by ShiningStar
Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program
"Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and
have been used without permission. No
copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.
Secondly, my grandfather (born in 1873) grew up in Texas
when outlaws still roamed the hills and byways. He was just a month short of
his fifth birthday when Sam Bass was killed in Round Rock, Texas, not far from
Grandpa’s home in Lampasas. He used to tell me the story and finish by singing
“The Ballad of Sam Bass” (of which there is a great deal more than I inserted
below!)
Sam Bass was born
in Indiana, it was his native home,
And at the age of
seventeen young Sam began to roam.
Sam first came out
to Texas a cowboy for to be-
A kinder-hearted
fellow you seldom ever see.
Sam used to deal in
race-stock, one called the Denton mare;
He matched her in
scrub races and took her to the fair.
Sam used to coin
the money, and spent it just as free;
he always drank
good whiskey wherever he might be.
Sam left the
Collins ranch in the merry month of May,
With a herd of
Texas cattle the Black Hills for to see;
Sold out in Custer
City, and then got on a spree-
A harder set of
cowboys you seldom ever see.
On their way back
to Texas they robbed the U.P. train,
And then split up
in couples and started out again;
Joe Collins and his
partner were overtaken soon,
With all their
hard-earned money they had to meet their doom.
Eleven-year-old Katherine Barkley Wardell, who was
entertaining her two-years-younger nephew Trevor, the son of her brother
Jarrod, stopped singing abruptly as her father stepped out onto the veranda.
“Where did you learn such a song as that, Kate precious?”
he asked mildly—though Kate knew that beneath his calm expression there was a
definite disapproval.
She squirmed. “Uh—Nick taught it to me, Papa, last summer
when we were out shooting.”
“I see. Well, I would prefer that you not sing it again,
Kate.”
“Yes, Papa.”
Royce Wardell sat down in a deep wicker chair and opened a
newspaper. “There’s my good girl.”
“There’s my good girl,” Trevor mimicked silently, drawing
an icy glare from his companion.
“Hush up, Trevor!” Kate mouthed. She didn’t like to be
corrected in front of him, but she brooked no slight offered toward her adored
Papa.
“Kate!” Her mother’s voice calling from the door saved the
day. “Kate, have you done your practicing today?”
“No, Mother. I’ll do it now.”
Victoria smoothed her daughter’s hair as she passed into
the house. “There’s my good girl.”
Trevor broke into loud guffaws and ducked off the veranda
before his grandmother could find something for him to do as well.
“What’s Trevor laughing about?” Victoria asked Kate.
“He won’t be laughing when I get through with him,” the
girl muttered as she flounced toward the piano.
“Now, Kate, you’re older, you know. It’s up to you to set
the example—and I forbid you to fight with him.”
“He’s such a nuisance sometimes!”
“Most of the time the two of you are good companions.
Goodness knows you’d have no one to play with while we’re here if it wasn’t for
Trevor.”
“Nick takes me shooting, and I go riding with Audra when
she visits. And Heath used to have tea parties with me under the tree out
back.”
“But you’re too old for tea parties now, aren’t you, and
Audra won’t be here for another week—and Nick’s been too busy to take you out,”
replied Victoria reasonably.
Kate spread out her music on the polished rack and sat
down. “I don’t care. I like being a little sister more than I like being an aunt
to such a pest as Trevor!”
“You’re more like cousins, I think.”
“Don’t matter, he. . .”
“Doesn’t matter, Kate.”
“Doesn’t matter. Sometimes I don’t like him very much.”
Victoria rested her hands lightly on her daughter’s
shoulders. “Yes, but Kate, the two of you—as well as Nick’s, Heath’s, and
Audra’s children—are the younger generation. Someday you’ll be. . .”
Kate shook her head fiercely. “Don’t say that, Mother,
please!”
Victoria kissed her gently. “Half-an-hour will do today,
darling. Come out to the kitchen when you’re finished, and we’ll have some
lemonade and cookies.”
* * * * * * * *
After dinner, Heath took his family home, and Nick’s wife
went upstairs to put their children to bed. Nick joined his mother and Royce in
the library where Trevor and Kate were entertaining themselves with the
stereopticon. “I almost forgot, Royce—I brought this home from town. It had
been forwarded to you in care of Jarrod.” He picked up a thick envelope from
the desk.
Royce examined it curiously. “That’s odd. It’s from an
attorney in Washington, D.C. I wonder what it’s about.”
Victoria looked up from her embroidery. “I know of only
one way to find out.”
Except for the soft exchanges between Kate and Trevor, the
room was silent while Royce studied the contents of his mail. “Well, well,
well,” he murmured finally. “Do you remember the name John Lyles, Victoria?”
“I believe so. You were classmates at West Point, weren’t
you? And he was killed in the war.” She didn’t, of course, elaborate on the
fact that John Lyles had lost his life trying to do a favor for his good friend
Royce Wardell.
“The letter was from his
father’s attorney in Washington, D.C. It seems that Judge Lyles died last
month.”
“He must have been quite
elderly.”
“Ninety-six as a matter
of fact. His wife died some years ago, and John was their only child. His
attorney writes that I’ve been named in the will.” He selected one of several
papers and handed it to his wife. “It seems that I’ve fallen heir to several
thousand acres in Texas.”
“Texas!” Kate jumped up
and hurried to his side. “Oh, Papa, how exciting!” She perched on his knee.
“Can we go there?”
“I haven’t thought that
far, Kate precious. The letter only arrived today.”
“We studied about Texas
in school this year, Papa—the Alamo and Goliad and San Jacinto and all kinds of
other things. Miss Halston’s cousin is a Texas Ranger, and he writes to her
about all the outlaws they catch.” Kate narrowed her eyes. “And he even gets to
be there when they’re hung!” She put her small hands to her throat and
pretended to squeeze until her tongue protruded.
Victoria turned her face
to hide a smile at Royce’s obvious discomfiture.
“Now, Kate, that’s not
something a proper young lady should think about—or talk about either,” he said
disapprovingly.
“Why not, Papa? I think
it’s real interesting.”
“You know what Sherman
said about Texas, dontcha, KatieBee?” Before Royce could react, Nick hurried
on. “Said if he had his choice ‘tween Texas and Hell, he’d rent out Texas and
live in Hell.” He guffawed loudly.
Victoria shook her head.
“Oh, Nick.”
Kate giggled. “ General
William Tecumseh Sherman? Did he really say that, Nick?”
“So I hear.”
Royce cleared his throat.
“Yes, well, perhaps General Sherman didn’t know much about cattle country.”
Kate giggled again.
“That’s funny, Nick! Why did he say that?” Kate left her father’s lap and went
to lean against her brother’s chair.
“Isn’t it past your
bedtime, Kate precious?” Royce asked quickly.
“It’s only nine o’clock,
Papa!”
“And you’re in bed by
eight-thirty at home,” Victoria replied.
“But it’s summer! And I
want to hear why General Sherman said. . .”
Victoria rose. “Come,
Kate. I’ll brush your hair, and Papa will be up in a few minutes to say
goodnight.”
“Then Trevor should have
to go, too!”
“I was about to say as
much.”
Trevor glared at Kate.
“Snitch!”
“That’s enough, Trevor!”
his grandmother said pointedly. “The two of you need to put away the
stereopticon and all the views.”
“Are you going to talk
about Texas later?” Kate asked as she replaced the pictures in their box.
“Yeah,” Nick teased,
“after Annie Oakley is abed!”
Kate lifted her chin
haughtily and sailed out of the room.
“Regular little Sarah
Heartburns, isn’t she?” Nick grinned, helping himself to a cigar from the
humidor.
Victoria paused at the
door. “That’s Sarah Bernhardt, Nicholas.”
He grimaced. “Oh, sure,
that’s right.”
Royce handed him the
papers. “I’d like for you to look at these, Nick. You’re the expert when it
comes to ranching.”
“Sure—sure, I’ll look at
‘em, Royce.”
“I’ll just go up and say
goodnight to Kate.”
“Sure, Royce, we’ll talk
about it when you come back.” In the dozen years that his mother had been
married to Royce Wardell, Nick hadn’t forgotten his first anger toward the man for
stepping into Tom Barkley’s place in Victoria’s affections. But Royce seemed to
have forgotten it, and that was one of the many things Nick had come to admire
in his mother’s husband. And he had to admit that his mother had seemed to grow
younger, even with the responsibility for another child.
* * * * * * * *
“Ten thousand acres ain’t
penny candy, Royce,” Nick said as soon Royce and Victoria returned to the
library. “And they’re turnin’ a profit, too. Herefords—good stock.”
“I know nothing about
cattle, of course.”
“So you’re figurin’ on
sellin’?”
“That would seem the
prudent course.”
Victoria picked up her
embroidery and moved to sit beside her husband. “You could learn,” she said,
“but you’re so busy with your other enterprises.”
“Yeah, but with a good
manager on the place, you’d be okay,” Nick added. He shuffled through the
papers. “And this Hoover fellow—been there nearly twenty years—seems to know
his business.”
“I don’t want to have my
assets widely scattered if Victoria should have to take care of them later.”
Nick looked away. “Well,
Jarrod takes care of the ranch business. He could. . .”
“Royce is right, Nick,”
Victoria said easily. “I’m only a few years younger than he is, and Kate’s
guardianship, should she be left without both of us, should be as uncomplicated
as possible.”
“Yeah, sure, Mother.”
Nick rose and went over to look up at the painting of his father, which hung
above the fireplace. “Guess he kinda left a lot behind for you to take
care of, too.”
“Not really. Jarrod had
been managing everything for a few years.” She held the needle toward the
gaslight to rethread it. “Tom Barkley knew how to make money, but he did
business with a handshake. It wasn’t until Jarrod took over that it all went
down in black and white. Otherwise, things might have been a great deal more
complicated.”
“Well, I think you should
look at the place anyway before you make any decision,” Nick replied. “Talk to
this Hoover. He’s been runnin’ the place without any owner around for a long
time. Might be he thinks it’s better that way.”
“I haven’t a clue as to
how Judge Lyles ended up with ten thousand acres in Texas,” Royce said. “Maybe
he thought that John would take it over someday—after he left the army.”
“If you decide to take a
look, I’d like to go with you.” Nick blew a smoke ring and watched it rise.
“You’d be welcome to do
so.”
“Are you thinking of
going, Royce?” Victoria asked.
“I really don’t know, but
if Nick wants to go, I suppose we could make the trip. You and Kate would continue your visit here,
of course.”
“I think not.”
Royce frowned? “Pardon?
“Kate and I will go with
you.”
“Victoria, we know
nothing about the accommodations there, and. . .”
“We’ve never been
separated from you, Royce, and I see no reason to begin now.”
Nick laughed. “You’re as
henpecked as I am, Royce.”
Royce sighed. “It’s a
husband’s lot, I suppose.” He leaned over and kissed his wife’s cheek.
Victoria rose. “Would you
two poor mistreated men like some coffee?”
Part II
Kate pressed her face
against the window of the Barkley private car, which Jarrod had insisted they
use for the trip to Texas. “I think General Sherman was right,” she observed to
no one in particular. “I might rent out Texas and live in. . .that other
place.” She cut her eyes toward her father. “There’s not much here, is there?”
Nick stretched his legs
in front of him. “Well, it’s not California, that’s for sure.”
“This is West Texas, Kate
precious,” Royce replied. “But I understand that there are actually forests in
East Texas—and that it’s quite lush in the southern part of the state near the
coast.”
“You’ve never been here
before?”
“No. There were frontier
forts in Texas, of course, but I was posted in Wyoming and Colorado—oh, and in
Nebraska for a short time.”
Kate left her seat to
snuggle against him. “What was it like living in a fort, Papa?”
“Rather dull, actually.”
“Did you kill a lot of
Indians?”
He moved uncomfortably.
“I suppose I did, Kate, but it’s not something I’m proud of.”
“Why?”
“Because, in retrospect,
it was their land, and we were the interlopers.”
“But you were a soldier.”
“Yes, I had to obey
orders, but that’s not always a good reason for doing something.”
“Remember that the next
time you’re sent up to bed before you want to go,” Nick laughed.
“I will!”
“Don’t be cheeky, Kate,”
Victoria said.
Nick winked at her. “It’s
a tough life when you’re a kid.”
“You survived,” his
mother replied.
“Just barely. You wore
out two or three wooden spoons on me.”
“Were you cheeky,
Nick?” Kate asked, enjoying the exchange.
“Much worse than that,”
Victoria said.
“Now, Mother, I was. . .”
“A rascal. A complete
scamp. You gave me more white hair than all the others combined.”
“And you’re always
telling me I’m spoiled!” Kate pretended to pout in Nick’s direction.
“I think Kate is the
least spoiled of all my children—except perhaps for Heath.” Victoria bestowed
an approving smile on her daughter, who tilted her head saucily and wrinkled
her nose at her brother.
“That’s because you rule
her with an iron first,” Nick said half-seriously.
“Why, Nick!” Victoria
frowned at him.
“Well, you do, Mother.
Audra ran wild compared to what KatieBee’s allowed to get away with.”
Victoria put her lips
together in a thin, disapproving line. “Those were different circumstances,
Nicholas.”
Royce took out his pocket
watch. “It’s time to go to the dining car, I believe. We should be in Ballinger
by mid-afternoon. I hope Hoover got the wire I sent. I shouldn’t like to be
stranded in the middle of nowhere.”
Kate was
uncharacteristically silent during lunch. She’d seen Nick argue with Jarrod and
Heath—and even Gene—but never with their mother—and never concerning her. What
had he meant about Mother ruling her with an iron fist? The girls at
school said her parents were old-fashioned because she couldn’t do some of the
things they were allowed to do: stop at
the candy store for licorice whips after school, walk in the park unchaperoned
on Saturday afternoons, or take off her cotton stockings on warm days.
Mother had thrown out the
magazine that Amanda Perkins had lent her—saying that it wasn’t suitable for
girls her age. After that, Amanda hadn’t spoken to her for two whole days! Now
Nick was saying that—what was he saying? Kate chewed her bottom lip
thoughtfully, and for the first time in her short sheltered life, disquiet
stirred in her agreeable little soul.
* * * * * * * *
The small depot appeared
to be deserted except for a middle-aged man wearing the typical garb of a
cowboy.
“I’m Bob Hoover. I take
it you’re the Wardells.”
“I’m Royce Wardell. My
wife Victoria, her son Nick Barkley, and our daughter Kate.”
The men shook hands.
“You’ll be wanting the car uncoupled and put on the siding there. I’ll make
sure it gets done, and then I’ll help with your luggage.”
“I’ll go with you,” Nick
said quickly.
Royce looked around.
“It’s desolate enough.”
“It’s empty,” Kate said
flatly. “Where’s the town?”
“What there is of it
appears to be just over that rise,” Victoria said. “It’s not even as old as you
are, Kate.”
When the railroad car was
safely stowed on the siding, Bob Hoover and Nick put the luggage into the back
of the wagon. “I brought a couple of horses—not much room on the wagon, but I
figured the men might want to ride anyway.”
“I want to ride!” Kate
said quickly.
“I think not, darling.
Come up here with me.” Victoria held out her hand.
Kate didn’t move. “I’d
really rather ride, Mother.”
“The mare’s gentle enough
for the little girl,” Bob Hoover said. “She’s my wife’s.”
“I’ll stay close to her,
Mother,” Nick said.
As Kate mounted, Nick
winked at her.
“Stay over here on the
side, KatieBee,” Nick said. “No need eatin’ dust all the way.”
“It’s only about ten
miles out,” Hoover said quickly. “Ranch was here thirty years ‘fore the town.”
“You ship cattle by
rail?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, but from
Abilene—that’s north of here ‘bout a day’s ride.” He picked up the reins.
“Heard of the Barkleys in California. Three times the size of this ranch, I
reckon.”
“Just about,” Nick said.
“This place was part of a
Spanish land grant before Austin brought in his first settlers.”
“The Old Three Hundred,”
Kate said smugly, not looking to her parents for approval this time. How many
times had they reminded her that children should be seen and not heard?
Bob Hoover glanced at her
in surprise. “That’s right. Then after independence in thirty-six, it was sold
off in pieces—and finally put back together again in forty-five when Texas
became a state.”
“Who owned it?” Royce
asked.
“Family by the name of
Becker, but there weren’t any sons to take it over after the old man died, so
it sold again to a man named Trenton. He had five sons—all killed during the
war.”
“All of them?”
Kate asked.
“All of ‘em. That’s when
Mr. Trenton hired me—oh, not to run things at first. I was just a kid. But he
taught me about the place and about cattle, and I’ve been here ever since.”
“How did Judge Lyles get
hold of the property?” Royce asked.
“Well, I’m not rightly
sure, Mr. Wardell. I didn’t meddle in Mr. Trenton’s personal business, but I
think he and the judge knew each other from years back, and. . .well, I reckon
he got it to settle a debt. I never met him, you understand. But when Mr.
Trenton died, I was told to keep runnin’ things and puttin’ by the profits—and
next thing I know, I got word that the old judge was dead and that you owned
the place now.”
“I’ll tell you frankly
that I’m not a cattleman, but Nick is. He’s the one who suggested I look things
over before I make the decision to sell or not.”
Bob Hoover nodded. “Well,
the books are all in order—my wife Addie, she taught school awhile before we
married—went to the Summer Normal over at Daniel Baker College in Brownwood—so
she’s right good with numbers. Keeps two sets, see, ‘cause the judge always
wanted one set for his accountant to go over every year. Then he’d send ‘em
back, and we’d start over again. Copy just came back last week, so you’ll be
able to see both of ‘em.”
“What kind of
accommodations do you have for us?” Royce asked. “We don’t want to put you
out.”
“No problem, Mr. Wardell.
Addie and me, we have a little place of our own. The big house’s been closed up
since Mr. Trenton died, but Addie sees to it that it’s cleaned regular. So it’s
ready for you, and we hired some of the wranglers’ wives to cook and look after
things while you’re there.”
“Do you have any
children, Mr. Hoover?” Kate asked eagerly.
“’Fraid not, Miss. Just
Addie and me and. . .” He hesitated. “And my pa. He just came to live with us
couple a months ago. He’s been. . .” He stopped again. “Well, truth of it is,
Mr. Wardell, my pa went off to war when I was little, and he got in some kind
of trouble and spent the next thirty years in prison back east. Ma and I come
down from Ohio—that’s where we knew Mr. Trenton, y’see—but Ma always made sure
the prison folks knew where we was. She died a good while back, and then six
months ago I got word that Pa was bein’ turned loose. He didn’t—well, he didn’t
have no other place to go, so I went and got him and brought him here. But he’s
an old man—can’t hurt nobody.”
Victoria and Royce exchanged
glances. “It was good of you to offer him a home, Mr. Hoover,” Victoria said.
“Yeah, well, like I said,
he’s an old man.”
“Those trees look like
ferns!” Kate shrieked suddenly. “Look, Mother! Don’t they look like the ferns
you have in pots on the porch at home?”
“Them trees are
mesquites, Miss,” Hoover said. “Got long taproots that go way down so they can
get the water when it don’t rain. They’re everywhere ‘round here. There’s one
out back of the big house with a swing on it. Put a new rope on it myself when
I heard you was comin’.”
Kate beamed. “Thank you,
Mr. Hoover.” She rode closer to the wagon. “Maybe General Sherman was wrong
about Texas, Papa.”
Royce smiled indulgently.
“Maybe so, Kate precious. Maybe so.”
* * * * * * * *
The sprawling L-shaped
house made of rock and adobe gleamed white as snow in the late afternoon sun.
It boasted a red-tiled roof and a wide veranda that ran across the front and
down both sides. A pleasant-faced Mexican woman stood waiting to welcome them.
“This here’s Lupe,” Bob
Hoover said, swinging down from the wagon and offering his hand to Victoria.
“She speaks some English but not a whole lot.”
“I speak passable
Spanish,” Victoria said. “We’ll get along.” She smiled at the younger woman. “Buenas
tardes, Lupe. Como estas?”
The woman smiled broadly.
“Mucho gusto, Senora!”
Kate followed her
mother’s lead. “Buenas tardes, Lupe. Me llamo Kate.”
“Ah, que bonita! Bienvenido, senorita!”
“She thinks I’m pretty,”
Kate said in an aside to her father who spoke fluent French but almost no
Spanish.
In short order they were
installed in their rooms—long and low like the house itself, with cool stone
floors and wide windows hung with gauzy curtains. Victoria had to make it clear
to Lupe that Kate would do her own unpacking.
“But she wanted to do it
for me, Mother,” Kate protested as the woman, obviously disappointed, left the
room.
Victoria frowned and
seemed about to say something, but she shook her head instead and walked away
without even reminding Kate to put her things away carefully.
Kate crossed to the
window and looked out. It was a wild place, Texas, but something about it
excited her. Defiantly, she hummed a little of Sam Bass.
Carelessly tossing her
underclothes and nightdresses in the drawers of the small bureau—and not
bothering to hang up her riding skirts and waists, she slipped out into the
silent corridor and followed the ell to a door that opened directly onto a
small porch. A few feet away, a huge mesquite tree spread its branches over
most of the yard. Kate wasted no time in trying the swing that dangled
enticingly from the thickest branch.
Behind the tree was a
vegetable garden, and the Hoovers’ house, built in the same style but not as
large as the main house, was beyond that. Rather than a veranda, it had a long
porch supported by cedar posts much like the ones Nick and Heath used at the
ranch. At one end, his chair propped on two legs against the wall, sat an old
man with uncombed hair straggling to the collar of his denim shirt. The stem of
a pipe appeared lost in the thick handlebar mustache that drooped across
his upper lip and down each side of his jaw. Kate slipped out of the swing and
made her way through the rows of beans and tomatoes, stopping a few feet from
the porch.
“Hello.”
He squinted at her
curiously but didn’t reply.
“I’m Kate. Kate Wardell,
My papa owns this ranch now.”
He blinked once.
“We came out to see it.
We’re staying over there.” She pointed behind her at the main house. “We live
in Tennessee. Have you ever been there?”
He blinked again.
“We used to live in New
Orleans, but we moved to Nashville when I was eight. Papa wanted me to go to
school there. But my mother used to live in California, so we go there every
Christmas and every summer.”
She advanced and sat down
gingerly on the rough edge of the porch and studied the man’s face. It wasn’t a kind face like Papa’s, she
decided. His skin was gray, and there
were two deep furrows between his eyes. She shivered a little.
“Are you Mr. Hoover’s
father?” She remembered now that Bob Hoover had said his father had been in
prison for thirty years. No wonder he looked unhealthy.
“Why d’ya want to know?”
“No—no reason. I just
wondered.”
The front legs of the
chair crashed to the porch, and the man leaned forward into her startled face.
“Y’know whar I been fer thirty years?”
Kate swallowed hard and
nodded.
“Ever knowed any outlaws
afore?”
“I—I’ve heard about Sam
Bass.”
“Sam Bass! Nuthin’ but a
two-bit pussyfoot! Small time—he was small time! Not me—no sir, not me! Banks—that’s
whut I did—banks!”
Kate felt her fear giving
was to fascination—and the guilty knowledge that Mother and Papa would be
horrified to know she was sitting on the porch talking to this man.
He leaned back again and
regarded her with amusement. “So—you skeered o’me, little gal?”
She shook her head
fiercely.
“Wal, y’should be.
Y’should be real skeered.”
“Kate! Kate, where are
you?”
Kate jumped up and headed
back through the garden. Not until she was beside the tree did she answer, “I’m
right here, Mother! I’m coming!”
“Kate! Where have you
been? Lupe called us for dinner five minutes ago. Now go made yourself tidy
quickly and come to the dining room.” Victoria gave her daughter a gentle push
in the direction of the water closet. “Don’t dawdle now, Kate!”
* * * * * * * *
“Say, now, this is some
spread!” Nick unfolded his napkin and dropped it in his lap and helped himself
to a tortilla as large as his dinner plate. “Dig in, KatieBee. You don’t get fajitas
like this in Nashville—or even in Stockton!”
Kate spread her tortilla
with the meat mixture and rolled it up skillfully. She liked Mexican food when
she could get it, but tonight she didn’t feel particularly hungry.
“I told Hoover we’d go
over the books in the mornin’,” Nick said, “and then we’ll ride out and take a
look at some stock.
Royce fumbled with his fajita
before reaching for his fork to cut it into small bites. “I can understand the
figures, but the rest of it is up to you, Nick.”
“You see Hoover’s pa?”
Kate’s ears perked up, and
she hoped that Nick hadn’t seen her talking to the man.
“Not yet.”
“Crusty old coot.”
“Well, Nick he has been
out of society for thirty years.” Victoria poured coffee for her husband.
“Out of society?” Nick
snorted. “Well, that’s a polite way to put it. Wonder what he did?”
Royce shrugged. “I’d
expect it was something that happened after the war, but it’s really none of
our business.”
“Wonder why he brought
the old man out here?”
“Where else would he have
gone?” Victoria asked.
“Well. . .”
“Thirty years is a
lifetime, Nick.” Royce glanced at his wife. “A lifetime.”
* * * * * * * *
“Do you suppose he killed
somebody, Papa?” Kate asked when Royce came in to say goodnight. “Maybe he rode
with a gang—like Sam Bass or Jesse James or. . .”
“I told you that isn’t
something for young ladies to talk about, Kate.”
“I think I’m tired of
being a young lady!”
“Ah?”
“It’s not very
interesting—and it’s hard work always doing things right!”
“Like unpacking this
afternoon?”
Kate didn’t look at him.
“I—I guess I forgot.”
“Forgot, Kate, or just
didn’t do it?”
She didn’t answer him.
“Well, perhaps you’re
just tired, Kate precious. It was a long trip—even in a private car. Tomorrow
afternoon, when I finish some of my business, we’ll go down to Mustang Creek.
Mr. Hoover says it’s shallow enough in spots for wading.” He kissed her and
drew the cover under her chin. “Goodnight, Kate. Sweet dreams.”
* * * * * * * *
Royce blew out the lamp
and lay down beside his wife. “Is it my imagination, or is our Kate a little
out of sorts lately?”
“It’s not your
imagination,” she said firmly. “And Nick instigated it—saying that I ruled her
with an iron fist!”
“Have I indulged
her—spoiled her?”
“Perhaps you buy her more
material things than necessary, but you’re also quite strict with her.”
“What did you mean about
Audra growing up in different circumstances?”
“Tom spoiled her
shamelessly.”
“And you didn’t step in?”
“It was a touchy
situation. I’ve told you how we were physically estranged for many years after
Strawberry. Audra was conceived after we reconciled somewhat tentatively.”
“She was fourteen when he
died?”
“Fifteen. His murder
devastated her.”
“She doesn’t appear
spoiled—all her work for the orphans—and she made a good marriage. She seems
remarkably devoted to Don and the boys.”
“She turned out well.”
“I want Kate to turn out
well, too.”
“She will, Royce. You’re
a wonderful father—and husband.”
“Still, I’m concerned
about her.”
Victoria thought of the
wooden spoon that she was convinced had made the difference in her older
children’s lives—and wondered if Lupe had one in the kitchen.
Part III
Kate woke before it was
completely light and lay thinking about where she was. Truth told, she hadn’t
slept well. Sam Bass and his gang had chased her all over the ranch—which
looked remarkably like the Barkley Ranch in Stockton—while the old man with the
droopy white mustache had stood on the porch yelling, “Git her! Git her!” And
Nick and Papa had been nowhere in sight.
As soon as she’d dressed
and made her bed, she set to work organizing her clothes. When everything in
the drawers was refolded and placed in order, she shook the creases from her
riding skirts and waists and hung them neatly in the wooden wardrobe.
Feeling slightly less
guilty about yesterday, she hesitated over reading material to pass the time
until breakfast. There was her Bible—she was supposed to read a chapter every
morning and another every night—and a copy of Godey’s Ladies Book that
Audra had left behind for her on another visit. Soon she was lost in visions of
long dresses and real silk stockings.
“Kate? My, you’re up
early and ready for the day!” Victoria put her head into the room. “Did you
sleep well?”
Kate nodded—pushing Sam
Bass and the odd old man to the back of her mind. “I unpacked, Mother. Would
you like to see?”
Smiling, Victoria shook
her head. “I’m sure you made a lovely job of it, Kate. Why don’t we see if we
can help Lupe with breakfast?”
* * * * * * * *
At breakfast, Royce and
Nick announced that they would be spending the morning going over the ranch
accounts with Addie Hoover. Bob Hoover appeared from the kitchen and said he
was unnecessary to the going over and would be happy to show Victoria
and Kate the ranch.
“We’d love to ride,”
Victoria said quickly, and Kate nodded happily. She hurried through her huevos
y tortillas con queso—Nick grumbled under his breath about the lack of
steak, biscuits, and gravy—and ran off to help Lupe again. As soon as Bob Hoover came back with the
horses, she ran to call her Mother.
“Get your hat, Kate,”
Victoria reminded her. “The sun will be hot even this early in the morning.”
Despite a near lifetime on the Barkley Ranch, Victoria’s complexion was still
smoothly light. As Kate thought her Mother was particularly beautiful and
aspired to look as young in years to come, she never argued about wearing a
hat.
“The creek’s only about
two hundred yards from the house,” Bob said as they left the west veranda
behind.
“Does it ever overflow
its banks and endanger the house?” Victoria asked.
He chuckled. “Don’t rain
that much very often. I’ve seen the water come close—but it’s never gotten in.”
Mustang Creek—so named,
Bob related because of the herd of wild horses that used to live in the
area—was partially hidden by a thicket of live oaks and cedar. “This was
Comanche hunting ground,” he said. “A few still lived around here when I came,
but they’re long gone now.”
Kate inhaled the cool,
fragrant scent of cedar. “Did you ever see any Indians—or the wild mustangs?”
“There’re still a few
mustangs in the hills. Mr. Trenton used to round ‘em up and sell ‘em to the
army over at Ft. Concho. Sometimes one or two’ll come down here to drink, but
mostly you see deer late in the evenings—and jackrabbits.”
Kate thought of the rabid
coyote that had almost attacked Nick the previous summer. “What about—wild
animals?”
“Oh, I hear bobcats and
coyotes sometimes—not often.”
“What’s a bobcat?”
“Sort of like a really
small mountain lion. I found me a cub once—mamma died, I guess, and I kept it
for awhile. But then when it got big enough, I turned it loose.”
“Why?”
“Wild things belong in
the wild, Miss.” He pointed to the unfenced pasture beyond the creek and the
low hills that rose above it. “In the spring, all that’s covered with
wildflowers—bluebonnets, Indian blanket, brown eyed Susans—mighty purty sight.
But they’re gone by May. Addie, she’s got some seeds—she likes ta try ta grow
‘em outta season. She’ll give you some if you ask.”
“Would they grow in
Nashville, Mother?” Kate asked.
“We might try them,
darling. They must like sun to grow out here in the open without trees.”
“Yeah, they like the sun,
ma’am.”
Bob returned Victoria and
Kate to the house just after midmorning. Kate noticed that the Hoover porch was
empty and wondered where the old man had got to. He was there, however, when
she came out to the swing a few minutes later with a handful of still-warm
pecan cookies that Lupe had given her.
Inexplicably drawn to
him, despite his boastful attempts to scare her, Kate crossed the yard and sat
down on the edge of the porch. “Good morning. Would you like a cookie? It’s
still warm.”
His hand came out slowly,
and she laid a cookie in it. “We don’t get pecans in Nashville—mostly it’s
walnuts.” She watched him savor the cookie slowly. “You fought in the war,
didn’t you? My papa fought in the war.”
The old man regarded her
closely for a moment. “Which side?”
“His family was from
Tennessee,” Kate said carefully.
The man grunted. “Johnny
Reb!”
“He was a soldier in the
army before that. He went to West Point. But he couldn’t fight against the
South. It was his home. General Lee—Robert E. Lee made the same decision, you
know.”
“Traitors, all of ‘em!”
For once Kate didn’t jump
to her father’s defense. Mother had told her that Papa had followed his
conscience. That’s all a man can do, Kate. A woman, too. No one has to
defend himself for doing what he believes is right.
“Where did you fight?”
He shrugged. “All over.”
“Any of the big battles?
Gettysburg, Lookout Mountain. . .”
“Bull Run—both times.”
“Papa was at the first
one. One of my brothers was at Gettysburg, and the other. . .”
He snorted derisively.
“They were! They’re all a
lot older than I am!”
He reached into his shirt
pocket for a cigar, bit off the end, and spat it neatly over the porch railing,
just missing her head.
“My brother Nick was at
Chancellorsville. He came with us to look over the ranch.”
“What fer?”
Kate sat up straight.
“Because he knows about ranching and cattle. He runs the Barkley Ranch –and
it’s a lot bigger than this!”
“Sweatin’ never got
nobody nowhere.”
“What?”
“Easier ways to mek
money.”
“How?”
“Takin’ it.” He cackled
softly.
“Is that what you did?”
Kate regretted her question immediately, but the old man didn’t seem bothered.
“Sure did—took it from
fools too stupid to keep it, so they didn’t deserve ta!”
“That’s stealing.”
“So?”
“It’s wrong.”
“Not iffen ya don’t get
caught.”
Kate didn’t doubt that
Papa would tell her again that young ladies didn’t talk about such things, but
there was something oddly exciting about talking to the old man.. “But you got
caught,” she said boldly.
“Eh? Mebbe I did. What’s
it to ya?”
“Nothing.”
“Killed a lotta Rebs,
too!”
Kate felt her face flame.
“You sound like you’re proud of it.”
He grinned. "But th’
time I spent locked up—twarn’t fer that. Never got caught fer killin’!”
Kate stared. Papa had
said he wasn’t proud of killing Indians, but this man was bragging about
killing people and getting away with it.
“Wanta know about it?”
Before Kate could reply,
the Hoovers, Nick, and Royce came out of the house.
“Kate, what are you doing
here?” Royce spoke sharply, something Kate wasn’t accustomed to hearing,
especially directed at her.
“I—I was just. . .”
“Does your mother know
where you are?”
“No, Papa, I don’t think
so.”
“Then perhaps you should
go back to the main house.”
Kate scrambled up. “Yes,
Papa.” She didn’t look back as she threaded her way between the rows of the
vegetable garden.
Victoria was on the front
veranda reading. “Where have you been, Kate?”
“Uh—I went out back.”
Victoria regarded her
curiously. “I see. My, your face is flushed, darling. Have you been running?”
Kate nodded.
“Well, come and sit down.
There’s a pitcher of water on the table there.”
Kate helped herself and
gulped noisily—more nervous than thirsty. Her knees grew weak as she heard
footsteps coming from the side veranda to the front.
Royce walked straight to
her. “Kate, I don’t want you over there talking to that man again. Do you
understand?”
Kate nodded.
“Talking to what man?”
Victoria asked.
“Bob Hoover’s father. I
found Kate sitting on the porch with him.”
“Why, Kate!”
Kate studied the tips of
her riding boots in guilty silence.
“Don’t go over there
again.” Royce cupped her chin in his hands.
“No, Papa, I won’t.”
He kissed the top of her
head. “All right.” Turning to Victoria, he continued, “We’re going to ride out
after lunch. There’s a herd about six miles west of here that Nick wants to
see.”
“May I come, Papa?”
He shook his head. “Not
this time, Kate. You rode this morning, I believe. You stay here with your
mother, and I’ll take you wading this afternoon.”
* * * * * * * *
Later, Kate watched the
three men ride out and felt decidedly sulky. It wasn’t fair that she had to
stay around the house the rest of the day. Mother had gone to rest, as she
always did after lunch, and she was supposed to be in her room, too. But as she
stood at the back door, she caught the scent of cedar on the breeze and thought
of Mustang Creek. It was only a short walk, and Mr. Hoover hadn’t said that
there was anything dangerous around. Without stopping to weigh the
consequences, Kate stepped outside and started walking.
Finding a secluded spot,
she pulled off her boots and socks and dipped her feet in the water. It was icy
cold and tickled her toes as it ran across them. Lulled by the peaceful
stillness of her illicit hideaway, Kate didn’t even see the shadow that fell
across her shoulder.
Part IV
“Whatcha
doin’ down here by yerself, girl? Dontcha know it ain’t safe?”
Kate looked up into the
face of the old man. For the first time she noticed that his eyes were as gray
as his skin. And there was something in the way he looked at her that made her
more afraid than she’d ever been in her life.
“It’s safe,” she said,
trying to sound brave. “Mr. Hoover said there weren’t any coyotes or bobcats
around here anymore.” One hand crawled over the damp grass toward her discarded
boots.
“Weren’t talkin’ ‘bout no
four-footed things. Dontcha know th’ most dangerous animals is people?” He took
another step toward her.
She caught his scent
then—as if he hadn’t bathed for a long time—and there was something else—not so
much a smell as a feeling. Repelled, she grabbed her boots and socks and
scrambled to her feet. “I have to get back to the house. My mother will be
looking for me.”
He cackled. “Nah, she
ain’t lookin’ fer ya! She’s asleep!”
“How—how do you know?”
Kate edged away.
“’Cause I saw her.”
“You looked in her
window?” The horror in her voice seemed to amuse him.
“Shoulda pulled th’
curtains iffen she didn’t want no visitors.”
Kate’s eyes darted in all
directions at once, gauging the best way around the man who seemed much bigger
than he had before. Then, just as she decided to run left, he stepped back.
“G’wan, then,” he said, and this time there was no amusement in his raspy
uttering. “Git! Miss high-and-mighty little gal! But you ‘member—I know how ta
take kere o’little gals like you. Done it afore!”
Kate needed no further
urging. She fled, heedless of the sharp grassburrs that pierced the soles of
her feet. As she burst through the door into the ell, she collided with her
mother.
“Kate, where have you
been?” Victoria was angry—or as angry as she ever got—and Kate knew it. But her
relief at being away from the evil exuded by the old man was so great that she
welcomed even her mother’s stern demand.
“I—I went down to the
creek,” she said in a small voice.
“Why, Kate! I assumed
you’d gone to your room to rest. . .” She saw the girl’s wounded feet then.
“Oh, darling, your feet!”
* * * * * * * *
Kate lay on her bed
weeping silently as Lupe and Victoria picked the tiny stickers from her tender
skin and applied a soothing—albeit smelly—salve. Then Victoria sat down on the
bed and wrapped the girl in her arms. “What made you run through the grass
without your shoes, Kate?”
Kate squeezed her eyes
closed and shook her head.
“Something, I think—and I
also think you should tell me.”
“You’ll—you’ll be mad—and
you’ll tell Papa!”
“I don’t know about the
first you’ll—but as for the second, certainly I’ll tell your father. He
deserves to know everything about you.”
Kate burrowed into her
mother’s slender arms. “I—I wanted to go with Papa and Nick and Mr. Hoover—and
when I couldn’t I—I decided to go to the creek instead.”
“Without permission—and
worse, without telling anyone where you were going. What if something had
happened to you, and no one knew where you were?”
Kate hesitated a moment
too long. Victoria shuddered. “Kate! Nothing happened, did it?” She cupped the
girl’s face in her soft hands. “Tell Mother the truth!”
“Nothing—nothing
happened, Mother, honestly!”
“Something frightened
you—made you run back without taking time to put on your boots.”
Kate nodded slightly.
“What frightened you?”
“He did.”
There was no need for
Victoria to ask for clarification on who he was. “Did he hurt you,
Kate?”
“No. He just—just talked
mean.”
“You’re sure that’s all.”
“Yes, Mother, that’s all.
I’m sure.” Kate looked questioningly at Victoria.
“Oh, Kate, it would break
my heart if anything should hurt you!” She held the child’s head against her
breast and kissed her hair.
Kate burst into fresh
sobs at the display of emotion. “I’m sorry, Mother! I’m really sorry! Really,
Mother!”
* * * * * * * *
She was just waking from
a long nap—aware that her feet throbbed unmercifully—when her father came in.
“Kate, are you awake?”
“Yes, Papa.”
He sat down on the edge
of her bed, leaning to kiss her. “How do you feel?”
“I’m all right.”
Turning to glance at her
salve-swathed feet, he said, “Your poor little feet!”
Then he cupped her chin.
“Did you forget I told you that I’d take you wading at the creek when we got
back? Is that why you went alone?”
“No, Papa.”
“You worried your mother
very much, you know.”
Kate’s chin quivered.
“I’m sorry, Papa.”
Royce sighed. “Kate, I
know that you’re not a very little girl anymore, but neither are you a young
lady—a woman—yet. You must still trust your mother and me to know what’s best
for you.”
“I do trust you, Papa.”
“I’m not sure that you
do. These past few days, you haven’t been yourself. It’s as if you’re pulling
away from us.” He stroked her hair. “We love you very much, Kate precious. We
thought we’d experienced a miracle just finding each other after our lonely
years—but then we found you—and you were the sparkling jewel in our crown of
happiness. We want you to grow up to be a lovely young lady—to make your own
decisions—to find your place in life and to be happy. If we seem strict with
you now, it’s because we care so much about your future.”
Kate pushed her face into
her father’s shirt and wept again.
* * * * * * * *
“I didn’t like the
implication of what you said, Nicholas, and I particularly don’t like the
effect it’s had on Kate.” Victoria faced her son sternly. “Yes, Royce and I
have been strict with her, and we’ll continue to be so. You can’t compare her
with Audra. Your father spoiled her completely, and I was left to go on from
there. She was fifteen—a difficult age for a girl in any circumstances—but when
she found that I wasn’t going to be as easy as her father—you know what
happened.”
Nick’s face flushed.
“Yeah, I know. Why d’you think Father made Jarrod Audra’s and Gene’s guardian?”
“Obviously he felt I
couldn’t deal with them.” Victoria bit each word off angrily.
“Now, Mother. . .”
“Don’t patronize me,
Nick!”
“I didn’t mean. . .”
“Kate is mine, Nick—she
belongs to Royce and me—not you, not Jarrod—and God willing, we’ll live to
raise her to womanhood! Royce thinks because I’ve raised four children that I
have all the answers—but he doesn’t understand what it was like to raise four
children with Tom Barkley!”
“What are you saying?
That he wasn’t a good father?”
“You know I’m not saying
that! But you know the truth, Nick—you know that I was often treated as no more
than a child myself in that house! Yes, he was my husband, and yes, I loved
him! But he played the hero for all of you, and I picked up the pieces until
there were none left to pick up!”
“Mother, we’ve always
known you were strong. . .”
“Have you, Nick? Did you
really know that? Or did you just see me as being strong as I was allowed to
be—first by your father and then by you and Jarrod?”
“I—Mother, I don’t want
to fight with you. The four of us turned out all right.”
“Yes, you did, and I had
something to do with that—but only because your father was away enough when you
and Jarrod were younger that I had the opportunity to discipline you both—and
then you aided and abetted him when he indulged Audra and later Gene. Only by
the grace of God was I able to reassert my authority with Audra—and then Gene
fell into line.”
“I—I never realized you
felt this way.” Nick eyed his mother warily.
“There’s a great deal you
never realized, Nick,” she said wearily.
* * * * * * * *
With his mother’s
permission, Nick carried Kate to the dining room for dinner and, afterwards,
out to the veranda. While he and Royce smoked their evening cigars and
discussed what they’d learned about the ranch, Kate lay with her head in her
mother’s lap, feeling loved—and safe.
Later, when Victoria
tucked her into bed, Kate asked her to lock the window and draw the curtains.
“It’s quite warm,
Kate—wouldn’t you like the fresh air?”
“No—please, Mother, I
want the window closed—and locked.”
“What are you afraid of,
darling?”
“He—Mr. Hoover’s
father—said he looked in your window this afternoon and saw you sleeping.”
Only the tightening of
her jaw betrayed Victoria’s irritation. “I see. Well, in that case, I’ll
certainly do as you asked—and tomorrow I expect your father and Nick will speak
with Mr. Hoover about his father’s lack of manners!”
When she repeated the
conversation to her husband a few minutes later, Royce took her in his arms.
“Victoria, I have to tell you something. I think—I’m almost positive—that Bob
Hoover’s father is the man I set out to kill in that prison.”
“Oh, Royce!”
“The name wasn’t Hoover—it
was Cressy, Shad Cressy—but there’s something about him. . .”
“Do you think he
recognized you?”
“It’s hard to tell. I had
a full head of black hair then—but he might’ve recognized the name. I’m sure
he’s heard it from Bob.”
“Thirty years is a long
time, Royce—you said it yourself.”
Royce looked down at her
with a depth of sorrow in his eyes that she’d never seen before. “I wonder, my
darling Victoria, if even a lifetime can wipe out some things.”
* * * * * * * *
The shadow that slipped
past their partially-open window and stopped at the next—the one just to the
right of Kate’s bed—sneered into the darkness. Only one thing c’n get rid of
what you tried ta to do me, Mr. Royce Wardell. I hope she’s worth it to ya—hope
all three of ‘em are.
Part V
Victoria was up several
times during the night checking on Kate, and she noticed that her husband slept
restlessly, too. At dawn, she rose noiselessly, dressed, and went into the
kitchen where Lupe had just finished making coffee. “Gracias, Lupe,” she
smiled, accepting a cup.
“Como esta la
senorita?”
Victoria shrugged. “Still
asleep,” she said in English. “I’ll want to bathe her feet again today.”
“Si, Senora, Lupe
entiende.”
Victoria poured herself a
second cup and one for Royce and went back to their room. He was awake, sitting
on the side of the bed with his head in his hands.
“Royce, are you all
right?”
“I suppose I didn’t sleep
well.”
She sat down and handed
him his coffee. “You were rather restless.”
“Victoria, I’d like to
send you and Kate back to Stockton. . .”
“No.”
“Surely after what I told
you last night, you see the wisdom of leaving.”
“We’ll go when you do,
Royce.”
“That won’t be for a few
days—perhaps a week. We still have a great deal to see, and Hoover said that he
knew of someone interested in buying the place.”
“Oh?”
“They just came out here
from Missouri—leased a little place adjoining this one. But he says the man has
the means to buy.”
“Are you sure you want to
sell?”
“Nick offered to lease it
himself for a flat fee and divide the profits, but I’d rather sell and invest
the capital in something I’m familiar with.”
She leaned her head on
his shoulder. “I’m going to help Lupe with breakfast. Kate’s still asleep.”
“Victoria—if you stay—and
you seem determined to do so—then I want your promise that you and Kate will
keep to the house unless one of us—Nick or I—is with you.”
She kissed his cheek. “Of
course, Royce. Whatever you say.”
* * * * * * * *
Kate’s feet stayed
swollen and sore for the next two days, and she was content to stay in the
house or sit on the veranda with her mother. On the third day, Nick brought
word that there was a dance in town that night. “You can’t dance with the pretty
girls, Nick,” Kate teased. “You’re married!”
He grinned. “I got two
pretty girls right here to dance with!”
Kate jumped up, wincing a
little as she landed too hard on her still-tender feet. “I’m glad we brought
one dress apiece, Mother, aren’t you?”
“It’s always important to
be prepared for any occasion.”
“I’m going to see if mine
needs pressing. Do you want me to see about yours?”
“That would be nice,
Kate. Ask Lupe to start heating the irons.”
As Kate ran
off—carefully—Nick pulled a chair close to his mother and sat down. “Mother,
about the other night—I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I insinuated that you were too
hard on KatieBee.”
Victoria gazed at him
steadily. “Thank you for your apology, Nick.”
“You and Royce are good
parents. She’s—she’s a real special little girl.”
“Yes, she is.”
He moved nervously.
“Royce mentioned he might have known that old man before—that he might bear him
a grudge.”
“He might,” Victoria
answered carefully. It was obvious her husband had made only as much
explanation as he wanted Nick to have.
“Well, going to the dance
tonight has two purposes—a little fun, of course, and the man interested in
buying this place is going to be there. If that works out, we can leave early
next week.”
Before Victoria could
reply, Bob Hoover’s father materialized from the side of the house. “Mr.
Hoover,” she said coolly.
He looked at her for a
moment, then turned and left.
“There’s somethin’ not
right about that old man,” Nick said.
Victoria rose quickly.
“Nick, please go and see that the door at the end of the ell is latched—and
also the one in the kitchen. I’m going to find Kate.”
* * * * * * * *
It was eleven o’clock
before they left Ballinger that night. The evening had been a huge success in
more ways than one. Theodore Emerson and Royce had concluded a gentleman’s
agreement to negotiate the purchase of the ranch and stock based on an
independent appraisal. And Kate had captivated the attention of Mr. Emerson’s
twelve-year-old son Teddy. They had joined the square dancing with the joyful
abandonment of childhood—and when Kate had been forced to rest her feet, the
young boy had seated her in a corner chair and brought her a cup of punch and
three cookies on a plate.
“He’s going to be a
doctor, too, Mother, just like I want to be! Isn’t that fine? He has two older
brothers who want to be ranchers, so his father doesn’t mind that Teddy doesn’t
want to be. I told him that I was going to medical school at Vanderbilt
someday, and he said he might come to Nashville, too. Wouldn’t that be fun,
Mother?”
Victoria smiled into the
darkness as the wagon lurched over the rough road. “That would be lovely, Kate
darling.”
Royce rode up beside
them. “I know a young lady who was quite the belle of the ball tonight.”
“Oh, Papa, I wasn’t a
belle—but I did have a good time!”
“Young Teddy Emerson
certainly saw to your comfort.”
“I liked him, Papa—he was
certainly nicer to me than Trevor is!”
“Well, he. . .”
Royce’s words died on his
lips as a shot shattered the stillness of the warm summer night.
* * * * * * * *
“Royce!” Victoria reached
to push Kate off the box Bob Hoover had placed in the back of the wagon for her
to sit on. “Royce!”
There was the muffled
sound of a body falling. As Bob Hoover whipped up the horses, Royce turned and
spurred his horse back the way they’d come. “Nick!”
“Get down!” Royce fell,
his feet jerked from beneath him by a gloved hand. “What th’ hell was that
all about?” Nick growled in Royce’s ear.
“Hold-up?”
Nick snorted. “Not
hardly!”
“Are you hit?”
“No, but th’ bullet came
so close I decided I was safer on the ground!”
“Sorry, Nick—it was meant
for me.”
“You don’t know that.”
They lay still in the
road for several minutes. Only the soft, nervous whinny of the horses as they
pawed the dirt broke the silence. Finally, Nick raised his head, then sat up,
then got to his feet. “Guess whoever it was is gone,” he said, reaching down to
help Royce.
“We know who it was.”
“Y’can’t be sure.”
“I’m afraid I can.”
“Why would he want to
kill you?”
“Because I tried to kill
him.”
“War?”
“No, after.”
“Still wanta kill him?”
“No.”
Nick was silent a moment.
“Well, maybe y’need to tell him that.”
* * * * * * * *
A mile down the road, the
wagon was waiting, sheltered in a grove of trees. Victoria sprang down from the
seat. “Royce! Nick! Are you all right?”
“We’re fine.” Royce
wrapped her in his arms. “Where’s Kate?”
“Here I am, Papa. Mother
told me to lie down flat.”
“And I want you to stay
that way until we get to the ranch,” he said quickly.
“Let’s go on then,” Addie
Hoover said softly. “Mrs. Wardell, perhaps you should ride in the back with
your daughter.”
“I think so, too.” Nick
lifted his mother over the side of the wagon.
Victoria pulled Kate
against her. “We’ll be home soon, darling.”
* * * * * * * *
Nick was sitting on the
front veranda, his gun on his knee, when Bob Hoover called out, then came
around the corner of the house. “It wasn’t him,” he said shortly. “He was in
bed.”
“He coulda beat us here,”
Nick said evenly.
“Reckon he could’ve. Don’t
think so. Hope not.”
“You don’t know him—you
said so yourself.”
“That’s true. But he’s an
old man.”
“Did you check the
horses—see if one’d been ridden hard?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should’ve.”
“Didn’t think about it.
Is everyone all right?”
“I moved KatieBee’s bed
into her parents’ room.”
“Mr. Barkley, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, so am I.”
* * * * * * * *
No one mentioned the
previous night’s incident, but no one could forget it either. Toward noon, Nick
rode into town to telegraph Jarrod that they’d be leaving Ballinger on Monday.
He was drinking a beer in the town’s lone saloon when Bob Hoover burst in. “Mr.
Barkley! Mr. Barkley, ya’ gotta come!”
Nick set his glass down
so hard that the contents splashed the rough-hewn bar. “What’s happened? Is it my
mother?”
Bob was breathing hard.
“No. . .” He shook his head. “No—it’s the little girl. It’s Kate—she’s gone! My
pa—that filthy old man—he got her!”
Part VI
Nick hadn’t waited for
Bob Hoover to get the sheriff and a posse. Rage fueled by fear sent him riding
hard for the ranch. In the main room of the house, he found Victoria and Addie
tending Royce.
“What happened?”
Victoria was outwardly
calm, but Nick knew her too well not to discern her terror. “Royce took Kate to
the creek to wade this afternoon. Someone hit him over the head, and when he
came to. . .”
Throwing aside the cold
pack that Lupe had brought to stanch the bleeding wound on the back of his
head, Royce tried to rise, swayed dizzily, and let Victoria guide him back to
the settee. “I’ve got to go after them,” he muttered, but it was clear that he
was incapable of crossing the room, much less the range.
“Wait for Bob to get back
with the sheriff and a posse,” Addie said gently. “Bob knows every inch of this
place—he’ll find her.”
“Did he take a horse?”
Nick demanded.
“No—we checked that
first,” Addie said.
“Then he couldn’t have
gotten far on foot! I’m going. . .”
“Nick!” Victoria left her
husband and cross the room. “You’re going to wait for Mr. Hoover and the
sheriff.”
“Mother, every minute. .
.”
“Nicholas—I said!” She
returned to the settee and replaced the cold cloth on her husband’s head.
* * * * * * * *
Forty-five minutes later,
the men gathered around the table in the dining room where Bob Hoover had
rolled out a map of the ranch. “Which way d’you think he’d have gone from the
creek?” asked the sheriff.
“Well, there’s a line
shack north of there—about half a mile.”
“If he was on foot, then
that’s the best bet.”
“He wouldn’t stop there!”
Nick shouted. “He wouldn’t go there at all—if he’s got any sense! It’s too
obvious!”
Bob studied the map.
“Well, there are some old Indian caves northwest.”
Victoria gasped. “Not—not
deep!”
“No—they’re pretty
shallow, just rock shelters is all—except for one. It goes into the mountain
about fifty yards, but there aren’t any tunnels.”
“Did your father know
about them?” Nick put his face close to Bob’s.
“I don’t know what he
knew, Mr. Barkley. He’s been here six months—don’t go much farther than the
porch. . .”
“How about a gun?” asked
the sheriff.
“He—he carries a hunting
knife, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” Nick
raged. “A gun, a knife, it’s all the same when you’ve got a little girl. . .”
He stopped abruptly. “Mother. . .”
Victoria raised her face
from Royce’s chest. “You can’t say anything I haven’t already thought of,
Nick.”
“We’re wasting daylight!”
Nick exploded. “Let’s split up, and. . .”
“Good idea,” said Bob
Hoover quickly. “I think we should go north and west and meet.. .” His hand
moved over the map. “Meet here—at the caves.”
Lupe’s husband came to
the door. “The horses are ready.”
Bob nodded. “All
right—let’s go.”
Royce picked up his hat
and started out with the men. “Royce, you can’t. ..” Nick began. He looked at
his mother for support, but she just stood there.
“Don’t tell me what I
can’t do, Nick,” Royce said evenly. “Kate’s my daughter.” He turned to
his wife. “Victoria, we’ll get her back, I swear.”
She touched his face. “I
know,” she murmured. “I love you.”
* * * * * * * *
Kate had never really
been afraid. In her almost-twelve years, she’d known only the love of her
family and the security of her home. But she was afraid now. Even the terror of
that afternoon last summer when she’d shot the rabid coyote couldn’t compare
with what she was feeling now.
Her last sight of her
father had been his unmoving body sprawled in the grass beside the creek. She
supposed she’d lost consciousness, too, because when she became aware of her
surroundings, she was lying face down on a cold stone floor in a dark place.
Her whole body ached as she pushed herself to a sitting position and tried to
look around, but it was too dark to see anything.
Her first thought was to
try to find her way outside, but she decided against that. Someone would be
looking for her. Papa would be coming unless—she pushed the thought away. She
hadn’t heard a gunshot. Papa hadn’t been shot. He wasn’t dead. Oh, please,
God, don’t let my Papa be dead!
She leaned against the
wall and listened, but there was no sound anywhere. All right, it was dark, but
she was alone—nothing—no one was there to hurt her. Papa would come for her.
Papa and Nick. She would just wait.
Shakily, she began to sing.
Sam Bass was born
in Indiana, it was his native home,
And at the age of
seventeen young Sam began to roam.
Sam first came out
to Texas a cowboy for to be-
A kinder-hearted
fellow you seldom ever see.
Sam used to deal in
race-stock, one called the Denton mare;
He matched her in
scrub races and took her to the fair.
Sam used to coin
the money, and spent it just as free;
he always drank
good whiskey wherever he might be.
Sam left the
Collins ranch in the merry month of May,
With a herd of
Texas cattle the Black Hills for to see;
Sold out in Custer
City, and then got on a spree-
A harder set of
cowboys you seldom ever see.
On their way back
to Texas they robbed the U.P. train,
And then split up
in couples and started out again;
Joe Collins and his
partner were overtaken soon,
With all their hard-earned money they had to
meet their doom.
* * * * * * * *
By midafternoon, the men
were at the agreed-upon meeting place. They dismounted and drank from their
canteens, letting the horses drink from the branch of the creek that ran
through that area. Nick eyed Royce warily. “You all right?”
The older man nodded.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m going to get Kate,
Nick.”
“Sure—sure, we’re gonna
get her, Royce.”
Bob pushed back his hat.
“I just happened to think—the cedar’s pretty thick around the creek about a
mile from here. Make a good place to hide out, I guess.”
The sheriff screwed the
cap back on his canteen. “Why don’t you check it out—and some of us will make
some torches and go into the largest cave.”
Nick noticed that Bob
seemed to be waiting on something. “I’ll come, too,” he said quickly.
Royce leaned his head
briefly against his horse’s flank. “So will I.”
* * * * * * * *
As they approached the
wooded area, Nick drew up. “We’ll leave the horses here and go in on foot.”
Bob took his rifle from
its sling on his saddle. “I’ll go around that way—it thins out a little there.”
Nick nodded. “No shooting
unless you have to—you might hit KatieBee.”
Royce stumbled a little
as he started forward, and Nick caught his arm. “Royce, stay here by the
horses. You don’t have a gun.”
“I don’t have my daughter
either.” The anguish in his voice pierced Nick to the core.
“We’ll get her—if she’s
there, we’ll get her, but we don’t know. . .” A flash of red among the trees
cut him off. “Did you see that?”
“Kate! She was wearing a
red waist!” Royce jerked away.
“No, wait, Royce! Wait!”
“Kate! Kate, it’s Papa!
Where are you?”
Nick drew his gun. “Let
her go, Hoover!”
“Ya got the wrong man!” a
voice called back. “Name’s Cressy.”
Nick glanced sideways at
Royce, who nodded. “That’s his name.”
“Let her go, Cressy!”
“Don’t have her!”
“Then where is she?”
“You want me, Cressy, not
her!” Royce called. “For the love of God, she’s only a little girl!”
A chilling cackle
emanated from the dimness. “Yer right—she ain’t ripe yet! Not like th’ other
one!”
“What’s he talking
about?” Nick asked.
“Now th’ other one—she
was real nice, Wardell. I took my turn first when she was fresh, y’see. Twice.
Then I let th’ others have her!”
Nick saw Royce’s fists
clinching and unclinching in helpless rage.
“An’ ‘fore we left, I
took this here knife—yeah, I got it back when I got sprung last year cuz they
never knew whut I used it fer—I took this here knife and. . .” He cackled
wildly. “Too bad y’never saw whut I could do with a knife!”
“Where’s my daughter,
Cressy? Where’s Kate?”
“Tol’ ya—I don’t got her!
Never seen her since yestiddy.”
Nick’s jaw dropped. “I
thought. . .”
“I didn’t see who hit
me,” Royce murmured.
“I figured. . .”
“So did I.”
Part VII
Victoria accepted the
glass of lemonade from Lupe, but she couldn’t sit down. Continuing to stare out
the window, she inwardly cursed the desolate land they’d come to only one short
week ago. “Texas,” she murmured. “It is worse than Hell.”
Addie Hoover touched her
arm. “Why don’t you sit down, Mrs. Wardell?”
“I can’t—I keep thinking
it’s all a bad dream and that they’ll come riding up in a few minutes—my
husband and my son with Kate riding between them, laughing at some exciting
adventure. . .calling out to me that I’ll never guess. . .” Victoria’s voice broke.
“They’ll be back, Mrs.
Wardell.”
Victoria turned. “You’ve
been so kind, Mrs. Hoover,” she began, but something in the woman’s expression
cut her off.
“They’ll be back—just not
the way you’re thinking—hoping.”
“What are you talking
about?”
“There’s going to be a
terrible tragedy, you see—and then, afterwards, you’ll be so unstrung by all of
it, there’ll be another. We’ll find you floating in the creek where you threw
yourself, unable to bear the loss of your family.”
The glass almost slipped
from Victoria’s fingers. She set it down carefully. “Please explain yourself,
Mrs. Hoover.”
The woman moved toward
the door of the main room and closed it softly. “It’s very simple, Mrs.
Wardell. Bob and I have been here a long time taking care of this place for its
absentee landlords—it’s ours by rights, wouldn’t you say?”
“You obviously think so.”
The younger woman smiled.
“Yes, I do. We both do. And it will be. You see, we were able to get hold of a
copy of Judge Lyles’ will—and it specifically states that if your husband and
his heirs cannot inherit the ranch, then it becomes ours by default. You didn’t
know that, did you?”
“No.” Victoria sat down,
more to lull Addie Hoover into thinking she was calm than to calm herself. “No,
I didn’t. We only received notification from his lawyer that Royce had inherited
this ranch.”
“And now he’s going to
sell it—or he was. Theodore Emerson is rich—like you—like the Barkleys. And
he’s nobody’s fool. He’ll get that independent appraisal, and there’ll be
people here looking at everything—even my books.”
“Royce said the books
were in perfect order.”
“Oh, they are—the ones
that he saw. There’s a third set, of course—ours, Bob’s and mine—showing what
we’ve taken. It was no more than we deserved—no one’s ever actually paid
Bob what he deserved.”
“So you skimmed the
profits.”
Addie laughed. “That’s
right. And no one ever knew.”
“But you felt you
couldn’t continue with a new owner.”
“Not one that lives on
the place. He’d keep his own books.”
“I see.”
“It was meant to be—I
knew that when I found out about the connection between Bob’s father and your
husband. It will be so convenient for him to shoulder to blame.”
“And go back to prison?”
She shook her head.
“No—no, he’ll be part of the tragedy, too. Just an old man who hated your
husband so much. . .”
“Where—where is Kate?
Have you already killed her?”
“I don’t think so. It’s
all got to play out according to plan—and with the sheriff here—brought by
Bob—it will. There’ll never be any question about what happened.”
Victoria clasped her
hands together tightly. She and Royce had drunk their cup of happiness, but
Kate—she was only a child. Dear God, she deserved a chance to live!
* * * * * * * *
“Where’s my daughter,
Cressy?” Royce called again.
“Dunno.”
“You’re lying!” Nick
yelled.
“I don’t think he is,” Royce
murmured.
Nick frowned. “Then who’s
got her?”
Royce nodded to the right
of the thicket. “He does.”
“Hoover?”
“There’s no one else.”
“But why?”
Royce shook his head. “And his wife is with
Victoria.”
“Hoover! You hear me,
Hoover?”
There was a slight
movement. “I hear you, Barkley. We found him!”
“What kind of game are
you playin’?”
There was a brief
silence, and then Bob Hoover stepped into full view. “A game I’m going to win,”
he said. “This ranch should be mine by rights—I’m the one who’s kept it goin’
all these years. All you’ll do is sell it off again, Wardell—but Emerson won’t
live a thousand miles away, y’see. He’ll live here—and know what goes on.”
“Just what does go
on, Mr. Hoover?” Royce said.
“Y’think I’ve been paid
for all the sweat I’ve put in this place? Not by a long shot! Got tired of
it—so a few years ago—well, I told ya that Addie was good with numbers.”
Nick blew out his breath.
“He’s been skimming the profits,” he said more to himself than to Royce.
“I don’t care about the
money, Mr. Hoover. I want my daughter.”
“Sorry, Wardell, it don’t
play out that way.”
“How does it play
out, you. . .” Nick took a step forward but stopped as Bob Hoover raised his
rifle.
“Whut ya doin’, boy?”
Shad Cressy asked, showing himself.
“Nuthin’ I learned from
you, old man—I ain’t gonna get caught like you did.”
The old man cackled.
“Mebbe.”
“My daughter, Mr. Hoover.
Give me my daughter, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”
“Can’t do it, Wardell.”
“If you fire that rifle,
it’ll bring the sheriff and all the rest down here,” Nick said, playing for
time, his gun still pointed toward Bob Hoover.
“That’s right—and they’ll
see what happened. Th’ old man got my gun and killed the two of you—and then I
got yours and killed him.”
“I can fire before I
drop,” Nick warned.
“Not straight—not with a
bullet in your gut.”
“Nick, wait,” Royce
pleaded. He stepped forward slightly. “All right, you’ve won this round. You
can kill us—but let my wife and daughter go. They don’t know anything about all
this.”
“Ya don’t get it, do ya?
The ranch’ll be hers if you’re dead—and she’ll sell it, too. Told ya—don’t want
an owner living on the place—‘sides, Addie figured out how to get a copy of the
judge’s will. If you didn’t get the ranch for some reason, it went to me.”
“Then take it,” Royce
said steadily. “I’ll give it to you.”
Bob Hoover laughed. “And
just how long d’ya think I’d keep it with you still alive?”
“Royce, I can take him,”
Nick muttered under his breath.
The older man shook his
head. “Wait.” He took another step forward. “Is Kate still alive? Victoria?”
“Fer now. Soon as I get
finished here, I’ll take care of th’ little girl. See, the old man killed her,
didn’t he? And all he had was a knife—so I gotta do it that way.”
Even five feet away, Nick
was sure he could feel the tremor that ran through Royce’s body, but the man’s
ramrod straight posture didn’t waiver.
“And my wife?”
“Oh, she’ll go mad—wimmen
do that, don’t they? She’ll throw herself in the creek and drown when she finds
out what happened.”
“Hoover, you’ll rot in
hell for this!” Nick screamed.
The old man cackled
again. “Ha! Didn’t think ya had it in ya, boy!”
“You’re dead, too,
Cressy!” Nick called out. “Didn’t ya hear him?”
“We all gotta die
sometime. Just one thing—I wanta see him die first.” One bony finger
shot out in Royce’s direction.
There was a movement in
the thicket behind Bob Hoover and his father. “Behind you!” Nick shouted.
Instinctively, Hoover
whirled and fired—and a white-tailed deer bounded away. Nick fired, too, and
the man dropped where he stood. Royce started to run. “Nick! He’s the only one
who knows where Kate is!”
Turning the man’s body
over, Royce shuddered and slumped to his knees in defeat. The man was dead, and
the knowledge of Kate’s whereabouts had died with him.
* * * * * * * *
Shad Cressy shuffled
through the grass to stand over his son’s body. “Bloody fool!”
Leading the horses, Nick
joined them. “Cressy, if you know anything about the girl, you’d better start
talkin’!”
“Nah—nah—I dunno anythin’.
Mebbe th’ caves. . .”
“The sheriff and his men
are searching them now.”
Royce looked up. “He
wouldn’t have let them search if that’s where she was, Nick.”
Cressy stroked his chin
thoughtfully. “Thar’s anuther one—over yonder—sorta off ta itself.”
Nick reached down and
helped Royce to his feet. “You better hope that’s where she is, old man. Royce,
get Hoover’s gun.” Nick picked up the rifle.
“How far, old man?”
Cressy pointed. “’Bout
fifty yards.”
“How do you know about
it?” Royce asked slowly. “You’ve only been here six months.”
“I done some ridin’
along.”
Royce leaned down and
removed Bob Hoover’s gun from its holster, tucking it in his belt. “All
right—let’s go.”
* * * * * * * *
The three men waded
through the knee-high grass, skirting the thicket. A low rock overhang jutted
from the side of the hidden hill. “That’s it!” Nick said.
Nearing physical and
mental exhaustion, Royce managed to keep up with the younger man until they
reached the opening of the cave. “Kate! Kate, it’s Papa!” he called, fighting
for breath.
“Wait,” Nick said,
holding up his hand. “Listen.”
There was the faint sound
of singing.
Sam Bass was born
in Indiana, it was his native home,
And at the age of
seventeen young Sam began to roam.
Sam first came out
to Texas a cowboy for to be-
A kinder-hearted
fellow you seldom ever see.
A grin spread over Nick’s face. “That’s her! It’s
KatieBee! Keep singin’, darlin’—we’re comin’!”
“Papa? Nick?” A
small voice echoed from within the rock walls.
“We’re here, Kate!”
“Let me go in, Royce,” Nick said. “It might be rough
goin’. I’ll get her.”
Before he’d gone fifty feet, Kate’s small wiry body came
hurtling through the darkness.
“Nick! Oh, Nick! I knew you and Papa would come!”
He scooped her up in his arms and started back toward the
light. What he saw as he emerged made his blood freeze. Royce was leaning
wearily against the rock wall, and behind him, Shad Cressy’s knife glinted in
the late afternoon sun. And Nick had holstered his gun to carry Kate.
Part
VIII
“Royce!
Look out!” Nick set Kate on her feet and pushed her aside.
“Papa!”
Royce spun around,
instinctively lifting his arm to shield himself from the knife.
“Use the gun!” Nick
screamed.
Royce
grabbed for the gun in his belt. The knife slashed his raised arm, but in the
process, he knocked it aside. It clattered against the rocks and disappeared.
Later
Nick would describe the moment like the world was standin’ still as
Royce leveled the gun in Shad Cressy’s face, and Nick waited for the sound of
the shot which never came. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Royce hurled
the gun into the brush and turned to gather his daughter in his arms.
With an
agility belying his years, Cressy moved as if to retrieve the discarded
weapon—and, instinctively, Nick fired. The hasty shot went wild, but as Nick
stared incredulously, the old man turned chalk-white and collapsed. Crossing
the short space, he felt the man’s neck for a pulse. There was none.
Royce
was still holding Kate in his arms, the blood from his wound darkening her red
shirtwaist, when the sheriff and his men thundered into view.
* * * * * * * *
Victoria had done her
share of waiting in sixty-two years. Waited for Tom Barkley to take her to
California. Waited for grain to grow and cattle to fatten and for checks to be
written for their sale. Waited for her children to be born and for her husband
to return from his many business trips. Waited for his coffin to be lowered
into the grave. Waited and wondered if there was any meaning to be found again
in her life.
But this day had been the
longest and the most agonizing. Hearing the horses, she ran to the window—not
wanting to see the bodies of her beloved husband and children tied to empty
saddles—but unable to keep herself from looking and knowing the worst.
And then she saw
them—Nick riding beside Royce who held Kate in front of him. Her hand flew to
her mouth. “Oh, God,” she gasped. “Oh, thank You!”
For a moment, there
seemed to be no strength in her legs, but somehow she backed away from the
window. Turning, she realized that Addie Hoover was gone. Then she found herself on the veranda with
her daughter clinging to her neck—and her husband, one oozing arm hanging
limply at his side, holding her hand.
* * * * * * * *
Dr. Lewis snapped shut
his worn black bag. “Just watch for infection, Mrs. Wardell—the wounds
themselves aren’t too serious. He lost some blood, of course, and needs to
rest.” He squatted down beside the settee where Kate was pressed as close as
possible to her father’s side. “Now, Miss Kate, what about you?”
“I’m all right,” she said
firmly.
“You’re sure?”
She nodded.
“He—Bob Hoover didn’t
hurt you?”
“I didn’t see him. I just
woke up in that cave. It was cold, but. . .” She sat up and straightened her
shoulders. “I just want my Papa to be all right.”
The doctor grinned.
“Well, he’s going to be just fine. You and your mother will take good care of
him, I’m sure.”
Kate smiled back. “We
sure will!”
“Royce, don’t you want to
lie down?” Victoria asked.
“In a little while,
darling.” He reached across Kate to touch Victoria’s pale cheek. “Are you
all right?”
“Of course. Yes, of
course.” She read in his eyes that he knew she was lying.
He glanced at Nick who
sat slumped in the chair beside the empty fireplace. “Nick?”
Nick startled. “What?”
“Thank you.”
Nick shook his head as if
trying to clear it from some entanglement. “Why did you do it? He could’ve
killed you! He meant to kill you!”
Royce closed his eyes. “I
know.”
“You tossed that gun away
like it was burnin’ your hand!”
“Perhaps it was.”
Victoria touched his
cheek.
Royce met her eyes
briefly, and then looked back at Nick. “I’d have been sorry you had to be the
one to do it, Nick. Perhaps it was God’s mercy for all of us that it happened
the way it did.”
“It’s not that, it’s—it’s—hell,
Royce, I’d a-blown his face through the back of his head!”
“No, you wouldn’t have,
Nick,” Royce replied. “Not when it came down to it.”
When Kate shivered and
buried her face in her father’s side, Victoria gathered her strength to take
charge. “All right, I’m going to help
you clean up, Royce, and then you’re going to lie down. Kate, I’d like for you
to bathe and change, too.”
Kate got up obediently
and started for the door, then stopped and looked back. “Papa, was it my fault?
For talking to the man, I mean. I told him your name—and that you’d fought in
the war—maybe he wouldn’t have known.”
“He knew, Kate precious.
What he did—what the Hoovers did—that was their decision. You didn’t
cause it. And we won’t dwell on it. The important this is that we—you and your
mother and Nick and I—are all right.”
She nodded. “I love you,
Papa.”
“I love you, too,
precious Kate.”
She blew her mother a
kiss and, stepping out into the long hall, found Lupe waiting for her.
* * * * * * * *
Nick hadn’t moved from
the chair when Victoria returned almost two hours later. “They found Addie
Hoover—in the creek—like she meant for you,” he said without looking up.
Victoria drew a sharp
breath. “What happened?”
“Who knows? It’s over.
Th’ sheriff’s gone back ta town with th’ –bodies, but he left a couple of men
here. Said he’d feel better.”
Nick didn’t miss how his
mother all but tumbled onto the settee and knew that shock was setting in. He
leaned forward and took her hands between his.
“Mother, I don’t
understand what happened down there this afternoon—maybe I don’t need to
understand—but I’ve never seen a man refuse to kill to save his own life.”
“He was saving his
life, Nick.”
Nick shook his head in
confusion.
“And you’re right that
you don’t need to understand.”
He smiled a little.
“He’s—quite a man.”
“Yes.”
“That first
Christmas—when I punched him in the barn—he didn’t fight back—not even with
words.”
“That surprised you.”
“Yeah—yeah, I guess it
did. Funny thing is, after seein’ the way he handled himself this afternoon—I
keep thinkin’ he’s the bravest man I ever met.”
“Nick, barring anything
unforeseen, we’ll live to raise Kate—but we can’t just be concerned with the now—we
have to think about what she’ll remember about us—the influence we’ll have even
when we’re not here. Royce would’ve counted his own life well lost rather than
kill in cold blood, especially in front of Kate. He told me the knife was gone,
and that Cressy couldn’t do anymore damage. Of course, he didn’t see him go for
the gun, but he said if he’d shot Cressy, it would have been for revenge.”
“Didn’t the old devil
have it coming—revenge, I mean?”
“No, not anymore.”
Nick frowned. “I just
don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t, Nick.
Let’s just leave it at that.”
He squeezed her hands
gently. “Y’know, Duchess, I wouldn’t let it go for anybody but you.”
“Thank you, Nick.”
He got to his feet
wearily. “I’m going to clean up, too. Lupe fix any supper?”
“She has something in the
kitchen. I told her we wouldn’t sit down formally tonight.”
He kissed the top of his
mother’s head as he passed. “You’re quite a woman, too, y’know.”
* * * * * * * *
Kate watched Nick as he
helped hook the private car onto the train. “It would be easier if you were on
the other side,” she said earnestly.
He grunted.
“If you were on the other
side, you could. . .”
He lifted his head, which
made contact with the iron railing at the end of the car, and yelped in pain.
“Doggone it, KatieBee!”
Victoria bit back a
smile. “Come, Kate, don’t pick on your brother.”
“But Mother, I’m just
trying to help!”
“I don’t think he wants
you to help, darling.”
“Darn right, I don’t need
any cheeky little. . .”
Kate giggled and reached
for her mother’s hand. “Fine,” she said, lifting her chin imperiously. “I’ll just
take Mother’s iron fist and go.”
Victoria hurried Kate out
of earshot but not before they both heard Nick sputtering, “Iron fist be
hung! She needs the wooden spoon, that’s what! The wooden spoon, Mother! Do you
hear me?”
Kate smiled smugly and
began to sing.
Sam met his fate at Round Rock, July the twenty-first,They pierced poor Sam with rifle balls and emptied out his purse,Poor Sam he is a corpse and six foot under clay,And Jackson's in the bushes trying to get away.
Royce paused in his directions to the men loading the luggage. “Kate, precious, didn’t I speak to you about singing such songs?” “Yes, Papa.” He winked at Victoria. “Perhaps Nick is right, Victoria. Perhaps the wooden spoon. . .” “Papa!” The sound of their mingled laughter was sweet music in Nick’s ears.
THE END