River to Cross, A

by Yvonne Harris

  She glanced around. It was clean, everything made neat and tidy. Sourly she wished Jake were sloppy. But no. Mr. Perfect had folded the blankets and stacked their bedrolls near the door, ready to be loaded on the horses. Not a thing was out of place. Of course, there wasn’t much to be out of place.

  “Drink,” he said.

  She made a face, but did as he asked, telling herself if it didn’t kill her first, it might help, and that drinking the coffee had absolutely nothing to do with the smile lurking in the back of his eyes. Fortunately the coffee tasted better than it smelled, and after a few swallows, her stomach settled down as if it, too, knew better than to buck this man. Even the headache seemed to ease. She drained the cup.

  “More?” she groaned when he filled it again.

  “Just one, and that should do it.”

  The sudden softness in his voice surprised her. Swallowing her protest, she sipped the coffee like medicine. It had been so long since a man fussed over her, she’d forgotten how it felt. She finished it and set the cup down.

  She tried to smile back, but failed. With every right to be furious with her, he seemed almost amused and was trying to put her at ease. She took a deep breath and plowed on. “Chalk this morning up to my being a nervous widow.”

  “I already did,” he said.

  Right after breakfast, Jake sat down with his hosts.

  “We’re getting ready to leave,” he told Laszlo, and passed him a few bills, apparently more money than Laszlo had seen in a long time. “I want you to know how to reach us if you need to.” Jake wrote down how to contact him, either at Fort Bliss or the Rangers’ Camp Annex.

  Laszlo shook his head. “Until your group came, we had no friends in America. None. Now we have four, and three of them are Texas Rangers. I can hardly believe it. We had a little meeting after you went to bed last night and came up with a plan to get you home safely. We’re going with you to the Rio Grande. Once you’re across the river, you will be safe. But getting you there when they’re looking for you—that’s the problem.” Then he looked up at a commotion outside and smiled. “I think our plan has arrived.”

  Six Gypsy vardos, ornately painted house wagons, rattled into the clearing and stopped in front of Laszlo’s entrance. One vardo was driven by Gus, another by Fred, both pulled by horses with ribbons tied to their manes.

  Laszlo and Jake stepped outside to observe. Fred’s vardo was painted red and white with a purple door and windows, which had curtains. Behind them on horseback sat six men, two with guitars, one with a trumpet, and three women also on horses: Nadia, an older woman, and the girl Gus had flamencoed with.

  Laszlo held up an embroidered white smock with long blousy sleeves. “I have one for each of you. Wear them over your clothes and pull your trousers out of your boots. Then you’ll look more like us.” He frowned at Jake. “Anyone can tell you’re Rangers half a mile away—with those shirts, neckties, and knee-high riding boots.”

  Jake’s eyebrows flew up when Elizabeth jumped down from Gus’s vardo and twirled into Laszlo’s kitchen. She looked like a different woman. She wore a blue and red polka-dot blouse, a white vest, and a gaudy flowered skirt. Her hair was wrapped in a gold scarf with long ends hanging down her front. She wore a long jangly necklace and gold hoop earrings the size of her fists. Jake couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  Laszlo slapped his thigh and laughed. “It’s our Hoopa lady!”

  Elizabeth went over and wrapped Jake’s head in a black scarf to hide his hair, knotting it at the back of his neck. Jake swung up on his horse and fell in line with the others.

  It was ten miles to the river crossing, and on the way they discussed how to handle any confrontations. They were, Laszlo had advised, on their way to a wedding in Juarez, and looking forward to one of their own soon. On two occasions, Laszlo delivered these words while laughing and nodding toward Jake and Elizabeth. The soldiers laughed and waved them on.

  Twice, small patrols of Mexican troops rode by the plodding little caravan—singing, guitars playing. The trumpeter alerted everyone in advance when something out of the ordinary appeared.

  Once, alerted by the trumpet playing “Here Comes the Bride,” Jake and Elizabeth ducked inside the middle vardo. A large Mexican patrol with an officer rode alongside and motioned for them to stop.

  The conversation outside grew louder and seemed to go on too long for Jake’s comfort. When he heard footsteps coming up the wood steps to the vardo, Jake grabbed Elizabeth and sprawled into a chair. “Kiss me like you mean it,” he said, pulling her onto his lap.

  She threw her arms around his neck, and his lips met hers just before the door flew open.

  The officer watched for a moment, then shouted out the door, “Head back to camp. It’s not this one, either. Just a man and a woman, necking.” He looked back over his shoulder at Jake and smiled.

  When they’d finally reached the Rio Grande, they stopped alongside the river and spread cloths on the grass as though for a picnic. As soon as the road was empty in both directions, they hugged, shook hands, and said their good-byes.

  Quickly, Jake, Fred, and Gus collected their weapons, strapped on holsters and ammunition belts. Jake made a stirrup of his hands and boosted Elizabeth into the saddle. “Hurry up. Let’s go. Now!” he called.

  Without wasting a minute more, he led them down the riverbank and out into the water. Elizabeth followed him, her heart pounding.

  She looked back across the river. The picnic cloths were gone, the bank completely empty now. It was as if they were never there. Following Jake’s advice, the caravan had turned and was already heading up the road for the camp as she and the Rangers got themselves out into the river.

  Close to the shore, the water was shallow. Now it was coming higher. With each step of the horse, it got deeper still.

  When it rose to her horse’s belly, she cried out, “Jake!”

  He swung around. “It’s all right. The horse doesn’t want to drown, either. He’ll swim when he has to. Just hold on tight and he’ll get you to the other side. And keep talking to him, praising him.”

  “Good horsey, good horsey,” she said, over and over again.

  Jake stared at her, his shoulders shaking.

  “Don’t you laugh at me, Jake Nelson! I forgot my horse’s name.”

  “I’m not laughing.”

  But he was grinning. Cuss his hide. Her back stiffened as she snatched back her tattered pride. She was a swimmer, and a good one. She just hoped her horse was, too.

  She thumped the animal’s neck the way Jake did his horse and held her feet out of the water.

  Elizabeth’s horse scrambled up the bank on the other side.

  “Yippee! Texas! I’m home, I’m home.”

  Jake was there at the river’s edge, off his horse and waiting for her. He walked a few steps into the water and grabbed her horse’s bridle. Nervous, the horse whinnied, stamping his feet, shaking off the water. Elizabeth squealed and held on tighter.

  Jake laughed and fed her horse a lump of sugar, stroking his neck and calming him down. “Good job. Good boy.” He gave him an affectionate scrub between the ears.

  Gus and Fred rode up, their horses shaking themselves off, as well. “Nice work, Elizabeth,” Gus said.

  “Her horse was as nervous as she was coming across,” Fred said to Jake. “Rolled his eyes the whole way over.”

  “So did she. Neither of them had ever done it before,” Jake said.

  “Jake! You didn’t tell me that!” Elizabeth said.

  “A good example of what horse sense is in people. It was better you didn’t know.”

  “What if he had shaken me off in the river?”

  “I was right alongside, if you remember. It helped him to see my ‘bossy horse,’ as you call him, swimming quietly.”

  Jake’s horse grunted and nudged him forward with his head.

  “Hey, Banjo, I didn’t forget you,” Jake said, and pulled out sugar for the other horses.

  El
izabeth watched him climb into the saddle and start up the bank for the road.

  Outside Ysleta, Texas, they took the Lower Road—the old army road—to El Paso and Fort Bliss. It was a dirt road, a potholed single lane and not nearly as good as the newer road built a few years ago, Jake said. But it was less traveled and a direct route to Fort Bliss. He didn’t want to see anyone until after he’d spoken with Colonel Gordon and Senator Madison.

  “We go right past the lane to your house,” he said. “Let’s stop in, take a look around, and get some clothes for you. I think it’s best you come to the fort before deciding what to do.”

  Earlier, Jake had been strangely silent on the subject whenever she mentioned returning to the big house.

  They turned through the gates and headed up the lane to Lloyd’s house—her house now.

  From the outside, the big white house was as pretty and as impressive as ever.

  “When we were here last, the inside had been vandalized,” Jake said. “Those Mexican soldiers did a lot of damage in a short time.”

  The Rangers swung off their horses and went up the steps to the porch.

  Standing in the doorway, Elizabeth stared at the living room. Her stomach sank. Broken glass lay everywhere, with lamps and pictures broken and furniture thrown about, their cushions split open. Sickened by the destruction, she went upstairs to her room, picked her clothes off the floor, and put them into a valise.

  “A couple of outfits should be more than enough,” she told Jake.

  “You don’t know how long you’ll have to be at the fort. Better plan on coming back to get more.” He grabbed the valise and carried it downstairs.

  She frowned at his back as he walked out the door. This was her home, not the fort. She decided she wouldn’t stay out there one day longer than she had to. She needed to talk to her father. He’d straighten Jake out.

  Alone for the first time, she walked down the hall to Lloyd’s room. Stepping inside, she hiccupped on a sob and leaned her forehead against the doorjamb. Hot tears filled her eyes.

  She’d loved him for a hundred different reasons. She’d just turned six when their mother drowned on a picnic outing. Ten years older than Elizabeth, he’d helped their father raise his little sister. He’d taught her to fish in the Potomac and to swim, which their mother couldn’t do. He’d dried her tears and fixed her dolls. He’d taught her how to waltz and how to sit like a lady.

  What would she do without him?

  She missed him already.

  At two that afternoon, Jake saluted and stood before the desk of the battalion commander, Colonel Greg Gordon. A tall, slender man with thinning gray hair.

  Gordon returned the salute and laughed. “Don’t let Commander King see you do that,” he said. “According to him, Rangers salute no one but God Almighty.”

  He waved Jake to a chair. “Speaking of whom, when’s the last time you were inside a church?”

  “Actually I’ve spent the last few days in one and even spent the night there. I left with the abbot’s personal blessing.” He laughed out loud at Gordon’s surprised look. “We hid out in a monastery in the mountains in Chihuahua,” he explained. “I know the abbot.”

  As a young lieutenant, Jake served under Gordon in the Fourth Cavalry until Gordon accepted a promotion. When Gordon was later assigned to Fort Bliss, Jake was pleased. He respected Gordon, as a man and as a commander.

  Now, occasionally, Gordon trained with Jake’s Rangers, doing five-mile runs in the morning with them every chance he got. Sometimes Jake found himself running alongside Gordon, who was glad to get out from behind his desk.

  The colonel’s aide knocked and stuck his head in. “Senator Madison’s here, Colonel.”

  Colonel Gordon met him at the door. “Come in, Senator, and meet Captain Nelson. He just walked in himself. Have you seen your daughter yet?”

  “A few minutes ago. I left her at my quarters with Ruthie,” the senator said. “They were down on the floor hugging and playing jacks when I left.”

  He looked over at Jake. “And I’ve heard a lot about you. I understand you don’t think much of her going back to live alone in a big empty vandalized house a few miles from the Mexican border.”

  “That’s right, sir. Not without security, and not until we see what’s going to happen in Mexico. In fact, I’d like her under twenty-four-hour guard.”

  “You figured this situation out fast. I agree completely. Thank you for that. And thank you for bringing my daughter back safely. She’s all I have.” He cleared his throat.

  Colonel Gordon spoke up. “I’ve already offered the senator’s quarters here on base for Elizabeth,” he said to Jake. “On the post, she’s certainly safe. Ruthie can stay with our family and go to the nursery school with my four-year-old when Elizabeth’s not there.” He smiled. “That’s one of the privileges of being a Texas senator’s daughter at a Texas Army post.”

  Jake sat and talked with the men for a moment, telling them how they’d gotten out of Mexico. “We need to spend a couple of hours together. I haven’t had a chance to fill Colonel Gordon in on what all took place last week. Everything points to General Diego’s growing revolt. I think he intended to use Lloyd’s death to force the U.S. into reacting. Now he may be trying to raise the stakes. If so, we may have a problem. Elizabeth could be in real danger.”

  Senator Madison walked to the window. “I was afraid of that. You think they’d abduct her again?” he asked.

  Jake studied the floor, thinking before he answered. “I don’t know. It would be easier and safer for them not to.”

  “Just kill her, you mean.”

  Jake shook his head. “I’m thinking worst cases, you know. The reason against it is their desire that Washington know Mexicans did it. Abduction first, with a ransom note, would do that.”

  “I’ve been in touch with Washington and Austin. Both of them are watching this situation in Mexico. Both are very interested in your report.” He turned around and smiled at Jake. “How about dinner tonight—you, me, and Elizabeth? You too, Greg, if you can get away.”

  The colonel shook his head. “Not tonight. My wife has invited friends for dinner at our home,” he said.

  “Captain, are you available?” Senator Madison asked.

  “With pleasure, sir. What time? I have a buggy and can pick up you and Elizabeth.”

  “Seven o’clock sounds fine.” Gordon looked up. “But you haven’t checked in with your own office, Jake. Go do what you have to on that end. We’ll talk in the morning, probably all morning. The adjutant general is coming up from Austin.”

  Jake shook the senator’s hand. “I’ll pick you up at seven. A real pleasure to meet you, Senator.”

  Senator Madison watched him leave and shook his head. “Where did you find him?”

  “I didn’t,” Colonel Gordon said. “He found me. Ten years ago, I was his commander at Fort Dodge and managed to get myself shot in an Apache raid. Jake was a kid lieutenant and rode out on the field to find me. He rides like an Indian, hanging on the far side of his horse. He kept that horse between us and the bullets and dragged me out of there while I still had my hair.”

  “Sounds like we both owe him,” Senator Madison said quietly.

  “I’m trying to get him to rejoin the Cavalry and come work with me,” Colonel Gordon said. “I’m looking for a new Executive Officer to head things up.” Gordon closed a folder on his desk and leaned back in his chair.

  “Which puts him in line to take over the battalion when you leave.”

  Colonel Gordon nodded. “He’s ready. Texas Rangers have a certain professionalism about them, as well as a certain stubbornness. Nelson has both. For him, there is one way—the Ranger way. If a door is locked, kick it open. Jake Nelson is a door-kicker.” Gordon chuckled. “And I understand you’ve got a front door to prove it.”

  Madison’s eyebrows went up. “So that’s what happened. Glad he did it. He got my granddaughter out alive.”

  The senator stood
and returned to the window. “They didn’t know what they might find in that house. I think they expected to find everyone killed.” Staring out the window, he covered his eyes briefly and said, “I know I did. That was the worst train ride of my life.”

  Jake left Colonel Gordon’s office and hurried down the stairs of the adobe-and-wood headquarters building. At the hitching rail, he untied his horse and swung himself into the saddle. As he did, his eyes fastened on the steeple of the white adobe chapel on the other side of the parade grounds. At the chaplain’s request to the fort’s commander, the steeple did not have a cross on top so the building could serve as a place of prayer for both non-Christians as well as Christians. Jake made a squeaking sound with his lips and trotted around the manicured grounds, heading toward the chapel.

  Quickly he tied Banjo to another rail, took the front steps two at a time, and knocked on the office door. A small brass plate read Major William Tyler, Chaplain, and under that, God Is Everywhere.

  Jake and Bill Tyler had known each other for years, going back to when they were both part of the Fourth Cavalry. Tyler, an ordained minister, graduated from Chicago Divinity School. He was a career military chaplain, and Jake trusted him completely.

  “Jake, hello! Come in, come in. Heard about that Mexican operation of yours and was worried. When did you get back?”

  “This morning.” Jake smiled and grabbed his hand. “Got a minute, Reverend?” He tossed his hat on a nearby table.

  “For you, always.” Tyler waved Jake to a chair in the office, then slid his desk chair over and sat facing him. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

  Jake’s thoughts churned, trying to figure the best way to bring this up. He didn’t want to sound too serious, but Tyler was nobody’s fool. He would have it—and Jake—diagnosed in a minute.

  Jake took a deep breath and started talking. “It’s about a woman I just met. Nine days ago, to be exact.” He went on to tell Tyler about this woman, about her being a widow, and the ring that still remained on her finger.