Forever in Texas

by Jodi Thomas

  The leader grumbled at them and they all fell silent. “Normally, we have men stumble in here and stumble out a little happier and poorer than before. But you’re different. I can tell by your eyes you’re one of those men who only sees one woman. Unfortunately for my business, it’s probably this wife you’re wanting to get back to.”

  Ford cut his gaze toward her, wondering what the lady-of-the-line, as he’d heard them called by the railroad workers, was up to. He couldn’t tell if she was playing him or not.

  “You see, ladies,” the woman began, “what we got here is a gentleman, and you all got to treat him different.”

  The girls laughed, but she quieted them with a wave of her cigar.

  “You don’t understand.” Ford ran his fingers through his still damp hair. “My wife is in danger and I have to help her.”

  “Oh, but the Lord helps those who help themselves, and we plan on encouraging you to help yourself. Would you like another drink?” She motioned for someone at the door to get another bottle. “In a few hours, you’re going to forget you even have a wife. Most of the men who come in here do.”

  As the door opened, Ford could see what looked to be a smoky bar just beyond. Several men and women were laughing and talking. He knew he could stand and walk out of the room. None of the women would, or could, stop him, but he needed a horse. If this woman was the leader, she was the one he’d be wise to talk with.

  “Can I buy a horse?” He stood and fished in his pocket, hoping he had enough money with him.

  “How about we just take you for a ride?” one woman asked, and the other women laughed.

  While all the girls joined in with suggestions, the door opened again and a little boy entered, carrying a tray with several glasses and a bottle. The boy looked up at Ford and almost dropped his load.

  Ford wished he had time to explain to the child what he was doing here. “Do you have a horse or don’t you? That’s all I want.”

  The huge woman looked frustrated, but the boy set the tray down and walked over to Ford. “Hello, sir,” he whispered as he extended his hand in a formal handshake. “I’m Rip. I know who you are.”

  Ford knelt on one knee to the first friendly face he’d seen in what seemed like years.

  “Is Miss Hannah feeling better?” Rip asked with a worried look. “We sure do miss her. Miss Gavrila went riding with some men today and we didn’t have anyone to tell us a story. I sure do like those stories your wife tells.”

  “You’re Miss Hannah’s husband!” the leader shouted as she gently pushed Rip aside. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

  Ford raised an eyebrow. He’d known a few of the children from Feather Hill had been coming over to the school, but he never thought of the adults in the tent city as parents. “Hannah is my wife,” he said slowly.

  The leader tossed her cigar in the washbasin and slapped him on the back. “She’s a fine lady, she is. A fine lady. One day she even stopped by here and brought Rip home. Come right in the bar like she’d been in one all her life and sat to visiting with me about my boy as proper as if I’d married his father.”

  Ford thought the fall into the canyon had been a long drop. Until now. All the air left his lungs and he swore his heart stopped at the idea that his wife had done such a thing. When she’d said she was visiting some of the parents, he never dreamed she’d walk into such a place.

  “My wife!” He tried to breathe normally.

  “Sure,” the leader smiled proudly. “Gave me a picture, too, and told us all a story about a knight. She even said you was her knight, ’cause you’d kill any dragon for her.”

  Felicity turned to the others as if they couldn’t follow the conversation. “This here’s Miss Hannah’s man.”

  All the women were talking at once as the leader produced the picture and they all admired it.

  “She’s a fine lady and a great artist,” Felicity proclaimed. “This is the finest thing anyone’s ever given me. I’m gonna have it framed someday when I get a place with real walls and a wood floor.”

  Ford looked at the sketch. It was Hannah’s, all right. No better than the ones he’d seen her draw at night. Only he’d hardly taken the time to look at them, and these folks seemed to think they were of great value.

  Ford looked again. The work was fair at best. What made the picture so special was the honor she paid the prostitutes by offering it to them. Her small gesture had given them value and maybe allowed Rip to walk a little taller.

  “She is a great artist,” Ford agreed. Look what she’d done for them and for him. “I’m very lucky to have her for a wife.”

  All the women nodded.

  “Will you help me? If I could just borrow a horse, I’ll return it as soon as I can.”

  The leader waved Rip toward the door. “Get him one of our best. The black we took in trade last week should be fast.” Felicity giggled. “His owner sure was.” She turned to Ford. “Come to the bar and I’ll get you some coffee to keep your insides warm.”

  He followed her out of the room and to the bar area. While she poured the coffee, they talked of Gavrila’s kidnapping. He was amazed at all she knew of the town. People who didn’t even suspect she lived out here in these tents were people she seemed to know. While he downed his second cup, he told her how Hannah was afraid sometimes and of the drawings he’d seen one night when she’d stayed up waiting for him.

  “She’s seen a killing.” The woman nodded with an air of one who’d seen all there was to see in life a few times herself. “And those men looking for her aim to silence our Hannah.”

  Ford wasn’t sure he liked the prostitute claiming Hannah, but it felt good to talk with someone about his worries.

  “I wish I could find them first,” he said as he drained his cup.

  The woman pulled him toward the back of the tent. “We had three strangers come in here a few hours ago. I think they’re playing cards in there.” She held a flap an inch open. “I know it’s a long shot, but do you think those could be the ones planning to kill her?”

  Blinking in the smoky light, he looked closely, then stared once more through the opening. Hannah’s horrible sketch of a man smiling while he fired his guns at waist level had come to life before him. The man stood at a table, threatening the dealer with the same evil smile, which cut ripples across his face.

  “That’s him!” Ford mumbled and reached for his Colt.

  The holster was empty.

  Chapter 23

  “I WANT’A SEE your hands, dealer!” the gunman growled as he waved the firearm above the gambling table.

  The dealer raised his hands as his eyes widened to poker chip size.

  Ford glanced behind him. He saw nothing to use as a weapon. No gun in sight, not even a stick. If he didn’t do something quickly, the killers Hannah had drawn in charcoal would spring to life and destroy again. With walls of canvas, others could be hit if anyone fired.

  Felicity did what she did best. She read his mind and stepped past him into the gaming room, making a great show as she moved forward.

  Ford followed seconds later, hidden in her shadow. He moved toward the back unnoticed while everyone, including the gunman, watched Felicity. The air was so thick with smoke, Ford almost tripped over a broken chair in one corner as he moved directly behind the gunman. He could easily jump the killer from behind, but two partners sat on either side of him, laughing at the dealer’s fear.

  “What’s going on in here, boys?” Felicity sashayed over as if she wanted to join in on the fun. “You three newcomers having a little fun?”

  “I’m thinking you might want to get a new dealer,” the gunman said. “I could help rid the earth of this one.”

  Felicity laughed and looked at her employee. The slight nod between the two was barely noticed by Ford. “If you’re going to kill my dealer, best do it now.”

  With her last word, everyone jumped at once, taking the three hired killers by surprise. Felicity fell against the one nearest her, knock
ing him on the floor flatter than a water-batter pancake. The dealer dove toward the other seated gunman, shoving him out of his chair as a bullet split the canvas behind where the dealer had been sitting. Ford raised a chair and shattered it across the standing gunman’s head an instant after the outlaw had pulled the trigger.

  Before Ford could move, the room seemed to fill with people. A few of the girls helped the dealer tie up his captive, but the one Ford had hit was out cold, as was the man Felicity had toppled.

  The huge woman stood and straightened her robe. “Lordy, lordy, that was fun!” She slapped her hands against Ford’s cheeks. “I know you got to get home to that wife of yours, but you come back anytime for a visit. I ain’t had so much fun since I was arrested by a group of Texas Rangers down near Big Bend.”

  Ford moved toward the exit. “You’ll keep these men tied up until I return with the law?”

  She followed him to the flap that served as her front door. “You bet.” Grabbing one of their slickers, she handed it to Ford. “Since it’s still raining, you’d best take one of these newfangled yellow things they’re wearing as dusters. These three ain’t going to be needing them till you get back. This material looks like it’s coated with oil to keep the rain out.”

  Ford slipped into the slicker and disappeared out of the tent.

  Rip was waiting with an able horse. With a nod to the boy, Ford stepped into the stirrup and kicked the animal into action. He knew that now that the killers were tied up, Hannah was safe, but he couldn’t wait to get back to her. He wanted to tell her all that had happened to him, suddenly realizing he’d never had anyone to share things with before. He also had to tell her he understood why she’d been running. If three men like those he’d just seen had been chasing him, Ford decided he’d have done whatever he had to to escape them.

  He covered the distance in record time, despite the rain. When he reached his barn he’d decided he would offer Felicity a good price for the horse, if she was interested. There would never be another like the bay for him, but this one was a powerful animal. When the ground dried a little, he’d maneuver back down into the canyon and bury the bay on the side where he died.

  The house was dark as he walked toward it. Hannah must have turned in early. Every bone in his body hurt with exhaustion, but his steps were quick. He’d spent the night hunting Gavrila and a day fighting his way back. Now all he wanted to do was hold Hannah in his arms and tell her he understood.

  Sneeze met him at the door, purring loudly. Ford scratched the cat’s head and wondered why Sneeze’s milk bowl was empty.

  He refilled the bowl, pulled off the slicker, and was two steps into the living area before he remembered his boots. Hannah wouldn’t have to remind him again. If she wanted no mud on the floor, he’d try to remember. Ford backtracked to the kitchen and pulled off the wet leather.

  Almost running across the main room to his bedroom, he half expected her to be asleep on the couch, but he was glad she’d already turned in. Sliding in beside her beneath the covers would be a wonderful way to end the day. He’d hold her tightly and tell her she had nothing else to fear.

  As he entered the bedroom, the first thing he noticed was how cold the room seemed. Hannah always lit the fire. But there was no firelight. Only the shadowy light from the window crossing an empty bed.

  Ford let out a deep breath and walked to the other room. Of course, he thought, she was sitting up with Zachery.

  The other room was empty as well.

  Alarm crept up his spine. He walked back to his room and struck the light. There must be a dozen explanations why she wasn’t here.

  Hannah had taken Zachery into town to the doctor after all, and they’d been trapped by the storm. She’d ridden in to check on Gavrila. His sister must have gotten home hours before he ever reached Feather Hill. But why hadn’t Hannah returned here? She must know that he’d come here first looking for her.

  Slowly, hesitantly, Ford forced himself to turn toward the wardrobe. Her clothes were still hanging beside his.

  Cold dread forced him to look up. To check the one thing he knew she would take with her if she was truly gone.

  The carpetbag was missing!

  She’s done it, he thought. She’s left me.

  Like a wild man, he rummaged through the house, not wanting to believe his own fears. She’d taken her comb and brush, her coat and gloves, her carpetbag. “Dear Lord,” he swore aloud, “she’s taken the bag.” There would be no reason for her to take the bag unless she was leaving for good.

  Finally, when he pulled the bottom drawer of his desk open, Ford admitted the truth to himself. All his money was gone. She’d left one gold bracelet behind. As if one gold band could keep his heart from shattering.

  Ford stormed out of the house, grabbing the slicker and his hat as he moved. He had no idea where to look, but he wasn’t going to let her disappear out of his life without facing him. If the whole world thought him a little wild, he was about to prove them right, for he’d either find Hannah or go mad trying.

  * * *

  Hannah couldn’t sleep. She’d piled layer after layer of Gavrila’s handmade quilts on the floor in front of the fireplace, but her bed still wasn’t comfortable. She could see both the front and back doors, but she didn’t feel safe. The Winchester lay by her side. She curled in a ball, her knees to her chin, and wondered if she’d ever be able to sleep soundly again.

  The rain finally slowed, but the wind kept whining outside, whispering between the buildings of a danger she couldn’t see. It didn’t call her to dance tonight, but warned her to be alert. Whenever she tried to sleep the wind seemed to moan louder, pleading for her to be ready.

  From time to time she could hear Jinx moving about Uncle Zachery’s room and Gavrila calling for Alamo, who had spread a bedroll in the hall beside her door.

  Hannah knew it was after midnight, but she couldn’t relax. Harwell’s men were out there looking for her, and she was trapped here by the storm.

  Wind whipped up and she thought she heard a horse. Then it quieted outside and the room seemed to grow darker. Hannah felt someone coming even before she heard the footsteps on the porch. Hard, fast steps of someone storming toward the back door with great fury.

  She raised her rifle and waited for the trouble she knew would come.

  The knob rattled, then gave. The glass in the door sounded almost like a hurried chime as a man in a yellow slicker stepped through the back entrance.

  Shaking badly, Hannah could barely bring the gun to her cheek and sight.

  The moment she saw the yellow slicker, she pulled the trigger, shattering the silence of the house.

  The shadow ducked but kept coming as the sound of the gunshot rattled through the hallways. Hannah cocked the weapon, pushing another round into place. She raised the Winchester once more and aimed, dead center, at the slicker moving toward her.

  “Hannah!” Alamo screamed from the stairs, just before she pulled the trigger.

  A slight jerk caused by the distraction made the bullet miss her mark.

  Hannah’s fingers trembled as she lifted the weapon once more.

  Before she could recock the Winchester, the stranger reached her and ripped the barrel of the gun from her.

  “Hannah!” Ford shouted with a mixture of anger and fear in his voice. “Stop trying to make yourself a widow!”

  “Ford!” Hannah cried as she realized who she was shooting at. He pulled her up into his arms and held her so tightly she couldn’t even shake.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered when tears allowed her to talk. “I thought you were…”

  “I know,” he answered. “I was a fool to wear the slicker. In your drawings there was no color. When I heard the first shot, I realized my mistake. But I’m happy to know my wife is the worst shot in the state.”

  Alamo advanced only halfway down the stairs. “Ford. I wasn’t sure it was you on that black horse, but no man walks with the stride you do when you’re in a hurry.
”

  Ford didn’t loosen his hold on Hannah as he looked up. “How’s my sister?”

  “She’s still really delicate.”

  Alamo wasn’t telling Ford anything new. “Maybe she’ll feel better knowing we caught the three men. They’re tied up over at Feather Hill.”

  “Feather Hill?” Hannah leaned back to look at Ford.

  He laughed. “I met a friend of yours over there. Quite a lady.”

  Jinx stormed down the stairs with a lantern in one hand and her gun in the other. She took one look at Ford and swore. “You look like something even a cat wouldn’t drag home. It’s about time you showed up to protect this wife of yours. I’ve been pulling double duty as both nurse and guard.”

  “Protect her? I was worried about her killing me a few minutes ago,” Ford answered. “As to where I’ve been, it’s a long story I’ll tell everyone over breakfast. Right now, I haven’t had any sleep in two days.”

  “Well, then, let’s get to bed.” Jinx started back up the stairs. “Ain’t many a story worth ruining a good night’s sleep over.”

  When Alamo and Jinx disappeared upstairs, Ford pulled Hannah into his arms and kissed her. “We’ve got some talking to do, darlin’,” he whispered between kisses, “but it’ll wait till morning.”

  When she was light-headed from being kissed, Ford pulled away and removed his coat and gun belt. Silently, he pulled the bandanna from his pocket and circled her wrist with the material. Then, using his teeth to pull the knot, he bound his own wrist to hers.

  “We’ll talk in the morning,” he whispered as he eased her down on the quilts. “Right now I have to get some rest, and I don’t want you running out on me while I’m asleep. You’ve got some explaining to do, and I’ve got—for the first time in my life—some things I have to say.”

  “But—” Hannah started to protest, knowing if she chose to leave, the knotted bandanna couldn’t hold her. He was asking her to wait, but still not trusting her word.

  “Tomorrow,” he whispered as he closed his eyes, already beyond her hearing.

  Hannah covered them both with the wedding quilt and kissed her sleeping husband. “Tonight, darling,” she whispered softly. “I’ll hold you in my arms one more time, but tomorrow I’ll leave my heart forever in Texas…forever with you. No bandanna or words will keep me.”