The two men took their positions, and Luke gave instructions. “On the count of three. One, two…” On the three count, Ethan was lifted and carried outside. The bottom of the wagon was covered with blankets and a soft pillow to cushion his injured head. Charlotte climbed into the back and took Ethan’s hand into a trembling embrace.
Luke glanced behind him. “I sent Caleb ahead on a horse to tell Señora we are coming. Ready?” he asked.
Charlotte nodded, and the buckboard lurched forward. The wagon swayed and bumped over the dirt track, but Ethan lay impassive. Charlotte guessed an hour had passed by the time the wagon rolled around a final bend and pulled to a stop in front of a sprawling home.
A small woman emerged from the building as the buckboard ground to a stop. “Charlotte, I’m Esperanza Murray, a friend of your mother and step-father. Welcome to my home.”
Charlotte peered over the side of the wagon at the tiny woman. Her hair was a glossy black, shot through with silver. It sat atop her head in a braided coil. The large ruffle of her white blouse dipped off her shoulders revealing an expanse of toffee brown skin. A skirt of vibrant color swirled around feet encased in woven shoes.
“Thank you, Mrs. Murray,” Charlotte replied.
“No, no, you must call me Esperanza. The staff and the gauchos call me Señora, but I have never been a missus.” Her eyes were bright with wit and intelligence. “That title, missus, is a gringo thing.” She motioned for Charlotte to get out of the wagon and took her hand. “We have a room prepared for Sheriff Ford. If we step away, the men will carry him inside.”
Charlotte followed them up a wide set of stairs and into a bright, airy room. Doors opened to a small balcony allowing a cooling breeze to sweep the room. She hovered nearby as Ethan’s body was laid on the bed.
“A bath is prepared for you in the room across the hall. I will have the housekeeper find you a suitable nightgown and robe. We’ll worry about more clothes tomorrow. After you have bathed, a meal will arrive on a tray.” Esperanza stood tall for a short woman. She was familiar with giving orders, with being obeyed.
“But Ethan…” she began.
“Will be fine. I will stay with him while you refresh yourself.” She pointed at the door behind which a bath lay in wait.
Charlotte closed her eyes and a small hum vibrated in her throat. A bath, how wonderful to sink her aching, tired body into a tub of soothing water. Without a word, she left the room and crossed the hall.
The bath and clean night clothes had her half-way to comfort. The food steaming on the tray would finish the job. There was a spicy soup, a piece of round flat bread, a little pile of beans and some reddish rice on the plate. The foods were unfamiliar but delicious, fragrant and foreign.
Clean, refreshed, replete, she returned to Ethan’s side. “I need to feed Ethan some broth.”
“Maria and I did that while you bathed.” She patted Charlotte briskly on the back. “You are tired. Go to bed.” Orders she would gladly follow.
“I’m going to sleep in here with Ethan. We’re not married, but I want to be here if he needs me.” Exhaustion pulled at her limbs and numbed her mind. She had a slim grip on her own consciousness.
Charlotte crawled onto the bed and under the covers next to Ethan. She scooted over until she felt his warmth at her back. Pulling her knees to her chest she rolled into a familiar ball. In the distance, she heard a door shut before she plummeted into sleep.
“Good morning, señorita.” A young woman bearing a tray of chocolate, scrambled eggs, hot sausage and another flat piece of bread brought Charlotte back to the world. She rolled over, pushed herself up on her arms, and peered at Ethan. No change. His body lay flat and straight, his head nestled into a pillow, his arms resting by his sides, but Ethan was gone. His spirit had fled his frame leaving behind this beautiful hulk.
Tears rolled down her face and were well on the way to soaking a large section of Ethan’s shirt when the door opened and Señora Murray bustled to the bedside.
“You must stop that crying and eat your breakfast.”
Charlotte jerked her head up to see the source of this sharp scolding. “But, Ethan,” she whined.
“Maria and I will feed Ethan while you eat. Then we must talk.” She pointed at the small table where her breakfast tray sat waiting.
If she had been on the way to the gallows, her steps would not have been more reluctant. But Esperanza’s imperious finger remained fixed on the tray.
Charlotte picked up the flat bread. “What is this?”
“It’s a tortilla. You can eat it as it is or wrap it around your eggs, or well, most anything. I’ll show you later. Now eat.” Esperanza turned away from Charlotte and studied Ethan.
Charlotte tore off a piece of tortilla, placed it in her mouth and chewed. It was warm and soft and delicious. She tore off another piece as she observed Esperanza and Maria. The women placed three pillows behind Ethan so his upper body lay slanted. Maria held the bowl, and Esperanza teased his mouth open with a spoon and tipped the broth down his throat. She wiped any escaping liquid with a cloth held beneath his chin. Charlotte saw Ethan’s throat work as he swallowed. All the while, Esperanza spoke to Ethan in a soothing voice too low for Charlotte to hear. When she finished feeding Ethan, they removed the pillows, rolled him onto his uninjured side, and placed them behind his back for support.
Esperanza stood from her task and addressed the form on the bed. “There. You will be more comfortable if we change your position every now and then. I will leave you for now, my friend. I need to speak with Charlotte.” She gave his hand a brisk pat, but it held kindness and concern.
“Will you join me on the balcony?” Before Charlotte could answer, Esperanza had disappeared through the large doors.
Water splashing on the tiled courtyard below soothed and brought relief from the heat that was building as the sun rose higher in the sky. Large pots and hanging baskets overflowing with colorful flowers made a bright oasis of the balcony. Esperanza motioned toward a chair and Charlotte sank into the comfort of plump cushions.
“I hope you slept well,” Esperanza said.
“Yes, thank you,” Charlotte waited.
“Does Sheriff Ford have a special name for you?”
Charlotte closed her eyes and tipped her head back. Several moments passed before she spoke. “Sometimes, he calls me little girl.” She blushed at the memory of his deep voice calling her his ‘little girl.’ He could be annoyed, angry, amused, but always loving. Always.
“My husband called me mi tigre, my tiger.” She patted her crown of braids with her right hand. “I didn’t know if I was a tiger. I didn’t feel like one, but I think he was referring to bedroom matters. When James died, he left the ranch to me. Since we were not blessed with children, this made sense. Right away men came calling. They wanted to marry me. Oh, they said sweet things, but I knew they were more interested in the ranch James had worked so hard to build than me. I couldn’t turn it over to another man who would ignore me and run the ranch as it suited him. I thought it would erase James, and I couldn’t bear that. People said I was foolish to try to run the ranch myself. They said men wouldn’t take orders from a woman. They said I would fail, so I became that tiger. I became fierce. If there was a man on the ranch who could not take orders from a woman, I fired him. Men and woman who work for me are paid well, fed well, and they live well. They make peace with the lady boss or they leave.” Her dark eyes burned into Charlotte. “You are probably wondering why I am telling you this.”
Charlotte nodded her confusion.
“When I left the room last night, you looked like Ethan’s little girl.”
“Oh, well…” Charlotte began.
Esperanza waved a hand in dismissal. “There are many ways to love, and I believe all of them are good. Ethan must enjoy your trust in him, and you must enjoy surrendering to his power, his leadership.”
Charlotte closed her eyes and considered. Esperanza was right. She loved giving herself i
nto Ethan’s keeping.
Esperanza cleared her throat, and Charlotte’s head snapped up. “When Ethan returns and is strong, you can be his little girl again. I am sure he will insist on it. But, my friend, until that time, you must be a tigre. Ethan needs you to care for him, take the lead and help him back. Can you do that? Can you be his tigre?”
A single tear trailed over Charlotte’s cheek and soaked into the bosom of her borrowed nightgown. She rubbed at her eye and brushed the moisture from her breast before she straightened her spine and looked Esperanza straight in the eye.
Charlotte said, “I believe we should try to feed Ethan some thin gruel. He is a big man and used to consuming large meals. Broth won’t really sustain him.” Charlotte left the balcony and moved to Ethan’s side.
Esperanza followed. “Brava, mi tigre. I will talk to the cook, and I will find clothes for you.”
Charlotte poured water from the pitcher onto a cloth and washed Ethan’s face. “Ethan,” she spoke as she continued in her task, “you were shot and hit your head, but my father’s men have been taken care of. One is in jail, and one is dead. We are staying with friends. Thanks to you, I am fine and safe. I am here and waiting for you to return to me.” She rinsed the cloth and ran it across his forehead, over his cheeks and under his chin. “I wonder if Esperanza knows someone who can shave you.” She giggled. “I might slit your throat and that, my love, would not aid in your healing.”
Esperanza returned with a bowl of gruel and clothes for Charlotte. The two women fed Ethan being sure he swallowed and his throat was clear before offering him another spoonful. All the while they chatted, including the silent man in conversation.
“Go dress, I’ll shave Ethan. I have James’s razor. I did this for him when he was ill.” She took a brush and swirled it around in a shaving mug.
“All right. Thank you, Esperanza. I think I’ll find a book to read to Ethan if you don’t mind.” Charlotte held up a tiered skirt and gave it a shake.
“Of course. Check in the library.” Esperanza turned toward the bed. “Time for a shave, Ethan. You will feel better.” She placed a hot towel on his lower face. “Go on.” She flicked her fingers at Charlotte and smiled.
Once in her room, Charlotte found a variety of garments spread on the bed. Colors vibrant and alive permeated the garments. Embroidered flowers, leaves and vines in vivid greens, blues and reds embellished a simple dress of off white muslin. A wide belt of matching fabric was folded on the dress. She dropped the garment over her head and wrapped the belt around her middle securing it with a knot. Never, never in her life had she worn a dress this loose, this comfortable, this unstructured. A tigre dress—that’s what it was. Someone strong and sure would strut their way through life in a dress such as this.
Slipping her feet in the light sandals left by the door, Charlotte headed toward the library. Like most rooms in the house, this room had large doors that opened onto the central patio and the sound of the fountain and its splashing water cooled the air. Bookcases lined the entire wall on the right side of the room. Opposite the books, a large stone fireplace spoke of winter evenings curled up with a book. Two large leather chairs occupied places of pride on either side of the hearth, and a table sat between them with a chess game lined up and waiting for the first move.
Charlotte trailed her fingers along the spines of the books. Reading had been one of her few escapes in the years she was confined in her father’s house, and she loved the written word. The library was well organized, and she passed books on science, history, biology and the law before finding what she sought—novels. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn caught her eye. She had asked her father for this book, but he hadn’t purchased it for her. She pulled it from the shelf and tucked it under her arm.
Charlotte entered Ethan’s room as Esperanza wiped the last of the shaving soap from his chin. “I found a book. It’s about two runaways. It’s perfect.”
“You look lovely in that Mexican dress, Charlotte.”
Esperanza’s compliment warmed Charlotte. “Thank you. It is so comfortable. My clothes have always been confining and heavy.” Charlotte gave Esperanza a long look. “How did you come to live in Texas?”
“James came to my father’s ranch in Mexico to buy cattle.” Esperanza gazed at the blue sky through the open doors. “When he returned to Texas, he had the cattle and a seventeen-year-old bride perched in front of him on his horse.” She gave her skirt a brisk pat. “We had quite a time –—work and love, love and work.” She cleared her throat before heading for the door. “I’ll be back with more gruel at noon.”
Charlotte pulled a chair close to Ethan’s bed. “My, my, you look handsome, Sheriff Ford.” She fussed with his blankets and arranged his arms down at his sides. “I brought us a book to pass the time. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain. I hope you haven’t read it. It was published in 1885.”
She watched for a sign, a flicker, a twitch, anything to indicate Ethan could hear her, but he lay impassive and still.
Charlotte straightened her spine and began to read. “‘You don’t know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain’t no matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth.’” She giggled before lifting the book to continue. The hours passed as Huck and Jim floated down the mighty Mississippi, on the run from society in general and Huck’s father in particular.
The day passed in feeding and caring for Ethan, chatting about whatever took her fancy and reading. That night when Charlotte slid under the covers, she did not curl up like a small child. She lay straight and strong, a tigre.
Two more days, two more nights, and Ethan remained absent from his body. The doctor came, shook his head, and departed. Despair licked at her heels and doubt cast its dark shadow. Charlotte would not give up on Ethan. In her heart, she knew that if the tables were turned, Ethan would remain vigilant and determined to drag her back to the world. She would not be faint of heart. She would not.
Charlotte dozed in her chair on the third day, the novel lying open in her lap. A voice creaky with disuse jolted her awake.
“I’m hungry, Charlotte.” It was a lovely, beautiful croak.
She laid her body across his chest while Ethan lay a weak arm over her back. “Ethan,” she spoke his name like prayer.
“I’m hungry,” he repeated. “No more of that gruel either. Bring me real food.” He lifted his head but soon closed his eyes and lay back. “Lord, I’m dizzy.”
“You’ve been unconscious for three days,” Charlotte told him.
“Three days?” Ethan tried to raise his head a second time before lowering it back to the pillow.
“Please stay still,” Charlotte pleaded. “You have a concussion. The doctor said you might be dizzy and even sick to your stomach if you woke.” She pulled her eyebrows together at those words. “When you woke,” she amended. “It shouldn’t last more than a week.”
“Where are we?” Ethan kept his head still.
“Esperanza Murray’s ranch. She is the one who sent the men who helped us when my father’s hired trackers attacked us. She knows my mother and step-father.” Charlotte swallowed her threatening tears.
Esperanza whisked into the room a bowl of gruel in her hand. “Sheriff Ford,” her voice held a smile, “you have returned.”
Ethan grimaced at the bowl. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but if that’s gruel, I can’t swallow it.”
“Bueno.” In a whirl of skirt Esperanza swept from the room calling as she went, “I’ll find something more appetizing.”
“Did you hear us talking to you?” Charlotte asked.
“It was like I was under water. I heard voices and felt your presence, but it seemed far away.” He pursed his lips. “I knew you read. Your voice floated just above me.” He lifted his shoulders from the bed in tiny shrug but winced at the pain. “What’s wrong with my
shoulder?”
“You were shot in the fight, and then you fell and hit your head. Caleb, one of the men Esperanza sent to help us, pulled you out of the river.” Tears threatened, and she swallowed them back. “I’ve never been so frightened. You sank like a stone.”
“I remember the fight. What happened to your father’s men?”
“One is in jail, and the other drowned. I don’t know, but there could be others still looking for me.” Charlotte sighed her unhappiness. “My father is a very determined man.”
Esperanza appeared at the door. “You’re right, Charlotte. Your mother has long feared him. Joaquin guards her. She never crosses to the American side of the river where your father could make legal claim to her as his wife.” She graced them with a bright smile. “But you are safe in my home. The cook is preparing Ethan’s breakfast.”
“How soon can I take Charlotte to her mother?” Ethan rubbed his aching shoulder with his free hand. “She’s waited long enough.”
“You are in no shape to sit a horse, my friend.” Esperanza raised a hand to forestall the reply she saw building behind his eyes. “The doctor will come this afternoon. If he says you are fit to travel, you can leave tomorrow. We can make a bed in the back of a wagon where you can rest until you are no longer dizzy. I will send men to guard you on the way.”
“Thank you, Esperanza. Without your help, Ethan might be dead, and I would be a prisoner of my father’s once again. I don’t know how we can ever repay you.” Charlotte took the other woman’s hand in her own.
“Nonsense, it was my pleasure. When my James died, your parents helped me. Joaquin left your mother in Mexico and ran the ranch while I was raging in grief. Then he taught me how to run the place on my own and helped me hire hands who would work for me and fire those that couldn’t. He stayed until I could manage on my own.” She squeezed Charlotte’s hand. “I would do anything for them or their family.”
“Let’s get Ethan propped up before the food arrives.” Charlotte gave Ethan an appraising look.
Treasured: Lonestar Love, Book Two Page 14