Jodi Thomas - WM 1 Page 7

  Travis focused. The Apache wasn’t young, maybe forty. He favored his left side as he walked and a deep scar crossed his forehead. Travis couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in his life that had made him leave his people and band with the outlaws.

  He watched closer. The Apache’s face was hard, his brown eyes cold, dead inside.

  His eyes!

  Travis felt the realization like a physical slap. If he were staring at the Apache’s eyes, the Apache had spotted him.

  Travis didn’t bother to crawl away. He stood and ran.

  A shot rang out as he reached his horse, another followed. A fiery bullet sliced into his leg like a knife made of lava.

  He kicked the horse into full speed and shot out of range. Within seconds he heard the thunder of horses behind him. It crossed his mind to lead the outlaws away from the wagons, but he knew they’d just double back and attack. If they got there before he could, he wouldn’t be able to help the Germans fight. There was a good chance some of the men weren’t fully armed, for he’d noticed several cleaning guns a moment before he ran. The Germans would have a better chance if he forced the battle now.

  Travis hit the circle of wagons at full speed. His horse thundered inside as the Germans pulled the opening closed. They’d spent the hour he’d been gone building a blockade with trunks and boxes. Before he could rein in his horse, the children disappeared into wagons and the men raised their weapons. There was no problem with language; they all seemed to understand the danger.

  Pulling his rifle, Travis slid from his horse, surprised when his left leg wouldn’t hold his weight. Hopping, he made it to the barrels of water stacked almost shoulder high. A cloud of dust rode directly toward him.

  Lifting his weapon, he waited for the outlaws to come into range. With his rifles he could take down two. There would be no time to reload. He’d have to pull his Colts.

  He counted twelve men riding toward them, guns ready. The Apache weren’t just scouts; they were part of the gang. Travis held his weapon steady. For the first time in his life he’d be firing at his mother’s people.

  If he were lucky, he’d get four before the band hit the wagons. Then it would be hand-to-hand fighting. The Germans weren’t fighters. They’d waste most of their shots, firing too early, taking too much time to aim. He glanced around. In truth none of them looked like they’d stand a chance against a seasoned fighter. Most would be cut down without ever striking a blow.

  If he could get four, maybe five before they broke the blockade, he’d fight the rest, he hoped one at a time. He touched his throbbing leg. Pain volted through him in lightning strikes the width of a heartbeat apart. Warm blood filled his hand and he swore.

  Travis straightened in resolution. He’d kill as many as he could before he lost too much blood to fight.

  Then, almost like a dream, he saw two men running from among the horses. Both were tall, powerful and fully armed. His brothers.

  They moved in and set up on either side of him, placing rifles and pistols within easy reach. His younger brother pulled out powder and bullets, lining everything up to reload fast.

  There was no time for questions. Travis smiled and raised his weapon. The odds had just gotten a great deal better.

  Their first volley took down three outlaws. Teagen passed Travis another rifle and they aimed in unison. The second round of fire took down another man.

  “You missed, little brother.” Teagen smiled as he tossed his rifle to Tobin for reloading.

  Travis grinned. “More likely the fellow has two bullets in him.” He raised his last loaded rifle and fired again. Another outlaw tumbled from his horse. Those left circled, unsure what to do.

  The McMurray brothers moved back while German men took their place. Travis leaned heavily on Teagen. “If they break through,” Travis said between clenched teeth, “take my Colt and knife. I’ve lost too much blood to be of any help in the fight.”

  Teagen was already tying a bandanna around Travis’s blood-soaked leg. “They won’t break through!” he yelled above the gunfire. “The farmers will see to it.”

  Travis tried to focus. His brother was right. The Germans were holding the outlaws off. They kept up constant firing with three shifts. “You . . .” He couldn’t get the words past the pain.

  His brothers spread out a bedroll and lay him down. While Tobin cut away the leg of his pants, Teagen said calmly, “We got here right after you left. I decided to help these folks turn their wagons into a fort, then we talked about how to fire against intruders.” He shrugged. “I figured you’d bring back more than a dozen.”

  Travis fought the pain. “There’s a kid tied up at the outlaw camp. Tell Ackland to send someone to get him. It’s due north.”

  “I’ll do that.” Teagen glanced at the Germans. “Doesn’t look like there will be enough outlaws left to return to camp.”

  Tobin stood, his face lined with panic, his hands red. “There’s so much blood. I can hardly find the wound. I’ll get water.” He passed Teagen the soaked bandanna. “Press this where his blood is pumping out.”

  Teagen pressed the leg wound with one hand and gripped Travis by the shoulder with his other. “Don’t worry, Travis. We’ll get you home alive.”

  Travis closed his eyes and sank into the blackness. Relax, he thought. He was safe; his brothers would keep their word.

  CHAPTER 7

  RAINEY WATCHED FROM THE PORCH OF THE MCMURRAY bunkhouse as two men on horseback moved toward the main house. They were both tall and lean with a way of handling their mounts more with their legs than the reins, informing Rainey they’d been born to ride. One led a third horse. As they neared, she could tell the extra animal pulled something behind him on long poles that scarred the ground.

  Slowly she crossed into the shadow of the barn for a closer view. She’d managed to stay on the ranch the past three days by being invisible most of the time. When she returned the horse she’d tried to steal at the dance, Rainey explained to Tobin McMurray that his brother Teagen had told her to bring the animal to the ranch. Before she could finish explaining, Tobin ran for the nearest horse. She danced around him, repeating all she’d heard at the trading post as he saddled up. A few minutes later the housekeeper tossed him a pouch of supplies when he rode past the house.

  “Take charge, Sage!” the brother called Tobin had yelled at a girl on the porch.

  Rainey stared at the young woman she’d seen with Travis at the barn dance. She and Sage were around the same height and age except the girl looked far more like a woman in her trousers and shirt than Rainey did. Sage also had an air about her, a pride in the way she stood—like she belonged to this time, this place.

  Rainey feared any pride she might have felt had long ago been beaten out of her by life. And she’d learned the hard way that she belonged nowhere.

  When Sage’s brother had ridden out of sight, she turned her questioning blue gaze to Rainey. “Who are you?” she asked, suspicion in her tone.

  “Sam, ma’am.” Rainey kept her voice and her hat low. “Mr. McMurray told me to bring the horse and wait for him here.”

  Sage didn’t look like she believed Rainey. “Which Mr. McMurray?”

  “The big one,” Rainey said before realizing that every man named McMurray she’d met had seemed a mountain. “I think I heard Old Elmo call him Teagen.”

  From that time on, Sage McMurray seemed to stop worrying about Rainey. “Martha,” the girl yelled, “find this kid something to do. I’m going to have my hands full until Teagen and Tobin get back.”

  Sage grabbed her hat and headed toward the barn, yelling at a few of the hands who’d stopped to see what was happening.

  To Rainey’s surprise the men followed Sage’s order.

  An old housekeeper stepped on the porch. She took one long look at Rainey and then met her eyes. Rainey had no doubt that Martha knew her secret, but to her surprise, the housekeeper didn’t say a word about it. She assigned Rainey to the bunkhouse cook and said si
mply, “You can sleep in the corner of the kitchen so you can be the first up to light the cook fires. There’s too much snoring in the bunkhouse for the likes of you.”

  Rainey thanked her and had a feeling her lie would be safe with Martha for a few days. She’d have somewhere to sleep and regular meals.

  But now that was about to end because the McMurray men were almost home. At least two of them were. There was no mistaking the riders now.

  Rainey strained her eyes trying to make out which of the McMurrays headed toward her. If one was Teagen, he might pay her a few dollars for bringing the horse back to the ranch. Tobin, the one she’d barely met, probably wouldn’t remember her. But if Travis returned, he would know her even dressed like a boy. Unless he was a lot dumber than she thought, he’d already figured out she stole the horse the night of the dance. Bad luck and bad news were two companions who’d followed her since the moment she’d stepped on the train to New Orleans.

  A shudder passed through her even though the day was warm. She couldn’t face Ranger Travis McMurray. She’d seen laughter in his dark eyes, and something more when they’d touched. She didn’t want to see the coldness again. No matter how he’d touched her, he’d still do his duty when they met again.

  Glancing around, she thought of running. With two men riding toward her, the odds were not good. Running didn’t seem much of an option. If she stole a horse from the ranch in daylight, someone was bound to notice and the only way out would be past the two men riding in.

  Sage stepped from the shadows and shielded her eyes as she also spotted the riders nearing. “Martha!” Sage yelled. “Martha. Someone’s hurt.”

  The housekeeper hurried onto the porch as the men grew close enough for them all to see that the riderless horse pulled a litter with someone covered in blankets.

  Sage broke into a run toward the men, but Martha only straightened like an old soldier hearing a battle call. As she swung around, her gaze caught Rainey hiding in the shadows. “Boy!” she yelled, one eyebrow raised to claim her lie. “Get in here and help me!”

  Rainey had no choice but to follow. The housekeeper issued orders in rapid fire as they moved through the house. “We’ll need water. Build the fire in the stove and haul in extra buckets.” She swung a large pot from beneath a cutting board table. “Fill this half full and get it to boiling as fast as you can. Once it boils, move it to the back of the stove and start another one. After that keep one boiling and one ready until I tell you to stop.” She faced Rainey. “If I need your help, can you handle the blood or even the sight of death if it comes to that?”

  Rainey nodded. Following orders seemed far better than just standing around panicking. She’d nursed sick students and cleaned up after them. Blood could be no worse. She’d also bathed her mother’s body and dressed her for the funeral. If she could do that alone, she felt sure she could do anything Martha asked of her.

  While Rainey scrambled to do everything at once, Martha piled medical supplies and cotton for bandages on a tray. Rainey couldn’t help but think that this ranch was well stocked and guessed there was no doctor near enough to send for or Martha would have already issued that order as well.

  When Rainey ran to the well for water, she saw the horses pull up a few feet from the back door. Teagen and Tobin, covered in a layer of dust, swung down. Tobin grabbed Sage and held her tightly as she cried while Teagen removed the blankets from the body lying on the litter.

  Rainey dropped an empty bucket as she recognized the Ranger’s black hair.

  Travis lay beneath dusty wool, his clothes looking as though they’d been soaked in blood.

  She moved a step closer, unable to resist. Travis was so still, she didn’t know if he was alive or dead. The smell of sweat and blood blended in the air, thick with death’s promise.

  Teagen’s big hand moved the hair back from his brother’s forehead. “We got him here as fast as we could, but I’m afraid a fever’s already set in. He’s burning up one minute and shaking with chills the next.”

  Sage shoved tears from her cheek and knelt in the dirt beside her brother. She took his hand in hers. “You’re home now, Travis. Everything is going to be all right.”

  No one looked like they believed her words.

  The brothers lifted Travis and carried him into the house.

  Rainey followed.

  “Put him in the library. I’ve already spread a blanket on the desk,” Martha ordered. “The afternoon light is best there for doing what I have to do. We’ll get him patched up and then decide if we take him upstairs, or bring down a bed.”

  No one argued.

  As they moved into the study, Rainey ran to get more water. She could do nothing for Travis, not with everyone around, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help. With her hat pulled low, she stayed in the kitchen and kept busy. Each time Martha returned for water, or more bandages, Rainey had them ready. She even made coffee and set out mugs before Martha thought to ask. When Sage appeared with clothes soaked in blood, Rainey silently took them from her and put them in cold water to soak on the porch. The day wore on as dread seeped through the work like a heavy cloud settling to earth.

  “How is he?” Rainey whispered to Sage, who stood in the middle of the room staring at her bloody hands.

  “He’s bad,” she finally managed to answer as tears streaked her face. “He’s real bad.”

  Rainey took a clean towel and soaked it in warm water, then wiped the blood off of Sage’s hands. “He’s alive,” she whispered. “That’s something.”

  Sage looked at her as if she didn’t understand Rainey’s words. “He’s a Ranger with a busted leg right at his hip. Even if he lives, Martha says he’ll limp. He may never ride. What kind of Ranger can he be?” She looked at Rainey as if daring her to find the lie in her words. “What can he do?” Sage swallowed hard. “He’ll wish he was dead when he finds out how bad it is.”

  Rainey stared at the floor. Part of her wanted to tell the girl that there was more to life than being a Ranger, but she wasn’t sure, for Travis, there could be. “I’m sorry,” she finally whispered.

  Sage patted Rainey’s arm as she wiped her eyes. “You’re a good boy. Thanks for your help.”

  Rainey watched as the youngest McMurray straightened. She’d aged in the past few hours. Sage was less a girl and more a woman now. She would do what had to be done.

  Long after dark, Rainey sat alone at the opening to the kitchen. Down the hall, she could hear the family talking about how long it had been since Travis moved. Martha turned in, saying she’d take the first shift of watching him in the morning. Teagen and Tobin looked dead on their feet, but still they waited. Sage, after pacing for hours, dozed in a chair by the door to the study.

  Rainey knew she should go. The bunkhouse cook would be yelling at her to help before dawn. But she decided to stay. Just a few more minutes. Just until there was some change in the Ranger.

  Travis’s brothers finally said good night to Sage and climbed the stairs. They’d slept in the saddle for two nights and were ready to find a bed.

  “Call us, Sage, if he wakes,” they both said several times.

  Sage nodded as she stretched and moved to the ladder-back chair in the small library. “I will,” she mumbled. “I’ll be fine here. You both get some rest.”

  An hour later Rainey handed Sage a cup of tea. “If you want”—Rainey forced her voice low—“I could sit with him a spell, and you could rest in that chair.” She pointed to where Sage had been sleeping earlier. “I’ll let you know if he so much as moves a finger.”

  Sage hesitated, then nodded and stood, too exhausted to argue. “Promise you’ll wake me if he seems in pain?”

  “Promise,” Rainey answered as she took the girl’s place beside the makeshift bed they’d made for Travis on the library desk.

  Before Rainey finished her own cup of tea, Sage was asleep just beyond the study door. The girl had spent her day crying until all her energy had flowed away. Rainey had held h
er own tears back. For her the work kept her going and her thoughts away from how near death Travis must be.

  Without taking her attention from Travis, Rainey removed her hat and scratched her scalp. She didn’t have to worry about falling asleep; she felt like she had fleas dancing in her hair to keep her fully awake. The damp curls tangled around her fingers as she wished for the hundredth time since she’d arrived that there was somewhere on this ranch where she could take a bath in peace. By pretending to be a boy, she couldn’t make use of the main house’s back porch every morning like the women did, and she wasn’t about to join the men in the bunkhouse kitchen on Saturday night.

  Rainey swore at herself for thinking about her own little problems while a man lay near death a foot away. Carefully she reached over and brushed his hair from his forehead. His hair was as straight as hers was curly. His forehead warm, too warm. She wet a rag and pressed it against his skin.

  Travis McMurray was one good-looking man. Dark tanned skin, high cheekbones, delicious mouth. He looked nothing like the few pale, thin men she’d known who taught at the school or the weathered and tattooed men onboard the ship between New Orleans and Galveston. Travis was handsome, strong . . . born of the wind and open sky, she thought.

  Rainey rolled her eyes. Maybe she should go back to thinking about fleas and bathing. What kind of woman was she to size up a dying man as if he were a hero in one of the novels she loved?

  Only months ago she’d been a very proper lady. A teacher at a fine girls’ school in Washington, D.C. She’d worn her hair in a tight bun, made sure her English was impeccable, always kept her gloves white. She’d once been afraid of what would happen if she made her father frown.

  She smiled, betting he hadn’t stopped frowning since he’d yelled for her to come down to work on Monday morning. Knowing him, he had yelled several times before he stormed up the stairs to her room and found her gone.

  He’d almost broken her spirit when he decided there was only one thing to do with an old maid daughter who thought she should be paid. Marry her off so she could work the rest of her life for no pay. He was so sure she would follow his order, as she had all her life, that he hadn’t even mentioned the match to her before putting the engagement announcement in the paper.