Texas Lucky (16 page)

“Well, I reckon there’s enough room for everybody,” he said cheerily. “You know anything about ranchin’?”

“Not a thing. But I intend to learn.” She pointed at his gun, which was on his left side with the butt facing forward. It was the same way Curt had worn his, which, she had noticed, was different from other men. She had never gotten around to asking Curt why, but took the opportunity to inquire of Ben, “Would you mind telling me why you holster your gun backwards?”

Iris made a face. “Oh, must you talk about such things? And can’t you two stop jabbering for one minute?”

Ben, bushy brows joining the wrinkles in his forehead, fired back, “Lady, maybe you need remindin’ that we paid for this ride just like you did, and we got a right to talk to one another if we want. Now, if you want to sit there like a knot on a log and be unfriendly, you go right ahead. Just leave us alone.”

Again, Tess had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling as Iris’s face turned beet red. Iris sputtered indignantly, then turned to the window to glare out in icy silence.

Ben leaned closer to Tess and said, “Sorry I had to speak out like that, but sometimes you gotta do it to keep from bein’ walked all over. Know what I mean?”

She did, indeed, and wished she had his kind of gumption.

“As for how I wear my gun”—he patted the butt—“It’s called cross-draw. Lets me draw easier while I’m sittin’ in the saddle.”

“I knew a man who wore his gun like that. He was a gunfighter. Is that what you are?” she asked innocently.

“Oh, no, ma’am. I’m a rancher. Got me a little spread south of Dallas.”

Tess began asking him more questions, wanting to learn as much as she could.

When he told her his
little
spread was
only
twenty thousand acres, she gasped, “You call that
little
?”

“In Texas,” he explained, “that’s little, especially when you consider Richard King’s place down in Santa Gertrudis. Last I heard, he had nearly a hundred an’ fifty thousand acres and almost eighty-five thousand head o’ cattle.

“Now
that’s
big,” he said with a wide grin.

“I…I would say so,” she agreed, stunned to imagine a ranch that size.

They talked on, and the miles rolled by. By the time they reached the way station where they would spend the night, Tess and Ben had become fast friends. She hung on to his every word and was endeared to him for not making fun of her dream. Instead, he was encouraging, saying that if she was willing to learn and work hard, she could probably become a successful rancher.

“I need someone to teach me,” she hinted at breakfast. She was glad Iris was not present. Iris had demanded a tray be sent to her room. Tess found her little sniffs and snorts as she listened to their conversations so annoying. “Maybe I could pay you to let me stay at your place for a while.”

He laughed. “Oh, I’d never get any work done for having to look out for you. Besides, I don’t need your money, little lady.”

“But I can take care of myself.”

“Not yet you can’t.”

“But you can show me.” She was not too proud to beg, because in the short while she had known Ben Moseley, she’d grown to like him and trust him. He seemed like her father, in a way, except something told her Ben would never sell his daughter for any reason.

“If you would give me a chance,” she persisted, “I promise you won’t be sorry. And if it didn’t work out, then I’d leave.”

“Sorry,” he said, sounding and looking as though he truly meant it. “But even if I was of a mind to, my son’s wife wouldn’t like it. Her and my son, Tyler, live with me, and she runs the house. She can be a real bear when she wants to be, and she’d likely pitch a fit over having another woman around.”

Though no one else could hear, Ben leaned across the table to confide, “But if the truth be known, I can’t stand her. The time I’ve been gone to be with my brother while he was sick and dyin’ has been the most peace I’ve known since Tyler married that little shrew.

“No”—he shook his head firmly—“it wouldn’t work out, and she’d make you as miserable as she does me.”

“But—”

He held up a hand. “My mind’s made up, little lady. Now let’s just enjoy the rest of the journey together, and I’ll try to tell you as much as I can on the way. How’s that?”

It was, Tess glumly decided, better than nothing.

So they talked incessantly during the day, Tess asking questions and Ben doing his best to answer. He agreed she needed to learn to ride and rope and shoot, because ranching was not, he emphasized, something to be done from behind a desk. Next morning they received some distressing news. Joe reluctantly told them of a chilling new report about Indians in the area.

“Didn’t want to keep you awake worrying, but three weeks ago they attacked the settlers east of here where we’re supposed to stay tonight and burned them out.”

Iris wailed, “Where is our Army escort?”

Joe explained, “The agent sent a telegraph to the nearest fort, but they’ve had trouble, too, and can’t spare a patrol. So we’ll just have to be extra careful. We’re only two days from the next station at Pyramid.”

“I’ll ride up top,” Ben said, “and watch the rear.”

“Won’t be too comfortable,” Sulley pointed out. “There ain’t no seat.”

Ben said it didn’t matter. “You boys are going to need extra eyes, and I’ll feel better doing my part.”

The day was boring for Tess. Without Ben to talk to, there was nothing to do but stare out the window at the dismal landscape and distant mountains.

At twilight, they reached the charred remains of the settlers’ cabin.

Tess shivered to think of how terrifying it must have been for the people—Indians circling on horseback, shrieking as they shot their fire-tipped arrows into the roof.

A creek ran nearby, so the horses could be watered. The agent at the way station where they had spent the previous night had provided a sack of food—hardtack, boiled eggs, and cold beans.

“Not much,” Sulley was the first to admit, “but maybe it’ll hold us till we get to Pyramid.”

Iris wailed, “You mean this…this
slop
is all we have to eat until tomorrow night? And where do we sleep?”

Sulley said, “We’re going to ride on till it gets good ’n dark, then find a spot to camp. You ladies can sleep in the coach, and we’ll take turns standing guard.”

Iris threw up her hands. “Oh, why should I expect anything else? I was a fool to have ever come out here.”

They rode on, finally stopping when Joe found a spot he thought was suitable, ringed by huge boulders. He felt they would be safe for the night. “Indians don’t prowl around much in the dark.”

“The Mescalero do,” Ben grimly reminded him.

Joe said, “Well, we’ll be extra alert.”

The night passed with agonizing slowness. Tess was terribly uncomfortable but did not complain. Iris did enough of that for both of them.

Finally, she fell asleep, only to awaken with a start.

A sound.

A strange sound.

But what—

Then again.

Like a rock thudding into clay.

Followed by a painful whinny and then something that sounded like a pile of bones collapsing.

“What the hell—”

It was Joe, scrambling out from under the wagon, with Ben right behind him yelling, “Goddamn, they got Sulley…”

Just then an arrow flew through the coach window to slam into the side just above Tess’s head. She dove to the floor, grabbing Iris, who was, astonishingly, still asleep.

The light outside was faint, a strange purple mist streaking the sky, barely enough to see but enough that the Indians were finding their targets.

And so were Joe and Ben, who began to shoot amid the shrieks and screams of the Indians as they attacked.

Iris also screamed, so loudly Tess thought her eardrums would surely explode, and she tried to quiet her but to no avail. Finally, she clamped a hand over Iris’s mouth and held her down, even though Iris struggled mightily.

Then Tess heard a cry of pain, followed by Joe yelping, “Oh, damn, Ben. You’re hit.”

Tess’s heart turned over, and she fought the instinct to go to his aid. She knew it would be a death wish, for she could hear arrows continuing to hit the stage between Joe’s gunshots.

Finally, all was quiet.

Tess still did not move and continued to hold Iris down. Then Joe called, “You all can come out now, but I’m warning you—it ain’t pretty.”

They got out, and Iris took one look, only to crawl back inside the coach, hands pressed to her mouth in horror.

Tess, however, swallowed hard and stared at Sulley’s body, an arrow sticking out of one eye.

He was dead.

And so were all the horses, except for one.

With legs trembling like a sapling in the wind, Tess walked to where Joe was down on his knees beside Ben.

He was sprawled on the ground, an arrow in his side.

Chapter Thirteen

Fearfully, Tess knelt beside Ben.

Though he made no sound, she knew by his tight-lipped grimace that he was in terrible pain.

“What can I do?” she whispered, feeling so helpless.

“Don’t rightly know,” he murmured. “I’ve never been shot with an arrow before.”

Joe closed Sulley’s eyes with his thumbs and said, voice cracking, “Lord, I hate leavin’ you like this, knowin’ them varmints is gonna scalp you when they come back.”

He moved to Ben to examine his wound.

“Are you going to try and pull it out?” Tess asked.

Joe threw her a glance that said he thought she was crazy. “In the first place, I wouldn’t pull it out. It’s got a barb on the end, and it’d tear him all to pieces pulling it out opposite from how it went in. I’d push it on through. But I ain’t gonna do that, neither, ’cause then he’d bleed to death less’n we had him where it could be looked after proper.”

“Then what
are
you going to do?”

He did not answer. Instead, gun in hand and hammer cocked, he went to make sure the Indians on the ground were dead, then returned to Tess and Ben.

With shaking hand, he wiped perspiration from his brow. “There were five of ’em. Hunters. Not a war party. But once they spotted us, it didn’t matter. They wanted our scalps…wanted you women. The two that got away have gone to get help. They’ll be back, and we’ve got to get out of here fast.”

“But how?” Tess glanced about. “They killed all but one of our horses. The ones that belonged to the Indians ran away. Can one horse pull the stage?”

“Not as fast as we need to travel. You’re small. So’s Miss Bonaventure. The three of us can make it.”

“Three?” Tess blinked. “But what about Ben? We can’t leave him here.”

“We have to.”

“But you said the Indians will be back. They’ll kill him.”

He looked at her remorsefully. “I’m sorry. Real sorry. But I’ve got to get you women to safety. If we stay, we’re all dead.”

“But you have guns. I can try to shoot.”

“We wouldn’t have a chance against them even if Ben wasn’t hurt and Sulley wasn’t dead. They’re gonna come back strong, and for every shot we could get off, they’d let loose a dozen arrows. No”—he shook his head firmly from side to side—“we’re gettin’ the hell out of here as fast as I can unhitch the one horse we got left and get the three of us on him.”

“But you can’t just leave him to die—”

Ben roused himself to declare, “He’s right. Four can’t ride on one horse.”

“Joe and I can walk,” she argued, “and you and Iris can ride.”

Ben was adamant. “Three riding will be slow enough, but at least you’ve got a chance. Save yourselves. Just leave me a gun so I can take a few of ’em with me before I go.”

Tess turned on Joe, her face crimson with rage and eyes sparkling with fire. “I won’t leave him.”

Exasperated, Joe snapped, “Then you can stay, dammit, but I don’t think you’ve heard what Apaches do to women before they kill ’em. They make ’em want to die. They make ’em
beg
to die. And if they don’t kill ’em, they make slaves out of ’em, and—”

“That’s enough, Joe,” Ben said with a caustic glare. Then, to Tess, “He’s right. You have to go with them.”

“I am not leaving you, and that’s final.”

“And you’re a little fool,” Joe yelled. “I’m not wasting any more time arguing with you.” He walked over to the remaining horse and began unhitching the harness with quick, jerky movements, mouth working furiously.

“Tess…” Ben raised a bloodied hand. “Please don’t…”

Ignoring his protests, she looked at her surroundings. There were boulders, which had not concealed them from the Indians as they had hoped, but, higher up, scraggly brush grew from the crevices. She was uncertain as to what kind—mesquite, maybe. But it was enough to offer a hiding place if they were very still and kept quiet.

Her gaze warily went to the sky. Buzzards were already beginning to circle, which would be a beacon for the returning Indians. But they would be busy with the bodies, not waiting for Ben to die—which would not happen, if there was any way she could prevent it.