“When aren’t they plotting?” Creed replied.
Cricket watched as Creed’s glance darted quickly from Rip to Sloan before he added, “There’s been nothing definite since that letter we intercepted from Manuel Flores last year, but the Rangers are on the lookout for any suspicious activities.”
“I’m glad to hear someone’s keeping a close eye on those Mexican bastards,” Rip said.
“We do what we can,” Creed said. “Sometimes I wonder if it will be enough.”
There was a silence at the table as they considered Creed’s words.
Cricket remembered the cold and hunger they’d all endured four years ago when they’d fled Three Oaks in a panicked escape from Santa Anna’s ravaging army. Continued Texas independence from Mexico depended on constant vigilance by the Texas Rangers.
It had fallen on the Rangers to protect the four-year-old Republic, for the simple reason that there wasn’t anybody else to do the job. Because of a treaty signed with Mexico in 1819, the United States had refused political recognition—and thus military support—to the new Republic of Texas. And although Texas President Mirabeau Buonaparte Lamar had repeatedly asked, no Yankee bankers would loan the bankrupt Texas government money to pay a regular army to protect itself.
With no army of its own, and no money in its treasury with which to pay one, the threat of invasion by another pillaging Mexican army was frightening to contemplate. So Texas had printed her own money, enough to pay an army of irregulars—the Texas Rangers. The Rangers had no uniforms and were responsible only unto themselves, but they were known for their ferocity against, and their merciless contempt of, the Mexicans who threatened the new sovereign nation. The small, elite force of Rangers had become the real border between Mexico and the Republic of Texas.
Of course, while they waited for the sleeping threat of Mexico to wake, the Rangers provided the law and order needed by the new land. Thus planters like Rip Stewart were able to call upon the Rangers to provide the same fierce aggressiveness against Comanches and outlaws that the army of irregulars promised to use on the Mexicans should they ever attempt to cross the Rio Grande again.
“I don’t doubt the Rangers have the mettle to handle the Mexicans,” Rip said, breaking Cricket’s reverie. “What I want to know is how you’re planning to stop these horse-thieving Comanche raids on Three Oaks.”
“The Indians stealing your stock are probably Comanches, but they might be Apaches or Tonkawas letting the Comanches take the blame. I’ll wait for the thieves to come, and then I’ll follow and make an example of them. After that, you shouldn’t be troubled.”
There was no question in Cricket’s mind that the tactics he’d employ would add to the reputation the Rangers had earned as Los Diablos Tejanos , The Texas Devils.
“I don’t really care what methods you use. So long as they work,” Rip said. “By the way, you’re welcome to stay in the bachelors’ quarters out back of the house.”
Cricket wasn’t sure she wanted Creed staying that close to the house. He’d be able to see every move she made. It was obvious the same thing had occurred to Creed when he smiled at her and said, “I’m much obliged.”
“Good. Then you’ll be around to join us for the fandango celebration next week.”
“Who’s having a fandango?” Creed asked.
“Señor Juan Carlos Guerrero. His vaqueros have finished their roundup and he’s celebrating with a barbeque and a días de toros—that’s the Spanish version of fancy riding and roping contests. He’s invited most of the planters hereabouts and their families and arranged to have a dance in the evening to give the ladies a chance to dress up.”
“I didn’t think the Texans around here got along with the tejanos, the Texas-Mexicans,” Creed said.
“Señor Guerrero isn’t Mexican,” Rip replied. “His ancestors were Castilian Spanish, and his family has lived in Texas for over a hundred years. I understand things went hard for him after the Mexicans ousted the Spaniards and gained control of Texas. When the chance presented itself, he decided he was better off siding with us Anglos against the Mexican government. In fact, his son fought for Texas independence with Sam Houston at the Battle of San Jacinto—his elder son, Cruz, that is. Sometimes I think Juan Carlos wonders if he made the right choice. Seems he’s had to fight with us Texans as much as he did with the Mexicans to keep what’s his,” Rip finished with a chuckle.
“I’d enjoy attending Señor Guerrero’s fandango,” Creed said. “If you’re sure he won’t mind.”
“He won’t mind at all. You’ll be my guest,” Rip replied.
“Would you excuse me, please?” Bay asked. “I need to send out that order for oak to repair the gin.”
Bay didn’t wait for a response, merely rose and left the room, followed almost immediately by Sloan, who said, “There’s some kind of fever that’s been plaguing the hoe hands. I want to see if it looks like something a doctor should treat or whether that African witch woman we bought off Sam Kuykendall last month can handle it.”
Cricket slurped the last of her coffee and announced, “I’m going back to bed. Call me for supper.” Then she, too, was gone.
Creed was still staring after her in amazement when Rip asked, “Well, what do you think of my daughters?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever come across girls quite like them before,” Creed admitted honestly, if a little cautiously.
“Sloan will own this plantation one day. I’ve trained her well, and she knows what to do to make it prosper. I’ve also made sure Bay has all the schooling she needs to be a proper helpmate for her sister.”
“And Cricket?” Creed asked.
Rip sat back and smiled. “She marries Don Cruz Guerrero. On the day Juan Carlos dies, Cruz inherits everything—an empire—thousands of hectares of land and the largest herd of Spanish longhorn cattle in Texas. Cricket will be the wife of a very rich and powerful man.”
“Why would Señor Guerrero agree to let his heir marry Cricket, when you’ve just told me it’s Sloan who’ll inherit Three Oaks?”
Rip smiled. “Gold. He needs gold. He’s rich in land and cattle, but since the War for Independence, trade with the United States has tightened up, and of course there’s no more trade with Mexico. Naturally, we all expect things to ease off as soon as the United States recognizes Texas as a sovereign nation, but that could take years. Juan Carlos doesn’t want to wait. I’m more than happy to help him out.”
“For a price.”
“For a price,” Rip agreed.
Everything inside Creed was wound into a knot. Even though a marriage to join two wealthy families wasn’t unusual, Creed found this one particularly distasteful. Did Cricket know Rip’s plans for her? It hardly seemed likely, given her confession of this morning. And what did Don Cruz Guerrero know of Cricket? Did he know she drank? Did he know she could wrestle, and ride like an Indian? Did he know the feel of her soft lips and the silky touch of her auburn hair? That thought reminded him of Cricket’s aversion to being kissed by a man. How was Cruz Guerrero going to cope with that? Would he be considerate of her fears? Would he be gentle with her?
Creed tried to put a stop to the feelings tearing at his gut, but his concern grew until he couldn’t hold his tongue.
“What does Guerrero’s son think of having a wife like Cricket?”
Rip pursed his lips. “He doesn’t know yet. Juan Carlos and I are still working out the details.”
“And what does Cricket think of this marriage?”
For a moment Rip seemed uneasy, his eyes shifting away, but he straightened and brought his steely gaze to bear on Creed. “Cricket isn’t privy to these plans, and I don’t intend she should be until things are settled. Then she’ll do as she’s told. I don’t intend to let anything interfere with her future as the wife of a Spanish hacendado.”
It was obvious to Creed from Rip’s last comment that the planter hadn’t been as blind to what had happened between his daughter and the Ranger in the barn
as he’d appeared at the time. Apparently Rip considered him a threat to be dealt with immediately. And despite the cries for attention from his churning emotions, Creed knew he would heed Rip’s warning, at least for the time being. Because he had reasons for being on Three Oaks that Rip Stewart knew nothing about.
The talk of Mexican plots to invade Texas had become more than just talk. Word had come to Ranger Captain Jack Hays in San Antonio that someone in Rip Stewart’s household was working with a band of Texas-Mexican revolutionaries. It was also rumored that someone in the Guerrero family led the band of traitors. Until Creed had determined the truth of those accusations, he couldn’t afford to make matters any more complicated than they already were by getting involved with Creighton Stewart.
“I’m going to take a ride around Three Oaks,” Creed said. “I want to scout the terrain, see from which direction the horse thieves are most likely to attack.”
“By all means. Make yourself at home,” Rip encouraged.
At the door Creed stopped and turned back to Rip. “I don’t expect to be back for supper. Give my regrets to . . . your daughters.”
Creed hurried from the elegant dining room. He was late for his appointment with the Ranger spy in San Felipe de Austin who was watching the Guerrero family. And he very much wanted to seek out an old Comanche friend, before he returned for his first night under a roof at Three Oaks.
Chapter 5
RISE AND SHINE, LAZYBONES!”
Cricket rolled over onto her back, pulling the feather pillow with her, holding it so it covered her face. “Go away.”
Sloan bounced onto Cricket’s bed. “You’ve already missed dinner, and you’re liable to miss supper, too, if you don’t get up.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Don’t worry. The Ranger won’t be here to see you turning green again. Rip said Creed had business and won’t be joining us.”
“Best news I’ve had all day,” Cricket muttered.
“You never cared before who joined us at the table.”
“Nobody else ever called me a ‘brat in buckskins.’ ”
Sloan grinned. “A brat in buckskins? Well, what did you call him?”
“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Cricket mumbled from under the pillow.
Sloan laughed. “Come on. What did you call him?”
“It doesn’t bear repeating.”
“I thought not.” Sloan pulled the pillow off Cricket’s head, so she could see her sister’s glowering face. “Are you feeling any better?”
“Not a whole lot.” Cricket snatched the pillow back and tucked it under her head. She’d been in bed most of the day, but she hadn’t been sleeping, she’d been thinking. Never once, the whole time, had her thoughts strayed very far from Jarrett Creed. “He kissed me, you know.”
“The Ranger? Kissed you? When? Did you like it?”
Sloan asked questions like a small dog worried a bone. She didn’t give up until the bone cracked and gave up its marrow. Since Cricket willingly shared everything with Sloan anyway, she soon found herself recounting the events of the morning.
“. . . there I was lying in the straw beneath him waiting for something to happen . . . but nothing did.”
“Nothing at all?” Sloan asked.
“Nothing. Except . . . I guess I did get goose bumps all over when his knuckles brushed my cheek. And when he put his lips on mine . . . It was scary . . . like I was on the edge of a cliff and I was about to fall off. . . .”
“So you backed away from the feelings, until you felt safe.”
“I didn’t back away from anything. There was nothing to back away from. Anyway, whatever I would have felt got cut off when Rip showed up in the barn.”
“I’ll bet that was an interesting moment,” Sloan said with a grin.
Cricket grinned back. “It was worth the bawling-out I got from Rip to see the Ranger’s face. He was so . . . so confused.”
“You felt sorry for him?”
“Hardly. He deserved it after that stunt he pulled. Imagine not telling me he was a Texas Ranger.”
“Are you going to let him kiss you again?”
“I don’t see any reason why I should.”
“You might change your mind about kissing if you gave it another chance. Who knows? This Ranger might be the right man for you, and he might not. A man is sort of like a pair of new fur boots. Some fit and feel right, and some don’t.”
“That makes no sense to me.”
“Think about it. You could make a pair of warm winter boots from a lot of different furs—beaver, rabbit, fox, wolf, bear. . . . They’d all feel nice, but you’d probably enjoy the feel of some of those furs more than others. I’d be willing to bet you’d like one of those furs better than all the rest. Boots from that special fur would make you feel all shivery when you slipped into them, and you’d want to wear them all the time.
“It’s the same with a man. Some are more pleasing to touch—and to be touched by—than others. With a man you like a lot, the feeling can be quite pleasurable indeed.”
Cricket sat silently for a moment before she said, “I don’t need any new boots.”
Sloan shook her head. “You’re missing the whole point.”
“No, I’m not. I’m not missing anything—least of all kissing some man.”
“How do you know until you’ve really given it a fair chance?” Sloan demanded. “You might enjoy it.”
“What makes you such a know-it-all?”
“I . . . I’ve been . . . on occasion I’ve—”
“You’ve been kissed?”
“Once or twice,” Sloan admitted reluctantly.
“How come you never told me about it? Who was it? When did it happen?”
“I’m sorry I said anything. Look, Cricket, let’s drop the subject. I guess you’re right. This isn’t something that’s going to make any difference to you, anyway—unless you’ve changed your mind and decided you do want to get married someday.”
“No chance of that! As a matter of fact, that reminds me of something Bay and I talked about yesterday. She thinks Rip is planning to choose husbands for the three of us— maybe sometime soon.”
“He’s what? I’ve got my own plans for . . .”
“My thoughts exactly,” Cricket said, agreeing with her sister’s outraged indignance. “I was going to talk to Rip about it last night but I fell asleep, and I missed my chance again this morning to set him straight. I’m like you. I’ve got my own plans for . . .” Then Cricket realized the significance of the words Sloan had left hanging. “What plans have you got, Sloan?”
“Plans for who I’m going to marry,” Sloan admitted.
“This is a little sudden, isn’t it?” Cricket couldn’t control the sharpness in her tone, which resulted from a combination of fear and resentment. Sloan was the person she was closest to in the whole world. If Sloan married, there was no doubt in Cricket’s mind that their closeness would give way to her sister’s relationship with her husband, and Cricket deeply resented the fact that Sloan could have gotten so far as to make marriage plans without her even knowing that her sister had been kissed. Cricket’s jutting jaw spoke wordlessly of her need for an explanation.
“I’ve been seeing a man, Cricket.” Sloan braced for the outburst she suspected was coming and added, “Señor Guerrero’s younger son, Antonio.”
It wouldn’t have mattered what man Sloan named. Cricket was prepared to dislike whoever it was. But Sloan’s announcement was like pouring whiskey on a raw wound.
“A Mexican? You’re kissing one of those murdering Mexican bastards? Have you forgotten the slaughter at the Alamo? Have you forgotten all those horrible deaths at Goliad?”
“Tonio’s not a Mexican. You heard what Rip said at breakfast. The Guerreros are Spaniards, descended from Spanish royalty. They hate the Mexicans as much as we do. They weren’t any happier with Mexican sovereignty over Texas than we were. They were asked to pay the same unfair taxes. They were victims of t
he same tyrannical military rule. Cruz even fought with Sam Houston’s army. The Guerreros are as much Texans as we are. And I’m going to marry Tonio.”
“Rip won’t allow it.”
“Rip won’t have any say in the matter.”
The two sisters fell silent, hiding their fears behind the stoic facade they’d learned from Rip.
Cricket knew Sloan well enough to believe that if she’d made up her mind to marry Antonio Guerrero she would do it.
Sloan knew Rip well enough to believe that if he intended to arrange her marriage to someone else, he would do it.
That was why Sloan needed Cricket’s help to keep her relationship with Antonio Guerrero a secret. She needed time to convince Rip she should marry Tonio. But from the look on Cricket’s face, Sloan was very much afraid that for the first time, her youngest sister was going to take Rip’s side against her.
“Cricket, I want you to promise not to say anything about this to Rip.”
“It isn’t going to matter what I say, Sloan. Rip isn’t going to let you marry Antonio Guerrero . . . even if he is descended from royalty.”
“You don’t know that, Cricket. He’s already doing some business with Señor Guerrero. Rip and Juan Carlos spent the whole day together yesterday at the Guerrero hacienda.”
“Business is one thing. Marriage is another.”
“Promise me, Cricket.”
Cricket looked away from Sloan’s determined gaze. She knew she was going to agree with Sloan’s plea because she loved her sister. But Cricket struggled to find comfortable reason in Sloan’s request.
“How did you meet him, Sloan?”
“Remember when I had to pick up those supplies in San Antonio earlier this spring?”
“You met him in San Antonio? What was he doing there?”
“He was there on some business for his father. We met in the hotel dining room. There were no more tables, and he asked to sit with me. What could I say? He was so . . . so handsome . . . so dashing. . . . He smiled at me, and I couldn’t see anything or anyone else in the room.”
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