They’d made their choice.
“Enough of your warnin’s. Who wants to be first?” short one asked with a lustful grin at each of them. “Our rule is if you resist and scream you die. If you submit willingly and quietly, we’ll let you live.”
“It’s more than fair,” scarecrow said.
Maybe to the devil, Rebecca thought. Her mind raced. Her basket. She’d left her pistol inside it for her next trip to town. Then she remembered. It was still in the kitchen with the cook. She listened. Unaware of what was going on, Cook was still preparing the meal in the kitchen at the back of the house, just beyond Father’s study. Pots and pans clattered and jangled, providing a background for the song Cook hummed and sang. There was no way Rebecca could make her way to the kitchen and her pistol undetected. It was too far away.
Then she noticed that Melly had been gradually moving across the front room toward the fireplace.
Surprisingly, Louisa and Abigail had both moved closer to the two robbers rather than further away.
She caught Louisa’s eyes and saw her silent message. Louisa was about to do something. But what? Dear Lord, would the young mother get herself killed? Rebecca decided it might help if she kept the two men occupied. She glanced at her mother and gave her a silent signal to remain quiet. Then she stepped toward the table near the window, opposite from where Louisa and Abigail stood, letting her hips sway seductively as she moved. Nervously, she moistened her dry lips.
“I’m sorry I was so rude to you on the road,” she told the two men. “I admit I was shamelessly impolite. I was just scared. Let me make it up to you by pouring you some whiskey.” She chuckled. “If you’re going to rob or rape us, I think I could use some myself. My female nerves are just a twitching and a trembling. I’ve never been with a man before.” She smiled coquettishly at the two as she deliberately leaned over to pour. They both stepped closer to the table as she beguiled them with her charms. She hated performing this pretense, but she had to get their undivided attention somehow to protect Louisa and Abigail. If these two men turned around and suspected something, the women could both be shot.
To her amazement, they were falling for her act.
Scarecrow openly stared at her bosom.
Short one licked his lips again and his eyes widened.
“I didn’t mean to be rude. I guess I was just scared out there on the road all alone,” she said. She tipped the decanter and then handed them each a full glass.
“Do you agree to our rules?” Scarecrow asked, taking a gulp.
“I won’t scream,” she said. “But you have to agree to just tie my mother and father and leave them in Father’s study. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Scarecrow said.
“Cheers,” shorter one said, and they both lifted their glasses while smiling in earnest at her. The hands that held their pistols fell to their sides as they relaxed.
As they drank deeply, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Louisa stealthily reach down her leg and withdraw a hidden knife. She held the knife with practiced confidence. She might be petite, but right now she appeared formidable. Her beautiful face filled with steadfast determination, Louisa planted a foot firmly in front of her and raised her arm until it was perpendicular to the ground.
Rebecca kept her eyes focused on the two men, smiling repeatedly at them. She also kept a firm grip on the heavy crystal decanter.
In another blink, from the elbow, Louisa swung her forearm forward straight out in front of her and let the knife loose. Like an arrow, the blade smacked into the upper back of scarecrow, hitting flesh, organs, and perhaps bone. He grunted, and his glass slipped from his hand. His head hit the table as he went down like a felled tree. Crimson flowed from his back wound.
The short man stared in shock at his comrade, who lay face-down on the fine wool carpet that muffled the sound of scarecrow’s fall.
With determination, Rebecca tightened her lips and her grip. The thief never saw the decanter coming as she darted to his side and smashed it against his temple with all of her strength. The decanter shattered leaving only the stem in her hand.
The robber stood there wobbling and swaying, blood dripping from his head but he did not fall down. Dazed, he blinked hard, as though he were trying to bring Rebecca into focus. He still held his weapon and began raising it.
Rebecca threw the decanter stem at the man’s head, but he ducked.
Mother screamed.
The man’s nostrils flared with fury, and he aimed the pistol at Rebecca. “You witch!”
Abigail, who already stood not far behind short man, yanked up her skirt and reached for something. In a blink, she fired a small pistol and flinched and jerked as the recoil burst through her.
As the shot reverberated against the wooden walls of the house, Rebecca’s heart shook inside her chest and blood pounded in her temples.
The short thief dropped face forward. Judging from the hole in his back, he would never stand again.
Mother stood and kicked the gun away from his hand.
Melly raced the remaining distance to the fireplace and snatched up the poker on her way to Father’s study. She stood with her back pressed against the wall outside the study door, a determined look on her face.
All these women were fighters? She shouldn’t have been surprised. It was the frontier after all. But what did Melly intend to do? Rebecca’s mind spun with alarm; she was so worried for Melly.
Gun drawn and eyes wide with fury, the bearded robber ran out of Father’s study at the sound of the gunshot. He glanced sharply around but didn’t see Melly behind him.
Without flinching, as the leader passed in front of her, Melly swung the poker at his head.
The man yelped in pain and his eyes widened in anger. Blood ran from his cheek and head.
With a fiery look on her face, Melly stabbed the poker at him again, but he jumped back out of her range. Swinging wildly, she lunged at him again and again, trying to keep the fellow from aiming his weapon at her. She finally connected with the arm that held the pistol.
Bearded man cried out in pain and dropped the weapon. At once, before Melly was able to strike again, he snatched the pistol up. “I’ll kill you for that.” Snarling and enraged, he raised the barrel and pointed it at Melly.
“No!” Rebecca screamed. Terror gripped her, but she dashed toward the thief.
Before she reached them, her father emerged from his study, his pistol drawn. He pointed the weapon at the back of the robber and fired.
Melly screamed as bearded man’s pistol also discharged.
The robber crumpled to the floor.
So did Melly.
“Melly!” Rebecca, Louisa, and Abigail all cried out at once.
They all rushed toward Melly, who had paled and slipped down the study wall beneath a cloud of black powder smoke.
Melly held her hand against her puffy sleeve. “He shot my gown.”
Rebecca slowly peeled away Melly’s hand, fearing she would find blood and a terrible arm wound. There was no blood. Only a big burned hole in the puffy left sleeve of Melly’s gown.
“He shot her gown,” Abigail repeated.
“Oh my, Lord,” Rebecca said. It could have been far worse.
Her father kicked away the fellow’s pistol and then bent to see if the man lived. “His days as a robber and worse are over. Well done, Mrs. Grant. You bought me enough time to get my pistol out of my desk.”
“I’m certainly glad puffy sleeves are in style. He aimed for me but only got my dress,” Melly said, still breathless.
“Another inch at that close range and it would have shattered your arm. A few more inches and it would have been your heart,” Father said.
Melly nodded, her anger quickly yielding to shock.
With his brow furrowed, Father regarded the rest of them. “I heard another shot. Are you all right Rebecca? Amelia, my love? Everyone else?”
“That was Abigail doing away with of one of the robbers,” Mother told him
. “Louisa dispatched the other one. We’re all fine. But you’re going to need a new decanter. Rebecca found a fine use for it. Now, Melly will need to change her gown before dinner. And that adorable baby just woke up and is wailing to high heaven. Louisa, see if you can rock him back into sweet dreams.”
Everyone chuckled at Mother’s summary, releasing some of the tension in the room.
Father stepped over the bearded man and went to check to be sure the other two men were dead. Finding that they were, he removed the dagger from scarecrow’s back.
“It’s mine,” Louisa said. Understandably, her hands were shaking a bit. She had just killed a man with it.
“I’ll clean it for you,” Father said, taking out his handkerchief, “while you see to Little Stephen.”
Then Cook came running from the kitchen, shakily holding up Rebecca’s pistol with both hands. When she saw the three dead men scattered about, she promptly fainted. Fortunately, Rebecca was able to catch the pistol before it fell to the floor. From now on, she would keep the pistol close to her person or keep one by both the front and back doors. And she would get Louisa to teach her how to use a knife that skillfully.
“I’ll get the smelling salts,” Mother said.
Abigail helped Melly up while Louisa hurried up the stairs two at a time.
Her father glanced around at the three men lying dead on the floor. “Well, this just proves what I have suspected for years.”
“What’s that Father?” Rebecca asked.
“There’s nothing weak about the weaker sex.”
“Agreed,” Rebecca said, “but you certainly helped too.”
“I would have helped sooner, but I had to load my pistol with powder. I had just cleaned it but foolishly hadn’t reloaded it yet.”
“Thank God you shot him when you did,” Melly said.
Father nodded. “Ladies, I’ll go get some of our men to clean away our handiwork.”
Mother returned with the smelling salts and surveyed the dead men, her eyebrow raised in contempt. “For heaven’s sake, ladies, while I wake Cook up, get some sheets under this skunky lot before they ruin my good rugs. And find Colette. We have glass to clean up before our guests arrive and grind it into the carpet.”
Momentarily speechless, Rebecca and Abigail stared at her mother for a long moment before they both erupted in nervous laughter.
“I guess we showed them!” Abigail said.
“Indeed,” Rebecca said.
Chapter 21
Earlier, Steve took a long bath in the stream where he’d scrubbed every speck of grime off of him and washed his hair, which now nearly reached his shoulders. Father, Thomas, Baldy, and Adam had done the same thing. Wanting his face to be kissable, Steve also took particular care shaving. After letting their garments air out while they bathed, they’d all dressed in their finest clothes and dress boots.
Samuel, his face tight with strain, had left the afternoon before to go find Hollis and his herd. They didn’t expect him back in time for the dinner at the Tyler home. Steve knew Louisa would be disappointed that he wouldn’t be there. But it couldn’t be helped. Samuel wanted to learn the exact whereabouts of his herd before they met with the Alcalde again.
A fading orange glow lit the western sky behind them as they rode five across, stirrup to stirrup through town. Many heads turned to gawk at them. Steve didn’t know if it was the fact that they and their horses were all well-groomed or that they were a daunting bunch. He tried to nod and wave often to put everyone at ease, but most of the people he saw appeared glum and dispirited.
His spirits, however, were high. He couldn’t wait to get there and see Rebecca. He nudged his gelding to a trot so the others would do the same. “Let’s hurry it up a bit. We’re late.”
“Only by about twenty minutes,” Thomas said.
“I thought only women ran late,” Father said.
“My apologies,” Baldy said. “I’m afraid I’m responsible for making us late. I had to be sure I was comfortable leaving my two patients and Amos with Mr. Tunstall.”
“How are they?” Thomas asked.
Since the women were now sleeping in town, Baldy had moved his two patients into the privacy of the tent where they would be less disturbed by the constant activity in their camp.
“Amos’ father is improving. His fever is down and he’s more alert. I’ve set the bones in his foot. Now he’s in less pain, so we’ve lowered the dose in his pain killer. And I see no sign of his foot festering. He’ll soon be able to walk with a cane, although he will likely always have a limp.”
“Thank God he’s going to be all right,” Father said. “Amos hasn’t left his father’s side since Taynay arrived.”
“And Watson is still unconscious, with little sign of improvement?” Steve asked.
Baldy nodded. “Not a lot of improvement yet. But at least he’s sleeping better.”
“The quinine should help before long,” Adam said. “But if it doesn’t, I’ll create another tincture.”
“Does he have any family that we should notify?” Baldy asked.
“None that I know of,” Thomas said. “But Samuel knows him better than I do.”
“Samuel knows more about the man than he’d like to know,” Father said. “But he’s never mentioned Watson’s family. If Watson does make it, he’ll have to figure out what to do now that his plantation is destroyed.”
“He’ll probably want to sell his slaves and move somewhere else,” Thomas said.
“Have you asked Taynay what he knows of Watson’s family?” Steve asked Baldy.
Baldy shook his head. “No, I didn’t think of that. But Taynay probably doesn’t know much about Watson. He was a field hand. I could tell because his hands were extremely calloused and he’s very muscular. And sadly, when Adam and I bathed him, his back was covered in scars. Some old and some more recent. At some point in his life, Taynay was whipped without mercy. His tortured flesh is a hideous record of the slave-driver’s cruel hand.”
“And the brutal folly and the stupidity of his master,” Steve said.
“The scars, all knotted and furrowed, are so numerous, they look like the branches of a large tree,” Adam said with disgust.
“Nothing in Taynay’s speech or attitude indicates any unusual belligerence,” Father said.
“On the contrary, he seemed intelligent and courteous the few times I’ve spoken with him,” Adam said.
“Whipping scars are usually the sign of a slave who tried to fight back against some abuse,” Baldy said.
“Or maybe he fought back when they took his wife away to sell her,” Steve said. “I would have fought that too if I were in his place.”
They all remained silent a moment, no doubt reflecting on Taynay’s life, as Steve was. Misfortune gave the slave a merciless master rather than one of the more enlightened plantation owners and planters like Mr. Tyler. Steve certainly hoped they could somehow offer Taynay and his son a more fortunate future.
As they made the turn toward the Tyler house and sugarcane fields, Steve suggested, “Perhaps Rebecca could ask those slaves that were Watson’s house servants, inside his plantation home, if they know anything about Watson’s relatives.”
“That’s an excellent suggestion, Steve,” Baldy said.
“Hold up,” Steve said and tugged back on Stardust’s reins. They all drew to a stop a short distance from the Tyler home by a large oak tree. Three ill-kept, boney horses stood, heads hanging, outside the house. “Judging by the looks of those mounts, they are not ridden by the kind of men who would be making a social call on the Tylers,” he said.
“The well-heeled look of their home might make them a target for thieves,” Thomas said.
“Dismount and tie your horses. If they’re up to no good, we don’t want to alert them to our presence,” Father said.
After they dismounted, they all drew their pistols and approached cautiously. A wagon was parked in front. The home was well lit and light shone onto the front
porch.
The door opened, and two Tyler workers and Mr. Tyler were hauling a man out the front door by his arms and legs. Then, while the first one was loaded in the wagon, two more workers lugged out a second body.
“Mr. Tyler,” Steve called. “Is everything all right?”
Tyler glanced up and smiled at the sight of the five of them approaching with weapons drawn. “You can put up your weapons. No need for the cavalry now.”
Astonishingly, the workers went back inside and brought out a third body.
“What on earth happened here, Sir?” Baldy asked as they hurried up to Tyler. “Do these men need medical help?”
“They’re past that now. I imagine they are more in need of spiritual help,” Tyler said. “They intended to rob us. I’ll explain more once we’re inside.”
“Robbers!” Steve exclaimed.
“Yes, the same ones that accosted Rebecca on the road.”
“Is she all right?” Steve demanded.
“Where’s my Melly?” Baldy asked. “Is she hurt?”
“And Abigail?” Thomas asked.
“And Louisa?” Father questioned. “My grandson?”
Tyler held up both hands to stop their interrogation. “They all are fine.”
They all relaxed a bit at that good news, and Steve let out the breath he’d been holding.
While he removed the saddlebags from the robbers’ mounts, Mr. Tyler instructed three of his men to take the bodies to the back of his property for burial. To the fourth worker, he said, “Take these poor horses to the barn and see that they are well watered and fed with grain. Tomorrow, I want them brushed well and then let out into the horse pasture. It will be a while before they’re fit for use.”
“Yes, Sir,” the worker said.
“The sorrel one may have a stone in his hoof,” Father told the worker. “He’s been holding that foot up higher than a resting horse normally does. It’s sore.”
Leave it to Father to notice. There were few men who understood and loved horses more. And Steve had inherited the same affection for horses.
“I’ll light a lamp and check it well, Sir,” the worker said and left leading the three rundown mounts by their reins.
LAND OF STARS: The Texas Wyllie Brothers (Wilderness Dawning Series Book 2) Page 19