Wes.
‘‘We’re on our way.’’ He placed an arm at her waist and reached for the door. As the light wedged in from the hallway, Wes caught the image from a tintype. He stepped to the wall of portraits. Allie, her hair all curled over one shoulder, stared back at him. Same huge eyes, same uplifted chin. But the style of clothing was old, fifty years or more, when hooped skirts barred women from many doorways. And the setting behind showed century-old trees with moss hanging from them.
Allie tugged at his hand.
‘‘Are you sure you want to go?’’ He knew she’d noticed the tintype.
She nodded.
He couldn’t blame her. She’d been through enough. She didn’t need to fight for her family as well. It didn’t matter that she was the true granddaughter. What mattered was that she wasn’t accepted.
When they entered the hallway, Jason jumped back from where he’d obviously been trying to listen. He didn’t lower his gaze from Wes, silently challenging Wes to question his actions. The sounds of an argument were still coming from across the hallway.
Wes didn’t question. In truth, if he’d been the boy, he would have been doing the same thing. ‘‘Jason, run tell Gideon that I want our horses now,’’ Wes ordered. ‘‘We’re leaving.’’
‘‘All of us?’’ The boy was fighting down fear as he moved with Wes and Allie down the hallway.
‘‘All three of us,’’ Wes said. ‘‘Maxwell can take care of himself with those two.’’
Jason nodded and vanished. Wes walked slowly out of the house and across the yard to the barn with Allie at his side. By the time they’d reached the barn door, the horses were waiting and Jason was standing beside them with his bundle in hand.
Wes handed Jason the reins to the bay and swung onto his own mount. Then he offered his hand to Allie. ‘‘I’d be honored if you’d ride along with me, Allie.’’
His words said far more and, from the look in her eyes, she knew it. He wasn’t just offering to get her away from this place. He was offering her a place with him. And he was very politely asking as if she had a hundred other options and might take any one.
Allie locked her hand at his elbow, and he pulled her up behind him.
‘‘Let’s ride, son.’’ Wes kicked his horse into action. ‘‘There’s nothing for any of us here.’’
As they rode through the open gate, the servants lined the wall. When Allie passed, the men removed their hats and the women curtsied. They knew, Wes thought, even if Victoria was too blind to see, or to believe.
FIFTEEN
JUST BEFORE NIGHTFALL, WES AND HIS SMALL BANDreached a little town deep in the hill country called New Braunfels. They were traveling farther south, where winter didn’t settle so harshly across the land. This area of Texas was thick with German settlements, New Braunfels being one of the first. Though many of the Germans had settled the land two generations ago, in the 1830s, they’d kept to themselves with hard-working ways and little interest in learning English. Their love for the new land seemed great, but old ways clung to them like comfortable clothes.
Wes rode silently through the sleepy little town. Unlike many settlements its size, New Braunfels was clean, with wide streets and spotless storefronts. The churches, schools, and barbershops were already here.
As they reached the far end of town and headed out, Wes turned and whispered to Allie, ‘‘I know a place we can stay tonight since you hate hotels.’’
She nodded and eased her grip around his waist.
Wes patted her arm, understanding her if not her reasons. ‘‘During the war, there were many families in Texas loyal to the Union.’’ He’d also noticed she seemed to relax when he talked, so he started his story in a low voice. ‘‘Most didn’t say much about it, just went about their business. But one farmer, whose place was not far from town, let his feelings be known when Texas left the Union. One night, late into the war when most everyone had lost a son or father to the fighting, a band of men descended on his place. As folks tell the story, the farmer and his sons had just sat down to supper and met the mob without a single gun in hand.’’
Wes paused, picking his way down an overgrown road no one traveled. ‘‘The band demanded the farmer and his sons come outside. Then in front of the women and children, they hanged the men from the barn rafters. As they rode off, they set fire to the barn.
‘‘No one did anything about the crime. The farmer’s youngest son to die was thirteen. Folks didn’t talk about it much at the time, some probably from fear, some from guilt. It was just something that happened in war, and there was nothing to be done.’’
Allie leaned her cheek against Wes’s back. While she’d been living alone in her cave all those years, the world must have gone mad. She wished she could go back to her hideaway. People made no sense.
Wes turned toward the sunset. Along the outline of gold, she could see the remains of an old, burned barn beside an abandoned farmhouse.
‘‘The farmer’s wife took her youngest children and her widowed daughters-in-law and left here. No one wants to buy the place. Not after what happened. But we can stay the night there.’’
He headed toward the house. The grassland had almost reclaimed the road, and ivy lapped over the fences. ‘‘The locals are half afraid of this place. They say it’s haunted. But if it is, I don’t figure the ghost will bother us.’’ He turned to wink at her. ‘‘After all, they were Northern sympathizers.’’
Allie didn’t join in his mirth. She felt like she was trespassing on a burial ground and the spirits would not be pleased. She could almost hear them whispering in the evening breeze, telling her to leave, pushing her from their home, warning her.
Wes helped her down from the saddle and headed into the house with their supplies over one shoulder.
‘‘Wait,’’ Allie called after him. ‘‘I’ll not stay in their home.’’
He turned around and walked back to the edge of a crumbling porch. ‘‘It’s safe enough. I’ll light a fire and chase any critters out.’’
‘‘No.’’ Allie stood her ground. ‘‘I’ll not go in.’’ ‘‘
‘Me, neither.’’ Jason slid from his horse. ‘‘If Allie ain’t going in, I’m not going in.’’
Wes glanced skyward. How was it possible for his near mute wife to pick up an echo? After four years in the Army, leading men, and two years of pushing cattle to market, it took Allie to make Wes realize that a leader wasn’t a leader unless he had a follower.
‘‘All right, where would you like to sleep tonight?’’ She was developing a habit of being particular about where she slept.
Allie didn’t answer, she just turned toward the skeleton of the barn. In one corner, near a charred wall several feet high, a willow had grown. Maybe it had been a sapling when the tragedy happened. Maybe it had sprung from the fertile soil of the ashes, but it stood tall and proud now. The charred wall protected it from the north wind, and the morning sun warmed it. The long, thin branches were almost touching the ground.
She spread her blanket beneath the low limbs of the willow.
Wes stepped off the porch beside Jason. ‘‘Looks like we’re sleeping beneath the tree. Want to help me with the horses before we settle in for the night?’’
‘‘Sure.’’ Jason patted the bay as though they were old and dear friends. ‘‘Has this horse got a name?’’
‘‘Not that I know of.’’ Wes grinned as he removed the saddle and left it beneath the tree. ‘‘My dad used to say a horse shouldn’t have a name until it belongs to one man for good. Since it looks like he’s your horse, I figure you should name him.’’
Jason followed Wes’s actions, needing only a little help lifting the saddle down. ‘‘He ain’t my horse, mister.’’
‘‘He is now.’’ Wes started toward a stream behind the house. ‘‘You’ll earn him by helping me take care of Allie. And I can tell by the way he responds to your lead that the two of you are made for one another.’’
Jason walked several feet before he answered. ‘‘I’ll name him when I earn him,’’ the boy said with a single nod.
A half hour later, Wes returned. He had staked the horses and taken the time to shave by the water. Jason had
