Paxton and the Lone Star (20 page)

Elizabeth smiled skeptically. “I'd probably step on your feet.”

“Never you mind that. I step on them myself.”

They'd talked a good deal during the last two weeks. Elizabeth still wasn't sure exactly what she felt about True, especially in the face of his obvious desire for her. At one moment, recognizing that she needed him, she feared becoming too dependent on him and rejected his company. At another, attracted to him in spite of the constant warnings she gave herself, she welcomed his proximity. “I … I'd better check on Mother first,” she finally said.

True reached out and untied the leather throng holding her hair away from her face. Golden curls spilled around her shoulders and neck. “I'll wait right here,” he said. “Don't take too long.”

“I won't.”

The lantern inside the wagon was turned down. Hester lay on her pallet, as she had for the past three weeks. “Mother?” Elizabeth said, entering. “Are you awake?”

There was no answer. Quickly, Elizabeth opened the trunk, pulled out her yellow dress and good shoes. “There's dancing,” she said, stripping off her work shirt and trousers. “You'd enjoy watching. Everyone is having so much fun and the fresh air would do you good.” Chattering more gaily then she felt in light of her mother's despondency, Elizabeth dressed. “It'll be so much better next week. Open ground, Mr. Jones says. We'll be able to see the sky again. Every day! Won't that be nice? And in another three weeks we'll be in San Antonio.” She laughed, falsely but brightly. “You'll see then how silly you're being, Mama. And you'll feel better, too. Why, you'll simply have to! Especially when you see our land. Won't that be a marvelous Christmas present? I know you'll love it. We all will!” Ready, she knelt and smoothed Hester's brow. “I'll be nearby if you need anything. I'm going to dance with True. He's very nice, Mama. I think I like him a great deal, did you know that? I wish you could watch us dance.”

Still, Hester didn't move. Elizabeth adjusted her mother's blanket and quietly crawled out of the wagon. True was waiting for her as he'd promised. “Well!” he said, obviously approving the change. “You're beautiful.” He glanced toward the wagon. “She doing any better?”

“I wish I knew what to say to her,” Elizabeth said, worried. “She just lies there. And doesn't eat enough to keep a bird alive.”

“We'll be in San Antonio soon. She'll snap out of it then.”

“I hope so. I keep telling myself that—”

“In the meantime, you, my lady, need to snap out of it yourself.” He took her hand, led her toward the firelight. “C'mon. A smile will do you good. Best medicine for melancholy I know.”

And so it was. Mila's accordian squealed a sprightly tune, accompanied by Buckland on the jew's harp and Hogjaw Leakey beating the rhythm with a pair of horseshoes on a wheel rim. Arm in arm, feet flying, they spun round and round, two-stepping to a polka. “Step to it, yonkers, step to it!” Hogjaw yelled.

Little Tommy Matlan danced by with Ruthie Campbell in tow. The Thatches cut their pace in half in deference to Mildred's condition. Nels and Eustacia found themselves in a contest with Scott and Joan. In the midst of it all, Thaddeus let out a Comanche war whoop and jumped in with an ungainly hop and side kick. Leaping high in the air, he slapped his beaver hat against his thigh, came down, and twirled about madly before leaping again. The gaiety was infectious. Elizabeth felt her heart pumping wildly. Faces skidded past in a blur. Laughter rose in her throat. For the moment, there was neither fear nor loneliness, only the firm, joyful pressure of True's hands holding hers, the strength that flowed from him to her, and an overwhelming sense of well-being.

And then, suddenly, the music stopped. His face furrowed with worry as he looked past her, True froze. Elizabeth turned around, saw the trouble, and knew exactly what had happened because she had seen it happen before. Never content in a relationship until she had become the object of a quarrel, Lottie had been lavishing attention on Dennis Campbell throughout the evening. Her intent, of course, had been to make Joseph jealous, and she had succeeded. Tired of being ignored, Joseph had cut in between her and Dennis and claimed his turn to dance. Hurriedly trying to stop them before they came to blows, Elizabeth started forward, only to find herself spun about by True and propelled toward the periphery of the group.

“I'll take my turn with her now,” Joseph said, reaching for Lottie.

“The hell you say, Paxton,” Dennis said, pushing Lottie behind him. “You've let us know you're the lord of the manor back in Carolina, but here you're no better than anyone else. Lottie's begun this dance with me, and by God she'll end it with me.
And
have another,” he finished belligerently.

“Lads! …” Scott called, hurrying toward his son and Joseph.

“Boys, boys!” Reverend Kania waved his arms helplessly. “Please, this is a festive gathering.”

“I said I'll have my turn!” Joseph roared, his anger fueled by Jack Kemper's whiskey. “And by God yourself, this farce is over!” Without warning, he grabbed Dennis by the shirt and threw him aside. “Get away from her!”

Taken by surprise, Dennis flew backward, tripped over a log, and fell heavily, his head slapping the dirt with a dull thud. At the same time, his brother Mackenzie charged through the circle of onlookers and buried his shoulder in Joseph's midsection. Joseph grunted and went down. “Sonofabitch!” Mackenzie swore. “C'mon. Get up so I can knock you down again!”

The women screamed and ran for the wagons. Kevin Thatche led his pregnant wife to safety. Nels Matlan stood in front of Eustacia to keep her from harm. Scott Campbell moved to stop the fight, but Hogjaw restrained him. “It's a fair fight so far,” he said. “Best let 'em get it out of their system.”

Pale and gasping for breath, Joseph pushed himself to his feet. Mackenzie feinted with a left and threw a looping right that sailed over Joseph's head, then dropped unconscious as Joseph caught him on the side of the head with a forearm.

“Okay. Fight's over, boys,” Hogjaw announced. “Why don't you all—”

“No it ain't,” Dennis said, stepping over his brother and brandishing a length of firewood.

His eyes narrowing, Joseph slipped his knife from its scabbard and, crouching, stepped back and waited for an opening.

It was no longer a fair fight, no longer a question of a mere lump or two. Realizing the situation had to be defused before it was too late, True grabbed Hogjaw's rifle from where it stood propped next to the fire and fired into the ground between Joseph and Dennis. Dirt flew into the air, and the startled antagonists turned in the direction of the shot. “Man said the fight was over,” True said, his voice uncommonly loud in the ringing silence. “Scott. Reverend. Step in front of them.”

Scott hurried to his son's side and took the club. Buckland Kania moved as quickly to Joseph and held out his hand for the knife. Joseph stared sullenly at True, glanced around the circle of faces and focused on Lottie, who stood to one side, her hand to her mouth. “I keep my knife,” he said quietly, ignoring the minister's outstretched hand and sheathing the broad blade.

Thaddeus Jones walked forward and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Long day today and plenty to do tomorrow,” he announced. “Best pack it in for the night, I suspect.”

No one had any better idea under the circumstances. Joan Campbell led Ruthie and Dianne off to their wagon. Eyes wide, Tommy Matlan circled Joseph at a safe distance and ran to his mother. True tossed the rifle to Hogjaw. The mountain man caught it in a massive fist and, with an approving nod in True's direction, began immediately to reload. “We need to talk,” True said, catching up with Elizabeth before she'd gone too far.

“About what?” Elizabeth snapped, turning on him. “Your brother or my sister?”

“Don't blame me, damn it,” True answered, grabbing her arm. “I'm not the one who started that fight. I'm the one who ended it, remember?”

Elizabeth glared at him, almost spat a rejoinder, but at last lowered her eyes. “I'm sorry, True. It's catching, I guess.”

“Yeah.” He touched her arm and smiled ruefully. “Shouldn't've grabbed you like that. Look, we both need to calm down. Walk with me?”

“No,” she whispered. “Not tonight. I need to get back. Mother will be worried.” She searched his face for signs of anger, and when she saw none, smiled at him. “Tomorrow?”

“If you say so.”

“Goodnight, True.”

“Goodnight, Elizabeth.” He touched her cheek. “I love you.”

“I … I know.” The faint smell of gunpowder lingered on his hand. “Goodnight.”

Why couldn't she say it, she wondered, hurrying toward the wagon. Because she mistrusted all men so much that she couldn't love any man? Because she was afraid to admit her feelings yet? Because she wasn't totally sure of herself, and couldn't stand the thought of playing Lottie's game? Because her father still looked over her shoulder, because she could still feel his touch? That was a distinct possibility, she admitted bitterly, arriving at her wagon and looking around for her sister.

“Walking with True again?” Lottie asked with a smirk, emerging from the bushes where she had gone to relieve herself.

An answer wasn't required. Lottie was merely trying to sidestep the real issue. “I trust you're happy now,” Elizabeth said, seething with anger.

“I don't know what you're talking about and neither do you,” Lottie minced, miffed that her younger sister should take such a tone.

“Of course not.” Elizabeth stationed herself between Lottie and the rear of the wagon. “Well, congratulations anyway. You have them at each other's throats. I hope you're proud of yourself.”

“What I am is tired, Elizabeth. So if you don't mind, I'm going to bed.”

“Not until you hear what I have to say.”

“Will you please move so I can climb into the wagon?”

“No. You wanted them to fight. Just like back home. The Lottie Michaelson trial to test the mettle of her suitors and cull out the inferior ones. It makes you feel important, doesn't it? And tomorrow you'll be mooning once again over Joseph.”

“Move,” Lottie ordered, trying to shove past. But Elizabeth, though younger, was as tall as her sister and more than a match for her. She pushed Lottie back and stood her ground. “It has to stop, Lottie. Someone might have been hurt, even killed. And all because of your vanity.”

“Why don't you just mind your own business?”

“This
is
my business,” Elizabeth hissed. “I'm tired of being Loose Lottie Michaelson's sister and putting up with the stares and snide comments and innuendoes. Once we reach San Antonio and divide our land, you can prance about like a cow in heat all you want, but for right now, spare me, please! You might even help out some, or is that too much to ask of the spoiled hussy you've become?”

Her face a furious mask, Lottie started toward her sister, but then squealed and jumped back when a far more macabre visage appeared out of the shadows.

“Sound carries,” Hogjaw said laconically. “Especially whispers at this time of night. Everything all right?”

“How dare you sneak up on us like that!” Lottie exclaimed.

“Well, bein' as I'm supposed to be responsible for you, an' since I thought maybe I heared a cat fight, I figured I ought to just make sure nothin' was amiss.” Hogjaw smiled amiably. “Of course, if I'm buttin' in where I'm not wanted …”

“You aren't, Hogjaw,” Elizabeth said, secretly grateful for the interruption. “Thank you for your concern.”

“Think nothin' of it, ma'am,” he said, doffing his hat and melting into the shadows. His voice drifted back to them from the trees. “Nothin' of it at all. You gals sleep tight, now. 'Night.”

“Well?” Elizabeth asked, once his footsteps faded and they were left alone.

“I'll check on Mother,” Lottie said.

“Throw me out my shirt and pants and a blanket.” Elizabeth yawned. “I'll sleep under the wagon.”

“If you want.”

The sounds of night. Crickets and other, unnamed insects, strange to those from so far away. A creaking wagon spring, the flap of convas falling closed. A muffled goodnight, a child asking for a blanket. A loud yawn and the first tentative snore. Down among the willows, True walked the rope corral, tightened a knot here, adjusted the height there, then ducked inside to check the animals. The dark shadows moved about like ghosts, now and again nudging him or moving away to go about the business of cropping the thick, sweet grass that tasted so good after the miles of forest. He stopped last at Firetail, stood by his side, and gazed up at the stars. “You're one hell of a horse,” he finally said, scratching the stallion's ears when Firetail lowered his head and pushed against True's chest. “A lousy substitute, but a hell of a horse.”

“That you, True?”

It was Joseph's voice—sober now, from the sound of it. “Yo,” True answered softly.

Joseph threaded his way through the animals to stand next to him. “Problems?”

“Naw. Better safe than sorry, is all. Thought I'd look them over before I turned in.” He nodded toward the opposite side of the corral. “Jones is sleeping over there. I told him I'd take this side.”

“Good idea.” Joseph paused awkwardly. “True?”

True knew his brother well, knew what was coming next. “Yeah.”

“We're brothers, right?”

“Of course.”

“And blood runs thick between kin.”

“So they say.”

“You should've sided with me, True. Not gone against me like that in front of the others.”

“I didn't go against you. I went against someone getting killed over a tease. She egged you on, Joseph.”