Brazos Bride

by Caroline Clemmons

  Micah and Joel didn’t return until evening. Her heartbeat increased when Micah entered the room. Now, now, don’t forget your goal.

  Dust and sweat covered the two men and mud clung to their boots. Both appeared weary.

  Tired he might be, but Micah was all smiles. “The cattle are at the river, and we started rebuilding the fence along the new property lines.”

  Joel plopped down on a kitchen chair. “Don’t know as the fence is a priority,” he sent Zach a knowing gaze, “but the cattle are soaking up that water.”

  Maggie thumped a wooden spoon against Joel’s head. “You know better than to bring all that dirt in here with you. It’s clear you boys have been on your own too long and need some civilizing.”

  Lizzie laughed while she basted a ham. “We’re just the ladies who can remind them of their manners, aren’t we, Hope?”

  Hope smiled, wondering how to answer.

  Joel and Micah headed for the wash room. Zach laughed at their retreat.

  As Lizzie slid the ham into the holding oven, Tomasina grabbed a broom and her face lit with excitement. “Before the food we set out, I will sweep the mud and dirt out of the way so no one tracks it through the house.”

  Hope marveled at the transformation in the little maid. Already Tomasina had changed from painfully shy to easy camaraderie with the aunts. Perhaps she’d been afraid of Annunciata. Did the two older aunts have a positive affect on everyone?

  Consuela and Maria bustled in. The housekeeper asked, “What may we do to help you?”

  Lizzie said, “You just sit a spell. I know you’re really in charge of the household, Consuela, so don’t think I’m giving you orders.”

  “Sister and I indulged in a nap,” Maggie said “A siesta, I believe it’s called.”

  Zach gaped at them. “You two took a nap? Never knew you to slow down long enough.”

  “Consuela told us it’s a custom here.” Maggie gazed at her sister for confirmation.

  “It’s a lovely practice.” Lizzie said. “Perked me right up.”

  “Because of the heat in Mexico, it is necessary to rest in the afternoon,” Consuela explained.

  Hope nodded. “It was the only indulgence my father made for our staff.” Too late she realized what she’d said. Her face heated and she slid her hands to her cheeks. “I mean, it was a custom he continued.”

  Micah came back in, brushing his fingers through his wet hair. “You don’t have to apologize, Hope. We all understand.”

  She started to deny an apology, but fell silent. Why bother? Everyone knew her father was a hard man.

  Micah smiled at her. “You look more rested. Are you hungry?”

  She returned his grin. How she longed to touch the dimple that appeared whenever he smiled. “Ravenous. The smells in this room are wonderful.”

  Lizzie slid the ham on to a platter. “That’s what cooks like to hear. Wait until you taste what Maggie made for dessert.”

  Zach sniffed. “Smells like apple dumplings.”

  Lizzie motioned to them. “Go on into the dining room. Maggie and I will take turns serving.” She raised her eyebrows and nodded toward the food.

  Either Maggie or Lizzie remained in the kitchen while another brought food. Happy chatter filled the room, and Hope savored it--another memory to store.

  Micah leaned near and spoke low. “You’re very quiet. Tired or have I put my foot in it again?”

  “Merely enjoying the food, the conversation, and the company.”

  He beamed at her. “That’s all right then. Did you rest today?”

  “When Zach was not telling me about you three growing up.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

  His eyes widened. “Oh no, has he been filling your head with nonsense yarns?”

  “I do not think they were tall tales. Each sounded like a bunch of boys involved in mischief to me.”

  Micah reached over and poked Zach. “Hey, you been tattling on me to my wife?”

  “Just telling it like it is--or was.”

  Micah shot him a glare. “Like what?”

  “Remember when we crawled through that cave and you got stuck?”

  Joel laughed. “And Papa had to come pull you out. Now that was scary for a while.”

  “Still is. I sometimes have nightmares about it.” Micah brushed a hand across his face, as if wiping away a memory.

  Zach said, “Sorry, didn’t know it haunted you or I wouldn’t have told it.”

  Hope leaned forward. “I liked the one about you finding the rattlesnake in your boot. I am sorry, Micah, it must have been frightening to a boy, but the way Zach told it was very funny.”

  “Well, now I see the humor, since nobody got bitten. But then it liked to have made me pe...jump out of my pants. That snake was six feet long and mad.”

  Joel said, “Micah, it was two feet long. A six foot rattler couldn’t fit in a kid’s boot.”

  Micah shook his head. “So you say. Sure looked six feet long when it shimmied out. Nothing worse than a rattler.”

  Everyone laughed.

  Micah joined in. “Reminds me of that time when we were camped out down by the border, and that rattler tried to crawl into Joel’s bedroll. Never knew big brother could move that fast.”

  Hope listened to the brothers trying to top one another’s stories. She couldn’t remember when she’d laughed so much, but the effort cost her. In spite of her interest in the conversation, she yawned.

  Micah paused and peered at her. “We’ve tired you. I’ll help you to your room.”

  Hope rang the bell beside her plate. “No need. Maria will help.”

  Maria appeared. “Ah, Señora Hope. I see you are ready for your rest.”

  Hope looked over her shoulder as she left the room, loath to miss out on more of the conversation. She could almost believe the aunts and brothers were her family. Don’t lose sight of your goal, she warned herself. They’re here only until the killer is caught, then you won’t need them.

  Right, she would then be free. Would she not?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Micah watched Hope carefully. After a week, he’d given into her pleas for a ride on a spirited roan she called Bella. Not a good idea, he realized, but he sympathized with her. He’d be stir crazy if he were in her place.

  Some of her color had returned but she still tired easily. Months of poison took its toll, and she hadn’t yet thrown off all the effects. At least the sparkle had returned to her beautiful sherry-colored eyes.

  “What a wonderful day.” Hope sat her saddle as if born there. She sent him a beaming smile.

  Damn, one look from her and he was a sappy schoolboy. “Remember, no galloping, and only half an hour today.”

  “Come, I’ll show you my favorite hideaway.” She turned Bella and quickly led the way trotting toward a grove of trees.

  “Slow down, Hope!” He should have known that hardheaded woman would do as she pleased in spite of his warnings. He nudged his own horse so he could catch up with his wife. Wife-in-name-only, Stone, and don’t forget it.

  As if I could.

  Micah followed Hope to an outcropping of rocks surrounded by a mix of live oaks, cottonwoods, and bois d’arc trees. Sunlight from a brilliant blue sky filtered through the leaves overhead and a small creek burbled nearby. Wildflowers dotted sunny spots between trees--Indian blanket, Mexican hat, and many others he couldn’t name. Did she come here alone, he wondered? If not, who came with her?

  She slid from the saddle and opened her saddlebag. “Your aunts sent us a picnic.” Hope sat on a large boulder and spread out a cloth before unpacking sandwiches, pickles, boiled eggs, and fruit. “We have tin cups, but we will have to drink water from the stream.”

  “Guess you used to come here a lot.” Jealousy ate at him.

  “Oh, yes, it is pretty is it not? I came here to escape Papa.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, my, I should not have said that. I sound ungrateful, but sometimes I needed to be where no one judged me or expected me to b
e perfect. Ramona came with me once in a while, but most of the time I came by myself.”

  Relieved, he said, “I understand. Everyone needs time alone.” He sat on the other end of the boulder with the food between them. He understood more than she knew. He’d heard too many references to her father’s temper and ill treatment of others.

  Peering around, Micah saw no one, but he couldn’t relax. What was it about this place that bothered him? Nothing spooky here, yet he had a prickly feeling again, as if someone watched them.

  “Bet you’re thirsty. I’ll get us some water in my canteen.” He stood but froze when he heard a rifle being cocked. He turned slowly and saw the tip of a rifle showing through a space between two huge boulders only twenty feet away.

  “Duck!” he yelled and stepped backward, shielding Hope as he drew his pistol.

  A shot blasted through the quiet. Fire burned along Micah’s scalp as he fired, and he fell onto Hope.

  Too late. He’d reacted too late. The steady tattoo of hoof beats signaled the culprit’s escape.

  “Micah?” Hope called.

  He helped her to her feet and brushed dirt from her riding skirt. “Sorry, guess I’m not much of a bodyguard.” Red, sticky liquid ran into his left eye and ear as he struggled to focus.

  “Your head! Oh, there is so much blood. Sit here while I see how badly you are hurt.”

  The earth spun and Micah’s legs turned to jelly. His butt hit the ground and his legs sprawled awkwardly. At the same time, anger consumed him. He’d failed. Again.

  As if from nowhere, Eduardo galloped up, his horse lathered. “I heard a shot.”

  Micah wiped blood from his eyes and yelled, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Exhaling a loud breath, Eduardo walked toward him. “This is the ranch of my cousin. Unless Hope tells me differently, I can visit whenever I wish.”

  Hope gripped Micah’s shoulders. “Eduardo, I am so glad you’re here. Micah is wounded.”

  Micah stared at the blood dripping between his fingers to his lap. “How do we know you aren’t the one shooting at us?”

  As if he spoke to a child, Eduardo said, “By now, even you must understand I would never risk hurting my cousin. She is like my sister.”

  “You expect me to believe you showing up seconds after I’m shot is a coincidence?” His voice sounded far away, echoing as if from a cave.

  Hope shouted, “Stop! You are being childish, Micah, while you bleed like a fountain. Eduardo, please get Micah onto his horse. We must get him home and take care of his wound.”

  Micah snapped, “I can mount my own horse. Day’ll never come when I need help from some fancied up vaquero.” He fought to stand. His legs refused to obey. The sky turned dark as he dropped.

  Hope kneeled over her husband. “Micah!” His head had thunked against the boulder as he fell. Thank heavens he’d been sitting down.

  His sun-bronzed face had gone gray. He’d saved her life. What if doing so cost him his? She shed her jacket and placed it under his head as a pillow.

  She heard strange crying noises, then realized they came from her.

  Please, God, help this man. Tell me what to do.

  Eduardo had whipped off his neckerchief. He pressed it against Micah’s wound. “You need to help me, Hope. This bandana is already soaked.”

  She ripped a sleeve from her shirtwaist and fashioned it into a makeshift bandage and then handed it to Eduardo. “I will go for help.”

  “No! Stay with me here. We do not know if the killer is still around waiting for you to ride away. Take my rifle and fire it into the air several times while I press on your husband’s wound.”

  “If no one heard the first shot...”

  “They may have. I was nearby, so perhaps others are on their way.” He raised his gaze briefly to hers. “You have a better idea?”

  “No, you are right.” Hope fired three times, then paused before firing three more times. What if no one came? What if the killer returned instead? She glanced at Micah. Because she knew nothing more to do, she fired three more rounds.

  The sound of riders approaching made her want to shout in relief. Joel and Zach rode in, followed by her foreman and several of her cowboys.

  Joel was first off his horse. “What the hell happened here?”

  Hope stepped in front of the newcomers. “We were picnicking when someone shot from those rocks.” She pointed at the hill beside them. “Eduardo just arrived and is trying to save Micah’s life.”

  Wooster slid from his saddle. “Red, ride for the house. Bring the wagon. Alejandro, go to town for the doc.”

  Joel relieved Eduardo.

  Zach stripped off his shirt. “Whew. Beg pardon, Hope, but Micah needs a bandage.” He ripped his shirt into strips and rolled them.

  Hope stared as Joel tossed aside her shirtwaist sleeve she’d used as a pad. Already, the snow-white fabric had turned bright red. She couldn’t look away from that stain. He’d bleed to death before they could get him home. She gasped for air, but instead her chest constricted.

  “Sit down, Hope.” Eduardo called.

  “This way, Miss Hope.” Wooster helped her to a log in the shade. “Will you be all right now?”

  She waved away his concern. “Yes, yes. Please, just help Micah.”

  “Good thing we aren’t far from the house.” Wooster peered around and muttered, “Where’s the blasted wagon?”

  What seemed like days later, Hope heard wagon wheels’ rumble over the rough range. Red drove the horses their way. Maggie and Lizzie rode with him. Seeing the two women was like a gift from God.

  When Red stopped, the aunts climbed from the seat into the wagon bed.

  Lizzie said, “Now don’t you fret, Hope, dear. We brought quilts and our doctoring box.”

  Hope couldn’t stop trembling. “The blood...so much blood.”

  “Head wounds bleed a lot and look worse than they are. We’ll take good care of him, you believe that.” Maggie said.

  Four men lifted Micah onto the wagon bed. He groaned, but didn’t regain consciousness.

  Lizzie patted a spot beside her. “Come up here with us, dear, and ride alongside Micah. He’ll know you’re here even though he’s unconscious.”

  Joel picked up Hope and set her on the wagon. “Damn, er, pardon, I got blood on your clothes.”

  “It does not matter,” Hope said as Red turned the wagon toward home. “Are you coming?”

  “No, little sister. Reckon we’ll try tracking the polecat that shot Micah.” Joel turned to Zach. “You go with them so you can get a fresh shirt. You lead their horses. Ride for us if there’s news.”

  Hope knew he meant if Micah died. Even thinking about that possibility drove her near death herself. She looked at the aunts. Although she knew they were very different, she thought of them as one unit because of the way they worked well together and talked alike.

  Maggie cautioned, “Sister, don’t let his head bump on the boards.”

  Hope leaned forward. “Oh, no, he bumped his head on a rock when he fell. Already he must have a raised lump because I heard the thud when his skull hit.”

  “Now, Maggie, when have I ever done such a thing? I have the pillow cushioning his head, don’t worry.” Lizzie replied.

  After she’d removed the bandage, Lizzie wiped blood from Micah’s brow.

  “What can I do?” Hope asked her.

  “Talk to him, dear. Doesn’t matter if it makes sense, just anything pleasant will do.”

  “This is just temporary until we can get him home.” Maggie swabbed the wound with something that smelled vile. As if she did this every day, she skillfully reapplied a bandage and tied it. “Now, help me turn him so I can see about that bump on the back of his head.”

  Lizzie and Hope pulled Micah to his side, and he groaned. Hope worried the pain would be more than he could bear.

  As if she’d read Hope’s thoughts, Lizzie said, “He’s a strong, healthy young man, dear. He’s survived worse in
the War.”

  “H-He did?” She felt foolish knowing so little about the man she’d wed, even if theirs were only a temporary union.

  “Oh, yes, all three of them did. Joel was hurt so we thought he’d never recover, but you just can’t keep a Stone down for long. They’re tough.”

  Hope remembered she was supposed to be talking to Micah. She leaned near him and spoke softly. “Remember when we danced at that fandango? You were nice to ignore that I stepped on your foot. When you are healed, we should have an even grander fandango to celebrate.” She took his hand in hers and held it near her heart.

  “I think it will be on the courtyard like before, and we will invite everyone in town and the ranches around us to come. Mariachis will play. We will string lanterns, and serve lots to eat. I will wear my red dress and a jeweled combs in my hair.”

  Was that a gentle squeeze or the jostling of the wagon? “We will laugh and dance until we are exhausted, then we will sit and listen to the happy chatter of those around us.” There it was again, a gentle pressure from his fingers.

  She thanked God as the wagon pulled up to the house. “We are home, Micah. Soon we will have you in bed and treated so you can recover quickly.”

  Two vaqueros hurried toward them carrying an old door.

  Maggie gently pulled Hope away. “Let the men get Micah up to his room, dear. You can follow them.”

  Wooster directed the men who slid Micah onto the door and then hefted him toward the house.

  The effect was too much like that of the pallbearers at Papa’s funeral. She stared at the ground to avoid watching.

  Consuela met them at the door. “The bed, it is ready.” When the men bumped the railing as they navigated the stairs, she said, “Careful, Señor Micah, he is not a bag of grain.”

  In the master bedroom, Micah groaned when Zach and Red eased him onto the massive bed. They tugged Micah’s boots from his feet. Hope worked on his shirt buttons, her trembling fingers clumsy at their task.

  Gently, Zach brushed her hands away. “Hope, you go rest a bit. Red and I will get Micah peeled out of his clothes and tucked into bed.”