A Fire in the Blood (45 page)

      
The flat, desolate desert country they had traveled through gave way to increasingly lush vegetation, sparkling creeks, and awe-inspiring mountains as they entered the Big Bend country. It was incredibly isolated and wild. Tate had warned her it was filled with outlaws and all sorts of desperate men and dangerous animals, but it was also breathtakingly beautiful.

      
She guessed that Jess had selected the land for its very remoteness from the civilization that had dealt so cruelly with him and his family. "I will make this my home. I don't care if the Double R ranch house is a
paisano’s jacal
," she murmured, gazing out the window at the passing scenery.

      
When they reached Terlingua, Tate purchased a rickety old wagon and a team from the small livery. Everyone stared at the fire-haired
gringa
who carried a mixed-blood baby and traveled with a black Americano, yet their curiosity seemed more awe-filled and friendly than hostile. The ranch of the Robbins brothers was only a few hours away. They should arrive well before dark—a good thing since Terlingua's only accommodations were the rooms the
putas
used above the dirty cantina on the square.

      
When Lissa finally pulled the rented wagon up in front of Jess's house, she had a fleeting second thought. Tate put the cawy in the small corral while she climbed down from the seat with a squirming Johnny in her arms and inspected her new home. The land was excellent graze, with a fresh-running stream and thick grass, hidden away in an isolated mountain valley. The cattle they had seen along the way were plentiful and fat, not the scrawny longhorns of the panhandle country, but meaty Herefords, obviously expensive breeding stock.

      
She scanned the scene, then returned her attention to the house. It was little more than a log cabin, flat and squat, with only two small windows visible from the front. The area around it, with the exception of one live oak, was starkly denuded of anything resembling vegetation. Dust blew across the front yard and piled in a fine silt against the heavy door, which was inhospitably closed.

      
"Sure does look deserted," Tate said uncertainly when he walked up from the corral. He had never been to Jess's place before, but had feared the worst from what his friend had told him.

      
Lissa set Johnny down on the bare brown dirt and commanded Cormac to watch the toddling boy, a duty the hound took very seriously. She walked around the side of the building, which was about twenty feet across. "I imagine his brother is off somewhere working stock for the day," she said to Tate as she inspected the bleak little single-story cubicle.

      
"Well, it is .. . sturdy," she said as she completed her circle of the building. Tate merely grunted.

      
The back had two additional windows, and each side had one, all covered with oiled paper in lieu of window glass. The front and back doors were made of heavy pine planks. She eyed the creek that curved within a stone's throw of the house. "Why in heaven's name, with such a good water supply didn't they at least plant a vegetable garden . . .or something?"

      
Tate shuffled uncomfortably. "Most men livin' alone, they don't think much about vegetables."

      
She could have sworn he was blushing beneath his ebony skin. Lissa harumphed in disgust. "They must've cut down every tree around to build the damn cabin. Well, let's see what the inside is like. I have a feeling I'll need to set to work right off." She scooped up the baby and dismissed Cormac, who trotted down to the stream for a drink.

      
Lissa lifted the heavy iron latch on the front door, and it creaked in protest as it opened. Blinking her eyes, she adjusted to the dim light inside. The main room was a combination of kitchen and living quarters, with a big stone fireplace on the east wall. The floor was planked, not dirt, thank heaven, but it was splintery and bare, coated liberally with the fine yellow dust that blew outside.

      
Furniture was rudimentary—a serviceable table with four chairs, an old and somewhat better-crafted pie pantry, which she suspected had been in the family for a while, and a wash-stand with a chipped pitcher and basin atop it.

      
Two doors led off the main room. She glanced in each. They were similar, both possessing large beds and a single chair. One bed was rumpled, with dirty clothes strewn about it. Several pictures sat on a small chest. The other was austerely bare, the covers smoothed carelessly across the rough mattress.
Jess's room
. He had obviously not been home to sleep in it for some time.

      
Lissa walked into Jonah's room and picked up an old photograph. The faded picture was of a tall, fair-haired man standing proudly beside a diminutive dark young woman. In front of them were two boys, the taller perhaps seven or eight years old and the small one little older than Johnny. Jess's fierce eyes stared at the camera from a hostile, closed face. His coloring was obviously inherited from his mother, even though the beautifully chiseled features bore a decided resemblance to the handsome man. Little Jonah was blond and fair-complected.
He's the white Robbins
.

      
Trembling, she replaced the picture just as the sound of a gun being cocked was followed by a deadly command.

      
"Drop your gun on the floor, stranger. Real slow."

      
Tate did as he was bidden by the yellow-haired youth with the 44-40 Winchester leveled at his gut. "You must be Jonah. Jess said you was the spittin' image of yer pa."

      
"Please, we didn't mean to intrude." Lissa stood in the doorway, embarrassed to be caught going through her young brother-in-law's bedroom. "But no one was home, and we've come such a long way."

      
Jonah Robbins quickly uncocked the rifle and set it against the wall, his face a study in youthful amazement as his gray eyes moved guilelessly from her to the dark child in her arms. "You . . . you must be my brother's wife and son."

      
He stared at Johnny with such awe that Lissa smiled.

      
"I never thought I'd be an uncle one day—and then—" His face reddened, and he cleared his throat. "Well, I never thought I'd ever get to see him."

      
"His name is John Jesse Robbins. Johnny," Lissa replied, carrying her son over to where Jonah stood. "You're his only uncle, Jonah."

      
"You're Lissa," he said, as if he could not believe it.

      
"And this is Tate Shannon, an old friend and partner of Jess's, who was kind enough to come with us."

      
Jonah offered his hand to the gunman. "I've heard Jess speak of you. Welcome to the Double R." He looked from Tate back to Lissa, uncertain of what to do next.

      
"I'll unload everything, then take the horses and wagon down to your stable and unhitch 'em. You folks got family things to talk about," Tate said and quickly left the cabin.

      
The youth's bright yellow hair and lighter skin were in decided contrast to Jess, but both brothers had obviously inherited their features from John Robbins. She handed the boy to him, and he took Johnny awkwardly.

      
"I never held a youngun' before," he said nervously. "Howdy, Johnny."

      
"He's become quite a good traveler since we left Wyoming," Lissa said, waiting for Jonah's reaction.

      
He looked at her uncertainly. "Jess never talked much about gettin' married, but I kind of read between the lines about what he didn't say." His face colored with a red flush.

      
"He didn't want to marry me—wouldn't have except for Johnny," she replied softly. "Then he left us . . . for our own good. People in Wyoming didn't approve of my marrying a man with Jess's reputation," she added bitterly.

      
"Yeh, a hired killer with a big reputation. But more than that, he's a breed and a greaser to boot." Jonah's youthful face suddenly looked harsh and old beyond his years. "I reckon you're right. He just wanted to protect you."

      
"I had more than a little part in my own downfall. No one could blame it all on Jess," she said candidly, meeting his troubled gray eyes. "He wanted me to go East, where I could pose as a respectable widow and pass Johnny for white."

      
"But you decided to come here instead," he said, a slow smile beginning to creep across his face.

      
Relief washed over her. She had an ally. "Yes, I did. I love your brother, and I don't want his son to grow up without him. Have you heard from him lately?" she asked worriedly.

      
"Not for several months—but that's not unusual," he hastened to add. "He's up in Indian Territory, chasing some pack of outlaws with big bounties on them. We need the money. We've been working real hard on improving our breeding stock, even selling some horses to the Army up at Fort Seaton."

      
"You must've noticed the cawy we brought. When I sold J Bar, I kept a few of the best saddle horses."

      
"Yes, real beauties," Jonah said excitedly. Then her words registered. "You
sold
that huge ranch?"

      
She faced him determinedly. "It would always have stood between Jess and me. I put the money in trust for Johnny when he grows up, and no one can touch it until then." She smiled nervously and shrugged. "So I guess you and Jess are sort of stuck with us."

      
He looked at her in amazement, then threw back his head and laughed. "Lissa, you are something!" His eyes danced. "Really burned your bridges good. Jess'll have a real Injun fit."

      
"Yes, I imagine he will."

      
Johnny began to squirm, wanting to get down to explore. Lissa took him from Jonah and set him on the floor. Immediately he raised a chubby hand from the dusty plank. It was blackened with dirt.

      
"I think a woman's touch is long overdue here. Do you have a scrub bucket or rag mop?" she asked, once more eyeing the bleak little cabin.

      
He reddened. "Got a bucket, but no mop. I reckon I kind of let the house go, there's so much outdoor work to do."

      
"Tate will help you with that, if you'd be willing to take him on. He's done with guns."
If only Jess will do the same now.

      
"I'd be real glad of the help, but we can't pay much."

      
"He'll work for food and shelter until the place starts showing a profit." At Jonah's relieved look, she smiled. "Why don't you go take a closer look at those horses while I unpack our things and see about a bit of straightening up before I start dinner."

      
"You can cook?" The joyous expression on his face was amusing, but at the same time touching. Had Jess ever been this open and guileless? Somehow she doubted it.

      
Just as Jonah stepped out the door, Cormac picked that moment to return from his foray down at the creek. "Jeezus! I knew you brought horses, but I never saw one built like this!"

The wolfhound cocked his head to one side, sniffing undecidedly as Jonah stood frozen against the door sash.

      
Lissa chuckled. "This is Cormac. He's an Irish wolfhound. They use them to kill timber wolves and coyotes up in Wyoming."

      
"I believe it," Jonah replied, still plastered to the door. "I'd bet on him against a pair of grizzlies!"

      
Cormac gave another sniff and then, to Jonah's horror, rose on his hind legs and planted his enormous forepaws on the young man's broad shoulders, giving him a generous slurp across the face.

      
"He likes you. It took him a moment to recognize the scent, but you must smell like Jess to him. Odd, he usually doesn't take to strangers at all, but he acted the same way the first time he met your brother. And Jess reacted just like you have," she added, laughing.

      
When Cormac dropped his front paws back to the porch, Jonah began to relax and gingerly stroked the dog's ears. The wolfhound's tail wagged so hard the floorboards vibrated. "He really could be a help with varmint control around here."

      
"He's also a good nanny," she said, as she picked up her filthy little boy. Until she did some work around here, Johnny would stay cleaner if he played outside in the dirt!

* * * *

      
The following months saw some dramatic changes at the Double R ranch. Lissa quickly scrubbed up the small cabin and unpacked such amenities as table linens, a variety of cook pots, a set of crockery dishes, most of which had miraculously survived the bouncy ride from Wyoming, and a bolt of brightly checked yellow cotton, which she stitched into window curtains.
 

      
She had Tate and Jonah build doors for the two bedrooms, and once the latest bunch of horses was sold at the fort, they promised to begin felling timber to build an addition onto the cabin. The flowers she had planted around the house and the vegetable garden in the back were coming up nicely.

      
Getting used to the far more humid heat of West Texas was Lissa's biggest adaptation, but as the weeks sped by, even that paled in comparison to her fears for Jess, who had not written Jonah since riding into the deadly no-man's-land known as the Nations.

      
Her fears were kept at bay by her young brother- in-law, who had been forced to accept Jess's dangerous occupation over the years. She and Jonah grew as close as sister and brother during that long summer.