Taming the Wind

ELEVEN

Riding drag at the rear of the cattle drive was usually reserved for slackers as a means of punishment, but the men were all performing above and beyond the call of duty, so Tyler volunteered to eat trail dust for the day.

They were finally making good progress and were well on their way into Indian country. More than once they'd been approached or shadowed by small groups of "friendlies." Mostly they wanted to trade, but from time to time an Indian woman or old man would lay claim to a steer and swear it to be their own. Tyler did his best to avoid the encounters. Even if the Indians weren't Comanche, he still didn't want any dealings with them. William understood, and though Tyler knew he didn't approve, neither did he condemn.

Most of the time Tyler rode in silence and thought of Carissa and Gloria. The cattle moved at a slow pace, strung out along a two-mile length, interested mainly in grazing. Ted Terry had assured the men from his sickbed that once 124

the animals were used to the schedule, the days would pass more or less in a routine, barring the occasional mishap, accident, or stampede.

At night the animals were exhausted and if possible, the cattle were camped along or near water in an area with plenty of grass. They were secured by four riders who changed shifts every four hours. It worked well, and most of the time the men got decent sleep. Sometimes a few of the animals would wander off only to be rounded up in the morning, but for the most part things had gone smoothly. The farthest Tyler had needed to ride to recover cattle had been about two miles out of the way. And that hadn't been difficult, since the animals had simply followed the water. The horses, however, were a different story. They were more likely to wander and more likely to be stolen.

Each night Brandon secured a rope pen for the animals, and camp was made nearby to help keep an eye out for thieves. So far they'd managed to hang on to all of their mounts.

A slight breeze came up from behind him, clearing a bit of the dust and pushing it forward. Tyler paused his horse, pulled off his kerchief, and took a long drink from his canteen. A few of the steers were ambling toward the brush, but otherwise the herd continued forward in a steady progression.

Tyler shook the dust from the kerchief, then poured a bit of water on it before replacing it around his face. He secured the canteen and urged the horse forward to catch up to the steers that had wandered from the rest of the herd.

Tyler maneuvered his horse, rounding up the animals much like a parent seeing to wayward children.

Around noon they rested near a large stream of water.

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Andy and Newt took horses to Brandon to be changed out, while Tyler and William consulted their map.

"I had one of the boys scout ahead," William said, pointing to a position on the map. "He says we're just east of Fort Arbuckle--Chickasaw country. Said the fort is full of Buffalo Soldiers."

"Blacks?" Tyler asked, knowing the term.

William nodded. "Phil Sheridan uses the fort for his main supply center. Now that he's heading up the Indian campaigns, he stores a great deal of grain and hay there, as well as other provisions."

"Are we heading to the fort?" Tyler asked.

William shook his head and smiled. "Not on your life. I wouldn't want you former Rebs startin' up the war again. I don't know if the general is in the fort or not, but some of our boys aren't too fond of him. I don't want to see trouble-- especially when we've got so many miles ahead of us."

Tyler nodded. "So where are we headed now?"

"Up the Washita for a spell. I figure if we push hard and take advantage of the good weather, we can camp tonight maybe no more than five miles out from Cherokee Town. There's a good trading post there, and if we need to pick up provisions, we can trade a steer."

"Sounds good to me. You gonna let Brandon know?" Tyler asked.

"I will. Best grab some corn fritters and ham for the road. I don't intend for us to stop longer than to feed and change out the horses. I'll be sending Osage on ahead with the wagon as soon as he gets you boys fed."

Tyler nodded and made his way to the chuck wagon while Will rolled up the map. Osage handed out food to a couple

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of the men who were clearly in a hurry to get back on their way to keep the cattle from roaming too far. Tyler filled his canteen from the water bucket and waited his turn.

Osage grinned at him. "Your pa would be proud of you. You ain't walkin'

lopsided or holdin' your backside."

Tyler laughed. "I spent four years in the saddle for the South, if you remember." He took the fritters Osage offered and stuffed them in his coat pocket. Next he took a thick slab of ham and instead of pocketing this, Tyler began to eat it. Driving cattle was hard and tedious work, even when things went well, and Tyler was half starved.

"Hope there's more of this tonight," he said, turning to walk away.

"You bet there will be--along with beans, sourdough biscuits, and a nice hunk of molasses cake in honor of you."

Tyler stopped and threw a gaze back at Osage. "What are you talkin'

about?"

"Your birthday." The older man grinned from ear to ear. "Didn't think I'd remember, did ya?"

Shaking his head, Tyler stepped back toward Osage. "We don't need to be celebratin' my birthday. I'd all but forgotten it anyway."

"You gonna be selfish and not let these boys enjoy some of my Dutch oven molasses cake?"

Tyler laughed and shook his head again. "Well, when you put it that way, I can hardly refuse. After all, I'm sure you'd let it be known that I was to blame."

"You bet I would," Osage replied.

"Guess we'll be havin' cake, then," Tyler said, resuming his retreat. He saw Andy coming with his fresh mount. "Thanks for that, Andy. I appreciate the help."

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"No problem. Will says I gotta be good at doin' everything." He grinned and pushed back his white-blond hair. Dirt smears could be found on his face and dust on his clothes, but Andy's hair seemed as bright as always.

"You lose your hat?" Tyler asked, taking the reins.

Andy shook his head. "Just lettin' my head breathe--leastwise that's what Newt calls it." He grinned. "You see him slidin' before we left the ranch?"

Tyler nodded. "He seems pretty good at it."

Andy laughed. "Yup. He's just waitin' for that moment when he can slide under his first steer."

Tyler laughed and mounted. "I wouldn't let your head breathe too much, Andy. Not if Newt is any sign of what happens." He maneuvered the fresh horse on toward the back of the herd, gnawing off pieces of ham as he went.

He couldn't believe his birthday had come again; leave it to Osage to remember. He was thirty-three.

He thought of Carissa and wondered if she had any idea it was his birthday.

It was silly, he supposed. She hardly spoke two words to him when he left and probably wasn't thinking about him at all.

Thirty-three ... and what did he have to show for it? No wife or child. No home. No business of his own. He'd certainly turned out to be a disappointment. He frowned. A part of him wanted to blame the Comanche, but that really didn't seem right. He could certainly hold them responsible for some of his woes, but the war had robbed him, as well. And of course, there were his own mistakes. ... Thirty-three. Wasn't that the age of Jesus when He died for the world and rose again? Jesus had a ministry and purpose that was clearly defined and fulfilled by the time He

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was Tyler's age. It made Tyler's own situation even more discouraging--even though Jesus was the Son of God, and Tyler was just the son of a man killed by Comanche.

"Well, nothin' gained by mullin' over that," he said, shaking his head. He took another bite of food and encouraged his mount to a trot. Tonight he'd eat his cake and pretend to be happy.



***

The weeks passed more quickly than Carissa could have imagined, and before she knew it the calendar revealed the first of June. Ted recovered with surprising speed, so he and Marietta returned to their ranch, leaving the Barnett house rather empty without their stories and laughter. Carissa had enjoyed the tales told by both Ted and Marietta and was sorry to see them go.

Marietta promised they would return on Sundays if possible, and that Ted would offer short sermons. She had emphasized short, as the man was given to being rather longwinded when speaking on God's Word.

Laura was growing quite large in her pregnancy, and Hannah was finally starting to show just a bit. Carissa found herself almost jealous, as she remembered what it was like to marvel at the knowledge of a child growing within her. She wondered if she'd ever know that feeling again.

Word arrived to the Barnett ranch that the army had driven the Comanche and Kiowa far to the north and west. Everyone seemed to relax and breathe a bit easier with the news. The strain of worrying about an attack had been uppermost on everyone's minds, despite Hannah's belief that the Comanche would leave them alone.

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"I'm glad the army feels they have matters under control,"

Hannah declared. "I think this would be the perfect time for a trip to town. I know the men didn't want us leaving with the threat of attack, but now that things are fairly secure, I believe we could risk it."

"I definitely want to go," Carissa said, desperately needing the diversion. "It's nearly Gloria's birthday, and I want to get her a present."

"I'll just stay here if it's all the same," Laura said, patting her stomach. Daniel came to pat her as well. "Bee-bee," he said and grinned.

"Yes, that's your baby brother or sister," Laura told him.

He patted his own stomach and repeated the word before toddling off.

"Oh dear. I hope he doesn't think that baby is the word for stomach," Laura said with a frown.

Hannah laughed. "Even if he does, he'll learn soon enough."

She got up from the table. "I'm going to go talk to Berto about the trip to town.

He might not be as easily convinced to allow us to go, but I'll do what I can to sweeten the deal by taking him some of his favorite strawberry tarts."

Carissa watched her go, then asked her sister, "Would you mind keeping Gloria here with you?"

Laura shook her head. "Not at all. She keeps Daniel distracted.

Besides, I'm sure Hannah will want Marty to stay here and so I'll have her help."

"Can I pick up anything in particular for you?"

"Maybe some more white flannel. I'll need to make more diapers."

Carissa got to her feet. "I'll get a piece of paper and a pencil and we can make a list." She felt a bit excited. "It's

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been so long since we've been anywhere else that I feel like a child at Christmas." She hurried to retrieve the articles and came back to the table.

"Would you like me to bring you some peppermints, too?"

"Oh, that would be nice. But, really, we probably shouldn't spend the money.

We don't know when we can count on more."

"I can always wire the bank in Corpus to send me some here," Carissa offered. "Papa put plenty into my account before leaving."

"No, I wouldn't want you to risk it. Could be if someone thinks we're sitting on a pile of money they might very well try to take it from us."

"Well, I think we can spare enough for peppermints," Carissa said, writing the word down on the paper.

By the time Hannah returned, Carissa had added several other items. "Berto finally agreed," Hannah announced. "He knew I'd just figure a way to go without him if he didn't give in." She smiled in a most self-satisfied way.

"He'll come along and so will his brother Diego and a couple of the other men. They want to pick up some supplies, so we'll take the wagon and they'll ride. The rest will stay here."

Carissa stood. "I'm going to go trace Gloria's feet. She's about worn out her shoes, and I'd like to at least order her another pair if they don't have any in stock."

"That sounds like a good idea," Hannah said. "I'll measure Robert, too."

Two and a half hours later they were in Cedar Springs, and Carissa couldn't help but marvel at how busy the little town was. "I didn't know it was so big."

Hannah nodded. "They say it's growing right into Dallas--or the other way around. There's still space between the

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two, but who can say how long that will last?" She brought the horses to a stop in front of the mercantile and pointed to a sign that read P&L Dry Goods.

"This used to be Pritchard's Mercantile, but he lost it shortly after the war ended. Some sort of gambling thing," Hannah said, stepping down from the wagon with Berto's help.

Carissa allowed the man to assist her, as well. "Who owns it now?" she asked.

"Some businessmen from Dallas. One of the men put his brother in charge.

His name is Thomas Parsons. He and his family have done well with the place--doubled the size and offered a lot better selection than we could get during the war." Hannah turned to Berto. "Would you mind picking up the mail for us?"

"Si. I get it, then I come and load the wagon for you."

"That won't be necessary. I'm sure we can get the clerk to do it for us,"

Hannah replied.

Glancing down the street, Carissa spied a hotel and cafe, a bank, several saloons, and a bevy of other shops. It wasn't

Corpus, but it would do.

"Come on with me. I'll introduce you to Thomas and his wife, Betty."

Hannah led the way into the store, and Carissa followed behind, glancing quickly at her list. Compared to the bright outdoors, the store was much darker inside, but Carissa's eyes quickly adjusted and she saw that the shelves were well stocked, something rather unusual in the postwar South.

"Carissa, this is Mrs. Betty Parsons," Hannah introduced from across the room.

Crossing to the counter, Carissa smiled. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs.

Parsons. I'm Carissa Lowe."

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"Have you moved to the area recently? I don't recall seeing you before. Who are your people?"

Betty Parsons was a short, rather round woman who had a pleasant smile and faded blue eyes. "I am rather new," Carissa said. "I came from Corpus Christi to stay for a time with my sister and brother-in-law. Perhaps you know Brandon and Laura Reid?"

"I do. Sold them a pair of shoes for their little one. I heard they had a widowed sister and her child comin' to stay. That must be you. Where's your little one?"

"She stayed back at the ranch with my sister, Laura," Carissa replied.

"They're staying with us while the men are on the drive," Hannah offered.

The bell over the door rang as Ava Lambert entered the store. She was dressed in a bright pink-and-orange-striped gown that was unlike most of the dresses Carissa had seen in Corpus Christi. This gown wasn't nearly as full in the skirt, and it was cut rather low for a day dress. Not only that, but Carissa noted the woman wore quite a bit of face paint.

"Good morning, all," she said, sweeping across the room to join them at the counter. "Goodness, but it seems forever since I saw you ladies last."

Hannah smiled. "I risked a breakout from our little prison."

"Good for you," Ava said, beaming. She turned to Carissa. "And how are you, Mrs. Lowe? I certainly hope well--your daughter, too."

Carissa stiffened. "We're fine, thank you." She looked to Mrs. Parsons. "I have measurements here for my daughter. I need a new pair of shoes for her. And my nephew is already outgrowing that pair you sold them. Here are his measurements, too."

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"Oh, come along this way. I'll see what we have in store. Just got some lovely high-top brown leather boots for children.

You might like them."

Following Mrs. Parsons, Carissa didn't even excuse herself.

She knew she was being rude, but seeing Ava Lambert again rattled her.

She tried to forget about the woman as she examined the boots for Gloria.

She chose a pair and then went to explore the other areas of the store, hoping Ava had already departed. She wasn't so fortunate, however.

"I wonder if you've heard from Tyler and the others," Ava asked. "Have you picked up your mail yet?"

Carissa turned to face the woman. "No. We came here first, and Hannah sent Berto to get the mail." She tried hard to remain civil, but talking to Ava Lambert was the last thing she wanted to be doing.

"I do miss that man. He and his boys were faithful customers."

Without meaning to reveal her shock, Carissa's eyes widened.

"Customers?" Goodness, was this woman a prostitute?

Ava laughed, almost seeming to read Carissa's mind. "Don't look so shocked. I own the supper club on the south side of town. Tyler and his friends were always coming there to see me. Tyler enjoyed himself there a great deal ... and I enjoyed his being there."

"How nice," Carissa replied, trying to keep a civil tongue.

"I do a show there--singing and such," Ava continued. "Tyler loves to hear me sing. He said he's never heard anything like it." Carissa wanted to remark that such a comment might not be a compliment, but she held her tongue.

"I think he's the finest man west of the Mississippi," Ava said in a rather coy manner.

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If Carissa didn't know better she would have thought the woman was baiting her. Uncomfortable with the entire matter, Carissa moved to one side. "If you'll excuse me, I need to conclude my shopping."

"Personally, I think he'll make a great husband."

Her words felt like a knife in her back. Carissa whirled around to find Hannah approaching, and she hastily swallowed back a retort that had very nearly escaped her lips. Ava Lambert was positively brazen.

"Are you finished here?" Hannah asked. "I thought we might go over to the café to have some lunch before we head back. I promised Berto we wouldn't dally too long."

"I am most definitely ready to leave," Carissa said. "Just let me settle the bill."

Still unable to get Ava's words out of her mind, Carissa mulled over the idea that this woman appealed to Tyler.

Ava was so much more worldly and refined than Carissa could ever be. Her very manner radiated knowledge and experience.

"Mrs. Barnett, I heard you were in town and was on my way to find you," a man said, approaching. He tipped his hat briefly.

Carissa saw he wore a badge and for a moment feared some bad news had come about the men. She braced herself for the worst.

"Afternoon, Sheriff," Hannah said. She nodded to Carissa. "This is Mrs.

Lowe. She's staying at my place with her sister and their children while the men are on the trail. I believe William mentioned that so you could keep an eye out for their farm."

He tipped his hat again. "Yes, ma'am. Pleased to meet

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you." He looked back to Hannah. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you need to know something."

Carissa felt her heart in her throat. She prayed silently, begging God to have mercy on the men--particularly Tyler. She was so engrossed in prayer, in fact, that she very nearly missed the sheriff's announcement.

"Herbert Lockhart escaped from prison. He had help, but they don't know who."

Hannah had paled. "Herbert Lockhart escaped? The man killed my father and threatened to kill my brother and sister, as well as me. And now he's just out there--free?" She looked to Carissa. "I was wrong to come here. We should go home."

That was just fine with Carissa, who was more than ready to leave Cedar Springs in order to avoid encountering Ava Lambert again. But the fear in Hannah's voice revealed the urgency of the news she'd been told. Carissa realized this

Lockhart man was a very real threat.

"We will keep an eye out and let you know if we hear anything," the sheriff said. "I seriously doubt he'll come this way. He's too well known. My guess is he'll head west--probably

California."

Hannah nodded but said nothing more. She took hold of

Carissa's arm and started for the wagon. She spied Berto and waved him over. He came at a trot, the mail tucked under his arm.

"Si, Miss Hannah?"

"We need to go back to the ranch--now. The sheriff just told me that Herbert Lockhart has escaped prison."

Berto frowned and nodded. He handed her the mail. "I get the men." He hurried off toward a saloon.

"Who is this man--this Herbert Lockhart?" Carissa asked 136

as Hannah climbed into the wagon. She settled in beside the woman, only to notice that Hannah's hands were trembling. Carissa had never known Hannah to be afraid of anything. She reached out and squeezed Hannah's arm.

"He used to be my father's partner." Her words were matter-of-fact. "Herbert Lockhart killed my father."

"But why?" Carissa asked, as if that mattered.

Hannah fixed her with a frightened look, and Carissa could see that most of the color was gone from her face. "Lockhart wanted my father's fortune. He had my father killed and stole what assets they had in the business together.

Then he decided to try to force me to marry him so that he could claim the rest of it." She shook her head and tears came to her eyes. "He very nearly succeeded. He threatened Marty and Andy if I didn't cooperate. William saved us from him ... and I had hoped he would rot in jail."

Her words were a surprise to Carissa. Hannah never had anything but a kind comment for most everyone. "I think the sheriff surely must be right. Lockhart would be a fool to come here. If he's gone to all the trouble to escape prison, most likely he will flee the area so that they won't recapture him."

Hannah held her gaze for a moment. "I know you are probably right, but it's just so disturbing. I had hoped we'd seen the last of him. Now I just want to get back to the ranch and make sure that Marty and Robert are all right."

Carissa patted Hannah's arm. She wished she could say something to offer more comfort. Berto and the other men were approaching now, and Carissa watched as they hurriedly mounted their horses and gave Hannah a nod.

Once they were well on the road and headed back to the ranch, Carissa thought about Ava again and wondered if

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Hannah had any insight. "I know this might seem like poor timing," she began, "but I wonder what you know about that Ava Lambert woman."

Hannah's gaze never left the road. "All I know is that she owns the supper club and came here from California. I don't know where she's from, however.

The boys at the ranch don't go there too often. She charges way too much for a meal, according to Tyler."

"She says he likes it there and goes all the time."

Hannah gave a harsh laugh. "Of course she would. She's convinced everyone likes it there. Frankly, I think Miss Lambert is more than a little fond of herself."

"She seems quite fond of Tyler, too."

For the first time since they'd started home, Hannah looked at Carissa. "I don't think she's any real competition for you. Believe me; Tyler doesn't frequent her place all that often. Most of the time he's been right there at the ranch."

"She plans to marry him," Carissa blurted out.

Hannah frowned. "Well, her plans and his aren't necessarily the same thing.

Don't go asking for trouble. Tyler cares about you. I'm sure of that."

"I saw him with her ... when she came that day to the ranch with the doctor.

She was very familiar with him--kept touching him and holding his arm."

"I still don't think you should worry. She's been running her supper club for some time now, and the few times I've known Tyler to go there, I've not heard him say much more than how good the cooking is and that she sings well.

He certainly doesn't go on and on about Ava Lambert. Not the way he went on and on about you."

"What?"

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Hannah smiled. "Ever since he came back from Corpus Christi I've heard about you."

"Me?"

"Indeed. He talked about how silly and funny you were at first. He said you were quite spoiled, but a real beauty." Hannah seemed to forget about her woes and actually slowed the horses a bit. "Then later, after you came to stay with your

sister and Tyler found out about it, he was hard-pressed to keep from talking about you at every meal."

"I can't believe that."

Hannah laughed. "Well, believe it. Like I said, I've never heard him speak more than a few words about Ava's suppers, but I've heard great details about you and Gloria--especially of late. I don't think Ava is any serious concern."

Carissa fell silent and tried to absorb all that Hannah had said. Could it really be that Tyler cared for her and not Ava? By the time they reached the ranch, Carissa had just about convinced herself that her reaction to Ava Lambert had been born out of pure jealousy rather than reality. She'd feared Ava was taking Tyler from her, but Hannah was convinced that wasn't possible.

Upon their return, Hannah reined back on the team and set the brake. She looked to Berto. "Would you take care of the horses and unload?" She jumped down before he could help her and nearly fell.

Berto flew off the horse, but by that time Hannah had righted herself. "I'm fine. Please ... just take care of everything."

The man nodded and Hannah all but ran for the house. Carissa allowed Berto to help her from the carriage. "Berto, one of my packages has presents for Gloria's birthday. Could you maybe just take it to your house for now and have Juanita

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hide it? Gloria is always into everything, and I'm afraid she'll find it."

"Si, I do that. You no worry. Juanita will find a good place to keep it."

Carissa smiled. "Thank you." She turned toward the house and looked over to where she'd seen Tyler and Ava together. She tried to remember every moment and realized that Tyler truly hadn't seemed all that interested in the woman. She drew a deep breath and gazed heavenward, whispering,

"Please God, don't let him love Ava Lambert."



***

Tyler knew that if things went well, they would have less than a week left on the trail to get to Abilene, but already he was anxious for the drive to be over.

The cattle were restless and tired of the road, as well. They seemed to sense the end of the trip was upon them and like thirsty animals running for the watering hole, they were wont to run and stray.

There had been only a few delays and complications here and there, but even with the nearly perfect trip, they'd managed to lose some forty steers.

He supposed it wasn't such a big loss, but having nothing else to compare it with, Tyler could only imagine that representing as much as two hundred dollars, and the thought sickened him.

But it really wasn't about the money so much as the hope it represented.

Hope to buy back his ranch. He tossed and turned on his bedroll, finding sleep wouldn't come. By the time his watch came, he was exhausted.

In the distance he heard Newt singing a song he often used to calm the cattle. The distant sound of thunder was stirring the herd. Newt's voice acted as a balm to soothe them.

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Tyler smiled. If I tried to sing to them, they'd stampede for sure.

Newt's voice fil ed the air.

***

"He turned his face unto the wall--as deadly pangs he fell in.

Adieu! Adieu! Adieu to you all! Adieu to Barbara Allen!

As she was walking o'er the fields--she heard the bell a-knellin'

And every stroke did seem to say, unworthy Barbara Allen."



***

The melody was haunting, and the words tragic. Love unrealized because death stole it away. Love unrealized because of pride. Tyler shook his head and turned his horse to pace back the long line of cattle. Most had calmed, probably due to the singing, but occasionally a bellow rose as if to join in.

Tyler saw a flash of lightning far off on the horizon. Maybe the storm would go around them as some of the others had. They'd been more fortunate than others; just the night before they'd caught up with another drive and heard horror stories of storm stampedes. It reminded him of stories his father had told Tyler years and years ago.

Tyler looked heavenward and fixed his gaze on a cluster of stars. He remembered his father pointing out various constellations and telling him myths of old. "I miss you, Pa," he whispered. "If you can see me up there, I sure wish you'd put in a good word for me. Times are hard, and I feel close to failin'. They won't let me have your ranch--our ranch. The ranch we were gonna turn into an empire." He shook his head. Looking back at the cattle, Tyler felt such a wave

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of sorrow wash over him, he thought he might well break down and cry.

He had failed in so many ways. He'd failed to avenge his father's death, and he'd failed to reclaim the land his father had worked so hard for. How could he even think of Carissa and a life with her when there was so much undone that he needed to do?

They'd come through Indian Territory without any difficulty, but Tyler found he'd had to keep away from the Indians who came to beg food and favors.

He knew that he couldn't blame an entire race of people for what a few bad men had done. Still, he felt such a sense of raging anger whenever he set his gaze on an Indian. How was he supposed to offer love and pledge his life to a woman and her child when there was such hatred in his heart?

"God, I need your help," he prayed. "I don't know how to lay this anger down.

I don't know how to stop hating."