Redeeming Light

by Annette O'Hare

  “You will do no such thing. And I won’t be brushing your horse either. Remember, I’m your boss—not the other way around.” Sarah was beginning to realize that poking fun was Reinhardt’s way of showing that he liked her.

  “Ven a comer!” Inez gave the call for dinner.

  The vaqueros came as fast as they could.

  Sarah waited for the vaqueros to clear out before getting up.

  Inez handed her a plate of beans and Pedro added a couple tortillas to her dish.

  “Gracias, Inez y Pedro.”

  “De nada, mi hija.”

  Sarah sat on the tree where she and Reinhardt had sat before. She bowed her head and thanked God for the food and for keeping them safe. Reinhardt’s curious stare unsettled her.

  He averted his gaze. Uncertainty shown on his face, and his lips parted. He begrudgingly formed one word to say to Inez. “Gracias.”

  Sarah turned away so Reinhardt wouldn’t see her grin.

  ~*~

  Her bedroll was soft, but the ground was hard, and the wind had died down, making it warmer than usual. Rex lay close by Sarah’s side, keeping watch. Not the peaceful night, or the soft Gulf breeze, or the gentle lowing cattle, or even sheer exhaustion could lure Sarah to sleep. She gazed at the stars.

  There were plenty of stars, enough for everybody to have one…like men. God provided a man for each of her sisters. Mama had gone through three. Sarah only wanted one, Frederick Chessher. Why God? If I can’t have him, then why did You let him come into my life in the first place? So I could fall for him…like a fool? Sarah squeezed her eyes shut. She had to turn her thoughts away from Frederick. Her mind wandered to Reinhardt. She shuddered, and then drifted off to sleep in mere moments.

  The moon was high in the sky when the cattle, bawling and restless, awakened Sarah. Rex whined and pawed her leg.

  “What is it, boy?”

  Pedro appeared before her haloed in a ring of lantern light. “Miss Sarah, Miss Sarah, you need to get up.” He crouched down beside her feet. “Mr. Reinhardt say something happen with one of the cows.”

  Sarah looked in the shadows, found her rifle and headed toward the commotion.

  A shot pierced the quiet night.

  She ran the rest of the way to the lighted area. The barrel of Reinhardt’s pistol smoldered in the cool night air. One of Daddy’s cows lay writhing on the ground.

  Sarah struggled to form the words she wanted to say. “W…what happened? Why would you shoot my cow?”

  Reinhardt pointed his pistol downward. “I didn’t. Snake got yer cow.”

  The huge reptile’s head was gone.

  Tears swelled and Sarah almost gagged, but she was the boss, and the boss wasn’t allowed to cry.

  Reinhardt kicked some dirt toward the snake. “It ain’t gonna live. Got her in the nose too. Poor old cow was probably curious and bent over to check it out.”

  Daddy’s beautiful longhorn writhed in pain as the poison spread through her body. Sarah wanted to cry along with her.

  “She won’t make it, Sarah. A bite on the face from a snake that big…she’ll swell up and won’t be able to breathe. Might as well take care of it now and not let her suffer. You want me to do it?”

  “No. I’m responsible for this herd. I’ll do it.” Sarah raised the rifle hoping Reinhardt wouldn’t notice her trembling arms. She pointed Daddy’s gun at the cow’s head and pulled the trigger. The heart wrenching bawling stopped, and the animal’s body went limp.

  Reinhardt called his men over and gave them orders in Spanish.

  Sarah walked into the darkness. Rex trailed close behind her. When she reached her bedroll, she put the rifle away and crawled inside the blanket. Rex circled before curling up by her side. She put her arm around Rex and quietly released the flood of tears she’d worked so hard holding in. She didn’t cry because she shot a cow, but because she’d shot Daddy’s cow. She’d failed him. Oh, Lord, why did You take my daddy away from me? Maybe if he’d been here none of this would be happening. I don’t have a daddy. I don’t have a boyfriend. And I’m not strong enough to do this without someone to help me!

  The anger rising inside gave her comfort. It gave her power. Was Daddy giving her the strength to finish? No…Daddy was gone, and Frederick was not hers. But there was One who gave her comfort, One who gave her strength, One who would never ever leave her.

  15

  “Mrs. Logan, please, I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.” Frederick held his hands up to the tiny woman. She didn’t seem to take him seriously. Could he risk refusing his boss’s wife’s food?

  “Bitte essen!” She pleaded, pushing strands of salt and ginger hair back into her tight bun.

  “Wilma, stop begging the boy to eat. He clearly doesn’t want any more food.”

  “Sie sind zu dünn.”

  Jeremiah Logan smiled at his little German wife before turning to Frederick. “She says you’re too skinny.”

  Frederick chuckled and put his hand on his stomach. “I won’t be if I stay here much longer.”

  Mr. Logan placed his hand against his wife’s back. Her laugh lines smoothed away when she smiled at him. Their love for one another was evident by the simple looks they shared. It was real, it was alive, it was the kind of relationship Frederick desired to have. But he never would, not with Eliza Broussard.

  Mrs. Logan turned away and continued heaping food onto Frederick’s plate.

  “You might as well give up, Frederick. Take the food. She’ll wrap it up for you to take home. It’s what she does. She cooks. How do you think I got this?” He patted his round belly. “Besides, you need to leave room for dessert…apple strudel.”

  Frederick put his palms on the table. “Oh, no, no, please, I couldn’t possibly eat dessert.”

  A thunder of feet approached the dining room door. Their five grandchildren trooped into the room.

  The oldest, no more than six or seven years old, ran to his grandfather’s side. “Papa, Papa, can we have apple strudel?”

  A girl with golden-blonde ringlets pleaded. “Peas, peas, peas, can we have strudels, Papa?”

  Mr. Logan pulled the little girl onto his lap and laughed. “Of course you can, Jess.”

  She hugged his neck.

  The remaining three children, not old enough to form sentences, gathered around his knees.

  The little girl with the blonde curls looked a lot like her gorgeous older cousin…Sarah.

  Mrs. Logan herded the children like a mother hen gathering her chicks. “Komm, komm. Here we go.”

  They moved to the living room amidst cries for their papa, and of course, strudel.

  Mr. Logan smiled as they left the room.

  “You are a lucky man, Mr. Logan. A wonderful wife, five beautiful grandkids.” Frederick lifted his hands to his surroundings. “Not to mention this handsome island villa.”

  “And don’t forget my ranch in Houston.” The older man teased and chuckled. “These are my daughter’s children. They’re visiting from Dallas. I love them to death, but I’m glad they’re going home in a few days. We have seven more…three in Houston and four in Mississippi. But you are right. Only Wilma and I don’t say we are lucky. We say that we are blessed. God has richly blessed my family.”

  Frederick believed there was a God, but he couldn’t say that he knew much about Him. Sarah sure seemed to care about such things. Would the fact that he wasn’t a religious man stand in the way of him having a relationship with her? Oh, my word…what am I thinking? I’m already in a relationship with…with… Frederick wracked his brain to remember her name. Eliza! He shook his head in disbelief.

  Mr. Logan stood and patted Frederick on the shoulder. “Let’s go out on the veranda. You look as if you could use some fresh air.”

  A pleasant breeze blew in from the Gulf.

  Mr. Logan sat in a black iron chair. He opened an inlaid wood box sitting on the round iron table between them, and then handed a fat cigar to Frederick. He clipped the end off his cigar
before giving the cutter to Frederick. He sat back and released a cloud of smoke into the air.

  Frederick struck a match and did the same, only he coughed for a minute.

  “Nothing like a good cigar after a satisfying meal.” The older man raised his legs and rested them on one of the chairs.

  “I agree wholeheartedly.” A soft, steady breeze flipped Frederick’s hair about.

  “Um-hm. So tell me, what do you think President McKinley’s next move will be in the Philippines?”

  “It’s hard to say, but I read that our boys suffered heavy casualties in the most recent skirmish on Mindanao. He can’t be too happy about that.”

  “No, I wouldn’t think so. Makes him look bad, and that’s not good when he’s up for re-election in November!” Mr. Logan puffed on his cigar. “Say, did you get that land deal taken care of for Bettencourt? He came by asking about it.”

  “Yes, I did. In fact, the papers were sent to him today.”

  “Good, good. I like to keep him happy. A lot of money there. And he’s a good man too. There’s a lot to be said about a man with money, and of good character too.”

  “Yes, I haven’t forgotten what you said about making sure our clients are always happy. And I’ve taken it upon myself to make certain Mr. Bettencourt is personally taken care of.” Mr. Logan discerning eyes made him anxious. He nervously tapped the ash from his cigar.

  “Speaking of men with a lot of money, I spoke to Mr. Broussard the other day. Seems his office received one of the first telephone lines.”

  Frederick tugged at his collar. Apprehension flowed through him. “Oh…is that right?”

  “Yes, said I was his very first call. Wanted to talk about the visit you made.”

  “You mean to tell me that he is fortunate enough to have received the very first telephone line in the whole town, and he called you to talk about…me?”

  “That’s right.”

  Heat crept up his neck. “I didn’t even see Mr. Broussard on my visit. Whatever did he want to discuss concerning me?”

  Mr. Logan dusted the ashes from his cigar. “Mr. Broussard told me that according to his daughter, Eliza, there seems to be trouble in paradise. Is that true?”

  Frederick dropped back into the chair. “If you mean that I’m not comfortable with being told when I should propose, where I shall live, and with whom I shall work, then yes, there might be a bit of trouble!” His irritated stated caused him to stammer. “She…she…Eliza Broussard is an absolutely shameless woman, sir.”

  Mr. Logan chuckled. “Sounds like you have some woman troubles on your hands, son. So tell me, why haven’t you asked her to marry you yet?”

  Frederick sighed while he snubbed out his cigar in the ashtray. “I…I don’t know how to answer that question, sir.”

  “What is it? Is she ugly?”

  “Mr. Logan…”

  “Well, I don’t know. I’ve never met the girl.” The man laughed.

  “I guess I just…I suppose…I don’t love her, sir.”

  “That can be a problem.” He twirled his cigar. “Her father is chomping at the bit for you to pop the question. What are you going to do about it?”

  That’s an excellent question? What am I going to do about it? He folded his arms and looked his boss in the eye. “I can honestly tell you that I have absolutely no idea.”

  Mr. Logan pointed with his cigar. “You know, Frederick, I’ve been hearing a lot of rumors about you lately.”

  “Go on.”

  “I understand that while I was out of town you had a couple visitors from across the peninsula.”

  He would have to speak to the office help about what was inappropriate to discuss with their boss. “Uh, um yes, that’s right. It seems that two of your nieces came to see you. You’ll be happy to know that I treated them, well, at least one of them, to lunch. Unfortunately, I took them to the German diner.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “No, except that it was kraut and bratwurst day.”

  Mr. Logan‘s lips puckered. “Oh, pungent, huh?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “It was revealed to me by Mrs. Gilley that perhaps my youngest niece might have had an ulterior motive than why she claimed to be in Galveston.”

  Frederick remained tight lipped.

  “I wouldn’t have believed it coming from anyone else, but I’ve learned over the years that my secretary is a mighty trustworthy source of information. With that being said, she also mentioned that you seem to have your own ulterior motives in regards to my niece.”

  Frederick was afraid to speak.

  The large man leaned forward, and their light conversation suddenly turned to sobering discourse. He pointed at Frederick with the butt of his cigar. “Now you listen here, boy. It sounds to me like you’re in way over your head. I don’t know Miss Broussard from Adam, but Sarah Jane is family…my family. And if you think for one minute that you’ll have a relationship with Eliza Broussard, and one on the side with my Sarah, then you’ve got another think coming.”

  “No, sir! I would never do that, especially not to Sarah.”

  Mr. Logan relaxed.

  “Sir, I don’t know what’s come over me. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted in life. Eliza and I were going to be married, and…but everything changed when I met your niece. Now I know that I don’t love Eliza.” Frederick rubbed his temples. “I’m not sure I even like her anymore.”

  Mr. Logan leaned back and put his feet back up on the chair. “Thank you, son. I didn’t take you for that kind of man. Now I’m counting on you to do the right thing, whatever that may be, in regards to both Eliza and Sarah. But I have some sage advice I’ll share with you. Don’t ever ask a woman to marry you if you don’t love her.” The older man extended his hand.

  Frederick grasped it firmly. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down. I promise.”

  Mr. Logan laughed, continuing to hold Frederick’s hand. “I know you won’t. Your job depends on it.”

  Frederick laughed too.

  “All right, then. You ready for some apple strudel?”

  “I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Both men stood and headed for the door.

  Mr. Logan rapped him hard on the back. “Wilma was right. We do need to put some meat on your bones, son!”

  16

  Morning dawned bright on the second day of the drive.

  The cattle were scattered, but the vaqueros were in no shape to reign in the herd. The previous night of drinking and carousing left them worse for wear.

  Sarah leaned back against the chuck wagon. She swirled her biscuit in a plate of gravy and took a bite. The hired hands had drunk almost all the coffee. Salt pork stuck in her throat, and there was nothing to wash it down with, so she tossed it.

  Rex greedily snatched it out of the air and swallowed it down.

  She dunked her plate into the washtub by Inez’s work table.

  “Gracias, Missy Sarah.”

  Sarah smiled. No sense sitting around wasting time. “Saddle up!”

  Her command was met with moaning and groaning from the three vaqueros, followed by a slur of words that made Sarah glad she wasn’t fluent in Spanish. Though they didn’t mind cursing her, they didn’t do what she said either. And she was fairly sure they understood what she wanted.

  Pedro said something to Inez. A heated Spanish debate broke out. Inez scowled at Pedro, harrumphed, then went back to her work.

  “Is everything all right, Pedro?”

  He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “She say she need to stay here. She need more time to cut up that cow into steaks.”

  “Oh, all right.” It took Sarah a few seconds to realize he was referring to the cow she’d shot the night before.

  “She say she have tortillas and cheese cut up for the men to eat. But she not ready to go yet.”

  “That’s fine. You stay here and help her. I’m sure it won’t be any trouble for you to cat
ch up with us before nightfall.”

  “Thank you, Miss Sarah.”

  The vaqueros hadn’t moved.

  “Saddle up! We’re leaving!” She turned to Reinhardt. “Why won’t they do anything I say? Did you tell them not to listen to me?”

  “Now why would I do something like that?” He grinned, making Sarah fume all the more. “All right, now. Don’t get all red in the face.”

  Reinhardt groaned and got up. After taking his plate over to the washtub, he cupped his hands and hollered at the vaqueros. “Vamos!”

  The three men jumped up. Within minutes they were saddled, and the cattle drive was underway once again. The look of pity on Reinhardt’s face was maddening.

  ~*~

  Driving the cattle across the Bolivar Peninsula was slow.

  Who would have thought so many changes would happen in such a short period of time? Daddy hadn’t been gone all that long, and already Sarah was moving on with her life. Ranching was Daddy’s business. He’d loved it. He’d taught Sarah to love it too. And as soon as she sold the herd off in High Island, she would have plenty of money to do as she pleased, wherever she pleased. She had to ship Daddy’s breed stock to Uncle Jeremiah’s ranch in Houston. Then she needed to find a ranch of her own, since Mama wanted to turn her place into a boarding house. Maybe Sarah could find a spread close to her aunt and uncle. She might even run into Frederick if he should visit Uncle Jeremiah. Defeat beckoned. Oh, Lord, how can I do this when people look at me like I’m just a kid? I have McKinney blood running through my veins, and McKinney’s are a strong breed, just like our cattle. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. Her own frailty and self-pity embarrassed her.

  One of the cows bawled in obvious pain. A huge, pregnant cow fell on her side.

  “Reinhardt, hold up!”

  He didn’t hear her.

  She put fingers to her lips and let out a deafening whistle.

  All four men turned.

  She raised her arms, palms toward them. “Stop!”

  Reinhardt raised his right arm making a fist. “Alto!” He called out to the vaqueros, and rode toward Sarah.

  “We have a pregnant cow down. I thought we had more time.” She yelled over the din of mooing cows and Rex’s loud barking.