Lone Star Bride

by Jolene Navarro

  “What were you doing sneaking around the house so late at night? The last I saw of you, was you running to the trees.”

  “Pardon my bad manners, señor. I panicked. Your horse wanted to run.”

  “So it was Dughall’s fault?”

  The boy sighed and, after a heartbeat of silence, looked at the gate. “No, señor. I made a mistake, one I will not make again. He just wanted to go for a run. In the morning, he would have been in his stall. I’m a hard worker, not a thief. I heard you will be driving a herd to New Orleans. You won’t find anyone better with a lasso.”

  Jackson had to smile at the kid. “You mean you overheard.”

  The kid’s body went rigid. From under the wide-brimmed hat, he looked Jackson in the eye. The big eyes looked too delicate to survive in this rough world.

  “You know I’m good with horses.”

  “Here.” Tossing the apple to Santiago, Jackson watched as the soft hands caught it effortlessly. “If you’re going to do a man’s job, you need to add some muscles. And no stealing or sneaking around.” Jackson turned to make his way back to the barn.

  The kid ran after him. “I don’t steal.”

  “You want me to trust you? To give you a job? Why should I?” The boy kept his head down, but his spine remained stiff, and Jackson could hear the sharp hard breaths coming from the kid’s nose. He got the impression little Santiago was angry. It reminded him of barn kittens whenever they hissed at him.

  “The horse wanted to run. You keep such a fine animal in a small place. Maybe you don’t deserve him.”

  Jackson suppressed a laugh. Despite his small size, the little guy had plenty of gumption. “So you were saving my horse. And I should thank you by giving you a job?”

  Santiago followed him to the barn and through the doors.

  “I’m sorry, señor. Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my good manners. Hire me. You’ll not regret it. I promise.”

  Walking into the dark barn, Jackson paused at Dughall’s stall. “So you think you can handle a job on the trail?”

  The kid didn’t even look at him, but made a beeline to the gray mare a few doors down. One of the mares Jackson had wanted, but De Zavala had not included in the deal.

  He leaned against the wall and studied the kid. Something was not right, but he couldn’t identify the problem. The boy moved like he owned the place, and he sounded educated. He knew horses, how to handle them, how to ride. Not your typical lost orphan.

  “Do you have a place to sleep, or were you sleeping in the courtyard?”

  With a soft whistle, the kid moved to the next horse. They acted as if they knew him. Necks arched over the doors, trying to get the kid’s attention. The boy laughed as he shared the apple with one of the mares. The small shoulders shrugged. “I like the quiet of the moon and horses.”

  Jackson understood the need to be alone. Dughall made a rumbling noise in his throat. He seemed to want the boy’s attention also.

  With a sigh, Jackson headed to his own small room. Maybe this time he could actually sleep. As he walked down the corridor, he yelled back to the kid. “I’m driving a herd east. I could use a helper for the cook.”

  That got the kid’s attention. His head shot up. “Why can’t I work with the horses and cattle? I don’t want to cook.” He ran a dirty sleeve across his nose and ran to catch up to Jackson’s longer strides.

  “You’re too small.” Jackson hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. He avoided entanglements with people, but this kid pulled on all his protective strings. The kid was too small to handle the dangers of a cattle drive. He shouldn’t have said anything.

  In his room, he poured the fresh water into a bowl and removed his jacket.

  “I know I’m going to regret this,” he mumbled in English.

  “No, señor, I’ll be a great help for the cook. Please, I just want to go on the drive.”

  One of his eyebrows shot up as he gave the boy a pointed stare. The kid gasped and covered his mouth. He must have realized his mistake. “So you do speak English? Any other lies I need to know?”

  “Oh, no, no. I understand little. I will...try to speak good.”

  He narrowed his eyes at the kid.

  Santiago lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you need.”

  “You sure find yourself apologizing a lot.” He ran his hands over the stubble on his chin. “Be at the north bunkhouse Thursday morning. Can you do that?” Jackson untucked his shirt.

  “Yes, yes. Thank you.” Santiago’s face turned red as he nodded. With a quick turn to leave, he ran hard into the wall next to the door. A loud yelp followed.

  “Are you all right?” The kid didn’t answer. Jackson reached for him, but Santiago bolted.

  Jackson watched him run past the horses as if a bear chased him. That boy confused him. One minute he acted like the son of privilege, the next a scared gutter rat. And little Santiago knew English.

  Normally, he had no tolerance for liars, but when someone was alone and fighting to survive, he could not really hold it against them. He turned and put as much mental distance as he could between himself and the kid. Once on the trail, he would be the cook’s problem.

  * * *

  Sophia ran all the way back to the courtyard. Excitement roared through her body like the flooded Guadalupe River. She was going on a real cattle drive, and when she got back, her father would have to acknowledge her skills.

  Nothing but riding all day, seeing the country and traveling to new places. Arms wide, she twirled under the full moon, laughing at the stars. She spent hours dreaming about this life, but never really thought she’d have the opportunity.

  How would she leave without her father worrying about her or searching for her? Maybe she could trust him one more time. She could tell him, despite all his plans and his talk of burdens. Then, at least, she would not have to mask her true identity from the crew.

  If she had to stay in disguise, she wouldn’t be able to take one of her own horses. Mr. McCreed would think she stole it. It would be easier if her father allowed her to join the cattle drive as a De Zavala.

  The wind caught her brother’s hat, knocking it off. Her hair tumbled down. The long thick waves were hard to control on a good day. With a heavy sigh, she knew if her father was not open to her new goal, it would have to be cut.

  She picked up the hat and put it back on. In the morning, she would talk to him. They were the only De Zavalas left.

  Chapter Three

  Sofia sat the plate of sweet breads on the edge of her father’s desk. Next to the vase of roses and starburst she had cut from her mother’s garden this morning.

  “Father, it’s nothing. I fell while cutting the fresh flowers for your study.” She sat in the chair Jackson McCreed had occupied last night. “The bricks were wet from the morning shower. Distracted, thinking about ways to help on the ranch, I slipped.”

  Taking one of the large rolls with sugar and icing, her father shook his head. “You should not be concerned with matters of the ranch. You are twenty-two years old. Way past the time to be married and giving me grandsons.”

  “I can help you here on the ranch. I used to—”

  “There are many things you used to do that are inappropriate for a young lady of good breeding. We have enough cattle gathered to drive to New Orleans.”

  He looked through some papers on his desk. “We will use the money to send you to Galveston. There, my cousin Perez has connections with good American families.” He picked up a letter and handed it to her. “We’re making arrangements now. You, marrying into one of these families, will do more to secure our legacy here in Texas than working on the ranch. It will give us solid ground to stand on, no matter the vote from the new congress. I will allow you to marry the one of your choosing.”

 
“That’s very generous of you, Papi.” He didn’t seem to pick up on her sarcastic tone. Or ignored it. That had been his style since the flood that took her mother and brother—avoid any emotion. He expected the same from her.

  He put the document down and sighed. “I don’t want to lose the ranch. If congress votes not to honor our land grants, I want to have a plan to ensure we keep it in our family, for my grandchildren.”

  Reaching for his hand, she wanted him to understand she could ease some of his stress by staying. “Papi, you supported the new Texas, they will support you now. You know I can ride and rope better than some of the men out there. I don’t want to leave to find a husband, a man who will be a stranger.”

  Desperation gripped her as she thought of ways for him to see her as a partner and not a burden.

  “Your mother raised you to take your place in polite society and run a well-managed home. With the changes here in Texas, I’m not sure what our future holds. I want you protected and safe. This is what your mother wanted.”

  “My mother wanted me to marry a good family in Mexico. Now you want me to marry a good American.” She stood. Taking a deep breath, she tried to remain calm. “I don’t want either, Papi. I want to stay with you on our land. This is where I belong.”

  “No, it’s too dangerous, and who would you marry? There are no proper suitors for you here.” He looked at the family portrait that hung over the fireplace. “Politics have changed the country of origin, but not the intent. You will go to Galveston and find a proper husband.”

  “This canyon that holds our ranch is where I belong. This is the life I want, not city streets and walls. Papi, how can you send me away?” Tears threatened to fall. She couldn’t believe he was doing this. She moved around his massive dark oak desk, which anchored the room. “Please, I’m all you have left. You’re all I have left. I can help at the cattle station.”

  He looked at her. In the depths of his eyes, she still saw the clouds of sadness that formed the moment they found her mother’s body in the swollen river.

  “Mija, you are my future. My life. If something happens to me, you would be all alone with no protection. If anything happened to you? I would have no reason to live.”

  “We can’t live in fear. In Galveston, I’ll be alone. Please, Papi.” She moved closer to him, reaching out to touch his hand.

  His body went rigid. “You can help by doing what your mother wanted. You, to have your own beautiful home, a family, children and a proper place in society. I would be pleased with grandsons to carry on our family legacy, and little granddaughters as beautiful as their mother.” His hand came up and cupped her face. “Your tears will not change my mind. When you hold your firstborn in your arms, you will thank me.”

  Sofia stepped back, away from his touch. She knew without a doubt his mind was set. Unless she did something drastic, she would be sent to Galveston to marry.

  She looked at the shelves with its books all in neat and tidy rows, all in their place. She did not want to be put in place. She made a decision.

  Jackson McCreed was taking their cattle to market, and he had offered her a job. Her father might be stubborn, but she could match him. She would show him she brought more to the ranch than just social graces and babies. By the time she returned home, he would welcome her by his side.

  “Papi, the Schmitts have invited me to go to Galveston with them for some spring shopping. I had told them no, thinking you needed me here, but maybe I should go. I could meet my cousins and look at the list of potential husbands.”

  She touched the soft petal of a yellow rose. “They plan to be gone for a few weeks. If I’m going into Galveston society, I could use new gowns.”

  With a few steps, he was next to her. He kissed her on the forehead as if she were still a little girl. “That’s a fine idea. You can become familiar with the city before we start going to socials. When are they leaving?”

  “At the end of this week. I can go into town with Juanita.” And by the end of next month, her reputation might be ruined, but she didn’t enjoy town anyway. Here on the ranch, it wouldn’t matter.

  She didn’t need or want a husband who cared more about social graces than daily life on the ranch. An image of the tall cowboy rubbing the jaw of his stallion popped into her mind, but she shook her head. She would not allow the cowboy to distract her, either.

  * * *

  A few days later, Sofia made her way through the tree line in the dark, an old work saddle on her hip. She had to move slowly in order not to trip. The boots were a size or two too big and made moving awkward.

  A few shirts and a pair of pants, along with extra strips of cloth to keep everything hidden, were stuffed into a worn leather saddlebag. The bag came from a raid of her brother’s room. With a rolled-up blanket, a hunting knife and his prized Hawken rifle she had everything a cowboy would need to survive.

  From her own closet, she pulled out the rawhide rope she’d made herself a few years ago. The vaqueros who helped her make it taught her that it was even more important than the horse under a person. It was an extension of the vaquero’s arm.

  She loved working with the rope. Her brother got mad whenever her skill outdid his.

  Her left hand went to the back of her neck, bare of the long braid she had since her earliest memories. Now it was gone. In the bottom of her brother’s drawer along with a note to her father. She had heard him in there late at night. It seemed once a month her father had developed the habit of going through every corner of her brother’s room. What if he didn’t?

  Maybe if he found it with her cut braid, he would understand how important this was to her.

  A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of the cold metal scissors pressed to the base of her neck.

  The thick hair had fought the destruction. In chunks, the braid came loose in her hand. Soft curls sprang around her face, choppy and uneven until she ran a handful of hair grease through it.

  She could imagine her brother teasing her about still looking like a girl. Choking back tears, she buried her thoughts of him. At times, she still expected him to walk into the room, make a joke about her being a girl and hug her until she was laughing. He would have loved this adventure.

  A moment of sadness overcame her as she rubbed her bare neck.

  Then anticipation rolled in her stomach. She was about to start a whole new adventure on the open range.

  Sofia stopped at the edge of the trees. The sun wasn’t up yet, but a group of American cowboys moved around the old shed, getting ready for the day. She was about to live with them on a daily basis. Could she do this?

  Yes! If she started doubting herself now, she might as well go back to the house.

  Connected to the building was a covered cooking area, open on two sides. The smell of bacon and beans made her stomach rumble. Between her nerves and getting out of the house without being caught, she had missed the last two meals.

  She still couldn’t eat anything at this point. Fear tangled her in its net. Air had a hard time finding its way to her lungs.

  Would she be able to pull this off? She was relieved to find none of the men were from around the area. It would have been hard to hide her identity from someone who knew Sofia De Zavala, the rancher’s daughter. What would the trail boss do if he found out?

  Boots that had been worn by her brother helped her take the first steps to this new journey. All she needed to do now was introduce herself to the cook and cowboys. She would be living with, working with and traveling with these rough men.

  “Santiago?”

  The sound of her brother’s name caused her to jump.

  Jackson stood behind her. “What are you doing hiding out here?”

  “I’m here to join the drive.”

  For a few heartbeats, he stared at her. Not sure what to do, she studied her b
oots.

  “You’re early, but that’s good. I’ll introduce you to Francisco Luna. He’s the cook.” Jackson nodded at a man who walked out from the back of the building.

  Not wanting to hear her brother’s name over and over again, she had to come up with something else. She needed a nickname. “Call me Tiago.”

  His gaze narrowed. “You’re changing your name?”

  “No, it’s what I want to be called. It’s shorter, and this is a new adventure. I need a new name.”

  “Okay, Tiago. Follow me. By the way, your English greatly improved since I saw you last.”

  There was nothing to say to that, so she trailed behind Jackson, walking faster than she was used to in order to keep up with him. Stepping out from the protection of the trees, she took a deep breath and reminded herself she was a boy.

  Cook was wider than he was tall, not that it was a difficult feat. Straight up on his toes, he might be five feet tall. Under a bushy mustache and white beard, he had a smile that stretched from ear to ear. He called out to the cowboys to come get their meal.

  When Jackson introduced her, the little man lifted his chin and looked down at her. “You know how to work hard, mijo?”

  “Sí, señor.” She forced herself to nod with confidence she didn’t feel. Sweat ran down her spine.

  He looked apprehensive.

  “Whatever you need, I’ll do it. You won’t know how you did it without me on all those other drives.”

  He laughed and reached up to pat Jackson on his shoulder. “I think I like our little Tiago.”

  “Yeah, he has that effect on people. I’m going to talk to the boys before we head out.”

  Without pausing, Cook handed her a knife. “Take care of the bacon.” He moved quickly around her, getting several things done at once. All the while, making jokes she didn’t understand.

  He explained her job was to tend the mules and chickens along with hauling, fetching, cleaning and anything else he needed doing.

  This was happening. She was part of the crew that would drive cattle to New Orleans for her father. She might be cooking right now, but she was cooking outside, not in the kitchen like a woman. She was ready to ride over the country and out of Texas. She wanted to sing and dance.