Texas Love Song

by Jodi Thomas

  Finally, she softened in his arms. He was able to kiss her as he longed to, showing her how warm a kiss could be. She lifted her arms and draped them over his shoulders. As he stroked her back, he felt her move against him in matching rhythm.

  “Kiss me back,” he pleaded.

  “I can’t,” she answered as she cuddled into his chest, fighting her own feelings.

  “Kiss me back!” The cry came from so deep inside Sloan it shattered the passion he felt. He didn’t just want to kiss her, he wanted her to kiss him. He needed to know that she cared about him a fraction as much as he cared for her, and had since she’d laid her hand over his heart that first night. He wanted one corner of her love, but she wouldn’t allow him even that.

  “You’re not dead,” he whispered, holding her to him as if he could will her to feel. “You can’t be, because…because you’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted.” Fate had played enough tricks on him, surely he wouldn’t find a woman like McCall, only to discover she couldn’t return his feelings. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to make love to.”

  “I can’t,” McCall answered. “I want to, but I can’t.”

  He knew the reasons without her telling him. She’d been ordered and laced within rules so tightly, she couldn’t break free. But that didn’t stop him from wanting her.

  “If I were—”

  “If you were another, it wouldn’t matter,” she interrupted, pressing her cheek against his throat. “You’re the first man ever to make me want to feel. I’ve been told it was wrong to show emotion for so long, I can’t just change in a day and begin to react.”

  When she looked up, he pressed his forehead against hers. “I want so much to make love to you, McCall.”

  “I’ve already said you could. If it will make you Winter’s father, I don’t mind.”

  “No,” he corrected. “You said I could take you. There’s a difference. I can’t use you. It’s not my way. Most of my life I’ve spent not knowing on which side of the fence I stood. But this I know for fact: I’ll not make love to you without you participating. I’ll wait.”

  “I may never—”

  “Then I’ll wait forever.” He kissed her nose. “Just promise once in a while when we’re alone you’ll let me hold you like this. I need to hold you, even if you don’t need me.”

  She didn’t answer, but he could feel her tears against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her so tightly he feared he might hurt her. But she said nothing.

  An hour later, when they returned to camp, her head still rested on his shoulder and his arm still kept her warm.

  As they moved through the shadows, they could see that White Wolf stood beside the wagon. He’d found the blanket Alyce Wren had thrown out and wrapped it around himself while he waited.

  Before Sloan could stop him, White Wolf shook Winter’s shoulder and awakened the boy. He whispered something to him.

  Winter shoved the sleep from his eyes and rose. “White Wolf says you must talk to him.”

  “Now?” Sloan released McCall’s shoulder with a gentle hug.

  “Now.” Winter yawned. “I’m to say his words. But not until the woman leaves.” He glanced at McCall. “That’s what he told me to say.”

  “The woman stays,” Sloan gambled. If White Wolf was going to tell them of trouble, he’d best make sure McCall heard, or she’d never follow his advice and be careful. Sloan slid his fingers down McCall’s arm and took her hand. “He’ll say what he has to say to both of us.”

  Winter talked with the old man for a minute. White Wolf nodded. They all moved to the light of the campfire and sat down as if it were early and not after midnight.

  “White Wolf says he made me go with you because you are the one I ran to when I knew my mother was dead. He says my heart made the decision of which people are now my people.” Winter tried to sound very matter-of-fact, but the words tore at him.

  “He says I will be a powerful man in any world, but I will never belong to you as a child belongs to his family. He says I am a man now and must make my way. You are only my guide for a few moons.”

  Sloan nodded, wondering how much of what Winter said was the old man’s words and how much was a boy’s longing to be grown. “Tell him I agree,” Sloan said, and ignored McCall, who looked like she wanted to object but didn’t dare when she hadn’t been invited to the meeting. She settled instead for poking him in the ribs with her elbow, a habit he found not only irritating, but painful.

  “He also says a group of men are two days’ ride from us. They are a mixture of both our peoples, but they all share one thing….” Winter paused, looking for the right words. “They are all maggots.”

  Sloan understood. “Ask him if they look for his people.”

  Winter whispered and the old man answered. Slowly, he looked back at Sloan. “Some do,” Winter said. “But three men hunt for you. One has a cut just below his eye that is your mark.”

  Sloan felt the blood drain from his body. He didn’t have to ask why the men were coming after him. He knew. The man from the creek who’d beaten McCall—what had his name been—Bull? It must have taken him some time, but the man had figured out Sloan’s identity. Now at least one of Satan’s Seven had found him—maybe three. And Sloan hadn’t made it hard for them by changing his name. He’d ridden into their home state as if daring them. Old Pete in prison used to say, “If you call out the devil, don’t be surprised when he comes a-dancing.”

  Glancing at McCall, a realization struck Sloan. A month ago he’d almost been looking for the Seven, hoping they’d find him and end the worry. But now, now he’d found McCall, and suddenly wasn’t in so much of a hurry to die. There were things he wanted to say to her, times he wanted to spend, and passion he needed to believe her capable of returning.

  If he hadn’t come to Texas, he never would have met her. He might never have found any of Satan’s Seven.

  An hour later Sloan had saddled his horse and was ready to leave. Half the camp had awakened and were standing around discussing his strategy.

  “It’s the only way, McCall,” he said for the tenth time. “If I stay with you, I may get you all killed. The men who are after me have been looking for three years. They’d never leave a few women and a boy alive as witnesses. But the odds are good I can draw them further north, away from Winter’s people and you.”

  “But you’ll be alone?”

  “I’ve been alone most of my life. It’s nothing new to me. I’ll survive.” He glanced over his shoulder as he finished tying his saddlebags. McCall never looked as beautiful as she did right now. Her lips were a little puffy from his kisses and her eyes were wide with question. He wasn’t sure he could look at her when he rode away. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he could leave.

  “But you promised to stay with us until we made it back to a fort.”

  “I promised to keep you safe, and this is the best way. At dawn, head back to Moses’ camp. White Wolf said he’d have a few men follow close to make sure you’re safe. Then, have Moses take you back to the station.”

  McCall straightened, too proud to cry or beg him to stay. “We’ll be fine.”

  Sloan faced her. “I’m not leaving you because I want to. I’ll make it back to the station as fast as I can.”

  He reached to touch her, but she stepped away. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Your job is over. Thank you for helping me deliver the children.”

  She was dismissing him. After all they’d been through together, she was dismissing him! Sloan fought the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. “Fine, General,” he whispered. “It was nice knowing you.”

  Winter handed him a canteen he’d filled with water from the spring.

  Sloan smiled down at the boy. “Take care of the women as best you can, son.”

  “I will,” Winter answered, and brushed the handle of his knife as he’d seen Sloan do with his Colt. “I’ll see that they get back to the station without any harm comin
g to them.”

  Sloan knelt and hugged the boy one last time. “I’m coming back,” he whispered. “I’m not leaving you.”

  “I know,” Winter tried to make his voice strong.

  Standing, Sloan crammed his hat low and took the reins with one hand. Just before he swung into the saddle, he glanced back at McCall.

  “I’ll meet you at the station,” he promised.

  “Good-bye,” she answered, as if she knew he was lying. “Take care.” She turned away as he kicked his mount into action.

  Seventeen

  MCCALL TRIED TO sleep the few hours between when Sloan left and dawn, but couldn’t. Every man she’d cared about had left her, and now Sloan was no exception. She didn’t even want to care about him. He was a no-good drifter who’d never stay in one place. He couldn’t even stay on the same side of a war. She’d be a fool to think he’d be back. He was probably halfway to New Mexico Territory by now. In a matter of days he’d forget her and the station, and if she was wise, she’d forget him.

  Just after dawn, Alyce Wren brought McCall a warm cup of her special herb tea. The old woman insisted McCall lie back down for an hour while she and Eppie took their time with breakfast.

  McCall started to argue, but as the tea warmed its way down her throat, she yawned. She set the half-empty cup aside and curled into the covers inside the wagon. The canvas cover blocked out the early sun. McCall relaxed.

  For a while her dreams floated aimlessly over her life, finally settling in the warmth of a man’s arms. McCall smiled in her sleep as she recognized Sloan’s hold. He always had a way of pulling her against his chest so she could feel the pounding of his heart. Some folks hug with their arms, or lightly with a touch, but Sloan hugged with his heart, warming her no matter how cold she’d felt a moment before.

  In her dream, she raised her face and kissed him as she never could in her waking hours. With each of her responses, he stroked her hair—silently telling her of the pleasure she brought him. She liked the taste of his mouth and continued the kiss.

  Her hands moved over his shoulders, loving the hard feel of his muscles beneath her touch, loving the way her touch made his breath come quicker.

  McCall moaned in her sleep, wishing for more…dreaming for something she’d never known.

  * * *

  Ten miles away, Sloan finally collapsed on his bedroll. The sun was up. He’d done all he could do for one night. He’d crossed his own trail ten times, leaving signs a blind trapper could follow. If one of Satan’s Seven was following him, he should have no trouble finding him after tonight. Sloan had done everything short of cutting arrows into trees to point his path.

  Now it was time to rest awhile, then move on. Sloan had ridden onto rocks about a half hour back and climbed up until he’d found a place big enough to hide his horse. Then he’d left his gear several feet below and curled beneath an overhang so he could sight anyone coming, yet not be seen. The horse would warn him if anything moved within a hundred yards. He laid his rifle and Colt within easy reach and pushed deeper into the rock’s trench.

  Sloan pulled the bandanna from his saddlebags, then propped the bags up as a pillow. Lying back, he unfolded the bandanna until he touched McCall’s picture. There she was, still smiling at him. For a long moment he stared at the tintype, wondering how the beautiful widow had come to mean so much to him.

  As he closed his eyes, she came to him, all soft and wanton. Her mouth was hungry and ready for his kiss even before he lowered his lips. She pressed against him as though she longed to be closer. She touched him with hands of velvet. Unlike in life, in his dream she was the aggressor, moving against him, begging him for more.

  Sloan awoke with a start. He’d dreamed of women before, but nothing so real. He could still taste her in his mouth, and the feel of her body still warmed his side. He could almost smell the rose soap she used in the cold dampness of his tiny cave. He folded the tintype back into the bandanna and placed it in his shirt pocket.

  For a long while he didn’t sleep, but lay awake thinking of McCall. When he did sleep, she didn’t appear in his dreams again.

  By the time he awoke, it was noon. He ate a hard roll and jerky McCall had packed for him, noticing she’d used one of her own clean white handkerchiefs to wrap it in. Today he’d keep riding north, leaving a trail, then tomorrow he’d backtrack and see if the bait was taken. With luck, McCall and the others would be halfway to the fort before those tracking realized they’d been fooled.

  * * *

  McCall watched from the wagon as Eppie jumped into Moses’ arms. The moment they’d seen the camp, Eppie had climbed down and started running like a child who could wait no longer. She hadn’t made it half the distance before Moses appeared from the hide lean-to. He dropped the wood he was carrying and rushed toward her with his arms outstretched. He grabbed her wildly and swung her high in the air. Their greeting made McCall envious.

  “We made it back to her man,” Alyce Wren said from the rocker behind McCall. Since the children had gone she’d insisted on riding in her rocker, now that there was room to set the thing upright. She didn’t seem to mind the trip so much in the chair McCall’s grandfather had given her years ago.

  “They look so happy.” McCall smiled as she watched them. “They must really love one another.”

  “That they do, child, but there’s something else. They got a passion for each other. She’s a part of his need in this life and he’s a part of hers. From the looks of them, I’d say they may be each other’s only necessity in this world.”

  “I loved Holden,” McCall said, more to herself, just because it seemed to need to be said. “But I don’t remember ever thinking he was a part of my need. He was my life, though. From the time I awoke until I fell asleep, I was always thinking of taking care of him. When the army rested, I cooked and mended. When the army marched, I followed.”

  “Did he ever hold you wildly like that man does Eppie?” Alyce Wren asked. “Did he ever need you so badly he’d risk his life to be at your side?”

  “No,” McCall answered, then lifted her chin. “He had his men to think of and the war and a hundred more important things.”

  Alyce Wren rocked. “My father told me once that only one man in a hundred finds a woman so vital to him he can’t live without her. He said maybe only one in a hundred women love enough to keep such a man.”

  “You’re not making sense. I know lots of folks who love their mates.”

  “Enough to be each other’s basic need? Enough to have a passion so deep it blinds? Do they have a longing so deep into their soul that they’d do anything for the other?”

  “Yes,” McCall answered. “I would have loved Holden that much.” The moment the words were out she realized what she’d said. “I mean, I did love Holden that much.”

  “Of course you did, child,” Alyce Wren whispered. “But did he love you back?”

  McCall opened her mouth to say yes, then stopped. In three years she’d never thought that maybe Holden didn’t love her. He’d told her he did several times before they married and a few times afterward. Even to the end, she’d tried to prove her love. But it had never seemed like enough. Alyce was right—he’d never needed her the way Eppie and Moses needed one another.

  “My Eppie tells me I’m supposed to get you ladies back to the fort and beyond safely,” Moses interrupted McCall’s thoughts. “Seems the least I can do, since your man saved her life.”

  “Thank you,” McCall answered without correcting Moses on his choice of words.

  “I’ll collect a few things and be ready to move. You go ahead and get this wagon pointed in the right direction.”

  “I’ll go with you to see them home,” Eppie volunteered. “I’m not staying with the brothers again.”

  Moses laughed. “They’re real sorry they didn’t come to your aid. They thought the braves would only take you, so they didn’t fight. When the last rider grabbed May, they collected their guns, but it was too late.” Mose
s looked around. “Where is May? Did they kill her?”

  “No.” Eppie tried to keep from giggling. “She told us she liked the way the savages treated her. Plus she said they smelled better than your brothers.”

  Moses shook his head. “They’ll be real sad to hear that. I think at least one of them was gettin’ ready to make May his woman. Maybe her leaving saved a fight between them.”

  “They will be real sorry to hear from me when I get through with them.” Eppie laughed. “I’ll skin them alive for not rescuing me when I get back from helping you deliver this wagon. They’ll think twice before letting some brave ride off with me again.”

  Moses patted her on the bottom. “What say we stay a day at the station? I’ve got enough cash that we could sleep in a real bed and eat vittles someone else cooks.”

  Eppie was so excited she rocked the wagon as she climbed in. “Let’s get going.”

  McCall moved out while Moses ran for his gear. Within a few minutes he’d thrown his smelly bedroll into the back of the wagon and tied his horse to the tailgate. By nightfall they’d covered twice the land McCall would have thought they could. Moses knew the route and was a skilled teamster, plus he and Eppie seemed in a hurry to sleep in a real bed.

  The days passed in endless scenery. Only the colorful sunsets broke the boredom of the prairie. When they made camp each night, everyone had a job. McCall cooked, Eppie got out the bedrolls, Winter gathered firewood, and Moses took care of the horses. In less time than she’d thought possible after having all the children to deal with, everyone was bedded down for the night. McCall and Alyce Wren slept in the wagon, Winter beneath it, and Moses pulled Eppie into the shadows for a while each evening before sleeping in the open by the campfire.

  As she had each night since Sloan left, McCall tried to sleep, but she could hear Eppie giggling from the distance. She snuggled into her blankets and tried to force herself to relax. Finally, Moses and Eppie returned to the campfire, and all was silent.