Wild Texas Rose

by Jodi Thomas

  “You saved many lives,” Rose whispered.

  Killian shook his head. “I couldn’t save my brother. When I got back to where he’d fallen, the Union soldiers had combed the place. His body had been taken away and put in an unmarked grave along with hundreds of others.”

  “I’m so sorry, Killian.”

  “I worked the rest of the war driving the hospital wagon, but I never carried a gun after that. All my family was dead and I didn’t much care if I lived or died, but now I have Victoria depending on me. I’ll do what I have to, to keep her alive.”

  “Then help me come up with a plan. To my way of thinking, staying on this train is not an option.”

  To her surprise, Killian agreed. “I’ll go into that cluster of buildings and see if I can’t wake up the blacksmith. Maybe he’ll sell us horses and wagons. We’ll probably need three—Victoria says she never goes anywhere without her luggage.”

  Rose thought of the dozen matching bags Victoria had bought and had her maid pack with new clothes. They’d fill a wagon.

  “Where do we head?” she asked.

  “I ran this circuit when I was training. It’ll take us two hard days of travel, but we could go across the back country and be at another train station by tomorrow night.”

  “It sounds better than waiting here.”

  “I agree.” Killian took a step off the train. “Tell Victoria, if she wakes, that I’ll be right back.”

  Rose leaned down so she could whisper. “Do you have enough money?”

  Killian smiled. “Yeah, we got a wedding present left in an envelope. Duncan said a man dropped it off, saying only that the money was for Victoria.”

  An hour later they were packed into three wagons. Rose drove the first team with Duncan settled in between boxes of supplies Killian had bought. Killian and Victoria were in the second wagon along with all her luggage.

  Epley and Hattie brought up the third wagon with bedding and weapons. They were a strange-looking caravan pulling out of a no-name town in the middle of the night. Reason told Rose they could have made do with two wagons, but they’d travel faster with three not so loaded.

  The conductor had asked Rose what he was supposed to tell folks when he pulled into Glen Station and they were gone. Rose didn’t mince words. “Anyone who asks,” she said, her voice hard, “tell them we vanished.”

  Chapter 35

  For a while, Stitch watched the old private car sitting alone on the tracks. The wild boar must have settled down after he ate any food in the compartment. August Myers was nowhere in sight. Stitch figured he was locked in the tiny water cooler or he’d swung up in one of the luggage racks. Stitch didn’t really care as long as the man wasn’t following Killian and Victoria.

  A night watchman passed by about one. He waved his lantern once toward Stitch, then shouted. “You’re a little early to hire out. The next train won’t be here until five.”

  “I didn’t want to miss a fare,” Stitch answered. “Thought I’d sleep here. The yard is always quiet this time a night.”

  The watchman agreed. “It may be pretty quiet come morning. Word is we got a break somewhere down the line. Last train out is stopped a little over an hour out and is waiting for an okay to move on. Don’t look like it’ll happen before daylight. Workmen can’t seem to find anything.”

  Stitch waited for the watchman to move along, then silently crossed over to Myers’s car. He looked into each slit in the curtains. There was no sign of him or the boar. Finally, he saw the wild pig in the corner with what looked like a Bowie knife run completely through him.

  Myers must have killed the pig and disappeared out the back of the car without anyone seeing him. Stitch had been watching an empty car for an hour, patting himself on the back for having delayed Myers.

  He’d doubted Myers was sober enough to act quickly, and from what he’d seen of the man, Myers wasn’t the type to carry a huge knife. He was more the kind who carried a thin blade in his boot or maybe a little gun in his vest pocket but Myers had surprised him.

  Stitch moved in the shadows, picking up information from carriage drivers and livery stable boys who worked the night shifts. Once, he’d helped out a man named Pip whose wagon had broken down. Pip had been in charge of delivering stacks of paper to every major corner of town before dawn. Stitch had refused money, knowing he’d be taking a man’s pay if he did. Now he found Pip in the basement of the newspaper office and asked for the favor back.

  Two hours later, Pip delivered. Myers had dropped by the city desk just as the editor was putting the latest edition to bed. He’d asked for his wages and a loan. He’d gotten only what he earned. Then Pip said he was seen leaving with two men. Rough types, one of the printers claimed. Men who’d cut your throat for a halfpenny.

  Stitch thanked Pip and said they were even. The next favor would be on him. Pip nodded and both men knew they could count on the other when they needed a friend.

  As Stitch moved through the streets he knew he couldn’t just stay here and do nothing. He had to try and help. Only here, on the back streets of Fort Worth, he did fine. He moved among bellmen and night watchmen and even policemen who knew him, but if he went on the road, he’d be alone. He’d be a freak who frightened anyone he saw. No one would help him.

  As he drove toward Second Avenue, he worried and planned. Somehow he had to help Killian O’Toole.

  With no other option, he broke into Abe Henderson’s mercantile. Silently, he climbed the stairs to Abe’s apartment, but the man wasn’t there. As he slipped back down the stairs, he saw a light burning in a little room off the storage area.

  Abe’s long legs were stretched out in front of him as he slept in an old leather chair. A book rested on his lap and the scarf Stitch had seen on Miss Norman at the wedding was wrapped around Abe’s hand.

  Stitch had seen the shop owner many times talking with Killian, trying to walk without limping when he had to go out. Stitch knew he was a fair man. No one ever claimed he cheated them when they hauled orders from the train. Stitch had even been in the store a few times after dark. He’d always kept his hat low when he’d needed something. Abe had been polite but never particularly friendly.

  His only hope was that Abe would be reasonable now.

  Stitch blew out the light and took a deep breath. He had no choice. He had to talk to Abe. In the total blackness of the windowless room, Stitch shoved one of the long shelves from the storage room down across Abe’s chest, pinning his arms below the arms of the chair.

  Abe came awake with a start. “What?” he yelled more angry than frightened.

  “Henderson, I’m not here to rob you or hurt you. I just got to talk to you.”

  “Let me up!” Abe said, struggling with the board Stitch was leaning his weight down onto.

  “When we’ve talked, I’ll let you up but not before. I need your help and I must be sure you hear me out.”

  “Who in the hell are you?” Now Abe was getting angry and Stitch couldn’t blame him. If he’d been sitting up straight in the chair, he might have had a chance at breaking free, but slouched down like he was, he couldn’t get any leverage from his arms or his legs.

  “I’m Shawn,” Stitch said. “Killian’s brother.”

  Henderson stopped struggling. “The devil you are. Shawn’s been dead for years and don’t bother telling me you’re a ghost. No spirit has the strength to hold me down.”

  “I’m Shawn O’Toole,” Stitch said again. “And I need your help. Killian and Victoria are in trouble and they don’t know it. I’ve got to get to them.”

  Abe stopped struggling. “Light the lamp. Ghost or man, I’ll see your face. I remember Killian’s older brother. He had thin scars on his face.”

  Stitch let go of the board and struck a match. “The thin lines are still there along with other deeper ones I got when a cannon blew up in my face. The Yanks didn’t see much use in being careful when they stitched me up.”

  To Henderson’s credit, he didn’t turn aw
ay when Stitch turned into the lamplight. “I was maybe four or five when you left home, but I remember the thin scars. Folks said your old man put them there.”

  “He did.”

  “Why didn’t you just run away?”

  “I thought about it, but my mother had a baby. I knew if I ran, Killian would be the one he’d start cutting on next. So I killed him, then I stayed around till Mother could manage. I was thirteen when I left to earn a man’s wages. Killian couldn’t have been more than four.” Stitch smiled. “You know, I don’t think he ever noticed the scars. They were just part of me and he followed me around like a pup.”

  Abe leaned forward. “Does he know you’re alive?”

  Stitch shook his head. “I thought he was dead too for a long time. I recovered in prison and got offered a chance to fight on the frontier for the rest of the war. It took me four years to get back, but I settled here because it was home. I stayed in the shadows. Then one day I was hauling produce just before dawn and I seen Killian sitting on your front porch. He was older, of course, than the boy who followed me to war but still thin. He laughed just as I passed and I swear I recognized him before I even looked his direction.”

  Abe finished Stitch’s thought. “So you became Killian’s own private ghost.”

  “Something like that. I didn’t know he’d been talking to me for years, trying to keep me alive in his mind, until I heard him tell you about it. He thinks I died a hero. I couldn’t just come up and tell him I’m no more than an alley rat.”

  Abe was silent for a while before he said, “You’re his family, Shawn. He needs to know you’re alive. You were his big brother, his hero.”

  “I ain’t much of a hero. Most folks around here wouldn’t talk to me if they knew I wore blue even if it was on the frontier. They call men like me Galvanized Yankees, like we had a choice.” Stitch straightened. “I’m not here to tell you my sad story. I’m here to ask you to help me get to Killian before Myers does.”

  “I can’t walk without a cane or crutch,” Abe admitted. “I can’t sit a horse for more than a few hours.” He limped to the little stove and watered down coffee that had been thickening all day.

  Stitch nodded. “Can you drive a wagon?”

  “If I need to.” Abe handed Stitch a cup.

  “How are you with a rifle or pistol?”

  “Fair but out of practice.”

  Stitch nodded. “I can scout, but I can’t walk into businesses and train stations and ask questions or make any inquiries. Last time I was outside these few blocks I found places that wouldn’t even serve me food because they couldn’t stand to look at me.”

  Abe took a drink letting the old coffee shock him full awake. “You are one frightening-looking man, Shawn.”

  “Call me Stitch. It’s the only name I’ve used in years.” He smiled down into his cup thinking of one woman who hadn’t minded the scars when she’d kissed him. Hallie was with Killian. Another reason he had to leave.

  “All right, Stitch, tell me what is so important that you had to frighten a year off my life to wake me and why the newly married couple isn’t safe.”

  Halfway through Stitch’s story, Abe began to pack. By the time they’d talked it over, Stitch’s wagon was loaded with a box of supplies, bedrolls, and rifles from Abe’s store.

  “We can pick up fresh horses along the way,” Stitch said as he tied down the cover on the wagon bed. “With a few extras, I figure we can take turns driving and make twice as many miles a day.”

  Abe stepped up on the bench and said, “I have to make one stop before we go.”

  “We don’t have the time.”

  “We make time.”

  Stitch didn’t bother to ask. He turned the wagon toward the boardinghouse. Then he waited in the shadows as Abe, one step at a time, climbed the steps to the door.

  He had to knock several times before the owner answered, but without much protest she said she’d fetch Miss Norman.

  Abe stood on the porch waiting. The boardinghouse owner had closed the door in his face, making sure he wouldn’t be inclined to follow her inside. A nearby streetlight reflected in the gold-colored knob of his cane.

  “What do I say?” Abe whispered to Stitch. “She’s going to think I’ve lost my mind. I rarely leave the store much less the town.”

  Stitch swore. “Do you love her?”

  Abe shook his head. “I don’t know anything about love. It’s not a word I’ve ever used. I admire her. I want her. I need her.”

  “If you’ve got the symptoms, you got the disease. Tell her you love her. Tell her to wait for you and then tell her good-bye. We need to be on the road.”

  Stitch watched as a frightened Miss Norman appeared at the door wrapped in a long gray blanket. “What is it, Mr. Henderson? What’s wrong?”

  “Close the door behind you,” he said. “I’ve something to say.”

  She did as ordered, but she didn’t look happy about it.

  He handed her back her scarf reluctantly. “You left this.”

  “You woke me up to bring back my scarf, Mr. Henderson. That was kind but not practical.”

  He looked down, not wanting her irritation to be the memory he took with him. “I’m leaving to go help a friend. I don’t know when I’ll be back and I doubt I’ll have time to write, so don’t expect a letter.”

  Stitch coughed.

  Abe continued, “I left Henry a note. He’ll be running the place until I get back. If you need anything while I’m gone, tell him to start you a credit. I told him if he had a question he should ask you and whatever you say is the same as me saying it.”

  Another cough.

  “I don’t want you to worry about me. I wouldn’t be going if it wasn’t a matter of life—”

  Stitch’s next cough was even louder.

  Abe frowned at him and took Miss Norman by her shoulders. “I have to go, but I want you to wait for me to come back. Promise.”

  She had stopped looking frightened and started looking angry. Stitch refrained from coughing again.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “Because, Sara Norman, I love you,” Abe said as if someone had tortured the confession out of him.

  Miss Norman nodded. “All right then. I’ll wait.”

  Abe let her shoulders go. “You’d better get back inside. It’s cold out here. I’d hate for you to catch a cold.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  She vanished and Abe made his way down the steps. When he was back on the wagon bench, he said, “There, I said it. I figure I won’t have to say such a foolish thing again for several years. She should know how I feel.”

  Stitch made a slight sound and the horses started moving. “You forgot to kiss her, Henderson. You should have kissed her.”

  Abe frowned. “It was hard to think with all your coughing.”

  Stitch laughed. “Maybe it’s good you’re leaving town. You don’t know how to talk to a woman. She looked more like you’d come to tell her the school was on fire than anything else. You got to stop ordering her around. Women don’t like that kind of thing. In fact, I’m surprised she didn’t just step out and slap you now that I’m thinking about it.”

  “Oh, and you know women?”

  “I know enough to stay away from them.” Stitch picked up speed as they moved onto the deserted main road. “Or at least I did until lately.”

  Chapter 36

  Rose had no idea where she was going or how far the next town might be. Killian had mentioned two hard days in a wagon, but he hadn’t named a town. She only knew she was headed south. The storm had been lighter in this part of the country and the roads were easy to travel. Though clouds threatened, the stars offered enough light to see the dark inky ditches on either side of the road.

  About an hour out they caught up with some teamsters delivering supplies to the smaller towns the railroad couldn’t service. The men were half-asleep and letting their tired horses set the pace. Rose guessed the teams of horses made the trip at l
east once a week and knew the way. She could have moved faster if she’d passed them, but it was safer to follow.

  When the teamsters stopped to water their horses, one of the boys riding with them offered to drive Rose’s wagon so she could sleep in the back with her husband. Rose had made up a story that he’d been thrown from a horse, but she wasn’t sure the men believed her.

  She was so tired she couldn’t think of a better lie. She just crawled in the back and slept beside Duncan. His breathing was easier and the movement of the wagon didn’t wake him.

  When she wiggled in beside him, he moved his arm over her and mumbled something she didn’t understand. “About time you made it home.”

  An hour before dawn, when she woke, she was surprised to find him sitting on the bench with the kid. Duncan must have been telling him stories about the Texas Rangers because the kid said, “Your wife’s awake, Ranger.”

  She didn’t correct the boy.

  Duncan looked around at her and said, “Morning, pumpkin. How’s my sweet apple pie this morning?”

  Rose didn’t answer, but she guessed Duncan must be hungry.

  On a flat plain near the road they circled the wagons and watched the sun come up. The teamsters made a fire and everyone but Hallie and the girl relaxed on the tall grass. The haulers were used to the road. They slept on their hats and covered up with blankets caked in mud.

  Hallie, who’d slept while Epley drove most of the way, made biscuits and fried up slices of ham. Two hours later the sun warmed the air a few degrees and the smell of fresh coffee woke everyone up. They ate and talked like old friends, and Rose did her best to try not to notice how the teamsters and the mules they worked smelled about the same.