Texan's Touch

“What things?”

“Things it wouldn’t be proper for a man to tell a woman he’s thinking even if they’re on his mind.” Tyler said the words slowly as if they made sense.

“But we’ve been friends for three years. I’ve heard you talk about everything. I heard all about that night you left the camp and went into Cortland last year.”

Tyler slapped the horses into action. “That wasn’t something you should have heard. A woman shouldn’t oughta hear about another woman.”

“I don’t need another brother telling me what to do!” Nichole snapped. “Give me the reins. Suddenly, I’m in a hurry to be rid of the lot of you.”

Tyler resisted for a second, then gave her the reins. In truth, they both knew she could drive a team better than him, but she sensed her action hurt his pride. He was right about one thing. It would never be the same between them now that he’d seen her in a dress.

When they arrived at the station, the train was already loading. Several groups stood saying good-bye as soldiers stood at attention near the center of the platform.

“Now, act like a lady, damn it!” he whispered as he forced her to allow him to help her down. “All you got to do is get on this train, and you’ll be safe in two hours.”

Nichole’s fingers dug into his arm as he walked her down the platform. She shortened her steps, making moving in the dress easier.

She thought briefly of breaking away and running back to Wolf. If she raised enough ruckus, he’d allow her to stay. She knew he would. The only thing that kept her going along with this plan was the possibility that he might just be right. Wolf had a quick sense about danger, and if she was captured with the others, it could go badly for her. They might hang the men, but Wolf said they’d send her to one of those women’s prisons. She’d die if she were locked up.

Tyler handed her the ticket. “Wolf said you’ll catch a stage tomorrow night. He wired a Doc Wilson in Corydon and received word that the McLains are in Fort Worth, or at least they were a month ago.” Tyler looked worried. “You sure about these Yanks, Nick? I wish there were somewhere else to send you. I don’t like the idea of sending you to folks we don’t know.”

Nick thought of hitting him hard on the side of his head. He’d caught Wolf’s illness of being overprotective. Only the knowledge that one of the soldiers was watching kept her hand lowered.

“They’re good men,” Nichole reassured Tyler, who was now back into the big-brother role again.

“Nick… Nichole.” Tyler moved his hand slowly down her arm. Something he’d never done. “When this trouble is over, I plan to come with Wolf to fetch you. If these McLains mistreat you, they’ll answer to me.”

“You do whatever you like.” Nichole pulled away. “But if any man mistreats me, he’ll answer to me.”

She looked up into Tyler’s gaze and knew he was about to kiss her. Without hesitation, she turned and stepped onto the train as it shifted and moved. She offered him her hand. “Take care, Tyler.”

“Take care,” he answered as her hand slipped from his grip.

Nichole took the last seat in the car and watched Tyler disappear into the night. He’d been a good man and a good friend. He’d never hurt for the sake of hurting, or killed for the fun of it. Tyler had never been unfair or dishonest. He wasn’t more than five years older than her and she had always thought of him as handsome.

So why hadn’t she let him kiss her good-bye? She thought about it until she fell asleep and still couldn’t come up with an answer. She had no one. The only man she’d allowed close to her was married by now. But even if he were single, they were worlds apart.

At Memphis, she switched to the Butterfield Stage Line and grew more exhausted by the hour. The trip was dusty and hard during the day, and by night she was housed with the women and crying babies. Nichole wanted to ask to sleep outside with the men, but didn’t dare.

The only thing she found enjoyable about the trip was the surprisingly warm friendships she made with the women. People thrown together for hours looked for anything to help pass the time, and there was something about a stranger you’d never meet again that made conversation easy.

The women talked of their lives during the war, making Nichole realize for the first time the men weren’t the only ones who had paid a price. Their natural mothering instinct seemed to want to take her under their wing. Wives told Nichole of their future and the widows talked of the past.

One night, near Fort Smith, Nichole told a small circle of women that her mother had died and there were so many questions she wished she’d asked her about being a woman. The group seemed to take up the cause of telling her all kinds of bits of wisdom mothers pass on to daughters.

When she changed stages in Dallas leaving the other passengers heading south while she headed west, Nichole was sad to part. She felt she’d grown from the chance encounters and that somehow she was a little more of a lady.

The last leg of her trip was silent. She sat back alone in the coach and watched the scenery rolling by. The only other passenger had asked to ride up top and was probably swapping stories with the driver and man riding shotgun. She’d heard him say he was only going a few miles to his farm.

The land wasn’t as pretty as Kentucky. There was a wildness about the very air here. She’d felt it since Fort Smith. There were streams laced across the land near Dallas, but not an overabundance of trees.

Just as she found a comfortable position and was almost asleep, the stage rocked violently, throwing her against the windows, then forward into the empty seats.

Nichole swore and tried to straighten her clothing as the driver pulled to a stop.

“Sorry, miss. You all right in there?” he yelled.

“Yes.” Nichole balanced herself enough to open the door. “What happened?”

“Nothing much. Just a problem with the wheel. Me and Amos will have it fixed in a blink.”

Nichole looked at the man riding shotgun and guessed that unless he was far stronger than he looked, the driver had his work cut out for him. If she’d been in her normal clothes she would have offered to help, but one thing she’d learned in these days of travel was that men didn’t appreciate help from a woman no matter how much they needed it. The man who’d been riding up top was gone and Nichole guessed he must have climbed off when they stopped a while back.

Looking around, she noticed the road followed a creek. Along the water’s curves were clusters of elm and cottonwood and spruce. The grass was tall near the water and littered with branches from times past when the creek thought itself a mighty river for a few hours. The shelter of aging cottonwoods a hundred yards away lured her.

“I’ll be by the stream,” she said as she lifted her carpetbag and headed down the incline. “Just call when you’re ready to leave, or if you need any help.”

“You just rest yourself, miss. We can handle this!” the driver yelled from the boot of the coach.

Nichole lifted her skirts several inches off the ground and disappeared into the trees. She was careful to walk on the balls of her feet, leaving little trail to follow even though there was no reason for her to do so now.

After days of being around people, she needed to be alone. Leaving the natural path to the stream, she walked as Wolf had taught her to, without disturbing nature. After several feet she crawled beneath low branches and found what she’d hoped to find, a cool, shadowy cave made from brush and branches. The floor of her find was covered in dried winter leaves. Once she was settled, even a squirrel entering her cave would make a racket.

Spreading her jacket as a pallet, Nichole used her carpetbag as a pillow and her warm wool man’s jacket as her blanket. Within minutes she was soundly asleep for the first time in days. For the first time since she’d left Tennessee she felt at home.

The wind blew, ruffling the branches above her, and the stream rippled over a thousand tiny rocks only a few feet away. Birds, excited with early spring, returned to the tree above.

Nature muffled the screams of Amos and the driver as they battled and died. In her mind, the cries were only a faraway nightmare no longer strong enough to wake her. In her mind, she was alone and safe.

ELEVEN