Thirty-nine

Before full light, Houston led the drovers back to the burned-out Indian camp to bury the dead. Seeing the scene again hammered home the horror even more. He had to find the ones responsible. This couldn’t be allowed to happen again. By the time he and the men rode back, he burned with an even-greater need to exact justice.

Lara waited while he dismounted and then demanded to know what had happened. Holding her tight, Houston told her. Her face drained of color, she quietly gathered Gracie in her arms. Houston knew she was thinking but for the grace of God, she’d be dead.

Despite misgivings about his brothers, in the end, Houston opted to drive the herd forward—into the damn ground if he had to. Sam and Luke had known and accepted the dangers when they stayed behind. They’d wrap a post around his head if he left Lara to go back and check on them.

He remembered Lara’s story about the man who tried to do everything for everyone and the end result was only resentment. She was right. He had to trust his brothers to take care of themselves. But dammit, it was hard! Ever since Houston was eight years old, he’d been looking out for Sam. Time to break the habit and accept that Sam was a grown man.

No, Houston’s place was with his wife and daughter.

The drovers and cattle forded the Canadian after a late breakfast. The lack of mishaps made him breathe a little easier. He’d paused at the spot where he and Lara made love the previous night, remembering the way she’d made him feel like the richest man in the world.

He still felt that way now. Needing a dose of her big smile, he galloped past the mile-long formation of hide and horns. After telling Clay to squeeze them up and adjust the width to fifty feet across, he rode for the chuck wagon out front. He’d have a word with his lady before he scouted for trouble.

Lara’s glance held a special warmth. “Howdy, cowboy. Going my way?”

He pushed back his hat with a forefinger and gave her his best Texas drawl. “I sure am, ma’am. Know if I can steal a kiss sometime?”

“I think I can work that out.” She gave him a teasing grin. The sunlight struck her russet hair, turning it to liquid fire. “Show me your hand, gambler, and maybe I’ll let you do more.”

He let out a long whistle. “You strike a hard bargain, pretty lady. Luckily, I’m holding four aces.”

This lighthearted side of her was a welcome change from the frightened bride—hidden behind a thick veil—who’d stood with him in front of the preacher. His wild rose was strong and determined.

Henry shifted on the seat beside her. His face was a mass of cuts and bruises, testifying to his ordeal. He still seemed in shock, staring ahead with unseeing eyes. The boy didn’t even seem aware that he held Gracie in his arms.

“How’s our boy, Lara?” Houston asked.

“I think we just have to let time work its magic. My heart breaks, thinking of those poor people.” Her voice cracked. “Hannah never got to hold her sweet baby, and little Hiram the third and fourth will never grow up.”

“I know, darlin’. Life isn’t fair sometimes.” Not for the Ledbetters and damn sure not for Lara. “Try not to think about it too much.”

A driving need to avenge them and the Indians was the only thing that helped him cope. There would be justice coming for everyone, and he’d bet twenty of his best horses on that.

He rode around to Henry’s side. “How are you, Henry?”

The boy never blinked. Houston asked again.

Never glancing at him, finally the boy mumbled, “Fine.”

Gracie raised a big fuss and reached for her papa. Houston leaned over and plucked her from the boy’s lap. “I’ll let her ride with me for a while.”

Lara smiled. “Bring her back when you get tired of tending her.”

Houston nodded and hollered to Caroline in her wagon. “You doing all right, Mrs. Vincent?”

“Doin’ just fine. You sure are lucky to have such a sweet babe, Mr. Legend.”

“Now, I told you to call me Houston,” he scolded, riding up beside her. “Mr. Legend is my father.”

Caroline laughed. “My folks taught me to call every adult mister and missus, no matter their age. I can’t break the habit. Is Henry going to be all right?”

“Eventually. What he saw will be hard to erase. Gonna take some time.”

“I hope so. He’s such a kind, gentle boy,” Caroline said. “I can’t imagine all those people being dead. I just can’t picture it. They were so nice.”

“Yes, they were.” Houston turned the roan he’d chosen for the day, intending to ride over to Clay.

“Mr. Legend,” Caroline called.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Do you think those murderers will come this way?”

Houston wished Caroline hadn’t asked the question that had crossed his mind more than once. “If they come, they’ll have to go through Nick and the rest of us to get to you. I have a feeling Nick would fight like a wild badger and leave us with nothing to do but watch.”

The young woman laughed. “I ’spect you’re right. We don’t have much in the way of worldly goods, but we’ve got each other. Anyone who tries to hurt either of us will have the biggest fight on their hands they ever saw.”

“For sure.” He noticed Clay out of the saddle, waving his hat in the air, and Houston galloped off to see what he wanted.

A few seconds later, Clay said, “Got a puny drover.”

Quaid Boone lay on his side on the ground, puking.

“Looks that way.” Houston handed Gracie to Clay and dismounted. He squatted down beside the boy, where the smell of spirits nearly overpowered him. “What’s wrong, Quaid?”

“I’m”—he hiccupped—“sick.”

“Keeps falling out of the saddle,” Clay said, batting Gracie’s hand away from his eye patch. He wore a grin and winked at Houston with his good eye. “If I was a betting man, I’d say he and Virgil got into some rotgut.”

“How about it, Quaid?” Houston asked.

Quaid puked again and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Yes…yes, sir.” He hiccupped again. “But seeing our brother almost d-d-d…dead that…way, do you b-b-blame us?”

“Think you can crawl onto your horse?” Houston asked.

The boy nodded.

“Ride to the wagons. You can lie down until you sober up.”

“Y-y-yes sir. I don’t f-f-f-feel so good.”

Houston helped him to his feet, steadying him while he mounted. Quaid finally made it into the saddle after missing the stirrup three times, but most of the credit went to the big heave Houston gave him.

He swung onto his roan and took Gracie. “Clay, I’ll make sure he reaches Lara. Keep a sharp eye out for trouble. The way the hair is crawling on my neck, something’s coming.”

“My gut’s speaking to me too. Don’t worry, we’ll stay alert.” Clay reached for his reins.

“Just curious. How’s Virgil? Is he sick too?” Houston asked.

“A little green around the gills but nothing like his brother.” Clay chuckled. “Maybe Virgil can handle his liquor better.”

“I know one thing: Lara is going to give Quaid holy hell. I wouldn’t want to be in the kid’s shoes.” Grinning, Houston followed Quaid, who was slipping and sliding from one side of the saddle to the other as though someone had greased the leather with hog lard.

Houston caught sight of Henry’s blank stare when he got Quaid to the wagon. Some lessons were a damn sight harder than others.

* * *

Two days later, Houston watched Quaid work, glad the boy had recovered from his experiment with whiskey. Lara had lit into him with a fury and it appeared to have left quite a sobering effect.

They’d reach Fort Supply in another three days. A week and a half had passed since Houston had left Sam and Luke, and concern had grown into full-blown anxiety.

He sat on his horse with his arm resting on the pommel, his gaze following Frank Farley as he took out after a longhorn escapee. Yuma Blackstone’s former gang member had turned into a first-class drover. No one worked harder or longer than Frank. Houston had begun to have second thoughts about turning him over to the military at the fort. If the man had entertained thoughts of killing them, he’d had plenty of chances. Yet he seemed genuinely glad to be in their company.

Surprisingly, Frank had even shown quite a deep affection for Gracie. And the little angel thought the sun rose and set in the outlaw. Of course, she took up with anyone who offered a smile. Suffice it to say, there would be no living with the child by the time they reached Dodge City. It would be a pure wonder too if she ever figured out what her legs were for.

The late afternoon sun sat low on the horizon. Twilight would soon come. Houston lifted his hat and used his bandanna to wipe the sweat trickling down his face. The weather had turned unseasonably hot over the last week, which made them look forward to the nights, when they could cool off.

For Houston, nighttime couldn’t come fast enough for a different reason.

After feeding the drovers and putting Gracie to bed, he and Lara would crawl onto their blanket to while away the hours cementing their commitment to each other. Although they couldn’t fully shed their clothing or make love, they found other ways to show how they felt.

Teasing and caressing.

Kissing until they grew breathless.

Whispering words of love.

As he learned his wife’s body, Houston grew bolder. He knew what made her eyes grow round, gave her those excited gasps, and had her whispering his name in that breathless voice. He stoked her need to give him pleasure in return.

Pushing the memories aside, he jammed on his hat. “Dammit to hell! I just want to get to Dodge. Bathe my woman in a steaming bath, make love on a real bed, dress her in fine clothes,” he growled into the breeze.

Sighing, he turned the Appaloosa and galloped forward, not slowing until he rode alongside Lara’s wagon.

“Howdy, cowboy,” she said, grinning. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

“Reckon so, ma’am. I ride in these parts pretty often.”

“You remind me a lot of my husband. Would you know him?” She leaned toward him and her dress gaped open, giving him a view of the rounded tops of her breasts.

He had to force himself to swallow before he drooled onto his chin. Lara had started leaving the top buttons of her dress unfastened, but not ever this far before. He hoped none of the men would remark on it, because he’d sure hate to knock their teeth out, what with them being so far from a dentist.

“What does your husband look like, ma’am?” he drawled.

Lara ran her tongue slowly and deliberately across her lips. “Oh, he’s tall like you and has big, gentle hands that can swallow a woman. His arms ripple with strength and he loves children and horses.”

“You don’t say?”

“I most certainly do.” She slid a forefinger into the parted bodice and moved it back and forth across her skin.

Houston smothered a groan as his heartbeat quickened. His wife had learned fast how to excite him. And right now, all he could think of was rolling on top and spilling himself into her. The bulge in his pants became uncomfortable.

“Anything else about this husband of yours?” he asked hoarsely.

“Oh, I should say. He knows how to satisfy his wife,” Lara went on, pushing her finger deeper into the folds of her bodice. Houston smothered another groan. “He keeps me safe and he can be very tough on those who try to hurt me.”

“Sounds like you sort of like this man.”

“I love my cowboy with all my heart and soul.”

“Do tell?” Houston’s grin spread. He loved playing this game with her, seeing her lighthearted teasing.

“Know where I can get a bed for the night?” she asked.

“Meet me by the chuck wagon later and I’ll tell you.”

Before he said any more, Henry stuck his head from the canvas opening and mumbled, “Hi, Houston.”

“Why, howdy, Bones. I wondered where you were.” He watched Henry climb out to sit beside Lara. The boy’s bruises and cuts had begun to show signs of fading, and in the daylight he appeared almost back to his old self. It was only when night came that he retreated inside himself where no one could follow.

“I was playing with Gracie on account of Lara being busy.”

“I’m sure your sister appreciates that. Is she safe in the wagon by herself?”

“Yep.”

Just then Gracie let out a deafening squeal and jabbered as fast as she could. Lara stopped the wagon and leaned through the opening. “Come here, Houston, you should see this.”

Wondering what she was laughing at, he dismounted and climbed up beside her. The child sat on the floor, secured to a flour barrel with a length of rope. Henry had wrapped the lariat around and around both baby and barrel. Squirming, yelling, and baby cussing, Gracie was having none of being tied up.

Henry poked his head between Houston and Lara. “I was keeping her safe. If bad men come they won’t kill her.”

Unsure how to reply, Houston crawled inside. He quickly freed the babe, lifting her out to her mother. While Lara comforted the child, Houston asked Henry to come with him. Three paces from the wagon, Houston put his arm around the boy’s shoulders. He was almost as tall as Houston. “Henry, I know you saw some real bad stuff in the Ledbetters’ wagon—”

“Blood. Blood on my hands. Blood in my hair.”

“I can’t imagine how much that scared you and—”

“I was afraid to die.”

That statement broke Houston’s heart. Young boys shouldn’t have to be afraid of dying. Henry should be catching bullfrogs and fishing and taking a ribbing from his brothers.

“You don’t have to be scared here. Me and all my men are going to keep you and Gracie and Lara safe.”

“They will come,” the boy said matter-of-factly.

“No, Henry. The outlaws are a long way from here. They don’t know where we are. And you know why they don’t?”

He shook his head.

“Because my brothers, Sam and Luke, are making sure they won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

“But they might.”

Standing in the last rays of a dying sun, Henry wasn’t convinced and Houston couldn’t really blame him. The boy had seen a horrific sight that was still lodged in his brain.

Houston pulled Henry close. “If you trust me at all, just know that even if the bad men come, I’m not going to let them hurt you. Not now, not tomorrow or forever.”

“Okay.”

As they turned toward the wagon, a circling hawk squawked overhead. Two more steps and a coyote’s mournful howl sent shivers up Houston’s spine.

Henry was right. Trouble rode toward them.

But from which direction?

Blackstone and his gang were out there. Waiting. Watching. Thinking. Houston could almost hear the sound of their breathing.

Wild beasts stalking wary prey.