Fifteen

Houston leaped off the horse before it could slow. “Lara!”

He reached for his Colt when he saw her standing alone where the team of horses should have been. She held Gracie in her arms, but her heartrending sobs tore into him.

“What is it, Lara? Please, God, tell me what happened.”

She handed him a thin cigarette paper. “He was here!”

“Who?”

“Read this.”

He glanced down at the words:

I could’ve killed the brat. Next time I will.

Deadly quiet settled over him. When he spoke, the words were harsh and raspy in his ears. “Where did you find this?”

“Lying next to Gracie. It’s him, Houston.”

“Yuma? Did you see him?”

“No, Henry did.” Her voice was cold and full of fear.

He glanced around. “Where is Henry?”

“Hiding inside the wagon. Yuma terrified him.”

And her too. Houston put his arm around Lara’s trembling body. “You’re safe. I’m here. I told you I wouldn’t be long. I’m not going to let Yuma have you or Gracie.”

Gracie whimpered and looked at him with wide eyes. She might not know what to be afraid of, but she knew fear. He kissed her, then wiped away Lara’s tears. He kicked himself all the way to the Rio Grande and back. He should’ve been here.

Why the hell had he left?

But she had been with the others when he rode out—he’d made sure of it. The wagon was rolling alongside the cattle, but now there was no sign of the longhorns.

“I need to find Henry, and then I want you to tell me everything.”

At her nod, Houston climbed up into the wagon box and glanced inside the interior where they kept all the supplies. “Henry, it’s me. You can come out now. No one can hurt you.”

The fourteen-year-old poked his head from between sacks of meal, flour, and sugar. Tears streamed down his face.

“Can you come out and talk to me?” Houston quietly asked.

The boy shook so hard he could barely crawl over the wagon seat. Houston helped him to the ground.

“Is he gone?” Henry asked, looking around.

“Yes, he’s gone. Did you see him?”

“I was afraid. I hid,” Henry said, his voice full of raw emotion and shame. “I didn’t save the baby. He took her.”

“No, Henry. Lara’s got Gracie. See?” Houston led him around to prove he spoke the truth. When Henry saw Lara, he stumbled to her, saying over and over how sorry he was for being a coward.

It took Houston several minutes to get everyone settled down. “Now, tell me everything and don’t spare one detail.”

“I was with the herd, exactly as you told me,” Lara began slowly. “We crossed that small creek back there and I stopped to refill the water kegs because they were low. Quaid and Virgil were with me.”

“Good. That’s what I told them to do.”

“We heard gunshots and I told my brothers to go see what was happening. Henry and I finished up and got going again, but the harnesses snapped on the horses and they ran off. I only saw afterward where they’d been cut. Yuma must have done it. I walked a little ways, trying to find the horses, and left Henry with the baby.”

With effort, Henry gathered himself. “I sat Gracie on a blanket. I started to go help. The baby cried.” He began shaking.

“That’s okay, Henry. What happened next?” Houston gently prodded.

“I saw him.”

“Yuma Blackstone?”

“He was holding Gracie. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Henry began rocking back and forth, his tears leaving tracks in the dirt on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Houston put an arm around the boy’s neck and pulled Henry to him. “It’s all right, son. You didn’t do anything wrong. No one blames you. You love that little girl.”

“I was scared.”

“I know, but you don’t have to be scared now,” Houston said.

Lara put her arms around Henry. “I don’t blame you, little brother. I love you.”

Henry pulled back and cried, “No. I’m a coward.”

Clearly no one could reason with him in his distraught state, but Houston needed answers. He took a deep breath. Maybe getting him back to the story would help. “Tell me what happened next, Henry. Can you do that? I need to know so I can keep Yuma from coming back. When you saw him holding Gracie, what did he do?”

“I yelled.”

Houston strove for patience with the boy. “And then what?”

“He put that paper on Gracie and dropped her. She cried. He laughed and called me stupid. Said I was a dummy. Pointed his gun.”

A muscle worked in Houston’s jaw. Blackstone was awfully brave when faced with a mere boy. Let him face a grown man. Then they’d see how much guts he had. The urge to put a bullet between his eyes burned hotter than the fires of Hades.

Without a doubt, Blackstone was the evil that the Cherokee woman had said followed them. Although it was pure conjecture, Blackstone and his men must’ve raided the Indian camps.

Houston forced himself back to the present. “Then after you ran and hid, he rode away?”

Henry sniffled and nodded.

“Were other men with him?”

“Nope.” Henry turned and trudged away, probably back to his safe hiding place.

The others must’ve created a diversion to draw Virgil and Quaid away while Yuma went after Gracie and Lara. Only Lara had left by the time he arrived. But what if she’d been there when he came? What would Yuma have done to her? Would he have killed her this time? Cold fear spread through Houston.

Hell and be damned!

He was thinking about the wisdom of leaving the chuck wagon to look for the horses, when Virgil and Quaid galloped up. He quickly told them about Yuma and the cut harnesses.

“We’ll find the team,” Virgil said, wasting few words.

“What were the gunshots Lara and Henry heard?” Houston asked, praying that no one had been hurt.

Quaid wiped sweat from his forehead. “Three riders came out of nowhere and took two horses from the remuda. We shot at ’em but they got away. Now we know why they attacked us.” He paused before adding, “I wish we’d have killed ’em!”

“Yep.” Virgil spat on the ground as though he had a bad taste in his mouth.

“We will.” Before this was over, Houston would see them all dead. Only now he knew more were on the way, and how many was anyone’s guess. “Go round up the horses so we can get Lara moving. From now on, no one leaves her. We’ve got to stick closer together.”

“Yep,” Quaid echoed his brother and both mounted up.

As they rode off, Lara grabbed Houston. “Our baby isn’t safe. Please help me stop Yuma from getting her.”

“I’ll see to it that he won’t harm Gracie. I’ll keep you both safe. I promise.”

But could he keep that vow? Fear of how easily Yuma could’ve succeeded if he’d wanted put chunks of ice in Houston’s veins.

“Did I cause this because I didn’t have the talisman on Gracie that the Cherokee gave you?” Lara’s voice was but a whisper, as though speaking too loudly would draw back the evil.

He’d asked himself the same question. Living a stone’s throw from Indian Territory, he knew a lot about the culture, and though not specifically, the importance of their symbols and charms. The woman had given it to them to protect Gracie, so it seemed to him they needed to somehow put it on her…for now.

Until he could chop off the head of the snake and feed the sick bastard’s carcass to the buzzards.

Even now, Blackstone could be watching from a hiding place in the huge rocks five hundred yards away. Houston scanned the area but nothing moved.

“You’re not to blame, Lara. Who’s to say if it would’ve made a difference?” He wrapped his arms around her and their child. Gracie squirmed between them and he realized he held her too snugly. Yet it felt as though he didn’t hold her and Lara tightly enough.

He wanted to draw them inside him where no one could get to them. But that wasn’t possible. “We’re going to get through this, Lara.”

“How did he find me? How?”

Good question with only one answer. “He had to have been watching you for a while. When you came on this cattle drive, he saw his opportunity.”

“But Papa and my brothers searched for him high and low after that night. If he was near, they’d have found him.”

“He’s slippery, Lara. But one day his luck will run out.”

Lara’s pretty green eyes stared up at him. Her gaze was full of torment. “I know why he wants to kill me. But why Gracie? She’s his own flesh and blood. She’s innocent.”

“Yes, but she represents what he did. He can lie to himself about the whole thing but Gracie is living proof of his evil deed,” Houston said quietly.

As though sensing they talked about her, Gracie began to wail.

Lara stepped out of his arms to comfort her, while Houston watched helplessly. He bit back a curse and shot a glare toward the rocks. One minute with the man who’d caused it. That’s all he asked. But the boulders stared back in silence.

Why in hell hadn’t he left them safe on the Lone Star?

Calling himself every name he could think of, Houston stalked to his horse and lifted the flap of a saddlebag. He took out the extra pistol and walked back to Lara. “Keep this with you at all times. If Yuma catches you alone again, shoot him.”

Lara stared at the gun. “I hate these things. They hold such destructive power.”

“They’re supposed to. I need to know you have some way of defending yourself.”

“But—”

Houston brushed her cheek with a finger. “Humor me on this.”

“All right.” She stuck it into a pocket in the fold of her dress.

Gracie set up a new round of wailing, and while Lara comforted the babe, he moved toward the wagon.

For an hour, Houston worked fixing the harnesses. Step by step, he taught Henry. The boy’s quickness in picking up the technique surprised him. Henry struggled to saddle a horse, but yet found the harness repair easy to master. Houston made a mental note—there were always things to be fixed, and a man on the trail never knew when he’d need to repair something. Henry could easily be given more duties of this nature.

They had just finished up when Virgil and Quaid returned with the runaway team, and it took no time to get moving. Houston let Henry ride the Appaloosa while he drove the chuck wagon. He wasn’t going to let Lara and Gracie out of his sight again.

As they rolled slowly along over the cattle-trampled earth, Houston slipped an arm around Lara and she seemed to move closer to him. Although he might’ve imagined that last part. No words needed to be said.