River to Cross, A (6 page)

Fred shot a look at Gus and then shoved to his feet. He stuck out his hand and pulled Gus up. “How ’bout we go spread out the blankets and unroll the bed sacks?”

Jake had wondered when she’d get around to asking that. He waited until Gus and Fred and their lantern glow disappeared around a corner, then said, “I wish we could go back right away, but that’s not likely to happen. With any luck, we may be able to go back next week.”

She stiffened. “Next week? Why next week? I need to go home now. I’ve got a little niece with no family and I’m frantic about her.”

“Right now, I expect Ruthie is safer than she’ll ever be in her life again. I took her to Fort Bliss with me when we left your house. At your father’s request, she’s staying with Colonel Gordon and his family until he gets there. She has other children to play with and a twenty-four-hour guard.”

“Guard? You think she’s still in danger?”

“I’m not sure. Your housekeeper told one of my men that the Mexicans wanted to take her with them, but the major overruled it.” He threw another piece of wood on the fire. Damp, it smoked for a minute, then popped and sent a burst of sparks flying upward. “A revolt against President Hector Guevara is brewing in Mexico.”

“I know. Lloyd recognized Major Chavez in the courthouse. He said Diego is the brains behind the revolt.”

“He’s probably right, but the U.S. needs that confirmed absolutely. That’s what Fred and Gus and I hope we can find out. Nobody wants another war with Mexico.”

“So, Gus and Fred are in on this as well?”

Jake nodded. “We’re all part of an operation.” He sighed and stood up. “I’m going to leave you with friends of mine about twenty miles from here. You’ll like his wife. She’s half Aztec and teaches English at a monastery. They’re good people.”

“Which is why you chose this cave,” she said.

“And why—for your own safety and theirs—I didn’t tell you before.”

He also didn’t tell her that his friend was a former Ranger he’d served with. He and Ricardo Romero had saved each other’s lives several times. Jake considered Ricardo the brother he never had. He saw the Romeros a couple of times a year, on official trips or “unofficial” business, like now.

“You’ll be at their house three or four days until I learn if Diego was involved or not. Then I’ll come get you and take you home.”

Her chin lifted. “And what if something happens to you?”

“My friend knows what to do. He’ll take you across the Rio Grande to the nearest Ranger river patrol in Texas. He’ll get you to them, and the Rangers will take you to Fort Bliss.” His mouth was tight and serious. “Know this: You will be in no more danger with him than with me. I’d trust Ricardo with my life.”

He’d taken his hat off and dropped it to one side. In the firelight, the hair falling over his forehead had a reddish cast to it.

White-faced, Elizabeth stood. Lips trembling, she said, “I see. It’s all arranged. Why didn’t you trust me? I would have helped you any way I could. You see me as a woman with nothing to contribute except needlepoint and children. Well, Captain, I have a degree to go along with my needlework. I am not a silly socialite. I was raised with politics and confidentiality and the consequences of war. Patriotism is not the exclusive domain of males. Like you—and Lloyd—I also love my country. When I get back to Texas, I’m going to run his newspaper.”

She turned and walked away from the fire, toward the cave wall where their blankets were spread.

Jake threw his hand out. “Elizabeth, I’m sorry. Wait . . .”

She waved him off without answering. He heard a little choking sound as she disappeared into the darkness.

He pulled in a slow breath. Guilt flashed through his mind. She was about to cry.

Half an hour later, Jake grabbed a lantern and climbed to his feet. “I’m going to check the horses.” Without waiting for a reply, he started for the back of the cave. The lantern’s swinging light threw his shadow, huge and dark, onto the cave wall alongside.

Gus reached into his jacket and pulled out a flask of whiskey. “How many times he gonna check? That’s the third time he went down there.”

Fred held out his cup so Gus could pour drinks for them both. “It’s not the horses he’s checking, you know. He passes the bed sacks on the way.” Gus sighed. “I hate to see him look like that. He’s miserable. Did you see the look on his face the first time he came back and said she was crying?”

“Yeah.” Fred picked up Jake’s empty cup. “Pour some of that in here to take his mind off her.”

Gus snorted quietly. “He won’t touch it. His old man was a drunk. Told me he left home at fifteen to get away from him. In all the years I’ve known Jake, I’ve never seen him take a drink.”

“Then hide it in his coffee,” Fred said. “He needs something tonight. And do it now—he’s coming back. I see his lantern.”

“Gotcha. Give me his cup.”

A few moments later, Gus asked, “Horses all right, Jake?”

“Yeah, they’re fine.”

“How’s our duchess doing? Still crying?”

“Yeah.”

“She’ll be all right tomorrow. Come on over here and have some coffee.”

Jake took the coffee and then sat and leaned his back against the cave wall. Staring at the fire, he sipped it and said, “Coffee tastes different—what is it?”

“Some of that Mexican coffee. Got it from their supplies. You like it?”

“Dunno. It’s kind of spicy.” But it wasn’t long before he’d drained the cup. He held it out for a refill. “You really think she’ll be all right tomorrow?”

Gus took the cup and turned around to the coffeepot and his flask, his back to Jake. “Sure. Women are like that. Get all stirred up about the littlest of things, and then it’s all over and they get on with their lives. While us poor guys stew for days.”

Fred pulled out a deck of cards. “How about a couple hands to take your mind off things?”

Elizabeth’s angry blue eyes floated across his mind, eyes fighting back tears.

“I’m in,” Jake said. Five minutes later, so was Elizabeth—still in his mind, settled in for the night apparently. He stared at his cards, trying to forget her.

She wasn’t his type, anyway. She was a senator’s daughter and spoiled rotten. He knew that the first time he saw her picture. Grimly he set his teeth together. Everything he did with her, he did all wrong. He’d become short-tempered, disorganized, and more than a little rough around the edges because he knew she didn’t like it. And yet he found one excuse after another to hang around her. It made no sense.

He dragged a hand down his face.

And if she hates you now, just wait till she finds out about you and her brother.

She was smart, he’d give her that. He always did like smart women. His mother taught him that. She was a schoolteacher in Greensburg, outside San Antonio. Too smart to have married Harvey, his stepfather, but she’d married him anyway.

Pregnant with Jake, his mother had wanted a name for her unborn child. She wanted better for her baby, even if it meant a poor marriage for herself. Jake’s real father, a Deputy U.S. Marshal, had been killed two weeks before their wedding—shot in the back by a convicted bank robber.

A rush of sympathy tore through Jake for a towheaded little boy with hair in his eyes whose stepfather hated him. Every time he climbed onto his lap, Harvey set him down firmly on the floor, saying, “Stay offa me, kid.”

And Jake had cried.

His throat tightened now, remembering. He shook his head and forced the gloom away. This wasn’t like him at all. He frowned at his coffee.

The three men played cards for an hour, the other two laughing, having a good time. Normally a good player, Jake lost one hand after another. Time and again, someone refilled his coffee cup. Though he said little, he was glad they were there. Like most military men, he liked the bonding and camaraderie of fellow soldiers. Gus and Fred were ex-cavalry, too. Rangers, especially, looked after each other in ways other men never did. With another Ranger, you always knew where you stood.

Men were predictable.

Sometime around midnight, when he fanned his cards, Jake realized he couldn’t tell a club from a spade. Head whirling, he tossed them down. “Count me out. I’m so tired, I can’t see straight.”

He struggled to his feet and went weaving off into the darkness. Twice he stumbled. It took concentration just to place one foot in front of the other. Then he tripped and found himself on his knees on the cave floor. In the dim glow of a lantern, the bed sacks and blankets were just ahead.

It was too much effort to get up. He crawled the last few feet to the bed sacks and pitched forward onto the first one he came to.

“Wrong bed, Captain,” a high, sharp voice cut through the dark.

“You ’sleep, ’Lizabeth?”

“Not anymore.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Not a thing.”

“You’re still mad because I didn’t tell you.” He rolled onto his back and threw an arm out. “Oops. What are you doing here?”

Elizabeth shoved the heavy arm off her midsection and sat up. “This is my bed, not yours.” She turned her face away. “Phew, you’re drunk.”

“Am I?” He blew out a long sigh. “You may be right.”

“Go to your own bed. Now!”

“I’m going, I’m going. Where is it?”

He tried to push himself up and sprawled onto his face instead. His nose flattened against the blanket. The world lurched into a slow spin. He winced and closed his eyes to stop the whirling.

In seconds, he was asleep.