Texas Love Song

by Jodi Thomas

  “It wasn’t kind.” His voice was low now, only a whisper. “I just didn’t want to hurt you any more. I never meant to hurt you in the first place.”

  His fingers moved higher, passing her knees.

  “I can’t blame you for all the hurt.” McCall closed her eyes. She should stop his hand before it went any farther. She should push away and go back into the cabin to wait for the stage. Soon everyone would be here, and she’d never see Sloan again. She’d never allow a man close to her again.

  His fingers reached the top of her stockings. The sudden warmth of his hands on her bare skin felt like fire. Gently, he rolled the stockings a few inches downward.

  “Will you give me credit for some of the pleasure?” he whispered as his hands moved over her legs, pushing the lace of her undergarments higher and her stockings lower.

  McCall gripped the fence so tightly on either side of her that she could no longer feel her arms. But she could feel his hands. Moving over her, caressing in long, heated strokes, pulling her knees open with each action.

  When he leaned against her, she would have fallen backward, but his hands moved around to her hips.

  “Kiss me good-bye, McCall,” he whispered, his voice thick with a longing far deeper than desire. “I hated your leaving without saying good-bye.”

  “No,” she answered, thinking that leaving him asleep had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. If she kissed him again, how far would she have to run to escape feeling?

  He brushed his lips over her cheek. “Kiss me good-bye,” he demanded. “But do it without feeling, so I’ll know that our night together meant nothing to you.”

  The pain in his voice was liquid between them; he was telling her that he needed the hurt of an emotionless kiss. All his life it had been the pain that made him know he was alive. He needed the pain now to walk away.

  Reason shattered into need as she realized no one had ever cared for Sloan. All his life he’d wandered from battle to battle without refuge. He’d been lost in his aloneness so long he didn’t know how to look for a harbor. She’d always been surrounded and advised; he’d been alone so long he saw it as his only home.

  Leaning into him, she kissed him with all the passion and heartbreak inside her.

  His arms tightened around her as he lifted her off the fence and into his embrace.

  Twenty-three

  THE THUNDER OF horses’ hooves whispered from far away, growing louder in Sloan’s mind as if the noise had always been there. The feel of McCall’s legs around his waist…the taste of her mouth…the intoxicating smell of passion swirling around his head…all blindfolded his instincts for caution.

  The noise grew louder, shaking Sloan from paradise.

  McCall cried out in surprise as he lifted her to arm’s length away from him and pushed her toward the house.

  “Run!” he ordered. “Bolt the door. Find Starkie’s guns if you can. Then hide.”

  “But…” McCall looked toward the road as danger registered. She moved to follow his command. She could hear the horses, but her senses were still thick with the hunger Sloan had fired within her. “It’s just the stage.” Even as she said the words, she seemed to realize the riders were coming from the wrong direction.

  “Get inside!” Sloan pulled his shirt together. “Unless my hearing has gone bad, there are only two, maybe three horses traveling toward us. They’re moving far faster than a wagon.”

  McCall ran for the open cabin door.

  Sloan strapped on his gun belt and moved to the porch. “Lock yourself in and don’t come out until Starkie and Bryant get back.”

  McCall turned at the doorway, her mouth open to question.

  “Don’t argue, General! These men aren’t like men you’ve ever dealt with. If they get past me and find out you’re here alone, they’ll make you wish you were dead a hundred times over before they kill you.”

  Stepping into the cabin, McCall threw the bolt. Sloan breathed for the first time since he’d heard the horses. The noise was getting louder. They’d be breaking the rise any moment. He checked his guns and whispered to himself, “If they make it past me, I’ll be dead but they’ll be fewer.”

  The horses broke the ridge from the southeast, traveling like a wild herd. For a twinkling of time, Sloan couldn’t see the riders, only the animals. Then they were closer. He blinked again.

  Only one rider! One very small rider!

  “McCall!” Sloan shouted as he shoved his Colts back into place and broke into a run.

  He was halfway between the cabin and the barn when the three horses slowed only a few feet before reaching him. The two riderless animals kicked and stomped as though not wanting to end the run. They were all lathered and snorting in the cool morning air.

  “Winter!” Sloan cried as he pried the boy’s fingers from the reins and lifted him down.

  Winter fell into his arms as if he were made of rags and not bone. “I’m not too late,” he whispered. “I’m not too late.”

  Sloan grabbed the reins of Winter’s horse and noticed the boy had tied lead lines from his saddle horn to the other two horses. While holding the boy with one arm, he opened the corral and put the animals inside without bothering to untie them.

  McCall was at their side. “Winter, what’s happened?”

  Sloan felt Winter straighten and slide from his arms. He fought down a smile. Even exhausted, the boy was growing too old to be held.

  “I came to warn you,” Winter said as he took deep breaths and placed a hand over each knee. “Five men came by the station last night. They were asking all kinds of questions about you. But we didn’t tell them anything.” He stood a little taller and his breathing slowed to almost normal. “We thought they’d left, but at dawn, after we saw Eppie and Moses off, I went into the barn and found the station manager, Howard. He’d been beat real bad and left in one of the stalls.”

  Sloan looked over the boy’s head at McCall. There was no panic in her eyes, only worry.

  “Is he dead?” McCall touched the boy’s shoulder lightly.

  “No,” Winter shook his head so hard his hair fell into his face. “But he couldn’t walk. Miss Alyce had us put him in bed. Then she worked on him for an hour, telling everybody what to do. She set his arm. Wrapped him up as best she could. And all the while he kept mumbling something no one could make sense of.”

  He looked directly at Sloan. “When she finished, she told me to follow her to the barn. I did. She asked if I could ride fast all morning without falling off. I laughed at her. I’ve been riding like that since I was four. She told me to pick out three of the station’s best horses and follow the rut of tracks the stagecoaches make. She said I’d find you at the end.” He lowered his voice as if afraid to even say the words. “She wasn’t sure if I’d find you alive. If you were alive she thought you would need the horses. If I reached the next station without finding you, she told me to rest, then come back because there was nothing else to be done.”

  “How much head start did the men who beat Howard have on you, son?”

  “Miss Alyce said to tell you two hours, at least.” Winter had told his story; he was starting to relax now.

  “Go get a drink from the well, son. I’ll take care of the horses. You’ve done a good job.”

  Winter smiled proudly and moved to the well. Sloan walked toward the corral with McCall jumping around him like a puppy.

  “He doesn’t make sense,” she whispered. “If they were headed our way, and they’re not here yet, then he’d have had to pass them. Anyone could have heard him coming from a mile away.”

  Sloan began walking the horses as he untied the mess of ropes. “You’re right,” he mumbled.

  “I’m right!” McCall snapped. “What kind of answer is that? Why didn’t they stop him?”

  He handed her the rag he’d used to dry off with only minutes before. She absently began rubbing the sweat from one of the animals.

  “Maybe the manager gave them the wrong informat
ion? He could have sent them east, or south.”

  “Maybe,” he answered.

  “Or what if they saw us leave this morning and knew of a place where they could ambush the stage. They’re out there, probably only a mile ahead of where we broke down, waiting for us.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What if they’re right over the ridge and they were just waiting to see if Winter would lead them to us? What if the manager told them nothing and they followed Winter, thinking he’d be sent to warn us?”

  “Could be.”

  McCall swung the towel at his head. “You’re no help at all. What do you think? You must have some guess.”

  Sloan stopped pouring oats into the feeder. “I don’t have a guess, McCall. I save that for the generals. All I think is that we’d better get out of here as fast and as well-armed as we can. But we can’t take Winter and we can’t leave him here alone, so while the animals rest, we wait for Starkie. I wait and watch and listen. You guess.”

  She wrinkled her eyebrows together and thought of guessing a few names to call him. So what if he was right? He could talk to her about their problem. She realized that if they needed to ride hard and fast, the boy could never stay up with them. He’d already crossed his limit of land today. Starkie would protect him with his life if she asked him. But she had to wait until he got back to ask.

  As if wishing something could make it happen, a wagon came into view from the west with the stagecoach just behind. They were moving slowly, as though out for a Sunday drive.

  McCall waved as relief flooded her. If trouble should come, they now had a much better chance.

  “No one’s waving back,” Sloan whispered as he moved between the horses. “Winter, stay out of sight for a few minutes.”

  Winter nodded silently. A moment later he vanished.

  “Keep waving, McCall,” Sloan mumbled. “Still got that little derringer in your pocket?”

  “Yes.” She slipped her hand into her skirt pocket and felt the gun.

  “Keep your fingers around it, but don’t stop smiling. Just act like we’re working with the horses.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong? Maybe they just can’t see me waving. Maybe some of them are asleep. Maybe they’re talking.”

  “If we can see them, they can see us.” Sloan slipped a bridle over first one horse, then the other. “Winter, can you still hear me?”

  “Yes,” he answered from somewhere near the well.

  “Good.” Sloan saddled one of the extra horses Winter had led in. “See if you can get behind these horses and open that gate back of the barn. When it’s open, shoo the mustang toward me so I’ll know.”

  “Yes, sir,” Winter whispered.

  He moved so quickly, McCall wasn’t sure it was him darting from one shadow to another.

  “What should I do?” McCall felt like she was running in the dark. She had no idea what was going on. Sloan was making no sense, but Winter didn’t argue and Starkie still hadn’t returned her wave.

  Sloan lifted a whittled cane Starkie had left leaning against the barn. “Walk over and slowly latch the gate. Then slide this sideways over the latch. It won’t stop anyone, but it’ll slow them down.”

  McCall followed his directions.

  He threw the second saddle into place and pulled the cinch. “Can you mount a moving horse without my help?”

  “I think so,” McCall answered, thinking she might not have much choice.

  “Then take the reins of this bay and start walking toward the barn like you’re putting him up. When you pass my hat and coat, throw them over the saddle.”

  McCall watched over her shoulder as the wagon approached. The Rogerses were sitting on the back bench as if they were straw people.

  She wrapped the reins around her hand, ready to mount the horse if Sloan yelled.

  Suddenly everyone in the wagon seemed to melt into the buckboard. Starkie slapped the horses into a gallop as the stage stopped abruptly, blocking the road a hundred yards from the cabin. Bryant dropped down into the front boot of the stage and pulled a rifle to his shoulder.

  “Take cover!” Starkie yelled as soon as he thought Sloan could hear him. He almost toppled the wagon as he swung it around only a few feet from the cabin. “Trouble’s right behind us.”

  Sloan swung up into the saddle and grabbed the rope of the horse Winter had ridden. As he kicked his animal, McCall looked back and saw him. With her horse already dancing to run, she climbed atop the bay just as the mustang came into sight from the back of the corral.

  “Ride!” Sloan yelled.

  McCall pushed her horse into a full run, knowing that if the gate was closed behind the barn she’d break both her and the horse’s neck trying to stop.

  Winter was standing by the open gate. McCall galloped through with Sloan a length behind. As he passed the boy, he leaned in the saddle and extended his arm. Winter swung up behind Sloan as if they’d practiced the move a hundred times.

  Gunfire flooded the already charged air, splattering fear into both the animals and McCall.

  She glanced back in time to see Starkie standing beside the wagon with one of his Patterson Colts in each hand. He was firing so fast a man would be a fool to even lift his head enough to take aim.

  As she leaned into the horse for more speed the barn blocked her view. She could still hear the guns firing and the screams of the Rogers women. She rode on as she always rode…fast as the wind. Holden’s brag flashed through her mind. Not even a bullet can catch my wife when she rides.

  McCall only prayed it was true.

  Twenty-four

  SLOAN CUT HIS horse in front of McCall’s and led the way toward the stream. The recent rain had made the water almost a foot deep along the wide creek. They splashed into the water and moved east, allowing the stream to erase any trace of their passing.

  They traveled fast, but they weren’t moving as swiftly as they would have if Winter hadn’t been with them. Sloan constantly paced himself for the boy, looking back every few minutes to make sure Winter had made the turn or climbed the ridge. He’d learned McCall could keep up with him without any trouble. In truth, she rode better than most of the men he’d served with in the cavalry. She must have been a great asset to her husband in the field.

  After an hour, he pulled up and raised his hand to stop.

  “We need to rest the horses,” Sloan said as he swung down. He took all the mounts’ reins.

  McCall slipped to the ground and walked to a rise several feet away. She could see for a mile or more in all directions. She crossed her arms around her but didn’t complain of the cold.

  Sloan took care of the horses while Winter stretched out on the grass. McCall watched and waited. She needed to talk to Sloan, but wasn’t sure where to start. Maybe he blamed her for the mess they were in. He’d said earlier that he wanted to kiss her good-bye and be on his way. He’d kissed her good-bye, but now they were trapped together for a while longer.

  “We’ve got to go back and help the others.” She settled on the only safe topic she could think of.

  Sloan looked up at her as he was checking the bay’s hooves. “There’s no need. Starkie and Bryant can take care of trouble. I’m betting it was Bull Willis and his friends. If so, they’ll try to get away from the station as fast as they can and follow us. It’s me that Bull wants to kill, not those folks.”

  “And now me,” McCall said, more to the open prairie than to him.

  “I know,” he answered, sounding angry again. “I should have never taken the job you offered. If I hadn’t gotten involved with you and the children, even if they’d found me, it wouldn’t have mattered. It was a mistake to let anyone close. You’d think I’d be old enough to know better.”

  “You’re right.” McCall felt her own anger rise. “We should have never gotten involved.” She said the last word in a way that left no doubt it included the night they’d been together.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but he wasn’t sure where to
start. Did he say, “I take it back. I’m not sorry I met you,” or did he order McCall to take her words back, for she’d cut him deeply.

  Staring at her, he saw the coldness returning to her blue eyes. She’d built the wall around herself once more, and it wouldn’t be so easy to scale again. He wished he could say that he would never be sorry for the time they’d spent together. He wanted to tell her that the hours with her in his arms were the only hours he’d lived. But he wasn’t sure she would listen. After all, she’d been the one who left him. She walked out without bothering to explain.

  “What’s happened has happened,” he finally said. “Right now, we’ve got to figure out how best to stay alive.”

  “And keep Winter safe.”

  Winter raised up and leaned on his knee. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  Neither McCall nor Sloan seemed to hear him.

  “They’ll think we’re going back to Howard’s station.” McCall began to pace. “Or to Fort Worth.” She walked, turning sharp corners as if framing a room. “We’ve got to think of an alternate plan. I could go one direction, you another.”

  Sloan stood directly in her path. He wasn’t letting her have her way this time. “We go together! I’m not taking the chance of them following you and not me.”

  Fire darkened her eyes. “I’m going,” her words were almost calm, “where I decide to go. No one…no man has the right to order me.”

  “I can find my way back to the station by myself,” Winter volunteered.

  Again no one listened.

  Sloan fought the urge to grab her, tie her up, and throw her over the saddle. She was the most frustrating woman he’d ever met. It didn’t matter that she thought he had no right to tell her what to do. It didn’t matter that she would be riding right into trouble. Even the fact that Winter might watch him kidnap her wasn’t what stopped him, Sloan realized.

  He hesitated because he knew that eventually he’d have to untie her. When he did, she’d either kill him or, at the least, hate him for the rest of her life.