Beneath The Texas Sky (28 page)

Night blanketed the Texas landscape in black frosty wool. Bethanie watched as Dusty helped Mariah down from the horse. By the time he turned to assist Bethanie, she was already standing beside her mount. The night seemed fluid with sounds. Ruth’s stories of a madman slaughtering Weston cattle for no apparent reason filled Bethanie’s thoughts now. A man strong enough to slit a knife deep into a cow’s throat would make quick work of two women traveling through the darkness.

“Did you hear anyone following us?” she whispered.

“No.” Dusty’s voice matched Bethanie’s low tone. “But the ground is so soft with rain, they could be half a mile back and we wouldn’t hear ’em.”

Bethanie unbuckled the gunbelt. “Dusty, take this.” She handed him the holster, knowing he’d need the weapon more than she would. She pulled a rifle from its sheath on her saddle. The metal barrel made a swishing sound against the leather-fringed casing. The sound echoed and joined with the wind as it rustled the dew-thickened leaves.

Bethanie watched as Dusty’s shadowy figure led the horses between nearby cottonwoods. He drew his Colt and silently moved toward the cabin in the center of the small clearing. Smoke twisted from the chimney, rooting its way into the heavy, foggy sky. No other life seemed
near. Bethanie held her breath, for this might yet prove a trap. She edged nearer to her daughter.

Bethanie swelled with pride as she watched Mariah standing erect in the face of danger. Mariah carried a rifle over one bent arm with the cool caution her father might have shown in danger. There was a Weston breeding of strength in Mariah that would allow her no show of fear, yet, as her mother, Bethanie could see Mariah bite the corner of her lip in worry.

Dusty reached the edge of the planked porch just as the cabin door swung open with a bang. A huge shadow blocked the firelight’s exit into the blackness. Both women released entrapped air in relief as Cain searched the darkness for visitors.

“Cain!” Mariah exclaimed as Dusty lowered his gun. Bethanie stepped back to claim her medicine bag as Mariah hurried toward Cain and the safety he offered. Bethanie smiled. Mariah was a headstrong and self-assured woman. She bore none of Bethanie’s hesitance or fear of life.

Cain sighed with relief. “Get yourself in here, girl, before you catch your death of cold. I got a good fire going and coffee boiling.” He moved toward Bethanie and the horses. “I’ll feed the horses. You go on in and warm up.”

Bethanie nodded toward Cain as he took the reins from her cold fingers. He always seemed to be there, ready to help. He divided his time between Mariah and her, but Bethanie knew he usually went with Mariah because he felt Bethanie would want him to. Many times over the years she’d tried to remember something she’d done to earn such undying devotion, but she could think of nothing. Bethanie patted his shoulder gently, the only gesture of warmth he’d ever allowed from anyone except Mariah.

Cain accepted her action with a stiff nod. “I’ll stay on
the porch and keep an eye out while you rest a few minutes. Ruth posted a man on the ridge by the ranch. If riders come near the ranch, he’ll fire three shots. I’ll stay out here in case they come from the other direction.”

Bethanie moved toward the house with a tired body and an aching heart. She knew they must make plans, yet all the alternatives looked bleak. If they tried to fight, Dusty might be dead before all the facts were known. If he ran, he’d be a wanted man the rest of his life. She’d seen a few men in the mining towns who were on the run. They were always in a hurry to move on and jumped at every sound. She couldn’t bear to think of Dusty as never being able to settle down. If he ran, he’d forever be an outcast. She fought back tears as she moved inside, suddenly wishing Josh were with her.

The cabin was little more than a line shack, probably used only during roundup. They would be safe here for an hour, maybe two.

Dusty handed Bethanie a cup of coffee. She looked up into his strong face. She hadn’t seen him in years, yet she knew he wasn’t the type of man to shoot Elliot Mayson in cold blood. Her mind turned back in time to those days when she’d tutored Dusty. The lovable, scruffy boy had vanished and long ago been replaced by the strong, handsome man before her. He was tall, with leanhard muscles from spending hours each day in the saddle. His hair was a little longer than stylish, with sun-bleached strands, and his eyes had a mature wisdom in their golden depths that could have developed only through years of making his own decisions. Something about the stubborn set of his jaw reminded her of Ben.

Dusty smiled at Bethanie and gestured toward Mariah. “The squirrel turned out all right, didn’t she?”

Bethanie’s laughter relieved some of the tension in her tired body. “Yes. She’s quite a headstrong woman. Has
she told you she’d planning on going to medical school even against my advice?”

“All I knew until today was she wanted to sell the ranch. It makes sense she would want to heal people, third generation. Your mother healed Josh during the war, you saved my life after the Indian attack, and now Mariah. I only wish she’d told me the reason she needed money earlier.”

Dusty moved behind Mariah and placed his hands lovingly on her shoulders. Bethanie admired his unembarrassed show of caring. He looked at Bethanie over Mariah’s head and added, “Mariah is Weston born and bred, so she can handle medical school.”

Mariah twisted in his hold. “Stop talking about me as if I’m some dim-witted little sister who can’t follow the conversation, or I’ll put your only good eye out of commission.” Mariah brushed her fingers lovingly over Dusty’s bruised cheek. “And while we’re talking for once, let me make one thing clear to you, Mr. Barfield. I don’t have to explain my actions to you or anyone else. But, when I have tried, I seem to remember you as a poor listener.”

Dusty groaned and pulled her hand to his chest. Though his words were cold, his hand spread her fingers caressingly over his heart. “It’s too bad, along with Ben’s courage and Bethanie’s beauty, you couldn’t have inherited some of Ruth’s silence.”

Passion and anger were warring across Mariah’s face. “Too bad you’ve lived with cows so long you don’t know how to carry on a conversation. I would gladly have told you about medical school if you’d have given me the time, but you were too busy second-guessing me.” Mariah pulled away from his touch.

“Second-guessing you? The only thing I can depend on you doing, Mariah, is doubling up that fist every time you get angry.” Dusty’s knuckles were white as they
gripped his gunbelt to keep from reaching out for Mariah. “I pity the man who’s stuck with you. He’ll need your medical attention after every fight.”

“And I feel sorry for the woman who marries you. She’ll be talking to walls for company in less than a month.” Mariah turned her back to Dusty and moved closer to the fire, but not before Bethanie saw a tear sparkle from her daughter’s cheek.

Bethanie could just imagine what the past few days at the ranch must have been like between these two. Mariah would always give as much as she took in love as well as a war, and certainly both were thick in the air between them. Bethanie interrupted. “We haven’t got much time. It won’t take the sheriff long to round up enough men. Most will follow our trail south, but a few may double back thinking we’ve tricked them.”

Dusty nodded and slowly moved to stand behind Mariah. She stiffened as he touched her shoulders, but she didn’t pull away. Dusty directed his words more to himself than to the women. “We can ride down to the ranch house, and I’ll leave you two there. I can take the back trail up the ridge and head north to Fort Worth. I know a few Frenchmen who might help me get lost.”

Mariah shook her head. “You can’t just run. We’ve got to stand and fight. You can clear yourself in time.”

“That’s just it.” Dusty kicked at the fire with his boot. “I haven’t got time. If I stay, there will be a fight, and men on both the Mayson and Weston ranch will die. If I’m caught, they’ll hang me on the spot without a trial, not that one would help much with Judge Carr on the bench.”

Bethanie paced the dusty floor. “Josh should be on his way here by now. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took the next train out after reading the note I left him. I would have waited for him, but I was afraid my uncle would be gone before I got a chance to talk with him. I
have to ask Uncle Wilbur one question.” Bethanie rubbed her forehead, pushing a strand of golden-red hair away from her face. “Josh still has friends in Texas. He can investigate, then set up a fair trial.”

“Maybe.” Dusty shrugged. “By tomorrow morning I’ll have a price on my head, dead or alive. My only chance is to get to Fort Worth fast. There’s a little French settlement not far from there called Dallas. The folks are mostly artists, scientists, and tradesmen. I’ve heard that they’ll hire anyone who knows anything about ranching and farming to teach them. They set up a new camp last summer across the Trinity River. I could get lost there and still be close to home.”

Mariah stood. “I’ll go with you,” she stated firmly.

Dusty’s face reflected Bethanie’s shock at Mariah’s statement. He cupped Mariah’s chin in his palm, a slow smile spreading across his lips. Their angry words seemed forgotten as their world narrowed to include only each other.

Bethanie didn’t move a muscle. She wanted to cry out for her daughter to stay and be safe, but suddenly, more than ever before, she realized Mariah must make her own choices. As her mother, all Bethanie could do was stand beside her decision.

Dusty drew Mariah into his arms and held her tightly. “No, darling,” he whispered. “No. I can’t take you into danger, even though the thought of you by my side is intoxicating.”

“I am going with you!” Mariah pushed away from him slightly.

“No. There are things that must be done no matter how two people feel about each other. I couldn’t put you in danger. It would tear away at the very rules I believe in. No matter how we feel about each other, we must think before we act.”

Bethanie turned to face the windows as Dusty’s words
tore at her heart. She understood Mariah’s sobs, for she had cried at almost the same words once spoken to her twenty years ago. Josh had broken her heart with his words of honor, yet she knew she wouldn’t have loved him so deeply if he’d shown less strength. Bethanie only prayed Mariah would have the understanding it had taken herself years to develop.

Before Bethanie had time to say any words of comfort, Cain opened the door. His tone was as cold as the air he let into the tiny room. “Riders coming from the north.”

Dusty headed toward the door. “Let’s race for the ranch. I can hide in the cabin, then take the back path over the ridge.”

Bethanie hurried to the porch. “Mariah, take my horse. You’ll make better time riding single. We’ll slow them down as much as we can. When they’ve gone, I’ll return to the ranch house with Cain.”

Mariah nodded, and she climbed into the saddle. Tears stained her cheeks. “Be careful, Mother.”

“I’ll be with Cain” was Bethanie’s only reply. She knew Mariah and Dusty needed a few minutes alone to say their goodbyes. She watched as Dusty and Mariah moved silently down the ravine to the south of the cabin. The mud muffled the sound of their horses’ hooves. They would be a mile or more away before the men, arriving from the north, could thread their way through the trees to the cabin.

Bethanie returned to the house and sat down to wait by the fireplace. She pillowed her head against the warm leather medicine bag and watched as Cain paced back and forth on the porch. The minutes dragged by and Bethanie’s eyelids grew heavy. She hadn’t slept on the train ride last night, and today had been endless. In her tired mind, her surroundings and her dream danced together as one. Slowly nightmare blended with reality, and they
were one. She was a child again in a tiny cabin. She could hear horses coming and men shouting…yelling something she couldn’t understand. She saw the shadow of a man walk in front of the windows as other men with torches rode up to her house. The men were arguing with the shadow on the porch. In her dream, Bethanie knew they were yelling at her father. She climbed down from the huge bed.

Bethanie jerked awake as a round of gunfire shattered her nightmare and brought her to reality. She ran to the door to see men on horseback surrounding the porch. Every other man carried a torch and all had their guns pointed toward her. She recognized the deputy whom Dusty had called Smith and a tall, thin man wearing black. The thin man might be twenty years older than the last time she’d seen him, but his snakelike quality had not mellowed. Bethanie would have known Wes Mayson even if he had been farther into the shadows with the rest of the men.

Bethanie glanced around in panic looking for Cain. It took endless seconds for her to realize that the crumpled dark form on the steps was Cain’s body. Bethanie ran toward him in blind outrage as several of the men dismounted.

The deputy’s whine sounded in the darkness. “I told him to identify himself. What was I supposed to do? Wait around all day for him to speak up?”

One of the men moved up behind Bethanie. “Hell, Smith, I don’t think the bastard was even armed.” He squatted beside Bethanie, showing only mild interest. “Is he dead?”

Bethanie ran her fingers along Cain’s scarred throat. The pulse was weak, but steady. “He’s still alive. Get him inside.” Her hands were shaking as she pulled at his side to lift him and felt warm blood run over her fingers. Cain’s blood.

Several men moved closer, offering reluctant assistance. They carried Cain into the cabin and laid him on the dirt-covered floor. Bethanie was so upset, she barely noticed several men shuffling into the cabin, watching like a gallery at a school play. She laid her rifle beside Cain and tried to remember what to do to help him. Tears flooded her vision as she examined his wound.

In the firelight she could see blood oozing from a wide hole just above Cain’s belt buckle.

“It’s a gut wound,” someone said as Bethanie tried to push Cain’s blood back into his body with her hands, but there was no way to stop the flow of his life slipping through her fingers.