Western Winds

by Raine Cantrell

  “You must have some idea of who could or would back him. Someone has money. I came here for answers, not more questions.”

  “Have another drink and calm down, Rafe. I’ll try to explain that there is more involved than your immediate problems. The Republicans have money. But Darcy is a Southerner through and through. He and Sy were on opposite sides over the war. But Sy was against the South being placed under military rule as part of the Reconstruction Acts. Times are unsettled. Andy Johnson lacks the political wisdom and tact necessary to carry out the generous reconstruction terms that Lincoln intended. Throckmorton’s out of the governor’s seat, but Edward Pease hasn’t made any decisive moves.”

  “What has all this to do with the Reina?”

  Silas smiled. “The political climate of this country, of Texas, is important to you now that you own land. You should be aware, since it affects your taxes and your voting power. The Republican congressional leaders favor the radical extremes to retain their power in the federal government. Southern Democrats resent their loss of power. There are men who are desperate enough to force the military rule to end by whatever means they can.” Silas poured himself another drink and sipped it slowly. “Rumors abound that they would supply the Indians with guns, stir what unrest and fear they can so that the army officers can’t govern or keep the Indians in line.”

  “And you think that Darcy might be involved with these men?”

  “I didn’t say that. I wouldn’t unless I was sure of the facts. It is a possibility to consider. Texans are fed up with having a scalawag government that turns its back on their problems.” He rose abruptly and began to pace.

  Rafe watched him, sat up straighter in his chair, and rubbed the back of his neck. The whiskey had hit him hard, and he shook his head to clear it.

  “Aside from all this, word has come that Johnson is unstable. The Republicans want him out of office, and having met the man, I know him to be fearless but reckless. His term in office has been fraught with anger and sometimes senseless retaliation against Congress. All these political machinations will have a ruinous effect on our economy.”

  “Are you telling me that you can’t help us at all?”

  “I can arrange for private loans with some wealthy Northerners who are looking for sound investments. The Reina could be that.”

  Rafe’s head snapped up. He heard the but at the end of the judge’s words. “Tell me.”

  “If there was a stable union between you and Lacey—”

  “A what?”

  “Marriage, Rafe. If you married Lacey, you wouldn’t need money from anyone.”

  “I know that,” he mumbled, dropping his head into his palms.

  “Is the idea distasteful to you?”

  “No. I just don’t want to tell her.”

  Silas wisely decided to let the matter rest. “I could get you some help to track down these rustlers.”

  “How?”

  “The Rangers might be interested in what’s going on. They’re not overly fond of the army, but someone is stirring up trouble with the Comanche. They would have reason to scout around if they worked for you. Don’t be looking at me like that. I know your feelings about anyone connected with the law. But after what happened to Lacey, no one would question you for hiring more men. You see, I agree with you that someone on the Reina is working with the rustlers.”

  Rafe made him wait while he gave careful thought to his suggestion. He couldn’t fault it. And he could use the help. There was no way to oversee every man and keep a close watch on Lacey.

  “I’ll agree, but they take their orders from me. I don’t want anyone else to know. Not even Lacey. And I want to take those papers you have back with me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Lacey needs to read that letter. I want her to know why Sy changed his will and gave me that special gift. I haven’t lied to her, and I won’t begin to. If she wants to marry me after she knows the truth, I’m more than willing.”

  “Rafe, I gave those papers and the letter to Curt before I left the ranch that day.”

  There was an instant blinding rage that forced Rafe to close his eyes. Curt had the papers. Lacey had been to see him. She knew what was in that letter from Sy … What a damn fool he had been. His own words haunted him. He had asked her to trust him, to let him handle everything, and she had, leading him on, making him think she believed in him, cared…

  “Rafe! Damn you, answer me! What’s wrong?”

  “You’re right. I need outside help. Someone has set up the Reina for a fall—and from the inside.”

  “You know who it is?”

  “You said it that first day. Lacey would do anything to keep the Reina. I told you she was shot from behind and it was dark. Maybe those bullets were meant for me.” A deadly calm replaced the rage inside him. He stood up and faced the judge. “I’ll meet you in the morning. I need to sleep. And judge,” he added, stopping before the door, “tell those Rangers we’ll be riding hard all the way. I’ve got an itch that won’t be scratched until I get back to Lacey.”

  “Don’t go off half-cocked without thinking this through. Seems to me that’s what landed you in a Mexican jail. I promised Sy I would be a friend to you. We’ll talk again.”

  Rafe merely glared at him and left. Silas slowly sat behind his desk, shaking his head. Lacey couldn’t be behind this. She just couldn’t. But Rafe had the dangerous look in his eyes of a man who had been betrayed.

  As the fifth morning of Rafe’s disappearance drew to a close, Lacey tried to cling to the fact that she still trusted Rafe. Tired of sitting in the courtyard, she was about to enter her room when the sound of voices arrested her attention. It was Maggie, wiping her hands on her apron, cautioning Curt to keep his visit brief.

  Striding toward her, Curt’s gaze lingered on her startled look, her pale skin, and the small bandage on her temple.

  “I came as soon as I heard what happened, Lacey. But the stories were confused. Someone said you took a fall when your horse was shot out from under you, and then I met Doc Culver, and he said you were shot.”

  “I was shot and so was my horse. Please, sit down.”

  “I also found out that Rafe Parrish is gone. Did he do this to you?”

  “No. Rafe was with me. If he hadn’t been, I would never have made it back. Honestly, Curt, I can’t believe you rode out here to accuse him.”

  “I came because I was worried about you.” He tried to ignore the way she pulled back when he reached out to touch her cheek. “Do you know who did it?”

  “No. It was too dark. I didn’t see anything, and they were behind me.” Lacey winced as she turned to pour out a glass of lemonade. “Would you like some?”

  “Sure.” He ran his hand in a distracted manner through his hair. “Lacey, after what happened in town and this senseless shooting, won’t you reconsider my offer of marriage? You need someone to protect you. Things are getting out of control. I heard about the cattle. That’s the work of a sick, revengeful mind.”

  “On that point I agree, but I won’t marry you, Curt.”

  “Where the hell did Parrish go? Is he out hunting for whoever shot you?”

  Lacey didn’t want to lie. The truth was, she didn’t know if Rafe was indeed doing just that. “Curt, I was just about to rest for a while. Why don’t you stay for supper? We’ll talk afterward.”

  “All right. You rest. I’ll ride out and find Parrish. I want some answers.”

  “Curt, he’s not here. I don’t know where he is. No one does. Just leave it be … please.”

  “Only if you will promise me to think carefully about my offer. Wait,” he demanded when she tried to speak. “I’m afraid for you, Lacey. You can’t expect me to stop caring about what happens to you. That’s all. I’ll tell Maggie I’m staying.”


  But Lacey found that she couldn’t rest. Curt had voiced a question that nagged at her. Did others believe that Rafe had shot her? He had enough to gain by her death. And where had he gone? Was he hiding because he was guilty or hunting whoever shot her?

  As she freshened up for supper, Lacey knew she would not have the answers to those questions until Rafe returned.

  Bo James’s leg was almost healed, and he joined them for supper. Fletcher was the first to hear the arrival of horses, and he rose to stand by the doorway.

  “It’s Captain Chase and—well, I’ll be, he’s got Evan Darcy with him. Want I should fetch ’em in to supper?”

  “Please, Fletcher,” Lacey answered. “Maggie, would you set two places? We can squeeze them in.”

  “Ain’t jus’ the two of ’em. Got a private, too,” Fletcher announced. “I’ll tell ’em to wash.”

  “I wonder why they’re stopping here?” Lacey murmured.

  “I was about to ask you why, Lacey.” Curt didn’t bother to hide his annoyance.

  “Darcy’s been sellin’ horses to the army,” Bo informed them. “Seems I heard talk aways back that he was doin’ good goin’ down to Mexico, buyin’ stock, an’ herdin’ them up here.”

  “Don’t surprise me any,” Maggie said, placing folded linen napkins at the extra places. “Tom Darcy tried to keep his son under his thumb too long. Maybe the boy’s got some backbone after all.” She eyed the table, unconcerned about feeding three extra men. The two plump chickens, cut up and fried golden brown, would have been barely enough, but she had fried up beefsteaks along with ham slices swimming in redeye gravy to tempt Lacey’s appetite. Pickled corn, new carrots, and a heaping platter of hot biscuits completed their supper. Nodding to herself, she placed another jug of fresh cider on the table.

  “Good evening, Miss Garrett.”

  Lacey smiled as Captain Chase walked in. Of average height, and a rather slight build, he had a charming manner and smile that she responded to warmly. He stood holding his hat with one hand; the other pushed the damp locks of gray-streaked hair from his forehead.

  He gestured behind him. “Private Cardeen. I speak for both of us in thanking you for your kindly invite to supper. We’ve been eating hardtack and jerky for days.” His gaze rapidly took in the spread on the table. “Looks mighty good, ma’am.”

  It was Maggie who urged them to sit and began passing bowls to them. Lacey was staring at the door, where Evan Darcy stood.

  It had been over a year since she had seen him, and the change was a startling one. Evan had filled out all the promise of his lanky frame. The buckskin shirt and pants he wore fitted his body snugly. His hair was a riot of brown and blond shades from the sun, thick and wavy, but longer than she remembered—it now reached the collar of his shirt. He had grown a mustache that gave his face a hard look. His blue eyes, the shade of a summer sky, were as thoroughly assessing her own appearance.

  The captain coughed in embarrassment at their lengthy stares, but it was Curt who finally spoke.

  “It’s good to see you again, Evan. It’s been a long time.” “Yeah,” he answered softly. “It sure has.”

  No one was fooled into thinking he was answering Curt, for he had not taken his eyes from Lacey.

  “You gonna stand there, boy, and let my cookin’ get cold?”

  “No, Maggie.” He set his hat on a peg near the door. “Been too long since I ate home cooking.”

  Lacey quickly said grace and, when done, answered the captain’s questions about her bandage.

  “And you have no idea who shot you?” he asked.

  “No. I explained that to Curt earlier. My partner and I were tracking, and it was dark. It could have been anyone. Even your father, Evan.”

  Since everyone knew how Evan felt about his father, no one was surprised when he offered no defense. “I heard this new partner of yours, Lacey, has greaser blood. That true?”

  The insult to Rafe touched a raw place inside her, and Lacey had to control her temper. She didn’t think to ask how he knew anything about Rafe. But she cautioned herself not to answer immediately. Most Texans hated anyone with either Mexican or Indian blood in them. There was too much bitterness over the killing committed by all in the last thirty years of fighting over land for it to be forgotten. She had never considered it as a measure of judging a person. Neither had Sy. He couldn’t have, if he had loved Rafe’s mother so much that he left their son half the Reina. And there were her own feelings for Rafe to consider.

  With eyes as unfriendly as two shotgun bores, she stared across the table into Evan’s blue ones. “Rafe is not a ‘greaser,’ Evan. And that’s your term, not mine. He’s Sy Garrett’s son, a fact you may not be aware of, but a true one. Never repeat that term in my hearing again. And tuck this warning away. Rafe wouldn’t take kindly to hearing it.”

  “Just warning you, that’s all. Man with greaser blood ain’t to be trusted.”

  “I agree with Evan,” Curt said. “I’ve tried to tell you that, Lacey. Not that it did me any good.” He refused to look at her, his bitterness in his voice, for he had heard enough of her defending Rafe Parrish.

  Maggie shot Curt a hard look. “You’d best eat your supper, mister, an’ leave Lacey to judge for herself what kind of a man he is. There’s some that don’t like strangers pokin’ in the Reina’s business.”

  “Maggie, really, that was uncalled for.” But Lacey lowered her head, hiding her smile and deciding it was time to do a little questioning of her own.

  “So tell us, Captain, why are you so far south?”

  “Evan’s been helping us track a renegade band of Comanche. They’ve raided ranches up around the fort and farther west.”

  “You tracked them here? But we’ve never had trouble with them. They took a few head of cattle, but Sy was always aware of that. We have never come under direct attack.”

  “Ain’t only raiding but killing, ma’am,” the private volunteered and swallowed whatever else he was about to say along with his food at the silent command his officer gave.

  Lacey looked up at the captain, unable to hide her alarm. “I believe you should tell us what has been happening, Captain Chase.”

  He hesitated but knew that she had a right to know the danger they could be facing. “I know there’s resentment for the army’s control over the government. That’s led us to believe that someone is stirring up the Indians by selling them guns. Permanent camp is being built. We can keep watch over the Butterfield, Goodnight, Comanche, and Chihuahua trails now. But our forces are scattered in the West. Satanta, a Kiowa chief, and the Comanche admitted they’re raiding again. They want their lands and their buffalo back.” He shook his head, and disgust colored his voice. “Officers like Sheridan and Custer are talking about the need for a harder stand with the Indians. Too many are leaving the reservations and looting north of here.”

  Lacey listened as he continued, hiding her horror at the tales of brutal murders of innocent children on both sides and of women too old to be used as slaves or sold into Mexico for guns. She didn’t think to interrupt him when the thought rose that few, if any, scalps were taken. She recalled Sy telling her that the warlike Comanche took an enemy’s scalp to count coup as a point of honor. The stories continued and the thought slipped away.

  “I’m warning everyone. This is the first time, with Evan’s help, that we’ve kept track of them.”

  “We appreciate the warning, Captain. I wish I had more information to offer.”

  “Are you sure, Lacey?” Curt asked. “Or are you afraid that whatever you say would cast a bad light on Rafe Parrish?”

  She gave him her full attention, hazel eyes glaring. “Explain to me what you mean by that uncalled-for question!”

  Curt grabbed her hands with his. His eyes, filled with love and concern, held her own. “I should have though
t that was obvious, Lacey. Listening to the captain, you should realize that nothing bad happened on the Reina until Parrish came here. What do any of us know about him?”

  Lacey opened her mouth to answer him but stopped herself. How could she offer her instincts about Rafe in defense of him? Her gaze was snagged by Fletcher’s.

  His eyes held a shrewd, cold look. He was not about to let it pass. “Ain’t got a lick of sense to be sayin’ that. Sy’s boy can’t be a part of this, I tell you. I’d stake my life on it. He jus’ ain’t got cause to, iffen you think on the facts. An’ what gives you the right to come here an’ eat his food, then be accusin’ him?”

  Curt sat with a thin semblance of a smile on his lips. He had proof of what kind of a man Rafe Parrish was, but he wasn’t going to reveal it to anyone. Anyone, that is, but Lacey. And only when he deemed the timing to be right. Like a tinhorn gambler, this was his ace in the hole.

  Satisfied that he had shut him up, Fletcher rose. “Wait, Maggie. I’ll lend you a hand with dessert.” He knew she couldn’t stand looking at Curt one second more than he could.

  Lacey turned to Evan to break the tension. “Are you going to continue scouting, or have you come home?” He confused her with the quick darting look he shot at Curt.

  “I only rode this far with the captain. I guess I’ll stop home, but I don’t have plans. Heard that you were a bit shorthanded. Wouldn’t offer a friend a job, would you?”

  Since Lacey was gazing into his eyes, she missed the horrified looks that Bo, Fletcher, and Maggie exchanged. She knew Evan hated his father and for that reason could be trusted. Rafe might not like it, but after all, the Reina was still half hers.

  “The pay is twenty dollars a month, board, and your pick of the remuda. But I warn you, Rafe is a boss. I don’t want any trouble between you. We have enough.”

  “Won’t get any from me. And I’ve got my own horses. As for this partner giving orders, we’ll see. You’re the boss of the Reina.”