"You're always right about the weather, Zeb." Rachel paused, knowing he wanted to talk about a subject she wanted to avoid. She tensed visibly. "Did Tanner pay off the men who are leaving?"
"He did. While you were gone. At least kinda."
"What do you mean?"
"Not all of em left."
Rachel lowered her head. "I must seem like such a coward because I couldn't face them myself and tell them the bad news. Dammit, Zeb, I'd rather cut off my arm than let anyone go."
"They know that. `Sides, it ain't your duty to hire and fire. That's why you have a foreman."
"I should have at least-"
Zeb must have guessed that she was eaten up with guilt, so he cut in, leading their conversation in a different direction. "Shorty and Deke said they was taking themselves off to Californey. But the others said they'll hang around here for a spell, seeing as how they ain't got no place to go anyway." He held up his hand when she started to interrupt him. "They know you can't pay right now. But they're staying anyway."
She stared at her interlocked fingers, afraid that she would cry if she looked at him. Tenuously she controlled her emotions. "I admire their loyalty, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to pay them."
"Did you go to the bank?"
She nodded. "Mr. Bradley can't loan me the money. Three more ranchers were forced off their land in the last two weeks because they couldn't pay their taxes: the Everests, Abe Fletcher and the Masterson family." Her throat grew tight with sadness. "They are my friends."
"Miss Rachel, something'll turn up. Why, the way my bones been aching, I'd say it'll rain any day now."
She smiled at him. "I trust your bones, Zeb, but I don't think rain will help us now. There are so many things in my life I can't control, so many friends who need help and I can't help them I can't even help myself. If I had one wish, it would be that I could help Winna Mae find her family."
"They're most likely dead."
"You know about her family, Zeb?"
He gummed a plug of tobacco and studied her briefly. "Yep."
"When did she tell you?"
"The day after she told you. Said she wanted me to know."
Rachel was amazed but why should she be? Winna Mae and Zeb shared a common bond: they both had no family. And Winna Mae had known she could trust Zeb. "I feel like I'm caught in an old dream that I had as a little girl. My legs were buried in molasses and something dangerous was chasing me. Although I tried to run, I could hardly move, and I couldn't get away."
"It fair breaks my heart to see you go through this alone." Zeb stepped closer to her. "I've put a right goodly sum of money in the bank, and I'd like to give it to you to pay the taxes." His eyes were as shiny as those of a child offering a piece of hard candy to a friend. "I ain't got no use for money."
She reached out and kissed his rough cheek, drawing a bright smile from him. "Thank you, Zeb. I never had a kinder offer, but I'm afraid you don't have that much money. The taxes on Broken Spur are twelve hundred dollars-Yankee dollars, at that."
He whistled through his two remaining front teeth. "That high?"
"I don't understand it. It's unreasonable. When I spoke to the tax assessor, he said the matter was out of his hands. The taxes have to be paid by the end of the month."
Zeb scratched behind his ear as he did some quick calculating. "Seventeen days."
Her shoulders drooped. "Exactly." She tried to concentrate on the lacy pattern cast against the house by the sun shining though the rose trellis. She drew in a steadying breath. "I don't know what I am going to do, Zeb. I'm going to lose the Broken Spur." She hung her head. "Who will tend Papa's and Mama's graves when I leave?"
The old cowhand watched Rachel enter the house, wishing he could do something to help her. She couldn't raise the taxes in seventeen days, or even seventeen months. It was more money than anyone had, except... except Noble Vincente. But Rachel would be mad as hell if he took her troubles to Noble. He ambled back to the barn, his mind worried and his steps slow.
Rachel removed her hat and hung it on the rack; her gloves she absently dropped on the settee. "Winna Mae, I'm home," she called.
The housekeeper appeared, her footsteps silent. "You didn't get the money, did you?"
Rachel shook her head.
"Are you hungry?"
Again Rachel shook her head.
"You had a caller today. It was the strangest thing."
"Who?" Rachel asked with little interest.
"Harvey Briscal. That man who was the deputy in Tascosa Springs."
Rachel looked dumbfounded. "I detest that man. Why would he come to see me?"
"He never said. I told him you were in town and he said he'd wait anyway, and that he needed to speak to you. I showed him into the parlor and left because I had to hang the laundry. When I came in the house later, he was gone."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "I guess it couldn't have been too important." She slowly climbed the stairs. "I'm going to wash some of the dust off. I'll be down directly."
When Rachel reached the top of the stairs, she noticed that her bedroom door was closed, and she thought that was strange. When the weather was hot, she always left the door open to circulate the air. Shrugging, she entered her room and removed her dusty clothing. After washing her face and hands, she changed into a print gown. She sat on the bed to slip into her shoes, wishing she could just lie back and close her eyes, and all her troubles would disappear.
She sank backward onto the bed, but she didn't close her eyes. The moment her head hit the pillow, she heard an ominous sound that could not possibly be mistaken for anything but what it was - a rattlesnake and it was on her bed!
Cold dread rushed through her veins, and she slowly turned her head to stare into glasslike eyes that gave the illusion of glazed yellow porcelain. The unmistakable markings on the snake's scaly back were diamond shaped. It was a deadly diamondback rattler, coiled and in its strike pose, with fangs bared. With her knowledge of snakes, Rachel knew that the rattler could strike lightning quick faster than a human could move and its bite was almost always fatal.
Heart pounding, mouth dry, Rachel waited for death, knowing there was no escape.
She could hear the clock on the mantel ticking from the open window she heard a horse whinny. Time passed slowly, and she waited as if frozen in time. But the rattler didn't strike.
She watched in horror as it performed a grotesque ritual. Its forked tongue slid out of the small slit of its mouth, gliding in and out, actually touching the back of her hand. Her father had once told her that rattlers smelled with their tongues. The horrible creature was actually smelling her hand! Her stomach heaved with revulsion and fear.
Rachel was never to know how she got from her bed to the window so quickly, or why the snake didn't strike her. On the verge of hysteria, she leaned out the window, calling over and over for someone to help her.
Moments later Zeb, Winna Mae and Tanner come bounding into her room. She clung to the windowsill, her gaze riveted on the loathsome reptile that was still coiled on her bed.
Rachel closed her eyes when Tanner stepped between her and the rattler. She heard his gun fire once, twice. She refused to look at her bed to see if he'd hit the target; he never missed his aim.
"Damned big one." Tanner lifted the disgusting thing and dangled it at arm's length. "Must be over six feet long."
"How'd a snake get up them stairs, and what's it doing on Miss Rachel's bed?" Zeb asked the question that was on all their minds.
"Ain't no snake going to climb no stairs," Tanner said. "Besides, they'd be looking for someplace to hole up this time of year. Somewhere away from people."
Winna Mae went to Rachel and took her trembling hands in hers. "Come on downstairs." She turned to Tanner. "Get that thing out of here. Zeb, bring Miss Rachel's bedding. I'll remake the bed later."
Rachel was still trembling when she sat at the kitchen table while Winna Mae shoved a cup of coffee at her. "Drink. The warmth will
do you good."
Rachel shuddered. "Why didn't it strike me? I was on the bed with it and it actually touched my hand with its tongue."
"Smelling you."
"Yes."
"The Creator seems to look out for you, Rachel. By rights, you should be dead or dying right now."
Zeb came into the kitchen and dumped Rachel's bedding. He then sat down beside Rachel and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Rachel took a drink of the hot brew and then another, wishing she could stop trembling. "Someone had to have put the snake in my room. But who? Why?"
Zeb and Winna Mae exchanged glances.
"Could Harvey Briscal have done it?" Zeb asked.
"He would have had time while I was out back," Winna Mae answered. "I believe we should suspect him unless we learn otherwise. We shouldn't trust anyone," she added.
Rachel took another drink of coffee, wishing it were her father's whiskey. She couldn't stop shivering. She was hardly aware of the conversation between Zeb and Winna Mae. "This is the third time in as many months that I've faced death," she said in an amazed voice.
Again, Zeb and Winna Mae exchanged glances.
Winna Mae answered a knock at the door. She was surprised to see Noble Vincente standing there, hat in hand.
"I am sorry, Senor Vincente, but Miss Rachel is not at home. Two of the horses broke out of the corral and she's helping round them up."
"I know. It's you I came to see. May I come in and talk to you for a moment, Winna Mae?"
She nodded, wondering what Noble Vincente would have to say to her. "Can I get you anything, coffee or, if you like, something stronger?"
"No. Nothing, thank you."
She led him into the parlor and offered him the cushioned chair by the window. With his polished manners, he remained standing until she was seated.
Winna Mae's face was stoic. She was accustomed to hiding her feelings that was the Indian in her. "How can I help you, Senor Vincente?" she asked politely.
"I have come to help you, if that's possible."
"What makes you think I need help?"
He smiled slightly, and Winna Mae thought he was the handsomest devil she'd ever seen. She wondered if any woman, regardless of her age, would be safe when Noble Vincente displayed his charm.
"Tell me about your husband and son."
"What? How can you know about them?"
"Zeb told me. I hope you won't scold him; he only wanted to help Rachel. It seems she won't be happy until you have news of your family."
"They are dead." This was said with conviction. "So you see, you can't help me."
"They may very well be dead, but I have a man who can look into the matter for us. I'm not saying he'll find your family, but if anyone is capable, it's he."
"And who might this man be?"
Knowing her story, Noble was amazed by the peacefulness that seemed to surround her. He answered her with directness. "A lawyer from New Orleans named George Nunn. I trust him completely."
"And you think he can help me?"
"I don't honestly know. But what have you got to lose?"
She nodded, seeing the sense of his words. "I will tell you what you need to know," she said, realizing he was helping her for Rachel's sake. She looked into his eyes and saw raw emotion there, although he was almost as good at masking his feelings as she.
Winna Mae knew in that moment that he was in love with Rachel. She wasn't sure if he knew it yet.
She told him her story and he listened patiently. He took no notes, but she could see that he was memorizing names and places. When she could tell him no more, he stood.
"I hope we can help you, Winna Mae. But I don't put too much faith in the endeavor. It's been such a long time. As you said, the army doesn't keep records on their Indian prisoners."
She walked him to the door, where he turned back to her. "I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything to Rachel about my visit today. You know how proud she is."
Winna Mae opened the screen door for him and stood back for him to pass. "I will say nothing to her."
Winna Mae watched Noble ride away on his mahogany horse, his back erect, his head at a proud tilt. Rachel would be happy with this man, she thought. But he had been right when he said that Rachel was very proud, and pride, when wrongly directed, could kill love. Or perhaps Rachel did not return his love. Winna Mae did not know.
Noble dismounted before the telegraph office and went inside. Moments later, after sending a telegram to George Nunn in New Orleans, he crossed the street and entered the sheriff's office.
Ira Crenshaw's head was bent over his book work. He glanced up with an amused glint in his eyes. "I guess you don't have enough to keep you occupied at Casa del Sol and have to come into town to ruin my day." His broad smile and the dancing light in his gaze bore witness to the fact that he was glad to see Noble.
"I thought you might get fat and lazy in your mundane job, and need a diversion."
Ira reared back in his chair, balancing it on the back legs, and shook his head. "I hear nothing but good things about you these days. I'm getting mighty sick of the sugary praise heaped on you by Jess McVee and his missus. They've got the whole town thinking you can sprout wings and fly, or even walk on water."
Noble sat down in the rickety wooden chair opposite the sheriff and folded his arms across his chest. "I know. They can't do enough for me. It always amazes me how quickly a person can change sides. When I first returned, they hated me so much they didn't want my money."
"Yep. I know what you mean." Ira shoved aside his paperwork. "What brings you to town?"
"I have been hearing some nasty rumors about high taxes and families being forced off their ranches. Is it true?"
The sheriff nodded, his expression suddenly somber." 'Fraid so. The culprit is a company called Land and Trust out of Austin."
"Could they be land speculators? What do you know about them?"
"It's possible. I can't seem to find out much about them. I wrote to the state tax assessor last week and should hear something soon. I wager they slapped a high tax on Casa del Sol."
"You'd win your wager."
"But you can pay."
"Yes. But many others can't." Noble looked at his old friend. "I'd like to know if the high taxes are statewide, or if they're merely focused on Madragon County."
"If you can find out, you're a better man than me." Ira grinned broadly. "'Course, I don't have the power you wield, with the Vincente name behind you."
Noble smiled. "Hell, you're much too modest." He rolled to his feet. "I'm going to speak to Thomas Bradley at the bank and find out what he knows about the sudden rise in taxes."
"He doesn't know anything. He's as sickened by this mess as the rest of us. His two brothers lost their spreads."
Austin, Texas
"You did what?" Whit looked at Harvey Briscal in anger and disbelief.
"I put a rattler in her bedroom-a big one. There were four bedrooms upstairs, but I didn't have no trouble finding hers. Thought a snake would be better than just shooting her outright."
"Fool! Do you think Winna Mae isn't clever enough to have figured out that you're the culprit who put the snake in the bedroom? Dammit, do I have to do everything myself?"
"You said to get rid of Rachel Rutledge, and to do it in such a way that everyone would think it was an accident."
Whit paced the floor, his eyes revealing little of what was hidden behind them. "Oh, so they are supposed to think that you just happened by on the day a rattlesnake was found in her room? I believe we can safely assume that the snake has been found by now. If she's been bitten, God help you, because I won't."
Harvey wondered why Mr. Chandler was so riled. He'd had to hunt for five hours to find that snake. Then he had had to catch the damn critter and bag it. "Your sister-in-law might be dead," Harvey said hopefully.
Whit looked at Harvey as if he'd lost his mind. He'd hired him after failing to enlist Tanner or any of the other hands at th
e Broken Spur to keep him informed of Rachel's movements. He'd ended up with the biggest, most feebleminded bastard in the state of Texas.
Whit's anger was apparent from the thick veins that stood out on his forehead, and Harvey realized that this was a dangerous man to cross.
"I want you to do one more thing for me, Harvey. Then I want you to lay low for a while. This time I want you to follow my instructions exactly. And be careful. If any of that bunch from the Broken Spur gets hold of you, they're so protective of Rachel, they'd as soon shoot you as look at you." His eyes hardened. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir, you do." Harvey's gaze darted to the door, then nervously back to Whit. "After I do this one thing for you, I reckon I'll just take myself down to El Paso for a spell. Go across the border and have me a look-see."
"Now you're using your head." Whit bestowed an enigmatic glance on Harvey. "I'll have someone contact you in El Paso with money enough to keep you in style for a long time to come."
Harvey nodded vigorously. "Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."
"We have to act fast, Harvey. Now that Noble Vincente has started looking into-" Whit's voice broke off. He'd confided too much in Harvey already. If he was caught, the fool would probably spill his guts. "Time is running out, and if you fail me this time, Harvey, you'll regret it."
"I won't fail you this time, Mr. Chandler," he said, looking into the coldest eyes he'd ever seen. A chill started at the base of his skull and ran all the way to his spine. If he failed this time, he wouldn't live long afterward.
Whit glanced down at his desk and tapped his finger impatiently. Word had reached him that Noble Vincente was asking questions and poking his nose where it didn't belong. It wouldn't take long for a man with Noble's connections to discover that Land and Trust was owned by Whit and some of his business partners, or that some of those partners were getting scared and wanted to pull out of the deal.
Whit felt eaten up with hatred for Noble. Noth ing and no one must stand in his way of buying Broken Spur for back taxes. Broken Spur was just a river crossing away from the real prize Casa del Sol.
Texas Proud (Vincente 2) Page 18