Texas Brides Collection

by Darlene Mindrup

Clancy chuckled. “Yeah, but when I think about what our Lord did on the cross for me, it makes no difference.”

  Colt moaned. Here it comes. Preaching with a one-man congregation. Next Clancy would be asking him to confess and head to the creek to wash away his sins.

  “This morning the good Lord’s leading me to read from Genesis, the story of Jacob and Esau.”

  “And who are they?”

  “Brothers who never got along.”

  Colt blew out an exasperated sigh. “I have three, and we fought all the time we were growing up.”

  Clancy cleared his throat. “Lord, we ask Your blessing on the reading of Your Word. Make sure Colt listens. I’m beginning in Genesis chapter 25, verse 19.”

  Colt half listened, half dozed through the story about twins named Jacob and Esau. One was his daddy’s favorite, and the other was his mama’s. Colt had been a part of such a family. He hadn’t been anyone’s favorite. All of a sudden, Clancy had his attention.

  “You mean Esau sold his inheritance for a bowl of soup?”

  “Yep. He must have been powerful hungry.”

  “More like a fool.” Colt opened his eyes. He’d listen a little more. “How did those two get in the Bible? One is a fool, and the other lies to his own daddy.”

  “The Bible is full of sinful people. I know you’ve heard the preacher say how none of us is perfect. Now will you hush and let me finish?”

  So Colt listened. Jacob had to take off because Esau threatened to kill him for getting the inheritance. His mama sent him to live with her people. Then Jacob fell in love. Colt was beginning to understand how that felt, too. “None of those fellers is decent,” he said. “Jacob worked seven years for Rachel, then got stuck with her ugly sister and had to work seven more years.” He started to say more, but Clancy shot him one of those “shut up and listen” looks.

  The story went on, and Colt started to drift off to sleep until Clancy got to the part about the angel breaking Jacob’s leg and how he limped to meet Esau. Jacob was scared his brother was going to kill him, and Colt understood those feelings, too. He’d been a horrible bully to his brothers. It worked out for Jacob and Esau, but those men had been real bad.

  “What do you think?” Clancy asked.

  “I’m thinking on it. Jacob wasn’t much better than an outlaw until he wrestled with the angel. He turned himself into bein’ a decent man after that.”

  “What about you?”

  Here comes the confessing-your-sins part. “What about me?”

  “Looks to me like you’re changing into a different man from the one who rode in here. God must be wrestling with you, too.”

  Colt didn’t say a word. Clancy closed his Bible and placed it back under his bed.

  “I’m going to rest a little,” Clancy said. “My arm’s on fire.”

  “And my leg feels like someone branded it.”

  Me, wrestling with an angel? The only thing I wrestle with are all the things I’ve done in the past—and if I’d ever be good enough for Anne and the girls.

  Chapter 6

  Waiting for his leg to heal gave Colt plenty of time to think about what had happened the day he and Clancy were shot. Repeatedly he walked his mind back through every moment of that day. He recalled the way the wind blew and questioned if the birds he heard were actually calls made by men. Sights and smells lingered in his thoughts. When he’d crawled through brush and grass, he’d seen no signs of men.

  The mystery of it all puzzled him, and he and Clancy filled their waking hours talking about who could have done the killings.

  “If I believed in ghosts, I’d say they fired on us,” Colt said.

  “Does seem real strange, and I was quite a tracker in my day.” Clancy rubbed his whiskered jaw. “I even wondered if a small band of renegade Indians could have done it. But nothing I recall showed any signs of ’em.”

  “I’ve laid here three days thinking about this and haven’t come up with a thing.” Colt glanced around. “I’m fixin’ to use the crutch Thatcher Lee made for me and get out of this bunkhouse for some fresh air.”

  “Walkin’ around helps. At least I can get out of here. I imagine the bunkhouse feels like pris—.” He stopped himself. “I’ll help you the best I can.”

  “We’ve turned into a couple of helpless old men,” Colt said.

  “Speak for yourself. I’ve got another twenty good years left in me.”

  Colt glanced at the old man’s silver hair and weather-beaten face. “How many lines can your face hold?”

  “As many as it takes to make sure Anne and the girls are safe and you find the Lord.”

  “He doesn’t want me, Clancy. I don’t like church, and my singing sounds like it came from a hollow bucket.”

  “Oh, He wants you powerful bad. You just don’t have sense enough to realize it.” Clancy stood and grasped the makeshift crutch. “I don’t always like the preacher’s sermons, either, and my singing sounds like a hurt wolf. It ain’t about that at all. It’s about realizing you need something you don’t have. Something that is more powerful than what any man can get on his own.”

  Out of respect for Clancy, Colt kept his thoughts to himself because he wasn’t in the mood for preachin’. The pain in his leg felt like liquid fire. Truth be known, he’d been thinkin’ on God and the stories Clancy had read to him from the Bible. The story about Jacob and Esau had hit close to home. Clancy said they were true, and lately Colt hoped they were.

  Sweat streamed down Colt’s face by the time he hobbled out of the bunkhouse and made his way to a shady tree—the one Nancy had climbed. He sat beneath it and stretched out his burning leg. Frustrated with the time it was taking to heal when he wanted to ride out to where the shooting took place made him want to tear into the first man who crossed his path.

  “Can you leave me alone?” he asked Clancy. “I need time to think about a few things.”

  “Sure. When God is working on a man, he needs time by himself.”

  Clancy made his way to the barn, and Colt felt a little guilty for letting the man think he had religion on his mind. Leaning against the oak tree, he closed his eyes and willed the throbbing to end.

  “Mr. Colt.”

  Nancy’s sweet voice didn’t irritate him at all. That little girl had stolen his heart.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “That’s what I wanted to ask you.” She sat in the grass beside him, her bare feet caked with dried mud.

  “You been wadin’?”

  She nodded. “I was looking for frogs. I found a little one.” She reached inside her overalls and pulled it out. “I’m going to feed him some tasty bugs.”

  He chuckled. “I always thought little girls played like they were grown women.”

  “Sometimes I do. I like both.”

  “What about Sammie Jo?”

  “Mama makes her learn cooking stuff, but she’d rather be ridin’ or explorin’.”

  Alarm weighed on Colt’s mind. “Promise me something.”

  She gazed up at him with huge, trusting eyes.

  “Promise me you and Sammie Jo won’t go explorin’ very far from the ranch.”

  “Why? Because of what happened to you and Clancy?”

  “That’s right. This leg of mine hurts powerful bad, and I wouldn’t want you to hurt, too.”

  She nodded. “I promise. Sammie Jo’s braver than me, so I’ll tell her what you said.”

  “Would she listen to anyone besides you and me?” Colt recognized the older girl’s stubbornness and figured she’d do the opposite of what he or Nancy asked.

  “Maybe Thatcher Lee. She’s still sneaking around and seeing him.” Nancy stared into Colt’s face. “He’s a grown man, Mr. Colt. Mama would whip her good if she knew.”

  “I’ll say something to Thatcher Lee.” As if he hadn’t before.

  “Thank you.” Nancy grinned. Her attention focused on the utmost tree branches. “I sure appreciate you helping me down out of this here tree. Sammie Jo l
aughs at me getting scared easy.”

  “Takes a real smart gal to stay away from danger, and you and Sammie Jo are real smart.”

  Nancy wrinkled up her nose. “She thinks she knows everything.”

  Colt frowned but kept his thoughts to himself. He feared Anne’s oldest daughter might need to learn a few of life’s lessons the hard way.

  Anne lifted the canteen to her lips and drank deeply. She worked sunup to sundown to take up the slack until Clancy and Colt were healed. Bone-tired, she prayed God would give her strength to continue on. Sammie Jo enjoyed helping, but Anne believed her enthusiasm had a lot to do with Thatcher Lee. Twice Anne had caught her talking to him when they thought no one was looking. Thatcher Lee knew better, especially if he wanted to keep his job. Anne would have cut him loose a long time ago except he was a good ranch hand and she needed help. No matter that her daughter looked older. Sammie Jo had a few years of growing and maturing before Anne allowed a young man to come courting.

  The object of her frustration rode toward Anne with Thatcher Lee alongside her. Sammie Jo’s face flushed red—and Anne knew it had nothing to do with the heat.

  “Where have you two been?” Anne asked.

  “Roundin’ up strays.” Thatcher Lee tipped his hat. Always the mannerly one, which kept his body free of buckshot when it came to Sammie Jo. “Won’t take long to move the herd into the upper pasture, Mrs. Langley.”

  Anne screwed the cap back onto her canteen. “That job took both of you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Sammie Jo had a lot of questions about ranching.”

  Anne focused her attention dead center on Thatcher Lee’s eyes. “She has a mama for that. If I don’t have the answers, I’ll find them. Do you understand what I mean? She’s fourteen years old, not eighteen.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Thatcher Lee’s lips turned up slightly.

  Anne bit her tongue to keep from using words a good Christian woman had no right to use. But this was her daughter, and she’d work this ranch without Thatcher Lee if he didn’t stay away from Sammie Jo.

  After dinner when the sun had slipped just beyond the horizon, she stopped by to see how Colt and Clancy were doing. Clancy had been cleaning out stalls onehandedly, most likely to chase away boredom.

  “I need to talk,” she said to Colt. “Do you feel up to limping outside?”

  He grabbed his crutch and made his way beside her. She caught a few looks from the other hands as though they suspected something going on between them. Right now she wasn’t in the mood to ask what they were gawking at.

  “Thatcher Lee and Sammie Jo are sneaking around.” She blurted out the words in a mixture of anger and near-tears. Not at all as she intended.

  “From what Nancy said to me today, I don’t doubt what you’re telling me. Looks like that little talk I gave him went nowhere. You want me to have another one?”

  “I told him earlier to stay away from her. I hate to fire him. He’s a good hand, but I’m not risking my daughter’s future on a two-bit cowboy.”

  “Maybe he needs to know what you’re thinking. I don’t mind telling him he’s looking at getting fired.”

  “Thanks. The only reason I’m asking you is because Thatcher Lee respects you, and he and Clancy have had their problems in the past.” She feared her request made her look like a whining female.

  Colt smiled, and it spread across his face. She could get used to his smile and the way he seemed to care about her daughters.

  “Were Hank and Thomas friends with Thatcher Lee?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Always. He was real angry when those two were caught with Double L cows. He and Clancy tried to talk them out of cattle rustling, but it didn’t do any good. Sure glad I rode up when I did, or he and Clancy would have been dead.”

  Colt appeared to take in her every word. That made her feel a little uncomfortable but in a special way. Mercy, she’d gotten as bad as Sammie Jo with Thatcher Lee.

  “Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged. “He’s young. Maybe what Hank and Thomas did—and later finding them dead—makes him want to talk to someone who’ll listen.”

  “Maybe so.” She sighed. “I’ll talk to him—see if I can be that ear instead of my daughter.” She laughed. “Raising daughters is hard, but I guess raising boys wouldn’t be any easier. Any suggestions?”

  He hesitated. “I think if my ma had taken the time to rein me in when I bullied my brothers, maybe I wouldn’t have ended up in prison. She worked hard and didn’t have time to listen when we needed to talk. But girls? I don’t have nary an idea.”

  “No sisters?”

  He shook his head. “One of my brothers took up with a woman who had a little girl. The woman did anything he asked, and it nearly got her killed. That’s what worries me about Sammie Jo and Thatcher Lee. She’s so young and…Excuse me. Sammie Jo is none of my business.”

  She glanced at the house. A lot of wisdom rode under Colt’s hat. And she understood exactly what he meant about Sammie Jo. Anne hadn’t spent time with another man except Clancy since Will died. Her head warned her not to lose her heart. Colt was a strange man. His eyes were hard, but sometimes she saw a spark of genuine decency.

  “There’s some milk cake left over from dinner. Would you like a piece and some fresh coffee?”

  “Sounds real good, Anne. Do you mind if I check on Miss Nancy? She found herself a friend today—a frog.”

  Anne smiled. “She’s taken with you, Colt.” And so am I.

  Chapter 7

  Three weeks after the shootings, Colt climbed on his horse and attempted to do his share of the work. The longest three weeks since prison. Strange how he’d always taken walking for granted. Now he counted the days until he could make his way around the ranch without limping. Nancy said he looked “grumpy,” but some of the other ranch hands had more colorful words to describe his aggravation.

  He had a few suspicions about what was going on at the Double L. With nothing to do but think and read, he’d watched the men to see if any said or did anything out of the ordinary. One man stayed foremost in Colt’s mind, but until he found evidence, he’d keep his mouth shut and his ears and eyes open.

  During the fourth week, Colt, Clancy, Thatcher Lee, and two other hands rode together for fence mending. It wasn’t one of Colt’s favorite chores, but he was just glad to be in the saddle instead of flat on his back. Anne and the girls joined them in a wagon with the fixin’s for a noon meal. Already the sun beat down hard. They needed rain, and the cracked, parched earth proved it. Midsummer in Texas gave a whole new meaning to fire and brimstone.

  Anne smiled and waved from several feet away. Nancy called out to him. Even Sammie Jo waved—a first since she’d made it known how she felt about him interfering with her and Thatcher Lee. Lately Anne made sure Sammie Jo stuck to her side. Colt had talked again to Thatcher Lee and told him their boss was ready to fire him. So far the young man had steered clear of Sammie Jo.

  Clancy had done nothing but grin all morning.

  “What’s so funny?” Colt asked.

  “Oh, I’m in a good mood. Thanks for returning my Bible,” he said.

  “Yep, I saw you readin’it,” Thatcher Lee said. “Next you’ll be preachin’like Clancy.”

  Colt laughed. “I’m not getting religious, so you two can wipe those holy looks off your faces. I like the stories.”

  “I’m right tickled you’re reading it,” Clancy said.

  “Yeah, it shows.” Colt wasn’t about to comment on his interest in God. But interest was all he had. Anne took a lot of stock in a man who knew God, and he wanted to know why.

  Sitting in his saddle, listening to the familiar creak of the leather, and taking in the surroundings lifted his spirits; he felt a rare sense of peace. He’d grown to care for these people, something he never thought would happen. Before his release from Huntsville Prison, he hadn’t cared about anyone but himself. His life had changed, and he believed it was for the better.


  Glancing to the right of him, he saw Anne slow the wagon until she drove beside him. He’d resolved to stay clear of her, but this morning it was real hard. He dug his heels into his mare and caught up with Clancy.

  “You doin’ all right?” Clancy asked. Sweat dripped from his forehead.

  “Yeah. I’m glad to be earning my keep again.”

  “Good to see you on a horse and your face not all screwed up in pain. Any other ideas about what happened?”

  “A few.”

  Clancy glanced around. “So do I. Got my eyes on him.”

  Colt nodded. Whether they suspected the same man or not didn’t matter. They both were anxious to find out who’d done the killings—not to mention who’d shot the two of them—and get ’em handed over to the law. He’d feel better when all of this trouble was settled.

  Anne. She made an ordinary day fill up with sunshine. Colt sensed his heart had taken a plunge well-deep. While waiting on his leg to heal, he’d considered collecting his pay and riding out. Seeing her every day and realizing he’d never be good enough for such a fine woman depressed him. She’d loved one outlaw and ended up a widow. What more did he have to offer? Sure, he’d left the past behind, but what he’d done surfaced in his mind every time he thought they might have a good life together.

  The day’s work nearly wore out Colt—not so much the fence mendin’ but the heat. His leg ached as he limped to the corral with Clancy. He sensed the old man had things to say. At times it seemed like the two of them had the same mind.

  “Neither one of us is men who talk much about what we’re thinking.” Clancy leaned on the fence. “I enjoy teasin’ you and pushin’ you to think on the things of God. But accusing a man of murder is different.”

  “I agree.” Colt sighed. “I’m still not sure if I should say what I suspect.”

  “Don’t blame you, and I’ve known him longer than you.”

  “Ever have any problems with him?” Colt asked.

  “You know the answer to that.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  Clancy shrugged. “Not enough to pin murder on him. He slacks when it comes to working unless Anne’s watching. Don’t like ’im. Never did. And I try to look for the good in a man.”