“He’s thrilled to death we’re staying right next door to the Alamo,” Kate said. “I have a sneaking suspicion he’s going to re-fight every stage of the battle for my benefit.”
“Good,” Jenny said, turning back to her desk. “Tell him to make it come out better for our side this time.”
123
Kate visibly relaxed when she stepped into the lobby of the Menger Hotel in San Antonio. The worn brass of the handrail on the front steps felt cool and smooth under her fingers, and once through the front doors, the easy grace of a different, older time settled around her.
Jake saw the tension ease out of her body and breathed his own sigh of relief. He kept the worry to himself, but he knew the effects of stress on Kate's crippled shoulder. Even though she all but forbade any reference to it, chronic pain was a fact of life for her. On those days when Kate went off on long walks, Jake knew why and he'd do what he could to help without making her feel coddled. The last serious incident occurred right before she went to Colorado to bring Jenny home. So serious that Kate had even agreed to take a pain pill.
When he planned this weekend, Jake hadn't meant for it to be stressful for her, but he'd underestimated Kate's apprehension about attending an event that was so far out of her comfort zone. On the two-hour drive to San Antonio, they'd enjoyed their usual, lively level of conversation, but the closer they came to their destination, the more Jake sensed her nervousness.
As they paused just inside the front entrance of the hotel, he said, "Why don't you have a look around while I get us signed in?"
Kate walked into the middle of the old-fashioned lobby. She found herself surrounded by ornate pillars supporting an open second story. Craning her neck backwards, she looked up past the intricate railing and tall windows to study the stained-glass skylight overhead.
Across from where she stood, glass-paned doors led out to what appeared to be a courtyard. She let her eyes wander over the antique furniture lining the walls and down to the tiny mosaic of tiles under her feet. The effect of the room's decor was to roll time backwards in a way Kate found soothing and familiar.
She was so lost in her examination of the lobby's details; she didn't feel Jake watching her with an open and loving expression. He'd meant to just walk briskly over with their room keys. But then, he saw her standing there; the red in her hair highlighted by the slanting sunbeams falling around her.
Transfixed by the sight, Jake stopped in his tracks, admiring the long lines of Kate's lean body and the way the light threw her profile in relief. That strong jaw that could set in stubborn opposition. The fine, aquiline nose. Kate really was the image of Langston Lockwood, but softened, made noble by the humor in her eyes and the intelligent compassion of her mind.
Half turning, Kate saw Jake and smiled. By some miracle, he managed to get his body moving again and went to join her. As he drew closer, Kate asked, with a teasing note in her voice, "What were you looking at, Professor?"
"You," he admitted, without hesitation. "How do you like the place?"
Coloring slightly, Kate said, "I love it." She let a heartbeat pass and then added, "You're kinda growing on me, too."
"Well, I should hope so," he said. "There's only one bed in the room."
"One is all we need," she replied, enjoying the way her words sent a slow flush over his tan features.
"Behave yourself," Jake said.
"You started it," she shot back.
At that, they both laughed. "I can't believe you've never been here before," he said. "The Menger is an institution."
Kate shrugged. "It's not like we ever took any family trips," she explained. "And in high school when I'd come down here with the 4-H kids for the stock show, we slept in the barns with the animals."
Jake regarded her with horror. "You did what?"
"It was fun," Kate laughed. "We had cots, and the sponsors' wives made our meals in slow cookers. You haven't lived until you've had breakfast casserole out of a Crock Pot in a livestock barn at dawn."
He thought about the description for a minute and then said doubtfully, "Well, I guess that's not so different from having breakfast on a dig, just sans the smell of a manure. Which is, face it, disgusting."
"Wimp," she accused.
"That's me," he agreed cheerfully. "So, I did okay on the hotel? I figured you'd like this better than some awful, modern monstrosity."
"You figured right," Kate said. "It's perfect. I can't wait to see the rest of the place."
Jake fairly beamed. "Great! How about we get settled in our room, and then have a look around, maybe wander down to the River Walk for dinner and then take a carriage ride. The Alamo is beautiful when they light it up at night."
Kate couldn't keep from smiling at his boyish enthusiasm. "You sound like a tour guide."
"I want you to have fun this weekend," he said. "And not think about one blessed thing going on at the ranch."
When Jake first mentioned the speaking engagement in San Antonio, he assured Kate he'd make all the arrangements, then wheedled until she agreed to stay two nights. His speaking engagement at the Institute of Texan Cultures was scheduled for the next evening, so they had 24 hours on their own and most of Sunday before they had to head back to the Rocking L.
Jake had chosen one of the hotel's newly renovated "Victorian" rooms. The accommodations were decorated in soft green and blue tones and furnished with period-style pieces. The overall ambiance led Kate to declare approvingly, "It looks like it belongs in a rambling old mansion complete with ghosts."
"You want ghosts?" Jake said. "Happy to oblige. The Menger is supposed to be haunted. In theory, old Teddy Roosevelt himself hangs out down in the bar reminiscing about raising the Rough Riders on this very spot in 1898."
"Well, bully for him," Kate grinned, drawing back the curtain and looking down at the tropical courtyard below. She felt the warmth of Jake's presence behind her. When he put his arm around her waist and leaned in to look out the window as well, she put her head on his shoulder. "Thank you for all this," she said. "Are you sure we can't just skip the museum thing and play tourist?"
He kissed her hair. "I'm sure," he said. "Besides, I want to see you in that dress. And I had my tux dry cleaned. That's not cheap you know."
"I'll write you a check," Kate groused.
"How do I know you're good for it?"
"Fine, we can take it out in trade."
"Now that," he said, suggestively waggling his eyebrows, "is a tempting offer, but no sale. Jenny made me promise I would not let you weasel out of getting gussied up and going to this thing with me."
"Hmph," Kate said. "I am going to have to have a word with my dear sister when we get back to the ranch."
"Don't you dare get me in trouble," Jake warned. "That woman has a temper."
"And then some," Kate agreed with a chuckle. "Okay, Professor, you promised me a tour. Let's get going."
For the next few hours, Kate did manage to forget the problems back on the Rocking L. She and Jake explored the hotel and surrounding shops before descending below street level to the city's popular River Walk. They ate Mexican food, drank margaritas, and walked by the water, listening as mariachi bands floated past on open barges.
True to his word, Jake hired a carriage, holding his hand out to Kate as she stepped up to take her seat on the padded leather upholstery. As she had predicted, he treated her to an animated description of the 1836 Battle of the Alamo using modern landmarks and stores to describe troop positions and movements.
When Kate shivered in the chilly night air, Jake removed his jacket and draped it around her shoulders without interrupting the steady flow of his narrative. As she listened to him talk, wrapped in fabric still infused with the heat of his body and redolent with the lingering scent of his aftershave, Kate savored the perfection of the moment.
Sometimes she watched Jake and wondered what unacknowledged prayer of her doubting heart had made him possible. The lazy clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on th
e pavement struck a lulling cadence against Jake’s words and Kate felt filled with an unusual sense of contentment and another emotion, all but alien to her – security.
Back at the room, Kate stopped Jake’s hand when he reached for the light switch. “Let’s just enjoy the moonlight,” she suggested.
In the pale glow from the window, she saw a lazy smile spread over his face as she traced the line of his jaw with her fingers, scratching playfully at the slight scruff of his whiskers.
“You need a shave, Professor.”
“You want me to stop for that now or is in the morning good?” he asked.
She answered him with a kiss that turned into a slow dance to the bed. “What if they’re watching?” Kate murmured against his lips.
Drawing back slightly, Jake asked in a puzzled voice, “What if who is watching?”
“The ghosts,” she teased.
He chuckled low in his throat. “Then they’ll get a good show.”
Sometime around dawn, Kate shifted slightly in Jake’s embrace and picked up her cell phone from the nightstand. Since the shooting, she’d mastered the art of one-handed texting by necessity. Hitting the message icon she typed, “Good morning,” and hit send.
After a second, Jenny’s reply came through. “It’s the crack of dawn. You’re supposed to be on vacation.”
“Habit,” Kate typed. “Everything ok?”
“I’m sitting on your porch at the K-Bar 3 drinking coffee,” Jenny replied. “I’m fine.”
“No trouble at the ranch?”
“Haven’t heard a word. Stop texting me and enjoy your day. Get a picture of you and Jake all dressed up tonight.”
“Will do. Had fun last night. Carriage ride.”
“OMG. He’s getting you to be romantic!”
Kate thumbed through the emojis and found the one with its tongue stuck out. She hit the send button and got an “LOL” in response.
Beside her, Jake half-opened one eye and mumbled, “What time is it?”
“A little after 6,” she said. “Come on sleepy head. We’re burning daylight.”
“Mmrph,” he grumbled, rolling into the pillow and hiding his face.
“I’m ordering a pot of coffee,” Kate said, reaching for the house phone. “Do you want anything else?”
From the depths of the pillow came a muffled. “No, we’ll go down for breakfast. Okay?”
“That’s fine,” she said. “As soon as I order the coffee I’m going to take a shower. Think you can manage to answer the door?”
She took another “mmrph” as a “yes,” placed the call to room service, and went into the bathroom. When she came out several minutes later drying her hair with a towel, Jake was up and looking at the newspaper.
“Hey there,” he said, smiling and reaching to pour a cup of coffee for her. “How are you this morning?”
Kate accepted both the coffee and a good morning kiss. “It is an absolute miracle what caffeine does for you in the morning,” she said. “You were pretty much comatose 20 minutes ago.”
“We don’t all hit the floor ready to conquer the world the way you do, honey,” he said. “I have to get the mental gears loosened up first.”
“Coffee is your version of WD-40?”
“Something like that,” he agreed. “Let me get my shower and then we’ll find food.”
After a leisurely breakfast, they spent the rest of the morning at the Alamo. A helpful tourist snapped a photo of them standing on the brass line set in the pavers of the courtyard in front of the restored mission.
It was on that spot that William Barret Travis offered the garrison’s doomed defenders a chance to leave before the Mexican general, Antonio López de Santa Anna, killed them all.
Kate sent the photo to Jenny. Her response made them both laugh. “Did anybody in that joint think to look for a back door?” When Kate replied, “Don’t blaspheme the cradle of Texas liberty,” Jenny texted, “Remember the Alamo. {crosses self reverently}.”
“She sounds like she’s in a good mood,” Jake said, as they waited to cross a street.
“She needed some time away from everyone and everything this weekend just to think,” Kate replied. “My old place is good for that.”
“We should go over there more,” Jake remarked as they walked toward the San Fernando Cathedral. “I like the K-Bar 3. It’s quiet.”
“That it is,” Kate said. “I used to go a week and more that I’d never see another living soul. I guess I get that from Daddy, too. Thank God I didn’t let it drive me crazy the way he did.”
Jake shook his head. “We’re all a little crazy, honey,” he said, “but if you’ll pardon me for saying so, your father was a special kind of crazy.”
“You won’t get any argument from me on that one.”
After they toured the 265-year-old church and sat quietly together for a few minutes in the sanctuary, Jake announced he was hungry again. Since the River Walk was nearby, they had a late lunch on the patio at a restaurant called Boudro’s before starting back to the Menger.
Strolling along the shady and beautifully landscaped urban oasis, Kate suddenly announced, “I could get used to this.”
“No, you couldn’t,” Jake laughed. “I’m glad you’re having a good time, but you know as well as I do you’ll be itching to get back to the ranch by tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, shrugging helplessly. “You’ve taken up with a boring woman.”
“Not true,” he said. “You’re anything but boring.”
“So what’s the plan for this evening?”
“We should probably get back to the room so I can go over my notes,” he said. “The event starts at 7 o’clock. Rubber chicken dinner first, then me, then dancing. The Institute is sending a car for us about 6:30.”
As it turned out, "going over my notes" meant covering the foot of the bed with meticulously inked and numbered index cards. Kate stared in disbelief. "I'm no technophile by any means," she said, "but isn't this system just a little out of date?"
Jake looked up over his glasses. "The ridiculous part is that I'll probably never look at a one of these when I start talking," he said. "They're just a security blanket. Want to hear a funny story?"
"Sure," she said, sitting down on the only free corner of the mattress.
"When I was in graduate school, I had this absolutely brilliant history professor, Albert Ronson," Jake said. "Every day, he came into class, reached into his suit coat and brought out a single index card, which he very carefully arranged in the center of the lectern. He would then proceed to speak eloquently and in great factual detail for an hour and a half. When he was done, he'd pick up that index card, put it back in his pocket, and walk out the door. It drove us all nuts trying to figure out what in the world could be on one index card that would help him lecture like that."
"Did you ever find out?" Kate asked.
"Well, one day he was called out of the classroom," Jake said, "and I just couldn't stand it any more. I popped right up out of my chair and dashed up to the lectern to look at that card before he came back. Right in the center of the card he'd written a single word, 'Reformation,' which happened to be the topic of the day."
"So the card was nothing but a security blanket?"
"It gets better," Jake went on. "That afternoon, I ran into his graduate assistant and told her the whole story. I asked why in the world such a renowned and learned man would do something like that. She said, 'Oh, that's simple. He gets in front of the class and blanks out. The card reminds him what he's supposed to be talking about.'"
Kate laughed, "Thus you carefully assemble fifty-some odd cards you will never touch because you're afraid of a major blank out?"
"Correct," Jake said.
"That's my absent-minded professor," she said, casually ruffling his hair.
When it was time for them to dress, Kate carried the clothes bag that held the emerald-green evening gown into the bathroom. With a little help from Mandy, she manag
ed to order the right size on the first try. The dress fit beautifully and Kate had practiced putting it on without any help. This evening, however, likely from nerves, the muscles in her shoulder were too stiff. She couldn't reach the zipper.
After several frustrating tries that left her out of breath and risking triggering a painful episode, Kate finally stepped into the room and said, as lightly as she could manage, "Not to sound like some brainless woman in an old movie, but, honey, can you zip me up?"
Jake, more than aware of how much it cost Kate to ever ask for help, kept his tone light as well. "Sure," he said, walking toward her as he shrugged into his suspenders. With his bowtie hanging loosely around the open neck of his tuxedo shirt, Jake might indeed have been a character from an old movie, and a handsome one at that.
Kate turned around, only to shiver when Jake ran his fingers lightly across her bare skin. "Professor," she warned, "be a good boy."
Jake chuckled as he smoothly negotiated the zipper, kissing the back of her neck when he was done. "You look gorgeous," he said.
She hesitated and then asked, quietly, "Do any of the scars show?"
"It wouldn't matter if they did," Jake answered, "but, no, the dress covers them up. How are you going to stabilize your shoulder tonight?"
"Mandy almost had a heart attack at the thought of my wearing the belt like I usually do," Kate said, reaching into her suitcase, which sat on a stand by the dresser. "She found matching material and made this for me." She held up a sling. "Help me put it on?"
"Your little sister is a genius," Jake said, as he eased the sling over Kate's head and then stood back while she positioned her arm, biting his tongue when she grimaced at the effort.
Jake was almost thankful that Kate was usually up and dressed before he came stumbling into the kitchen each morning. He hated watching her go through the ritual of getting her crippled limb into a comfortable position. It was a painful process for her to endure, and almost as painful for him to watch.
When the arm was arranged to her satisfaction, Kate gave him a questioning look. "Well?"
The Lockwood Legacy - Books 1-6: Plus Bonus Short Stories Page 84