Texas Passion

by Sara Orwig

  He sat down, shifting his gaze, feeling aroused, angry. And he couldn’t avoid remorse. He liked Eb Kearney. And he hadn’t liked Luther Eubanks. Yet Luther Eubanks knew enough to stay inside the law.

  A cynical voice taunted Dan and he thought of his past. Over years now he had hunted down lawbreakers and brought them to justice time and again. Yet his own dark past held a guarded secret that only he knew, and only one man guessed.

  He stared into the night, wondering if his past would ever catch up with him, thinking about Walker Marland, the beefy blond Southern aristocrat who suspected the truth. Marland had been a blockade runner the early years and then joined the Union Army. Dan heard about him from time to time and knew he had a post in Washington with the government, that he had come out of the war well-fixed. The mutual hate between them would mean a fight to the end if they ever met, but at the moment Washington and Texas were half a continent apart and it seemed unlikely Dan would cross paths with Marland.

  “You still have family?” Eb asked him quietly, bringing Dan’s thoughts back to the present.

  “Yes, sir. My parents reside in New Orleans now,” he answered truthfully, knowing it was easier to stick as close to the truth as possible. Had Eb Kearney done the same thing? “My folks lost everything in Baton Rouge and moved to New Orleans. My father works in a bank. He had his own bank in Baton Rouge.”

  “Did you work for him?”

  “Yes, sir, for a short time.” Dan rarely talked about his past and he felt uncomfortable doing so now. “I wasn’t meant to stay in a small office behind a desk.”

  “Some men aren’t. I need the space of the outdoors, the land, the freedom. I’d rather die than be caged up again.”

  Dan turned to look at Eb Kearney, thinking about taking him back to prison and trial and probably a hanging.

  “You think someone’s after us, don’t you?” Eb asked quietly.

  “Yes, sir. I heard a horse once today. I feel like someone is trailing us.”

  “I can’t see well enough to spot anyone. They ought to know we don’t have much.”

  “You have two pretty women and you’re one wagon, only two men. That’s easy to take.”

  “Not with you along.”

  “They don’t know that and even if I’m here, I can fight only so many men successfully.”

  “Where did you fight during the war?”

  “I was in Tennessee. Then I was transferred and served under General Sherman in Georgia.”

  “You’re a Southern man whose parents lost what they had, yet you fought with Sherman?”

  “My father is a Northerner. He worked in the South and had a chance to become a partner in a bank in Baton Rouge, so he took the opportunity. That was before I was born. He was successful and I grew up in Baton Rouge,” Dan said, knowing they would never check on his background or what he did after he left Baton Rouge. “I didn’t want the South to break away. My father wasn’t a slaveholder, so our sentiments were different.”

  He shifted his weight, and glanced at Eb. “Sir, if you want to sleep, I can call you. Nothing seems to be happening.”

  “I’ll watch a while. I slept during the day. You’re the one going without sleep night after night.”

  “I catch up.”

  They became quiet, Dan still unable to shake the feeling they were being watched. After a time he heard a soft snore and glanced around. Eb’s chin rested on his chest.

  Dan let him sleep, because he could wake him in seconds. His gaze shifted to Rachel, drifting over her curves. He longed to stretch out beside her and pull her to him. He looked at Lissa and wondered about her. Who’s child was she?

  Visions of a cool stream danced in mind and then visions of Rachel beside the stream today came, memories of her hot kisses. He wanted to groan and swear. He couldn’t get her out of mind. Sassy, strong-willed, she had fought him continually, yet he had to admit he could understand why. She had full responsibility for everyone in her family. Josh tried to help her, and there were moments when Eb seemed to rally, but the responsibility rested squarely on her shoulders. Dan knew from leading men, once he took charge, it was natural to keep making the decisions and to dislike interference. He looked at her and smiled. She disliked interference, all right.

  He raised his head, his gaze sweeping the dark plains. It wasn’t Comanche, or they would have approached by now. He would rather cope with renegades than the Comanche although his Kiowa blood might save them, because the Kiowa and Comanche traveled together and shared peace.

  Morning came and they were on the trail before the sun rose above the horizon. Mounted on the bay, Rachel rode beside him ahead of the wagon.

  “You still think we’re being followed?”

  “The night was uneventful, but I think so. I can’t shake that feeling.”

  “Want to sleep? You can ride in the wagon.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, glancing at her. She looked bright-eyed and fresh even though he knew she was wearing the same clothes she had slept in.

  “What I’d like most right now,” she said, gazing in the distance, “is a clear stream and a chance to bathe.”

  His head swung around, and he wondered if she had any idea the effect of her statement on him. Images of her, pale and naked, in a shallow stream drifted through his mind.

  “Sorry, but that’s out even if we find the stream.”

  “You still think there’s someone after us, but we haven’t seen anyone. Why would they wait through the night?”

  “I could be wrong. Or they might be waiting for a better place to attack. Wear that revolver all the time.”

  “You give a lot of orders, Major.”

  “And you obey only a fraction,” he answered dryly, amused and mildly annoyed. “Drop the damned major. I want to forget.”

  “It’s difficult to drop your rank when you act like a military man. I told Josh he could ride,” she said, wheeling her horse around before Dan could answer. He watched her head back to the wagon, the denim pants pulled tight across her round bottom as she sat in the saddle.

  Later in the morning Dan dropped back to ride beside Eb.

  “I’m certain we’re being followed. Rachel should get into the wagon. Someone should watch out the back. Have your rifle ready.”

  Rachel heard his instructions and climbed into the wagon, getting the Colt and moving to the back.

  “What’s wrong?” Abigail asked.

  “Dan Overton thinks we’re being followed by someone. You and Josh watch Lissa.”

  Threading her way through their belongings, she moved to the back, her gaze sweeping the trail behind them. She felt vulnerable, wishing they had made the trek with a wagontrain. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary and settled on a crate, propping her arm on the back of the wagon.

  After thirty minutes, she wiped her perspiring brow and moved to the front of the wagon to climb on the seat beside Pa. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Neither have we, but I think Dan still feels we have someone on our trail.”

  Dan rode close to the team, his rifle in hand and the hairs on the nape of her neck prickled, because she knew he was watching for something. They rode over a rise that dipped down where the trail crossed a creek. Rocks and trees were thick on both sides of the stream. Dan Overton wheeled his horse around and rode back to them, motioning to them to halt.

  He glanced down at the creek. As the sorrel pranced close to the wagon, Dan jerked his head in the direction of the stream. “Up ahead is a natural place for an ambush. The trail crosses a shallow creek. Anyone can easily be hiding on the other side of the draw or in the trees. The women and children should get down in the wagon. Eb, you drive the wagon through and I’ll lead the way. If trouble starts, keep going. I’ll drop back to cover you.”

  “You think it’s men from the town we went through yesterday?” Eb asked.

  Major Overton shrugged. “It could be. I don’t think we’ll gain anything by doubling back. Sooner or later, we’ll
have to face them, so it might as well be now.”

  “Thank you, Major Overton, for your help.”

  As Dan looked at Pa, something flickered in the depths of his dark eyes. Was it remorse? Surprise? Or simply gratitude that Pa thanked him. Dan Overton’s gaze shifted. His dark eyes settled on Rachel, and she felt the silent clash between them without a word spoken.

  “You get back in the wagon.”

  Wanting to refuse to do what he ordered, she bit back a retort. He knew she needed to ride beside Pa to help him.

  “It just isn’t in you, is it, Red, to take orders,” he said.

  “I’ll ride beside Pa. I can drive the wagon while he fires his rifle.”

  “Rachel—”

  “Pa, I’ll ride up here. I’ll tell Abigail to get down and keep Josh—” She broke off as Dan Overton stood up in the stirrups. With a startling swiftness he swung over onto the seat and picked her up, lifting her back into the wagon.

  “What—”

  He leaned within inches of her face and his snapping eyes made her close her mouth. “You stay inside, or I’ll tie you in here,” he said, his low voice laced with steel. “Your baby and your brother both need you.” He climbed out and disappeared as he dropped down into the saddle.

  Stunned, she stood immobile, clutching the wagon as it began to roll, seeing only his flashing brown eyes. In seconds Pa cracked a whip and the wagon lurched forward, the team breaking into a gallop. With a wild whoop that sent chills running down Rachel’s spine, Dan Overton tore ahead.

  Yelling and kicking his horse, Dan placed the reins between his teeth. As the sorrel lunged forward Dan held his rifle in his right hand, the Colt with his left.

  Pa let out a whoop that startled her. Knowing Pa needed help, she leaned down to pick up the Winchester. She clutched the seat, terrified they would spill, stunned by Dan Overton who rode recklessly ahead of them, guns blazing.

  A shot took out a chip of the wagon, and her heart lurched.

  “Ambush!” she yelled to Abigail and Josh. “Get down!”

  Chapter 8

  Terrified, Rachel fired the rifle. Abby screamed and Lissa’s cries filled the air, but Rachel couldn’t glance back at them. A thunk sounded and a chip of wood from the plank seat struck her hand. Pa flicked the reins, leaning forward as they raced toward the creek.

  While the team and wagon tore down the slope, gunfire was deafening. They hit the shallow creek, plumes of water spraying high when they charged through.

  The wagon raced past him, and Dan Overton wheeled his horse around. She heard the empty click of the rifle and sat back to reload. Another volley of shots rang out, and as she raised up to fire, Pa slumped over.

  “Pa!” she screamed, scrambling onto the seat and grabbing the reins. The wagon rolled up the slope and over a hill, the ground leveling off as they tore along. The wagon shuddered and bounced, the horses’s manes flying in the wind, lather showing on their sleek coats.

  Feeling they were out of the crossfire, she glanced at her father who was sprawled across the seat. Abigail bent over him and pressed a cloth to his shoulder.

  She looked up at Rachel. “Pa’s alive!” she shouted above the noise. Behind them there were more gunshots.

  Where was Dan Overton? Would they have to go back for him if he was hit? In minutes the only sound was the wagon creaking and rattling, the pounding of the horses. She tugged on the reins, and they slowed as Dan Overton galloped up alongside them.

  “Pa’s hit!” she shouted.

  “Keep going until we’re clear!” Major Overton shouted in return, waving his arm.

  She felt terrified for Pa, wanting to stop, yet afraid now to go against Dan Overton’s orders because danger was all too close behind them. And when they stopped, she didn’t know how to take care of gunshot wounds. She glanced down to see Pa’s eyes flutter open. How long before they could stop and tend to Pa?

  Unaware tears of fright for Pa streaked her cheeks, she held the reins tightly, watching the ground flash past, knowing a big rock on the trail could send the wagon tumbling.

  In minutes Dan Overton rode closer, suddenly clambering onto the wagon, tying his horse’s reins to the wagon.

  “Keep going, but slower!” he yelled. He knelt beside Eb, lifting the cloth Abigail held to staunch the flow of blood. “Josh, watch out the back of the wagon. You see anyone, tell me.”

  “Yes, sir,” Josh replied, going to the back while Dan turned Pa, looking at the wound. Rachel glanced down and drew her breath, icy fear stabbing her at the sight of the dark stain of red soaking Pa’s shirt.

  Dan reached over to take the reins from her hands, tugging on them and slowing the team. While they rolled to a halt, Dan looked at Rachel across Pa’s limp body.

  “You can ride for San Antonio, but you’re still more than a couple of days’ ride from there. If we turn northwest, leave this trail, there may be a band of Kiowa that wait to hunt the buffalo. If they haven’t moved north yet, I think we can find the camp before sundown.”

  “Can they help Pa? Will they allow whites into their camp?”

  “They’ll accept all of you because you’re with me. Two women, a wounded, frail old man, and two children will be accepted. They probably would not allow your husband. The bullet looks as if it passed through his shoulder and is high enough that it didn’t hit anything vital. His pulse is good. They’ve treated gunshot wounds and their medicine men are good healers.”

  She debated swiftly—ride north—completely off their route and away from their destination, away from civilization. Ride into a camp of what she had always thought were savages? Had the whole incident been a trap? Or had it been just what it appeared? Renegades attempting to ambush them. And if they tried to get to San Antonio and Pa was untreated for another two or three days—would he survive? Waiting for her decision and holding Lissa, Abigail and Josh looked at her. Rachel nodded. “Tell me which way to go.”

  “Northwest. For now, to avoid doubling back on the bushwhackers, we’ll head west across country.” As he looked at her, she met his gaze squarely, wondering about him, because she was placing her life and the lives of everyone in her family in his hands.

  With ease Dan picked up Eb and lifted him into the wagon to a pallet. He turned to Abigail. “We’re far enough away from the bushwhackers. They’re not following us. Get some alcohol, and I can bathe the wound now.” While he talked, Dan cut away Pa’s shirt.

  In seconds Rachel handed Dan a bottle. Dreading the next few moments, she closed her eyes. Pa was going to hurt badly, yet he would be better off to have the wound cleaned.

  “Dan?” Pa groaned and gripped Dan’s arm.

  “You’re hit, Mr. Kearney. We’re going to get help. It’s not a bad wound in spite of the hurt. Here, sir.” Tilting up Pa’s head, Dan raised the bottle to his lips. “This will help during the ride. I’m going to pour alcohol on your wound. Take a long drink.”

  Pa drank deeply, and Dan lowered his head carefully. Gripping the seat, Rachel closed her eyes, hating it when she heard Pa gasp.

  “Turn a little,” Dan said. “Once more.”

  This time Pa cried out, and Rachel clamped her jaw closed.

  “He’s passed out,” Dan said, corking the bottle. She looked back to watch him bunch up the shirt and place it against Pa’s wounded shoulder. He replaced the other cloth in front.

  “Keep the cloths pressed tightly against the wound, Abigail, while I bandage him. This will do until we get help. Josh, you bathe his face with cool water and try to keep him cooled down. Every once in a while, look out the back to see if anyone is trailing after us.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “If anything changes,” he said to Abigail, “let me know.” He moved past Lissa who stood watching with wide eyes. He brushed her curls and she looked up at him. He gave her a smile and knelt beside her. “Be a good girl.”

  “Is Pa hurt?”

  “Yes, but he’ll be better soon.”

  “Is someone going to
shoot at us?”

  “No, we’re all safe now,” he said gently. Rachel prayed he was right in what he promised Lissa. As he climbed up beside Rachel, he squeezed her shoulder, a touch that was brief, but reassuring. “Ready?”

  “Yes. What about the men behind us?”

  “I’ll watch for them, and I told Josh to watch. Let’s go.”

  He climbed into the saddle and turned his horse. They left the trail and suddenly she felt adrift, frightened and uncertain. Pa was wounded and they were riding with a man they really knew nothing about, following his lead and his orders now. Would he take them to safety or into more danger?

  She glanced back. Pa seemed to be dozing while Abigail bathed his face, held a cloth against his shoulder with her other hand. Josh was at the back of the wagon.

  The land was rough and they had to skirt thickets and rugged draws. Gradually the terrain changed becoming level, covered with mesquite trees. The sun slanted into the sky and for a time they were headed due west, but eventually she realized they had angled north.

  Even if he had told them the truth and his people had been camped to the northwest, would he be able to find them? Could they have moved elsewhere by now?

  During late afternoon she watched as Dan yanked off his shirt and stuffed it into a saddlebag. Muscles rippled in his back when he raised his arms to untie the bandanna from his neck and tie it around across his brow. She watched as he changed in appearance; with his long, black hair, bare chest, and headband, he looked like his Kiowa relatives. He glanced at her, and she met his gaze. He looked as hard and wild as the land around them.

  Her worries and fears increased when the sun slipped below the horizon throwing up a sky streaked with vivid red streamers, bathing the clouds in pink. The earth cooled and dusk set in and she reached for her revolver. Suppose the Kiowa had moved on? Suppose they had never camped in the area? The earth seemed vast and empty and forbidding. She glanced over her shoulder into the wagon, but in the dusk, she couldn’t see well enough to tell whether Pa was conscious or not.