Taming the Wind

FOUR

"Brandon suggested a dog," Laura commented some days later. Carissa looked up from kneading the bread and nodded. "Tyler did, too. In fact, he said he'll bring one from the Barnett ranch when he comes to see us next time. Apparently they have a pup some nine or so months old. He says the dog knows to sound the alert on snakes."

Laura massaged her neck a moment, then continued pumping the butter churn. "I swear, I never knew so much hard work went into life. We were quite spoiled with our servants. When I think of our large house and all the work required to keep it clean, I have to say I feel quite guilty."

For a moment the life they'd known back in Corpus Christi flooded Carissa's memories. It was almost impossible to think of the girl she'd been without cringing. "I was so selfish then. I had no idea of the labor that went into ironing a gown or preparing a bath."

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"Or making butter," Laura said with a laugh. "It just appeared on the table, so I thought it must be quite simple."

Smiling, Carissa nodded. "The bread, too, just appeared. Although I knew that it had to be baked. I loved the way the aroma of freshly baked bread filled the house."

"It was so rare to have white bread during the war, and even now flour is so expensive. Oh, how I long for Cook's fresh-baked rolls. Do you remember those?"

"I do. They were so light." Carissa started separating the dough into round balls. "Do you want me to make another batch after these are set to rise?"

"No, that should be enough to get us through the week," Laura replied. "We'll need some things to take with us to the Barnett get-together. I was thinking maybe a cake or a couple of pies."

A glance at Laura told Carissa she was growing weary of the churn. "I can finish up the butter, and then bake a cake if you like."

Laura eased back against the chair. "I'm so tired of late. I'm sure it's because Daniel has had me up more nights than not. I don't know why his sleep has been so disrupted, but it's wearing me out."

Carissa had just finished with the bread and was wiping her hands when she heard the sound of a carriage or wagon pulling into the yard. "Who could that be?"

Laura shook her head. "I'm sure I don't know."

"Here, I'll take over, and you go and see," Carissa said, moving to the butter churn. She started the pumping process and could feel that the butter was thickening nicely. "This won't take long."

Soon Carissa could hear Laura chattering away with another

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woman. It was only a few moments before an older woman appeared in the kitchen at Laura's side.

"Carissa, this is Mrs. Terry. She lives on a ranch to the northwest of us."

"Pleased to meet you," Carissa said, glancing back to the butter churn. "I would rise, but I just got seated."

"Don't trouble yourself," Mrs. Terry replied. "I was visiting my neighbor Hannah, and I heard that your sister and brother-in-law had taken the old Lawton farm. I'm glad to see that someone is livin' here again."'

"Whatever happened to the former owners? I heard that they left before the war was over," Carissa said.

"They lost two boys in the war--early on," Mrs. Terry began. "Then the youngest boy and Mr. Lawton signed up and left Gladys and their two daughters behind. There were all sorts of land schemes going on during the war, but somehow Mrs. Lawton managed to keep the place running.

Unfortunately, her husband and son were injured. They managed to make their way back, but the ugliness and loss of war had really hurt them. Then entrepreneurs, trying to grab up as much land as they could, descended.

Before Ted and I even knew their dire situation, the family loaded up and left for California. Mrs. Lawton was a broken woman, I must say. This farm was her pride and joy."

"I can see why," Laura gestured toward the window. "It's quite beautiful, and it's obvious that a great deal of work went into the care of the ranch. Why, the flowers and fruit trees alone must have taken considerable time and attention. I hate that we should benefit from their troubles."

"Gladys would be glad that it went to a family like yours." Mrs. Terry paused and smiled. "I've heard such good things

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about you all from William and Tyler. I'm so glad to have the chance to meet you both before tomorrow's fixin's. It'll be a noisy affair with all the children playing and the menfolk discussing their cattle drive."

"We were just talking about that," Laura said. "I thought perhaps I'd bring a cake or a couple of pies. What do you think?"

Mrs. Terry shook her head. "Save yourself the trouble. I brought over a wagon full of food, and Hannah and Juanita-- that's Hannah's housekeeper and cook--were already hard at work. Food is one thing we won't lack for, so just come as you are."

"Doesn't seem neighborly not to bring something," Laura said, glancing at Carissa.

"My mama always said bring a smile and that's good enough." Mrs. Terry grinned. "There will be enough future gatherings where you can furnish food.

For now, just come and get to know everyone."

Mrs. Terry then glanced out the window. "Now I need to be gettin' to town with the mister. He's out front speaking with your husband, but he'll want to be off soon. Why don't you come out and say hello," she told Laura.

Carissa chimed in, "Go on and greet him for me, as well. This butter is nearly done, and it won't be long before the children are awake. Then we'll be hard-pressed to get anything done in an orderly fashion."

Once they'd gone, Carissa allowed the steady rhythm of the churn to calm her. The notion of everyone gathering the next day at the Barnett ranch had set her on edge. She pictured everyone laughing and sharing their stories--

husbands, wives, children. And there would be Carissa--on the outside.

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Alone, with a child ... and yet dependent on her family. She knew many war widows had already remarried, but Carissa had no desire to give her heart away again.

A fleeting image of Tyler Atherton touched her thoughts. He seemed so kind and generous, but then, so had Malcolm before their wedding. After the ceremony he had almost immediately shown his irritation and lack of patience with her. It had been hard to realize just how much Malcolm had fooled her--fooled everyone.

"Well, it won't happen again," she said aloud, shaking her head. "Never again."



***

Tyler sat down at the supper club with his former men. At one time they had fought together for the South, and now they were just struggling to eke out a living. Thanks to William they all had jobs and pay, but Tyler wanted a place of his own with his own men to help work it.

"My, my. It's good to see you again, Tyler," Ava Lambert purred, sashaying around the back of his chair.

"Ava. The boys and I decided it might do us well to hear you sing tonight,"

Tyler said with a smile.

The proprietress--and entertainer--nodded to the men. "Show starts at nine, like always. You boys get your supper ordered? I have some of the best beef steak you could ever sink your teeth into. Melt in your mouth--guaranteed.

Fresh in from Dallas." Her words were enticing and low, but it was her expression that had most of the men in the place eating out of her hand.

"We'll have a round of 'em," Tyler declared. He turned to the men. "Ante up, boys, I ain't footin' the whole bill."

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Ava laughed and touched Tyler's shoulder. "I see you put on a clean shirt for me. I'm honored."

Tyler laughed. "I put on a clean shirt most times I come to town for supper.

Seems only polite to leave the dirt back at the ranch."

"You gonna have any dancin' tonight, Miss Ava?" Isaac Sidley asked. The youngest of the men, Sidley had joined Tyler's unit when he'd been not more than fifteen. Of course he'd lied about his age, and because he was a crack shot with a rifle, the army ignored their concerns. Now five years later, he still was barely growing enough stubble to shave.

"Not tonight," Ava said, touching the boy-man's cheek. "But don't you worry, darlin'--I'll keep your attention." Isaac blushed furiously and ducked his head to hide his embarrassment. Ava gave a deep, throaty laugh and moved away from the table. "See you in a little while, boys."

Tyler took the opportunity to ease Isaac's distress by introducing the reason he'd asked them to join him. "Y'all know we're puttin' together a cattle drive with Will Barnett and Ted Terry. We're gonna need drovers. Pay's decent, but the work will be gruelin' and dangerous. Since I have a good number of steers to put in the drive, Will and Ted said I could extend a job to you boys at thirty dollars a month. It's payable when we get the steers to Abilene."

"Texas?" John asked.

Shaking his head, Tyler eased back in his chair. "No. Kansas. It'll take us at least ninety days, and you'll be paid for all of it."

Grubbs gave a whistle. "That's ninety dollars. I ain't never had that much money to my name."

Isaac nodded, wide-eyed. "Is Abilene the new railhead west of the capital city?"

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Tyler nodded. "It is. Ted's heard from friends that it's a good place to get the cattle to market."

David Bierman looked apprehensive. "I heard the trail goes straight through Indian Territory. That true?"

"It is, and as much as I'd like to avoid any involvement with those savages,"

Tyler replied, "it appears a necessary evil. It's nearly a straight shot north through what I'm told is friendly Indian country. If that's possible." He pushed down his anger and tried not to dwell on what had happened to his father.

"The trip is across decent ground--a lot of good grazing and water on the way."

"Well, I've learned to rope and ride a fair sight better than when you asked me to drive cattle to Louisiana," Bierman replied with a grin. "I'm in."

"Me too," Isaac concurred. "Ceptin' for Will's place, I ain't seen work even offered around here except for roundup.

I was fixin' to head out west, maybe try my hand at minin'."

"This will be a whole lot surer than minin'. What about you, John?" Tyler asked.

"I was hopin' to be asked. Been hearin' some of the others talkin' about it.

Sounded like a pretty good deal."

Tyler nodded. "I think it will be. Ted Terry has some men, and Will has his.

Now I feel better knowing I'll have some of my own."

"This drive gonna help you get your place back, boss?"

Tyler smiled at the title. His men had always called him Lieutenant in the war, but he'd rebuked them harshly for any such comment these days. Such a comment could get a whole fight started before you could even blink.

Thankfully, John had started calling him boss instead, and it just sort of stuck. Of course, they all hoped that one day they would be

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working for Tyler for real, instead of hanging around to see what kind of side jobs they could land.

"I have no way of knowing when or how or even if that's gonna happen. I do know that my plan is to sell off as many steers as I can so that if I need to buy back every acre of that property, I'll be able to. I owe that much to my pa."

"Well, you'll have our help," John replied. "Ain't a one of us here you didn't manage to keep alive in the war. We ain't forgettin' that." The other men nodded in a silent, solemn promise. "Besides, we'd all rather work for you in the long run."

The food came and just as Ava had promised, it was some of the best steak Tyler had tasted in a long while. They weren't given to eating a lot of beef these days, since most ranchers were busy trying to find ways to get their cattle to market. The war had created a hunger for beef in the bellies of the nation east of the Mississippi, and Texans were only too happy to deliver the product and make their fortune. Tyler could only hope and pray to be among their number.

At precisely nine, Ava appeared on stage in a daringly low-cut, sleeveless black gown. She had black satin gloves that encased her hands and most of her arms and around her neck was a cluster of rhinestones that twinkled when the light hit just right. Matching earrings dangled from her lobes and her hair was swept up with black ostrich feathers to complete the look. It was her signature look for performing--something she said she'd begun while in California, entertaining in San Francisco.

For some reason Ava had given up her life there and moved to Texas just the year before. She'd brought a small entourage with her--a prized chef and several maids, as well as a handful

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of musicians. She had thought to settle in Dallas proper, but real estate had been more reasonable in Cedar Springs, and everyone knew it would be just a matter of time before Dallas engulfed the little town anyway. So she built her supper club on the Dallas side of town and drew in a remarkably large crowd most every evening. Once word spread, people were known to come from as far away as Austin.

A four-piece band began to play softly, and Ava smiled and touched a hand to her carefully coiffed and decorated hair. Ostrich feathers fluttered in the air as she began to move and sway to the rhythm.

Tyler took a long drink of the hot coffee the waiter had just poured as Ava's melodious voice joined the musicians.

"When the hours of Day are numbered,

And the voices of the Night

Wake the better soul that slumbered,

To a holy, calm delight;

*

Ere the evening lamps are lighted,

And, like phantoms grim and tall,

Shadows from the fitful firelight

Dance upon the parlor wall,

*

Shadows from the fitful firelight

Dance upon the parlor wall."

The words startled Tyler. They were from an old Longfellow poem his mother had loved. "Footsteps of an Angel," wasn't it? He could almost see his mother sitting by the fireplace reading from her book of much-loved poetry.

"'Then the forms of the departed enter at the open door,'" Ava sang, and the words chilled Tyler to the bone.

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"The beloved the true hearted,

Come to visit me once more;

He, the young and strong, who cherished

Noble longings for the strife,

By the roadside fell and perished,

Weary with the march of life.

By the roadside fell and perished,

Weary with the march of life."

Tyler thought of all the young men he'd seen die in the war. It hadn't taken many battles to leave them weary. Truth be told, he was weary from the march of life. Weary that he should have to fight so hard to right wrongs.

Thoughts of the departed brought his father's image to mind. Howard Atherton had been the wisest man Tyler had ever known. He'd been generous and loving, too, and now he was dead. If only Tyler had stayed at the ranch that day. I might have been able to save him. Tyler shook his head.

Most likely I might be buried alongside him.

Either way, I failed, Tyler thought as Ava continued the song. I failed to be there when you needed me most, Pa. Failed to keep the ranch. He sighed.

All he had wanted was to make his father proud. His pa had always said that a man was no better than his word, and that his word had to be backed by actions. If a man gave his pledge to something--then it was up to him to see it through. Otherwise, what good was that man?

I made a pledge to avenge you, Pa, and I sure haven't seen that through.

Tyler glanced at the ceiling, wondering if his father could hear his thoughts.

Since the tragic death of his father and other Atherton ranch hands, Tyler had mulled over

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the idea of seeking out his father's killer. Osage McElroy was one of three men who'd survived the attack. The other two men had moved on, but Osage stayed. While Tyler was away at war, it was Osage and a couple of other trustworthy men who had kept the ranch running. Now they worked for Will.

A bitter taste was in his mouth, and Tyler quickly took another swig of the coffee. Osage had detailed the attack for Tyler. There had been a threat all week--it was one of the reasons his pa had insisted Tyler take the womenfolk and Grandpa Venton to Dallas for shopping and visiting. They'd be safe there with friends in case something happened.

The men thought they could handle the Indians, but they were ill-prepared.

Lulled into believing the threat had passed, they put down their guard and were surprised just before dawn. It was easy enough to learn it was a renegade group of Comanche who'd killed his father, but no one knew for sure the name of the leader. There were all kinds of rumors, but Osage always said he'd know the man if he ever saw him again.

Ava's voice rang rich and smooth.



***

"Uttered not, yet comprehended,

Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,

Soft rebukes in blessings ended,

Breathing from their lips of air.

*

Oh, though oft depressed and lonely,

All my fears are laid aside,

If I but remember only

Such as these have lived and died!

*

If I but remember only

Such as these have lived and died!"



***

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The music ended and the men in the supper club clapped furiously. Tyler let the words settle over him and ease the pain of his memories. Oh, though oft depressed and lonely, all my fears are laid aside, if I but remember only such as these have lived and died!

Of course, Tyler knew that God was truly the only help for his kind of sorrow.

There was depression and loneliness to be sure, but also anger, hatred, and a sheer will to avenge. God alone had helped him calm the spirit of anger and revenge, but every so often, the beast reared its ugly head.

Tyler looked back to his plate as Ava bowed and then began a jollier tune.

He couldn't help but think of Carissa and all that she'd endured. He wondered if she'd ever heard the poem. Perhaps he'd have to share it with her sometime. It was certainly the kind of verse she could appreciate.

He tried hard not to dwell on her, but he couldn't help it. Ever since he'd pulled Carissa out of the Gulf of Mexico, Tyler had found himself inexplicably connected to the young woman. Even during the last few years when he'd seen nothing of her, Tyler couldn't shake her image from his mind--nor the thoughts of the way she felt in his arms.

"And now she's here, and I'm going away."

"What was that, boss?" John questioned, leaning across the table. "You need something?"

Tyler shook his head. "No. Just thinkin' out loud."