“De hot watta is on de way, Miz Ellen.”
It was good to be home. Jesse had come to like the quiet elegance of the house, the carefully prepared meals served on the white cloth, but he knew it was temporary. He had no doubt his future here was over the moment Travis took over. In that one thing, he had been a failure. It was Ellen’s greatest wish that he make a man of Travis, and he had failed. Nothing he could do was going to change Travis in the least. He was hell-bent for destruction and he, Jesse, was determined not to go along with him.
Ellen was beautiful that evening in her plum-colored muslin gown with a high neckband and long, fitted sleeves. The narrow bodice was pert and pleasing on her slender figure. Jesse watched her charm the captain. The gentle, smooth tone of her voice and the radiance of her smile affected the captain so much that he was scarcely aware of what he was being served.
Captain Kenneth Slane was ten years out of West Point. He was one of the officers sent by the army in 1848 to establish a cordon of eight frontier forts about sixty miles apart, across Texas from the Rio Grande northwest to the upper Trinity River, to protect the settlements to the east from Indian raids from the west. The town of Hamilton spread around Fort Croghan, one of the forts in this cordon. The fort guarded the northwestern approach to Austin, the state capital. Captain Slane was in charge of Company A, Second Dragoons, stationed at the fort.
Light conversation halted as the last course was served. The dessert was pecan pie topped with a generous helping of cream flavored with sherry sauce. Ellen beamed approvingly at Jacob, who hovered in the doorway until his mistress signaled. When the talk resumed after coffee, she could no longer resist broaching the subject that challenged her curiosity.
“What brings you out from the fort, captain? Whatever it is, we are indeed grateful for your company.”
“Thank you, ma’am. My reason for being with the troops is such an unpleasant thing to discuss in a lady’s presence, but the truth is, I am making a tour. The policing of the territory has been shifted to the army now that the Texas Rangers have been moved out. In the last few months, almost one hundred settlers have been killed and scalped between here and Fredericksburg. My outriders and scouts are watching various scattered bands of Apaches in the hills. I mean to come to grips with them and determine their strength.”
“Slater McLean had a run-in with mountain Apaches a few days ago.” Jesse’s eyes searched those of the captain. He was curious, and suddenly aware there was more to the expedition than the captain’s answer implied. “They were a ragtailed outfit, and Slater had to kill half a dozen of them. He said they were a wild bunch, without leadership.”
“Oh, my!” Ellen looked from Travis to Jesse, her eyes large and questioning. “Why didn’t you tell me? I never gave a thought to Indians today.”
“You wasn’t supposed to,” Jesse said softly. “Tom and Travis were scouting ahead, and we had the drovers.”
“Did you see any sign of Indians, Travis?” Ellen was attempting to draw her silent, sullen son into the conversation.
“Wasn’t looking for any.” There was an edge of sarcasm in his tone. “I doubt it would take a company of cavalry to flush out a few half-starved Indians.”
Captain Slane flushed a little. “My platoon could hardly be considered a company.” His voice was dry, but when he turned to his hostess his face was clear of anything but polite admiration.
Nothing like a bright smile to cover an awkward moment—Ellen turned the full force of her attention on the captain. She glided to her feet.
“Perhaps you gentlemen would rather retire to the parlor for cigars and brandy,” she suggested cordially.
She allowed the captain to escort her across the hall. They paused briefly to watch Travis stride purposefully out the front door, without a word or backward glance.
“You must excuse my son, captain. He’s not in the best of moods these days.” There was a whiteness around her tense lips that did not go unnoticed by the captain.
On previous visits, Kenneth Slane had been able to converse with Travis, still, he didn’t consider him to be much but lazy and irresponsible. This beautiful, gracious woman had been short-changed where her son was concerned, though blessed in having a man like Jesse for a foreman. He wondered if the rumor that they were lovers was true. Jesse was fond of her, it was certain, and he couldn’t blame him. No, sir, Ellen McLean was a beautiful woman, and if he was any judge, a passionate one.
It was much later when the captain got a chance to speak with Jesse alone. They walked down the trail to where the platoon was bivouacked.
“A week ago, an army caravan was ambushed, twelve men were killed. It just so happened it wasn’t the pay wagon or one carrying weapons. The wagons were ransacked and clothing and food taken.”
Instinctively, Jesse knew this wasn’t all the captain had to say, so he waited.
“It was meant to look like an Indian raid. One dead Apache was left behind and several dead horses. I’ve never known of Apaches leaving their dead, and I know for certain they don’t kill horses unless there’s no other way. The four horses were deliberately shot in the head.”
“Don’t appear to me it was Apaches.”
“My scouts swear it wasn’t, but I’m keeping it under my hat for the time being.”
“According to Slater, the bunch he ran into couldn’t have whipped their way out of a tow-sack. He picked off most of them himself. Said they were disorganized and hopped up on loco-weed or whiskey. He wouldn’t a killed a one of them if he could have helped it.” Jesse stopped and lit a smoke. “Good man, Slater, he’ll meet you half way to be decent. But he don’t take no shit.”
“I’ve heard that about him. I’ll be going his way in a few weeks. I’d appreciate your company; that is, if Mrs. McLean can spare you.”
“I’d like that. Thanks for asking me. There’s more here than meets the eye.”
They stopped on the trail, the familiar sounds of the encampment reaching them: clinking of pans, low masculine voices, blowing and stamping of tethered horses.
“I hear a mighty good-looking woman came in on the stage and went out to McLean’s Keep. Slater import himself a bride?”
“Well,” Jesse answered carefully, “I don’t know if it’ll come to that. The girl and her brother own the claim across the creek from Slater. It seems her mother filed on it, and Sam and Slater improved on it for her. It’s the strip that runs between McLean’s Keep and the Rockin’ S.”
“Interesting,” Captain Slane said slowly. “I’m anxious to meet the lady.” He started to say more, but stopped. His sharp eyes were peering into the darkness behind Jesse. “We’ll be pulling out early. I’ll say goodbye, Jesse. It was an enjoyable evening.”
“Goodnight, captain. Send word when you’re ready to patrol south.”
Jesse turned up the trail. The shine from a silver beltbuckle caught his eye. Travis, obviously listening. Jesse pinched out his cigarette and, flipping it toward the glint in the darkness, went back toward the house.
Nothing can hang on for long when its time is past, Jesse mused, as he lifted the whiskey bottle and poured himself a drink. His time here was coming to a close. It was time for him to consider what was best for him. And for Ellen. This was her home. She would never leave it. The thought of parting with Ellen was not as disturbing as it would have been a few years—or even a few months—ago. There had been a time when he would have killed Travis; waylaid him and killed him in cold blood, if necessary, in order to stay with Ellen. Now, the simple truth was he had become dissatisfied with his life.
Mentally, he saw the girl again: big green eyes, unruly bronze curls, her lips, face and neck marked by Travis’s attack. Then, the frightened eyes that turned on him when he stepped from the shadows to give her a push in the swing, the color draining from her cheeks on hearing Travis’s insults. All day, he had been seeing that face.
He finished his drink and started up the stairs, his mind lingering on the woman and her child
out at McLean’s Keep. She would be safe there. As safe from Travis as she would be anywhere.
He was still thinking about her when he opened the door to his room. He stood still for a moment, trying to bring his thoughts back to the present. In the faint glow of the oillamp burning on his bureau, he saw Ellen, lying relaxed and smiling, on his bed. He quietly closed the door.
When he turned, she was beside him, dressed in a simple, flowing pink robe, her blonde hair parted in the center, falling freely to her waist, her half-shut eyes containing the unmistakable look of longing.
Jesse looked down at her critically, as if assessing her for the first time. For a moment, he felt awkward. He couldn’t greet her as he had in the past when she had surprised him in his room. The image of the girl at McLean’s Keep created a formidable barrier between them.
“Jesse, darling,” she said in a deeper, softer voice than the one she usually used, “I’ve missed you.”
“You knew where to find me,” were the only words he could find.
“It wasn’t convenient, darling. I’ll deny myself ’before I’ll be indiscreet.”
She kissed him lightly with her hot, moist, eager mouth, and pressed her softness against him, pressing the area of his sex firmly with a circular motion of her hips. Then her eyes narrowed.
“I love how you touch me, Jesse . . .” Her voice was a whispering monotone. “You make me come alive, Jesse . . . be good to me, darling. Love me . . . a little.”
For an instant, Jesse hesitated. She kissed him again. The scent of her filled his nostrils. In seconds, the warmth of her body fused into his and he felt a surging excitement, a tingling warmth. He lifted her hair and buried his face in her neck. He could feel her heat, the warmth of her breath on his ears and neck. His mouth covered hers and he kissed her like a hungry child. His hands moved hesitatingly; then as he could feel her assent, he gripped her hard.
When she struggled a little, he loosened his arms and stood away from her obediently. He made no move to resist her when she began to remove his coat, then his shirt and trousers. It was a ritual between them. When he stood nude before her, she slid her hands down over his chest, feeling the smoothness of his ribs, the powerful muscles in his shoulders and back. Her experienced hands moved quickly, unnerving his body with their probing and caressing, seeking the response she desired. She loved the powerful feeling of knowing that her touch brought vulnerable animal sounds from him, and he stood quivering when she stroked certain sensitive areas. It was only when his powerful body had taken as much as it would endure and his clenched fists and twisted face told her his control was about to break that she allowed him to touch her.
He jerked the robe from her body and snatched her up in his arms. In two quick strides, he reached the bed and literally threw her onto it. His mind was a complete blank. Only his own release and the pleasing of Ellen was important to him now.
Seven
Summer was toting a bucket of water up from the creek to water the garden when she heard the sound of a horse splashing. Looking over her shoulder she saw Slater, seated on a big black horse, leading a small sorrel. Almost a week had passed since she had gone to the ranch house and he had turned his back on her.
Instantly, she was aware of the sweat-soaked dress clinging to her bosom and the flying hair escaping down her neck. She cursed the color that came up to flood her face.
The horse came up alongside of her. The saddle creaked as Slater reached down and took the bucket from her hand.
“John.” His voice was not loud, but it had authority. John Austin, Iying on his stomach in the dirt, jumped to his feet.
“Hello, Slater.”
“Any man worth his salt don’t laze around while his women work.” He handed him the bucket.
“Jack said it was dawdling.”
“Whatever it is, we don’t do it.”
Summer wanted to say something in the boy’s defense. She wanted Slater to know that John Austin was the way he was because she had not had time to stop and teach him practical things. All the time she could spare had been used to satisfy the boy’s craving for schooling. Slater’s eyes shifted to her and she was certain, from the way be looked at her, that he knew what she was thinking, feeling.
“He helps when I ask him.” Her chin went up. “Sometimes, his mind is on other things.”
“You do too much for him,” Slater said quietly. “He’s lazy.”
“He is not!” she protested. “He just thinks about . . . things.”
He ignored her and turned to the boy. “Have you ever had a horse?” John Austin shook his head. “You’ve got one now.” He handed the boy the reins of the small sorrel. “He’s yours for as long as you take care of him. You are to take care of him, understand? I don’t mean your sister or Pud. You.”
Summer’s heart lurched. “Oh, I don’t think . . . I mean, he doesn’t know about . . . he’s never. . . .”
Slater was faintly amused. “It’s time be was put in the traces.”
“You misunderstand me. I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“He’ll survive a few knocks. Get on the horse, son.”
When Summer made a move to assist her brother, Slater edged his horse in between her and the sorrel. She looked up to protest. The horse had turned and the scarred side of Slater’s face was turned to her. She caught her breath sharply, involuntarily wincing at the pain he must have suffered. He misunderstood her reaction and his mouth tightened and his nostrils flared. A strange gleam came into his eyes.
“Ugly, isn’t it?” Her innocent amazement seemed to anger him, and the livid expression in his eyes made her take a step backwards. “Not handsome like Travis McLean.” His drawl was taunting. “Never judge a man by his looks. Judge him by his actions.”
“What makes you think I’m judging you?”
“The way you’re looking at me. Like you’ve suddenly seen the devil himself.”
“I was only thinking of how you must have suffered.”
He shook his head slowly from side to side, as if he didn’t believe her. His hard stare never eased from her face.
“It was nothing compared to seeing my pa shot down by cowards with covered faces, and knowing who was responsible and not being able to do anything about it!”
From under straight dark brows she studied him curiously. His scarred cheek, his hard dark eyes, the derisive slant of his well-shaped, firm mouth, the pugnacious jut of his jaw. All gave the impression of toughness. He looked as if he lived and worked for only one thing—revenge. Slowly, her glance drifted down to the gunbelt strapped firmly about his hips and the revolver resting against his thigh. She guessed the gun had been a part of him for so long he would feel naked without it.
He continued to watch her, his thick lashes almost hiding the blue-black eyes. She had the impression that all his muscles were coiled and ready to spring into action, as if she were an Indian. A tingling went down her spine, and was followed suddenly by overwhelming weariness. Almost without realizing it, she rubbed a hand across her brow in a gesture of near-exhaustion.
When he spoke, his voice was soft as velvet. “I’ll snake water up in a ditch if you insist on having the garden. You don’t need it, you know. There’s plenty at the Keep for all of us.”
“No. You’ve done enough. We don’t expect you to feed us, too.”
From under the brim of his tilted, broad-brimmed hat, his eyes glared at her, wicked, livid light flickering in them.
‘’You heard me,” he retorted curtly. “There’s no need for you to exhaust yourself carrying water to this garden. Sam McLean planned for this ranch to be part of the Keep. We plant corn, wheat, and grow vegetables. We raise chickens, keep bees, and run cattle. We also have an orchard. This place is part of us.” Bitterness edged his voice. “Or have you already decided to join your land to Travis McLean’s?”
“No!” Her cry of protest came straight from her heart. She was on the verge of tears, suddenly, because she couldn’t bear the tho
ught of him being so angry and suspicious of her. She realized how distant she had grown from the boy she had once adored. “I don’t know you,” she managed to say, “and I don’t know them. I only wanted a place to bring John Austin.” Her mouth trembled and she blinked rapidly to keep the tears from disgracing her. “I won’t be in the middle of your feud with Travis and Ellen. And . . . another thing . . . I don’t want this land. My brother and I are not entitled to it. You and your father made the improvements on it. All I ask of you is a place for John Austin until he is old enough to make his own way.”
She stood in troubled silence while Slater looked at her. He couldn’t help but wonder at the grit of this woman. He hadn’t counted on her disrupting his whole life, as she had done since the first day he saw her getting off the stage at Hamilton. She stood stiff and proud and he saw her fine-boned profile set with the effort not to betray her tears.
“No, you don’t know me at all, Summer. But you’re going to.” He touched the brim of his hat obligingly. “I’ll be back.” He looked over his shoulder and gave a short whistle. The sorrel pricked up its ears and moved slowly in behind the big black. Slater turned his horse toward the creek and the sorrel followed. John Austin feet flapping against the mare’s sides and holding tightly to the pommel, gave Summer a huge smile as he passed her.
She stood wiping the tears from her cheeks with her fingers, wondering vaguely why she wept, why he affected her emotions in a way that she couldn’t control. She was losing her hold on the person she had always tried to be: composed, competent, wellmannered.
Sadie walked over to her quietly. “Let’s rest a while.”
“Suits me.”
The strong sunlight had caused the freckles to pop out in surprising numbers on Sadie’s pert nose, and her bronze hair, damp with sweat, was kinking into tight curls. She looked searchingly at Summer, trying to decide if the dampness on her cheeks was caused by tears or sweat.
“Who was that man?” she asked, after they had refreshed themselves with a cool drink.
Dorothy Garlock Page 9