
“How do we learn if his father is dead?” Father asked.
“I suggest you wait a couple of days to see if Mr. Watson turns up here. If his plantation home remained intact, he’ll likely stay there. If it didn’t, with the Red River so high, he won’t be crossing it. He will most likely have to turn south, as you did. If he does, the child is his property.”
“But you said slavery is illegal here,” Steve said.
“This child’s future is, unfortunately, uncertain,” Navarro said. “If Watson claims him, I’m not sure what you can do.”
“If his father is alive, I could buy his father from Watson, bring him here to the boy, and then give them both their freedom,” Father said.
“That would indeed be a solution,” Navarro said. “If Mr. Watson would agree to sell.”
“There’s not an agreeable bone in that man’s body,” Samuel said.
“It’s his heart we have to worry about,” Steve said.
He was also worried about Rebecca’s mother’s heart. How had she fared during the night?
Baldy and Melly planned to go visit her early that morning. Did they find her alive or dead?
Chapter 15
Rebecca always felt her happiest when she was baking sweets. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because she always made sure that she included the most important ingredient—love. Today, she felt positively giddy as she sprinkled more flour on her cutting board.
Yesterday, after Dr. Grant and Melly finished examining her mother, Rebecca was so relieved she wanted to hug them both, and so she did. Early that morning, though, she’d been terrified as she came down the stairs not knowing whether she would find her mother alive or dead. She nudged her father to awaken him. Together they checked on Mother. Not only was she alive, her color was better than it had been in weeks and she smiled up at them, her eyes bright and alert. A cry of relief broke from Father’s lips and joy bubbled out of her.
Before the doctor and his wife left for town, she asked them where they were camped. Later this morning, she intended to ride there and deliver a basketful of buttermilk donuts she was making to thank them and to thank Steve for bringing Dr. Grant and his wife to help her mother.
She’d first tried the recipe after she purchased a new cookbook and after her first batch, she’d made them once a week ever since, experimenting with different spices and toppings. The donuts were soon made and her father sampled one and moaned with delight. Then he contributed a fine bottle of whiskey to her gift basket. The bottle would be a gift from her father to the doctor. He also sent along a generous payment for the doctor’s services.
“I won’t be long, Moth
er. And Father and Colette will be here in the house with you while I’m gone,” she said, placing on the nightstand the donut she’d set aside for Mother and a pot of freshly brewed tea.
She picked up her mother’s nightdress and tossed it in the laundry basket. Thank goodness they employed a housekeeper, Colette, who also did the laundry. It was one chore she despised, mostly because she found it boring. The French housekeeper from Louisiana actually seemed to enjoy doing laundry. It was one of the many reasons Rebecca adored the cheerful woman.
“Take your time and don’t rush. It’s too fine a spring day to waste indoors. Enjoy the sunshine,” her mother said. “I’m wanting to finish this novel anyway.” Like Rebecca, her mother loved to read, and it was a good distraction for Mother from her sometimes melancholic thoughts. Truth be told, as much as she fought it, now and then forlorn thoughts assailed her as well.
Rebecca opened the drapes to let in the sun. “That’s better.”
“Be sure to thank the doctor and his wife for me too,” Mother said. “And do be careful Rebecca. Take your pistol.”
“I will. Remember what Dr. Grant said. You need bed rest for about a week.”
“I’ll stay right here in my bed or in that chair,” Mother said and pointed to her favorite green stuffed chair.
“I will see you later.” She gave her mother a hug and waved goodbye as she left the room.
Checking her appearance in the hall mirror, she smoothed her hair and went to the kitchen for her basket. The whiskey was already safely wrapped and stored in the bottom of the basket. She glanced at the golden, glaze-covered donuts, pleased with how they’d turned out. She covered and carefully wrapped the platter so they wouldn’t be jostled around and placed them inside the basket. Then she tucked her pistol into the side of the basket before she fastened it closed.
Her white mare, Missy, saddled by their groom, stood waiting for her just outside the front gate. After tying the basket to the back of the saddle, she mounted and turned Missy toward the road that led to the Wyllie camp. Carrying the donuts, she could only ride Missy at a fast walk so the sweets wouldn’t arrive broken in pieces.
LAND OF STARS: The Texas Wyllie Brothers (Wilderness Dawning Series Book 2) Page 13