Rose (27 page)

“Probably not, but that choice won’t be yours. You have to be prepared to accept them no matter who they marry.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Well, you give it some thought on your way to Corpus Christi. You think about it while you’re talking to Mr. King. You think about it when you’re selling my sword, and you think about it while you’re buying that ring for Rose. You decide what’s more important to you—this family or your anger. You can even spend a few extra days in Austin if you need to be real sure. If you decide for the family, we’ll be only too happy to see you sleeping at the house once again. If not, you’d better send the ring.”

“Are you telling me to leave?”

“I’m telling you to make a choice. I’m not going to let you destroy this family.”

“You’re doing that with your Yankee wife.”

George thought Jeff’s words would make him mad, but thinking about Rose made it impossible for him to get angry.

“You should have been at the house yesterday. My
Yankee
wife gave Zac a birthday party. None of his brothers remembered his birthday. None of his brothers thought to bake a cake or buy him presents. Just my
Yankee
wife. She used the money we paid her to buy our brother chaps. Do you know how that made me feel?”

“Did he like them?”

“He didn’t come down to earth for hours. And you know what else my
Yankee
wife did? She made me take credit for buying them. By this time I was so disgusted with myself I could hardly hold my head up. The only thing Zac really wanted for his birthday, and I didn’t know.”

Jeff didn’t say anything.

“I’ve never seen that boy so happy. Monty and Hen started teasing him. Even Tyler seemed to enjoy it. All four of them ended up wrestling in one big knot on the floor. Have you been able to give the family an evening like that? I haven’t, but my Yankee wife did. People suffered on both sides during this war, Jeff. I know that won’t change what happened to you. It won’t bring Pa back either, but neither will remembering.”

“So if I don’t forget about this”—he waved his stub at George—“and Pa, and all the rest, I’d better go.”

George heaved a weary sigh. It seemed his words had no effect. But he couldn’t stop trying.

“None of us will forget the war, Jeff. It’ll always be part of us, but it’s only a part. As the years go by, that part will become smaller and easier to bear. But we’ve got to start now, when it’s hardest.”

“I can’t ever forget what her father did.”

“I didn’t ask you to forget it. Rose won’t. I just ask you not to hold it against her. You’ll never be welcomed into any man’s home if you can’t have respect for his wife.”

“Tell me you love her,” Jeff said, flaring up, all his anger distilled into his challenge. “I’ve never heard you say it. I don’t believe you can.”

“Would it change your mind about Rose?”

“It might. If you meant it. But I don’t believe you do.”

Hissing impatiently, George started to turn Jeff’s question aside. This wasn’t about him and Rose. But then maybe it was. He didn’t know. Jeff had asked the question. Maybe it would give him one of the answers he needed.

“I realized a few days ago I didn’t know what love was.”

“Ma worshiped Pa,” Jeff objected, indignant. “She was obsessed with him.”

“That’s one of the reasons I was so afraid of marriage. I loved Ma, but I didn’t want to marry anybody like her. To me love was helpless, suffocating, painful. It wasn’t until Rose came
that I realized that love was strong, that it meant standing up for yourself, saying things nobody wanted to hear. I also know it means giving of yourself because it makes somebody else happy. I don’t know if I love Rose. For a while I was sure I didn’t, but—”

“I knew it. I knew it!”

“—but now I’m not sure. I know I need her, that I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without her. Is that love? I think it’s part of it. I know I want her. She comforts my spirit and body as nothing ever has. That’s part of love, too. I also know I’m never as happy as I am when I’m with her.”

“You sound like you’re obsessed.”

“Maybe that’s also part of love. I don’t know, but I’m going to learn. It’s embarrassing sometimes. I feel like a child. But I learn a little something every day. It’s like a whole new way of living. It’s a willingness to give up control. To make a commitment and have faith it’ll work out.”

“It sounds like you’ve gone crazy,” Jeff said, scowling.

“Maybe that’s part of it, too. Whatever it is, it’s something I want more than I ever thought possible. And Rose is the only one who can teach me. I’m not giving her up, Jeff, no matter what it costs me.”

“Hell!” Jeff barked. “You are in love with her.”

George’s sixth sense saved them.

Rain threatened. The heavy, humid atmosphere seemed to unsettle the longhorns. Just as the men had finished for the day, a particularly wild steer broke through the fence taking most of the day’s gather with him. By the time they had located the herd and put a bullet through the head of the instigator,
it was too late to go back to the ranch. They had skinned the steer, cooked as much of the meat as they could eat, and wandered off to sleep, dead tired. They wanted to get as much rest as they could before they got wet.

Something woke George. It might have been the wind moaning through the trees. Or a splintering limb. It was too dark to see. Storm clouds obscured the moon. The only light came from the dying embers of the fire.

One of the dogs was awake, his head pointed downwind. He growled low in his throat. He looked toward Monty, whined uneasily, then looked back into the night. He growled again.

George didn’t know how he knew they were about to be attacked. He just did. Reaching for his gun, he fired into the blackness.

“Someone’s coming at us from the creek!” he shouted to his sleeping crew.

The raiders came with a rush, riding their mules and scrub ponies through the center of camp and firing indiscriminately.

The crew scrambled out of their beds, desperately trying to reach any cover they could find. By the time they found their weapons, the raiders were gone. It was impossible to tell how many there were. They wore dark clothes and must have blackened their faces.

The attackers rode straight through to the Mexican camp about fifty yards away.

The raiders found no one at the camp. The
vaqueros
were as adept at disappearing into the brush as the longhorns. George could hear the noise of a wagon being overturned, crockery breaking, metal clanging noisily against metal. The raiders were trying to ruin the Mexicans’ supplies and equipment.

Then they turned and rode back through George’s camp, a thundering, charging mass in the dark. George guessed there must have been thirty or forty men. His crew wouldn’t have stood much chance against such overwhelming numbers if it hadn’t been for one rifle, firing with nerve-racking regularity,
that picked off one after another of the raiders. By the time the last of them had raced through the camp, four men were swaying in their saddles.

“Hen, is that you?” George called out to the rifleman. He received no answer.

The raiders turned and headed back again, scattered along a broad front this time, but the deadly rifle picked off three more. The attack broke before they reached the camp. The raiders melted into the dark, the hoofbeats fading quickly into the thick atmosphere.

“The McClendons, the goddamned sons-of-bitches!” Monty cursed, emerging from his cover behind the log he sat on while he ate his meals. “I thought they’d have come before this if they were coming at all.”

“Are you sure it’s not the Mexican bandits we stampeded coming back from Austin?” Salty asked.

“Naw, it had to be the McClendons. No self-respecting bandit would be caught dead on one of their nags.”

“It doesn’t matter who it is, they both want the same thing,” George said. “Make sure everybody’s all right. Salty, do we have any medicine?”

“Not for gunshot wounds.”

“If anybody’s hurt, we’ll have to take them back to the house.”

But nobody seemed to be hurt.

“See how the
vaqueros
are doing, Monty,” George said.

“I’ll warrant they were a hundred feet into the brush by the time those sons-of-bitches passed through our camp.”

“Check on them anyway.” Monty headed off.

“Looks like we’ll have to post a guard from now on,” George said.

“Just like the army. Do we stand guard in pairs or alone?” Silas asked.

“One’s enough. The dogs will be more help than an extra man.”

“You ought to let young Alex stand the first watch. He’s always the last to go to sleep.”

“Where is Alex?” George asked. “Has anybody seen him?”

“No, now that you mention it,” Salty said.

Without a word, Hen plunged into the surrounding darkness, heading toward the clump of bushes where Alex had bedded down. Alex always liked to have something to sleep under. He had come from the hills of Alabama and didn’t trust wide open spaces. They made him nervous, he said. He liked woods better anytime.

He was a skinny lad, looking much younger than his twenty-three years. He had a happy disposition and was a favorite of everyone. He and Hen had become particularly fast friends. George had never understood it—they were so different. With a sinking heart, George followed Hen.

Hen put his hand out to part the branches over Alex’s bed. He froze, his hand still in midair. From the way the boy hunched his shoulders, the muscles becoming steel-hard, George didn’t have to ask any questions. He knew what he would find.

Even after four years of war, the sight made George sick to his stomach. A shotgun blast must have caught him at close range about the time he got to his feet. He was unrecognizable.

Instinctively George reached out and gripped Hen’s shoulder. He felt the muscles hunch, the tension build, but Hen didn’t shrug him off.

“He meant to head for Santa Fe come spring,” Hen said, his voice low. “Said he knew a girl out there. With sandy hair and freckles.”

“We’ll write. I’m sure she’d want to know.”

“He wanted a place in the hills. Never did sleep good on flat land.”

“We’ll bury him on the highest hill we can find,” George promised. “First thing in the morning.”

“Hadn’t we better get ready in case they come back?” Salty asked.

“The sons-of-bitches won’t come back,” Monty said, contempt in his voice. “They’re cowards. They expected to catch us
by surprise. They’d attack women and children before they’d face us again.”

“The house!” George exclaimed. Cold fear gripped him. The McClendons must have headed for the ranch when their second attack failed. Rose, Tyler, and Zac were alone.

He started for his horse at a dead run. The men came streaming behind him.

Rose didn’t notice the sound at first. She was telling Zac a story. It was particularly important she tell it well because Tyler was listening. He pretended to be asleep, but she knew he wasn’t. He thought he was too big to be interested in stories, but she remembered she had enjoyed them as late as the time her father left for the war.

“But when the prince came to the castle, he couldn’t get in. Vines covered the doors and windows.”

“He could chop them down,” Zac said.

“He didn’t have an ax,” Rose replied, a little cross at Zac’s constant interruptions.

“How could he chop wood for the stove?”

“Princes don’t carry axes, you stupid boy,” Tyler said, sitting up in his bed. “They dress up in shiny armor and carry swords.”

“Somebody has to cut wood,” Zac insisted. “How will the princess cook breakfast?”

“Don’t you know anything?” Tyler said, exasperated. “Princesses don’t cook.”

“Rose does.”

“Bless you, child,” Rose said, giving Zac a kiss on the top of his head, much to the boy’s disgust, “but I’m not a princess. The palace woodcutter cuts the wood,” she said, hoping to end the quarrel. “A prince never carries an ax. It’s not very princely.”

“Oh,” said Zac, apparently satisfied.

“Now let me see, where was I? Oh, I remember. He walked all the way around the castle looking for a way in, but everything
was covered in vines. And the vines had lots of long, sharp thorns.”

“Like cat’s claw?” Zac asked.

“Ssshhh!” Rose said. “Did you hear that? It sounded like gunshots.”

“Probably Monty getting a turkey. He said it was time you cooked another one.”

But Monty wouldn’t shoot that many turkeys. Nor would he miss that many times.

“Something’s wrong,” Rose said. She jumped up and ran to the door. The boys followed. Outside the shots were much louder. And there were a lot more of them.

“It’s the camp,” Tyler said. “Somebody’s attacking the camp. I’ve got to go help.”

“Wait!” Rose said.

“They’ll need me.”

“They may come here,” Rose said.

Tyler froze.

“They wouldn’t come here unless…”

“There may be two groups of them,” Rose said, unwilling to allow her mind to finish Tyler’s thought. “Anybody who would attack the camp would attack the house.”

“I’ll go find out,” Tyler volunteered.

“No. The men can take care of themselves. We’ve got to be ready in case they come here. Get every gun you can find. And all the ammunition.”

“Do you know how to shoot?”

“Well enough. Don’t forget, I’m a colonel’s daughter.”

“Can I shoot, too?” Zac asked.

“I want you to load.”

“But I want to shoot.”

“This is no time to argue. Tyler and I may not be able to leave the windows. Someone will have to load our guns. Can you do that?”

Zac nodded, his eyes positively dancing with excitement.
This was nothing more than an adventure to him, like a battle from one of her fairy tales.

“Quick, try to hide the bull. But if you hear them coming, get back here as fast as you can.”

Rose checked the field of fire from each of the windows while Tyler gathered the guns and ammunition.

“I’ll cover them from our bedroom,” Tyler said. “You cover them from the kitchen.”

“I want us all in the same room,” Rose said. “If we have to make a run for it, I want us all together.”

The stack of rifles and boxes of ammunition in the middle of the floor amazed her. Hen and Monty must have stocked the house in case they had to withstand a prolonged attack. Tonight she was grateful they had.

Zac burst into the room.

“They’re coming!” he shouted. “I heard them coming along the creek.”

“How many?” Rose asked.

“Hundreds,” Zac replied.

“You sit right here in the middle of the floor. Keep the lantern turned down low. No matter what we do, don’t you stop loading. Our lives may depend on it.”

Zac didn’t look like he was having as much fun now. Sitting in the middle of a dozen boxes of rifle shells took away some of the excitement.

“I bet they’ll go for the horses and the corral.”

“We can’t help that,” Rose said.

“I could sneak out behind the house—”

“No!” Rose said, her voice almost a shriek. “I can’t risk your being out there without cover.”

Rose heard panic in her voice, and it shocked her. How could she expect the boys to remain calm if she didn’t? She would need all her concentration. Still she felt the fear rising in her like oil up a wick.

She would not panic. Her father had been an officer. He
had endured many battles, but he had never panicked, not even under fire.

Neither would George. And he would be depending on her to keep her head, to make sure that nothing happened to his brothers. She thought of what these two boys meant to George, what they meant to her, and started to get mad. She didn’t know who was about to attack the house, but only base cowards attacked women and children.

Anger slew her fear.

“When you see them coming, pick out one man and aim for him,” Rose told Tyler. “Don’t even glance at anybody else. It’ll ruin your aim.”

Her father had taught her that. Pick your target, he would say, and forget there’s anybody else out there.

“Start over here with me,” she told Tyler. “Change to the other window if they go around.”

The raiders burst into the yard at a gallop. They seemed to pop out of the darkness without warning.

Both Rose and Tyler fired as fast as they could. The attackers, apparently expecting to take the house by surprise, were driven back in confusion.

“Keep firing,” Rose ordered as she handed her empty rifle to Zac and picked up another one. “We’ve got to keep the pressure on them.”

The concussion of the rifle shots inside the room almost deafened Rose. She was certain the noise would permanently scramble her brain, but she concentrated fiercely on the men who were even now preparing for a second run at the house.

“Do you know who they are?” she asked Tyler.

“McClendons!” the boy shouted at her without slowing his firing.

“Who’s the leader?”

“The old man. The one who looks like he’s been smoked and cured.”

“I’ll aim for him,” Rose said. “You get the one closest to you.”

She discarded a second rifle just as they started a second charge. She peered into the heaviness of the night, waiting for the grizzled old man to appear.

“They’re circling the house from both sides,” Tyler warned.

“Get to the other window,” she called without taking her eyes off the heavy black mist that shielded the raiders from her view. Rain had started to fall, making it even harder to see. Maybe it would wet the raiders’ guns, making them harder to fire.

They burst out of the darkness almost at her window. Startled by the suddenness of their appearance, Rose nearly failed to shoot. Gathering her wits quickly, she aimed for the old man. She missed, but she had the satisfaction of seeing shock on his face. She must have come close.

When he turned she saw the tear in his sleeve. She had hit him. She fired again and again without hitting him, but she did hit one of the others. She discarded her rifle without looking back, picked up the next one, and resumed firing.

“How are you doing on your side?” she asked Tyler.

“I winged a couple. They’re drawing off, but there’re so many of them.”

“Do you think we can hold them off?”

“Not if they decide to rush the breezeway.”

“I don’t think they will,” Rose said, surprised she had a definite opinion about fighting, something she knew nothing about. “The old man looked pretty surprised when I hit him. And that bullet couldn’t have done more than graze him.”

“What are they doing now?” Tyler asked. “I can’t see anything.”

“I don’t know. I’m afraid they’re going after the bull. Did you hide him, Zac?”

“I couldn’t find him,” the boy answered. “They came too quick.”

Rose heard a single shot in the distance. She didn’t hear a second. The raiders had obviously shot at something. The single
shot meant they had hit their target. She felt sick. They had found the bull. George would be enraged. It would destroy all his plans.