Lone Star Trail

by Darlene Franklin

  “Do I hear Alvie?” Marion came in. Aside from a loss of color in her face, she looked composed.

  “Marion.” Alvie stood and flung her arms around her friend. “I’m ready for my piano lesson.”

  “Your lesson …” Marion swallowed.

  Wande recognized the look. Marion’s mind was miles away. Any change to her routine could cause her to fall apart. “I will finish the laundry if you wish to give Alvie her lesson now.”

  “Are you sure?” Marion accepted the cup of tea her mother handed her.

  “I will be fine.” Wande stood and headed for the door. “Open the window so I can hear your music. Time will go faster.”

  The clothes had dried except for the men’s heavy work pants. Wande made quick work of taking everything else from the line and lugged two full baskets into the kitchen. If only Alvie could play hymns, they would cheer Marion’s spirits. But Alvie did not yet play well enough.

  Alvie finished practicing her scales by the time Wande had heated the iron. She cocked her head and listened to the music. Humming along, she occasionally added harmony or her own words. Puddles tugged at the strings as Wande ironed the apron, and Wande sang to her. “Puddle-cat, Puddle-cat. See how she plays.” She had always done that, making up words to any song she happened to hear.

  Alvie hit a grating note in one song, and then in the next, but Marion did not make her correct her mistakes. Alvie stumbled through one piece Wande had not heard before, and then stopped.

  Marion came into the kitchen and sat down. “I wasn’t much of a teacher today. I let Alvie go early.”

  “You are a wonderful teacher. She was excited about going back to school today.”

  “Perhaps.” Marion headed out the back door and returned with the trousers. “These will dry when I iron them if I get the iron hot enough.”

  Yes, and she could take out some of her frustrations on the iron. Wande had done that more than once. She let Marion take over the ironing board and began to put away the dishrags and kitchen towels. She watched Marion push the iron back and forth, steam hissing where the iron hit the damp material.

  Marion finished the first pair of trousers and added them to the pile of men’s shirts Wande had ironed. She tossed a second pair onto the board. “Did I do the right thing, telling him to go?”

  “I cannot decide for you.”

  “If it had been you, what would you have done?” Wande had no doubts. “The same thing you did. Tell him to leave and never come back.”

  Marion managed a smile. “I thought so.” They finished their work in silence.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I appreciate you staying until suppertime.” Jud caught up with Georg as they herded the horses back to the paddocks from the pasture for the night. Georg shrugged. “Mama wants someone to walk home with Alvie. We all want to pay Marion for the piano lessons. It is fair.” He settled in the saddle like someone who had been riding all his life. In fact, Georg looked about as Texan as they came, with his plaid shirt, sturdy boots, and broad-brimmed hat. Even his skin had darkened with the long hours under the summer sun. He gave away his German roots only when he opened his mouth. He didn’t have the ease with English that Alvie or Wande did.

  Wande. Whenever she tried to say Jud’s name, her mouth twisted like a prune. When she wasn’t concentrating on the U in Jud, it came out “Jood.” Jude. Well, he was a brother of the Lord and wrote a book of the Bible, so Jud could think of worse names.

  Instead of the music Jud expected to hear on the days Alvie took her lessons, only the clip clop of the horses’ hooves and the clucking of hens greeted them when they entered the yard. Jud opened the paddock gate, and Georg went in first. With one of them on either side, they quickly got the horses settled in.

  “Go on ahead. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”

  Georg stayed put. “You taught me I must always take care of my horse first, and then she will take care of me.” He dismounted and headed for the barn, leading Apple. Jud followed.

  Alvie sprang from where she sat on the front steps. “I thought you would never get here.”

  Georg lifted an eyebrow. “It is my usual time. Last week I had to drag you away from the piano.”

  Jud removed JM’s saddle and listened. Something was off kilter.

  Alvie sighed. “I did not play very long today. Marion was so sad, I thought she would cry.”

  Georg looked at Jud, who shrugged. If Alvie couldn’t stir Marion out of the doldrums, something must be truly upsetting her.

  “I’m sure she’s glad you are here,” Jud said. “We look forward to seeing you on Mondays.” Jud surprised himself when he discovered the truth of that statement.

  George nodded to his little sister. “Go back inside and say good-bye to Wande while I rub down Apple.”

  Alvie scooped up Puddles, who loved to track the horses’ swishing tails, and ran to the house.

  “I told Jud that you were sad.” Alvie’s face was a bright pink.

  “Alvie.” Wande put the full force of Mama’s disapproval behind the word.

  Alvie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “But I didn’t tell him anything else. Honest.”

  “It’s all right,” Marion said.

  Wande breathed a sigh of relief that Marion did not seem upset.

  “You be a good girl and study hard,” Marion said. “I want to hear all about fifth-grade English when I see you Wednesday night.”

  “I will. I will bring home The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. and read it for you.”

  “That is good. I like a good story.” Wande walked outside with Alvie and hugged her good-bye.

  Georg looked like he wanted to ask a question, but he simply said, “Good night, Wande.” He leaned toward her as if listening to every word of one of Alvie’s almost too-tall tales.

  Wande rejoined Marion and Ma in the kitchen. “I am glad Tom left before Alvie arrived. That one, she does not know how to keep quiet.”

  “She’s a high-spirited girl.” Mrs. Morgan did not appear concerned. “She means no harm.”

  The door creaked.

  “Not like some of the gossips in town who repeat everything they hear.” Marion managed a smile. “And so what if they do? They’ll be saying how Tom left here with his tail between his legs.” In spite of her plucky words, she picked at the strings dangling from her cuff.

  “Did I hear Tom’s name?” Jud marched into the kitchen. “Did that skunk show his face around here?”

  “Now Jud.” Mrs. Morgan used a tone that usually poured oil over troubled spirits, but it didn’t appear to help Jud.

  “He should be ashamed to come here after what he did.”

  “Judson Morgan, you settle down. Your sister’s a grown woman, and it was up to her to decide whether she wanted to speak with that foul-smelling animal.” Mrs. Morgan lifted her chin, a gesture Wande had seen repeated by both her children. “And she sent him packing. Didn’t need any help from anybody to do that.”

  Jud stopped inches from Marion, towering over her small form. She matched him glare for glare until he seemed to shrink back to normal size. Wande decided she and Marion were blessed to have brothers who wanted to fight their battles.

  “Where did he go while he was here?” Jud’s voice had taken on a more normal tone. “Did you leave him alone at all?”

  “He was in the parlor a few minutes, but I don’t see what difference—”

  Jud stormed out of the kitchen. Marion glanced at Wande and her mother before following him. Wande joined them.

  Jud slammed the desk drawer shut. “It’s gone. I knew we couldn’t trust him. He took all the money I had put in there.”

  Wande blinked. Tom had stolen money?

  “So he took the money you said you were saving for him.” Marion shrugged. “Wasn’t it his money? You did promise him a pay raise.”

  “I only gave him a raise when he was marrying my sister.” Jud’s face turned an ugly red. “Ma, go ahead
and start supper without me. I’m going into town.”

  “Jud, stay here before you do something that will bring shame on the Morgan name.” Mrs. Morgan’s face was turning as dark as her son’s. Like Mama, Mrs. Morgan also became the bear protecting her young.

  “Tom did that all by himself. The only shame would be if I let it go on any longer.” Jud lunged for the door, brushing past Wande. “Alvie told me Marion was sad. He upset you. I can’t let him get away with hurting my family.”

  Wande laid a steadying hand on Jud’s arm. She thought she understood some of what drove him, but he would only endanger them if he acted in haste. “Do not make this harder for Marion by getting hurt.”

  “Don’t worry.” His smile twisted Wande’s heart. “I’m not the one who’ll be crying when this is over.” He slammed the door behind him.

  The three women looked at each other and went out to the porch. Mrs. Morgan peered at the sky. “The moon’s near three-quarters full tonight. He should have plenty of light, if it doesn’t cloud over.”

  “Maybe he’ll have the good sense to stay in town instead of riding back in the dark,” Marion said. “But he’s not showing much sense at the moment.”

  Wande did not like fights, but Jud’s attitude did not surprise her. Men always fought to defend their honor. A soldier himself, Prince Carl represented that ideal to the Verein. Perhaps she could tell Jud some time when he was not so angry.

  The barn door opened, and JM flew down the road as if the entire Mexican army nipped at his heels. God protect both Jud and Tom. They’re going to need it.

  There was nothing like riding at full gallop to clear one’s head. Jud hovered over JM’s neck, but the gelding needed no encouragement. With each stride, the wind stripped away some of the raw emotion.

  When all that remained of Jud’s fury was iron-hard purpose, he slowed JM. “That probably wasn’t very wise at this time of night, but we had fun, didn’t we, boy?”

  JM snorted. Two miles of fierce riding and the horse wasn’t even breathing hard.

  “Maybe I should have put you to stud instead of Midnight, huh, fella?”

  JM’s head jerked against the reins.

  “I might let young Crockett take over some of that pretty soon. It’s time we had two stallions.”

  Ma would probably say he should ask God to take care of Tom and not go after him. But Jud figured God worked through people most of the time. If a man didn’t protect his own sister, when would he act? Who else would God send to do the job?

  A quiet conversation, that’s all they needed—provided Tom would return the money and promise never to return to the ranch. They could act like reasonable men. No matter how tempting the idea, Jud wouldn’t challenge Tom to a duel at dawn.

  Unless Tom refused to act like a reasonable man. Jud almost hoped he didn’t.

  Where had Tom holed up? The joke would be on Jud if Tom had taken a position at another farm and wasn’t staying in town.

  No, Jud decided. Tom couldn’t have gone to see Marion in the middle of the afternoon if he was working. The most likely place he’d taken lodging was Miss Nellie’s boardinghouse. He’d start there. They headed to the left, into one of the older sections of town.

  A rambling, ramshackle house came into view. At least once a year a storm broke through the roof, and the repairs never seemed to last. Jud dismounted and tied JM to the hitching post and knocked on the door.

  A plump matron with graying hair answered. “Well, Jud Morgan, as I live and breathe. What brings you here on a Monday night?” What Miss Nellie’s house lacked in amenities, she made up for with a cheerful spirit, ample food, and perhaps most important to Jud, an adequate barn for horses. She was a good Christian woman who wouldn’t stand any fuss, and single men found her place the best choice of lodging in town.

  “I won’t keep you long. I’m looking for one of your boarders, Tom Cotton.”

  “He’s not here. He went out for a piece of pie and to chat up young Molly Spencer, I expect.”

  Tom hadn’t wasted any time on regret about Marion’s decision.

  Something in Jud’s face must have given his thoughts away. Miss Nellie put her hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Me and my big mouth. What a shame things didn’t work out with your sister.”

  “I won’t take any more of your time, Miss Nellie. Good evening.”

  “You won’t cause any trouble, will you?”

  “Nothing like that.” Not unless Tom insists. Jud untied JM and walked down the street. He wanted to talk to Tom man to man, and he could manage that better standing.

  He made it most of the way to the restaurant when he spotted Tom coming out the door. He hung back to see if Tom had any company. He did: she of the curly red locks, Miss Molly Spencer. Her laughter rang like chimes.

  Jud waited until the door closed and Tom stepped away before he showed himself.

  “Hello, Tom. I’ve been looking for you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Tom stood his ground. Jud gave him credit for that. He stood solid, a cocky grin evidence that he felt no shame over his actions. “I was wondering how long it would take you to show up.”

  “Do you want to take our conversation somewhere more private?”

  “Right here is fine,” Tom said.

  “Very well.” Jud might as well be blunt. “I want the money back.”

  Tom raised an eyebrow. “The money you were saving for me? I reckoned that belonged to me.” He smiled, that same insufferable grin. “I thought it just slipped your mind. I knew you wasn’t eager to talk with me.”

  “I gave you that raise with the understanding you would use it to take care of my sister. When you broke your engagement, you forfeited the money.” Jud cracked a smile of his own. “Call it a dowry.”

  Tom’s hands formed fists, and he shifted his legs a few inches apart. “I earned that money fair and square. It’s mine.”

  “There’s also the little matter that you took more money than what I’d set aside for you. That’s theft, no matter how you look at it.” Jud drew in a breath. He didn’t want to lose control. “Look, you took your horse Princess when you left. I didn’t speak against it, although she belonged to me. I’ll give you a choice. Give me back the horse or the money.” He grinned. “If you still have the money, that is, and haven’t spent it all already.”

  Tom moved one foot forward.

  Maybe Jud would get his fight after all.

  Tom rocked back, fists still clenched at his sides. “You can’t take my horse. How can I get around?”

  “Fine. I’ll take the money, then.”

  Tom slowly uncurled his fist and reached into his pocket for a wad of banknotes. He handed them to Jud. “That’s all I got.”

  Even without counting, Jud knew Tom had spent a chunk. The stack was too thin. He had come to the ranch, tried to sweet talk Marion into doing something foolish, then come back to town and spent a bundle on his current lady-love.

  “Don’t ever come near my sister again.” Jud’s right arm swung, making contact with Tom’s jaw.

  If Wande stayed still, perhaps Marion could sleep. Wande had taken the prime place by the window. She loved to look at the shifting shadows, the moonlight transformation of familiar objects. To listen to the rhythms of the night sounds: the hoot of an owl, the purr of cicadas—some sounds familiar, others new since she came to Texas. Including Marion’s gentle, slowed breathing—which was missing tonight. Nightly worship of the God of creation had lulled Wande to sleep on more than one occasion. But not this time.

  “Are you awake?” Marion whispered.

  “I cannot stop thinking about Jud and Tom.”

  As usual, the women had retired to bed shortly after complete dark. In the hour or so since, Wande knew Jud had not returned. Her ears had strained for any sound.

  “Me too.”

  Both turned over so they lay flat on their backs, staring at the ceiling.

  “I think it is sweet tha
t Jud wants to protect your honor,” Wande said. “He is like a knight. He should live in a castle.” Like Prince Carl wanted to live in a castle with his bride. Jud would not like the comparison. Wande laughed.

  “What’s funny? I could use a laugh.” Marion’s voice was like a thundercloud heavy with rain.

  “It was not funny when it happened. Jud read in the newspaper about Prince Carl. He made fun of him.”

  “I’m sorry. So why is it funny?”