Jodi Thomas - WM 1

by Texas Rain

The day was crisp with fall, the sky clear. Travis wouldn’t have cared if it had been pouring rain. Now that he’d set his course, he wouldn’t turn back. Because he could see no future for him beyond the walls of his study, he’d lost his fear of what any dream might reveal.

  Within an hour they reached the base of the hill everyone called Whispering Mountain. On the north side they could have ridden horses halfway up. On the south the slope was steeper, but faster on foot. No one had said anything about taking Travis up halfway by horseback. He would have had to lie over the saddle like a corpse, and he guessed his brothers had rather walk than see him like that.

  As they unloaded the gear, Travis noticed Tobin wore high-topped moccasins strapped almost to his knees, but Teagen had on boots. Travis preferred boots, also, but knew Tobin would be far more sure-footed for the climb.

  They lifted Travis out of the wagon and strapped him into the bunk, leaving his arms free. As Tobin pulled the ropes tight across his waist, Travis fought the pain.

  Tobin didn’t loosen the knot. “You know, if you’re going to cuss at us every time we try to help, it’ll get mighty boring listening to you all afternoon.”

  Travis grumbled to himself. He knew they were only trying to help.

  “Yeah!” Teagen yelled from the other side of the wagon where he was coiling rope so that it would fit on his shoulder.

  Travis wanted to suggest they forget the whole thing, but the fresh air and open sky had already lifted his spirits. “All right. No swearing unless you drop me.”

  His brothers moved to the bunk. “No promises,” Teagen said as he lifted a supply bag on his back and tied the ends across his chest.

  “I could hold that.” Travis pointed at the bag.

  Teagen shook his head. “No chance. If we drop you off a cliff, we’d hate to lose the supper Martha packed as well.”

  Travis leaned back, trying to relax as they shouldered the bunk and began to climb. The path might be too windy for a horse, but with the bunk braced on their powerful shoulders, they managed it. After an hour rocks made the climbing too steep to carry the bunk. Tobin took the lead and climbed to a spot big enough for the bunk, then he lowered ropes. This part of the climb went easier because Travis could help pull himself up as Teagen moved beside him.

  Three hours into the journey they stopped to rest. Teagen took a long drink from one of the canteens and said, “I don’t remember this being so steep when we were kids.”

  Travis laughed, remembering. “We were mountain goats then.”

  “Going down will be lots faster,” Tobin suggested.

  Travis nodded. “You two should make it in less then an hour without me.”

  Tobin frowned. “I just thought of something, Teagen. We’ve got to come back and get him tomorrow.”

  Travis had already been thinking it. “How about waiting until Tuesday? If I know Martha, she packed twice what I’ll need to eat. I’m armed, and if you pile up enough wood, I could keep a fire going both nights.”

  It wasn’t a question. Travis hadn’t asked permission. He needed to be alone. He waited for their argument, daring them to try and make him less of an adult.

  Teagen retied the canteen to the bed, showing no sign that he’d even heard the comment.

  Tobin shook his head, then grinned. “Sage is going to have a cat. She’s been mothering you for weeks.”

  “If I get in any trouble, I’ll fire off a couple of rounds.”

  Teagen and Tobin lifted the bunk and moved over easy ground for the last bit of the journey to the summit. Travis leaned back and watched the sky, feeling more like a man than he’d felt since he’d been shot.

  CHAPTER 9

  TRAVIS’S BROTHERS STAYED WITH HIM UNTIL AN HOUR before sunset. They piled up enough wood for a week and checked several times to make sure everything he needed lay nearby. The bunk was close enough to the fire for warmth, and all Travis had to do to reach extra wood was to lean behind him.

  For a while after they left, he listened to them moving down the mountain. Then all was silent as he watched the sun set. He stood by the fire for a while, but the uneven ground made it dangerous for him to move around. The muscles in his left leg were unsteady, holding his weight one moment and unable to do so the next.

  He sat on the bunk and watched the fire as the sky darkened around him. Sleep was the last thing on his mind. He’d missed the outdoors as if it were his home. He’d forgotten how good a campfire smelled in the dusky air and how alive the growing darkness seemed around him.

  Travis felt no fear. The only varmint who’d ever worried him had been human, and he’d see none of those here. The fire would keep any wild animals away unless they were mad, then they usually made plenty of noise, allowing him time to aim. He thought of how strange it was that man seemed the only creature who didn’t show signs of madness before inflicting needless pain.

  He tossed another log on the fire, enjoying the warm display of colors dancing in the flames. Even if he never dreamed, the trip had been well worth it. He felt his spirit healing.

  When the stars came out, Travis lay back on the bunk and stretched his leg straight feeling the pain ease. He watched the shadowy smoke drift to heaven and thought of the green-eyed girl he’d danced with weeks ago.

  “Where are you?” he mumbled aloud, knowing no one would hear him. “I said I’d find you, and I will.”

  He could almost feel her body pressed beside him. He couldn’t remember what her kiss had tasted like, but the feel of it came back almost as strong as it had that first night. Her mouth had been soft and her bottom lip had trembled slightly.

  Travis grumbled. He should have told her not to be afraid. He was so used to people fearing him, he hadn’t even thought of saying something. She’d been such a slip of a girl, barely reaching his shoulder. She probably thought he’d snap her in two. In truth, he wasn’t sure he’d know how to be gentle with her if she came into his arms. Maybe he would hold her too tightly if he saw her again?

  “When,” he corrected. When they embraced he’d remember to be careful. He’d touch her so lightly she’d think his hand no more than a breeze against her skin. He wanted to know every part of her. He’d take the time to memorize the feel of her.

  Travis turned away from the fire. He needed to stop thinking about her. He was acting like a half-grown pup, mooning over a girl. He’d held plenty of girls in his arms . . . hundreds. Travis reconsidered. If honest, he’d held very few. A widow crying when he’d had to tell her that her husband died. A few saloon girls who wanted him to feel their wares. A handful of hugs from women who were happy to see a Ranger arrive. Add them all up and he couldn’t think of a dozen.

  That was it, he thought. How could he have gotten so old with so little time spent around women? Sage didn’t count. Neither did Martha.

  Maybe the only reason he was thinking about the woman with green eyes was that he had so few others to think about. In his life there had always been a crisis, a Ranger needed somewhere. His job left little time for anything else. Could he be thinking of her now simply because he had the time?

  No, that couldn’t be right. No woman had ever made him feel the way she did—made him consider things. He’d spent an hour watching the stars and thinking of what he’d say to the fairy woman when he saw her. He might not know much about women, but he knew one thing, she was different.

  Since she appeared to be one of the few women in the world who hadn’t been too afraid to talk to him, maybe he should go easy on the little horse thief.

  Maybe she didn’t have good sense. That would explain it.

  No, he argued with himself, she had sense enough to steal a horse out from under his nose . . . twice.

  He fell asleep without giving any thought to dreaming. The fresh air, the smell of the fire, the stars above made it seem like he was already dreaming. He could forget about his leg and everything he couldn’t do and pretend it was just a normal night sleeping in his favorite place.

  Open space wou
ld always be his home.

  Travis slept soundly with no dream disturbing his rest. Finally, an hour before dawn, the cold woke him. The fire was almost out. He tossed logs on it and watched until a spark caught them, then he pulled the blankets around him and fell back asleep.

  The dream settled over him silently almost like a forgotten memory drifts into thought. He was sitting by a fireplace burning bright into the shadows of a room lined with books. He’d propped his left leg up on a stool, and the smell of tea brewing spiced the air. He was aware of everything around him, but it was the book in his lap that fascinated him. He noticed light blinking through the curtains, first pale dawn, then full bright, but he didn’t stop reading. An excitement pumped through his blood as if he were in the middle of an outlaw capture or about to find a vital clue to solve a mystery. He didn’t look up from the book, not even to watch the sun rise.

  Travis shifted and opened one eye. The morning sun blinked bright in his face. He rolled to his side and pushed himself to a sitting position. He could never remember sleeping past dawn in his life. Usually at first light he’d already downed a half pot of coffee.

  Staring at the campfire, he wished his brothers had lugged up a pot and coffee. The memory of the odor of tea in his dream came back to him so strong he swore he could almost smell it. Tea. He hated tea. One winter when he still lived at the ranch, they ran out of coffee and Martha tried to make them all drink her tea. The stuff tasted like hot water sweetened with elm bark. He promised himself he’d die of thirst before he ever forced down another cup of the stuff.

  Travis rummaged in the bag of food and pulled out a biscuit. Even cold, Martha’s biscuits were great, soft and fluffy. He washed it down with water and leaned back to think about his dream.

  As near as he could tell it told him nothing about the future, except maybe one day he’d find a book that would keep him up all night. That wasn’t all that unusual. Often when he was home he would read all night.

  The smell of tea could have been coming from the mixture of green wood he’d burned last night, and the fire in his dream sprang from the campfire a few feet from the bunk.

  No magic. Nothing special about the dream. No great message. But it did feel good to think about how his father may have slept on this very spot and thought of the future. Travis was more than ten years older than his father had been when he’d climbed the mountain to dream. He realized how young his father must have been when he died. Only two years older than he was now. He remembered his father as being tall and quiet, almost like Tobin. Andrew McMurray hadn’t wanted to leave his family when the war with Mexico started. Trouble had seemed a world away from their ranch. But he’d gone because it was his duty. Andrew had lined his three sons up and hugged each before he left. Maybe he didn’t believe his dream would come true, but he must have worried about it or he never would have left the letter telling them what to do.

  Travis couldn’t shake the dark mood that followed him all day. He used his cane and forced himself to walk around, staying clear of the fire. If he fell he could always crawl back to the bunk and pull up, provided he didn’t fall into the fire. But he didn’t dream he died burning. He didn’t even dream he could walk again, or ride, or go back to his life as a Ranger. He dreamed he was reading.

  All his life he’d been a man of action, and now, when he supposedly had one look into his future, he dreamed of a study, which shouldn’t surprise him, since he’d spent the past few months sleeping in one.

  He’d been a fool to even test the legend. It was just that—a legend, nothing more.

  By midafternoon the sky grew cloudy, but Travis didn’t smell rain. He wondered if his brothers were worried about him. Sage had probably driven them nuts by now, but he knew Teagen and Tobin wouldn’t come unless he fired rounds. They would give him the time he’d asked for.

  Before dark, he ate the last of Martha’s bread and cheese. He checked his guns out of habit, enjoying the weight of the Colt in his hand. It felt familiar, like the night around him and the fire. He could almost believe for a time that he was whole and the world was right once more.

  He leaned back waiting to fall asleep. If he were to glimpse the future, it better come tonight. As he drifted, he thought of how the wind always chilled his face when he rode hard.

  When the dream came, it was almost the same, only this time he was standing. He held a book in one hand. Big, heavy, black—like a family Bible.

  Fear cut off his breathing. His mind kept racing, saying over and over again, “One chance, one chance.” He tried to look around the room, needing to see someone. Needing it so badly he felt like he would have given his life for one view.

  One chance, he thought. One chance. His heart pounded in his ears as need and longing mixed with fear.

  He could hear movement, like rats circling in a dark cellar. He tried to see, but smoke whispered through his dream, blocking his view. He had the sense that time was running out.

  Forcing air from his lungs, he took action. In one swift move he opened the Bible, reached for the gun inside, and fired. The blast echoed off the walls as the Bible hit the floor.

  Travis woke with a jerk. For a moment he didn’t know where he was. The dream seemed so real. The room of smoke, the Bible, the gun in his hand.

  He closed his eyes and tried to shove it all from his mind. A nightmare. Nothing more, he told himself.

  But the dream still haunted him as his brothers carried him down the mountain a few hours later. He’d told them of his first dream, but couldn’t bring himself to mention the second.

  He’d forget it, he decided. In the legend a man only gets one dream. The second one didn’t count. He’d shove the nightmare from his mind and never think of it again.

  Only when he was back in the study and night came, he fought sleep, not wanting to see any part of his vision again. He never wanted to feel as if he were trapped, as if his entire life balanced on one shot from a gun hidden inside a Bible.

  Finally peace settled in, and when he dreamed back in his bed at the ranch house, he dreamed of dancing with a woman with green eyes.

  CHAPTER 10

  RAINEY ADAMS THOUGHT LONG AND HARD ABOUT selling the horse she borrowed from the McMurray ranch, but when life comes down to whether to eat or not, rationalizing is often served as a side dish. She reasoned that if she starved, she’d never be able to pay Travis and his brothers back for the horse, and if she didn’t sell the animal, it would have nothing to eat and would die, providing no help at all to anyone.

  So, three days after she reached Austin, Rainey walked down the dusty streets to a livery and sold the horse for what she hoped would be enough for a month’s room and board and clothes suitable for job hunting.

  Rainey had circled the town for two days and found Austin busy and overrun with visitors. Traders, soldiers, families moving in, all crowded the walks and cafés. Most looked as if they’d gone longer than Rainey had without a bath. She moved among them as invisible as the occasional rat she noticed darting from alleyway to alleyway.

  Though this town was rough and smelled of campfires and unwashed bodies, it had a liveliness she’d never noticed in Washington. Here the people seemed more real, as if layers had been washed away. There were no family names. No assumed respect given because of a man’s dress or even occupation. If Austin were a painting, the artist would have used only primary colors, no subtle shades. The very town seemed so alive she swore she could hear a heartbeat pounding beneath the muddy streets. Building seemed to be going on everywhere with wagon loads of lumber log piling at almost every intersection.

  After Rainey collected the money for the horse and saddle, she went to a small mercantile she’d noticed the day before. Though off the main path on a side street, the place had a sunny look, as if whoever owned the store cared about first impressions.

  Her choices were few here, but the clothes seemed well made, and, most important to Rainey, the place had few customers. No one would question or notice why a
ragged boy bought a dress. She’d thought of changing into her one dress. Though it hadn’t been washed properly or mended in weeks, it would pass if she wore her blue cap over it. But she felt somehow safer, more invisible, in the trousers and baggy shirt.

  Plus, something about her wanted to be presentable when she did switch into her real clothes. Many books commented that a women not properly careful of her dress must be not only an embarrassment to her family, but mentally impaired. So Rainey walked into the store in her boy’s rags thinking she’d change all at once back into a proper lady.

  The woman who ran the place had warm honey-colored skin and apple cheeks. Her kind eyes were framed with laugh lines. She seemed a bit overwhelmed as she tried to watch the store and take care of a child just learning to walk. She barely glanced up when Rainey entered.

  “Let me know if I can help you!” she yelled from near the back.

  “Thanks,” Rainey answered. “I’ll manage.”

  Rainey made sure she was the only customer in the store, then bought a rose-colored dress, shoes, and a proper bonnet. At the last minute she added undergarments, a nightgown, and a small handbag. They were the first things she’d bought new for herself in years. At the school, without an allowance or wages, she’d always made do with hand-me-downs from graduating students.

  The blue wool cape with its wide hood was an exception. Her mother made it for her last year, telling Rainey that her father had noticed her shivering and ordered the cape made so she wouldn’t become ill and neglect her duties. Rainey loved the cape. Though it looked serviceable and nothing special, her mother had put extra care into it. Double stitching on the border and two small hidden pockets inside the lining.

  Her one dress and the cape were now packed into her traveling bag she’d left by the mercantile door.

  As Rainey paid for her things, the woman smiled. “You’ll want to wash before you put these on, dear?”

  Rainey panicked for a moment, realizing her disguise hadn’t fooled the store owner any more than it had fooled Martha at the ranch.