River to Cross, A (22 page)

“I’m not upset anymore.” To her chagrin, her voice cracked with strain. She swallowed and forced it under control. “You saved my life tonight, and I’m at a loss how to thank you for that. I’m trying to handle it.” She took a deep breath. “I think I’m all right now.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m a mess inside. I didn’t want you hurt.” Gus pried her twisted hands apart and wound his fingers through hers. “What’s this?” He pulled a cheap beaded chain from her fingers.

“I don’t know. I was holding it when you pulled me away.”

He dropped it into his shirt pocket. “It’s a chain of some kind. We’ll check it out in the light when we get to your house.”

Needing to touch him, she gripped his hand in grateful response, then placed her free hand on top of his. She didn’t say a word the rest of the way back to the post, just held tight to his big, rough hand with both of hers.

Gus took Suzanne home, while Jake did the same with Elizabeth.

Five minutes after she and Gus walked into her father’s house, Suzanne had Gus sitting at her kitchen table, cleaning him up, checking several wounds where the knife had cut him.

Her mother had peeled off his bloody shirt and put it to soak in a pan of soapy water. Leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, her father, Major Peterson, watched silently.

Gus pulled the chain from his pocket. He’d already examined it. “Major,” he said, pushing the chain across the tabletop to her father, “do you recognize this?”

Major Peterson held it up to the light and read the metal tag attached to the chain.
Campo Militar No. 13, Chihuahua
. His mouth tightened. “I recognize it, and so do you, Sergeant. It’s Mexican military. Some wear them, some don’t. No name, of course. They only put a unit number on the tag.” He handed the chain back to Gus. “Colonel Gordon will be most interested. Keep me posted, please. And thank you for protecting our Suzanne tonight.”

They chatted for a few minutes longer, and then Suzanne’s mother went with her husband to another part of the house.

Gus, his arm outstretched on the tabletop, watched Suzanne, dark eyes wary, tinged with the hardness that Rangers acquired to do what they did. He had a straight Roman nose and a dominant jaw, shadowed and strong.

Though beads of sweat stood out on his forehead as she worked, he made no sound as she cleaned and swabbed the punctures, which she knew were like raw meat inside. Only the involuntary shutting of his eyes revealed when she hurt him. Beneath the desert tan, the skin of his forearm was turning a black and purple color almost as she watched.

She laid the gauze aside and looked up at him. “Let me run you over to the hospital. They can numb your arm for this. At least you won’t feel the pain.”

“You’re doing fine. Doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Gus, I know better.”

He spread a hand over his mouth and wiped his lips. “Just finish and get it over with.”

Around midnight, she offered to have a soldier take him home. While the spoonful of laudanum she’d given him had taken the edge off the pain, the way he held his arm against his chest told her it still ached. Being a nurse, she refused to give him any more tonight. Fatigue rimmed his eyes with traces of red.

“You need to get some rest,” Suzanne said.

He nodded. “You’re right. I am tired.” Gus turned from the window, where he’d been checking the front yard for intruders again, and sat down on the couch. Yawning, he kicked off his boots and stretched out.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, insisting she wasn’t upset from the fight anymore. In the middle of her explanation why he should go home, he rolled over and, as if he’d thrown a switch inside his head, fell fast asleep.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. She’d heard Texas Rangers could do that—could go to sleep on command. Until that night, she didn’t believe it.

Now what? Hands on her hips, she stood by the couch in her living room. Her gaze rested on the wide tan shoulders, the thick arms. He was in the prime of manhood, strong, healthy. Most women would call him handsome, if you liked the muscled, macho type. A small sigh slipped out. He didn’t know it, but she liked
this
one. Very much.

She spread a blanket over him and tucked it around his bare shoulders. “I was so scared,” she whispered. “Thank you for not listening to me. I’m glad you’re here. My folks want you to come to dinner tomorrow night.” Softly so as not to wake him, she stroked his cheek. “So do I.”

She turned off the light and went upstairs to bed.

In the dark, Gus smiled.

Campo Militar No. 13
Chihuahua, Mexico

Diego looked up from the report
on his desk, his face angry. “Apparently, if I want a hostage, I’ll have to do it myself. Otherwise, mistakes happen. This time, Major, I’m going with you.”

“Do you think that’s wise, sir?” Major Chavez asked.

Diego pushed himself out of his chair and stared at Chavez. “Probably not, but what’s the alternative? Texas Rangers got her away from you in Mexico, and last week the Arroyos themselves backed off from confronting the Rangers. If we plan it right, we can be across the river, grab Elizabeth Evans, and be back in Mexico with her before anyone knows she’s gone. I estimate from start to finish, it will take three hours.”

El Paso, Texas

“Giddy-yap!” Ruthie called to the horse as she bounced around on Jake’s lap.

Elizabeth smiled when he slapped the reins and said sternly to the horse, “You heard the little lady.”

As usual, Jake was within reaching distance. Until things quieted down across the border, her father wanted her accompanied wherever she went, and Colonel Gordon had agreed.

During the day, Jake—if he was free, or a soldier from Fort Bliss if he wasn’t—escorted her wherever she needed to go and dropped her off. For the next few months, she was never to be out in public without security.

Ruthie lifted her face and gave Jake a loud, damp kiss on the cheek.

He laughed. “Why don’t you teach your aunt to do that?”

The buggy moved away from Elizabeth’s quarters and headed past the well-groomed flower beds for the road through the post. Once through the main gate, it was an easy three miles to El Paso.

Ruthie sat on Jake’s lap, holding his hands with the reins and pretending she was driving the horse herself. Elizabeth spent as much time with her as possible, and so did Jake.

That afternoon, Elizabeth was going into the newspaper office to say hello to everyone and see what she could do to help. She didn’t know many people in town yet, but a few neighbors recognized her in the buggy and called to her. Pleased, she waved back. Jake pulled over and let her out to talk to two women.

When she climbed in again, he drove back out into the street. She smiled at him. “That was thoughtful. Thanks. I hardly know anyone yet.”

“You’ve got a lot ahead of you,” he said.

On the wooden sidewalk outside the newspaper office, she held Ruthie’s hand and read the sign running across the building:
the grande examiner
. Sadness welled up that Lloyd wasn’t here to see it with her. Jake, watching her, said nothing, though he moved closer.

“I’ll never be able to take his place,” she said.

Jake took her hand. “I think he’d tell you not to try.” He was quiet for several moments and then spoke hesitantly, as though he had to pull the words out.

“You haven’t talked about it, but I don’t think he’d want you and Ruthie decked out in black because something happened to him. We talked once about it—he called it morbid. He told me how your father dressed you and him in black after your mother died, and he said your father wept every time he did it. You were six years old.”

Jake let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry if I’m saying something you don’t want to hear. It’s just that since he felt strongly about it, I thought you should know.”

“And you?” she asked. “How do you feel?”

“I think grief is private. How you handle it is your decision.”

Elizabeth straightened. “I’ve heard my father make reference to it, but he was a young congressman then in Washington, which has a rigid society. He had to conform or he’d have found himself an outcast. That’s not the case out here. We’re on the frontier, and that eases a lot of the restrictions. I didn’t realize Lloyd felt the same.”

The sadness left as she stepped through the door. Two of the writers jumped to their feet. “Here’s our celebrity back from Mexico. We’re so glad you’re back,” Ezra Stuart said, a balding man with glasses.

When she started to introduce Jake, Ezra grabbed his hand and shook it. “We all know Jake. Lloyd brought him in several times.”

Ezra introduced her to two workers she hadn’t met before. One of them asked, “What can we do to help you get started?”

Elizabeth threw her hands out. “Everything.”

She greeted each of them, trying to learn a bit about them, and who did what at the newspaper.

“I’ve been thinking and need your input on a lot of things. How about El Paso schools? There’s only one and it’s not open all the time. How about we campaign for more public schools for the children? We have ten thousand people now and desperately need more schools.”

She looked up, shaking her head. “And law enforcement. In the last eight months, I understand we’ve had six sheriffs. That’s a serious problem. Our police department needs more structure and tighter rules. And more officers.”

Ezra Stuart stared at her and clapped his hands. “Welcome home, and thank you, Elizabeth Madison Evans. You are certainly your brother’s sister.”

A rush of embarrassment warmed her cheeks. “I have a lot to learn, so you’ll have to lead me like a little child. Lloyd always talked about efficiency and saving the reporters’ time. I probably don’t know how to do that yet, but we can get someone in here who does. We want the
Grande Examiner
to be the best newspaper in West Texas!”

Everyone cheered and clapped their hands.

Ruthie did the same, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. Jake smiled, shook his head, and took her next door for ice cream.

Elizabeth followed Ezra through the long narrow room and into a small corner office with glass sides reaching halfway to the ceiling. Lloyd’s office. Her office now, she reminded herself.

It was also their telegraph office. When the key started clicking, receiving a message, a buzzer went off in the main office. This was how they got the latest news from other parts of the country.

A counter ran the length of one wall. On it sat typewriters and a typesetting machine, with a printing press set up at its end. A large table with rollers and heavy mats had been placed in the center of the room.

Elizabeth grinned when a telephone jangled two short and one long ring. Lloyd, open to new inventions, had insisted on telephones as soon as they were available. She saw several in the office. He didn’t want his reporters having to chase down some fact in a story that could be verified by telephone. As a result, the stories in the
Examiner
came together quicker.

Before she finished at the newspaper office, she called everyone together and asked them for suggestions on an edition about Mexico—everything from political instability and the threats of General Diego to forging better relations between Juarez on one side of the Rio Grande and El Paso on the other.

“What would you think if we hired a Mexican reporter from Juarez?” she asked.

The surprised stares on the men’s faces changed to approval and chuckles.

Ezra rubbed his hands together. “How about a column in the
Examiner
inviting applications?”

“Perfect, Ezra. Let’s do that. And when the time comes to choose, we will decide together,” she said.

“You know, I was worried about the paper with Lloyd gone,” Ezra said. “I’m not anymore. We’re going to be just fine.”

“Shhh, stop kicking me,” a deep voice said in the outer office. “Your aunt is busy now. She’ll be out in a minute.”

“Aunt ’Lithabeth, Aunt ’Lithabeth, I want in there with you. Make him put me down!” Ruthie called.

Elizabeth laughed and stood up. “Gentlemen, I must go for now. I think one Texas Ranger has finally met his match.”