Lone Star Bride

by Jolene Navarro

  Having her ride behind him had been one of the worst decisions he had made this whole trip. Her small hands had left their imprint on him. The heat still emitted over his skin.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he made his way over to Estevan. The wrangler responsible for the horses knew each animal better than anyone else.

  “Please tell me I didn’t put the kid on a horse that can’t be trusted.”

  White teeth flashing, the wrangler laughed. “Two Bit picked one of the more spirited animals we have, but I’ve seen the kid ride. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. The horse is a handful, but he’s smart. With a skilled rider, he’s one of the best we have. Tiago will do well with that gelding.”

  Reassured a bit, Jackson tipped his hat and moved to the other side of the herd to check on Sam, then he moved back and checked on Rory. The Irishman might need a break, and now that Tiago was riding, he could give Rory a chance to take it slow.

  The day went by fast, but he had to fight the urge to check on her every half hour. He’d gotten close enough to make sure she had everything under her control.

  The cowboys started teasing him about letting the kid have some room to make mistakes. He was torn between not wanting them to question why he was shadowing the kid, and the need to guard her against any further problems.

  The sun settled behind the horizon, and Cook had already served supper when Jackson finally came into camp. With the herd settled for the night, and Clint standing watch, he could finally eat and hopefully get some sleep tonight. Not that he was holding out much hope on that one.

  The cowboys had started playing music around a low campfire. He relaxed a bit when he didn’t see Tiago. Maybe she had gone on to bed.

  “Jackson.”

  Muscles tensed in defeat. He should have known he’d not be so fortunate as to avoid her. Grinding his teeth, he turned to her. “You should be resting.”

  “You have developed a very limited vocabulary.” She lifted a tin plate. “Eat.”

  Taking the food from her, he looked for a place to go. He didn’t want to have to talk to anyone, and he didn’t want to deal with the unwanted feelings he was battling about his little orphan. Of course, if she was little, he wouldn’t have this problem. No, she was a full grown woman, alone in the world.

  And she was not his. Definitely not his.

  “I kept the plate next to the fire to make sure it stayed warm. We’re down to the last of the supplies, but it’s warm and solid. Cook said we’re going to hit the river late tomorrow.” Her fingers went to her neck as if reaching for strands of hair that were no longer there. “Are we going to take the longer route north to the Collier’s ferry crossing? I hope you’re not endangering the herd just because you don’t want me to meet the famous pirate.” With a hard glare, she nudged his upper arm. “You need to eat before it gets cold.”

  She finally paused. He lifted an eyebrow. She never talked this much at once. “Have you finished?”

  Crossing her arms, she took a step back. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He made his way to the area where the cowboys slept. The music had faded, and it looked as if the men were settling in to sleep. He dropped in front of his saddle.

  Tiago followed him.

  “What are you doing?” Her being this close was not helping him to keep his thoughts off her.

  “There was another story I wanted to tell you.” She sat next to him without being invited. “Since you haven’t been coming to check on me, I thought I’d come to you. I’ve decided not to wait for others to do what I want. I just...” Leaning close to him, she spoke in a hushed voice that caressed the skin below his neck. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  “You need to get back to your place.” He shut his eyes, bolting the parts of him that wanted to pull her close. Instead, he crammed a spoon full of beans into his mouth. He could not give in to her. “You can’t stay here. It’s where the cowboys sleep.” His voice was louder and harsher than he intended.

  It worked though, she moved back, taking the faint scent of cinnamon with her.

  One of the cowboys yelled at him across the dim campfire. “Two Bit has worked hard and deserves to bed down with the cowboys.”

  Sam, who was closest to them, stood by the fire. “Yeah, boss, the kid’s earned the right to sleep anywhere he wants.”

  Making sure his voice was low and no eye contact was made, Jackson told her what he didn’t really want to tell her. “Go away. Your spot under the wagon is the best place for you.”

  This time she got up and, without a word, left the campfire.

  “Boss, why are you so tough on the kid?”

  Ignoring Red, he gulped down the last of his dinner and took the plate back to Cook. The biscuit was cold and dry. He thought of tossing it, but he might be hungry enough to eat it later, so he slipped it into his pocket.

  Not far off, the river rushed over roots and rocks. A dunk in the cool water would clear his mind. His clothes could use a washing. Halfway he paused, a few feet from the wagon.

  The sounds of soft crying reached him, and it wasn’t Cook. His fist clenched around the hard piece of bread. He should keep walking. Stopping would only complicate matters.

  Movement under the wagon got his attention. If he didn’t move now, she’d see him. Standing in the dark like an idiot, one foot pointed toward the river, the other stayed planted.

  “Jackson?”

  He didn’t say anything. Maybe she’d go back under the wagon.

  “Why are you standing in the dark?”

  Why? He had no clue.

  “Okay, you need to say something because you are starting to scare me.”

  He sighed. Biscuit in hand, he twisted and threw it as hard into the night as he could. A plopping noise confirmed he hit the river.

  “Did you just throw one of our biscuits into the river?” She now stood a few feet from him.

  How did he even begin to explain that it was his heart he was trying to get rid of? “I was walking to the river and was wondering if you wanted to take a dip before we hit the cattle station tomorrow. All the men are either asleep or with the cattle, and I know you haven’t had a chance to bath off like the men. I could stay on the ridge and make sure you’re safe.”

  She leaped onto him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you. I must be stinking if you offered to be my lookout. I don’t even notice anymore.” She was gone before he could even push her away or return the hug.

  That was the problem. Returning the hug shouldn’t even be up for debate. What was wrong with him? She darted to the wagon and grabbed her saddlebag.

  Dropping his head, he rubbed his eyes. Why did he do this? He might not deserve to be happy, but why the need to torture himself?

  Following her to the edge of the river, he dropped to the ground and rested against a giant tree. His boots propped up on a snake-like root, he settled in as she jumped into the water fully clothed.

  He thought he heard words, but he wasn’t sure. “Are you talking to me?”

  Joyful and carefree laughter bubbled up from the river. “No, I was thanking God for His abundance. Water has never felt so good.” A wistful edge to her voice made him smile. “Nothing like being deprived of something to make you appreciate it.” Some splashing followed that statement. “Thank you, Jackson.”

  “You’re welcome.” Pulling his hat down, he crossed his arms and dropped his chin. He might as well get some rest. “Let me know when you’re ready to get back to the wagon.”

  He tried to keep his mind blank, but images of his wife at the river popped into his brain. She had loved the water and would use any excuse to get him to take her. She insisted that Emily learn to swim. He sat up. “You know how to swim, right?”

  “It’s a little late to ask me that.
What if I told you no?” Droplets of water landed on the edge of his shoulder.

  “Did you just try to splash me?” He chuckled.

  Her only answer was to laugh. He remembered the last time he truly enjoyed himself and laughed wholeheartedly.

  It had been the day he brought the stranded travelers home for the night. Lilly had been busy cooking and tending their baby son, Jack. The little one had been fussy. Their daughter, Emily, had tried to braid her own hair, but it had been uneven. So to her mother’s horror, her solution was to cut it until both sides matched. With her hair sticking out at weird angles she had the biggest smile, so proud of herself for helping her momma and being a big girl. He had laughed until his eyes watered.

  His wife hadn’t thought it was so funny. He had reassured her it would grow back, but it never got the chance. The next day they were murdered by men he had brought into their home. He used to laugh all the time, now there wasn’t a reason.

  Guilt and joy did not live in the same house. He pulled out his watch and opened the engraved cover. “It’s getting late.”

  “Okay, I’m almost done with my extra clothes. I will never take clean clothes for granted again. Maria deserves more pay.”

  “Maria?” He frowned. Orphans didn’t pay washerwomen.

  “Oh. Uh...she works on the ranch and washes the De Zavala’s laundry. I don’t know what they pay her, but it is not enough.”

  Tiago was a study in contradictions. But it was easier to take people at face value than ask questions and get involved. The last thing he needed was to tangle up his life with hers.

  She darted past him. He frowned. Was she skipping?

  Turning to walk backward, she faced him with a smile. The dark curls bounced around her face. She was about the prettiest girl he knew, and she was dressed as a boy. He suspected that she’d bring him to his knees if he ever saw her in a dress.

  “So I thought of this great story my mom used to tell me.”

  Turning his gaze to the far tree line so he wouldn’t have to see her face, Jackson shook his head. “Not tonight.”

  She stopped abruptly in front of him, and he nearly ran her over. Her dark eyes were large as she looked up at him. “It’s short. I thought it would help my brain focus on something else so I can go to sleep. Are you clear in your head? You seemed preoccupied all day, and I thought it would help us both.”

  She turned from him and crossed her arms. “When I was little I would get scared, and my mother would tell me stories. Her voice soothed me until I fell asleep.”

  Tilting her head back, she seemed to be studying the crescent moon hanging in a deep purple sky, stars scattered across like silver dust.

  Her slender neck was working up and down. He hoped she wasn’t going to cry. Her gaze left the Earth’s ceiling and turned back to him. Pinning him to the spot. He let out a strong breath of air. He should have left when he had the chance. “I can’t imagine you being scared of anything.”

  “It’s a short story.” She might as well have begged him on her knees with the look she gave him.

  She took a step closer to him. He held his breath in anticipation. For what he wasn’t sure.

  Tilting her head again, she studied him. “Do you know a quick story? Whenever I close my eyes, dark thoughts bounce around in my head like buckshot. I know there are times we need to be alone, but tonight I just feel so isolated. Will you stay, just for a little bit?”

  He nodded. He understood, he did, but she was asking him to help with her unruly thoughts when he was dealing with his own.

  Rushing to a cluster of small bushes, she spread out her extra clothes to dry. Finished with her chore, she turned and looked at him, arms crossed as if to ward off the cold, which didn’t exist.

  “Back home there’s this woman, this family that comes to town every few months or so.” She took a step toward him, but looked to the river. “I avoided her when I saw her at church, because I didn’t want to get trapped talking to her. She talked about everything and barely paused to breathe. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her husband or four sons mutter more than a word or two. I think if I ever see her again I’ll smile and ask her how she’s doing and just let her talk.”

  He glanced back to the campfire. It wasn’t that far away. Why couldn’t he start walking in that direction? “You need to go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day, and every man needs to be in his best form.”

  A chuckle shook her shoulders, but she did move to the wagon. That was a good sign. He followed to make sure she actually went to sleep.

  Yeah, he was getting good at lying to himself.

  She crawled under the wagon and rearranged the blankets. “Do you think our life is set before we’re born?”

  She sat on the makeshift bed and pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, resting her cheek on the top of her knees. She looked so young and lost. He kneeled by the big wheel. “I don’t know.”

  “I know I’ve felt God. I’ve never felt abandoned by Him even when my mom and brother were swept away in the river. I had my faith, but I didn’t understand. Why them? I was supposed to be with them that day. They were heading to church. My stomach hurt, so my mother wouldn’t let me travel. Why was I home safe while they drowned?” Her speech stopped, and they stayed in the silence for a bit.

  “Why were they taken while I’m still here? For a while I thought I was being punished. But Pastor Philips helped through that. I still don’t understand. They had a lot of life to live.”

  She closed her eyes and released a sigh that carried guilt and pain. “When I visit the cemetery, I stop at the markers for so many children and young people. Will was too young. Rory and I were right there. We could have gone down, too.”

  “Will made a stupid decision, and you and Rory were smarter and faster. Even when you realized you were falling, you made sure to roll away from the herd.”

  She lifted her head and gave him the gift of her grin. Half-hearted as it was, it was still a sign of hope. “Are you saying I’m capable of taking care of myself?

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. Rubbing his chin, he squinted at her. “Hmm. If I am, I don’t think it would serve me well to admit it.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything more. I mean, you have a job to do and your job is to tell me to stay in the wagon...stay safe...get rest.” A serious expression clouded her face. “You need someone to tell you to rest.”

  “This is not my first drive.”

  “After we get to market and sell the cattle and horses, what are you doing with your share? Do you have plans to go back to Kentucky?”

  “I’m never going back to Kentucky. Nothing there for me.” He leaned against the wheel, giving up any pretense of leaving. There was something soothing about talking to someone in the dark. Someone who didn’t look at you with pity or blame because they knew your story. “I have a deal in the works with De Zavala.”

  “To work on the ranch?” Her voice pitched in either excitement or horror. He couldn’t tell which.

  “Nope. He has property on the edge of town.” He picked up a blade of grass crushed by the wagon. “I want to buy it.”

  She shot straight up, bumping her head on the floorboard. “Ouch.” She rubbed the spot she had hit. “He’d never sell that place. That was my...” She coughed.

  “You okay?”

  Silence followed, and her lips tightened.

  One eyebrow went up as he pegged her with a stare and waited. Nothing. “Your what?”

  She covered her face and took a deep breath, letting it out before she answered. “My mom lived there before she died. Her parents had built the house on the land before De Zavala owned it.”

  “It’s a nice piece of property with everything needed for a horse farm.”

  “It is, but it’s small. Not big at all.”


  “Perfect size for horses and a few cattle. I figured I’d run a small herd. But I want to focus on the breeding and training my horses. We’re close enough to San Antonio. Once Texas becomes part of the union, I think it’ll grow and become a good hub. I also like the hill country. Big possibilities and not a lot of people.”

  “Why Texas?”

  “Sometimes you need a new start.” He shrugged and threw the blade of grass he’d been messing with. “A place clean of memories.”

  “Are your other memories that bad?”

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “The memories were good. It was the lack of...it’s not the memories. It’s the lost promises and dreams, of all the things that will never happen. Of memories not made.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like watching a daughter grow up to become a woman and a mother of her own. A wife holding a new baby and laughing as your son rides his first pony. It’s seeing your son get old enough to ride with you.” He swallowed back the burn in his throat. Why was he talking? Because he needed to remind himself why she was not a possibility. He couldn’t allow himself to forget.

  She moved closer, but didn’t touch him. “Jackson, I’m so sorry. I know the word is lame. I can’t even pretend to know the kind of hurt it is to lose a wife and children.”

  “This is why I came to Texas. I didn’t want to think about it or talk about it.”

  “And I wasn’t supposed to ask about your past. Sorry, but why did you tell me?”

  “Death has a way of putting you in your place, reminding you how fragile life is no matter how strong or smart you think you are.”

  “But with Jesus, we conquered death. Do you believe they’re with God?”

  “There are times I hope so, but other times I just don’t know.”

  “I do. I see the stars. I feel the breeze, and I know my mother is part of a bigger world than I can see. Her faith was strong, and she taught me to always trust God’s plan. When abuelita died, I was devastated. She was my father’s mother and my world. Her and my mother were best friends, too. She taught me that God’s plans are not intended to harm us.”