Lone Star Bride
“I didn’t say I was a woman.” She talked from the back of her throat, hoping it sounded rough and manly. “I have a dream for my life, and riding out across the country is part of that. What about your dreams? That’s why you’re here, right?”
“This isn’t about me.” Each word slipped between gritted teeth. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “There’s plenty of work on the ranch. Why do you need to leave to do that?”
“If I can go with the herd and come back, that’ll prove how good I am at the work that needs to be done. I have to prove I can do this. I might be small, but I’m strong. The thought of being trapped inside all day for the rest of my life, planning meals and making sure the dust is gone, is a nightmare. It makes me sick.”
“Some men don’t come back from the trail.”
She stood straighter. “I’ll come back.”
Confusion and bewilderment clouded his face. “You’re a strange female.”
She heard that already this week. Narrowing her eyes at him, she took a step back. “I’m just telling you why I want to ride with the herd.”
A grim slant tightened his lip. He looked off to the river moving over the rocks and around the roots of the old cypress. “You’re still claiming to be a male?” He cut his gaze back to her.
Her throat constricted. Life was so unfair. All the power to change the direction of her life was in his hands.
Closing her eyes, she prayed. She prayed for wisdom, for fortitude and for guidance.
Standing as tall as she could manage, she made sure to look him in the eye and hold his gaze. Show no fear. “You hired me to work with the cook. I’ll be cleaning the chicken crate, taking care of the mules and starting fires. I have the safest job on the drive. Please, you don’t have time to replace me. Let me do the job. You won’t regret it.”
Last year, during a father and son lesson, she overheard her father talk about tending to business. He said the best way to ruin a deal was to overtalk when you were nervous. State your requirements, then stay quiet. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to remain silent.
He crossed his arms, glanced at her, then went back to studying the water. Moving his hands to his pockets, he sighed and looked down.
She held her breath.
“Okay, Tiago.” Sarcasm coated his voice. “I think we’ll stick with that name. It’ll be easier if the rest of the crew continues to believe you’re a boy. Less disruptive. Plus, I don’t really know all of them, and I’m not sure we can trust them.”
Her heart thumped against her chest. She was staying. “Thank you. I’ll be the best cook assistant you’ve ever had.”
“Just keep your head down and stay out of trouble.” Jaw tight, he squinted at her. “You sure about this? There’s still time to go back to the ranch. It’s going to get rough out there, and you’re not going to get any special treatment.”
“I don’t have anything to go back to right now.” Her heart wanted to jump out of her chest. Holding her smile at bay the best she could, she gave him a nod. “I’ve been ready for this longer than I remember.”
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and she ran to the wagon. It was official. Jackson knew she was a woman, and she still had a job. One less thing to worry about. Every moment from here on out was a gift from God. She was going across the country with a herd of cattle, all the way to New Orleans.
It was time to get her job done. Going through the crates and barrels and making a list of the supplies wasn’t as fun as roping and herding, but it was what she had for now. With a glance, she checked the location of her boss. He stood with Cook.
Back there, he gave in so quickly. She mentioned dreams and his expression changed, but that couldn’t be all. She wondered if her seeming to be of low status had anything to do with it. Would he be willing to give her this chance if he knew she was De Zavala’s daughter?
Chapter Six
Jackson took a deep breath, drawing in the morning air. A light fog hugged the low ground between the hills. Sounds of soft rumblings from the cattle and calls from the cowboys assured him all was going well.
The herd looked good, and everything was going as scheduled. The six drovers were in place, guiding the steers.
Cook had done this trail several times and started earlier in order to stay in front. The wrangler, Estevan, had the horses following the wagon. Jackson had checked on Tiago at daybreak, and she had seemed eager to get started.
One night on the ground hadn’t scared her off. He wondered if she would have the same smile by the end of the week. His wife had hated traveling. She had joked that if they went anywhere, he would need a wagon big enough for a bed and a tub.
His thoughts returned to the wagon’s petite passenger. Had he made a mistake that would put the whole trip in jeopardy?
He needed to stay focused to make sure everyone got home safely.
A horse ran up behind him. He put his hand on the butt of his rifle and turned to face the newcomer head-on.
It was the woman. He had a hard time thinking of her as Tiago now that he knew the truth.
Her smile was wider than the Mississippi. “Cook said it would be easier on the mules if my saddle and I weren’t in the wagon. I saw you up here and wanted to see the herd moving out.”
“This is not a sightseeing excursion. You can’t be running all over the place without—”
“Cook knows where I am, and I don’t need a chaperone. I’m Tiago, remember.” She pulled her horse up next to his as if she wasn’t afraid of him one bit.
He allowed his gaze to take in her profile. Even with the short hair and baggy clothes, she was perfectly feminine.
“If I had any sense, I’d send you home now, before we get too far out.”
The smile disappeared, and with one quick motion she pinned him with a hard stare. “No. We came to an agreement. You have to honor it.”
“Yeah, you also agreed to stay close to the wagon. Less than twenty-four hours out, and you’re running wild.”
The hat wobbled with the panicked shake of her head. “I’m not close to the herd.” The rawhide gloves tightened over the slacked reins. “You need me and I’m...”
Oh no, was she tearing up? He cleared his throat and turned away, not sure what to do or say.
“Look at this, Jackson. It’s breathtaking. I want to hold it close to my heart and never forget it. The sounds and the sights. An endless motion of animals moving as one over the land I love. How could I miss seeing this?”
She looked back to the never-ending line of moving longhorns. “This is what I dreamed about.” Turning to him, her smile was faint, but making its way back. “Thank you.”
He sighed and scanned the wide-open vista. Texas was a place where big dreams found a home. “No reason your dreams can’t come true just because you’re a woman.” What kind of woman would his daughter have become?
Would he have allowed her to have plans outside of the roles set for women? She had been six when she was killed, so he’d never get to know.
That morning he rode out she had asked to go with him, but he thought she’d be safer at home with her mom and baby Jack. The anger that simmered in his gut flared.
If he had taken her with him, she’d still be alive and turning eleven soon. “If you’re not with the wagon, stay close to me. I don’t want the others figuring out you’re a female.”
She nodded, happiness back on her face. “Thank you.”
“Come on.” He nudged his horse down the hill toward the sea of cattle. “What we want is an uneventful trip. That takes awareness and anticipatory action.” In order to make sure he did his job, he had to stay focused. Maybe keeping her close would be easier. Wondering where she was at any given moment was going to wear him out.
* * *
Sofia took in everything around her. Later tonight, she would write it all down. She wanted to burn every detail into her memory.
The future her mother had wanted for her was a pale watercolor compared to the real-life energy brushed across the valley they were passing through.
Jackson checked in with each of the drovers.
Will Redmond and Rory Brosnen covered the end of the herd. Rory, the one she learned was from Ireland, was the first rider they approached.
“You got a bodyguard now, boss?” He smiled at her. “So we have the honor of riding with the tiniest bullfighter in all of the country.” He clicked a couple of times to the cattle before turning back to her. “Maybe we should trade places. I’ve been known to cook up a mean meal, and my ropin’ skills don’t touch yours.” He followed that with a wink.
Sitting straight in the saddle and staring at the horizon, she didn’t respond.
Jackson frowned. “Tiago will be staying with the cook or me. There will be no trading.”
Rory laughed. “Easy, boss, I was kidding with Two Bit here. You Yanks are so serious.”
“I’m not a Yank.” Jackson grumbled something else under his breath, but she couldn’t make it out.
“Where I’m from, you’re all Yanks. Except for Two Bit here. What are you, kid?”
“I’m a Texan. Why did you leave your home and come all the way here?”
“Oh, you don’t know the rules on the trail.” He shook his head as if truly disappointed in her.
In a panic, she turned to Jackson. “Rules?”
Jackson sighed. “You don’t ask a man about his past, ever. If he wants to tell you, he will, but you never ask.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Brosnen. I didn’t mean to offend you.” There was so much about being a boy she didn’t know. Her brother would have known not to ask those questions.
“No worries. Call me Rory. I have a clean shirt, a clear conscience and enough coins in my pocket to buy a pint. Life is meant to be lived in the moment with no regrets. But I can tell you already know that.” He winked again. Maybe he had a tick.
Jackson cleared his throat and urged his horse forward, cutting between her and Rory. “We’re going to talk to the others. See you tonight, unless you run into trouble. Let me know.”
“Yes, sir.” His voice had a touch of laughter in it as he saluted them. “See you tonight, Two Bit.”
Once they got out of hearing, Jackson looked at her. “You need to stay away from the men.” He shook his head. “You don’t look anything like a boy, you’re too pretty. I’m not sure we can maintain your disguise.”
Normally, that would be a compliment. Coming from a man like Jackson, it made her want to blush, but she knew he wasn’t flattering her. To him, it was a problem.
“I’m not sure what else to do.”
“It was a mistake to let you ride with me to the herd.” He squinted at her.
“What?” She wiped at her cheeks. “What’s wrong?”
“Maybe you could rub dirt on your face. That might help.”
She already had an inch layer of dirt, and they weren’t even two full days out yet. “I don’t see how that will help.”
“Stay away from Will. Of all the men, he’s the one I trust the least. I’m taking you back to Cook, and you need to stay there.”
“He said I—”
“You don’t have to ride in the wagon, but I want you right next to it. No wandering off. It’s not just the longhorns that are dangerous. There are all sorts of hostiles that roam the area, two legged and four legged. With the herd, we’ll probably draw their attention. I don’t want you caught alone.”
Her hands fisted around the reins. Arguing with him would make her look childish, so she locked her jaw and studied the countryside opposite him.
As they rode in silence for a bit, a wooden cross appeared on the top of the hill they were climbing. As they got closer, she saw a pair of worn boots that looked out of place sitting next to the cross.
Without thought, she stopped her horse. The name Hank Winfield was crudely carved into the wood. Grass and weeds had started growing over the mound of dirt. Jackson took off his hat and lowered his head. She followed suit and took the time to pray. To remember. To listen to God.
After a moment of silence, Jackson raised his head and turned his horse back to their path.
“Why do you think they left his boots there by the cross?” Whispering seemed appropriate, even though there was no one else around.
“Don’t know. I’ve never seen the like before. It meant something to the men who rode with him and buried him.”
“Jackson, I know the dangers. I have lived in this country all my life. I thought I had gained your respect enough for you to trust me.”
“This has nothing to do with respect. I’ve also told the men not to wander off alone, but you’re the only one I fear will actually ignore that order. I don’t want to leave any of you in this ground.”
There wasn’t a thing she could say to that. “I’ll go straight to Cook. You go on and check on Will. I promise I won’t wander off.”
He sighed. “We already have a small team, so don’t do anything to make us smaller.”
She smiled at him. He was a good leader, the kind who cared about all his people. She needed to stop thinking it was all about her.
“Sí, jefe.” She laughed at the expression on his face. He didn’t seem to like the title “boss.”
With a kick to her horse, she galloped away from him. For all her bravery, she knew she needed to be careful. She was all her father had left, and if something happened to her, he might not survive.
If she was a good daughter, she probably wouldn’t be here. But on the other hand, when she returned from a successful cattle drive, he would know he had more than just a daughter to marry off. Not a burden to be dealt with, but a partner who could help run the ranch.
Maybe then they could think about a future where they both could have what they wanted.
She wanted to be part of the ranch. Did that mean she’d never have a family? New people were moving in all the time. Maybe there would be a way to get both.
For the first time, she had hope that her dream and her father’s could be one and the same.
Chapter Seven
They had been on the trail for a week, and she found herself always looking for ways to spend time with Jackson. His mission seemed to be avoiding her.
He was so different from any man she met before. Sofia pulled up on the reins and straightened her legs. It wasn’t midday yet and stiffness held every muscle hostage.
Her thought about Jackson confused her. For this trip, she needed to remember to be a boy, but it was hard around him.
The urge to giggle irritated her. Settling back into the saddle, she patted the withers of the mare she was riding today. “Life was a lot easier when all I cared about was horses.” Her mount tossed her head and Sofia snorted. “So is there a male horse that is giving you serious self-doubt?”
With a sigh, she realized she missed the company of other women. That was a surprise. If she had been asked over a week ago, she’d claim boredom with the endless gossip and talk of fashion.
Right now, she’d love to talk about silly things. Well, she wanted to talk about Jackson, but he was the only one she could talk to, so that was not possible.
The mare nickered. Sofia looked around. To the right, there was a water hole, more like a mud puddle, but she gave the mare her head and let her go to the muddy edge.
Dropping her head, the horse pawed, splashing the shallow water over both of them. Sofia laughed. Now mud joined all the dust layering her skin.
“Come on, girl. Jackson wants us with the wagon.” The horse leaped to the other side of the small drop-off. “I think we can cut across here to meet Cook up ahead.”
The mare stopped and lowered her head. Her ears pointed forward. She took a step back. Sofia kicked her. “Let’s go!” The horse refused to move.
Raising her head high, ears pointed forward, the mare snorted. Three horses with half-dressed warriors approached from the top of the grassy slope. They stopped when they saw her.
She bit her lip so not to scream. Blood ran over her tongue. Her hands clutched the reins until they were numb. Did she go for her rifle or run? Her heartbeat throbbed in her head, leaving no room for a clear decision.
The ground dropped away a few feet to the right. How far would the fall be? God, please help me.
She didn’t want to die here. Would they even find her body? What if they didn’t kill her? What if they took her?
The horror tales shared in hushed voices clouded her brain. Her horse took another step back. Did she lift her hands in peace or pull the rifle? Her father taught her to never point a gun at someone unless she was ready to kill.
She could kill only one, and the others would be on her. If they were slow, she could get two, but there was no way to kill all three.
What if her life was over right here and now?
“Santiago.”
For a moment, she thought someone had called out to her brother, but he was dead. Was she already dead and didn’t know it?
“Back your horse to me.” It was Jackson’s low steady voice that offered sanctuary. One slow step at a time brought her even with Jackson. He was holding up a rifle.
Without thought, she pulled hers from the casing and rested it against her shoulder. It was two against three now. This was doable.
Lungs filled with sweet air. She might live to see home again. The three dark warriors stared at them.
“Go on to the wagon. I’ll follow you.”
Gulping down a few breaths so she could find her lost vocals, she cleared her throat. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
He growled. She held her weapon firm and steady despite the trembling of her heart. She couldn’t help but think her father and brother would be proud.
Her mother? Horrified.
“Start backing straight out, keeping them in your sight.” He lowered his gun, resting it across the saddle. She mimicked his action.
With a slight nod to the men across the water hole, he moved his horse back. She did the same.
The three painted horses stepped to the water and started drinking. With Jackson by her side, she breathed a little easier. A quick glance, and she saw his jaw flex. Other than that small tick, his posture was relaxed.
“We are going to turn to the direction of the wagon, nice and easy. I need to tell the boys to keep an eye out. They might grab a steer or two.”
“What do we do to stop them?”
“Nothing. Consider it cost of business. The one thing we don’t want is a full-on attack. They take a couple of cows to their people, and we move on to the border.”
“So we’re just going to let them steal our cattle?”
He sighed. “Yes. You need to keep the mules in their harness tonight. They are more valuable than anything else we have here.”
She looked over her shoulder. The warriors were gone. “Where did they go?” Chills ran down her spine as she scanned the hills. “Are they watching us?”
“Probably.” He slid his rifle back into its leather scabbard.
“What do we do?” Forcing herself to look straight ahead was hard to do when her skin felt tight from the unseen men studying her movements.
“Nothing. Three don’t travel far on their own. Stay close to the wagon and make it hard for them to get to the mules. Once we join Cook, I’ll go warn the others. Stay vigilant.”
With a nod, she looked over her shoulder again. “How long will they follow us?”
“A day or two. We don’t want to make it easy for them to get into the camp.” He looked over his shoulder. “If we allow them to take a couple of the steers, and make sure we have the wagon and horses covered, they should move on.”
Nodding toward her rifle, his eyes narrowed. “You know how to use that? Ever shot a living thing?”
“Yes. My father taught me to shoot what I was aiming for. I never missed my target. Even the moving ones.”
He chuckled and looked at her. She couldn’t tell if the spark in his eyes was amusement or admiration.
“Good. I tell you what—you are one strange woman, and for once I’m very happy about that. Tie your horse to the wagon and sit with Cook. You can ride shotgun.”
The pounding of her heart seemed to have changed directions. Instead of fear, something else jolted it.
A different kind of anxiety. Jackson trusted her to protect the wagon. She sat straighter. “I can do that. Thank you for trusting me.”
“What’s your real name?” A grim line replaced any smile he might have had.
“I thought we agreed I would be Tiago so there was no confusion.” Was he going to get all manly and protective on her? Riding with Cook might not be about her protecting the wagon, but keeping her locked away.
She glared at him, trying to figure out his motive.
“You know I can help. You don’t have to keep me in a safe place.” She didn’t want to admit that her heart had soared with relief when he had joined her.
“When I saw you across from the warriors, I wanted your real name. What if something does happen? My first thought was...if I have to bury her, I won’t know the name to carve into the marker.” There was an angry clip to the edge of his voice. “I want to know the real you. Not the fake name.”
“I am Santiago. If I die on the trail, that is who you will bury.” Pushing her hat lower, her hands trembled.
He reached across his horse. Under his large hand, hers disappeared. “I will not be burying you on this trail.”
Chapter Eight
Sofia wrapped the colorful blanket tighter. Weak and tired, her body still refused to go to sleep. There were saddle sores on top of saddle sores.
Images of Rosita in the kitchen making tortillas appeared like a fantasy, a dream from a fairy tale that didn’t really happen.
Now she ate more dust than chow. Unable to sleep, she studied the colors in the woven patterns.
It would be easier to think about the parts of her body that didn’t hurt, maybe her head. That was it. Everything below her jaw ached. She thought she had worked hard before, but she had been a sheltered baby.
The woman who returned to her father would be different from the woman she was before she left.
A quick glace to the loaded rifle laying within reach was evidence of the change. She glanced at the mules, making sure they were still safe.
Still in the harness, they lay on the ground a few yards away from her. She scanned the edge of darkness for any threats.
Today, she had faced the possibility of her own death. She had survived without much of an incident other than going numb with fear.
She hated that she hadn’t known what to do. That Jackson had come to her rescue. Would she have made it back to the wagon if he hadn’t shown up?
Sometime during the week, she started waking up looking forward to seeing him. The chores were done in fast order, and she got the wagon moving quickly so she could ride out and find him.
He sat a horse better than any man she had ever seen, but it was more than that. He was more than a good-looking man that knew how to ride well. At his core, deep in his eyes, he not only understood her, but he needed someone to understand him.
Not that it was where her mind should go. Rubbing her face, she hoped to scrub the thoughts of the quiet talking Kentucky man from her brain.
The sounds of campfire companionship drifted over the night. The men still sat around the low fire, laughing and playing music. The songs were all foreign, not the kind she was used to.
Jackson warned her to keep as much distance as possible from the cowboys. She never felt so alone around other people.
She licked her lips. That was a mistake. So, she hurt above her jaw, too. They had never been so dry and cracked before. The taste of dirt and dust came with every painful breath she took.
She dreamed of riding alongside the longhorns, but instead most of her days were spent sitting next to Cook or going into the wagon and doing prep work for him. The one time she rode off, she got in trouble.
She coughed again. All the dust was never going to clear her lungs.