Catch a Shooting Star jd edit 03 12 2012 html (40 page)

Travis looked amazed at the boy who had only spoken Spanish since he’d met him and he said with a boisterous voice, “Well, look who talks like a Texan!”

They all laughed and the boy squirmed deeper into Jake’s arms, suddenly, seemingly afraid of the man whose booming voice sounded quite intimidating.

“Look,” Margaret scolded Travis.  “You scared him.”

“Naw,” Travis argued amiably as he stood up and went to Jake to take the boy into his arms.  He tickled the child’s tiny belly and chuckled at his reaction as Benny giggled and wrestled his large hand with both of his as he declared, “Why, Benny and me are old friends, right kid?”

Benny nodded with a shy smile, his black eyes reflecting the growing love for this giant of a man who had pulled him aside several times during their journey from Mexico and had slipped him a cube of sugar or had spoken to him in his native Spanish with endearing words of encouragement.  With each interaction while on the trail, Benny had become more attached to Travis, looking up to him as his defender, his mentor and his protector.  All the while, the child had pushed aside his fondness for the man who had been his father, the man who had only given him snippets of time which had been strained and suspiciously insincere, obvious even to a trusting two-year-old.  Benito saw in this new man’s eyes, in the way that he winked at him or tousled is hair in affectionate jest, that he was genuine, caring and kind.

Travis hugged Benny, who clung to him as if he was the only person who could protect him from the nightmares that had plagued him his entire diminutive life.  There, between them, silent and unspoken, was a bond that no one, not even his mother, could understand, much less comprehend.  This was a connection that only son could establish with father, whether blood existed between them or not.

Peace, serene peace bourgeoned on the porch while all present witnessed the interaction between the hulk of a man and the tiny boy who swelled with pride that Travis obviously adored him before someone finally, albeit hesitantly, broke the spell.

“Well, I suppose I should get started on supper,” Margaret announced as she stood to go into the kitchen.

“I’ll help you,” Savannah said as she, too, rose to her feet.

“Wait a minute,” Travis told her as he took her elbow into his hand and held her back.  “I thought we’d stay out here and talk.”

Margaret took Benny’s hand and said, “That will be fine.  I’ll make something very special for a special little man.  What’s your favorite thing to eat, Benny?”

“Sugar!” he announced excitedly and then ducked his chin to his chest when they all laughed and agreed wholeheartedly with him.

“I think I can find something a little more nutritious that you would like,” Margaret told him as she led him into the kitchen, followed by Jake, who clapped the boy affectionately on his rear-end.

When they were alone, Travis paused a moment before he stepped closer to Savannah.  Inside, he wrestled with the torment of that one little word, which had just been uttered by Benito but a word that reminded him of his Hannah, whose anguished face still haunted him.  A sweet little word, which had described his daughter’s favorite treat, had also been spoken by the boy whom he thought of as a son.  A moment of reflection suspended his intention, taking him back to that dreadful day when he had parted with Hannah, to face his future and, ultimately, his true destiny. 

He wondered, in his tormented mind, how he could break his daughter’s adoring heart in order to chase a manifestation of festering vengeance while finding a love that could increase beyond his wildest dreams.

He took Savannah’s shoulders into his palms and turned her to face him as he looked deeply into her eyes and said, “I hope you don’t mind…”

“No, not at all,” she repeated the same statement as before, shaking her head.  “It seems like we haven’t talked in days.”

Travis lowered his eyes and appeared to be overtaken by sudden sadness when he said without looking at her, “I know.  I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

Feeling that this was his way of admitting that he was indeed angry at her for killing her husband, she pulled from his grip and stepped away from him, and walking to the rail to lean on the column, she almost whispered, “I told you I was sorry about killing Diego.”

Travis strode purposefully to her and pulled her back into his chest with such force that she feared that she would stumble over his large boots.  He whispered almost angrily into her ear, “And I told you that it didn’t matter.  I thought we had settled that matter.”

“I thought so too,” she agreed, but sighed heavily before she continued while staring at the moon that seemed so out of place in a blue sky, “But you have been so aloof.”

“I told you that I’ve been doing some thinking,” he said more calmly. 

“What about?” she asked as she turned to face him, her eyes welling up with tears, thinking now that he was about to tell her that he was finished with her, that he would leave her forever.

And when he opened his mouth to speak, his shaking voice told her that her fears had been correct.  Savannah cocked her head in disbelief, in confused anxiety while her worst suspicions overtook her as she heard him say, “I’ve got to get back to Galveston.  There’s something that I need to take care of.”

Anger began to seep its vicious venom into her breaking heart as she summoned the courage to ask if she would be invited to join him, but his answer stunned her into angrily holding her tongue. 

Travis paused just long enough for Savannah to open her mouth and then he continued, “And you and Benny are going back to Georgia to claim your home.”

Stunned, confused and confounded, she sucked in a long, thoughtful breath before she asked, “How can I?”  She folded her arms in front of her when she told him what he should have already known, “Diego owns it—owned it.  He’s probably already sold it by now.”

“Not exactly,” he started before he looked her in the eyes.  “He never really did own it so he had no authority to sell it.”

Surprised by the revelation, her resentment subsiding suddenly, Savannah coughed and when she regained her composure, she asked, “How can that be?”

Travis shifted his stance before he answered, “A long time ago, your ancestors made sure that the plantation would always stay in the family as long as an heir exists.  You were that heir, that is, until Benito was born.  He was the key to the ownership of the plantation and El Diablo knew that from the start.  That’s why he married you and that’s why he got you pregnant.  And that’s why he kept you bedridden and told you that your son was dead, so that you couldn’t claim ownership and ruin his plans.”

Taken aback, Savannah gulped in disbelief, digesting the words that he had spoken.  She stared at her wringing hands and asked, “He knew all along that the land was to stay in the family?”

“Yep,” he said quickly.

“And that is what you couldn’t tell me earlier that might change my life?” she asked, finally realizing his motives for keeping the secret. 

“Yes, I was afraid that if I had told you, you would have put off your mission to get your son back.” 

“I wouldn’t have done that,” she assured him.  “But I would have wanted to kill Diego on the spot for lying to me, for using me and my son.”

“Yep, that’s what I figured,” Travis said with a nod.  Then, he leaned closer to her as he added, “He knew about something else, too.”

“Whatever could that be?” she asked, still amazed that she had been kept in the dark all these years.

“The treasure that is buried somewhere on the plantation.  He just needed you to die and to use your son as the heir to the plantation and he could be the executor to all that it held.”

Savannah mulled these words in her mind, trying to comprehend the immense implications that this news entailed.  Suddenly, the realization that her husband had used her from the beginning, used her father, used her life, used her home to his own agenda and she seethed with indignation at the knowledge that her life had been nothing but a tactic to gain more prosperity than Diego had already enjoyed.  If the man was not dead already, she would have wanted to tear him limb from limb to make him pay for what he did to her and her family.  But her mind pushed that anger aside when confusion took over.

“What treasure?” was all that she could spit out.

“The things that all the Southern supporters gathered together for the war effort,” he explained.

“How do you know this?” she asked, still perplexed.

“Tito gave me the letters that describe the whereabouts of the treasure,” he said. “He found them at the house where you and El Diablo lived, in the library.  Who knows how your husband got his hands on them.”

He paused, seeing the indignation return to her face before he added, “Tito wanted you to have them.  They’re right here in my pocket...”

“N—No, they’ll not do me any good,” she stuttered at first, and then finished with decided finality in her voice.

“Why not?” Travis asked, cocking his head in confusion.

 “I can’t keep any of it,” she announced matter-of-factly, shaking her head and waving her hands into the air.

“I don’t expect you to,” he agreed, finally understanding her motives. “Except the things that your family donated.”

“My family contributed?” she asked.  “So why didn’t they go and retrieve the items?”

“Maybe they did already, maybe not.  I’m not sure.  According to this manifest, there are several very expensive things that your family contributed and then there are the gold coins.”

As he handed the letters to her, she opened one of them and looked it over before asking, “Gold?  Why would Father not go and get those coins when he knew that he needed money to pay the mortgage?”  She then sucked in a quick breath to continue her questions, for which she knew he would not have an answer, “Why would he force me to marry Diego when he had that money hidden away and could have used it instead of making me marry that devil?”

“I don’t know, Savannah,” Travis said almost apologizing for her father’s actions.  “But there must have been a damn good reason for it.  Read these letters, maybe they will give you some answers.”

Ignoring his last statement, she asked while slipping the first letter back into the stack, “So, where is it all hidden?”

“I don’t know, I’ll show you the map,” he answered, taking the stack from her and searching for the one that Tito had showed him.  “Maybe you can figure it out.  There’s something about an underground catacomb and a well...”

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” she started and then suddenly, she realized that the well in question must be the one that she and her brother had hid with Bessie years ago and her face lit up with recollection.  “Yes, a well!”

“It’s on the map,” he told her, nodding once and pointing to the map in his hand before he handed it to her.

“Then, I suppose we should go back and find that fortune and return it all to its rightful owners as soon as possible,” she announced.

“YOU are going back to find it,” Travis said with emphasis on the first word.  “I’m going back to Galveston to finish some business that I had started before I found out where your husband lived.”  He paused to let the words sink in to her puzzled mind and then finished with, “But, what’s more important, you are going back to the home that you had owned all along.”

Savannah turned away from him, her eyes welling up with tears as she heard those words again, that he was going to Galveston.  And she was going back home. 

For some reason, home did not seem so inviting to her.  A long time ago, she had said good-bye to the only home that she had ever known.  She had resolved in her mind that Diego would never let her visit it again and she had talked herself into the reality that he probably had sold it soon after they had abandoned Robin’s Glen.  To have that certainty reversed with a few words from Travis did not seem very convincing. 

She knew that she had to see for herself if he was speaking the truth.  She knew that she would have to go home.  Apparently without Travis.  But at least she would have her beloved son with her.  Having a legacy for Benny was worth claiming even if it meant losing a love that could have lasted, in her heart at least.

Their destinies ended right here and right now, she made herself realize when she turned back to him and said without remorse and as coolly as her heart would allow, “Well, then, I suppose this is good-bye.”

“We still have tonight,” he argued with a coy wink. 

But she was not in the least moved by his remark and her heart fell even lower in her breast when she realized that he expected her to make love to him one last time before he left her forever.  Anger replaced her sadness as she raised a fist to show him just how loathe she was to give in to his request but then she lowered it again and sucked in a breath of determination as she said, “I am tired.  I’ll say my good-byes now.”

Taken aback by her sudden change in mood, Travis stepped toward her so that he could melt her into his arms for a long and teary good-bye.  But she stepped away from him and coolly stared into his eyes with abhorrence that he had never seen her shoot toward him before. 

He wanted to explain to her his reason for leaving her but her seething expression told him to leave it as it was, for she would not hear any words except those that she desired and the ones that he knew that he must tell her would only perturb her further.  He lowered his head as if she had admonished him for some deed that he had unknowingly committed and then shuffled his feet as he said, “Well, then.  I guess it’s good-bye.”