Catch a Shooting Star jd edit 03 12 2012 html

by Brianna Lee McKenzie

  “He had a son, Richard, and of course, his daughter Savannah. But Richard died six years ago of pneumonia, so Savannah is the sole heir. Now, her father is dying and she is getting married. Who knows what will become of the plantation but it will stay in the family no matter what. Benjamin told me years ago when he was having trouble with his finances that he was doing his best to make sure that he honored his family’s tradition to never sell the land or the house to anyone. I hope that Savannah has the same fortitude that her father has and his fathers had before him.”

  “I’m sure she will,” Travis said finally, nodding his head. “It just seemed very strange that she was afraid to go home that night.”

  “Yes, that does seem strange. She loves her home and her father immensely,” the pastor told him, nodding toward the road that they would be turning on. “That’s the entrance to the plantation.”

  Travis slowed to let the buggy pass and turn into the long, tree-lined driveway of the plantation. He was mesmerized by the moss that dripped from the branches of the trees, making the lane seem dark and ominous. Far ahead, he saw the grand house with the thick white columns and double porches, standing in a lush meadow in all its glory.

  Remembering the night that he had rode up to that looming mansion with that small, shadowy woman clinging to him, he felt a tug of excitement at seeing Savannah again. But, he shrugged it off, knowing that he had decided the moment that he’d gotten that telegram that this was his only chance to exact his revenge on the man who had murdered his wife, and that he was coming to possibly make Savannah a widow before she was even married. If she truly loved the Mexican, she would probably hate Travis for his deed, but if Fernandez was still the cruel man who had killed his Melody, the girl would appreciate being relieved of his brutality. So, wrestling with the task that he knew he must carry out, he followed the pastor’s buggy down the path to his destiny.

  His heart beat erratically in his chest as the house became larger and larger, the trees seemingly closing in on him as he reasoned back and forth with the dilemma now at hand. How could he murder the man while this preacher was with him? He argued with himself as he watched the footfalls of the small black horse in front of the dancing buggy. Would the Godly man condemn him on the spot without asking why Travis had been compelled to rid the world of that hateful man? Or would he forgive him and commend him for his righteous actions?

  There was no need to answer either question, for in an instant, a flash of black darted out of the trees and whirled in a rearing pirouette in front of the buggy, causing the horse that was hitched to it to rear in response. Just as surprised by the other horse’s sudden appearance, the preacher tried desperately to calm the snorting pony at the end of his reins.

  Seeing the difficulty that the old man was having, Travis kicked Blazer into action and galloped toward the small horse to settle it down with his calming words and a stiff hold on the bit.

  “I’m sorry,” the girl on the black horse apologized as she quieted down her own horse. “I didn’t see you there.”

  Travis set his mouth to reprimand the intruder, but thought better of it when he recognized her voice and then saw her intriguing face. Dumbfounded for a few seconds, he only found the fortitude to tip his hat in gentlemanly fashion while he took in her awesome features.

  From somewhere far away, he heard the preacher tell the girl that no harm was done and polite conversation volleyed between the old man and the girl as Travis stared in awestruck wonder at her. The deep black of her hair gleamed in the morning sunshine while it draped her slender shoulders, making her appear angel-like in her stark white riding habit. Her tiny face, which reminded him of a china doll that his parent’s catalogue company sold with its pale skin and rosy cheeks and lips, was child-like in its smallness, yet every feature of it boasted the face of a full-grown woman. The shoulders that jutted backwards above a straight, narrow back and waist were equal width to the hips that sat proudly in the gentleman’s riding saddle beneath her. And her bosom, which prominently thrust itself outwardly without her knowledge or even instigating it, rose and fell in a voluptuous rhythm that caused his breathing to hasten erratically.

  His heart skipped a beat when she addressed him in a cool and dismissive tone, “Are you coming to see my father?”

  Travis started to stammer in response, but caught himself and cleared his throat as he answered, “Not exactly.” He shifted in his saddle and tapped a finger to his Stetson in polite regard before he continued, “You may not remember me, but we met a few nights ago. In a storm.”

  Savannah narrowed her eyes at the man who addressed her in more familiarity than she wanted to allow, but somehow, she felt that she did remember him. It had been dark and rainy and the only time she was able to see his face that night was when the lightning sparked and illuminated his chiseled features. Now, in the daylight, she saw him clearly and brilliantly as the morning sun carved out his handsome appearance. The tan Stetson, which he had pushed back as he had saluted her, revealed thick light brown hair that curled up at the collar of his off-white shirt. Her eyes followed the leather vest that barely covered the large barrel chest. Her gaze floated across the broad, muscular shoulders and then down the sleeves of the shirt, which had been rolled up to his forearms threatening to breech their stitches and expose the bulging strength beneath them. Daringly, she lowered her eyes to his equally powerful legs that hugged the sides of the big Palomino with rippling vigor and then down to the large boots that tipped up in the stirrups, having no problem keeping the giant horse in check.

  Savannah’s eyes followed his body’s lines back up to his handsome face and she could not help but smile at the memory of those full lips that had come so close to kissing her that night in the pouring rain. Her heart fluttered when she saw the hazel, almost brown, eyes that had beheld her so comfortingly while she had shivered in his arms. She swallowed hard against the dry lump in her throat when she took in the firm jaw line that rounded ever so slightly at the tip of his chin and then, as her eyes jumped from there to his cheeks, she had to smile at the dimples that revealed themselves when his mouth turned up in a grin that melted her heart all over again.

  “Yes,” she started, still staring at him in awe. “Yes, I do remember you. Travis was it?”

  Nodding, Travis widened his smile and reminded her, “I saved your life.”

  Savannah bowed her head in embarrassment, but then raised it in defense as she replied, “Well, I’m sure Dancer would have slowed down eventually and could have regained my control of him.”

  Upon hearing his name, the black gelding sidestepped into the belly of the golden Palomino, snorting and nodding his onyx head at the much larger horse. Blazer merely snorted back, ignoring the smaller horse’s show of supremacy while pricking his ears back toward his rider for guidance. When Travis clucked his tongue, Blazer obediently moved away from the smaller horse and its petite woman rider who pulled back on the reins in an effort to restrain her prancing mount.

  “I’m sure,” Travis coughed to conceal the chuckle that welled up in his throat. “But, that storm sure had you shaken up.”

  Changing his tone of voice, he cocked his head in question as he queried with genuine concern, “Or was it only the storm that had you so terrified?”

  Remembering her reluctance to go toward the man who would soon be her husband, she shivered slightly and answered, “Yes. The storm…”

  Her breath seemed to stop but she forced it to continue and composed herself under the man’s scrutiny as she added, “But, the storm is over now.”

  Thinking that she had put an end to his cross-examination, she nodded curtly and took the reins into her small gloved hands. Just as she was sending her heels into Dancer’s ribs, the tall stranger’s hand shot out and caught the bridle and the horse danced to the side and stopped in its tracks, causing Savannah to drop the leather straps and grab a firm hold on the pommel of the saddle. Almost cursing him out loud, she glowered at him with defiance and re
ached for the reins again.

  “So,” Travis began as he set her horse free and sat back in his saddle in superiority. “You’re not afraid of the man you are going to marry?”

  Savannah looked at him with both trepidation and anger at his interference in her life, but she took in a breath and assured the stranger, “Why should I be? My father trusts him and they are good friends. Diego has been nothing but kind to me since we met.”

  Knowing that was a lie and hoping that Travis would believe her, she continued to make the Mexican don seem nicer than he really was, “I’m sure that I will be very happy as his wife and I would appreciate it if you would kindly stay out of my affairs.”

  Travis winced at the name that she had so endearingly uttered but maintained his composure as he watched her ready herself to kick her mount into action again. He pulled hard on his reins, taking his anger out on his own horse as he wheeled the Palomino in a circle and back around to face her as he growled, “Well, I certainly hope that you know what you are getting yourself into, Miss Star. And, I hope that you and “El Diablo” will be very happy together.”

  His anger rising higher, he knew that this woman would never listen to his argument about the man who had killed another woman. She was set in her path to marry this criminal. And, true to his prediction, nothing that Travis could say would deter her. So he twirled his mount around tipped his hat to the preacher, who had sat in his buggy with a confused expression on his face. A tap to the Palomino’s ribs and he sent the horse in a hard gallop away from the woman who had refused his help.

  Savannah watched Travis charge away in an a flurry of rage as the dust swirled around him, making his figure disappear before it rounded the bend to the main road and left her sight altogether. She toyed with the reins in her hands and wondered what he had meant when he had called Diego that name and what it meant. She looked to Reverend Warren with a questioning glance and asked, “What did he mean by ‘El Diablo’?”

  “That is Spanish for The Devil,” the reverend answered, lowering his head in remorse for what he knew would be an unholy deed that he would have to undertake tomorrow. But it was not his place to question Benjamin Star’s motives in the man’s quest to marry his daughter off to the Mexican whose morals were questionable at the least.

  Before any more words could be said, the man of whom they spoke appeared from the shadows of the trees and trotted his large gray stallion to stand next to Savannah’s black gelding as he asked, “Why did you leave me so quickly, Querida?”

  Savannah seethed at the name that he had attached to her, but for the sake of the reverend, she smiled at her intended and answered, “I heard voices on the road. I came to see who was calling on us. And, you see, it is the Reverend Warren come to console us—I mean consult with us on our impending nuptials.”

  Her face burned with excited triumph at her feigned slip of the tongue and Diego’s irate expression at understanding the underlying message in her malicious mistake.

  Narrowing his eyes at her but pasting a smile on his lips, Diego tipped his black hat at the reverend and said, “Good morning Reverend Warren. How pleased I am to make your acquaintance. Forgive me if I do not dismount and introduce myself.”

  The reverend nodded as he looked to Savannah to do the honor of telling him the man’s name, “Reverend Warren, meet Don Diego Fernandez.”

  Niceties were exchanged before Diego turned to Savannah and asked, “I thought you said you heard voices. There is only one person here. Who was here before?”

  Savannah saw him look towards the cloud of dust and dismissed his question with a short and precise answer, “Just someone who needed directions.”

  With her eyes, she dared the reverend to disagree with her reply, but she said to him in a sing-song voice, “Father will be pleased to see you Reverend, let’s hurry up and go to the house.”

  Without waiting for a response from either of them, she kicked Dancer into motion and trotted ahead of them, keeping several safe paces between herself and the man to whom Travis had referred as El Diablo and the devout man who would bind her to the devil forever.

  Chapter Five

  Savannah tapped on the library door, hoping that no answer from beyond would reach her ears, but to her dismay, Diego’s muffled voice called for her to enter. She dreaded this meeting, which her fiancé had requested following the formal consultation in her father’s study with Reverend Warren.

  Diego had stopped her with a light touch of his hand as they had said their good-buys to the Reverend in the foyer and she had readied herself for her own departure in a rush to put some distance between her and her intended. But his smooth yet commanding tone had given her cause to heed his demand and find her way to the library as soon after her visit with Father as possible.

  She reached for the etched brass knob and hesitated before regaining her composure and, with a deep decisive breath, she burst into the room with a confidence that she truly did not feel. Passing her perspiring palms over her skirt in an effort to calm her nerves, she stood in front of the man who would cause this same apprehensive sensation in her for years to come.

  “Come, my dove,” Diego cooed from behind the heavy mahogany desk. As he rose to greet her in a manner that belied fondness, he took her hand into his and led her to the small settee that sat in front of the brightly lit bay window. His smile faded as he waited for her to settle herself on the green velvet cushion before he followed suit and faced her, his countenance a mask of determination.

  Remarkably, he could read the ill-disguised forlorn look on her face and with a concerned frown, he inquired, “Are you ill, Savannah?”

  She shook her head and stared at her hands which nervously gripped a wrinkled handkerchief as she answered, “No. I just fear that Father’s health is failing quickly.”

  “Ah,” Diego breathed as he laid a palm upon her hands to steady them. “I am afraid it will not be long, my dear. You must be very saddened by your impending loss.”

  Nodding and dabbing the handkerchief to her eyes as a ploy to remove his hold on her hands, she sobbed quietly, “I will miss him dearly.”

  With more compassion than she had anticipated, Diego pulled her into his arms and with a soothing voice, he whispered into her ear, “I know, my love. He is a great and loving man. And I know that you are so very close to him. You are his only child and he loves you more than you know.”

  Sniffing back the tears, Savannah shrugged away his embrace and toyed with the handkerchief as she replied, “No one will ever take his place.”

  This caring attitude that he was displaying was unnerving her to no end. She stood up and walked toward the great hearth that loomed over the large desk that had been her father’s favorite place to sit and write or read or entertain his guests. She ran a finger over its carved mahogany edge and remembered the day that this desk had been delivered when she was only five years old.

  Her brother, Richard, had skipped around the desk to be the first to sit in the large leather chair and pretend to be the head of the vast plantation. Her proud father had tousled the twelve-year-old boy’s head and had told him with all the love in his voice that he felt for his son, “In time, my son. All this will be yours.”

  But with a sigh of sadness, Savannah pushed the chair underneath the desk as if saying that no one else would ever sit in it, for she had lost her brother to pneumonia when he was nineteen, and will soon lose her father. She knew, too, that she would never have a chance to sit there, for her future husband had plans to take her far from this heirloom and her home to a place that she feared was horrible and despicable.

  As if he could read her mind, Diego’s voice pierced the air as he told her, “If you like, we can ship anything that you desire to our home.”

  “Thank you,” Savannah heard herself saying as she reached for the small frame on the mantle and cradled the portrait of her mother as if it was a beloved child. Tucking the frame into her pocket, she sniffed haughtily in order to gain the courage to a
sk of her intended, “Why can’t we stay here? This home is all I know.”

  “You know why, my dove,” Diego started as he rose to join her at the fireplace. “I have a ranch to run. I cannot leave it much longer or I will lose all of my workers. They are a restless bunch, you see, and need me to keep them in line.”

  She could see that there was no arguing with him, so she consoled herself with the fact that some of her things could travel with her to the home that he called ‘Casa de Flores’. From his elaborate description of the house and grounds, she knew that it would be a beautiful palace fit for a queen, but she was so far from wanting to be anything but her father’s daughter here on Robin’s Glen where she felt she belonged.

  With a heavy heart, she realized that this man whom she despised was her only hope for a family. With her mother and brother already in Heaven and her father soon to follow, Savannah was left with only ‘El Diablo’ as her kin and that prospect seemed to send her into a depression that nothing could cure, not even the upcoming festivities of her wedding. Her impending doom seemed to transfer the spirit and defiance that she normally demonstrated to an uncharacteristically agreeable attitude.

  As if in a dream, she floated on a cloud of catatonic complacency while her life was set adrift in a sweeping and stupefying departure from what she had been accustomed to and into a world that she had never imagined would encompass her. While the days floated by, she rode as if on a raft through the rapids of what was to be her existence and she was powerless to prevent or even alter it. And, without the strength to fight it, she let it carry her away from all that she knew to a future that was not only uncertain but most certainly dismal.

  Travis Austin Corbett sat leisurely in his saddle as Blazer plodded down the familiar trail that led to the Heart MT ranch. It had been a long and arduous journey from Georgia to Texas where his life had suddenly changed years before but he was in no hurry to set foot on the land that was once his favorite place in the world.