41
Texas Administrative Division McDonald Lake was a small, brown, roughly triangular patch of brackish water hidden away in a thicket of dense forest a mile or two southeast of where Texas 155 crossed the Farm to Market Road 321. The woodlands, closely woven with black hickory, cedar, elm, sugarberry, and bunch grasses, enclosed a large fenced clearing where the cattle could graze safely without any danger that they might be observed by road agents. Miguel was also hopeful that the vegetation might smother some of the noise that always attended a herd, even now, late at night, with the animals content to stand around occasionally tearing mouthfuls of feed from the earth but mostly settling down to sleep.
A hard chill had returned with nightfall, and both he and Sofia were well wrapped up inside thick lamb's wool jackets. Both still wore their riding gloves, however, rather than thicker winter mittens, just in case they should suddenly have need of their weapons. Miguel still carried his Winchester and Lupara despite an offer from the Mormons of an assault rifle from their armory. The cowboy acknowledged the greater firepower and range of the M16s, but he preferred to work with a tool that felt as familiar in his hands as his reins. Sofia still carried her Remington, but now she also carried an M4 carbine she had picked up from one of the agents in Crockett. She had trained with the M16, a similar weapon, when they had first arrived in Texas and had taken to training with the carbine for half an hour at the end of each day.
They crunched across a small patch of gravel, the remnants of an old walking track that wound through the clearing. Miguel could hear the sound of the cattle splashing through the mud and water at the edge of the lake as they took a late-night drink. At the other end of the clearing two dark silhouettes, Adam and Ben Randall, patrolled the far edge of the herd. The cattle dogs, Red and Blue, kept pace with Miguel as he walked.
'Papa,' she said quietly as they made their rounds of the herd.
'Yes, Princess,' said Miguel in a low voice. Part of him was listening to his daughter, but part of him was constantly alive to the possibility that danger might be nearby.
'The men who killed all those people back in that town…'
'The road agents, in Palestine.'
'Yes,' said Sofia. 'Do you think they are nearby?'
Miguel gave her shoulder a squeeze in the dark. 'I hope not,' he said. 'But I think not, too. I think they would have been on us by now if they were near.'
He could tell his daughter was not encouraged by the answer.
'We shall be fine,' he added for her benefit. 'If we are careful and vigilant, they will not surprise us as they did those settlers. And if they try, we shall give them the same treatment we gave those pirates when they attacked us on Miss Julianne's boat. You do remember that, don't you?'
'Of course, Papa. I was not a baby, you know. I even helped that day with the dressings and the ammunition.'
Miguel grunted as he gave her a pat on the back.
'Yes you did, little one,' he said. 'You were very brave. All of the family was.'
They both fell into a mournful silence then. Miguel pressed his lips together and shook his head as if in that gesture of denial he might somehow negate all that had happened. But, of course, there was no magic in the world. They simply trudged around the edge of the forest, occasionally squelching through a cowpat, unseen in the dark. Miguel felt Sofia's fingers reach out for and entwine with his.
'I miss Mama,' she said. 'And little Manny, and Abuela Ana, and…'
'I know, I know. I miss them all, too, every minute of every day, and while I sleep and when I wake. But I still have you, Sofia, and you I will not have taken from me.'
He stopped next to a small cluster of longhorns that lowed gently and moved away as soon as they saw the dogs. Miguel turned to his daughter and placed both hands on her shoulders. It was good to see her mourn, show some emotion over the loss of their family. For far too long she had been a stranger to him, cold, forbidding.
'I know that some days it is very hard to go on. Sometimes it seems pointless,' he said. 'But that is not what they would want, Sofia. Your mother especially; she would want me to get you safe away from here so that you might grow up and continue the family. In the end that is all that matters. Not me; my time is almost past-'
He felt her shoulders tense up under his hands but shushed her before she could protest.
'No, it is true. I am not old, not like some of your uncles were, but the family part of my life is over. It has been taken from me. But your life lies in front of you. We will endure this, Sofia. We will survive, and you will rebuild our family, and you will make sure that all of those Peiraros to come know of those who preceded them. That is what God has planned for you. For me… well, for now there is you to look after. And when I have you safe, then we shall settle our score with Blackstone and his men. That is what God means for me to do, Princesa.'
Leaves rustled in the evergreen trees, and branches creaked as a cold wind blew up from the south. Miguel resumed their round of the herd, opening his senses to the night again, listening for the telltale sounds of men nearby and not hearing them.
'Adam really likes Sally, doesn't he?' Sofia said without warning.
The vaquero was glad of the dark night that hid his smile.
'That is only natural,' he said. 'They have traveled together, and they are of the same people. I suspect hitting him with your rifle butt in Crockett did not improve your chances.'
Sofia laughed. 'Maybe, maybe not.'
Miguel searched for and quickly found the distant silhouettes of the Mormon boy and the giant engineer. They were on the far side of the clearing. He kept his voice down.
'It is good you make friends with Adam and the others,' said Miguel. 'We need each other out here. But our paths will part somewhere in the future. You should remember that, too.'
He was unsure what to say next. This was the sort of discussion Sofia would have had with her mother or grandmother not so long ago. Miguel would simply have stood in the background scowling and polishing his rifle to put the fear of God into any potential suitors. Now he found himself having to play a role for which he was entirely unsuited. When he thought of Sofia, the age she was, and all the changes that would come as she grew from a young girl into a young woman, he felt himself even more wretchedly alone than before. Perhaps one of the Mormon ladies could help with such things, at least for now, while they shared the trail.
Any further discomfort was forestalled by the return of Randall and young Adam. They cut across the clearing, a half-moon lighting their way. A few of the cattle protested at their passage, but mostly they moved aside. Ben Randall was a massive shape in the dark. He towered over his smaller companion, cursing softly and muttering as he tripped on an unseen obstacle. Of all the Mormons, he was the most likely in Miguel's experience to cuss like a normal person.
'Hey,' said Sofia.
'Hey,' Adam replied.
'We all good?' Randall asked.
Miguel scowled into the inky blackness of the forest that surrounded them. 'Good? No, I would not say that.'
Instantly, Randall seemed more alert, his back straighter, his presence more watchful. 'Why? You see something, hear something?'
'No, and that is the problem. I see and hear nothing, which might mean there is nothing to fear. But I do not like feeling my way through the dark like a blind man in a roomful of traps. I will not be happy until we know for sure where the men who killed the settlers have gone.'
The big man sighed, and his shoulders dropped a little.
'I'm with you on that,' he said. 'Ever since we buried those poor people, it's like I've been feeling someone's eyeballs staring at the back of my neck. Not a pleasant sensation, no, sir.'
They began a slow, careful walk to the northeast, following the path of one of the remnant trails that led off to the farmhouse a mile or two distant, where the rest of their companions had settled down for the night. It was a solid structure with good clear lines of fire all around. It would be easily defensible.
'We should have scouts,' Adam said, glancing meaningfully at Sofia.
