“All of you?” Dallas calculated the fares. “Plus your wagons? Why that must have cost a fortune.”
She nodded. “Akh, like as not. He hired the whole o’ the ship, and we brought our wagons and ponies and all.”
“Well, dang. How did that come about?”
“Oh, ‘tis good there’s no tax on talk. Da told him how oppressed the Travelers are in Ireland even though they descend from the ancient minstrels and poets who traveled the land. Saints preserve us, to hear Da talking you’d think they were near kings. O’ course, he says the O’Neills really were kings in Ireland long ago.”
“And this man bought your father’s story?” Nothing about the people he’d seen resembled royalty.
“Da explained Travelers’ special Sheldroo language, which is not the same as the Irish language or Gaelic. Sheldroo is older than written words in Ireland. Da said as how Travelers only needed a place where they’d not be harshly judged so they could live peacefully among their fellow man. And, o’ course, we’d need our wagons and ponies to ply our trades and make our way in the new land.”
Incredulous, Dallas shook his head. “And this man paid for all of you, just from talking to your father?”
“Aye, that he did. He said it was an ex-per-i-ment in what he called the social condition. And Da must write him each month and tell him how we’re getting on.”
She looked proud, then her expression sobered. “We docked in a big place called Charleston and then moved inland, but wherever we’ve been, still no one wanted us. The men talked it over and decided to go west, where they heard free land waited for anyone who wished it.”
Dallas couldn’t see Tom Williams as a farmer or rancher. “Do the men, other than your father, know anything about working land?”
She shook her head. “No, and I fear when they find their places, they won’t be able to, um, what do they call it, ‘prove’ it up? That’s what we were told has to be done to keep the land.”
He nodded. “Nothing in life is free, and homesteading is hard work. You have to build a house on the land and live there and improve the land in some way while you wait out the five years before it’s finally yours. Many folks have given up and moved on before they stayed long enough for their claim to be finalized.”
“Da says he’ll make it, but I don’t know. Sure and it preys on me mind, for I don’t know what’s to become of him and Ma. Da’s not that old and fit enough I suppose, but his strength has gone. Ma is ailing awful these past years and grows weaker by the day.”
“What about your brothers?”
She looked down at her hands. “Me brothers. No doubt Finn will do fine unless he lets Mac drag him down.” She heaved such a forlorn sigh it pained Dallas. “That Mac, he’s sparking with Mr. Williams’ niece, Vourneen McDonald. Oh, I tell you, Mac worries Ma and Da something fierce.”
Dallas figured he’d bitten off more than he could chew this time, but he vowed he wouldn’t let being saddled with a wife change his life. However much he enjoyed sharing Cenora’s passion, he didn’t want her family, too. Would she settle down while her parents went on with Williams’ threat hanging over their heads?
****
A week after his wedding, Dallas sat outside the wagon he and Cenora shared, his arm snuggled her to his side. Her brothers played cards with several other men near the fire. He’d just ended a long story-telling session relating Cherokee myths for the children, and several youngsters still played at his feet. While the adults might be suspicious of an outsider, apparently the children now counted him as a friend.
He supposed his and Cenora’s commandeered wagon meant her parents were cramped with her brothers sharing their vehicle. Most nights all the unmarried men slept on the ground anyway so perhaps it wasn’t too great a hardship. So far, he’d had the terrifying nightmare only once. Maybe sleeping with Cenora beside him would cure him of that problem.
But Dallas couldn’t even drive the wagon he and Cenora shared, and her brothers took turns driving for most of each day. The group still avoided towns for fear of reprisal for the two men Dallas shot. At least they offered that story.
He suspected his new family feared he’d escape at the first chance if they entered a town. The pattern so far was to travel slowly for two days and camp the third day. Thankfully for his aching body, today was a day of rest.
About ten this morning, the men had gone off to trade with farmers and ranchers while many of the women begged door to door. It seemed a sad life to Dallas, but most of the people seemed happy enough. He noticed the Travelers included his in-laws for the most part but still shut them out in subtle ways. The O’Neills might have been with the group ten years, but apparently they were still thought of as outsiders and with a hint of suspicion.
None of the O’Neills went begging, though in Dallas’s opinion playing for coins wasn’t far removed. Finn and Mac went off with two mules to sell or trade. Aoife rested a lot and looked as if she needed it.
Brendan shrank each time his adored wife grew ill, but he appeared helpless to do more than sympathize and give her another dose of the laudanum, to which Dallas suspected she had an addiction. Murphy, the metal worker, offered limited medical advice as apparently was the way with Irish iron smiths, but none of it appeared beneficial. Damn, but Dallas’d be glad to be home and shed of this sorry life.
“Soon I’ll be able to ride again,” he voiced his thoughts before he realized he’d spoken.
Cenora stared at him. “Are you daft? Just because you can stand on your own two feet now doesn’t mean you’re fit. ‘Tis true the wounds heal more each day, but you still have fever each afternoon and evening.”
“Maybe if I could ride again, I’d feel less like a fish out of water.” And less like a prisoner. He doubted he’d feel at ease until back on his own ranch.
She shrugged away his comment. “You’re restless as a drop o’ oil on a hot skillet.”
He laughed. “Guess I am at that. Wondering if my family are searching for me or worried and how my ranch hands are doing.”
For now he could only conserve his strength and recuperate, but he marked the trail with a cairn of rocks at each campsite or stop. For good measure, in case anyone disturbed the rocks, he marked a tree now and then. When any of his family came upon the marks, they’d be sure to follow. His father and uncle had taught him their ways of trail blazing through forest or desert.
“You checked on your big horse, did you not? I fear brushing him down made you weary.”
“True. Had to rest afterward. But I enjoyed pampering him. He’s probably wondering what’s going on.”
Women had served an early supper, owing to the fact most folks were away at noon. One man had bought a ham, and each family bought a few slices. He and Cenora had theirs fried, but some cooked theirs in cabbage.
In a nearby tree, two blue jays argued. A soft breeze cooled the air, but not enough for a jacket. Rain clouds gathering in the distance looked to be moving north.
He patted her shoulder where his arm rested. “Seems peaceful tonight, doesn’t it?”
She turned and met his gaze, and he thought a look of understanding passed between them. Except for being weak as a pup, the past few days had passed by easily. If he weren’t worried out of his mind about his ranch and his kin, Dallas might enjoy this respite while he recovered.
Cenora pointed. “Oh, no. Look at that beautiful chestnut Tom Williams has in tow. He’s that mean to his animals as well as his wives.”
They watched Williams bring the horse into camp, a sleek and beautiful animal. The spirited mare obviously had not yet been trained. Dallas stiffened at the way Williams tugged on the animal’s bridle. Her mouth must already be sore from the misuse.
She fought Williams at every step, neighing and pawing the ground. Dallas admired her courage, and his anger with the leader increased. Williams tugged the frightened animal’s halter harder and tied her to a tree while Augie and Mort looked on and laughed. Others drifted over to watch.
Williams tried to saddle the mare, but she kicked and pulled at her restraints.
Cenora hit her hands against her knees. “Akh, that man’s heavy hand makes me temper boil. I’ll soon have to go in, for I can’t watch him mistreat any animal, especially not such a beautiful mare.”
“He shouldn’t treat her so rough.” Dallas hated the man’s brutish ways, and Williams’ quick temper ill suited work with any living thing. Dallas’s own usually-level temper built up steam. When he saw Williams pull a whip into his hand, rage pumped through Dallas.
Stiff as he was after his earlier exertion, he rose and balled his fists as he called to Cenora, “Fetch some of my money.”
She put her hand on his arm to restrain him. “You’ll not make me a widow so soon?”
“No, that’s not my plan, but I’ll not see that fine mare mistreated. Get some of the money and bring it fast.”
Without further protest, she hurried into the wagon. Dallas clamped his jaw against the pain of hurrying and strode toward the horse and Williams. Dallas knew others viewed him as the outsider in spite of his marriage, and he dreaded an encounter with the bully. Would the rest of the Travelers take Williams’ side?
Dear Lord, give me strength for this.
He tried to saunter through the crowd and worked his way to stand near Williams. “Nice mare. Having a problem with her?”
“’Tis none of your affair, fool. I traded me best ponies to yon farmer for this wild mare. Go back to your wagon. Watch how it’s done, and I’ll soon teach this beast who’s boss.”
He cracked the whip, and the tip nipped a long, raw stripe on the mare’s rump. The wild-eyed, frightened animal screamed in pain and fought even more. Her tender mouth was torn where the bit dug deep, and bloody froth showed.
Before Williams could lay a second lash, Dallas grabbed the whip from Williams’ hand. “You’ll not gentle a horse by brutalizing her.” He spoke quietly, but he injected menace into his words.
The crowd circled them, keeping several yards’ distance as Dallas and Williams faced one another’s glare, yet onlookers remained close enough to hear every heated word.
Williams whirled on him, lip curled in a sneer. “You’re lucky you’ve your wounds to hide behind. No man tells me how to train a mare. I was breaking horses while you were at your mother’s tit.”
Dallas’s hands flexed into fists. He hadn’t the strength to fight this man, but how he would love to punch the smirk off that face. “How much do you want for this one?”
“Are you daft man? Traded me best ponies plus a gold piece for her.”
Dallas stepped closer. “How much?”
Williams named an absurd number, and Dallas said, “Done. The mare’s mine. You’re never to touch her again.”
Augie nudged Mort and both stepped nearer. The two burly men appeared ready for a brawl. Williams started to punch Dallas, but Will O’Leary caught his arm.
“Remember, this man’s barely able to stand. And wasn’t he sorely wounded saving one o’ our own lasses.”
Murphy said, “Aye, Tom, and he gave you your price. Sure and a big one it was, so you should be that happy.”
Williams shrugged off O’Leary’s grasp. “As if you were in any shape to break or ride a horse, anymore than you’re able to ride the woman you stole from me.”
Several in the crowd gasped at his coarse words.
“I don’t break horses, I train them. And I’ll train this one as I’ve done others, without a whip or brutality.” He threw the whip into the campfire and stepped toward Williams.
Dallas spoke quietly, but the steel in his voice left no doubt of his sincerity. “And don’t ever speak of my wife in such crude terms again. You’ll show her the respect she’s due, or you’ll answer to me.”
Cenora rushed up with a handful of money. Her flushed face and frantic expression made her look harried. She stopped at his side and looked from him to Williams as she thrust a handful of coins and bills at Dallas.
Thankful she hadn’t brought the money belt, but only a portion of the funds from it, Dallas counted out Williams’ price.
“Where’d you come by gilt like that?” Williams asked.
“From selling horses I bred and trained with kindness.”
Williams pocketed the money and stalked to his wagon. Augie and Mort trailed in his wake.
“Ah, lad, you’ve not heard the last o’ that,” Brendan O’Neill cautioned. “But ‘tis proud I am o’ you all the same. The man’s that rough with his horses.”
Murphy nodded and slapped him on his good shoulder. “Aye, ‘tis true. Williams may forget a kindness, but he never forgets a grudge.”
Brendan nodded. “Aye, that’s true. May the good saints protect you and bless you each day, and may trouble ignore you each step of the way.”
Dallas shrugged. Although he had always hated calling attention to himself, he addressed the crowd to explain and ease the tension, “I apologize for my temper, but I can’t see a woman spoken of unkindly nor an animal abused.”
To his surprise, murmurs of approval radiated from the crowd.
Cenora beamed at him, then turned and sashayed to the wagon, head high and a swing in her step. Several men congratulated him for his actions. One or two looked over his shoulder before speaking to see if Williams watched, but the man had shut himself in his wagon.
Dallas nodded to those clustered about him and walked toward his new mare, speaking softly as he approached. He figured he’d drawn a line in the sand with Williams the man would never forgive. Dallas had big decisions to make. First, though, he had a mare to rescue.
He stopped a few feet from her, his voice soothing and constant. The frightened animal rolled her eyes and stamped the ground, tugging at her tether. He spoke softly to her, promised sweet pastures and oats, gentle rides and good companions. How long he stood to pacify her he didn’t know, probably most of an hour, but he waited until her bunched muscles eased one by one.
Dallas inched closer and continued to cajole until the mare quieted. When she stood motionless, he held his hand up to her muzzle for her to sniff. She tried to back away at first, then stopped and eventually edged her nose forward. He kept his voice soft while he wooed her.
“You’re a true beauty, aren’t you? What shall we call you, eh?” He moved slowly, talking calmly all the while. “You’re a regal lady. Shall we let my own new lady give you a royal name?” His offer surprised him, but once spoken, sounded right.
The mare nodded her head.
“Ha, I thought you’d like that. You’ll like my lady as well. She’s light as a feather, and you’ll hardly feel her weight upon your back.” The horse could be a wedding gift. He only hoped the money spent didn’t run him short until he could sell another of his horses and that the foal due any day arrived safe and sound.
He touched the mare, brushing his fingers down her nose. She trembled but didn’t shake off his hand, so he repeated the gesture then moved to her neck. He peeked at the lash mark, thankful it didn’t appear to warrant salve. No doubt she would have resisted had he tried to touch the area anyway.
When she turned her head and followed his movement then nudged his arm, he thought she’d finally accepted him. “Come along now, lass, and we’ll put you with Red and let you two get acquainted.”
Still talking softly to her, Dallas led the horse to where he’d left his big roan. The newly acquired mare followed with hardly an objection. As if sensing his wishes, she sidled up in line with Red and munched grass as if she did so in that spot every evening.
The sun painted glorious reds and pinks on the western horizon and turned the distant rain clouds purple. Surprised, he reckoned he’d been longer calming the mare than he’d thought, for night neared. Dallas secured the mare and then, with a pat to reassure her and one for Red, he turned to go back to the wagon and ready himself for bed.
A surprise waited when he turned around. The crowd had not dispersed as he supposed, but all eyes watched him. He smiled and
called, “Good night,” as he threaded through them. Their awed stares bore into him as he passed.
They might be impressed by his ability with horses, but he figured they’d side with their leader in a showdown. What was he to do? He couldn’t leave the O’Neills to bear the burden for this after he left but, dammitall, he refused to be saddled with a bunch of his unwanted wife’s even more unwanted family.
Even as he thought it, he knew he’d have to ask them to come to his ranch. He hated the idea, but his rescuing the horse caused further split between the O’Neill’s and their leader. Dallas always accepted responsibility for his actions, which is what had put the current strain on his finances. He hoped that could all be accomplished without bloodshed—his—or loss of property—anyone’s.
When he stepped into the wagon, Cenora threw herself at him.
“Whoa, wife.” He near fell out the door again before he caught his balance.
“You did a fine brave thing. Thank you for saving the pretty mare from that mean-spirited devil.”
He tried to look solemn to tease her but couldn’t prevent a grin. “What will you name her?”
“You can’t mean it? Me name her?” she asked, her emerald eyes round as plates.
“She’s to be yours as a wedding present if you’ll have her, so I figured you’d want to choose her name.” She launched herself at him again. He staggered to plant himself firmly then sank to their bed and pulled her with him. As he laid down on their floor bed, she sat beside him.
“Oh, I’ve never had me own horse. Other than our ponies and mules, I’ve hardly ever ridden.” She sat lost in thought. “Let me see, what name should it be?”
It occurred to him she’d been like the mare, proud and beautiful when they met. She’d been mistreated by those kidnappers and barely missed out on Williams’ abuse. Plus, she’d faced losses, hardships, and discrimination. Dallas tugged at his ear and figured he’d have to be careful to treat her as gently as the mare.
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