Night Flower (Gone-to-Texas Trilogy) (5 page)

      
“Aw, I want ta watch the fiddlers. Look, Mellie, ” Adam said, pointing across the street to where a group of men with violins and banjos were tuning up for the celebrations. “I bet Ole Sam'll be coming down this very street!”

      
“Mr. Houston's new title is United States Senator now, Adam, never 'Ole Sam’ to the likes of a nine-year-old boy,” Melanie scolded. She hoped secretly to catch a glimpse herself of the war hero who had twice served as the Republic's president. Deborah and Charlee both had met him and had told her tales of his wit and gallantry. He and Jim Slade were friends of long standing since Slade's service under him during the Battle of San Jacinto.

      
“Yew wait here and rest yer backsides whilst I check fer th' Slades. Now mind, don't go wanderin' off like a couple o' jug headed mustangs,” Joe admonished. Melanie and Adam dismounted, waving Joe on while they watched the show. Living for most of the year in the wilds of north-central Texas, the two young Flemings were relishing this sampling of city life as an incredible break from the daily chores and lessons of the ranch.

      
“Hey! Mellie, there's Billie Bledsoe. I knew his folks'd be here, I just knew it!” With that, Adam dashed into the street and vanished into the press of horses and pedestrians, with Melanie in hot pursuit.

      
“Adam! Come back here! You heard Joe,” she shrieked, pulling up her skirts to run after the speeding imp who was already across the street, engaged in a giggling exchange with his young friend from a neighboring ranch.

      
Intent upon retrieving her errant charge, Melanie collided with the solid chest of a tall stranger before she could stop her headlong rush. Breath knocked from her, she stumbled backward, only to find herself steadied by a pair of strong hands. Mortified, Melanie raised her flushed face to apologize, but the words froze in her throat as her eyes widened in recognition. “You!”

      
Lee's black eyes narrowed to slits as he appraised the luscious little morsel who had just flattened herself against him. She was tiny of stature but very well put together; her sheer mustard silk shirt revealed a full bosom, heaving from her headlong dash. His hands could span her fragile waist. He took in the enticing curves of her hips under the scandalous split leather riding skirt. Expensive clothes but not what he'd allow his wife to wear. As her gasping single word of recognition registered in his ears, his eyes traveled up to her face.

      
And an exquisite face it was. Delicately arched brows rose over enormous golden eyes fringed with thick black lashes. Those eyes were slanted, following the arresting lines of her high cheekbones. A generous pink mouth was pursed in shock over a pointy, stubborn chin. Her complexion was flawless, an olive-gold hue that was complemented by masses of gleaming ebony hair spilling down her back and around her shoulders. She knew him, but who was she?

      
“Leandro Velasquez, home from your foreign adventures at last. Whatever brings you to our parochial little celebration!” she asked, proud of her regained composure and erudite vocabulary.

      
“I'm afraid you have the advantage,” Lee replied, a frown of concentration marring his chiseled features.

      
Melanie looked up at the tall man, more muscular and mature than the reed-slim eighteen-year-old boy who had struggled to rescue a humiliated and terrified twelve-year-old from the clutches of a lecherous sailor on the Galveston waterfront. Lee was still wonderfully handsome to her infatuated eyes.
And he doesn't even remember me!
Smiling over sweetly, she said, “After that brute of a first mate almost squashed you like an insect, I'd think you'd be grateful to the girl with the scissors who saved your life that day on the wharf.”

      
“Fleming's daughter,” he choked out. “But you were only a little girl—” He could sense her smirk even before it began to spread across the lovely face. “All right. I suppose that was four years ago, Melanie. You did grow up. Forgive me?” He doffed his wide-brimmed hat, revealing that splendid head of curling black hair. When he smiled, the blinding white slash in his dark face made her heart do a sudden lurch.

      
“Well, since you do remember my name, not just my father's, I suppose I forgive you,” she said, returning the smile.

      
“But I'd say your scissors did more damage to me than the first mate!” What a hellish week that had been.

      
‘‘Is that why you left as soon as my father arrived, not even saying good-bye?” she half teased, half challenged. How well she could still remember her devastation when she awoke that morning and her papa told her Lee was gone.

      
Lee, too, recalled his judicious retreat but was unaware it had caused a young girl's heartbreak. “Let's just say discretion was the better part of valor,” he replied lightly.

      
Melanie was saved from an angry retort by her brother's sudden arrival. Remembering his hero from early childhood in San Antonio, Adam catapulted into Lee's arms. “Lee! Aunt Charlee told us you were living in Mexico. I'm so glad you're home. Wait till you see where we live now! Our papa has the biggest ranch in Texas. You gotta come visit us.”

      
Smiling, Lee set the boy down and knelt by his side. “Afraid I can't do that just now. Dulcia's waiting for me back in San Antonio,
niño.
We're going to build a pretty fair ranch of our own.”

      
“Dulcia?” Melanie asked, already dreading the answer.

      
“My wife. Didn't Charlee write Deborah? I was married last summer in Mexico City.”

      
“Well, I hope you and your bride will be very happy in Texas, Lee. Adam and I promised to wait for Joe across the street. Maybe we'll see you after the ceremonies. I think they're about to begin.” She turned quickly away and shaded her eyes, scanning the crowd around the grandstands.

      
With a nod, Lee gave Adam a final hug and rose. “I'd better find Charlee and Jim pronto. When you locate your friend, we'll be over by the right-hand side of the platform.” With that, he disappeared down the crowded street as she stared blankly after him.

Chapter Three

El Sueño Grande, May 1846

      
Lee wiped the sweat from his brow and stopped to admire his handiwork in the clear noonday heat. The corral, with its sturdy high cross rails of oak, should hold at least fifty prime horses, culled from the wild mustangs he and his men had captured the past several months. Now, they would begin breaking the best of them for sale.

      
With any luck, only one more trip out onto the open plains and he would have enough stock. He looked from the new corral to the rebuilt hacienda. The low-ceilinged, six-room stone-and-adobe structure he had built on the ruins of his parents' place was scarcely the grand mansion that would one day house his family, but it was a comfortable beginning nonetheless. Although Dulcia had made no protest when he brought her from Bluebonnet last week, he was sure it seemed primitive to her. At least here she was mistress of her own modest domain, with three house servants to see to her comfort. Still, he felt uneasy about her fragility in the face of frontier hardships. As he pictured his wife's soft features, another face floated in his memory, one with glowing, tanned skin and snapping gold eyes that mocked him.

      
What the hell am I doing remembering that little hellion?
he thought incredulously. Feeling an unreasoning surge of anger at the way his subconscious had conjured her up, he was further upset with the immediate comparison between her and Dulcia that some perverse self-punishing instinct caused him to make. Neither fragile nor modest, Melanie Fleming fit in splendidly in Texas.

      
Admittedly, Lee had been shocked at how she had changed since their first encounter when she had been a twelve-year-old child. Even then, he had thought the daughter of Fleming's octoroon mistress would grow into a striking woman. But her exotic beauty combined with earthy sensuousness had surprised him. Frequently over the past months, as he had slaved and sweated rebuilding his parents' dream, Lee had found Melanie haunting his imagination, causing him to wonder how she would respond to his touch. Scarcely the way a proper
criolla
would, he was absolutely certain of that!

      
Angrily, he pulled his disloyal thoughts back to Dulcia, his gentle and patient bride who adored him. If she did not return his ardor in making love, that was to be expected from a woman with her upbringing. A lady did not behave with abandon. He felt a renewed surge of guilt for his wayward thoughts, especially now that she was pregnant.

      
Smiling ruefully, he recalled the evening when she had told him he was to be a father. It was the month after he had gone to Austin for the statehood hoopla. She had been so shy, yet proud about becoming the mother of his child. Of course, he had taken her agonizingly embarrassed plea to be relieved of conjugal duties with as much good grace as was humanly possible.

      
When in Mexico City, he had been disillusioned with the morality of upper-class men who kept mistresses, thinking such a practice decadent and insulting to the women who bore their names and their children. He had even recalled Rafe Fleming and his illegitimate daughter, feeling sorry for Deborah's plight when she was forced to accept such a stepchild into her home. Now, faced with eight months of enforced celibacy, he was less inclined to be so puritanical.

      
“That's the only reason I've even given Melanie Fleming a thought, dammit,” he muttered beneath his breath. Just then, hoof beats coming from the direction of the ranch house interrupted his ruminations.

      
“Charlee tells me that congratulations are in order. That you and Dulcia are going to have a
niño
at year's end,” Jim Slade's voice called out as he swung effortlessly from his big buckskin horse.

      
“I figured once the women started talking, all Bexar County would know,” Lee replied smiling. “I only hope we have a boy like Will.”

      
Jim's eyes lit at the mention of his son's name; but he grinned and said, ‘This time I'm hoping for a little Texas hell cat like Charlee.”

      
Lee's face sobered. “Charlee takes so well to frontier life. I worry about Dulcia sometimes.”

      
“She'll adapt. Look at Deborah Fleming. All the way from Boston, and Rafe couldn't ask for a better rancher's wife,” Jim reassured his love-struck young friend.

      
Recalling his earlier uncomfortable thoughts about Deborah's stepdaughter, Lee murmured, “I suppose Dulcia will learn. I'm only glad we have the house furnished and a cook and maid to help her during her confinement.”

      
Charlee had told her husband in no uncertain terms what she thought of Dulcia’s ideas about “women's confinement” during pregnancy. Jim wanted to get off that subject quickly! “Some great corral,” he improvised, striding over to run his hand along the sturdy oak railing.

      
“It'll be full of prime horseflesh in a few more days.” Lee could not restrain the note of pride in his voice.

      
“You still working that blue roan stallion?” Jim asked.

      
“Sangre Azul,” Lee said, eyes alight. “Yes, he's almost finished his formal education. I expect he'll be as much a one-man horse as Polvo.” He indicated Jim's impressive buckskin.

      
“Blueblood,” Jim translated the name his friend had given his new stallion. “You sure that time in Mexico City didn't turn you into a
criollo
snob,
mano
?” He was only half teasing.

      
Lee's face became serious. “Hardly that. God knows the political corruption in Mexico is causing chaos, and the fine aristocrats who head the government and the army are the cause of it. You heard any news from San Antonio lately?”

      
Jim's brow creased with concern. “We're really going to have us a war, Lee. That ass Taylor's moved from Corpus Christi down to the Bravo, claiming it's American territory.”

      
“Which, of course, was never settled between Texas and Mexico,” Lee said in disgust.

      
“Well, as Sam wrote me from Washington, President Polk wants California, and that means all the land above the Bravo or Rio Grande, whatever they call it—everything between here and the west coast is up for grabs.”

      
“I guess our senator knows his president's game,” Lee replied bitterly.

      
Jim grinned grimly, “Sam Houston knows
everybody's
game. Never be deceived. I only hope someone takes charge in Mexico City and is willing to negotiate before this thing gets really nasty.
Tejanos
and
Californios
are going to get caught in the crossfire. Already, Governor Henderson has responded to Taylor's request for rangers to act as scouts for his inept dragoons. Jack Hays has formed up a company and headed out to join Taylor on the Bravo, where he's set up a fort across from Matamoros.”

      
“ ‘Remember the Alamo’ all over again. Only this time the Texians can really get even, with the U.S. Army backing them,” Lee said. His face was set in tight lines.

      
“You sound like you're ready to join the Mexican Army,” Jim retorted angrily. “Jack Hays is an honorable man and a damn good Comanche fighter, I might add.”

      
Lee waved dismissively. “Hell, I don't mistrust Hays, but there are plenty of Anglo rabble in San Antonio and all along the border who'd use any excuse to kill Mexican civilians, even those born on Texas soil. It's been so tense in the city the past months I haven't even taken Dulcia to visit her friends because of the drunken brawls and mob mentality of the ‘noble militia.’ If you ask me, we could use Hays right here in San Antonio to control the Texas volunteers for this damn undeclared war before they loot and burn an American city!”