Texas Love Song

by Jodi Thomas

  She lifted her arms for him to help her down, and they silently moved to the rise in front of her wagon. The sight before them made McCall halt suddenly and grip Sloan’s arm.

  “What is it?” she whispered, as if the people a hundred yards away could hear her.

  “A hidetown,” Sloan answered, only a few inches from her ear. He’d seen them a few times before. Hunters set up a camp near water and plenty of game. Within a few weeks they’d completely stripped the area of any animal whose fur drew a price. They’d leave the rotting carcasses of the kill where they fell and move on to the next campsite. The wagon McCall had followed must have returned with supplies while the other people worked. Hides of all sizes were staked and stretched out around the campsite—coyote, fox, deer, and several buffalo. Half a dozen men and two women moved around the area, each busy with his or her own work and seemingly paying no attention to the others.

  So many buzzards circled further downstream from the hidetown that the birds looked almost like a black twister.

  “I don’t like these people already,” McCall whispered.

  Her gaze seemed to be moving from hide to hide, stretched out in the sun.

  If they were anything like the hunters he’d met, Sloan had to agree. For the most part they traveled in small bands, living little better than animals. They were a dirty, lawless lot who wouldn’t survive in civilization. They trashed the land without regard of who might come next, thinking nothing of killing all the game in an area or chopping down the last tree for firewood. Now that buffalo hide was becoming more valuable, Sloan guessed skinners would infest the land in larger numbers.

  “These aren’t like the trappers I’ve seen in the mountains.” Sloan could smell the camp and was suddenly in a hurry to leave. “Let’s go.”

  McCall nodded without hesitation. When they turned to leave, the sun reflected off the barrel of a rifle.

  Sloan blinked and focused on the man holding the weapon. He was lean and looked to be made of last summer’s jerky. His clothes were filthy buckskin, and after one breath, Sloan couldn’t believe the man had gotten within five feet of him without being smelled.

  “Evening.” The stranger took a step forward, fouling the air like an angry skunk. Sloan doubted even a starving insect would bother such a man. His rifle rested in the fold of his arm, not pointing at Sloan, but not directed away. “You folks need something?”

  Sloan moved in front of McCall. “We just saw your tracks and thought we’d follow awhile. We’re headed further north.”

  “There ain’t nothin’ further north till you get in Kansas, and there’s safer ways to get there than by this route. You folks alone?” He glanced over his shoulder at the two wagons.

  “We have my grandmother with us,” McCall answered.

  “And my son,” Sloan added. If the stranger had come up from behind them, there was a good chance he’d been close enough to the wagons to see Winter and Alyce Wren.

  The stranger squinted at them a moment as if sizing up the possibility they were robbers. Then he chuckled to himself. “I guess you wouldn’t be planning to jump the camp with your boy and grandmother along.”

  Sloan relaxed a little as he noticed the barrel of the gun move away. “We don’t mean to bother,” he said. “We’ll just be moving on.”

  McCall didn’t budge. First he tugged at her arm, then tried to pull her toward the wagons, but McCall seemed to have taken root in one spot.

  She jerked her elbow from his grip. “Before we go,” she glared at Sloan, “I thought I’d ask the man if he’s seen any Cheyenne.”

  All Sloan could think about was leaving. Every minute they were in the man’s presence was a minute longer than he’d like.

  The stranger rubbed his thin beard and stared at her as if debating talking with her. Finally, he shrugged. “I seen a party of braves several days back. They were looking for something other than me, or I’d be low on ammunition and probably blood by now. Other than that, I don’t go looking for trouble. I’ve survived out here by leaving everything on two legs alone.”

  He looked at Sloan. “My name’s Moses, Moses Sneed, and I travel with my brothers and our women. You’re welcome to share our camp tonight if your woman is afraid. We don’t invite many, but we’ve plenty of meat.”

  Sloan almost laughed. “His woman”—she’d never be that, and he’d guess she’d never be afraid.

  “Thank you for the offer,” Sloan gripped McCall’s arm so tight he heard her give out a little yelp, “but we’ll be moving on.”

  Moses Sneed raised the rifle slightly. “I insist.”

  Sloan turned loose of McCall’s arm and opened his mouth to object. She jabbed her elbow into his ribs before he could speak.

  “Thank you kindly, Mr. Sneed. We’d love to.”

  Ten

  MCCALL MARCHED AHEAD of the men toward her wagon. She knew the children in the back were well hidden by now. “Grandma!” she shouted when several feet away. “We’ve been invited to supper by this man. Are you feeling up to coming?”

  Alyce Wren took the clue as McCall knew she would. “What did you say, sweetie? I’m feeling poorly.”

  “I was afraid of that.” McCall glanced over her shoulder. “Bad water a few days back.”

  The man called Moses nodded in understanding.

  McCall patted Alyce’s hand and winked. “I said, would you like to go to supper down at the camp? These folks are hunters and there will be hides drying everywhere.”

  “You know how I hate that smell.” Alyce wrinkled up her face at the man who stood behind Sloan. “Makes me want to lose my breakfast just thinking about it. I’m not coming.”

  “Suit yourself,” the man mumbled, clearly in no hurry to have Alyce as a dinner guest.

  McCall turned toward the men. “Will there be enough that we might bring her back something?”

  She could tell by Sloan’s expression that he thought they would probably be killed and skinned as soon as they got into camp, so what difference did it make? His gaze kept darting to the rifle, as though trying to silently warn her that they were about to be shot.

  Moses nodded again. “We’ve got plenty. My woman cooks more than we can eat.”

  Alyce pointed her finger at McCall. “You remember I’m real hungry, child. I feel like I could eat enough for a baker’s dozen.”

  McCall swore she’d remember.

  Sloan glanced toward the other wagon where Winter sat, still holding the reins. “My boy will stay here with the old woman. I wouldn’t want her to be alone, sick and all.”

  Moses shrugged. “Your boy looks part Indian.”

  Sloan watched the barrel of the gun move slightly toward Winter. He quickly drew the stranger’s attention back to himself. “Does that bother you?”

  The filthy man shook his head. “Hell, after sleeping with my woman, nothing bothers me.”

  Sloan smiled. He could hardly wait to meet the missus.

  McCall disappeared into the wagon for a minute, then reappeared with something wrapped in a bandanna. She stuffed the secret into her pocket and jumped to the ground. “I’m ready,” she said, as if they were going to a picnic.

  Moses marched a step behind them, down the rise to the camp. He didn’t say a word, but everyone stopped working and gathered to see what he’d trapped.

  McCall slipped her hand into Sloan’s. Not, she told herself, because she was afraid, but because she wanted him to know that he didn’t stand alone in this. She was willing to fight at his side. These people looked like they might war to the death over a bone.

  They didn’t seem to be of the same race, nationality, or even species as her. They looked like they belonged to a time a million years ago when man lived in caves. Their skin was leather, hardened by the sun, and the men seemed to be hairier than the animals they’d skinned. The women were stout, with long mud-colored hair. Their bodies were as shapeless as their dresses. McCall wasn’t sure she could eat anything handed to her by a person so dirty.
>
  “These are my brothers. Noah, Adam, James, and Peter.”

  The brothers didn’t offer hands or say a word. They just stared at McCall as if they’d never seen anything like her.

  “And this is Adam’s woman.”

  The woman nearest Sloan grunted in recognition.

  “And this here is May. She don’t talk, but we all think it was May when we found her. Most of the time she forgets which brother’s woman she is.”

  The one called May grinned and moved a little closer to Sloan. She leaned toward him and seemed to be smelling his shirt. When he looked at her, she smiled, and Sloan noticed half her teeth were missing.

  McCall felt Sloan’s fingers tighten around her hand and she almost giggled.

  “Woman!” Moses yelled suddenly, making everyone jump. “Where are you?”

  Before his voice finished echoing in the valley, a short woman stormed from beneath a tent of hides. She couldn’t have been much over four feet tall, but she was full of fire. Her hair whirled around her like a shaggy sand-colored tumbleweed, and her straight leather dress bulged and bounced with a fullness that was all woman despite her height.

  “Stop bellering at me, Moses!” she shouted in a voice louder than his had been. “I was just getting ready for our company.”

  McCall looked the woman up and down, but for the life of her she could see nothing that Moses’ lady had done in weeks that might be an improvement in her appearance.

  Moses patted her on the head and smiled at McCall and Sloan. “My Eppie do love company.”

  The look on his face seemed to say that he’d do anything for this little woman, for she was his treasure.

  “Nice to meet you, Eppie.” McCall smiled at the stranger with dancing eyes. “I’m McCall.”

  Eppie looked to be in her late twenties, but her movements were free and childlike. “We got lots of food. Come sit a spell and I’ll boil some coffee. My mama used to say coffee and company were created to go together.”

  McCall turned loose of Sloan’s hand and followed the little woman into the shade of a hide lean-to. The others just stared with dull eyes, not enough interest to join, not enough curiosity to care that they hadn’t been invited.

  Moses seemed content just to stand in the late day sun and watch his Eppie. Sloan relaxed as he noticed, for the first time, the barrel of the rifle wasn’t pointed toward him. He folded his arms, widened his stance, and joined Moses in watching while the others wandered off.

  Eppie asked question after question. She was curious about everything. Her face reacted to every story to the point that Sloan found himself watching her more than listening to what the women were talking about. She even cried when she heard McCall’s first man died in a war. Then she lightened and bragged on McCall’s new man as if they were looking at horses and not humans who could hear them. McCall returned the favor and bragged on how tall and strong Moses looked. Eppie seemed pleased.

  But the little woman’s delight was complete when McCall pulled the bandanna from her pocket and handed it to Eppie.

  Bouncing with excitement, Eppie opened the gift and screamed with delight. “Look, Moses, look what the company done brought me!”

  Moses raised an eyebrow at the ball of soap Eppie shoved in his face.

  “It’s soap,” she added. “All cut in the shape of a rose. Did you ever see anything so pretty?”

  “Nope.” Moses looked doubtful.

  Sloan fought to keep from laughing. To the hunter, soap was of little use to begin with. To cut it in the shape of a rose seemed down the road to foolishness and heading full speed into absurdity. But if it made his Eppie happy, the man meant to understand.

  “Smell.” She pushed it beneath his nose once more. “Don’t it smell wonderful? I can just close my eyes and think for sure it’s a flower.”

  Moses took a deep snort, then rubbed his face with the back of his hand. “Sure does, woman. Smells real nice.”

  Eppie plopped down beside McCall once more. “Where’d you ever get such a thing? Are you sure you want to give it to me?”

  McCall smiled, knowing not to make too light of the gift she put little value on but this woman seemed to treasure. “From the time I was a little girl my grandfather used to bring it back to me from New Orleans. He said my mother loved the smell of roses, but could never get them to grow on our land. So if I bathe in rose soap, I’ll be her growing rose. He’d have named me Rose if my father hadn’t objected.”

  “You use this when you take a bath?” Eppie seemed shocked, “You put this pretty thing in the water?”

  McCall nodded slowly. “It makes your skin smell like petals.”

  “I could never use it like that. If I did, it would be gone in a few years after a handful of baths.”

  “You could use it just a little when you wash your face,” McCall suggested. “That way I’d guess it might last a long, long time.”

  Eppie smelled the soap once more, then leaned close to McCall and smelled her. “Every time I smell this, I’ll think of you. Ain’t no company ever gave me something so nice.”

  McCall was touched by the woman’s warmth. Despite her dirty clothes and unkempt appearance, she had the heart of a lady. Moses was a very lucky man indeed.

  The women talked while Sloan and Moses built a fire and cut deer meat into thick steaks for roasting. Moses didn’t say a word for almost an hour. Sloan gave up any attempt to communicate after a few tries.

  It was almost dark when Moses turned and faced Sloan. They were far enough away from the others that no one could overhear the conversation.

  “Your woman asked me if I’d seen any Cheyenne. I didn’t reckon she was talking about those children you got hid in your wagons.”

  Sloan’s fingers brushed the handle of his Colt as Moses continued, “I didn’t say nothing about them, not even to my brothers. I probably would have, but that woman of yours was powerful nice to my Eppie, so I figure I owe you something, and silence seems a proper thing to offer.”

  “Thanks.” Sloan didn’t like taking a gift, even silence, without knowing the price expected in return. “How’d you know about the children?”

  “My brothers like to stay close to camp, but I like to scout around. Can’t sleep without knowing who’s breathing within a mile of me. I seen your fire last night and knew you was heading my way.”

  He stared hard at Sloan. “If it had been just you, I’d have guessed you were kidnapping them kids and taking them back to the reservation for a fee. But they ain’t tied up, and the old woman you left them with could never stop a Comanche cub from leaving if he had a mind to. Besides, we both know you’re heading in the wrong direction if you’re looking for the reservation.”

  Moses paused. Sloan didn’t say a word but waited for him to finish.

  “If you ain’t taking them to the reservation, you’re taking them somewhere else, and I’m guessing it’s to their parents.”

  “If I am, do you plan on trying to stop me?”

  Rubbing his whiskers, Moses answered, “No. I told you I don’t interfere with two-legged creatures. If you’re crazy enough to try such a thing, I’ll not bother you.”

  “Thanks again,” Sloan answered.

  Moses nodded once. “At first I thought it was your idea, and for some reason you were dragging your woman and her grandma into this. But when I met your woman, I figured it were her notion and you were just going along.”

  “Good guess.” Sloan had a feeling Moses had been talked into a few things before.

  “I don’t want to frighten your woman, but there’s others looking for them children.”

  Sloan raised an eyebrow.

  “I met up with three men a few nights ago. They weren’t too friendly and the Apache with them were downright mean. There’s a price on any Comanche scalp in these parts, and the boys plan to make some quick money on the children. Only from the way they talked, they think the band is traveling on foot with an old medicine man.”

  “Did one of
the men have a cut just under one eye?”

  Moses raised one eyebrow almost into his hairline. “You know him?”

  “We crossed paths a few nights back,” Sloan answered.

  “Then you know his kind. You can skin him to the bone, but it’s all bad meat.”

  “I guessed that.”

  “Does he know about your cargo?”

  “No,” Sloan said. “If he did, he’d have made a move.”

  “Or rounded up his friends.” Moses looked almost sorry for Sloan. “Dogs like him always hunt in packs.”

  “I’ll move out at first light,” Sloan whispered, more to himself than Moses.

  “Cross our trail tomorrow, then move ahead of that buffalo herd. You’ll be harder to track from this point on. I’ll see to it after you’ve left.” Moses lifted a wooden platter of meat. “But first we best feed those kids. They’re safe enough tonight.”

  “Thanks,” Sloan said for the third time. “I’m in your debt.”

  “Good.” Moses walked ahead of him. “Then you and your woman will stay at our fire tonight. My Eppie do love company, even if all they’re doing is snoring.”

  Sloan missed a step and almost dropped the pot of beans he was carrying. “Me and my woman?” He couldn’t say no after just thanking the man three times, but he didn’t even want to think about what McCall would say when she learned she would be sleeping in the smelly hidetown…and as his woman.

  Eleven

  “YOU’VE GOT TO be kidding!” McCall whispered as they walked toward their wagons in the dark.

  “I wish I was,” Sloan replied as he crammed his fists into his pockets.

  “But the children?”

  “The children will be fine with Alyce Wren. I made sure they had plenty of wood for the fire and I left my extra Colt with Winter. I’m not sure he’s ever fired a gun, but he said he knew enough to point it at the moon and shoot to sound an alarm. We’ll check on them now and be back by first light.”

  “I’m not sleeping with you.” She stormed ahead as though walking beside him was too close a contact.