Dashing Druid (Texas Druids) (2 page)

Quickly peeling off her filthy garments, she washed herself clean, then scrubbed the remaining mud from her clothes and draped them over a low-hanging tree branch. Even in the afternoon heat, it would take them a while to dry, so she might as well relax. Releasing her long hair from its confining braid, she shook it out and slipped into the cool water. She sighed with pleasure as she lay back and floated on the gentle current. Closing her eyes against sunlight filtering through the leafy canopy above, she let her thoughts drift back to her encounter with Jessie Taylor’s brother.

“No-account Irishman!” she grumbled. “He had no call to poke fun at me just cuz I ain’t all dainty ’n pretty like his pale-faced sister.” With her fiery hair, ivory skin and curvaceous figure, Jessie was everything that Lil was not. “She’s not a skinny tomboy who doesn’t know how to be a woman,” she sneered, bitterly repeating the insult David Taylor had once hurled at her. His words still cut like a knife.

“Fool!” she hissed, recalling the day she’d tracked him down to speak her peace after he’d finally returned home two years ago, with a Yankee bride. She shouldn’t have let him see how much he’d hurt her, but her pain and anger had busted loose like a stampeding herd. She might as well have been fourteen again, learning he’d run off to fight for the
Union
without even telling her good-bye. Mercy, how she’d cried over him back then!

For years afterward, she had told herself that if only she’d had time to finish growing up, if the war hadn’t come along,
she
would’ve been David’s wife. She’d secretly prayed that he would return for her someday. But he’d set her straight about that, hadn’t he – after she punched him in the jaw. She’d tried to scratch his eyes out, too, before he trapped her hands. Just as furious as she was by then, he’d told her bluntly that he never would have married her. He’d never loved her, had never seen her as more than a friend.

Neither had any other man over the years, leastways
none
she could abide. And she didn’t expect any miracles now, at her age. Come September, she’d be twenty-seven. She was an old maid, bound to go through life alone.

She sighed heavily. David was
right,
she didn’t know how to be a woman. Most of the time she wore britches and did a man’s job, but even in skirts she wasn’t the kind of female men hankered after. She wasn’t much for cooking and sewing, she didn’t like fussing with her hair and hated wearing a corset. And she refused to simper and flutter her eyelashes like a brainless ninny to attract a man. The very idea disgusted her.

Of course it didn’t help that she’d turned out tall and lanky like her pa, taller than a lot of the men she knew. Besides that, her jaw was too square, her chin too strong and her nose, why, it actually had a tiny hook to it. And then there was her coppery skin, the reason David had nicknamed her “Little Red” when she was a bitty tyke. He’d always said it kind of fond like, but sometimes she wondered if he truly looked down on her for being a quarter Cherokee.

Sighing again, Lil ordered herself to let it go. If a man, any man, didn’t like her the way she was, he wasn’t worth having. Her roiling thoughts gradually slowed and her eyelids grew heavy. She ought to get out of the water before she fell asleep.

The next thing she knew, she awoke in a panic, sucking in water. After floundering for a second or two, she thrashed upward and broke the surface coughing. Planting her feet on the shallow creek bottom, she continued to cough and gasp for breath while fighting to push aside the veil of wet dark hair that blocked her vision.

Once she could breathe easily again, she waded from the creek on shaky legs, cursing her own stupidity. She’d nearly drowned herself, for
criminy’s
sake! Glancing at the sky, she noticed how far west the sun had moved. It was near suppertime. She needed to get home.

She took a moment to wring water from her hair, then grabbed her damp clothes off the tree branch and wiggled into them. After jamming her feet into her boots, she belted on her gun, thinking how glad she’d been to have it close at hand back at the mud wallow. Without it, gosh knows what that lying, honey-tongued Irishman might have tried. She knew from her mother’s stories that a woman didn’t necessarily have to be pretty to end up raped, maybe dead. Was Devlin the kind to force a woman? She didn’t know and didn’t care to find out.

Hastily finger-combing her damp hair, she slapped on her wide-brimmed hat and tramped over to where Major stood grazing on dry yellow grass. Once mounted and clear of the surrounding trees, she urged him into a gallop toward home.

* * *

Following the creek as directed, Tye eventually rounded a bend in the rolling landscape and spied his goal. He reined in his horse and gazed at the valley stretching out before him. In the distance sprawled a ranch house, barn and adjacent dwellings. This must be it, the River T. The buildings were constructed of logs and some kind of stone. With the tree-lined creek forming a dark backdrop, the scene made a pretty picture in the red hues of sunset.

Tye shifted in his saddle and grimaced, sore after his long, bone-jarring ride. He was no horseman, but then, the decrepit creature he rode wasn’t much of a horse. He’d be glad to climb off the animal and stand on his own two feet again. His stomach growled
,
reminding him he could also do with a meal.

He urged the horse forward one more time, keeping it to a walk. By the time he neared the barn, he’d been spotted by one of the ranch hands, who was now knocking on the door of the main house. His summons was soon answered, and another man stepped out onto the covered porch. Tye immediately recognized his tall, dark-haired brother-in-law. David must have recognized him also, because he turned and rushed back inside. Seconds later, he reappeared carrying a small child and pulling Jessie along in his wake.

By then, Tye had drawn to a halt. “Jessie!” he shouted, waving to her.

She froze, then shrieked at the top of her lungs, dashed down the porch steps and ran to meet him. Stiffly dismounting, he had barely enough time to note her pregnant condition and raise his arms to catch her before she launched herself at him.

“Tye,
mo deartháir!
Brother, are ye real? Or am I only dreaming of
ye
again?”

“Nay, you’re not dreaming. ’
Tis myself,
mavourneen
.
God, how I’ve missed ye,” he whispered thickly. Overflowing with feelings of joy, both hers and his own, he squeezed his eyes shut and returned her fierce hug. Then, afraid of hurting her, he set her back a step and eyed her rounded form. “You’ve gained a bit o’ weight, I see,” he teased.

She laughed and swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “More than six months worth,” she said, brushing a hand over her belly. She looked him over in turn and her lips quirked. “You’re looking very . . . dandyish, I must say.”

Making a face, he removed his derby. “Sure’n I’ve heard it put less politely,” he replied, brushing dust from the hat. “’Twould seem I’m a bit overdressed for this country.” He shrugged and shifted his gaze to Jessie’s husband as he walked up.

“Good to see you, Tye. Welcome to the River T,” David said, grinning and extending his hand. Perched in the crook of his other arm, a little girl with raven curls eyed Tye warily while chewing a chubby fist.

“Likewise, David, and glad I am to be here,” Tye replied, tugging off his glove and shaking hands with him. He picked up a sensation of sincere welcome from the other man, for which he was grateful. Then he winked at his niece. He’d looked forward to meeting her. She must be a year old now. “And hello to you, me lovely.”

Stepping to David’s side, Jessie gently tugged the child’s hand from her mouth. “Tye, this is our Nora. Nora, can ye say hello to your Uncle Tye?” she coaxed. As she did, her arm slipped around David’s waist and his free arm circled her shoulders.

Tye was glad to see their embrace. Remembering a time, not so long ago, when they had enjoyed antagonizing each other, he congratulated himself for the small part he’d played in bringing them together. He was also delighted by the tiny elf now shyly hiding her face against David’s shoulder.

“Nora, after Mam,” he said hoarsely. “She’d be happy.”

Jessie gave a wobbly smile and nodded as fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. “I only wish she could see her granddaughter.”

“Aye, so do I, love.”  Tye cleared his throat. “Well now, I knew about Mistress Nora and I’m happy to learn she’ll soon be having a wee companion. But I’m even more pleased to see her parents have mended their differences.”

Jessie exchanged a tender look with her husband.

“It took us a while,” David said, mouth curling, “but we finally figured out love makes bedding down a whole lot friendlier.”

“David! What a thing to say!” Jessie blurted. She tried to draw away, but he wouldn’t let her go, so she settled for glaring up at him, to which he merely grinned.

Tye chuckled. His sister hadn’t lost her temper.

She transferred her frown to him. “But I told
ye
about the new babe in my last letter, didn’t I? And by the way, why haven’t we heard from
ye
? I’ve been worried sick, ye great oaf.”

“Sorry, Sis.
I’m not much for letter writing,” he replied shamefaced. “And I fear I’ve missed some of yours, moving about as I did. Ye see, I –”

“Whoa,” David interrupted. “Sounds like this could take a while. Why don’t we go inside first, hmm?”

“Oh! I’m sorry for being so thoughtless!” Jessie exclaimed. Slipping away from David, she grasped Tye’s arm. “You’re tired and hungry, I’m sure. Come on, we’ll get ye fed and then you’ll tell us everything.”

Tye’s stomach growled at the prospect of food as Jessie and David escorted him to the house. They were met on the porch by a tall, gray-haired man who stood leaning on a cane. Jessie introduced him as Reece Taylor, David’s father, and he held out his hand to Tye.

“Glad to meet you, son.
Jessie’s spoken of you often.” The man’s grip was as firm as his son’s, his
hawklike
gaze just as penetrating and his welcome equally sincere.

“I hope she hasn’t painted too black a picture of me, sir,” Tye replied, grinning at Jessie, who made a face in return.

Reece Taylor chuckled. “Not a bit. But let’s not stand out here jawing. Come on in.” Holding the door open, he waved them inside.

They’d no more than walked in when Nora started to fuss.

“She’s tired,” Jessie said, taking her from David. Nora squealed unhappily, but Jessie crooned in her ear and patted her back, quickly settling her. “I’ll find Maria, our cook, and have her warm a plate for
ye
, Tye. Then I’d better put this crabby one to bed. Show him into the dining room, will ye please?” she requested of David.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied as she turned and walked away. Catching Tye’s amused glance, he asked, “Something funny?”

“Oh, I’m just wondering, does she have ye changing the little one’s nappies too?”

Smiling wryly, David slapped him on the back. “Just wait. Your time will come, my friend.”

CHAPTER TWO

Lil arrived home near dusk. Knowing her mother would soon have supper on the table, she rode directly to the barn, unsaddled Major and gave him a quick rubdown. “I’ll give you an extra long one tomorrow night, boy,” she promised. With a pat on his rump, she turned him out into the corral.

As she strode to the house, she wondered if Devlin had made it to the River T and if Jessie was glad to see him. Thinking of her own brother, Toby, she suffered a familiar burst of sadness because she’d never see him again. With envy, she pictured the other woman hugging her brother on the porch of the Taylors’ fancy new house.

Her own home wasn’t nearly so grand. Pa and Uncle Jeb had built the original dogtrot cabin out of rough, hand hewn logs chinked with sticks and clay. Over the years, they’d added lean-tos off the back, enclosed part of the dogtrot and, lastly, built an upper story with sawn boards. The result looked kind of patched together, Lil had to admit, but it was sturdy and comfortable. And it was home.

When she walked in the door, she glanced left to where her father and uncle were already seated at the kitchen table. Her pa, Del, sat at the head; Uncle Jeb was to his right with his back to the door. Lil’s mother, Rebecca, was just setting a meat platter on the table. Short and plump, with silver-streaked black braids coiled at her nape, she wore a bibbed white apron over her yellow calico wrapper, a loose style practical in the summer heat. With her copper skin standing out against the bright colored garment, she looked like a sunflower, Lil thought affectionately.

“Evenin’. Sorry I’m late,” she said, mouth watering at the aroma of roast pork as she unbuckled her gun belt. Ma frowned on guns at the table.

Uncle Jeb swiveled in his chair and smiled at her, his lean face creased in a dozen places. “Evenin’, honey,” he replied.

“We about gave up on you,” Pa said crossly. Older than Jeb, his weathered face bore even more creases, although his droopy gray mustache disguised some of them. “Had a swim, did you?” he asked, eyeing her unbound hair.

“Yeah, the creek’s low but it’s nice and cool,” she replied, hanging her artillery on a peg by the door.

“Is that why you are so late?” her mother asked with a stern glance. As she spoke, she set a plate of baked yams and a bowl of stewed tomatoes and okra next to the meat platter.

Lil shrugged. “I hauled a calf out of a mud wallow. Had to clean up afterward.” She didn’t mention her run-in with Devlin, not wanting to cause trouble. “I stayed to swim a while.”

“Mmm, and paid no attention to the sun. Wash your hands quick before the food gets cold,” Ma ordered, adding cornbread to the spread.

“Yes ma’am.” Lil smothered a burst of irritation as she stepped to the washstand, telling herself she must be respectful. Durn it, though, she got tired of being scolded and bossed around as if she were a child. Nevertheless, she hastily washed and dried her hands.

As she crossed to her chair and settled opposite Uncle Jeb, Ma sat with her hands folded in her lap, waiting patiently. Across from her, Pa drummed his fingers on the flour-sack tablecloth and frowned. Patience was not his best virtue.

Lil smiled at her uncle, and he winked good-naturedly. A confirmed bachelor with no children of his own, Jeb always had a smile for her, even when her parents didn’t. He was the easygoing one in the family. Too bad she wasn’t more like him, she thought, dutifully bowing her head.

“Thank you, Lord, for the food before us,” Ma solemnly began. Baptized by a Methodist preacher who’d passed through here several years ago, she studied her Bible each night and said grace before every meal. After more words of thanks, she ended with, “And God bless Toby. Amen.”

Ma never forgot to include Toby in her prayers. He’d died fighting for the Confederacy, and she’d never gotten over losing him. None of them had. That’s why David Taylor’s wearing of the blue cut so deep. He and Toby had been best friends before the war. They should have fought side by side.

No! They shouldn’t have had to fight at all. They should have been here at home, herding cattle and blowing off steam in town on Saturday nights. Damn the war! Lil hated both sides, North and South, for taking Toby
and
David away from her.

Realizing she’d clenched her fists, she relaxed them and took a square of warm cornbread before handing the plate to her father. She calmly helped herself as the other dishes were passed around, but inside she was still riled. She had Jessie’s brother to thank for that. He’d started her fretting over old hurts again, and wondering. What if Toby were here with them now? How different would things be? How different would
she
be if she hadn’t felt she had to take his place for her folks’ sake? Not that she ever really could. Nobody could.

“Did you make up your mind yet, Del, about Taylor’s offer?” Jeb asked, drawing Lil’s attention as she sliced her meat. “Seems like a mighty fine idea to me.”

Lil glanced at her mother, seeing her mouth tighten at the mention of David. Then she shifted her gaze to her father. Recently, David had asked him and Jeb to consider combining herds for the trail drive north next spring. Jeb, who was half owner of the Double C, thought it made good sense because they’d be able to share expenses with the Taylors. However, Lil knew it didn’t set well with her father.

He swallowed a bite of food and glowered at Jeb. “I told you I need time to think. I’m not so all-fired anxious to throw in with that Yankee lover as you are. ’Sides, there’s no rush. Spring’s a long way off.”

Jeb shrugged. “Yeah, but we need to plan ahead. And with the market so chancy, I don’t see any other choice. We’re barely hanging on here. Another bad year, and we’re liable to lose the ranch.”

His warning sent a cold chill down Lil’s spine. “I think Uncle Jeb’s right, Pa,” she put in.

“Oh, you do, do you?” Pa barked, angry color staining his face.

“Yeah, I do. I don’t want us to lose our home. David’s done a good job of managing the River T since he came home. If he thinks combining herds is the thing to do, I reckon we oughta listen.”

Pa’s face turned even redder. “Have you forgotten what he did to you and how he turned against his own pa? Against all of us, including your brother?”

Lil winced. “I haven’t forgotten. And I miss Toby just as much as you and Ma do.” She glanced at her mother, meeting her cold stare, and swallowed hard. “But I know he wouldn’t want us to lose the Double C.”

“You do not know what your brother would wish,” her mother said in a razor-edged tone, before Pa could reply. “Eat and let the men talk.”

“I’ve got a right to –”

“Enough! It is their decision to make, not yours.”

Lil knew from her mother’s furious black glare that it would do no good to argue. But she refused to sit here and bite her tongue. “Fine,” she gritted. Shoving away from the table, she rose and strode to the door.

“Get back here and eat your supper, gal!” Pa shouted.

Ignoring him, she stormed out of the house and stomped off toward the barn. Although it was full dark now, a three-quarter moon lighted her path.

I work as hard as any of the men, but I’ve got no say in how the ranch is run. All because I’m a woman,
she fumed.

Frustration gnawed at her belly as she jerked the barn door open. Humid, animal-scented air enveloped her. Shutting the door behind her, she found the ladder without lighting a lantern and climbed to the loft. Once there, she mounded up a pile of hay and settled in for the night. She’d rather sleep here than be anywhere near her mother and father right now.

Not wanting to rehash her argument with them, Lil let her thoughts drift. Unbidden, Devlin came to mind. She pictured his flashing grin and those impudent blue eyes that had seemed to look straight into her. She snorted in annoyance. Enchanted by her beauty, was he? Liar!

So why waste time thinking about him? The answer struck her like a fist to her stomach. She wanted to believe his lies. She wanted to believe a handsome man might find her beautiful. Jumpin’ Jehosaphat! Didn’t she know better? Hadn’t her heartbreak over David taught her anything?

Forget Devlin! He’s nothing to you and he never will be.

* * *

With his hunger well sated, Tye attempted to relax on the parlor sofa and ignore the unfamiliar aches caused by hours of bouncing around on a horse. Hoping to dull his discomfort, he gulped a healthy swallow of the whiskey provided by his brother-in-law, savoring its well-aged flavor.  Across from him, seated in hide-covered chairs placed at opposite sides of a massive stone fireplace, David and Reece sipped their drinks more slowly. Reece sat with his stiff right leg propped on a footrest.

Tye took another, slower swallow, studying the two men over the rim of his glass. They shared the same strong features, although Reece’s were timeworn, and they both wore sturdy dark pants, a cotton work shirt and scuffed cowboy boots, as did most Texans Tye had encountered. A style he’d have done well to adopt, he thought ruefully.

Also keeping them company, if he could call it that, was a little white-haired woman. David had introduced her as Anna Howard, but she hadn’t so much as glanced at him. Ensconced in a rocker near Reece, she hummed a tuneless song and rocked slowly back and forth, oblivious of everyone and everything.

David satisfied his curiosity, explaining, “Anna’s been with us for more than twenty years. She did the cooking before Maria. Until the night we were raided and the house burned.”

Tye stared at him in alarm. “Burned, did ye say?”

“Mmm, it happened a few months after Jessie and I came home. I was afraid it would bring back Jessie’s nightmares, but she hasn’t had a one.”

“Saints be praised for that,” Tye muttered. Three years ago, he and his sister had lived through the Chicago Fire along with their father, and for months afterward Jessie had awakened screaming in the night. “She never mentioned any of this in her letters.”

“Didn’t want to worry you, I expect.” David shrugged. “Anyhow, one of the raiders knocked Anna senseless. We don’t know if it was the blow or being scared out of her wits, but it did something to her mind. She’s been this way ever since.”

“Poor woman. God bless her.” Tye couldn’t comprehend how even the meanest of men could strike a frail old lady. Glancing around the room, he realized every article, from the sofa and braided rug to the bright colored Indian blanket hanging on the wall, must be as new as the house itself. “Was it an Indian raid?” he asked.

“No, outlaws. The bastard who led them was . . . .” David broke off at the sound of Jessie’s heels clicking in the hallway. “I’ll explain some other time,” he added in an undertone.

Tye nodded and took a swig of whiskey, needing it just then. “Ah, that’s smooth,” he said as his sister walked in. “A far cry from the chain lightning they serve in the mining camps.”

“And just where are these mining camps?” Jessie asked, lowering her bulky form onto the sofa next to him.

“You all right, darlin’?” David asked before Tye could reply. His worried gaze examined Jessie’s flushed face.

“I’m fine, just hot from rocking Nora,” she replied. Wrinkling her nose, she plucked at the bodice of her loosely pleated cotton gown. Then she folded her hands over her belly and peered at Tye. “Well, are ye going to say where you’ve been keeping yourself?”

“Colorado, of late,” he replied. Avoiding her gaze, he downed the last of his whiskey and took his time setting the glass on a small table beside him. “I left Utah almost a year ago, explaining why some of your letters never reached me. Thank heaven I got the first few, or I’d never have found ye in this great huge state.”

“Aye, I’m thankful for that myself. But tell us, did ye have any luck prospecting in Colorado?”