Lone Star Trail

by Darlene Franklin

  Jud grunted, stooped, and checked something. He straightened and moved on. “How’d she get out? The fence seems secure.”

  “The door was open.” Papa spread his hands. “We do not know how. Just enough for the little one to get out.”

  Georg jogged into the yard and heard the story.

  “I am remiss.” Ma carried a pitcher of water from the house. “You must be thirsty after your ride, Herr Morgan. Here is some water, or I can fix you some coffee.”

  “I’ll be fine. But I’d better get home.” He swatted Karlina playfully on the back. “She’s growing into a fine little heifer. Next time, be sure you keep the door latched. No telling what animal might have attacked her out there in the fields.” Tipping his hat, he climbed on JM and headed back down the road.

  Wande took a step and paused. Her muscles didn’t want to move.

  “Wande, come inside. You must be tired.” Mama took her arm and helped her across the yard.

  “You rode his horse.” Alvie pouted. “I want to ride a horse.” She grinned. “Was it fun?”

  “Until JM started running.” In fact, Wande had enjoyed the ride until she had to get off the horse’s back. Maybe her muscles would adjust to riding if she practiced. “Marion says they must give us all lessons, that a good horse is as important as a milk cow here in Texas.”

  “They sell horses,” Mama said.

  “Because it is too far to walk from one place to another.” Wande lifted her foot to climb the porch steps. “I will need some of your ointment, Mama,” she whispered.

  Mama led Wande through the house, redolent with the scent of pickles, to her bedroom. She brought fresh water and her ointment. “Do you want my help?” Wande shook her head, and Mama left her to repair the damage.

  The bed beckoned, but Wande had promised to help Mama finish with the pickles. She freshened up as best as she could, dabbed some ointment on the sore spots, and headed back to the kitchen.

  “… why didn’t he say so this morning?” Papa held a cup of coffee. “Wande, come in. We are discussing what happened with the cows.”

  She slid onto her usual chair, careful not to wince. Mama handed her a cup of coffee and brought out cream and sugar. Wande added a bit of both.

  “We were wondering why Herr Morgan did not say he would bring you home tonight when he was here this morning.” Papa’s eyes had flecks of iron, as they did when he was angry.

  “He was not here this morning.” Wande put down her cup. “Was he?”

  Papa looked at Georg, and he nodded. “I saw one of the Morgan horses. It must have been Jud.”

  “You were so happy to see him, you forgot all about closing the gate.” Alvie giggled.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Wande’s face heated faster than if she had been stuck in the oven. “But I did not see Jud this morning until I arrived at the ranch.”

  “It is all right, Liebchen.” Papa patted her shoulder. “You do not have to hide the truth. We are happy that you have found another man.”

  “But I have not … he is not …”

  “Your head has not caught up with your heart yet,” Mama said. “But in your heart, you know. Such good news for you.”

  “He did ask to bring you home today.” Georg shuffled his feet. “I am happy for you.”

  “You rode behind him on his horse.” Alvie sighed. “Like a knight rescuing his lady from danger.”

  Wande stared at them all. “You think … Jud is courting me?”

  Mama and Papa exchanged a look. “I do not know how Amerikaners arrange such things, but it seems that way to us.” Wande sank onto the Biedermeier chair and shook her head. No. They were wrong. She had known of Konrad’s interest, had been expecting it. But she had never expected the gruff Amerikaner to be interested in her, not in that way. “You think I forgot to latch the pasture gate because I was thinking about Jud?”

  “It all turned out well. I am not worried. Jud had a chance to be a hero.” Papa winked. “But do not do it again.”

  Mama hugged Wande. “And invite him inside for breakfast the next time he comes in the morning.”

  “But Jud was not here this morning, I am certain.” Wande wasn’t sure why the thought troubled her so.

  Marion heard whistling when Jud came in a little before supper. That silly cat song they learned from the Fleischers. She raced to the door. “How did it go?”

  Jud was petting an almost-grown cat, the pick of the litter from Mittens and Marmalade that Alvie named Puddles. The cat purred loudly, squeezing her eyes. Jud had the same look, as if he had just discovered a bowl of fresh cream. “How did what go?”

  “Taking Wande home, you silly goose.”

  Jud began to smile, but the cat jumped out of his arms and he turned serious. “I am concerned about how the Fleischers are going to make a go of the farm. First the coyotes got at the hens, and now someone left the gate to the pasture unlatched. The calf got out.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Don’t worry.” He grinned. “I rescued Karlina—that’s the name Georg gave the calf—and we led her home. Everything went well until she heard her mama and tried to run ahead of JM.”

  Marion pictured a race between the horse and the desperate calf and laughed. “That must have been a sight.” She looked at him sideways. “We’ve all left a gate open a time or two. Don’t see why you have yourself in a twist about it.”

  He shrugged. “He’s jumped into farming and hasn’t bothered asking anyone a thing about what works in Texas, as far as I can tell.”

  He led JM to the barn, and she followed. “So your pride is hurt, is that it? What makes you think you know anything about farming?”

  He removed the saddle and gave JM a feedbag while he rubbed down the gelding. “As far as I can see, they have this guidebook, and all the German farmers get together in some society that discusses the best methods. But even raising horses took some changes here in Texas. Pa was just learning the ins and outs of it when he died, and I had to learn things the hard way.” He huffed. “I’d have welcomed some advice.”

  “Wande asked for advice about the kitchen garden.” Marion combed her fingers through the horse’s mane. “Did she enjoy the ride?”

  Jud hesitated before continuing to rub down his animal. “I think she did.”

  Marion saw a gleam in Jud’s eye. He was coming around to see what a find Wande Fleischer was—German or not. She’d have to wait for Wande’s version of the events until she returned to work Monday.

  But when Marion next saw Wande, she didn’t waste time discussing the ride with Jud. She brushed it aside, a worried expression on her face that Marion hoped did not reflect her true feelings. She had one question on her mind. “Did anyone from the ranch ride over to our farm Friday morning?”

  Marion had to think back. “Like who?” She and Ma rarely went riding, and that day they had spent the early hours preparing for pickling. “Jud and Bert were out early checking on the colts, but as far as I know they didn’t head in your direction. Spill the beans, Wande. Did you enjoy your ride?”

  Wande brushed her hair back from her face. “I did.” She blushed. “Alvie cannot stop talking about it. She thinks she should have been on the horse with Jud. She keeps begging me to ask him to teach her to ride.”

  “Maybe he can give her some lessons before she goes back to school. Music and horses. She’s so much like our Billie, sometimes it hurts. And other times it’s a comfort. She’s not Billie, but we get to enjoy having a little girl around the house again.”

  Wande smiled. “And you are like the sister I lost. God did a wonderful thing when He made our wagon break down by the road to your ranch. He gave us each a good friend.”

  “Yes, He did.” And maybe, if Marion’s guess was right, more than friends.

  Wande tackled the subject of the unidentified Morgan horse with Georg before he went home that afternoon. Normally, after they finished the noon meal, she jumped up and worked on the dishes giving her brother only a qui
ck good-bye. Today she followed him outside. “Let me walk with you a short way.”

  He looked at her sideways. They walked to the edge of the yard before pausing. “What is troubling you?”

  “I wanted to ask you again about the Morgan horse you saw at the house last Friday morning.”

  A pained expression crossed Georg’s face. “I know what I saw.”

  “Was it a horse you recognized? Like JM or Apple or the stallion Midnight with the mares?”

  Georg considered her question. “Not exactly. But you know that Morgan is a kind of horse. I am certain it was a Morgan. Who else would be riding it but someone from the Running M?”

  “But they sell their horses. Other people own Morgan horses.”

  Georg shrugged. “If someone from town who has a Morgan horse came out this way, why did he not come in?”

  “Perhaps he was going to the ranch and passed by our house.”

  Georg snorted. “They would have to pass the ranch to reach us.”

  “Oh.” Georg was right. She did not have the best sense of direction. “I believe you. But do you believe me? I did not speak to Jud that morning.”

  Georg considered it. “I believe you did not speak to him. But he could have been at the house even if you did not speak to him.” He grinned. “Perhaps he needed to build up courage to speak to you.”

  “Jud does not lack courage for anything.”

  Georg stared at her, and Wande’s cheeks warmed.

  “I must get home. Papa wants to make the stone wall before we add a room to the house.” Georg slung his canteen strap over his shoulder. “And we must add the room before my wedding.” He walked away quickly, love speeding his steps.

  The next morning, Alvie burst into the ranch house with Georg and ran into the kitchen. She danced in front of Jud. “Is it true? You will teach me how to ride a horse?”

  “Alvie.”

  The others’ laughter drowned out Wande’s reprimand. “I will, but it won’t be today.” Alvie’s face fell so far, she almost toppled. “Georg, Bert, and I will be busy today. Can you come back tomorrow?”

  “Yes.” Alvie turned to Georg. “You will bring me again tomorrow?”

  “I will.”

  “Make that Thursday, and we will go home together,” Wande said.

  Alvie scowled, but then her good humor reasserted itself. “May I have a music lesson today?”

  Again laughter overrode Wande’s frustration. If Alvie lived in the Morgan house, she would be a spoiled little girl—more than she already was as the youngest in the Fleischer household.

  After dinner, when Wande went outside to check the clothes on the line—thanks to the bright sunshine, several items were dry enough for ironing—she heard piano music floating through the open window. Alvie played with confidence pieces she had practiced. She had learned quite a bit over the summer. But she showed some hesitation when she worked on a new piece.

  Wande might have objected to Alvie taking music lessons. She might have objected to doing this part of the laundry by herself. But when she saw the smiles on Marion and Mrs. Morgan’s faces as Alvie played, she felt this too was part of her job—allowing the Morgans joy after they had lost their Billie. She finished gathering clothes and carried the basket inside to the kitchen. While she ironed, she hummed along with the simple songs until they stopped. “Alvie?”

  Alvie came in. “Mrs. Morgan promised me milk and cookies.”

  “Come sit by me a minute.”

  With a glance toward the pantry, Alvie complied. “What is it?”

  Wande turned the iron on end so it wouldn’t burn through the fabric and studied her sister. When she was Alvie’s age, she had Ulla and their brothers for company. In Offenbach, Alvie played with the children next door. Out here in the country, she had no one her own age. Mama might not be the only one to get lonely. “I bet you like Karlina.”

  Alvie blinked. Perhaps she thought Wande wanted to scold her for the music lesson. “I do. She is sweet.”

  “And you spend time with her each day.” Wande remembered a calf she had loved until he grew up and Papa sold him to the butcher. At least that wouldn’t happen to Karlina. The family looked forward to having another milk cow.

  “When Mama does not need me.” Alvie took the pillowcase Wande had just ironed and folded it.

  “Were you with Karlina last Friday?”

  Alvie glared at Wande. “Do you think I left the gate open? I know better.”

  “Somebody left the gate open. And I have tried hard to remember. It was not me.”

  “I didn’t do it.” Tears pooled in Alvie’s eyes.

  Wande sighed. “I believe you.”

  If it wasn’t Alvie—or Wande—then who had unlocked the gate so the calf could get out?

  Who was the rider on the Morgan horse?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Your sister will make a fine rider some day,” Jud said as he and Georg rode into the ranch’s biggest pasture Friday morning.

  “Which one?” Georg grinned. “I was thinking of Alvie. She did well at her lesson yesterday.” Jud was glad the brim of his hat shadowed his face.

  “For days she has talked of nothing else but riding horses. There are Bert and Tucker.” Georg pointed to where the other two cowboys waited.

  Jud had sent the two hands out early to bring the stallion and his band of mares and colts in closer. The time had arrived to cull the two-year-olds from Midnight’s band to begin their training. The army might come back through at any time, and Jud wanted to have fresh mounts ready to sell them. They had purchased several horses when they passed through Victoria earlier in the year.

  “Wande has not said much about her ride,” Georg said, “but I believe she enjoyed it.”

  Jud had wondered, but hadn’t dared ask, knowing the ranch hands would tease him for sure.

  “She should learn how to ride sidesaddle. Your mother as well. Every woman needs to know how to ride in case of an emergency.”

  “Even if we do not have a horse?” Georg patted Apple’s flanks. “As soon as we have the money, I will get a good horse like this girl here.”

  Jud took having horses for granted—as much as the air he breathed. He wished he could just give the Fleischers a horse, but most of their good mounts had gone to the army. Even if he offered one, their pride would not allow them to accept such a gift.

  “I have a question for you about your horses.”

  “I’m listening,” Jud said.

  “Do you remember last Friday? When you brought Wande home and rescued Karlina?”

  “Yes.” Was Georg about to give him a brotherly warning?

  “Did anyone from the ranch come to our house that morning?”

  “No, we were waiting for you to show up. Why?”

  Georg stared into the distance. “I saw a Morgan horse in the yard that morning. I wondered if it was you.”

  “No, it wasn’t me. Does it matter?”

  Georg shrugged. “We wonder, that is all.”

  “Let’s go.” Jud clucked his tongue and squeezed JM’s side. The horse broke into a gallop. Time to get started.

  Bert tipped his hat when they rode up. “We’re all set, Boss. Midnight’s a little suspicious, and he’s got ’em all bunched up yonder.”

  Jud looked. A quarter mile away, the black Morgan stallion pranced about on a rise. Jud smiled. Midnight was still one of the prettiest horses he’d ever seen, and most of his offspring had his looks, conformation, and bearing.

  “Let’s take ’em home.” Jud urged JM forward.

  The four riders galloped over the rise and circled the herd. The mares left off grazing and whinnied to their foals. The older colts leaped and bucked before setting out at full speed for the joy of running.

  Jud and his men followed, moving up and swinging their ropes whenever any of the horses veered away. They drove the band across the vast pasture toward home.

  When they neared the barn and the corrals, Bert rode ahead and prepa
red to man the gate. Jud, Georg, and Tucker stayed back, using their presence to guide the horses toward the opening. One of the lead mares ducked through the gate, and the rest of the band followed. Once inside, they circled, snorting and calling to each other.

  Midnight drew up and let all his mares and the young stock pass him. He reared and neighed as the riders grew closer. The stallion darted right, then left, as if seeking to bar their access to his band.