Hope Reborn (11 page)

She rocked forward and stroked his hair. “Yes, Houston? Did you have fun this morning? Were you scared?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He traced the veins on her hand then glanced up grinning that adorable little boy expression she’d seen on Henry. “I liked when Pa grabbed that boar the best. I was fixin’ to get him, but Pa beat me to him.”

May smiled, but didn’t call the boy’s bluff.

He went quiet and stared again. Finally, he lifted her hand, moving it out of his way and climbed up into her lap. “What’s my mama like?”

His question took her aback. She sat her cup down on the side table. “Why, I don’t know, sweetie. I never got to meet her.”

“Oh.” He looked off for a minute then turned back. “’Cause it’s so big? When you go back, think you could find her? Then you can come tell me.”

May studied on the boy and his curious words. Had they told him his mother had gone to New York instead of died giving birth? Why would Henry allow such a thing?

She didn’t know what to say.

He twisted around, reached back, and rubbed her shoulder. “S’pose you can show me your wings? I won’t tell anyone.”

“Wings? Sweetheart, I don’t have wings.”

“Oh.” He laid his head on her chest, and she rocked.

It felt so comfortable. He didn’t say anything for a long while, then she decided to find out. “Houston?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Why would you think I had wings like a bird?”

He ducked his head first then looked up and giggled. “’Cause I knowed you’re an angel, but I didn’t tell no one.” He touched her face. “You’re so pretty.”

Her heart fluttered. “Oh, Houston. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Her eyes teared. She wrapped the boy in her arms and hugged him tight.

For the longest, he returned her hug then he leaned back. “I wish you knew my mama in Heaven. She's with Jesus.”

She choked back a little sob. And did her best not to let the tears filling her eyes fall, but she couldn’t stop them. She laid her head on top of the little boy’s and held him tight.

His little hand squeezed between her and the back of the rocker, and he rubbed her shoulder blades. She grinned. He was trying to feel those wings.

What was it with these Buckmeyer men? Even the little one tugged at her heart. How could she ever stand leaving this place?

She rocked. “I wish I could have known her, too. It’s a real nice thing to think I'm an angel, Houston, but I don’t know about heaven and all that.”

“It's a beautiful place. Pa said so. He likes you, and so do I.” He said it with the sweet innocence of a six-year-old. “Pa thinks you’re real pretty, too, like me. Told me this morning while we was waiting for it to get light enough.”

“He did?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She continued to rock and contemplate the precious child, thought he might have dozed off until he sat up straight.

“Hey, Sunday's coming, and I get to show you to Daniel at church. He’s my friend.”

She forced a smile and hoped the boy didn’t see through her. 

May rocked and studied the farmland below while the boy's deep breaths fell into a steady rhythm. One of the porch's floorboards creaked slightly, and Houston's ten-year-old cousin tiptoed up.

Standing beside her, Charlie touched the little fellow's arm. "Your pa wants you in the barn."

The six-year-old sat up and rubbed his eyes with both fists. "Huh? What?" He shook off his nap.

"Uncle Henry said to find you. You've got chores, and he wants you to brush out The Black. Now git."

May rocked forward and helped Houston to his feet. He gave her an angelic smile, punched Charlie on the way by, then raced away toward the barn.

"Miss May? You know that book you wrote?"

"Which one, sweetheart, I've written quite a few."

"I'm talking about that Apple Tree book. I sure thought that Miss Vicki lady should've won the contest and married that Preston guy."

"Oh, you did?"

"Yes, ma'am, she's the prettiest. But she don't, does she?"

May laughed. "Just how much have you read?"

"Not near enough, and the Major's liable to be home any minute now. Those bratty girls won't tell me what happens, so I can write my book report. Will you?"

"If I did, wouldn't that be cheating?"

"Well, kind of sort of. A little bit, I guess. But I'm thinking we could make a trade. That'd make it fair, wouldn't it?"

"Trade what?"

"Well, I know all kinds of stuff, and you know stuff, so how about I ask you questions, and you ask me questions? One for one."

Oh, May didn't know about that. Helping Charley out was liable to land her in hot water. Then again, it never hurt having a man on the inside.

"How about instead of telling you what happens, I read it to you? Would you like that?"

"Ain't got ‘nuff time. What if the Major and Mama get home?" In one motion, he crossed his feet and sat on the floor. "I say let's go back to trading."

"So what's this information you've got to trade?"

"Depends on your question." He grinned and seemed to twinkle his blue eyes at her as though he could flirt her into agreeing. What a little scoundrel. "I've got all kinds of answers, ma'am."

“Oh, you do.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He looked around, obviously making sure no one was watching or listening. "Go ahead, ask me a question."

"I don't know, Charley."

"Alright then, here's a free one, so you can see firsthand the value of my trade goods." He glanced toward the door again then leaned in. "CeCe just now snitched to Uncle that you was out here sitting in his chair. Now he don't let anyone sit in his rocker, but he told her it was fine, not to say anything to you."

A whoop pulled him around to the north, a cloud of dust hung on the horizon. Amidst the cloud, three riders racing toward the house in front of a slower moving wagon.

"Oh, no. I'm doomed now. It's the Major and Mama and Captain Rusk and Aunt Rebecca."

May pulled Charley to her and whispered in his ear. "Preston loved Marge at first sight and only used all the other women as a diversion to test her and see if she loved him for himself or his money. In the end, he sends all the other women home and marries Marge, and they live happily ever after."

He kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, Miss May! I owe you!" Then he ran off toward the riders. "Major! Mama!"

Amidst the pandemonium of hugs and handshakes, the chaos of kisses and greetings, May rocked on the porch totally amazed. What a truly remarkable clan.

Was Henry to be credited for all the love passing around? Certainly the little Buckmeyers hadn’t fallen far from their father’s tree. And if the two lawmen proved half as heroic as the articles she’d read, then they were the most…real.

That’s what they were. Real. All of them.

Acquainted with more than a few blue bloods back East, she’d witnessed firsthand how their wealth and political power garnered all their attention, to the detriment of relationships with their loved ones.

How many of the wives and grown daughters told her that her books were the only romance they experienced? How they so appreciated living vicariously through her heroines and their love stories?

Though it appeared that Henry had gold coins aplenty, his focus remained on his family, not amassing more coins. Everything stopped to welcome home their travelers, all chores less important.

Even Mammy came out for a round of hugs. Chester followed her as far as the porch then stayed, standing beside May.

“Aren’t they amazing, Chester?”

“Yes, ma’am, they surely are.”

The family’s love was so obviously genuine. It panged her heart that she’d never known such, not in all her life.

Before the roar died completely, more screams and giggles and the little ladies clapping and jumping welcomed a covered wagon pulled by four mules.

She loved it until she laid eyes on the young woman driving the team. By the time it stopped in front of the house, the children surrounded it.

“Rebecca, I missed you.”

“Did you bring me a birthday present? I turned eight while you were gone.”

“Get down, Rebecca. Hurry up and hug me.”

The oldest daughter stood at the bench seat and loosed her locks from the bonnet. Even covered with trail grime and dust, she was a beautiful creature.

And if she truly was the spitting image of her deceased mother, no wonder Henry remained lovesick for his dead wife. Why, no one could compare. May didn’t stand a chance.

It pleased her that the man made a point of introducing her to Major Levi Baylor and his wife Rose, and Captain Wallace Rusk, and Rebecca, of course. His eyes literally sparkled looking at his daughter.

She probably knew she was his favorite.

May smiled.

He was only being his polite self.

After the glad-to-meet-you’s flowed freely and promises punctuated the get-together-soon’s, she retreated upstairs. Now more than ever, she needed to get her rewrite finished.

The Rangers could be interviewed now, then she and Chester could get out of Texas before it was too late. She had to escape before her heart got broken again.

For the rest of that day and most of the next, aside for meals, she and her scribe stayed upstairs and worked at their scribbling. Mary Rachel seemed as determined as she to complete her copy of the manuscript.

May so appreciated the girl’s dedication. She would truly miss her presence once she returned to New York. Though they barely spoke, May enjoyed her being there.

She gave no credence to the young woman’s father’s gentle squeezes to her hand during the blessings at meals. Neither did she pay any attention to how often he glanced her way or how many times he directed his smooth beautiful baritone toward her.

No, indeed. Especially since on his left, all scrubbed and coiffured and glowing, sat maybe the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen to constantly remind him of his lost love.

On the afternoon of her third day in Henry’s home, a notion wormed its way in amongst an intriguing conversation between her storybook hero and heroine.

What if Mister Buckmeyer had grown tired of golden haired, green eyed, perfect porcelain dolls?

Oh, goodness gracious! Why did she keep going there?

What could he ever see in her? With a nose wide as a house and lips.… Well, she’d been told they were kissable, but only by cads; their sole purpose for the flattery to sweet talk her right out of her pantalettes.

But Henry…he wasn’t like that, was he? The only times she’d been around him, the children were present.

“Mary Rachel, does your father have a lady friend?” May swallowed hard and hoped her ears played tricks on her, because she could swear she just said that aloud. She slowly turned.

The girl giggled. “No, ma’am, not a one since Mama. Oh, there’ve been lots of ladies who want to be his friend alright, but he’s never shown a bit of interest in any of them.

“I’ve often thought.…” She looked toward the window as if searching a great distance. “Anyway, he makes a point of never going to town without me or Gwendolyn, or Rebecca. We protect him.”

The door eased open. “Hello? Did I hear my name?” The oldest sister strolled into the room. “You two have sequestered yourselves up here forever. Aren’t you finished?”

She held out both hands toward May, so she lay her quill down, rose, and took them. “I haven’t had time to tell you, Miss Meriwether, but I love your books. I’ve read them all. And I’m so excited you want to write a romance about Levi and Rose.”

May smiled. “Why, thank you. That’s a very kind thing to say. And please, call me May, won’t you?”

“I assure you it’s the truth, so help me God. But I must suggest that you should write about Mama and Daddy falling in love on our trip to Jefferson first. That’s where it all started. You could call it Love on the Jefferson Trace.”

“Oh, no. Well, yes on the story.” The younger sister jumped up. “But I’ve been thinking. What about calling it THE GRANGER? You know, since Mama was a farmer? Then Levi’s book could be THE RANGER?” She glanced at her sister. “Isn’t it so exciting, having May Meriwether here? And to think we’ll get to read about our parent’s love –”

“Easy, girls.” May laughed. “Believe it or not, I don’t get to pick the title, I only make suggestions. My publisher thinks he knows best as far as choosing a good marketable title.” She squeezed Rebecca’s hands then let go. “Besides, I have to finish this one before starting another.”

“That’s understandable, but your new novel doesn’t have a thing to do for my reason to come up here. All the sisters are begging to go swimming. Haven’t you done enough for today? Please say you’ll come with us.”

Swimming? She hadn’t been in years—many, many years. “That sounds wonderful.”

She did it again, said a thought out loud; agreed readily to go swimming and quit working. But the room did get so hot in the late afternoons. The water would refresh her so much.

“Daddy said we could?”

Rebecca nodded. “Actually, he said that was fine with him. Right after I promised that between you, me, and Rose, one of us would be on dry ground at all times with the gun. Oh, and I told him we’d take Newly. He’s heating water for the bathhouse.”   

May loved the interaction between the two, the subtle nuances. “What about all the boys? Aren’t they going? I’d imagine they’d have a conniption fit if we left them behind.

“They won’t care. Their Uncle Levi and the captain are taking them fishing before they get scrubbed clean for church tomorrow.”

Henry bent down, raked the coals, then slipped in another oak stick. He pulled the lever and released a bit of the water in the tub and swiped his hand under the flow.

Too hot. He opened the valve and released more water from the tower into the tank. After a minute or three, he tested the temperature again, then stopped the cold water, stepped back, and studied his bathhouse.

Wasn’t as big or fancy as the Roman ones he’d read about, but he didn’t know anyone in all of Red River County or any of the neighboring ones either who had anything to compare.

The cypress and limestone weren’t marble and inlaid gold, but his suited him and was way more practical. Plus, he and Sue had built it together.