Threads of Change (17 page)

“What are you grinning at?” Liz asked him in a whisper.

“Just glad we’re all together again,” he replied. “Like it should be.”

T
ex and Thomas had agreed that, with Fort Worth only a few days away, they could travel faster if the men drove the wagons. They wanted to make it through Comanche territory safely, with the women (and the gold) intact.

With the horses harnessed to their appointed wagons, Thomas doled out the assignments as to who would ride where. Colt would drive alone in the first wagon; only Thomas, Liz, and Tex knew it was full of the Mailly gold.

Because of the gold, the weight wouldn’t allow any other passengers, Thomas had explained to him when he and Tex pulled the young man off to the side. Colt seemed content with the solitude and said he didn’t mind driving alone. He found that women talked too much, he’d told Thomas privately, and days of constant chatter would get the best of him. Being the lead wagon, he didn’t have to think about what went on in front of him or worry about what was behind. His pistol traveled right along the side of him, ready for any sign of danger. He’d checked his ammunition three times before they headed out, and he confided in Thomas that he felt proud to have the responsibility for looking after the gold.

Thomas and Liz drove the next wagon. She said she could hardly wait to watch the changing landscape roll past and think about nothing more than her future.

“What’s got your face lit up like a candle?” Thomas finally asked her as they bumped along.

She would miss the garden, she told him, and wondered about planting a late one at her new home.

“I wonder what vegetables will grow in Fort Worth,” she added, “and how late the season will be when we finally get around to planting. What do you think, Thomas? What shall I grow first?”

Their conversation felt easy and Thomas felt as if they had passed an invisible milestone in their relationship. He wondered when it had happened. At what point in his absence had she grown so much closer to him. Just as he began mulling that over and imagining the answer, Liz leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’m so sleepy.”

In the third wagon, Megan and Chet shared the bench seat. Chet had always been a talker, and Thomas figured he enjoyed Megan’s colorful and witty point of view. Chet had once told him that Megan valued “the important things in life,” and he suspected Chet’s feelings for her went much deeper than a mild appreciation.

Even though it seemed like a strange mix, Abby and Tex agreed to ride together in the fourth wagon. The rough old Ranger seemingly intrigued the proper schoolteacher. Before they’d even climbed aboard the wagon and left their temporary camp behind, Tex had already engrossed Abby with story after story about the life of a Ranger in the wild, open country of Texas. From the woodlands to the prairie, he had patrolled and protected the settlers. He’d even worked with John Parker when his settlement was overtaken by the shrewd Comanches and his daughter Cynthia Ann was kidnapped. All these years later, Cynthia Ann had never been brought home and was still believed to be living among the Comanches. Abby had grabbed her sister Emma by the hand and said she thought it was the most tragic story she had ever heard. Thomas imagined Abby had spent at least a portion of the ride already looking out over the countryside and reliving the story.

“I’m glad Abby befriended Tex the way she has,” Liz spoke out loud, making Thomas curious about whether she’d developed some mind-reading powers while he and Chet had been off without them. “He’s intriguing, don’t you think so?”

Thomas shrugged. “I guess.”

“The history of this state came alive when he spoke,” she told him. “The tales of adventure and despair seemed to really grasp Abby’s heart, and I’ll bet she’s back there right now urging him to tell her more.”

“If nothing else, she’s learning a lot,” Thomas remarked. “She could take his knowledge and pass it on to her students. History’s sort of been written before Tex’s very eyes. I imagine Abby is soaking it right up.”

“Tex seemed to almost get a kick out of Abby’s interest in the Comanches.”

Thomas chuckled. “Look at you, making a love match between your young cousin and that old geezer of a Texas Ranger. You’re hiding the heart of a real romantic, Elizabeth Bromont.”

“Oh, I am not,” she dismissed him with a giggle and the wave of her hand.

The giant Texas Ranger, Jackson, with his horse Zeus tethered to the wagon, had Emma at his side. Emma was usually a quiet one, so Thomas figured Jackson might have been somewhat bored if not for the fact that he’d heard them conversing easily before they’d ever driven away from the campsite.

Two remaining wagons picked up the rear. Luke and John were in one; Blue commanded the other, pulled by the oxen. Luke and John had agreed to take turns with their team.

After several days more, they connected with a well-used road taking them directly north. It had been worn down by the cavalry riding to the fort, which excited Liz to no end because it meant that they were getting close to their new home.

When the group came upon a brigade of men herding camels to the fort, the women became particularly enthused because they’d never seen these desert animals before. Liz was charmed by the humped creatures and their waddle as they rambled along. Tex told them that night over dinner under the stars that the army oftentimes used camels if they planned to travel into west Texas. They were more water-conscious than horses, though slower.

One evening, Megan convinced two soldiers to let her ride one of the camels, and she rode through both camps, balancing between the humps of the lofty animal. Neither Tex nor Thomas found it even slightly amusing, and they hiked over to the army camp to inform the officer in charge that he might want to keep a tighter leash on keeping his troops in their own camp. Liz secretly delighted over Thomas’s protective nature.

As the days followed, the two groups continued in the same direction, although the Mailly train moved ahead more quickly. At the campfire one evening, Tex reported that they would be approaching the fort in the morning. Liz stood up and threw her arms around Tex and kissed his weathered cheek. Chet pulled out his bottle of homemade sour mash and passed it around the fire. Liz noticed that Tex held the bottle a little longer than the others and then he watched it as it made its way back to Chet. The women passed it along without drinking, except for Megan, who took a small taste.

“I don’t know how any of us are going to sleep at all tonight, Lizzie!” Megan cried. “I’m so excited to get there I can hardly contain myself.”

After a brief discussion, the group decided to wake early in the morning. The excitement of their arrival blazed through each of them like a fast-moving fire.

North Texas offered the newcomers a magnificent landscape. The earth rolled gently, thick with grass and majestic oak trees scattered along the small hills. The late summer sun sat high in the sky as the six expectant wagons rolled along the trail. Rainfall had obviously been plentiful that year, and the earth rejoiced in response.

In the distance, Liz noticed a small herd of buffalo mingling and grazing under a gathering of trees she couldn’t identify. Each tree was shaped in a uniform half circle, its branches grown straight out from the trunk to look as if they were floating on a layer of air. Not a single twig or branch seemed the least bit out of place, and layered leaves neatly produced an abundance of shade to the earth below.

Liz couldn’t stop darting her gaze from one amazing aspect to another as she admired the countryside and its unfamiliar splendor. She wanted to soak it all in—the smells, the sights, the sounds. Bumping along the open, grassy hillside, Liz felt a change occurring in her heart. Love for this western frontier had already begun growing inside her. As warm peace settled over her, she realized she felt strangely like Texas had been awaiting her arrival, and it welcomed her and her family with inviting, open arms.

Looking across the horizon that would soon be home, she inhaled a long breath and nibbled on the side of her lip. Some golden strands of hair had escaped the edges of her bonnet and the thick braid down her back. As she captured her unruly locks and tucked them away, she began to think about the man sitting on the wagon bench next to her.

Thomas Bratcher, a hard worker, always treated others with fairness and respect. Her grandfather had invested his trust in Thomas, expecting him to deliver his family safely to Texas.

And Luke …

Luke thought Thomas was grand!

Thomas and Caleb had been best friends since childhood. She realized she never actually knew Thomas’s age. She’d always simply assumed he was the same age as her husband.

Liz leaned back on the wagon seat and let the sun warm her face. As she pushed her bonnet back, she easily remembered the day the two friends had shown up at the edge of her grandfather’s property. She’d stepped through the doorway of the house and heard them talking where the pathway met the road. As Caleb and Thomas had laughed and joked with Grandpa Lucas, Liz had wondered if they had always been friends. She had certainly been curious about the handsome strangers.

Caleb Bromont was the outgoing, roguish one; and Thomas Bratcher, the thoughtful one with chiseled features. Lingering on the porch with her yellow cat, Cally, she learned that she would see the young men again, as her grandfather had just hired them.

Fresh out of school and seeking their fortune, Thomas and Caleb had stumbled upon Lucas Mailly and the Riverton Timber Mill completely by accident; although Grandpa Lucas always said there were no accidents in life. The men had left home with the intentions and high hopes of seeing the world while working along the way, and her grandfather had happened upon the two friends on the timber mill road and assumed they were there to request a job. He could have bought slaves, but had always preferred to employ his labor. After talking with the young men, he’d hired them on the spot. They had never done mill work before but, with empty pockets and emptier bellies, they accepted. Caleb told her later that it had been an easy decision with room and board as part of the bargain, and the pretty golden-haired granddaughter on the front porch, to boot. It had been only the first of their many days of good fortune.

The three men shook hands and Lucas directed them to the timber mill’s bunkhouse where they would sleep as well as eat. Liz blushed as the two took turns looking back toward the big white porch where she stood watching after them.

Even though Caleb and Thomas had been best friends for many years, she never did learn an awful lot about Thomas. He was a prayerful and patient man, loyal, trustworthy, hard-working, and seemingly loved by all. He had been like a brother and a family member for years.

The thought of turning her mind around and loving Thomas as a husband felt … confusing. He had many traits that were like Caleb, but many that made him totally different. Yes, he was a good man, but—
could she marry him?

“I have no idea how old you are,” she blurted out without thinking, her thoughts coming alive as the wagon bumped along toward their final destination.