Beneath The Texas Sky (15 page)

Bethanie looked down at her daughter nestled in Ben’s arms. She had black hair and dark eyes from the Weston side. “What shall we name her?” she asked as Ben folded the blanket closer around her.

“I don’t know. What was your mother’s name?” Ben gave Bethanie only half his attention as he answered, “Mine was Ann.”

“Mine was Mary, but I don’t like Mary Ann much. My father was named after the ship that brought the first Shakers to America. They called him Mariah. I think my mother would have liked her first grandchild to be named Mariah.”

Ben smiled down at the tiny baby. “Mariah Ann Weston. That sounds just fine.”

Ruth, heavy-laden with soiled sheets and towels, stepped from the room. A sudden scream sounded in the hallway. “What are you doing sleeping there?” she yelled. “Get out of my way, boy!”

Ben and Bethanie broke into laughter as Dusty, rubbing sleepy eyes, stepped into the doorway. “I was waitin’ for the baby,” he mumbled.

“Well, come here.” Ben beamed as he held up Mariah. “I’d like you to meet Miss Mariah Ann Weston.”

Dusty took the bundle carefully, his expression exploding with joy. “Looks more like a squirrel than a girl.” He looked up, frowning suddenly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean nothing.” He brightened. “She’s gonna be a lot of work, I figure.”

Bethanie laughed. “Not so much that we will have to drop your lessons.”

Ben reached and pulled Bethanie closer to him. “I’m the happiest man alive. I can even see the future. Someday, Dusty, you and Mariah will run this ranch.”

Bethanie squeezed Ben’s arm before she fell into an exhausted sleep.

For six weeks Bethanie slept in her bedroom with Mariah in a cradle at her side. Her body recovered from the birth. Finally Mariah began to sleep all night, leaving Bethanie free to return to Ben’s bed.

As she tiptoed on bare feet across the icy floor, Bethanie was reminded of the same journey nine months before. Who would ever have guessed Ben would have made such a fine father? He doted over Mariah almost as much as Ruth did.

Bethanie pushed the door open and saw Ben’s sleeping
form in the firelight. He rolled over and squinted his eyes. “What’s wrong, Beth?”

“Nothing.” She stepped closer. “I’ve just come to sleep with my husband.”

He was wide-awake now. “And do your wifely duty?”

Bethanie could see he was having trouble holding his features stern. “And do my wifely duty,” she echoed, as she had months ago when she first came to his bed.

“Remove your gown. I wish to see my wife,” Ben said as he folded his arms across his chest.

“If I don’t, must I leave now?” Bethanie asked, slowly unbuttoning her gown. She let the garment fall slowly to the floor. Her skin glowed in the firelight and her breasts were full from nursing. She watched Ben as he devoured her body with his dark eyes. Her hair was flowing freely down her back. She knew the newly washed mass was shining golden red in the firelight.

His voice was thick with passion. “You are my wife, and you are a beauty.” His hand gently touched her throat, allowing his fingers to slide along her body, stopping briefly between her breasts before continuing down. “Are you sure, Beth? It may be too soon.”

“I’m sure, Ben.” She smiled at his concern. Slowly, allowing him full view of her body, she circled the bed and lifted the covers on her side. As she moved beneath the blankets, Ben turned to study her.

“I missed you.” He reached down and lifted her hands to his lips. Bethanie moved closer under the protection of his arm.

The nickname “Squirrel,” which Dusty had given to Mariah Weston, stuck as the months passed. Allison came for a three-day stay before leaving to marry Mike. The newlyweds returned in a month, and with Ben’s help, bought the spread bordering the Weston Ranch. After months of running a hotel in San Antonio, Allison seemed more than happy with her small ranch house. Bethanie was thrilled to have her cousin as a neighbor. She felt a sense of family surrounding her in this vast land unlike any she had ever known. Even Ben seemed to welcome Allison, seeing her as Mike’s worry now and no longer a hindrance to him.

Ben drew Bethanie into the running of the ranch, more out of a need to keep her at his side than a feeling she would ever benefit from such information. Shortly after Mariah was born, they received a letter from Josh deeding his part of the ranch to Ben. Josh called it a gift to Mariah and future children, but Bethanie knew it was his way of saying he wouldn’t return. With each day, her memories of Josh were more and more a misty dream. Ben was her reality. Josh was now more a fantasy hiding in the corners of her mind, waiting to drift into her thoughts, finally bringing more pleasure than pain.

Josh’s next letter came just after Mariah’s second birthday. He requested a great sum of money in exchange for
half interest in a mine in Colorado. Ben sent the money without hesitation, commenting, “Josh wouldn’t have asked if he weren’t sure.” Then he laughed. “We’ll give our half back to him at the birth of his first child.”

Bethanie turned away, never wanting Ben to see the sadness that filled her. Josh had been gone almost three years now. He would never know his first child, perhaps his only child. His memory would never leave the hidden place in her heart, no matter how far he traveled or how many years he stayed away.

One morning in April, Bethanie was thinking of Josh as she cleared the breakfast dishes wondering where he was. Two letters in three years were poor clues. The man Ben had sent with the money for Josh’s mine had returned without any great wealth of knowledge about Josh’s life. Josh was working hard far up in the mountains of Colorado, near a small town called Thomasville. Colorado seemed a world and a lifetime away.

Bethanie brushed the crumbs around Mariah’s plate into her hand and lifted her head to allow the warm sun to shine on her face. The long, narrow dining-room windows allowed light to enter but weren’t wide enough for a person to pass through. Bethanie loved this room because it welcomed the morning sun. When she and Ben grew old, they could sit here at the table and drink coffee while their grandchildren played between the two huge elms off to the left of the porch.

Dusty interrupted her thoughts as he burst through the front door with his latest box of books. The boy was now taller than Bethanie, with hands and feet two sizes bigger than the rest of his body. The first light shadow of a thin beard peppered down his sideburns. Bethanie had a feeling that as soon as he could grow one, he would wear a short, trimmed beard just like Ben’s.

Mariah danced around Dusty like a butterfly. Her black curls bounced up and down just below her waist. “Dusty, please?” she screamed with excitement. “Please?” She knew only a few words, but they seemed to get her everything she wanted.

Dusty sidestepped Mariah, trying to keep from running over her. He might complain about her, but Bethanie could see the love and joy the tiny child brought him. “She follows me everywhere,” he grumbled. “I found her just now in the barn.”

“I know,” Bethanie answered, only half listening as she took the books from him. Ever since Mariah began walking, she had been in Dusty’s shadow. She was like a baby duck that bonds to the first moving thing it sees, then follows it everywhere.

“It ain’t right, a man having to play nursemaid all day.” Dusty pleaded his case as he followed Bethanie to the dining room.

“We’ll talk about it after we read,” Bethanie promised as she spread out the books.

“That’s another thing. If I didn’t have these lessons, I could be on the range with the other men,” he complained. “I can read and write better than any hand on the ranch.”

“We’ve been through this a thousand times. Ben and I want more for you.” Bethanie knew his restlessness was due more to his love for the open range than his hatred of books.

Dusty slumped in his chair as he mumbled, “Never argue with a redhead.”

Bethanie laughed. “You sound just like Ben,” As she said his name, Ben’s wheelchair rolled into the room.

Mariah jumped into her father’s arms, crumpling the papers on his lap. “Daddy, ride. Daddy, ride.” She squealed and pointed at Dusty.

“Listen, Squirrel, I told you I’d ask your dad, but I’m
supposed to be doin’ Greek mythology today.” Dusty smiled at Ben and shrugged hopefully. “It’s so pretty outside; I’d like to take her riding. She could sit on the saddle in front of me.”

“Go ahead, Dusty,” Ben shouted above Mariah’s squeals. “But stay in sight of the house. I need to talk to Beth for a minute anyway.”

“Sure.” Dusty gave a short salute before Mariah jumped into his arms. As he tried to pull her dress into order, Mariah yanked at his hat, completely destroying any style to the brim. “We’ll be back in a while.”

“But…” Bethanie began, then paused remembering how she’d loved riding when she was a child. “We’ll have lessons later,” she promised.

She turned back to Ben and was surprised to see wrinkles of worry cross his face. She moved beside him and touched his arm. “Dusty will be careful,” she began, then realized the children weren’t the cause of his alarm. He shook his head and touched his finger to his lips, cautioning her to wait until they were well out of hearing range.

Bethanie knelt beside his chair. “What is it, Ben?” she whispered.

“It’s Mayson.” Ben pounded his fist against the table. “I thought when we spoiled his plan to monopolize the cattle in Texas three years ago, he would give up.”

“Ben, tell me!” She was as involved in the running of the ranch as Ben, and a sudden fear gripped her. Mayson was an evil man, capable of twisting the law, and most people, to his advantage. He made a great show of being a family man and a good Texan. He even counted among his friends judges and lawmen, but treachery followed him like a scent. Unseen, unheard, but always present.

Ben folded the paper across his leg. “I just got word that he’s worked a deal with the renegade Indians who’ve
left the reservation. They burn out small ranches; then Mayson moves in and sweeps the cattle off the land.”

“That’s terrible.” Bethanie thought of Mike and Allison on their little ranch only miles away. If they were attacked, even if Ben heard the gunfire, they would all be killed before he could round up enough men to help. “Have they any proof it’s Wes Mayson?”

“None.” Ben shook his head. “But I’m organizing the ranchers now. We’ll send word to Fort Worth. I doubt anyone will come on just a rumor.”

Bethanie stood and nervously stacked the dirty dishes. These had been bloody years in Texas, and she’d prayed many times for a solution to the Indian problem. Though she felt safe here with as many as a hundred hands around and three sides of the house protected, the stories of attacks still frightened her. She’d seen too many ugly hulls of homes, burned to the ground while lives and dreams vanished like the smoke. Once a Ranger stopped by to talk with Ben. He’d pulled a string of scalps from his saddlebag, saying he’d taken them from an Indian who’d meant to add the Ranger’s hair to the collection. Bethanie had been unable to take her eyes from the knots of hair, some blond, some brown, and some as black as little Mariah’s curls.

Ben took her hand. “I’ll send a man over this afternoon for Allison.”

Bethanie nodded. “I’d worry less about her if she could be here, at least until the branding is over and Mike can be home.” She smiled to herself as she thought of Allison and wondered if her tiny cousin was showing yet with child. Bethanie was happy for Allison and Mike and excited about the baby. Each day Mariah grew, Bethanie’s arms ached to hold a baby once more. Maybe soon she would have another, but for now she would be satisfied to spoil the baby Mike had already informed everyone was a boy.

Gunfire shook her concentration, and she felt every nerve in her body jump to life. Mariah was her first thought as she ran for the door. Ben was behind her as Bethanie reached the porch. Another volley of gunshots thundered across the land as Dusty galloped toward the house. Mariah was nestled tightly in his arms.

Dusty swung himself from the saddle with Mariah tucked like a sack of flour under one arm. She laughed and wiggled with glee. “More, more,” she cried as Dusty handed her into Bethanie’s open arms. Another round of signal shots rumbled across the ridge as Bethanie hugged her child to her.

Dusty’s face was pale, and his light brown eyes were alive with panic. “Indians!” He barely breathed the word over Mariah’s yelling. There was no hint of the exciting adventure that had been in his eyes three years ago on the trip from San Antonio. He was too much a man now. He knew what was at stake.

Bethanie’s face drained of blood as she tried to remember not to frighten Mariah. She lowered her to the ground. “Run tell Ruth how fast you rode the horse, darling.” Before she finished the last word, Mariah was running into the house. Bethanie was unable to control the shaking that was overtaking her. She, like Dusty, had seen too much in the past three years.

Bethanie looked from Ben to Dusty. “They’re not coming here?”

Ben looked knowingly at Dusty and nodded a silent command.

“No, Ben! Not here,” Bethanie repeated.

Dusty bolted for the bunkhouse to find the few men left on the ranch. Most of the men were miles away with the spring branding. Another round of gunfire sounded and echoed off the ridge behind the house. The signal shots were closer.

Ben whirled his chair and headed for the gun rack. As
he pulled down rifle after rifle, Bethanie began to panic. “Ben, they wouldn’t attack here…would they?”

“If they do, they’re fools. The only way they could hit us is from the front. They’ll lose ten or more to our one.” He paused a moment to study her. “Now don’t worry, Beth. I’ve got three men besides Dusty here. We can hold them off forever if need be. You and Mariah go with Ruth. She knows where to hide.” Ben shoved bullets into the chamber.

“No!” Bethanie yelled above the clamor of cowboys entering the house with Dusty. They began frantically loading rifles. “I’m staying here with you. I can shoot.”

Ben looked at her with a sudden rage, then softened before he spoke. “We have no time to argue this one, Beth. I want you safe with Mariah.”

Tears were forming in her eyes, blurring her vision into a nightmarish scene. She could not leave him, not even to be with Mariah. Her place was with her husband. She had to make him understand. She shook her head, denying his command and moved closer to him. Her hand slid from the back of his chair to his shoulder. She belonged at his side.

“Beth,” he whispered. “I’m a man, and I must defend what is mine. I love you dearly, but you have to stay with Mariah. I’d be less of a man if I couldn’t protectmy family.” He pulled her hand from his shoulder and held her fingers tightly in his grip.

Bethanie knew she could argue no more. To do so would question his manhood. “But Dusty?” she cried.

“Dusty’s old enough,” Ben answered.

“But…” Bethanie began, as Dusty interrupted.

“I’m stayin’ with Ben,” he stated flatly, reflecting the strength of character within him. Now he must do what had to be done, yet he’d not even had his first shave. He set his jaw as he lifted his rifle. Bethanie saw a glimpse of the strong adult he would soon become.

Ruth came from the kitchen, a basket on one arm and Mariah under the other. She nodded at Bethanie, but her eyes showed her fright. “Kiss your daddy, Mariah. We’re going on an adventure.” As the child left Ruth’s arms, Ruth lifted the old Walker-Colt from the bottom drawer of Ben’s desk and began wrapping it in a towel.

Mariah ran to Ben and scrambled into his lap. He held her tight. Closing his eyes he pulled her head to his heart.

Mariah turned to Dusty. She held out her arms to him, and the boy lifted her tiny doll-like body. “Bye, Squirrel, see you later.”

Bethanie knelt and kissed Ben. “I’ll see you later, too,” she whispered.

Ben’s strong hands cupped her face as he looked deep into her eyes. “You’re my life, Beth,” he whispered in a low voice. Then, embarrassed by his words while others were around, he pulled away and moved back to the men.

Before she could change her mind, Bethanie followed Ruth out the back of the house to a small dugout used as a root cellar. The half-buried building was nestled in the cliff’s edge. Ruth went in first and lit a lamp. As Bethanie stepped into the area, she was shocked to see Ruth removing boards from the back wall of the cellar. Within seconds, a dark opening, almost as tall as Bethanie, revealed the entrance to a cave.

Ruth picked up the basket with one hand and the lamp with the other. “This was here when they built the ranch,” she explained. “It was Mike’s idea to build the dugout in front. But for years, with just men around, no one ever used the cave.”

Bethanie followed Ruth. Spiderwebs brushed her face as they moved several feet back to the natural tunnel. The moldy smell of damp earth and rotting burlap assaulted her senses as their shadows danced like deformed creatures with each swing of the lamp. She wanted to run back to Ben and demand to fight alongside him.
Anything would be better than hiding in this hole, waiting, not knowing. But Ben was right; they had to think of Mariah.

Ruth stopped after several yards. “The cave doesn’t go back much farther. This is far enough to be able to leave the light on.” She spread a blanket for Mariah beside the low light of the lantern. “I’ll go back and close up the wall,” she whispered.

Soon Ruth returned, and the women sat silently as Mariah played with finger shadows on the wall of the cave. The child finally grew bored and fell asleep.

Bethanie strained her ears as gunfire grew nearer. In the tomb of this cave, Bethanie couldn’t tell if the shots were far away or echoes of constant firing only yards outside. Finally she could stand the suspense no longer. “Stay with Mariah,” she whispered. “I’m going to try to look out.” Ruth shook her head, but Bethanie stood and felt her way through the dark hole.