Beneath The Texas Sky (17 page)

A week later, the air was dry and motionless as Bethanie watched Cain load her wagon for the trip to Colorado. Her beautiful smoky gray horse, Twilight, swung his head back and forth as if to resent being tied behind a wagon. Since the cattle drive was a small one, their wagon was also being used to haul supplies. Except for a few trunks of clothes, Bethanie was leaving Weston Ranch as she’d come. Mariah was her only treasure. Anything else could be bought when they reached Colorado. She wanted the household things to be left exactly as they were so that if she returned all would be the same.

Cain carefully arranged the trunks so that Mariah would have a place to play under the wagon’s protective tarp. It would also provide enough room for Bethanie and her daughter to sleep during the trip. In the few days she’d watched Cain, Bethanie had learned a great deal about the silent man. He was clean and neat almost to an obsession. He wore no gun but carried a long knife that would stop any varmint, be it four- or two-legged, should he be challenged. He could crack a whip better than most men and handle a team like a man who had done so for years. She never heard him swear. He didn’t chew or smoke and stayed mostly to himself. As she watched him now, Bethanie couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life had produced such a man.

Mike came from the barn with a rifle slung over his shoulder. “Cain!” he yelled, “I want you to take this under your seat. I want these women well protected.”

Bethanie moved up the steps to the house. “Michael,” she said, half to herself. “You’ve already hired twice as many men as we need to move the cattle. We’ll be lucky if we don’t lose half of them to the mines when we get north.”

Cain took the rifle and nodded to Mike. “I got all the supplies loaded. I can cook good enough to fix the first meal at dawn, but the men are on their own for the rest of the day.”

“I’ve got a good man for trail boss. He’ll take care of the men and herd. You just make sure Mrs. Weston and her daughter get delivered safely to the Weston Mine north of Leadville.”

Before Cain could answer, Mariah ran out of the house past Bethanie to the wagon. She’d never been more than a few miles off the ranch, and now saw herself about to begin a great adventure.

Bethanie watched as Cain turned to greet her, making no attempt to hide his scar. Mariah seemed to accept his deformity without question or judgment. She gave him a quick hug, then began crawling over the boxes and trunks like a ground squirrel. Bethanie smiled and stepped into the house, doubting Cain would ever adjust to Mariah. He did seem to enjoy her company, however. The only time Bethanie had seen him smile was when he said the child’s name.

Bethanie paused just inside the large main room and looked around, memorizing each wall. She felt a greeting as she had that first day in the warmth of the colors and the openness of the rooms. The bright mixtures of Indian and Mexican decor always seemed to cheer her. Then she saw the empty spot by the fireplace where Ben had always rolled his chair. There was no need for the open
place now, but she doubted anyone in the house would ever rearrange the chairs. She knelt to brush her hand over the now highly polished floor remembering how angry Ben had been when he’d found her scrubbing.

When Bethanie looked up, she saw Ruth smiling at her from the kitchen door. “Ruth,” Bethanie whispered the word as dearly as one might say “Mother.” “I was just saying good-bye to the house.”

“I understand.” Ruth moved toward her. “I’ll take good care of Dusty while you’re away. I should have my hands full with him and Allison.” She chuckled suddenly, in a hoarse, unfamiliar sound. “But then, I delivered one baby, I guess I can do it again.”

Bethanie stood staring into the older woman’s dark eyes, her look saying more than words ever could. They were bonded by joy and sorrow, closer than blood could ever tie. Words had never been needed between them, and they did not clutter the air now. “You’ll keep up my herb garden?”

“Yes.” Ruth’s face was a mask of tightly held emotions. “You’re thinking of not coming back. Thinking the pain would always be here.” She was making statements, not asking questions.

Bethanie was little surprised at Ruth’s insight. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “After I see Josh, I may go back East. I just haven’t thought things through yet.”

“You take your time.” Ruth nodded as she tried to keep her hard exterior from melting into emotion. “Dusty and I will be here when you get ready to come home. I used to think if Ben died, I’d move on. But I know now this is my home and the only place I want to be. You’ll find your spot, and I’m hoping when you do, it’ll be here.”

Tears broke from Bethanie’s eyes and raced each other down her cheeks. She closed the distance between them and hugged Ruth.

The older woman patted her briskly on the shoulder. “Now, now, none of this crying. You’re Mrs. Weston, a fine lady. Wouldn’t do to let the men see you sniffling.”

Bethanie nodded and stepped away. Before she could say more, Dusty hobbled from the bedroom. She turned and hugged him, avoiding putting pressure on any of his wounds. When she pulled away, she saw tears in his eyes.

Dusty brushed at her wet cheek with his thumb. “You know, Bethanie, you’re right about why Ben told me to take care of Mariah and not both of you. ’Cause he knew what a great wife he had. He loved you. You were a real wonder to him. He told me once that when he saw you ride in all dirty and dressed like a boy, he knew you were the one for him. But he never thought you’d marry him, and when you did, he decided right then and there he was the luckiest man alive.”

Bethanie couldn’t speak for several seconds. She thought of what might have happened if she hadn’t been pregnant and forced herself to go to Ben’s bed. She might never have understood the man she married. She wished for the hundredth time that she had gotten pregnant again, but they’d never been so blessed.

Without words, Bethanie helped Dusty to the porch and watched as the men mounted for the drive. She ruffled his sandy hair. “You keep up with your studies.”

“Sure,” Dusty shrugged. “I’m starting to half like them anyway. I’ll probably be so smart when you get back, you won’t even know me.”

Bethanie kissed his cheek as Mariah ran to his other side. She hugged him tightly.

Dusty laughed. “See you later, Squirrel.”

“I love you,” she yelled.

“I love you, too,” Dusty answered more soberly.

Bethanie lifted her daughter and hurried toward the
wagon lest she change her mind about going. Within half an hour they were out of sight of the ranch and following beside cattle slowly moving north like a brown cloud hovering over the flat land.

The days of moving across Texas grasslands blurred together into endless heat and wind. Bethanie spent most of her time riding Twilight beside the wagon. Cain never wasted a word to her, but somehow never tired of listening to Mariah. He was already making coffee when Bethanie awoke each dawn, and quietly checking the perimeters of the campsite each night when she fell asleep. His cooking reminded her of childhood days, when her mother always made huge breakfasts that included desserts. Cain could even make fried apple turnovers in the campfire skillet that rivaled the memories of her mother’s. The men enjoyed the early feast and were content to snack on leftovers at sunset.

Cain somehow found the time to make Mariah a rag doll family from bandanna handkerchiefs. She played with the tiny dolls constantly, making her days pass faster.

As they moved across the vast plains, the nights grew colder, but the days still burned the already dry prairie. Wood for campfires grew scarce. Cain used buffalo chips and twisted tufts of dry grass to supplement the sunflower stalks and fast-burning mesquite trees.

Bethanie watched as buffaloes moved in long brown clouds across the endless land. She found the creatures interesting, for they ran with a rocking motion, raising the front and back part of the body alternately. Mariah found them fun to watch, but Cain was always careful to keep the wagon at a safe distance. The buffaloes were wild and stupid. They detected danger by smell and not by sight, so all the men were careful to stay downwind
of the hairy, cowlike animals. Twice in the days of crossing the plains, Bethanie saw wagons loaded down with buffalo hides. Several times they passed piles of decaying carcasses, but most of the plains were an endless sea of green.

Bethanie allowed the swaying grasslands and slow sunset to soothe her mind. The recent pain dulled to an ache within her heart. She needed the hours of monotony to rest, free from conversation or responsibility. Cain seemed to understand; perhaps he had heartaches of his own to remember. He cooked meals and made camp with his gaze never more than a blink away from Mariah.

As they crossed the sandy banks of the Canadian River, Bethanie began to wonder if she’d made the right decision to go to Josh. How could he welcome her when she brought him the news that his brother was dead? They hadn’t heard from him for almost a year. At that time all he’d written about was working a mine and fighting off claim jumpers. He’d told of the past winter being so harsh it had killed off most of the cattle in northern Colorado. Ben had sent a letter promising cattle as soon as the snow melted and the trails were clear. He died before enough head could be rounded up.

Bethanie thought of Josh’s last letter so many months ago. What if he’d made a new life for himself and wanted no part of her? He could even be married by now and have a family on the way. No. Bethanie closed her mind to such a thought. She would see Josh and tell him of Ben. If she could just see him one more time in her life, it would be enough. It might have to be. She had loved two men in her lifetime and been married to one. It was enough to ask of life.

As the drive neared Fort Union in the New Mexico Territory, the men began to tell frightening stories around the campfire. The safety of the fort that they all called
the Queen of Forts seemed to loosen their tongues as well as their fears. Bethanie found the tales of a bloodthirsty half-breed named Charley Bent the most upsetting. Bent’s grandfather had been a kind country doctor, and then his father had operated a trading post before being named Indian agent. But Charley hated the white man and became a master of disguise, sometimes hiring on with wagon trains to protect the people against the likes of himself. Rumors about his whereabouts spread like grassfire. Some said after he failed at trying to kill his own father, he committed suicide. Others claimed to have talked with men who had seen him captured. But everyone’s nerves were on edge, as if expecting to see him any minute.

The shadows became suspect. The call of wild turkey made cold sweat inch down everyone’s spine. Even the lonely cry of coyotes along the breaks carved into Bethanie’s sleep like tiny knives whittle away at soft oak. Late each night she would pace the edges of the campfire hoping to wear herself down enough to sleep. As the outline of the fort came into view, she still could not shake the feeling of waiting for terror to strike.

Just after sunset, Bethanie was so lost in her fears that she didn’t hear Cain silently step up beside her. “Don’t take the stories too seriously, Mrs. Weston,” he whispered.

Bethanie straightened on her three-legged stool and tried to make her voice sound light. “I know some of the stories are only tales. We have the same tales in Texas. When you live through hard times, they somehow change in the telling.”

“I was here in ’65 when the war ended and some of the Rebs came to fight Indians.” Cain squatted on the ground beside her stool. “Locals called them Galvanized Yankees. They were the meanest, fightin’est group I’ve ever seen. They put a stop to most of the raids. Some
stayed on to help Dick Wootten build that toll road over Raton Pass. Some came south and worked on Fort Union. Most tried mining as every man does who comes into the mountains.”

Bethanie was surprised Cain was talking to her. These were more words than she’d ever heard him say. Perhaps the safety of night when she couldn’t see his scar loosened his tongue. Maybe he felt she needed calming conversation. Either way, she was thankful for his low, steady voice. She listened to his stories of the early days until her eyelids grew heavy, and she excused herself to crawl beside Mariah, who was sleeping under the wagon.

Bethanie curved her body around her child and watched Cain’s shadow in the firelight. Every night he would circle the ground around the wagon with his rope, believing snakes would never slither across it. Next, he would round up a load of wood to keep the fire going all night, even though the nightly chill would not freeze. Last, he always checked his knife and propped himself up so that he could keep a steady eye on her and Mariah. His actions tonight, as every night of the drive, brought Bethanie comfort and, she slept soundly knowing he was standing guard.

At dawn they left the protective shadow of Fort Union. The soil turned black, and piles of rocks jutted from the earth every few hundred feet. The cone hulls of longdead volcanoes spotted the land on either side of them as they neared Raton Pass. Cain told of a man who had opened a toll road over the pass the year the war ended. Wootten’s twenty-seven-mile road was the fastest route to northern Colorado.

As they reached the small settlement about dusk, Cain suggested going into town and finding a room for the night. The thought of a real bed and maybe a bath sounded heavenly to Bethanie. Cain said he knew of a
woman who would wash all their clothes and have them ready by noon. Bethanie looked at all her dingy dresses. Even though she’d scrubbed them at the water crossings along the way, everything she owned was stained with the red mud from the Canadian River or the black dust of New Mexico Territory.

Bethanie rode over to the trail boss. “I’m going on into town. We’ll catch up with you by tomorrow afternoon.”

Williams smiled and gave a respectful tap on his hat. He’d been with the Westons for several years. He knew enough not to question Bethanie.

Within an hour, Bethanie and Mariah were checked into a hotel room and had ordered a bath. Cain had gone to see about the horses and laundry. He’d told her simply that he’d see her at noon tomorrow. Bethanie had learned to trust him over the past weeks, so her mind was freer from worry than it had been since Ben’s death. She and Mariah took a long bath and ate dinner by the tiny fireplace while their hair dried. Mariah crawled up in Bethanie’s lap and fell asleep. Bethanie sat watching the fire die down and let her mind drift from one thought to another.