Catch a Shooting Star jd edit 03 12 2012 html (7 page)

Even Savannah, who had declared that she was more intelligent than he thought her to be, was ignorant of the fact that the plantation would revert to her upon her father’s death.  By researching the deed records before he’d agreed to take on this contract with the old man, Diego had found that not even death could remove this land from the family.  As long as there was an heir, there was an owner.  And he intended to make a new heir as soon as possible in order to secure this vast plantation as his own whether his wife was a willing participant in that endeavor or not. 

Getting her away from the home that she adored and taking her as many times that was required in order to impregnate her and then casting her aside as if she was a begging cur was the plan that he had fabricated those days that he had locked himself away in his rooms while she stomped around like a spoiled little child.  And now that the time for him to make that plan come to fruition was near, he felt a surge of pride in his mastery of the human animal.  Whether it is spoiled and self-assured, or merely old and decrepit, Don Diego Fernandez was unsurpassed at bending it to his will. 

He reached for the doorknob just as Savannah stepped beside him and he turned the knob then stood aside for her to enter, his manners ever so polite.  She, of course, did not acknowledge his gesture, but instead, swept past him as if he was a servant doing his job.  A threatening chuckle under his breath as she entered the room was his warning to her that he soon would be the master and she the servant.

“Vanny,” the old man whispered as his daughter came to his bedside and clutched his hand in hers.  “I feel weak and tired.”

“I know, Papa,” she said as she stroked his head and adopting the name that she used to call him when she was a child.  “You should rest.  We’ll come back another time for a visit.”

“No,” Benjamin said, regaining his voice and clamping down on Savannah’s hand as he pulled her closer. 

She sat in the chair beside him and waited for her father to speak, watching him labor with every breath.  Her heart beat hard against her chest every time his chest would fall and then fail to rise again.  She felt herself cringe when Diego took his place behind her and lay his palms upon her shoulders in a counterfeit gesture of affection and concern.

Her father took in a long and labored breath before he said, “The wedding.  It will have to take place soon.  I don’t think we can put it off until I am better.”

Savannah’s back stiffened beneath Diego’s fingers and she felt them tighten their grip as she tried to pull away.  Resigned to stay beneath those restraints, at least for a few minutes, she relaxed and leaned toward her father as she argued, “Nonsense, you will be well in a few weeks.”

“No,” Benjamin disagreed in earnest as he closed his heavy eyelids.  “The sooner, the better.  Can we get the Reverend here tomorrow?”

Savannah was dumbfounded and fumbled with a reply while Diego stepped toward the bed and assured the feeble man, “Of course, Benjamin.  I’ll send for him right away.”

“But…” was all that Savannah could say as he Mexican left her side and breezed out of the room.  When she recovered, she beseeched her father for a reprieve, “Are you sure you can’t wait a few more weeks?”

“I’m sorry, Vanny.  There is not much time.  I saw your mother last night in a dream and she told me that I would be joining her soon.”

“It was just a dream, Papa,” she argued, her heart fluttering at the thought of losing him.

“It was as real as you are, Vanny,” he said, touching her cheek with his cool hand.  “Tomorrow will be a good time…”

The old man’s eyes faded and the lids shut her out as he took another long breath and then settled into a deep sleep.  She stood over him and kissed his forehead, wishing that she could talk him into staying alive longer so that her fate was suspended.  She knew it was selfish, but there was too much at stake now for her give in to her fears, so with all her might, she silently willed him to heal himself.

Biting her knuckle, she pushed the chair aside and knelt at the side of his bed.  Never being a pious person, she felt nervous and unaccustomed to this position, this act of putting her life in the hands of someone or something that she could not see or hear or even feel.  But, kneel she did and fold her hands in front of her face, she did.  And looking up and beyond the ceiling of the room, she opened her mouth to pray.

“Give me strength to face this,” she began, her eyes welling up with tears.  “I know I don’t deserve to keep my father here with me, but he is all I have and without him, I don’t know how I will survive.  If I marry the man who I am engaged to, I will surely die, for he is a cruel and hateful man.  Father can’t see it.  He is only concerned with the debts that Diego can pay and keeping our home in the family.  But, I know with all my heart that the man will only cause me grief and misery.  Please, deliver me from this fate.”

To seal the prayer, she crossed her shoulders and touched her forehead as she had seen Mama do before she died many years ago.  Then, she rose to her feet and leaned to kiss her father’s forehead one more time before leaving the room.

Chapter Four

A hearty breakfast and a local newspaper occupied Travis Corbett’s attention for most of the morning while he waited for a reply from his ranch foreman, Tom.  Two days had passed and he was getting irritated at having to stay in one place for so long.  Two more days since the morning after he had met Savannah, when he had stayed in the shadows of the great mansion all night to make sure that she was safe, that he had not had a chance to go back to the plantation where his nemesis was hiding and two more days that his revenge was not satisfied, had slowly crept by.  He knew that he could have killed El Diablo that morning as the man stood watching the girl’s window but something told him to wait. 

He couldn’t put a finger on the reason that he’d left Robin’s Glen and the woman-child who lived there to discover their fate with the Mexican devil who visited there, but something told him to let her find out just what kind of a man she had invited into her home.  Remembering his own wife’s demise at the hands of that man, he wondered if he should warn Savannah about the man’s dastardly plans for her.  But, deep inside his soul, he knew that she would not listen to him, would not heed his advice and would, in fact, run straight into El Diablo’s arms just to spite the man who felt the urge to protect her.

So, he’d ambled back into town to wait for an answer to his telegraph, whiling away the days by covertly observing the people in the city of Atlanta.  He sat, seemingly unnerved by the time that slowly passed while he waited for his reply, in a slat rocking chair on the porch of the Grand Hotel and watched life go by.

The locals seemed to fear him or at least feel uneasy around him, something that he had become accustomed to since he had slapped that pair of Colt Peacemaker pistols on his hips and strapped the Winchester to his saddle five years ago.  The sheriff had warned him to remove his hardware or face a citation the first day that he had arrived, but Travis had refused to give them up, so all eyes followed him throughout the growing city.  He was never again confronted about his possession of firearms within the city limits, for the sheriff was called away on some investigation into a suspicious fire outside town and his deputies chose not to put their lives on the line just to ask this stranger to remove the very items that might put an end to their lives.

Leaning on the table as he perused the paper, he kept one eye darting around the room and at the door of the diner where he had stopped in for breakfast.  Keeping his back to the wall, as was his habit, he watched for anyone who would challenge him, though he had a feeling that none would.  His booted feet tapped the hardwood floor, a telltale sign that he was itching to get out of there and on the road as opposed to an indication that he was worried or nervous.

Reading the same uninteresting article for the third time without realizing it, he dropped the newspaper onto the table and shoved his plate forward in disgust at the time that he was wasting.  The chair scratched the floor as he quickly rose and reached into his vest pocket for his wallet.  The table teetered when he leaned a fist on it to pick up the paper as he dropped a coin beside the plate.

Another habit that he had learned to take up was to listen to his surroundings for any hint of adversity, so when his ears heard a certain name, he froze as the coin hit the tabletop.  He turned his head in the direction of the drawling voice that had called out her name to a man who appeared to be a pastor, for the man was dressed in black with a small white collar.

He waited until the black man had left the pastor and then he walked slowly toward him.  As he approached the table where the older man was sitting, Travis towered above him and unconsciously clenched his fist.

Clearing his throat in order to get the man’s attention, he asked, “Excuse me, Sir.  May I ask you a question?”

Reverend Warren craned his neck to see the tall man who stood above him and smiled warmly before he waved a hand toward the chair opposite him and offered, “Be my guest.”

“Thank you,” Travis replied as he folded his lofty frame into the wooden chair and leaned his elbows on the table, contemplating his question.  With a long intake of breath, he began, “I’m sorry for listening to your conversation just a few minutes ago, but I recognized a name that was mentioned and I was curious.”

“Curious?” Reverend Warren asked, his brow arching in question. “About Miss Star?”

“Yes, I met her the other night and she appeared to be in distress.  I helped her home when she had lost her mount in a storm.  She seemed afraid to go into her own home.  And now, I hear that you have been summoned to her home for a wedding.”

Pausing for the Reverend to nod in the affirmative and to interject, “Yes, Benjamin Star is dying and wants to see his daughter married before he passes away.  She’s marrying a man from down in Mexico, I think.  Can’t recall his name, but Benjamin seems pretty happy with her choice.”

“Does he really know this man?” Travis asked without thinking that he was butting into strangers’ lives.

“As far as I know, he and—what was his name again?  Ah, Fernandez.  Benjamin and Mr. Fernandez have been acquaintances for about three years.  So, I suppose that they know each other quite well.  You say you only met Savannah once and now you are concerned with her welfare?” the pastor asked as he intertwined his bulky fingers in front of him.

“Yes,” Travis answered, feeling uncomfortable.  He smiled widely and answered, never allowing the other man to see his uneasiness, “As I said before, she seemed afraid to go inside and I am concerned as to whether or not she is safe.”

“Well, son,” the reverend said as he removed his hands for the waitress to place a plate in front of him.  “I’m headed out there for a consultation after my breakfast if you would like to ride along.  Perhaps that will quell some of your concerns.”

Travis nodded once and replied, “I would appreciate that, Sir.”  He stood up and shook the older man’s hand and said, “I’ll be back in about twenty minutes to meet you outside.”

“That sounds fine,” the man said with a smile and a wink.

Travis left him and walked to the telegraph office to check on his reply.  To his amazement, there was one waiting for him, so he quickly opened the envelope and read the three words inside:  “Emergency. Come home.”

Pulling in a deep breath and then letting it out in a long sigh of annoyance, he read the note one more time before he folded it up and tucked it into his vest pocket.  Shaking his head, he removed his Stetson while walking back outside.  He raked his fingers through his sandy brown hair, wondering what could be the emergency back home.  Replacing the hat, he touched the tips of each of his pistols with his palms and headed over to the hotel to check out.

He followed the reverend’s two-person buggy out of town and down the dirt road that led them toward the sprawling plantation.  As Travis clucked to his mount to bring him to walk parallel to the reverend, he listened as the portly man gave him the history of Robin’s Glen.

“It’s been in the family for generations,” Reverend Warren started as he slowed the prancing pony in front of him to a more leisurely pace.  “Back when the young Nation was getting settled, Lord Barrington was given two thousand prime acres by the Queen Herself for bravery on the front fighting the Spaniards.  Of course, he brought his family over and built the grand house.  But, within six years, all were dead due to illness, accidents and so forth, all but the lord himself.

“Of course, he was devastated and wandered around that big house in grief and anger.  Then, one day, he just walked away from it, leaving the servants to tend it and then, he up and joined the Indian war effort.  For years, he fought the Indians until he was wounded and left for dead by his comrades.  Well, a small village of Cherokees found him and took him in.  He lived with them for quite a while, learning their ways and understanding their reasons for hating the white man.  Later, he married a little Indian squaw named Robin Shining Star and he brought her back to the plantation to start a new family with her.

“As time went by, the old man passed away leaving her pregnant with Benjamin’s grandfather.  But, before he died, old Benjamin made it clear to her and in his will that the land should stay in the family.  What he didn’t state was whether or not his wife could remarry or change the family name.  Robin remarried, because she was much younger and wanted someone to take care of her and the plantation.  Her new husband, a very rich man, died only a few months after they were married but he left her with all his money.