“Goodnight, Rankin,” she replied, knowing this was the last time she would see this traitorous man she had come to love more than her own father. But how critically she had misjudged him.
“Is something wrong, Cal?” he inquired at her somber gaze.
“I was just thinking, you’ve been more of a father to me than Brax. I hope you realize how much I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
He shifted nervously, remorseful over his past actions. Soon, everything would be settled, there would be no more guarding secrets or stepping lightly. He smiled. “I couldn’t be more fond of you, Cal, if you were my own child. You’re a very special young woman.”
She thanked him, grimacing inwardly at his deceit. She went to her room to lie down, to wait for the proper moment to slip out. Since tomorrow began a new week, the hired hands should be asleep soon. She dozed for a while, checking the clock each time she looked that way. At one o’clock, she stood up, summoning the courage to head for safety and peace of mind. She would carry out some plans here first, then take a horse and ride northward to the train depot in Wichita Falls. When they started a frantic search for her, surely it would be eastward toward Fort Worth.
Barefoot for silence, Cal made her way to Rankin’s work-room, gratified to find the door between his office and bedroom shut. Inside, she closed the other door and cautiously placed a Spanish shawl on the floor to prevent any light from sneaking under it to alarm him. Cal lit the desk lantern, but wisely kept the wick low. She jimmied a drawer and withdrew the cash-box. She shivered in suspense, fearing discovery before she could make her escape. There was no time left to deliberate whether she was right or wrong; she only knew she had to get away for a while. When she had regained her stamina and confidence, she would contemplate a message to Lynx. She counted out three hundred dollars and stuffed it into her shirt pocket. She retrieved two sheets of paper and sat down to write on them.
To whom it may concern:
I, Calinda Braxton Cardone, do willingly surrender all legal and moral claims to my half of the Cardone Ranch to Lynx Cardone on this date September 1, 1878, in exchange for my marital freedom and the sum of $45,300 in said debts to Rankin and Lynx Cardone. Neither I, nor any of my heirs or relatives, will have future claims against this land from this date forward. Nor will Elliott Braxton, proclaimed deceased last month, nullify this agreement should he ever return and lay claim against it.
Cal signed the statement and placed it with the official deed which her father had stolen years ago. On the other paper, she wrote a letter to Lynx. She sighed painfully before ending their stormy affair. What did one say in light of such treacherous betrayal? How did one say goodbye forever to the love of her life? What words could halt this vicious circle of despicable vengeance?
Lynx,
As you have doubtlessly learned by now from Kyle Yancey and the letters which you found in our room, I know the dark secrets which you and your father withheld from me about our parents and the ranch. The letters were placed there intentionally for your discovery. Many times I have opened the door for your admissions, but you refused to enter and banish your deceptions to the past where they rightfully belong. Your secrecy speaks loudly and painfully. I can understand your mistrust and silence in the beginning, but not after our marriage and your vows of love. I have no knowledge of the whereabouts of Laura and Brax, nor will I make any attempt to locate them. To avoid more suffering on everyone’s part, I’m leaving the ranch and yielding its deed and ownership to you. I know this is unnecessary as the unjust law states our marriage relinquished my claim to you. Even with the truth and the deed, I would never have placed any claim on your ranch. I also give you everything which I leave behind to dispose of as you wish.
With the deed in your possession, you have what you desired from me. Surely your hatred and revenge can be sated with this substitute victory over Brax? Please don’t come after me, but allow this tragic matter to end; bury the past and find peace and happiness.
I must apologize for taking money as my treacherous father did, but surely half of this ranch is worth $45,300? I will consider all debts and obligations fulfilled from both parties. I shall never understand your cruel deceits. How I wish we could have discovered the trust and happiness which my father prevented. Don’t concern yourself over my safety and health. Perhaps one day you will regret all you have sacrificed for an earthly mistress without warmth or feelings, as your dirt vixen is far more demanding than I.
I don’t know how many of my troubles and dangers were at your hands, and I hope I never learn that final secret. I give you back your freedom, as I retrieve mine. Knowing everything, how I loved you and needed you…
Calinda
She folded the letter and placed it inside an envelope, dropping her wedding band inside, then sealing it and writing his name on the front. In a neat row, Cal placed the deed with her relinquishing statement, her father’s will and letter for proof of her past ownership, and the heart-rending letter to Lynx. She stared at the line of multiple betrayals, then went upstairs.
Cal gathered the small bag with the few things she would need for her journey. She didn’t know what she would do when she reached Georgia, but she would find a way to survive. If she had learned anything since coming here, it was how resilient and bright she was. She slipped out of the house and to the stable. She saddled a horse and walked him far from the yard before mounting, denying the twitches in her shoulder. She sat on the animal’s back and gazed at the hacienda style home she had shared with two unknown foes for many months. It was over, this cycle of tragedy which her own father had initiated.
She clicked the reins and rode off without glancing back. Cal knew which road headed off from this one toward the north. She shifted her gunbelt to be ready for any trouble ahead. She was wearing a light jacket to conceal her feminine figure, her flaming curls tucked beneath her hat. She had separated the money, hiding some inside her hatband, some inside her right boot, and some inside her jeans pocket. If she were robbed, chances were they wouldn’t find all of it.
She chose a steady pace and rode for hours, halting to rest the animal as the sun peeked over the distant horizon. She travelled within sight of the dirt road, but a safe distance away from anyone who might come along. She would eat and rest later, once she was assured of her success. Besides, she was too queasy to eat so early. Usually that lingering annoyance faded by lunchtime.
As the sun rose higher in the pale blue sky on this humid September Monday, Cal became warm and damp. She headed for a cluster of trees to rest and cool herself and the horse. She slowly consumed the cold ham and biscuits which she had prepared yesterday. She watched the horse as he grazed peacefully at the thirsty covering at his hooves. She was so weary and sleepy, but she dared not doze this soon. She needed to travel most of today and tonight, then sleep around daybreak. After her initial caution, she would ride at night and sleep in some hidden place during the day to prevent being seen or accosted. As she looked over the rugged landscape, pangs of loneliness and trepidation assailed her. Was she mistaken, impulsive, rash?
When she came to an area which was fenced off on both sides, she had no choice but to ride along the dusty road. When Cal noticed a single rider approaching her, she tensed, checking her pistol for readiness. The man passed her and nodded in greeting. Calinda noticed how well-armed he was, but his expression was genial and his gaze friendly. Calinda rode on, unaware of the way he twisted in his saddle to stare at the retreating back of a beautiful woman with blazing hair sneaking from beneath her tan hat. Intrigued, he shrugged and rode on toward Fort Worth, assuming she lived nearby.
Mid-afternoon, Calinda reached a large stream. She reined in her horse and slid off his back, allowing both of them to drink. She refilled her canteen and splashed her face with tepid water. When she heard the mournful sounds of cattle nearby, she panicked; for cattle meant cowboys, witnesses to her passing. She mounted up and headed off again, her attention northward. Cal refused to think
about what she was leaving behind or what she was facing. She tried to defensively block-out all realities, but for her arduous trek.
Calinda had planned on Rankin’s normal schedule to aid her flight. But the concerned man returned home early since Salina was gone. Near three in the afternoon, Rankin headed toward the house from the stable. He greeted Steve and went inside, dismissing him from his watch since early that morning. He glanced around curiously as he entered the quiet house. He called Calinda’s name, but there wasn’t any response. He went into the empty kitchen, then the den.
Rankin decided Cal must be napping, so he headed for his office to do bookwork. As his eyes touched on the neat line of papers, an ominous chill walked over his body. He snatched up the ranch deed to scan it and her attached paper, freezing in consternation. He noticed the letter and will which he had read another night. He lifted the envelope with his son’s name on the outside. He cast aside any reservations and ripped it open, shocked and alarmed by the words which greeted his eyes. He tossed the papers aside and rushed upstairs. She wasn’t in her room. He looked in every room, checking beside and behind furniture to see if she had passed out somewhere. He looked on balconies and finally realized the astonishing truth.
A hopeful thought tugged at his mind. How could she leave with Steve on guard? Surely Cal was outside somewhere, perhaps hiding and waiting to sneak off tonight. He rushed to the stone fence and called Steve back to the house. Rankin questioned the guard about her absence. Steve told him he hadn’t left the porch all day, even to eat. He said Charlie had brought his food and had tried to offer some to Mrs. Cardone, but she didn’t answer their knock. They assumed she was resting upstairs. Steve hadn’t seen Cal all day.
“That’s strange; I can’t find her,” Rankin worried aloud.
Steve said he would search around the house and ask at the stable. If she left, it was by the kitchen door. Steve checked the water-shed, the supply sheds, the stable, and the surrounding yard. He questioned Charlie and several other men, to no avail.
When Steve returned with his unsettling news, Rankin was panicked by her incredible departure. How could she run away? What should he do? How long ago had she left? To go where?
Rankin chose his words carefully when he spoke with Steve. “She hasn’t been herself since that shooting, Steve. She’s scared and sick. Get some of the men to search the ranch. Bring her back whatever she says. I’m heading into town to warn Lynx. I’m putting you in charge of getting her home.”
Steve nodded and went to issue those orders to the men who had returned from the range. The desperate search for Calinda was on within minutes. Rankin and Seth headed for town at a swift pace. It was five o’clock when he sent his telegram to the Texas Timbers Hotel in Austin. He paid the agent to remain open until he received an answer from his son, offering the agent on the other end the same amount from his son to pass their urgent messages along.
At six-thirty, Lynx returned to the hotel from his tormenting meeting with Kyle Yancey. It had taken heavy persuasion to pull the facts from that elderly man. As Lynx had feared, Calinda had the ranch deed and her version of the truth. He cursed his distance from her and the train which didn’t leave until morning. As certain as the changing seasons, his love had been subtly probing for his confessions. He understood how his refusals must have appeared to his confused wife. He raged at what she must be enduring at this very moment.
The clerk called Lynx over, handing him an urgent telegram. He told the puzzled Lynx that the sender was awaiting a response at any hour. Lynx unfolded the paper and shuddered in terror:
Lynx, Have ranch deed. Cal knows truth. Said nothing. Ran off. Can’t locate. Send advice. Hurry home.
Rankin.
Lynx rushed to the telegraph office and pounded on the door. The man let him inside after he gave his name. He composed his response:
Rankin. Search everywhere. Ask sheriff for help. Horse too slow. No train until morning. Home at two. Meet me. Must find. Saw Yancey. Looks bad. Wire Dallas sheriff. Check trains. Stages. Lynx.
Lynx paid the man for his delay and assistance. He rushed to Major Jones’ room at the hotel and poured his troubles and fears out to his friend. Jones said he would send messages to all his men to be on the lookout for her. Jones felt great sympathy for his friend, but gently scolded Lynx’s actions. “There’s no fair swap for truth, son, not even with good intentions,” he finished sadly as they parted.
The violence and dangers of this wild frontier having been forced upon her, Calinda stubbornly drove herself onward until her head and shoulder throbbed and tears threatened to choke her as she tried to govern her pain and emotions. She had been riding since two this morning, and the moon’s angle indicated it was nearly midnight. But for rest and water stops, she had been on this deserted trail for over eighteen hours. Surely it was safe to slow her flight.
Cal had made a wide detour around one small town and concealed herself when a stagecoach thundered past her. Fortunately, there had been cedar brakes and live oak stands or arroyos to offer her protection from wary eyes. She had continually observed all directions to prevent anyone from approaching her unseen, a time-consuming measure, but a vital one. She had controlled the reins with her right hand, but the jolting motion of her pace was plaguing her sensitive injuries. Each time the horse’s hooves touched the ground, pains shot through her chest and back. The muscles around the wound had grown stiff and angry; her head was pounding. Her body ached all over; Cal was exhausted. She was forced to give in to her body’s demands.
Lynx couldn’t sleep all night; he paced his room until it was time to catch the train to Fort Worth. Along the journey the clicky-clack of the rails seemed to chant, “She won’t come back. She won’t come back. She won’t come back…” Lynx heard that ominous message until he was tensed and haunted. For someone alleged to be cunning and fearless, he had been a cowardly fool.
Whatever it took, he would locate her and force her to listen. He didn’t care about the ranch if he lost her. Even from an unknown distance, Brax was hurting him; the traitor was stealing another love from his life, one more precious than his devious mother.
When the train slowed, Lynx bolted off and ran toward his father before it halted. Rankin’s forlorn expression said everything; no news. Lynx accepted her letter and read it, quivers passing over his towering frame. Could he blame her? But she was wrong. She was still mending. There was no telling what kind of perils she was confronting along the trail. But what trail?
He listened to Rankin’s revelations of yesterday, tormented by her desertion and desperation. Lynx tried to think as she would. Where would she go? She had nearly two days on him. But she was a woman, and she wasn’t fully healed. He had to make certain he chose the same direction to overtake her. He grimaced at the thought of his beautiful and vulnerable wife out there alone somewhere, a temptation to any man who saw her, too weak or untrained to defend herself.
“You checked the stagelines and trains?” Lynx asked.
“Everything I could imagine, son. She took a horse,” he hinted.
“She could catch either anywhere along the line,” Lynx fretted.
“They’ve been told to watch for her and alert us if she’s spotted,” Rankin tried to encourage his distraught son and himself.
A tall, lanky man ambled toward them. He smiled genially and spoke to Lynx. “You look like a puma with a thorn in his paw, Lynx.”
“I’ve got a terrible problem, N.O.,” Lynx began, then explained it to Lieutenant N.O. Reynolds of the Texas Rangers, one who had been at Round Rock and knew of Lynx’s secret identity.
“What does she look like?” Reynolds inquired sympathetically.
When Lynx described Calinda, Reynolds beamed in pleasure. “Sounds to me like the lady I saw on the road to Wichita Falls yesterday,” he casually informed Lynx, then gave his impression of her and the horse.
“She was alone?” Lynx fearfully inquired.
“Yep. Thought it strange, but d
idn’t question it. Figured she lived around there. Too pretty to be out riding alone.”
“When? Where?” Lynx asked, his hopes building by the minute.
“About forty miles south of Jacksboro, that’s where I was coming from, around threeish.” Reynolds flexed his aching muscles.
Lynx quickly tallied how far ahead she must be by today. Even riding all day and night, she couldn’t make Jacksboro by now. He had to reach her before she entered that rowdy and hazardous town. “Why don’t you hop that train to Taylorsville, then head southwest to intercept her?” Reynolds offered the same solution Lynx was planning.
“You hold the train while I rent a horse and get some supplies,” Lynx entreated Reynolds’ help.
“I brought Star and supplies, son. I figured you would head out quickly as you arrived,” Rankin informed the optimistic man.
While Rankin went for Star at the livery-stable, Reynolds and Lynx made arrangements with the conductor to take Lynx to Taylorsville. By six Tuesday evening, Lynx was heading northwest on the AT&SF Railroad. Within two hours, he would be riding Star to reach the Jacksboro road about ten miles south of town. He would follow the road southward with the hopes she hadn’t reached that far yet. In her weakened state, Cal must be travelling slowly and cautiously.
Lynx guided Star off the train at the water-stop and leaped on his strong back. As if sensing his beloved master’s urgency, the mettlesome and nimble beast galloped off in the assigned direction Possessing great stamina and intelligence, the animal raced swiftly, his keen ears pricked for any hint of danger.
Steadfast and unrelenting, the two travelled as one to rescue the love of Lynx Cardone. Besieged with panic, Lynx wondered where his wife was beneath this same full moon which hopefully lit his path toward her. What if she had altered her course? What if she were battling some villain this very moment? What if she had fallen ill beneath her reckless pressures? Somewhere in this vast and precarious territory, his woman was defenseless and suffering.
First Love Wild Love Page 47