Knight on the Texas Plains

by Linda Broday

  “Was he the one who hurt you?”

  A trembling chin betrayed her as she nodded.

  “Well, I can’t imagine wasting sympathy on a wife-beater.” Anger and hate left an acrid taste in his mouth. “From what little I can see, you were more than justified.”

  “Lord knows Jeremiah was the most mean-spirited human ever put on this earth. It still didn’t give me the right—” She blew her nose and straightened.

  “I imagine you’d had enough that night you wandered into my camp.” Her delicate hand rested in her lap. Wanting merely to comfort, Duel took it in his. He was relieved when she let him.

  “It didn’t start off that way. When Jeremiah Foltry and I exchanged vows, I believe he truly loved me. Our first married year had its ups and downs, but we dealt with them. Then he changed. Drank too much, hung around with the wrong men, became obsessed with his possessions—the ranch, his land, which at fifty thousand acres was never enough—and me. The next seven years became a living hell.”

  Jessie Foltry. At last Duel knew her name.

  He looked down at the long fingers nestled in his palm. Despite their condition from harsh travel and work, they were as dainty and fine as the heart of the woman they belonged to. He had to battle the temptation to bring her hand to his lips. Jeremiah Foltry had to be the worst kind of fool to have tried to destroy the bounty he’d had in his grasp.

  “I’m sorry. If you’d rather not talk about it anymore…”

  “It actually feels good to tell someone after all these years. I’ve kept it inside far too long.” When she shifted her gaze to meet his, a little of the pain had left. The brilliance of her honesty shone like a beacon in the midst of a great storm.

  “Your husband owns—owned—the Diamond J ranch?”

  “He was so obsessed with that damn land he strung that newfangled barbed wire around every inch of it and put his brand on everything that walked inside it.”

  “Including you.”

  Worry clouded the blue orbs. “I wish you hadn’t seen that. I didn’t mean for anyone ever to see the mark my insolence earned.”

  “I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind.”

  “Have you ever been so scared you thought the next second was going to be your last? You’re looking in the face of the devil and wondering how on earth you can keep him from taking your soul? Have you been that scared?”

  Annie’s cold, lifeless body flashed across his mind’s eye.

  He’d placed her in that wooden coffin. He’d folded her stiff arms around their son. He’d thrown dirt over the two most precious beings he’d ever known. Then he’d ridden off, knowing he’d be alone for the rest of his days.

  “Yeah, I’ve been there.” The hand he’d cradled in his palm dropped onto her lap.

  Suddenly Jessie turned. “Marley Rose! You have to get back.”

  “Don’t worry. Pop’s getting acquainted with his new granddaughter.”

  “I shouldn’t have run out like that, but I didn’t know what else to do. And I meant what I said. I won’t bring you and the girl trouble.” Jessie twisted the handkerchief into a knot. “You know they’ll come for me sooner or later.”

  “That’s one more good reason for taking my name. They won’t be looking for a married woman with a child. I can protect you if you’ll let me.”

  “Think what that would do to Marley six months or a year down the road. Just when she got accustomed to me, to lose her mother all over again. Would you want that?”

  Anguish wrapping her words reaffirmed his faith that Jessie’s love for the child ran far more than surface deep. She worried not about what the future held for her or how to protect her secret, but how to shield the little girl whom life had abandoned.

  “Forget the marriage idea. I told Vicky it wouldn’t work. I want to help you though, if you’ll let me. I think I have a plan.”

  “You don’t have to do this. It isn’t your problem.”

  “The heck it ain’t. You think I want that little darling growing up not ever knowing the love of a mother?”

  “She has you. And your kinfolk.”

  “Not the same. Here’s the deal. You can live with Vicky and Roy and come to the farm every morning. I’ll plant sorghum. I happen to know there’s a big need for sorghum. We’ll use the money from harvesting to hire you one of those high-priced lawyers and clear your name.” Duel tried not to look smug. While far from perfect, his plan was a good one.

  “Won’t hold water.” She had twisted the handkerchief so tightly he was sure it would never be the same. She kept her head lowered, refusing to meet his confused look.

  “I think it will work if we give it a chance.”

  “You saw how Victoria and Roy are stumbling all over themselves in that small house. I won’t move in with them. Besides, your plan wouldn’t stop gossip. We’d still be together every day. Unchaperoned.”

  “Well, it sure beats jumping off a cliff into the Colorado.” Jessie’s face darkened. Duel wished he could take back those words. Someday he’d learn to keep his trap shut, or at least think about the words before they popped from his mouth. Before he could apologize for the slip, she shot him a dubious look.

  “You’re taking back your offer of marriage?” Her Wedgwood gaze further buffeted his composure. Was that roar in his ears from the river below?

  “You don’t have to worry. I won’t pester you again.”

  “That’s too bad, because I’ve changed my mind. I accept.”

  Seven

  Jessie wore her new dress to the quiet ceremony. Standing there in the simple high-necked gray poplin, she could feel her legs shaking. In fact, her body trembled from head to toe as they stood before the minister.

  “Do you, Duel, take this woman, Jessie, to cleave unto her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, so help you God?”

  Duel’s deep reply got lost in the whirling maze of her thoughts. Her palms grew moist. How could she vow to love and cherish a stranger she barely knew? Especially when a few weeks before, she would have died before she ever again gave any man control over her life. What was she thinking?

  You’re not a wife. You’re just a good-for-nothing woman. You disgust me. For that, I’m giving you to my friends. You’ll pleasure them or you’ll die.

  Jeremiah’s last words leapt through time, reminding her that she was anything but the fine woman Duel thought her to be. Even though she’d told him of her terrible crime, she couldn’t help feeling she was deceiving him. He didn’t know all.

  She glanced sideways at the tall man beside her. The stiff, white shirt he’d worn under protest seemed out of place on someone who was more at home in buckskins and rough muslin. Yet Victoria had insisted that a groom of the McClain variety should be properly dressed when he wed. The still-damp ends of his hair curled over the high collar, the dark strands contrasting against the stark whiteness.

  A tic in his jaw, ever apparent when irritation overcame him, marred the smoothness of his chiseled profile. Then she saw the nick just beneath his chin. The small cut reinforced her convictions. His nervousness in shaving told, far more than words, of an uncertainty that he’d chosen the right path.

  He spoke of protecting and caring for her yesterday on the bluff, and no doubt he meant it, for he didn’t speak idly. But when they came for her?

  Knowing he had doubts didn’t stunt the growth of her own. What gave her the idea that she could make a life with him—that she could compete with living memories of a dead woman?

  “And you, Jessie, do you take this man, to cleave unto him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, so help you God?”

  The inside of her mouth became parched. She couldn’t utter a single sound.

  One of the children coughed. The four sat prim and proper in a row beside their mother and father on the wooden pew. Marley Rose gurgled happily in Walt McClain’s lap.

  “Ahem.” The reverend peered at her over his horn-rimmed spectacles.

  The wa
ves of panic refused to cease. Perspiration trickled down her back. The room began to whirl like a prairie cyclone, sucking up everything in its way.

  You’re not a wife. You’re just a good-for-nothing woman.

  Jeremiah always prophesied she’d never amount to a hill of beans. Yet she now had the audacity to think otherwise.

  A warm, steady hand reached for hers. The room stopped whirling. Her gaze met Duel’s, and his expression startled her.

  His smile, the light in his eyes, gave her courage.

  Duel’s hand tightened around hers, then he winked. She trusted him. Honor and integrity were words he lived by. Maybe love would never come, but he cared for her, and that was enough.

  “Would you like me to repeat the question?” the reverend asked quietly.

  “No.” She fell under her knight’s dusky, amber spell, past his good heart and into his soul. The buzz inside her head stopped. She returned his firm grip.

  She wet her lips and plunged. “I do. I promise to lo…to cleave unto him, in sickness and in health, so help me God.”

  “I now proclaim you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, Duel.”

  The barest brush of his lips against her cheek filled her with a happy glow.

  In the rush of well-wishers, Jessie caught his glance once more. It made the sunshine much brighter.

  Duel came from a long line of promise keepers. He’d said so himself.

  *

  “‘Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.’”

  Jessie rocked Marley to sleep in the fancy rocking chair. Upon Duel’s disappearance after supper, unease had settled around her.

  A man generally expected certain liberties on his wedding night. Though he’d touted their alliance as simply a business arrangement, would he change his mind? Even the ghost of a doubt was enough to twist her stomach into knots.

  She smoothed the child’s dark curls and smiled. Marley Rose had gotten the best of her “papa” this day. After the ceremony that made them legally a family, he’d tried everything in his power to get her to drink the canned milk he bought at the general store. Yet the girl would have none of it. It was the goat’s milk or nothing. Airing more than a few damnations, he wound up having to tussle with the stubborn nanny after all.

  The doorknob turned, and Duel kicked the mud off his boots and removed his hat before he stepped into the room. His brief glance touched her before he looked away.

  “She asleep?” He hung the hat beside the door.

  “Finally.”

  He came closer. “Let me take her to bed.”

  Jessie stopped rocking. When Duel reached for the babe, she trembled slightly—more from the tender care he displayed than anything else.

  “You okay?” Sincerity rang in the softly spoken words.

  “This is going to take some time to get used to.” She held the child out, and his hand grazed hers as he scooped the limp bundle into his arms.

  In all the years with Jeremiah, she’d never once experienced such a wonderful, warm sensation. Perhaps she was simply tired. Perhaps the crackling fire in the hearth made the room so heated. Perhaps there were worse fates than sharing a bed with this man.

  Marley Rose sighed, then snuggled against his wide chest. A lump formed in her throat as she watched him amble to the sleeping area separated only by a curtain from the living area. The small bed he’d made for his little darling perched at the foot of the larger one—the one in which she’d soon find herself.

  Tightness gripped her bosom as Duel tucked the blankets around the small form. A misty film covered her vision. He made a wonderful father, despite his reluctance to use the word.

  Marley whimpered in her sleep. He crooned gently to soothe away her fears, then bent to kiss her forehead.

  Lest he catch her watching, Jessie rose and grabbed a dishcloth. Busily putting away the supper dishes, she didn’t hear his footsteps. His voice startled her when it shattered the quiet night.

  “We have to talk.”

  Apprehension hammered in her chest as she took the chair he held for her. Was this when he told her everything had been a mistake—that he didn’t need her?

  “Your horse. We have to decide what to do with it.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” The horse? What did Cinnabar do that they must arrive at a decision tonight?

  “I’m trying to protect you until we can clear your name. The sorrel bears the Diamond J brand. Anyone sees the mare here, they’ll start putting the pieces together.”

  “Oh.” The blood drained from her face at the possibility.

  “I know a buffalo hunter who’s passing through Tranquility. He’ll take the sorrel off our hands in exchange for a few staples. With his wandering ways, the man’ll ensure no one’ll ever find the horse.”

  A long sigh broke from her lips. She clasped her hands together tightly in her lap.

  “I suppose we must.”

  “Questions about you are going to fly around town as it is. No need to add further worries to our full plate.”

  That Duel simply wanted to shield her against trouble brought an onrush of emotion, and she blinked away the tears. Not since she was a child had anyone protected her.

  “You’re right, of course. It’s just that I raised Cinnabar from a foal, and to…”

  She closed her eyes, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. Cinnabar was her baby. Duel’s comforting touch on her shoulder cracked the dam of her composure. She swallowed the thickness that blocked her throat. It wouldn’t help anything to make a babbling fool of herself.

  “If you’d rather, I’ll think of something else.”

  “No. It’s stupid of me to try and hold on to something that would harm not only me, but you and Marley as well, Mr. McClain.”

  Her shoulder felt cold when he abruptly removed his hand. He straightened in his chair.

  “There’s something else I mean to get straight tonight. Don’t call me ‘mister.’ A wife should call her husband by name if he asks her to. From now on you’ll call me Duel.”

  His large hand engulfed hers. Her lips parted on a silent gasp when he brushed the tips of her fingers against his lips.

  “I’ll never do anything to hurt you. I’ll keep you safe.”

  His tenderness sent waves of surprise, then a much stronger feeling of pleasure over her. She was falling head over heels into a bright light.

  “And will you call me Jessie?” she asked, almost breathless.

  “If you want me to.” Slowly, seemingly with reluctance, he released her hand. Only then did she find it easy to breathe again.

  “I’d like that…Duel.”

  The chair scraped against the wood floor when he rose.

  “The bed is yours. I’ll make mine in the barn.”

  Suddenly the light around her dimmed. She should feel relief, or deliverance, or gladness. Instead, a growing disappointment filled her heart. True to his promise, their joining was to be nothing more than a business arrangement.

  “Duel?”

  He paused at the door. “Sweet dreams, Jessie.” Then he was gone.

  She wanted to run after him, to pull him back. It didn’t make sense to consider her feelings one minute and the next push her away. Had she completely mistaken the affection he’d shown? After all, she was merely a standin for the woman who filled his soul. No use kidding herself. All her new husband felt for her was pity.

  *

  Almost a week after Jessie and Duel spoke their vows, Luke McClain dismounted in front of El Paso’s jail. It felt good to straighten the kinks out. Every bone ached from too long in the saddle. Bright sun glinted off his silver Texas Ranger star. He pulled his hat lower to block the rays and squinted at the sheriff sign that creaked in the slight breeze.

  The message he’d gotten from Maj. John B. Jones, the commander of the Frontier Battalion, gave him a respite from an assignment that kept him one step from purgatory. Six months and still no end in sight.
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br />   Major Jones had requested he contact Sheriff Bart Daniels in El Paso, pronto. He didn’t state what problem needed his attention, just to get there fast. Curious, Luke stepped into the office.

  “Bart, you old desert fox. If you weren’t so danged ugly I’d kiss you.”

  The man whirled from the potbellied stove, sloshing hot coffee onto his hand.

  “Yeee doggies! Ain’t that just like a Ranger to sneak up on a man.” Bart dried his hand on the back of his trousers, then blew on the scalded area. “You kiss me, you whippersnapper, I’ll throw your mangy carcass in the pokey an’ throw away the key.”

  “You wouldn’t do that to your dearest friend.”

  Luke watched the lines around Bart’s eyes crinkle with mirth. The two had a longstanding friendship, and he loved bantering with the old lawman.

  Bart set the cup on his desk before he slapped Luke on the back affectionately.

  “You done been without a woman too long, son. Shore don’t want any man a-kissin’ on me.”

  “I’m just so danged glad for another assignment, I got carried away. Been chasing Victorio all over hell and half of Georgia and still no closer to catching the slippery Mescalero chief.”

  “Sit down, Luke, an’ give me the lowdown. I heard him and a hundred and twenty-five warriors escaped from the reservation a while back.” Bart smoothed his bushy mustache, which looked more like an array of pine needles that stuck out from every angle. “Want some coffee? Just made a pot.”

  “’Preciate it.” Luke took a chair and propped both feet on the sheriff’s desk. A grin settled on his face as he watched Bart shuffle to the stove and back.

  The man handed over the cup, staring at Luke’s choice of a footrest. “Just like you Rangers. Come in here and take over.”

  “Aw, Bart, if I didn’t give you something to gripe about now and ag’in, you’d think I didn’t like you. Besides, you sent for me, remember?”

  The man squinted from beneath bushy eyebrows that matched his mustache. “Ain’t forgettin’ a dad-burned thing. Ain’t so old I can’t turn you over my knee either.” His eyes twinkled as he eased into his chair.