Jodi Thomas - WM 1 Page 12

That night, alone in her room, she wrote her first letter to Travis.

  CHAPTER 12

  WHEN TRAVIS RETURNED FROM THE SUMMIT OF WHISPERING Mountain, everyone, including Martha, commented on how quiet he seemed. The angry sulking side of him had disappeared, but judging from his family’s looks, the replacement was just as hard to watch.

  He used his crutches and came to meals without being bullied, but the rest of the time he preferred being alone. If the family gathered around him, Travis found an excuse to move elsewhere. He asked few questions about the ranch and offered little in conversation to anyone, yet when they finally quit trying to make small talk, he felt no sense of relief. Out of boredom he began to read, glancing over every book in the library, but finding those on law the most interesting because he could relate to them. He settled into them as if they were old friends who came to visit. A part of the life he’d known for ten years linked him to every word. Before long law books were scattered all over the study and the porch.

  Over the years an old judge in Austin had often handed him a book on law to carry in his saddlebags. Once after Travis had to put his horse down, he’d walked for miles carrying his saddle. He’d cussed the heavy book tucked into the bags, but he hadn’t left it behind. There was something fascinating about how justice worked. Old Judge Gates was right about one thing: In order for it to work, it had to work the same for everyone.

  While he read, he thought of his dream. The only place he’d ever stood with his hand on the Bible had been in a courtroom. Did the dream mean that someday he’d drop the justice system and take the law into his own hands?

  One rainy Sunday afternoon when he left the study for the solitude of the porch, he heard Sage complain. Teagen hushed her by saying that Travis had a right to his privacy.

  As the days turned to winter, he pulled further and further into himself. Often as not, when he sat on the porch staring out across the land, he saw nothing, not even the weather he’d always loved watching. He spent many hours with his nose buried in a book and never read a word. With the loss of his job, he felt no sense of purpose. His wounds healed, but the pain remained, reminding him that he’d never be as strong. Much as he hated it, he needed the cane.

  He was surprised one morning when Teagen barged into the study. His older brother still wore his coat, so he hadn’t stopped by for an early lunch. Winter air followed him inside. Though Travis was out of bed and wearing trousers, he hadn’t bothered to shave in days.

  He looked up from the fire he’d been watching. “Morning, brother.” He didn’t bother to ask what Teagen wanted; he figured he’d find out soon enough.

  Teagen grinned as he pulled off his gloves and moved closer to the fire. “I picked up supplies from Elmo’s post this morning. He said one of the soldiers passing through on his way delivering supplies north dropped off a bag of mail. I waited around hoping the books we ordered last month arrived. No luck.” He pulled out an envelope from the inside pocket of his coat. “But . . . this came for you.”

  Travis frowned. He didn’t reach for the envelope. He’d heard from the Ranger station a few times when he had first been hurt, but they’d long ago gone on to other problems. “Who’d write me?” he said more to himself than anyone.

  Teagen, as always, lost what little patience the Lord gave him. “How do I know? Why don’t you open the envelope and find out?” He dropped the letter into Travis’s lap and walked out.

  Travis stared at it for a while, thinking of all the people he knew across the state. He’d seen little evidence that most of them even knew how to write, and the few who could weren’t close enough friends to bother. He’d put enough outlaws in jail that one might write just to remind Travis that he still hated him. But outlaws usually yelled their death threats. Writing them seemed too civilized.

  The ranch ordered supplies by mail sometimes. They received catalogs from as far away as New York. But letters were very rare.

  Travis tapped the letter against the arm of his chair and wondered if Teagen was just outside the door waiting for him to open the letter. His older brother always liked a mystery.

  He lifted the weathered and bent dispatch that had probably been stuffed from one mailbag to another. The front had his name in bold letters, then Whispering Mountain Ranch near Anderson Trading Post, northeast of Austin. Whoever wrote knew where they could find him.

  Travis guessed few would know Whispering Mountain’s location, but most men who hauled supplies north knew of Elmo’s place. Trading posts and missions were landmarks along dusty roads holding settlements together.

  On the back of the paper he saw the return address as Sam Irish, General Delivery, Eaton Erhard’s Store, San Marcos Settlement.

  Travis leaned back in his chair to think. He knew no Sam Irish. He hadn’t been to Erhard’s place at the headwaters of the San Marcos River in over a year. This had to be a mistake. Teagen occasionally got mail from Austin because the land was in his name. Tobin got inquiries about the horses he sold. No one wrote to Travis.

  He opened the letter, prepared to be disappointed.

  Dear Mr. McMurray,

  You may not remember me, but I would like to inquire as to your health and tell you that I will pay for the horse I borrowed from your family as soon as I am able. I feel certain you would have loaned it to me if you had not been far too ill for me to explain why I needed it. True, you might have argued, but I must assume I would have persuaded you if I’d had the time and your attention.

  Travis laughed, truly laughed for the first time since he’d been shot.

  The fairy was back in his life.

  She wrote on, telling him that though he knew Sam wasn’t her name, she’d like to correspond as such and to please give his family her warm regards. She told of how worried she was about him and how she’d thought of him often. She also said that she sold the horse out of kindness because if she hadn’t, it would have starved. She promised a dollar a week by post until her debt was paid.

  The note was signed: Warmest regards, R.

  He ran his thumb over the initial, guessing she’d just given the first hint as to her real name. The paper was rough, probably the cheapest sold, but the penmanship was flawless. Whoever this fairy woman was, one fact was certain: She’d been educated.

  Travis read the letter a dozen times, then folded it into his shirt pocket, got dressed, left his crutches behind, and, using only his cane, went for a walk. When he returned, he asked Martha to pull the entire set of law books from the top shelf, and he began to search for rulings on theft. If Sam Irish made a habit of borrowing other people’s belongings, his fairy might need a friend who knew the law.

  Three hours later, when Martha brought him a tray for lunch, he was hard at work at the desk. That evening, at dinner, Travis came to the table shaved and smiling. Everyone waited for an explanation, but he only said that he’d found the law books very interesting and entertained them all with things he’d learned.

  When Martha served dessert, he took his to the study, claiming he had more reading to do. Sage and his brothers stared at him, but no one said a word.

  By midnight Travis had answered her letter and knew the hardest part would be waiting until someone in the family mentioned going to town so he could ask them to post it for him.

  San Marcos was only thirty or so miles from Austin. If Elmo sent the mail with someone traveling south, his letter could reach the capital in three or four days. Then allowing two days for it to get on a stage heading south toward San Antonio, the driver might drop the mail at the halfway point—San Marcos—within another day.

  Travis tapped his letter against his hand. In a week his fairy woman could be holding his answer in her hands. Smiling, he reasoned that on a fast horse he could be there in half the time and be holding her. The need to do just that surprised him. He’d only been with her for minutes, yet the memory of her in his arms lingered like smoke through his thoughts.

  At dawn the next morning he found himself wide awake. G
rabbing his cane, he went for a walk. His thoughts were full of the fairy/woman. Over the weeks he’d sometimes feared he’d dreamed her up, but now he had the letter. He had proof. Now he could think about when he would find her.

  Two days later Sage mentioned she needed sewing supplies and, since it was a clear day, thought she’d ride over to Elmo’s place.

  Travis didn’t say a word at the breakfast table, but a half hour later, when Sage walked onto the porch, he handed her the letter.

  As he watched his sister ride off, he thought it was a long shot that R. would even get his letter. The mail service was poor on good days and nonexistent in bad weather. The letter would probably sit at Elmo’s place a week before someone picked it up. Then it would be days before it got from Austin to San Marcos. From there, it would wait in a general delivery slot with hundreds of letters never claimed. Even if she came in to check, there was a good chance she wouldn’t find his letter to her.

  By midafternoon he wished he’d never written. What if he frightened her by quoting the law? What if she thought he was angry or worse trying to lure her into a trap? And last . . . worst . . . what if she thought him a fool?

  If he’d been able to ride, he would have gone after the letter. He’d have stormed into Elmo’s store and demanded the thing back. But he couldn’t ride. The letter would go out, and maybe, just maybe, if he were lucky, it would not reach her.

  After several hours of sitting on the porch thinking about nothing important, he stormed back inside. Only he missed the rise in the doorframe and stumbled into the hallway, tripped over a rug, and fell headfirst. He spent the rest of that day and the next in bed, silently cussing himself and fanning away Sage and Martha every time they wanted to poke at the egg-sized knot on his forehead.

  Martha said he probably had brain damage, but Travis knew it was too late.

  He’d already mailed the letter.

  CHAPTER 13

  RAINEY WAS ELBOW DEEP IN BLUEBERRY PIES AND laughing with Pearl when Owen returned from his deliveries to the south. He grinned and held a letter up so that she could see it, then slipped it into the pocket of her coat hanging by the door. “You got mail, Miss Rainey, all the way from a place called Whispering Mountain.”

  “Thanks, Owen.” She fought the urge to wash up and run to the letter. But in the three weeks since she’d started making pies, the orders had doubled every week. “I’ve got a sample of that blackberry pie cooling, if you want to taste it and see if you think it will sell.”

  “Oh, it will sell, just like they all do.” Owen smiled. “You’ll fatten me up, but . . . I know you need someone to judge the product, so I’m afraid I have to sacrifice myself.”

  Rainey giggled. She’d learned to love Owen’s sense of humor. He might not be the most handsome man in the world, but he was a hard worker and a good husband and father. She’d seen him work all day loading and unloading wagons, then come in and lift Jason off Pearl’s lap so she could rest a while.

  “You can read the letter.” Pearl laughed. “I’ll cut the pie.”

  Rainey shook her head. “I’ve waited over two weeks. I can wait a little longer. These pies are promised as soon as they cool.”

  Pearl sat little Jason on the floor and cut her husband a piece of the still-warm pie. “I was just talking to Rainey, dear. She says she’s going to be late cleaning up tonight and would be happy to feed the baby and watch him if you’ve a mind to take your wife out to eat at one of the hotel restaurants.”

  Rainey turned back to her pies and grinned. She knew Pearl had been practicing just how to ask Owen to take her out and had managed it with such casualness it surprised Rainey. She glanced over her shoulder to watch this plain couple interact.

  He winked and took Pearl’s hand in his as she passed him the saucer of pie. “You mean a real evening out with my favorite girl? I’ve waited a long time for this.”

  Pearl looked younger. “We could walk along the main street after dinner like we had nothing to do but stroll. We might even walk over to where they’re building the governor’s mansion and get a few pointers for when we build our house someday.”

  Owen nodded as if her suggestion made perfect sense.

  Rainey had seen how hard they both worked, all day in the store and then stocking well into the night. On days Owen traveled he often left before dawn, and she’d watched Pearl do laundry on the back porch after the baby was asleep. The baby’s rags looked ghostlike blowing in the cold night breeze.

  Owen glanced at Rainey. “You sure you don’t mind staying?”

  “I’d love to. After I deliver these pies, I’ll come back and feed Jason, then catch up on my books. Take as long as you like.”

  It was settled, and two hours later, when Rainey returned to the store after finishing all her deliveries, the front was locked up for the night. Owen and Pearl were dressed in clothes Rainey felt sure they hadn’t worn since their wedding.

  While Owen pulled the wagon around, Pearl whispered, “This is our first time to step out. I was too afraid to at first, this being a strange town and all, then I was pregnant and didn’t think it would be right.”

  “But what about before you married?”

  Pearl’s cheeks blushed. “I came as part of what Owen calls the Baptist Brides from North Carolina. Our little church had several old maids like myself, so our preacher wrote a preacher he knew here in Austin. The reverend here saw it as a way of increasing his congregation, so he agreed to welcome us. Seven of us want-to-be brides rolled into town in the worst storm you’ve ever seen and went to Sunday service with our hair wet and our skirts caked in mud. I swear the streets were rivers that morning, and I was asking myself just what had I gotten myself into. I was alone back in North Carolina, no family left, but starving back there looked better than drowning in mud here.”

  She peeked around to see if Owen was coming, then added, “After the service the preacher asked all single men to stay for coffee. I was almost a head taller than all the other women and most of the men who stayed. The others were spoken for almost immediately, and I was still standing there by the preacher.”

  Pearl lifted her chin, but Rainey could see in her eyes how frightened she must have been. “I was gripping the Bible my ma gave me the day I was washed-in-the-blood so hard, I broke the spine. I just knew I’d be walking back to the wagon alone and returning to North Carolina with my hope chest and no hope of ever marrying.”

  Rainey remembered how she’d felt at the fancy dances when all the other girls in their pretty dresses danced and she sat, in her serviceable gray, watching. She wanted to hug Pearl.

  The tall woman smiled suddenly. “Owen pushed his way through the crowd of men. He walked right up to me. He was dripping wet and hadn’t shaved in days. I found out later he’d ridden all the way from San Antonio in the storm to be there. He held out his hand all right and proper like. He says, ‘I’m looking for a wife and would be honored if you’d consider pairing up with me for the rest of this life.’ ”

  “And you said yes?” Rainey found the story unbelievable. “But how did you know?”

  “I didn’t. I straightened to my full height and looked him straight in the eye. I asked him right there in front of everyone why he was offering for me.”

  Rainey walked with her to the open door. “What did he say?”

  Pearl lowered her voice. “He said because I was a true beauty, and if the others couldn’t see it, that was their loss. I told him he was blind as a bat but that I had no objections to marrying a blind man.” She blushed and smiled. “He wiggled his eyebrows and made me laugh. Then, like I’d done it all my life, I took his hand.”

  Rainey watched the tall gangly woman hurry out the door as the wagon pulled around the corner. Pearl was right, Owen must have been blind, but after weeks of knowing Pearl, Rainey also knew that Owen had found the true beauty that night.

  He climbed down and helped her in the wagon as if she were a small dainty woman who might need his assistance.

>   Closing the door, Rainey looked at all she had to do in the next hour. Her pots and pans were stacked in the kitchen, and she had to record all of the sales before she forgot. Tonight, if she was lucky, her books would show a profit. She glanced at the corner shelf Owen had built her. She had twenty pounds of flour and sugar paid for as well as pans enough to make new pies before she had to pick up the used pans. In the past two weeks she’d bought all her supplies in advance and a toy for Jason with money left after she’d paid Mrs. Vivian.

  Pearl told her the inventory was finally flush, and she’d see more money coming in from now on.

  Her business had been good for Owen as well. She not only was a steady customer, catering her cooking around what fruit he took in trade, but a few people were coming in to buy her pies who normally didn’t shop at his store. She made the money on the pies, and he made it on all else they bought. He’d started a shelf on the counter to display the pies. It had glass around all sides so she didn’t have to worry about flies.

  Halfway through her cleanup little Jason decided he had to be fed. He’d started eating soft foods, but most of it ended up on him or the floor. She couldn’t help but laugh as she fed him. She’d never been around a baby, and he must have sensed her fear. For him mealtime was playtime, but she managed to get down half a cup of stew and crackers before he fell asleep still chewing.

  She washed his face and hands and put him in the box that was his crib. Rainey didn’t allow herself time to dwell on the fact that most women her age had babies of their own to care about. She had work to finish and no time to dream of a life she’d never have. After an hour she lit a small lamp in the corner of the one-room apartment and went to work on her books. The letter in her coat pocket kept calling to her, but she wanted to read it when she could give it all her attention. For now, knowing he’d written was enough pleasure.

  She was almost asleep with the pen still in her hand when Pearl and Owen returned. They came in laughing softly and holding hands. Owen offered to walk her home, but Rainey could tell they wanted to be alone, so she grabbed her cape, put on her shoes, and hurried out saying she’d be fine.