To Catch a Texas Star

by Linda Broday

  “Evidently someone didn’t want them to talk.” Roan cursed the blurriness still affecting his eyes. “I think he must’ve been nearby. Close enough to hear the conversation. The shot scared those pigeons from the barn. Could be where the shooter hid.”

  “Yep,” Duel answered.

  They waited for several minutes, listening to the sounds around them. When no other shots came, they emerged from their cover.

  Roan knelt over the body of the downed rider, staring at the perfectly placed hole between his eyes. He removed the bandana. The pimply face showed him to be very young, and Roan didn’t recognize him.

  Duel rifled through his pockets, finding only a bent harmonica, a bag of marbles, and a cold biscuit.

  What was going on here? Counting the boy Roan had unmasked on the night of the attack, and then these, they were all only half-grown. Was it the work of a gang of fresh bloods? Though there had been the rider with the gravelly voice. That rider had definitely been older, and he’d appeared to be the one in charge.

  “McClain, do you think I might’ve been the target?”

  “Nope, you weren’t standing close enough. And the shot came just as this man opened his mouth to spill his guts. The shooter wasn’t aiming at you.” Duel swung to his feet and stared at the barn. “The gunman was facing the riders, not behind them.” He drew his gun and strode toward the structure. Roan hurried to catch up, though his gut told him the shooter had already vanished. Maybe he’d left something behind that could identify him.

  A cat raced for a hiding place when they entered the barn. In the loft, they discovered a matchstick, the leavings of at least half a dozen cigarettes, and an empty Bull Durham sack. No telling how long the shooter had been sitting there watching. Maybe he’d slept there too, only yards away from Roan and Duel in their bedrolls. The hair rose on Roan’s neck. Whoever it was could’ve killed them at any time.

  If that was so, what had stopped him?

  Roan glanced around, looking for any other clue. “He was up here a while, watching us. I wonder why he waited so long to make his move? Any thoughts, McClain?”

  “Definitely here since early morning,” Duel answered. “I doubt he slept here, or there’d be more telltale signs.”

  “I guess we might as well head down. I’ll tote that body into town to the sheriff.” Roan moved to the ladder but paused. He picked up a long silk thread—red—from bits of hay and dirt. “What do you make of this? It certainly isn’t anything Mose would’ve had. A woman?”

  Duel took it and scowled. “Has to be from a woman.”

  The mystery deepened. “No women ever came to visit Mose and me.” So who? Roan puzzled over it all the way back to the man lying on the ground. He glanced at Duel. “I don’t suppose you could spare an hour to go into town with me. It would be just like this bunch to accuse me of firing the fatal shot.”

  “I can spare the time.”

  They put the young man over his horse and rode toward San Saba.

  Duel broke the silence. “Where did you learn to handle a gun like that? You’re fast.”

  “Just practiced a little,” Roan admitted. “It pays a man to be good with any weapon he carries, otherwise it’ll get him killed. I’m not ready to die.”

  “I assume you’re just as skilled with that big knife you carry.”

  “I do all right. I stabbed one of those hooded riders with it the other night.” Roan explained about leaving his holster and Colt inside Mose’s cabin, and what it had cost him. “If I’d had it on, I could’ve made a difference.”

  Duel studied him. “Maybe or maybe not. Don’t second-guess yourself.”

  They rode a little farther before Roan spoke. “Is that job still open?”

  “It is.” Duel allowed a grin. “Glad to see you changed your mind.”

  There had been a lot of wisdom in Duel’s advice. He had to be smart about this. There was nothing left here except retribution, and that would come later. After he came up with a plan, at a time and place of his own choosing.

  When the gang least expected it.

  He’d haunt their dreams and take his revenge very, very slowly.

  Nine

  The sign hanging above the sheriff’s office creaked in the wind, and a dog barked in the distance. Other than that, San Saba was eerily silent.

  Roan and Duel found the wavy-haired Sheriff Coburn sitting on the boardwalk outside his office, reading a newspaper. Coburn looked younger than Roan, and he didn’t bother to glance up when they stopped at the hitching rail with the dead man draped over his own mount. Roan had heard rumors about the sheriff’s skill with a gun, and the man was reportedly mighty anxious to prove himself, locking up or burying anyone who crossed him.

  They both dismounted. Only then did Coburn spare them a look.

  “We have business with you, Sheriff.” Roan motioned to the body on the horse. “This man tried to run us off Mose Mozeke’s land. He was about to tell us who killed Mozeke when a shot rang out from the barn and struck him.”

  “I’m supposed to just take your word that’s what happened? I wouldn’t believe you if you said the sky is blue.” The sheriff’s hard words could’ve frozen a piece of iron. “You were living out there with the mangy squatter.”

  “Mose had a deed. That land legally belonged to him and everyone knows it. I guess that doesn’t count around here.” Roan swallowed the rest of what he wanted to say, knowing nothing he said would make a difference. He glanced at Duel and noticed how the rancher shifted, drawing the sheriff’s attention, quietly letting his presence be known without uttering a word.

  “Things will go smoother with the troublemaker dead,” the sheriff snarled.

  Anger blazed through Roan. “I see you know about Mozeke’s death.”

  “I know everything that goes on in my county.” The sheriff turned to Duel. “Who are you?”

  Duel rested one foot on the edge of the boardwalk. “Duel McClain. I own the Aces ’n’ Eights spread over in McCulloch County. Maybe you’ve heard of me. I’ve got a bunch of rustlers stealing my cattle. I don’t suppose you know anything about that either.”

  “Nope. Not my problem.”

  “What are you going to do about Mozeke?” Roan asked. “Masked riders came onto his property and killed him outright.”

  Sheriff Coburn shrugged. “Give the riders a medal? From the looks of you, it appears they gave you a beating for interfering. And don’t bother making a complaint, because it won’t do you any good, Penny. I heard you don’t know their identities.”

  Who exactly told Coburn that? The whole thing left Roan with a sour taste. He burned with an itch to slam a fist in the sheriff’s weak jaw, but he took a deep breath instead and strode to the body they’d brought in. “Do you know this man?”

  Coburn moved closer to look. “Yep. That’s Maxfield’s son, George. Rube’s going to come after you with guns blazing, Penny.”

  Who was Rube? Roan had never heard the name.

  “Look, Sheriff,” Duel said hotly. “We didn’t do this. Anyone who says otherwise better be prepared to stand behind the accusation.” He took a step forward. Coburn backed up and rested his hand on the walnut grip of his gun.

  Roan spoke up. “We just wanted to do the right thing, but I can already see that was a mistake. We should’ve let him rot on the ground like those hooded murderers did to Mose.”

  Rage mottled the sheriff’s face. “Get out of my town before I throw you both in jail!”

  “A pleasure.” Roan untied Shadow and mounted. Duel did the same, and they galloped toward fresher air. One thing at least, Roan’s question had been answered. The law wasn’t on Mose’s side, and no justice was to be found there. It was entirely up to Roan.

  * * *

  Marley heard riders just after dark. She flew to the window of her small house and watched her father and Roan head
to the barn. He’d returned. Her heart fluttered as she raced out the door. The sight of his proud shoulders and the chiseled set of his purple-bruised jaw took her breath from her chest. The slowly healing mass of blood and bruises was becoming a strange patchwork quilt of his honor and courage. She remembered the scars she’d seen on his back, marks that bore witness to someone’s long-ago rage.

  Roan had already removed the bridle and was slipping a halter on an unfamiliar dappled gray mare, while her father took care of the other animals.

  “You’re back after all.” Marley noticed the half smile on Roan’s weary face when he glanced her way. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”

  “Got an offer I couldn’t refuse.” He met Duel’s gaze. “Your father offered me a job.”

  “And?” She watched Roan bend to uncinch the girth. When he stood, her hands collided with his. A delicious shiver ran through her. He, on the other hand, appeared completely unaffected by their accidental touch.

  “Gave me a comfortable bed in the bunkhouse, even though my legs will probably stick off the end.”

  “And?” she prodded.

  Roan walked around his mare and rested an arm on the saddle. “Look, Marley. If you’re fishing, maybe you should use better bait.”

  Heat rose to her face. She’d been too nosy again. Darn it, when could she learn to hold her tongue? “I’m glad you’re staying,” she finally said.

  “It’s only temporary.” His eyes met hers in the dim light, and she felt as though she stood in the middle of a lightning storm. “I’m moving on as soon as I’m able.” He struggled to lift off the saddle and heaved it over a rail. Judging by the white line around his mouth, the task appeared to take what little energy he had left.

  She grabbed the gray horse blanket and laid it on the saddle. Temporary was better than nothing, even though disappointment wound through her. “Maybe you’ll change your mind.” Anything was possible.

  He wearily wiped his eyes. “I don’t see permanence in my future.”

  Because he’d never had any or because he didn’t want it? What man would be satisfied moving from place to place? She thought of the letter he’d left and the longing in the words. She’d just have to show him the advantages of staying put.

  Marley ached for him and all he’d suffered. She said quietly, “You’re about to drop. I can help you make this go faster.”

  “I already have it, but thanks for the offer, Marley.”

  “Matt’s been pestering us half to death, wanting to know when you’d be home.” She gave him a smile. “I guess you know you’ve put ideas in his head. Next, he’ll be sneaking behind the barn to drink whiskey and smoke.”

  “No need to worry. Matt’s just a little kid.”

  She laughed. “He’s a boy with big ambitions.” She changed the subject. “Did you have trouble at your friend’s farm?”

  Roan’s arm brushed against hers as he led his mare to a stall. “Depends on your definition of trouble.”

  Worry twisted into a knot in her stomach. “I gather things didn’t go well.”

  “I did what I went to do, then this morning, two riders challenged our right to be on Mose’s land.” He attached the heavy rope across the stall door. “One got shot and died. Not by our hands, though. From someone hiding in the loft.”

  Marley gave a cry and grabbed his arm. “Was this person shooting at you or my father?”

  “I don’t think so.” Roan hung the tack on a hook on the wall.

  Duel paused in brushing his black gelding. “The man’s beat to a frazzle and hurting, Marley Rose. The ride about did him in. He can use some food and a bed.”

  Heat rushed to Marley’s face, and she mentally kicked herself. One day she’d learn to behave like a proper lady. “Of course. Mama is keeping supper warm for you both. I guess I’ll run along.” She reined in her happiness at seeing him and turned toward her home.

  “Wait,” Roan called. “Will you walk with me?”

  “Sure. You’re probably still unfamiliar with things. After all, you’ve not eaten at the main house before.” She grinned. “Just be prepared for a huge dose of hero worship. Unless I miss my guess, Matt’s looking out the window right now. I’ll do the best I can to keep him quiet.”

  And herself too. She was babbling, but she couldn’t help it. He’d asked for her company.

  He offered his elbow and Marley took it. They strolled toward the main house, with her skirts swishing against his leg. The brisk fall air and the fragrant smell of the fireplaces added to the feeling that everything was all right. Roan had returned. Maybe she could convince him to stay—for his own health if for no other reason.

  Unsure of what to say, she studied his bruised profile. “I found the letter you left. Our paths did cross for a reason, and I’m glad I could give you hope as well as treat your wounds.”

  “I never intended to come back, or I wouldn’t have left the letter,” he said low. “I thought you had a right to know how your kindness and companionship touched me.” His gaze sought hers, and she saw something in the depths that said he didn’t think he had the right to have someone care. “I haven’t had much of that in a while, not from a lady.”

  “Roan, on the third Saturday of every month, there’s a dance in town. When you fully recover, maybe you’d like to go sometime?” She rushed to add, heat flooding her cheeks, “It would be good to go with a…with a friend.”

  He was silent for a minute. “Remember, this job is only temporary.”

  “I understand.” Her hopes fell and she dropped her gaze.

  The lines of Roan’s face deepened. He shifted his stance, then let out a deep sigh and muttered something she couldn’t make out. Maybe he couldn’t allow himself to accept even a moment of fun or let anything steer him from his commitment.

  Finally, he met her gaze, speaking softly. “If you don’t mind teaching me, I’ll try to learn to dance. Just in case I’m still around.”

  Marley’s heart thudded against her ribs. “Waltzes are easy. Mostly, you just shuffle your feet. I know you’ll be a natural.” It was the ones who appeared to have a board in their spines and wouldn’t bend to save their lives who couldn’t learn. Roan didn’t appear to be like that.

  “I’ll just have to take your word for it.” He glanced at the sky. “Look up.”

  She did and gasped. The sky was alive with shooting stars. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

  “It’s a meteor shower.”

  “A what?” She’d never heard the term.

  “Meteors. They’re particles of frozen rock that burn up as they fall to earth,” he explained softly.

  “Where did you learn that?”

  “The widow who raised me was an old schoolteacher, and among the things Mrs. Harper taught me was astronomy. We’d watch the night sky, and I learned the names of all the planets and constellations. She died when I was twelve, but I haven’t broken myself of the habit of watching the skies.” Roan’s voice turned wistful.

  “You must miss her something terrible.”

  “I do. She was full of interesting information. Mrs. Harper was ancient and couldn’t get around very well, and at first I hated living with her, but I came to love her.”

  Marley wanted to ask what happened to his parents, but she didn’t want to pry. He’d tell her in his own good time as they got better acquainted. She pulled her gaze from his face and glanced again at the sky.

  “I think I like shooting stars better then shooting meteors. Just has a better ring to it,” she said. Looking up, she became unsteady and began to sway.

  Roan reached for her, his breath teasing the hair at her temples. “You can call them stars—or anything you like,” he said huskily.

  The sensation of falling again came over her even though she was anchored to this man who knew about so many things.

  �
�I like being correct when possible,” she managed to whisper, taking his elbow again.

  He hesitated, visibly struggling between desire and restraint before saying, “Marley, I don’t know what life holds for me, and I never want to lead you on or hurt you. I value your friendship too much for that.”

  “We just go where life leads us. None of us have a map. Let’s just enjoy the time we have together and not worry about the future. No promises, no regrets. Deal?”

  He gave her a tired smile. “Deal.”

  They strolled into her parent’s kitchen, and kids came from everywhere, all curious about this tall drifter with the devastating injuries.

  Jessie hurried in after them. “Shoo! Mr. Penny needs to eat in peace without you watching him take every single bite.”

  “But Marley Rose gets to stay,” argued Allie, one of the older girls.

  “She’s different—she’s helping me, and besides, she’s the oldest.” Jessie put an arm around the fifteen-year-old and kissed her cheek. “Honey, can you keep the little ones occupied until Mr. Penny finishes eating?”

  Matthew quietly stole next to Marley and hid behind her dress. The sweet boy knew Jessie would find him, but Marley didn’t have the heart to tell on him.

  Allie’s loud huff filled the room. “I guess, but it isn’t fair.”

  “You’re going to find that not everything about life is fair,” Jessie answered. “Mr. Penny, take a seat at the table and Marley will get your plate from the warming oven.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he answered. “But please call me Roan. I’m not a mister anything.”

  “Okay…Roan.” A baby’s cries came from farther inside the house, and Jessie grabbed a baby bottle from a pan of water. “When your father comes in, tell him I’ll be back.”

  “I will, Mama,” Marley said, setting a plate of meat and potatoes in front of Roan. Matthew still hid behind her, and when she sat down, the boy climbed into her lap. She gave him a stern look. “Matt, say one word and I’ll make you leave.”

  “I promise, Mama Rose.” He placed his fingers to his lips and buttoned them.