Comanche Cowboy (The Durango Family)

by Georgina Gentry

  Lynnie cleared her throat importantly. Joe knew she was proud of her new learning. “You want I should read you what Cee Cee says?”

  Joe felt cold apprehension run up his back. “Oh, Lynnie, you didn’t write and tell her about Slade, did you?”

  She fidgeted a moment in the silence. “Well, yes, Papa, I did. I overheard you talking to those so-called friends of yours and didn’t know what to do, so I wrote Sister and told her to come home.”

  “Lynnie, I wished you hadn’t done that; no use worrying her. Besides, you’re mistaken; these are old friends and they’re welcome to stay and visit awhile.” He prayed silently that God would overlook his lying since it was for a good cause. Lynnie might be in danger if she knew too much.

  “Cee Cee always knows what to do, Papa,” her voice was apologetic. “I know you say they’re your friends, but I think they’re up to something bad. I overheard them in the barn talkin’ about an army payroll.”

  He put his arm around her thin shoulders. “Oh, Bill and the boys are just blowhards; don’t mean anything. You know what Texans say, ’All hat and no cattle.’ Probably nothin’ to it.”

  His mouth went suddenly dry. An army payroll. Now why would an army payroll come through a sleepy village like this one? Town gossip at church on Sundays was full of all the troop movements and the Red River Uprising. “So read me your sister’s letter,” he said lightly.

  Dear Lynnie. You’ll be glad to know I’ve found the man I’ve been looking for. Yes, it’s wedding bells for your big sister and Papa will have that son he always wanted. Isn’t it exciting? My love’s tall and dark with a scar down one cheek like a romantic dueling scar! And he rides a big gray stallion. I know you like horses so much! Must get this in the mail. Be home in a few weeks to make plans. Don’t try to do anything ’til I get there. I intend to take care of everything. Love from me and my intended, Cee Cee.

  Maverick Durango. Joe felt as if he’d suddenly been splashed with ice water. No, maybe he was jumpin’ to conclusions. There was lots of tall, dark men out there for his daughter to meet. He tried to convince himself a long moment, but his inner voice said, But how many of them have a scar down one cheek and ride a big gray horse? No, his innocent daughter could only be describing Maverick.

  Joe had met old Don Diego de Durango last year at the Cattleman’s Association meeting when the old man had come over to congratulate him on his expert shooting, on winning the fine Winchester rifle. When he’d found out Joe’s name, that aristocratic old man had hesitated a long moment and finally told him there was something they must discuss.

  Lynnie twisted on the seat. “Is something the matter, Papa? You look sick. Are you all right?”

  “Just a little too much sun, I reckon.” He felt in his pocket with a trembling hand for a bandana and wiped his perspiring face. “Lynnie, I—I think I need to send a wire to Cee Cee.”

  “A wire!” Her voice was shocked. “Papa, that costs a lot of money!”

  “I know, I know,” he nodded. “But it’s important that it get there fast.”

  It was probably already too late, he thought with a sinking heart. “What’s the date on that letter?”

  “No date, Papa.”

  Maybe there was just an outside chance Cee Cee hadn’t yet left Wichita. “Lynnie, I’ll sit right here so as not to arouse Trask’s suspicions in case he comes out of the saloon. I’m the one they’re watchin’ anyhow.”

  He wondered if Lynnie realized how the three always kept some of the children as hostages just in case Joe wasn’t afraid of blackmail? The blackmail was enough, Lord help him! His reputation in this town meant too much to Joe to have the outlaws tell his secret past.

  He reached for some coins and held them out to her. “Mind you make sure Trask don’t see you.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  How could he word it to warn Cee Cee but not alarm Lynnie? He could trust old Mr. Faine at the telegraph not to breathe a word or ask any questions. His wife had been one of those Joe had ransomed.

  “Get Mr. Faine to send this wire fast as greased lightning. “Dear Daughter. Stay in Wichita until Indian troubles over. Stop. Don’t bring that man here and tell him nothing. Stop. Will explain later. Stop. Love, Papa.”

  “Why don’t you want him here? Why, Papa? It sounds like Cee Cee intends to marry him.”

  Marry him. How could his innocent daughter know that Maverick Durango intended to kill Joe McBride? But he knew. The old Don had warned him. Annie Laurie’s son was finally coming for his revenge.

  “Why? Because it’s dangerous with all those Indians on the warpath,” he said truthfully. Joe thrust the silver into Lynnie’s hands. “Now, go along and do as I ask, honey, and then let’s not tell anyone about this letter.” He reached out, took it from her hand, and stuffed it in his coat pocket.

  “But, Papa, why—?”

  “Just do it, Lynnie,” he snapped, and was immediately sorry. He had never raised his voice to his precious daughters much less his hand as Hannah had done. But he was so afraid, not for himself but for his children. What would happen to them if Annie Laurie’s vengeful son killed Joe and left his daughters orphaned?

  “Let’s say I favor another young man for your sister.”

  “Ohhh,” Lynnie said with mature understanding. “That Jones boy at church, or—?”

  “I’ll discuss that with your sister when she finally gets home,” he said. “Now take care of it for me before Trask comes out of that saloon.”

  Lynnie’s little shoes fairly flew down the boardwalk. Joe sighed, rubbing his bearded face on his sleeve, listening to her footsteps fading toward the telegraph office. He could count on kindly old Mr. Faine to be discreet and not gossip about the wire he’d sent.

  Joe felt suddenly like Job being tested by God with mounting troubles. Didn’t he have enough problems trying to protect his family, this town, and his own spotless reputation without Maverick Durango suddenly showing up to extract his pound of flesh?

  Annie Laurie. Joe’s beloved first wife. Maverick Durango’s mother by some savage Comanche warrior. It didn’t seem quite fair that Joe hadn’t sired Annie’s son. They’d had such plans, such dreams together. And Joe had no son at all to pass that fancy rifle on down to. Ironic how things turned out. He shook his head, thinking. If things had been different, Maverick and Cee Cee might have been brother and sister, as it was, they were no kin at all. For a moment, he wondered what the angry young man looked like. Maverick probably had Annie’s eyes. Did he also have that rare smile that lit up her face like a Texas sunrise?

  His hand went to the crumpled letter in his pocket, remembering Don Durango’s description. Half Comanche with eyes as gray as a gun barrel, riding a ghost gray stallion.

  . . . and I looked up and beheld a pale horse and his name that sat upon him was Death and hell followed with him.

  Revelations, chapter 6, verse 8, Joe remembered. His other hand went to another coat pocket and found the comfort of the worn Bible he always kept close at hand. He knew nearly every word of it by heart, even though he’d never been able to read well so he could still preach to his small congregation on Sundays. Well, nothing happened without a reason, and who was Joe McBride to question the Lord’s mysterious ways?

  Maybe he was apprehensive for nothing, Joe thought, still clutching the Bible. Maybe the man Cee Cee had described and the description Don Durango had given him were not the same man. No, it had to be. He felt it deep in his soul. If his wire reached his daughter in time, maybe she would lose the young man instead of leading the would-be killer to the Lazy M Ranch. It would be a while before he knew, and in the meantime, what was he going to do about his old outlaw partner, Bill Slade?

  He buried his face in his hands. Nothing. That’s what he was going to do. Nothing. Maybe the trio would just finally ride out and move on. It was obvious they were on the run from the law. If only the tiny town had a real sheriff. But the sleepy village had never needed one before. If Joe told anyo
ne in town, there might be some shooting and some innocent townspeople would get killed. And he couldn’t send for the marshal without his own outlaw past coming out. He was just human and weak enough to enjoy being a hero, enjoy the regard and respect this town held for him. And even after twenty-five years, wouldn’t the law still want to hang someone for killing that bank clerk in St. Joe, even though Joe hadn’t pulled the trigger?

  The sound of feet running on the boardwalk made him jerk up, and Lynnie piled into the buggy, breathless. “I took care of it, Papa. Mr. Faine says the lines are down half the time because of the Indian troubles, but they’re working right now and he’ll get that message to Wichita.”

  “Good girl.” He put the Bible back in his pocket and patted her thin shoulder. “Now, Lynnie, let’s keep this quiet and everything you overheard, too. Obviously, Bill and the boys was just carryin’ you high, you know, makin’ jokes because they knew you was listenin’. They’re just good ol’ boys.”

  “If you say so, Papa.” She sounded doubtful. But he knew his children trusted and believed in him just as this town did. Even in his prime, before he was tortured, Joe would have hesitated to try to go up against those three fast guns with his rifle, and now . . .

  No, he wouldn’t do anything to endanger his reputation, his family, or the gentle townspeople.

  “Lynnie,” he said, “do you think Papa would have friends that weren’t fine, honest people?”

  “Well, no, Papa, but they seem pretty rough.”

  She was a smart one for her age. He wished again he had the money to send her to some fancy school. Still, he didn’t regret the fact that he had bankrupted himself to get the money to ransom the captives.

  “You can’t always tell about people from their looks, Lynnie. Deep in their hearts, Slade and the boys aren’t all that bad.”

  No, they were worse. God forgive me for hiding the truth, Joe thought.

  The seat creaked as Lynnie leaned out of the buggy. “Here comes Trask.”

  “Remember, don’t discuss this,” Joe cautioned.

  “I won’t, Papa.”

  Trask still had that bad leg from that St. Joe sheriff who had interrupted the robbery, Joe thought. He didn’t turn his head, listening to the heavy man drag his foot a little as he crossed the boardwalk behind the buggy, came around, and got in. “Well, Joe, hope you didn’t mind settin’ in the sun while I had a few drinks,” Trask laughed.

  “From the smell of you, I’d say you had more’n a few,” Joe said before he thought. He needed to pray over his Scots-Irish temper, he thought.

  Trask belched and laughed good-naturedly. “Little girl, you get the supplies we came for?”

  “I did,” Lynnie said pointedly. “And if you didn’t eat so much, we wouldn’t keep running out of flour and stuff.”

  “Lynnie,” Joe scolded, “that’s not polite!”

  “I’m sorry,” the child said contritely. “Reckon I need to pray about my sharp tongue.”

  Trask laughed again as he snapped the reins over the old mule and the buggy moved down the dusty, uneven street. “This is the prayingest family I ever met! Sometime, Sis, remind me to tell you what your pappy was like afore he got religion.”

  “Don’t, Trask,” Joe said with a warning edge to his voice. Would his little girls still idolize him if they knew he’d once been part of this gang for a brief time? That a bank teller had been killed in the escape when that sheriff showed up unexpectedly?

  Trask shrugged, brushing against him in the crowded buggy seat. “Suit yourself. We’ll probably be moving on in a few more days, Sis, and old Rosita won’t have to cook no more for us. Never thought old Joe’d end up as a part-time preacher with a houseful of little girls. Every man ought to have a son.”

  A son. What was it Annie Laurie had said to him? A son, Joe. Every man ought to have a son. Someday, God willin’, I’ll give you mine.

  And now Annie’s son by some savage warrior was on his trail. Well, that was in the hands of God, wasn’t it? And nobody knew what the future held.

  He and Annie sure hadn’t known when they’d left Kentucky together, newly married, with big dreams about someday owning a big spread in Texas.

  They’d thought they had the world by the tail back then, so young, so full of dreams and hope. Joe’s mind went to the day he had seen her last, made love to her in the afternoon in that squalid little sod hut on the worthless few acres.

  He rolled over and watched her, resting his chin on his hand. “I ought to be out plowin’,” he said, but made no move to go.

  “Plow later.” She looked into his eyes and smiled. Why was it everyone thought the gentle girl so plain? When she smiled, she was beautiful the way her face lit up, the tiny crinkles around her wide gray eyes. “The crop’s not doin’ too good anyways.”

  He didn’t want to think about how poor the land was, how they’d been cheated by banker Ogle as to how rich the soil was. When he’d sold them the spread, Ogle hadn’t warned them the area was full of Comanche, either.

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “Annie, girl, I haven’t done right by you. I had such big plans.”

  “Wherever you are, Joe, that’s good enough for me.” She reached to touch his face with her work-worn hands. “I’d like to see the Lazy M grow, became a big spread for our children and grandchildren. But if it doesn’t, I don’t regret marryin’ you; I don’t regret comin’ to Texas one whit.”

  He loved her so much for her unselfish adoration that his heart filled up and for a moment he could not speak, so he stroked her soft brown hair. “I meant to build you a fine house with a long dinner table.”

  She smiled, entering into the spirit of the daydream. “And you’ll sit at one end of the long table, and me at the other. And all up and down the table, our kids will sit, the kids I’m going to give you.”

  He imagined the scene and enjoyed it. “And we’ll be prosperous, with lots of good things on the table and plenty left over for friends to come to dinner.”

  “And someday, our kids and grandkids will sit at that same table, so that even when we’re dead and gone, why, we’ll be there in spirit every time they gather ’round that long table. They’ll sense our presence long after we’re gone. We ought to have a lot of children, Joe, that’s what life’s all about.”

  He took one of her little work-worn hands in his and kissed the palm. “It don’t matter to me if there’s no kids, honey. But someday, you’ll have help around the house and a nice buggy to drive to church on Sunday.”

  She laughed and kissed him. “Every man ought to have a son, Joe. Someday, God willin’, I’ll give you mine.”

  “I’d like that, Annie. A son who has your big gray eyes, your smile.” And he began to sing softly to her in his fine tenor voice. “Like dew on the gowan lying, is the fa’ o’ her fairy feet, and like winds in summer sighing, her voice is low and sweet. Her voice is low and sweet, and she’s a’ the world to me, and for bonnie Annie Laurie, I’d lay me down and dee.”

  Tears came to her eyes as he sang to her, and she reached up and patted his cheek. “You were my first man, Joe McBride, my only man, and I love you so! Your name will be the last on my lips the day I die, I promise you that.”

  “Such sad talk!” he scoffed. “We got years ahead of us, girl. We’re gonna be two old people sittin’ at that long table eatin’ with all the generations, rockin’ on the porch of that ranchhouse when I get it built and fixed up good and proper for you. Oh, it’ll be fine watching our kids grow up, and then there’ll be grandkids and great-grandkids. . . .”

  “Oh, you make it sound so grand,” she laughed, and pulled him down to her.

  In her arms, he could forget the rough times, the land that would only grow sagebrush and cactus no matter how hard he tried. Even the squalid little soddie became a mansion with her in his arms, he thought as he kissed her and she smiled up at him again. How could he ever have thought her plain when that smile turned her small face into such glowing beauty?

&n
bsp; She snuggled against him as he kissed her. “I’m lucky to have you, Joe. You was so handsome and all the girls wanting to marry you.”

  “No, I’m the lucky one,” he protested, and he opened her blouse and kissed her breasts. He was a proud, vain man maybe, but he was pleased that his bride was a virgin, that no man had ever touched her but him. Somehow, that was terribly important to him. And they’d come to Texas because there was no future for almost illiterate, poor people in Kentucky unless they wanted to go into the mines as the generation before them had.

  “Remember,” she murmured as he undressed her, “you got to get over to the Adams’s ranch late this evening to get that new cow he’s gonna let us have on credit.”

  “Plenty of time for that. I want to make love to my wife first.” He kissed her.

  “Don’t think old Adams would have let us have it,” Annie smiled, “but his homely daughter, Hannah, has taken such a shine to you!”

  “How you talk, girl!” He tickled her and they rolled on the old straw-stuffed mattress in merriment. “Hannah Adams is so sour-faced her daddy’d have to hang a porkchop around her neck to get a hound to lick her face!”

  “Well, her pa’s big spread and money is better than a porkchop,” Annie laughed. “She’d take you if she could get shet of me.”

  He caught her in his arms, kissing all the way down her neck. “Don’t you worry about that,” he whispered against her skin. “Annie Laurie McBride, you ain’t never gonna get shet of this ol’ Kentucky boy!”

  He had made leisurely love to Annie, not realizing then that it was the very last time he would ever hold her in his arms. That after tonight, he would never see her again. If he had realized that those few hours were going to be their very last, he would have done things different, told her all the things he’d always meant to tell her about how much he loved her. But like too many people, he was awkward and shy with words, holding them in his heart until some future time. Only there would never be a future time.