"Do you know where Salathiel hailed from?"
"He was from Alabama. Barbour County, best I recall. His wife was from Sparta, South Carolina. Dorinda. Dorinda McLaren. Want to guess who I was named for?"
Ellie jerked upright in her seat. Ignoring the playful question she fired one of her own.
"Your kin came from Sparta?"
Dome's eyes twinkled. "Didn't I just say so, missy? I'll admit I'm getting a mite forgetful these days, but I can pretty well remember the words that just popped out of my mouth."
"Yes, of course. I'm sorry. It's just that... Well, William Barrett Travis, the commander of the troops at the Alamo, moved to Texas from Sparta, South Carolina, too."
"You don't say!"
Carefully placing her iced tea on a coaster, Ellie scooted to the edge of her seat.
"Historical documents indicate Travis arrived at the Alamo armed with a double-barreled shotgun, among other weapons. There's one on display up there in San Antonio bearing a mark that traces to a gunsmith in Sparta. I found another buried in a creek bed some miles south of the city with the same mark. We're trying to determine who that gun belonged to."
"Don't know that I can help you there, missy. Seems I remember great-granddaddy talkin' about a shotgun his daddy carried west with him. Could have been made by that gunsmith you're talking about, but I don't know what happened to it."
"Could he have given it to his brother, Josiah, to take with him when he joined the Texas Army?''
"I 'spose so."
"Maybe there's something in those letters you told me about that will give us more information," Ellie hinted.
"Maybe," Dorrie said doubtfully. "You're welcome to crawl up to the attic and take a look."
The tin roof trapped the heat and held it under the eaves. Dust motes danced and swirled in the hazy light cast by the bulb dangling at the end of a long cord.
Switching on the flashlight Dorrie had provided for extra illumination, Ellie stepped over bundles of old National Geographies and stacks of yellowed sheet music. A zigzagging course through the treasured junk of several generations took her to the steamer trunk pushed under the eaves. Leather peeled in strips from its sides and humped top. The rusted hasps were sprung and hung uselessly on then; hinges. Grunting, Jack used his good arm and worked it out far enough for Ellie to raise the bd.
She gasped in delight. He swiped at a trickle of sweat and groaned.
"It's going to take hours to go through all this stuff."
"It might take you hours," she retorted, the historian in her affronted by his lack of faith in her abilities. "I know what I'm looking for. Just pull up that crate, get comfortable and hold the flashlight steady."
Jack did as ordered. Hunkering on the sturdy crate, he planted his elbows on his knees and armed the beam of light at the yellowed letters, old newspaper cuttings and faded family photos.
Her still tender knees made kneeling impossible, so Ellie sat cross-legged beside the trunk. Despite the bulky bandages on her hands, or maybe because of them, she handled the clippings and documents with extreme care. She skimmed each with a keen eye before setting it aside. Inch by inch, the stack beside her grew.
Jack found the woman digging through the trunk far more intriguing than its contents. She probably didn't have any idea how beautiful she looked to him at this moment. Dust swirled around her. Sweat glistened on her forehead and upper lip. White streaked her hair where she'd caught a cobweb. She was totally absorbed by those yellowed scraps of paper, as thrilled by the past as Jack was nervous about the future.
He'd dropped enough hints. Hell, he'd come right out and admitted that he'd never been able to get her out of his head or his heart. He'd had to work to say the words. He'd never told any woman he loved her, Ellie included.
He was pretty sure she loved him, too. She'd told him flat out she wasn't walking away from him. And she certainly held nothing back the night she'd flamed in his arms. Yet Jack wanted to hear the words. Needed to hear the words.
"Ellie."
"Hmm?"
"Last night..."
She glanced up then, curiosity warring with impatience to get back to the letter in her hand.
"What about last night?"
"I meant what I said. I've never stopped loving you."
The words hung on the suffocating air. Chewing on her lower lip, Ellie considered his quiet declaration.
"Last night," she said after a long moment, "I believed you. For a moment this morning, I had my doubts."
"I know. I saw the hurt in your eyes when Lightning brought up that business about the treaty. You have to know politics have nothing to do with what's between us."
"To quote your friend Lightning, political issues are always in play. They certainly were nine years ago."
"But not this time. Marry me, Ellie."
"What?"
"You said it yourself. We've wasted too many days and nights already. Marry me. Here in Texas, or in New Mexico or wherever we can get a license with the least hassle and delay."
Helplessly, Ellie gaped at him. Sweat trickled down his temples. With the flashlight's beam back-lighting his face, he looked like a character from a B-grade horror flick. She couldn't believe the man had chosen this hot, musty attic to ask for the commitment she'd ached to give him nine years ago, but she wasn't going to argue the time or the place. As she'd told Jack, she knew her mind then and she knew it now.
"Yes," she said simply. "I'll marry you. Whenever and wherever you want."
With a small, inarticulate sound, he bent to seal the agreement. The kiss left them both breathless and several degrees hotter than before.
"Better finish with that trunk," he warned with a crooked grin, "or Miss Dorinda might hear some strange thumps coming from her attic."
Chapter 14
Ellie found the prize she'd been searching for near the bottom of the trunk, tucked inside an old Bible. The yellowed, folded sheet had torn at the creases and almost came apart in her hands. Carefully lifting the bottom edge, she took one look at the signature and gulped.
"Here." Her hands clumsy and trembling in their gauze wrappings, she passed the letter to Jack. "I don't want to take a chance on tearing this further. Unfold it, will you, and hold it so I can read it"
Trading the letter for the flashlight, he lifted the folds and tilted the letter toward the beam. Ellie came up on her knees without so much as a blink at the pain and leaned on Jack's thigh. Her heart thumping, she peered at the spidery script.
March 5th
1836
Elijah—
I don't have time for more than a few lines. The colonel's sending me & another out shortly. God willing, one of us will make it through & bring back reinforcements. If there are none to be had, I'll rejoin my company here at the Alamo.
Ammunition's running low, but I still have enough for pa's short-barrel to give a good accounting. She fires as true as the colonel's. Guess she should, seeing as the same smith cast both.
They're calling for me now. I'll leave this letter with the captain's wife, as many of the company are doing. She's promised to see them delivered if she survives the attack we all know is coming.
Yr brother,
Josiah Kennett
Private
Texas Volunteers
Ellie's throat ached at the letter's simple poignancy. The satisfaction of knowing she'd found the last vital piece of the puzzle didn't begin to compare with the admiration she felt for Kennett's courage and sense of duty.
"James Allen made it to Goliad," she murmured, leaning against Jack's knee, "but Fannin delayed sending troops until it was too late. I wonder where Josiah was headed."
"Guess we'll never know." Carefully, he folded the letter. "Do you think Dorrie will agree to contribute this to the collection at the Alamo?"
"I hope so!"
Dorrie not only agreed to let Ellie take the letter, she also cheerfully provided a DNA sample. After rolling a cotton
swab around in her mouth, she stared at the tip for a moment before dropping it into a plastic baggie.
"You sure that's all you need?"
"If that doesn't do it, we know where to find you."
Ignoring Ellie's protests, Dorrie thumped out to the porch to see them off. "Y'all come back any time."
"You promise to bake more of these and we will," Jack said, carrying the bag of molasses cookies the older woman had pressed on him with the same care Ellie carried her bagged letter and DNA sample.
Ellie occupied the hour's drive to San Antonio plotting how best to rush through a DNA test. Jack expressed far more interest in obtaining the blood test required for a marriage license.
He solved the first problem by swinging by the federal courthouse. Tracking down the two FBI agents he and Mackenzie had met with the previous day, he traded an update on the Foster situation for a promise to strong-arm their lab into an overnight DNA analysis.
He took care of second problem with a stop at the emergency room where Ellie's cuts had been treated two days ago. Her eyes widened when he pulled into the lot.
"Jack! You were serious? You really want to get married right away?"
"This afternoon, if we can talk the doc into doing the blood work and track down a judge to waive the three day waiting requirement. Why? Are you having second thoughts?"
"No! But my mother, my aunt and uncle... They'll be crushed if we don't invite them."
Jack gave her a wry look. "Your uncle Eduardo, huh?"
"Uncle Eduardo," Ellie said firmly. "He might not be able to rearrange his schedule and fly up here on short notice, but for all his overbearing ways, he's been as much a father to me as an uncle. I have to invite him. And, well..."
She fiddled with the plastic bag holding Josiah Kennett's precious letter. The mere thought of joining her life with Jack's sent excited anticipation racing through her veins. After so many years, so many hurts, the future held all the promise their past had cut short.
Ellie didn't want anything to spoil their day. Anything.
"Let's think about this waiting period. If we work things right in the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours, we can go off on a nice, long honeymoon with no loose ends left dangling."
"Like Josiah Kennett," he said with a smile.
"And Daniel Foster."
Jack kept the smile on his face, but it took some doing. At this point he couldn't say how much, if any, of his urgent need to make Ellie his stemmed from an instinctive, gut-deep desire to give her every protection a man can give his woman. All he knew was that he didn't like the idea of Ellie going head-to-head with Foster. At all!
From all indications, the bastard had arranged the murder of one woman. If pushed to the wall, he might take matters into his own hands. The man was big enough, ruthless enough, desperate enough to pub the trigger if he thought he could get away with it.
Jack would just have to make sure Foster knew he couldn't get away with it.
"All right," he conceded. "We take care of the loose ends, then we get married."
After that, it seemed to Ellie as though events moved with the speed of light.
Anticipating a wedding, preparing a public announcement of a major historical find and rehearsing responses to several different scenarios involving Dan Foster took up the rest of that evening and most of the next day.
RSVPs came pouring in. All the local TV and radio stations were sending crews. The mayor and most of the city council intended to make an appearance. Almost every local member of the Alamo Restoration and Preservation Foundation accepted—including Daniel Foster.
As it turned out, Mackenzie didn't have to place a second call to Foster and inveigle an invitation to be his date. He called her. Listening to the tape of their brief conversation gave Ellie a distinctly queasy sensation. If the man was driven by anything more than a desire to show up with a gorgeous female draped over his arm, he hid it well.
Gorgeous, he'd certainly get. Mackenzie had made good on her promise to do some serious shopping. The midnight blue sheath she displayed to Ellie dipped dangerously low in the front, even lower in back.
Claire, too, had found the perfect gown to complement her silvery blond beauty. The shimmering turquoise silk was strapless, banded with silver sequins at the bodice and slit up one side. Ellie had no idea how the woman would hide anything, much less her neat little revolver, under that whisper of silk. Smiling, Claire admitted that a holster strapped to the inside of her thigh made gliding across a room an exercise in extreme care.
Forcefully reminded of her woefully inadequate wardrobe, Ellie coerced the two women into a return trip to the elegant little boutique they'd discovered in River Center mall. Those sixty minutes turned out to be among the most expensive of Ellie's life. She ended up purchasing not only a gown for the reception that night, but a cream-colored sine suit perfect for a wedding, a flame-colored chiffon nightdress that clung to her every curve and lacy underwear designed more for seduction than for comfort.
Mackenzie took one look at the scraps of lace and promptly bought two pair for herself. Even Claire was convinced to splurge on the outrageously extravagant panties.
"Now I really won't be able to walk straight," she said with a rueful smile.
"Maybe not," Mackenzie returned with a grin, "but you'll sure have the colonel wondering why. You notice he hasn't taken his eyes off you since he arrived?"
"As a matter of fact," the psychologist replied serenely, "I have."
The happy saleswoman was ringing up their purchases when a cell phone rang. All four women checked their phones. Ellie flipped hers open.
"Dr. Alazar. Yes, I can hold."
Gnawing on her lower lip, she waited for Janet Dawes-Hamilton to come on the line.
"Ellie?"
"Yes."
"As you requested, the FBI sent me the results of the DNA profile their lab worked up for you. I just ran it against the samples we took from the skeletal remains."
"And?"
"We have a match, girl!"
Whooping, Ellie danced around her startled companions.
The shopping expedition and thrilling report from her colleague succeeded in holding Ellie's nervousness at bay for an all-too-brief hour. It came rushing back when the three women returned to the hotel and got caught up in the flurry of last-minute preparations for the function that night.
Jack insisted Ellie rehearse a variety of different responses for if and when she confronted Foster. The responses ranged from merely smiling and letting Foster do all the talking to dropping facedown on the floor if his hand moved so much as an inch toward his tux or pants pocket. After the third or fourth drop, she was a bundle of raw nerves. Pleading the need to review her speech a final time before dressing, she escaped to her bedroom.
Jack knocked on the connecting door at the time they'd set as the time to leave the hotel. Ellie had just finished putting the final touches to her makeup. Thankfully, the cuts on her palms had healed enough for her to leave off the bandages. A light application of pancake makeup muted most of the scabs. Fighting a panicky flutter of nerves, she tucked a stray curl into the feathery cluster on top of her head and opened the door.
"Oh, my!"
Nine years ago, she'd taken one look at a tall, broad-shouldered Marine in his dress blues and immediately decided to wrangle an introduction and a dance. When Jack had arrived at the Menger, his rugged informality had at first surprised her, then stirred her senses.
This Jack rocked her on her heels.
His tux might have been cut by the hand of a master. The black broadcloth showcased his broad shoulders. Silver studs winked at the front of his snowy white shirt. A satin cummerbund nipped in his trim waist, and a matching satin stripe ran down the outside of his pants legs. What struck Ellie even more than the elegance of the formal attire was the casual ease with which he wore it.
"Where did you get a tux to fit you on such short notice?" she asked when she
recovered her breath.
"Nick had it delivered. Compliments of the same tailor who rigs out his waiters."
If Nick Jensen's employees waited tables in handtailored tuxes like this one, it was no wonder dinner at one of his glitzy watering holes reputedly cost more than the down payment on a four-bedroom house.
"You look incredible," Ellie murmured.
"I look incredible?"
Jack's glance made a slow journey down her length. Just as slowly, he brought his glinting gaze to hers.
"You're going to have every man in the room tonight wishing they could go back to school and take more history courses."
Ellie had to admit the slinky silver lame gown was about as far from academia as anything could get. The plunging halter top left her shoulders and back bare, while the pencil-slim skirt clung to her hips and glittered with every step. Paired with the silver bracelet Jack had given her nine years ago and dangly silver earrings, the effect was pure Hollywood.
If she'd had more time to deliberate and less on her mind, she might have chosen something more restrained, more dignified. The gleam in Jack's eyes made her glad she hadn't.
"I have something I want you to wear tonight," Jack said. Sliding his hand into his pocket, he produced what looked like a thin transparent patch.
"What is it?"
"A wireless transmitter, compliments of Mackenzie."
His knuckles warm on the slope of her breast, he stuck the tiny device to the inside folds of the halter top.
"Don't take this off tonight. For any reason."
"I won't."
He hesitated a moment, his fingers lingering on her warm skin before reaching into his pocket once more. This time he produced a little box bearing the logo of the jewelry shop just off the Menger's lobby.
"I was going to wait and let you pick out the ring you wanted, but I saw this downstairs and thought it would match your bracelet."
"Oh, Jack! It's beautiful!"
The diamonds were channel cut and set flush in a narrow platinum engagement ring. A wider wedding ring of beaten platinum nestled in the black velvet below the diamonds. Leaving the wider band in place, he popped the box shut and slipped the diamonds on her finger.
Texas Hero Page 15