The Texan's Dream (5 page)

SEVEN

KARA SAT SILENTLY STARING OUT THE WINDOW AS the train moved through the rain. The job she thought was so perfect when she first heard about it now appeared muddled and complex. She hadn’t just been hired because of her skill or the interview, but partly because of her black hair.

Jonathan seemed to relax as the train migrated into open country. He looked younger with the man called Wolf by his side. Kara knew Jonathan was far more a man and less a boy than Wolf’s treatment might imply. Both men knew it also, yet they each played their part, she assumed out of comfortable habit. She wasn’t sure she’d call them friends, but there was no doubt the two men respected one another.

Kara watched Jonathan Catlin out of the comer of her eye. Whatever bothered him lay all the way in the core of his being. It almost seemed that he wanted to be a spectator in life but kept colliding with the cast. She had to admit his dark good looks attracted her, but his formal manner silently warned her not to step too close.

“We’ll need a reason for going into the Apache camp.” Wolf rubbed his beard. “We can’t just drop by for a visit.”

“I’ve thought about that.” Jonathan looked directly at Wolf, leaving Kara out of the conversation. “We wrap a shawl up like a baby bundle, and I’ll tell the guards my wife wants the medicine man to take a look at our baby. When we walk out a few minutes later with a real baby, it won’t seem strange. Quil told me he’d be watching for me to return. I’ve no doubt that if the guards show any interest in the baby, Quil will draw their attention.”

Wolf shook his head. “Fort Elliot has got an army doctor stationed there. No settler is going to have a medicine man look at a baby when there’s a doctor available.”

“What if I say my wife’s out of her head and insists on seeing the medicine man?” Jonathan looked at Kara for the first time in several minutes.

“Oh, thanks,” she snapped. “How about we just say my husband is crazy.”

Wolf looked from Kara to Jonathan. “It’s a close call. Neither of you have all your brains if you’re even considering this. The army won’t take kindly to removing folks they’ve put under guard. Even little ones.”

“I have to try. I promised Quil.”

Wolf nodded at Jonathan. “If it means that much to you, I’ll go along. Besides, my Molly would never forgive me if I didn’t try to save a baby. I don’t know about helping Quil though. From what I’ve heard, he’s been nothing but trouble for the army.”

“I don’t care about that,” Jonathan answered. “If you’d seen his eyes like I did, you’d understand. It took a great deal out of him to ask for help, from me or anyone. That baby’s all he’s got left to live for. His family is dead, his wife, hell, his whole way of life. His child is all he has left. It’s what keeps him breathing.”

Kara turned back to the window remembering her own loved ones and wishing she’d been allowed to stay and fight. She didn’t want to think her father might already be dead and she didn’t even know it. If he was, she hoped she never found out. Somehow it was easier thinking of him just living away somewhere apart from her, than knowing he might be cold in a grave.

The men continued to make plans to get in and out of the stockade without causing suspicion. Most of the captured were Comanche, but the army had called it an Apache camp. According to Jonathan, the captives knew they were in no great danger and would simply be shipped to reservations, so there was no need for a heavy guard.

Wolf finally came up with the idea that Kara would be looking for her long lost brother who’d been kidnapped by the Indians. Jonathan was along as an interpreter, and Wolf would fit in because families looking for relatives often contacted the Texas Rangers. He’d played out this scene for real so many times it should be no problem making believe this once. With a ranger and an interpreter along, the guards would never bother accompanying them past the gate.

Kara drifted into sleep with her head resting against the cold window. She dreamed of being home where there was always a warm fire. After her mother died, Kara took over the cooking and cleaning for her father. She always thought of him as her family, but he talked of his wife as “all he’d had in the world.” He became more and more involved in work, expecting Kara to work part-time at the bakery and take care of the house.

As the train rolled on, she dreamed of working at the bakery in the predawn hours … of walking home with bread so fresh the aroma filled her lungs with every breath … of making tea before waking her father and sitting by the fire, warming while she had her bread and tea.

Kara awoke slowly from the peace of her dream. Memories of home faded as the smell of leather drifted across her senses. She moved slightly and felt the softness of Jonathan’s coat against her cheek. Raising her head slowly, she looked up into his sleeping face. He seemed to have had no objection to her using him as a pillow. As carefully as she could, she straightened away from him, trying not to wake him.

The rain still fell, making the day beyond the window gray and the compartment seem smoky. Kara blinked in the dim light and looked across the small space to where Wolf was stretched out on the other seat. He looked relaxed, or as relaxed as a man wearing an arsenal could. When her gaze reached his face, she was surprised to see him awake.

“Have a nice nap?” Wolf asked with almost a laugh. “You must have a clear conscience, little lady, because you sleep solid as a rock.”

“What do you mean?” Kara had always been kidded about how solid she slept.

Wolf stretched. “Well, we made two stops and not even the whistle woke you. After the first stop, Jonathan just rolled you beneath his arm so you’d be more comfortable, and you didn’t even stir.”

Kara blushed. “How much farther?”

“Another hour. Maybe two with the rain.”

Wolf’s low, southern voice was friendly enough, but he made her nervous watching her. He was not a man easily fooled, she’d guess. He might be able to see that she was running from something rather than looking forward to going somewhere.

“You said you were a Texas Ranger?” she asked, not wanting him to be the one to ask any more questions.

Wolf nodded. “I tried to retire. My wife hates for me to be gone from home. But last year the Legislature created two new forces of rangers to deal with the trouble along the frontier. Raids are still a problem, but it seems the greatest threat to Texas is Texans. We got as many outlaws as we got buffalo.”

He straightened and leaned closer to her. “All the newspapers tell of the Indian raids that killed almost a hundred last year in the Panhandle alone, but there are towns where the sun can’t come up unless there’s been at least one shooting.”

Kara didn’t know whether to believe him or not. She had a hard time picturing a state filled with outlaws. She’d never seen a buffalo and, until yesterday, she couldn’t remember ever meeting a Texan.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Miss O’Riley?” The way he said her name made her think he was already counting her as an outsider in their game. “Jonathan and I can get Quil’s son out somehow if you don’t feel right about going along.”

“I agreed.” She glanced at Jonathan. “Did Mr. Catlin tell you someone took a shot at us when we left the hotel?”

“He did,” Wolf answered. “Said it might be his neighbor, Wells. The old man’s tall as an elm and crazy as sap. He’s too mean to die, and if he’s the one causing all the trouble on Catlin’s ranch, it’s only a matter of time before we catch him.”

Kara had to be honest. “What if it were someone else? Someone who wanted me dead.”

Wolf smiled. “Why would anyone want you dead?” The last words of her father drifted back to her. Trust no one. Her need to tell him the truth battled with her father’s warning. “I don’t know,” she lied. “But it’s a possibility.”

“More likely just a case of mistaken identity. Jonathan said it was raining. Maybe the shooter took you for someone else. Kansas City ain’t half rooted in civilization on a good day.”

Kara nodded. She wanted to believe the lawman, but even in the downpour, when she’d glanced up, it looked like the man with the rifle stared straight at
her.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be safe from now on. I’ll stay with you until you reach Catlin land. Once there, your biggest problem will be trying to straighten out the books. Trust me, that will be no small task.”

“I’m not a very good bookkeeper,” Kara admitted. “I only got out of school two weeks ago and this is my first job.”

Wolf grinned. “Don’t worry. I have a feeling you’ll do just fine. Don’t let Jonathan frighten you none. It’s been a hard road for him, but he’s grown into a good man. The last thing he wanted was to get saddled with the responsibility of the Catlin Ranch, but he’s handling it just fine.”

Kara asked questions about the ranch. Before she thought an hour could have passed, they were pulling into Fort Supply. From there, they boarded a coach and headed southwest to the newly organized Fort Elliot. The stage made great time until the last few miles, where it caught up with a mule train that had left Fort Supply two days earlier. Those last miles, following a hundred-wagon caravan into Fort Elliot, were torture.

This new fort had been built beside an encampment called Hidetown. As Jonathan helped Kara from the stage, all she saw around her were soldiers and huge men covered in leather.

“Buffalo hunters,” Wolf explained. “They smell worse than the buffalo.”

They walked a few yards to a saloon. While Jonathan went inside and booked them rooms in the newly finished hotel, Kara looked around. The bustle of a newborn town was all around her, along with the smells of rotting meat, unwashed bodies and whiskey.

The men left Kara at the hotel while they went to talk to the fort commander. Within an hour, they were back with permission to walk around inside the camp looking for her lost family. They’d told the commander that Mrs. O’Riley was still weak from childbirth, and they’d bring her as soon as she’d rested. The commander offered a wagon and driver as transportation for the lady.

Wolf insisted on waiting until it was almost dark.

Kara folded her new white shawl ten times trying to make it look like a baby blanket with a newborn inside.

Jonathan paced.

As they stood to leave, Jonathan stepped in front of Kara, hesitated a moment, then removed her glasses.

“Now everything’s a blur past a few feet.” She reached for the glasses.

“Trust me, this time it could be better that way.” He handed her the empty shawl with such care she could almost believe there truly was a baby inside. “I’ll be there to guide you.”

The area where the army imprisoned the Indians was as Jonathan described it—little more than a corral. Armed guards stood about every ten feet. There were several cooking fires and a few small tents on the grounds. Women prepared a meal of soup with some kind of flat bread while the men sat around one main campfire. Beyond a few feet the shadows blurred for Kara, but the smells were strong enough to tell her that Jonathan had been right. Maybe it was better not to look too closely.

Before tonight Kara had only seen drawings of the Apache. These people looked nothing like the pictures she’d seen. They were not the brave savages, powerful and proud. Most of the men and women before her were survivors of a storm that continued to rage across their lives. She kept her eyes down as if she could make herself invisible among them.

With his hand firmly at her elbow, Jonathan pulled her quickly around the outskirts of the group. She saw him nod slightly at a tall man who looked about his age. The man walked ahead of them for several feet, then stepped aside without a word. Quil, Kara thought.

When Jonathan reached a tent made of hides, he drew her close and whispered, “Only the women will be in here. Go in and get Quil’s son. There is one who speaks English who will give you the baby.”

Kara nodded and folded into the tent as though already carrying a baby in her arms.

The inside of the tent was even darker than it had been outside. Kara stood very still. She could sense others in the darkness, but couldn’t see anything clearly. As her eyes adjusted, the rounded forms of women huddled around smoking coals in the center came into view. Embers floated toward the night sky, glowing like fireflies as they escaped through an opening at the top of the tent.

Slowly, she stepped over sleeping children until she could stand straight without hitting the top of the tent. Women in blankets rocked and shifted, whispering in a language she’d never heard. A few had turned her direction when she’d let the cold wind in. But none seemed interested enough to follow her progress.

Finally one woman near the back stood and walked toward Kara carrying an odd basket Kara recognized from pictures she’d seen. A cradleboard. Apache women strapped their young inside, then laced the basket to their backs or one of the lodge poles. Kara read a story once about how baby girls’ cradleboards were packed with inner bark of the cedar as stuffing to absorb soilings. Baby boys were strapped in with the bottom of the board left open to drip when needed.

“You are Quil’s friend’s woman?” The stranger raised a wrinkled finger almost touching Kara’s cheek.

Kara stared at the woman before her wrapped so tightly in a blanket that her face was completely hidden.

“Yes,” Kara whispered back. Afraid to say more or try to explain. If this old one was expecting her, she’d need no other greeting.

“When I lived among your people, I was called Raven.” The old woman sat the cradleboard down. “But, that was many years ago.”

Kara knelt beside her, opening her shawl to receive the baby when he was removed from the board. “It is nice to meet you,” she said, thinking how the empty words meant nothing; they only filled the silence between them.

Raven turned and covered Kara’s hands to still them atop the shawl. “The boy child of Quil.” Aging fingers gripped Kara’s hands for a moment. When she released her hold, she spread her hands palms down before Kara and brought one hand over the other again and again as if trying to make a sign that would explain. “Son of Quil has gone under,” she whispered.

Kara felt a chill as surely as if the north wind had blown the tent down.