Texas Homecoming (2 page)

“There’s plenty of stock around,” his grandfather said, “but I don’t know if you can catch them with those skinny-rumped mares you’re riding.”

“They’ll make good breeding stock.”

“For what?”

“Riding horses.”

“A mustang’s the only horse a man needs for riding in this country.”

“I’m not talking about men. After things settle down a bit, women will want their own horses.”

His grandfather snorted. “Not decent women. They know their place.”

One of the many things Cade and his grandfather disagreed on.

“What’s been going on since I left?” Cade walked between his grandfather and uncle. The others followed, still mounted. “Any of the old hands still here?”

His grandfather snorted scornfully. “They couldn’t stick it out. One of them got killed by the bunch of scallywags that caught Jessie, and the rest of them took off. I told
them one decent Texan could handle a dozen of that trash, but they was running too fast to hear.”

Cade was too happy to see the familiar outline of the house as it came into view to argue. Everything looked in need of repair, but it was all there—house, bunkhouse, corrals, even the lean-to for the milk cow and the chicken coop. He felt a tremendous sense of relief. His first concern had been his family, but his home had been in his thoughts, too. The way it had been, the way he wanted it to be. He’d told himself that when the war was over, no matter the outcome, he’d have a place to go back to, a way to provide for his grandfather and uncle if they were still alive. He’d have a way to build the kind of life he wanted for himself and the family he hoped to have.

“We lost the milk cow to one of those gangs, but I stole her back.” His grandfather’s dry cackle made Cade realize just how old he really was. “They never expected an old man to come after her. They attacked one of the other gangs, sure they’d took her.” He laughed again. “They never did come back here looking for her.”

Cade noticed some chickens around the side of the bunkhouse, wondered what had become of the garden. He didn’t know why he was thinking about that. Neither of the old men could cook, at least not what most people would consider cooking. They could manage to burn some beef over an open fire or fry it hard in lard, but that was about it. Greens were another matter entirely.

“How are you taking care of yourself, Gramps?” His uncle’s clothes seemed to have been recently washed, and he was fitter than many men Cade had seen.

“We got us a woman to do the cooking and washing,” his uncle said. “She takes care of us pretty good.”

“I didn’t want her here at first,” his grandfather said, “but she didn’t have no place else to go.”

Cade imagined there had been a lot of women displaced by the war, particularly those whose husbands hadn’t come home.

“Here I’ve been worrying about you, and you’ve got some poor soul catering to your every whim,” Cade teased. “I bet you even make her bring the water from the well.”

“Sure as hell do,” his grandfather said. “You won’t see me toting water for no woman.”

Some things never changed.

Cade paused when they reached the ranch yard. It felt good to be back, even better than he’d anticipated. The air was hot and dry, clean with the tangy odor of mesquite, cedar, and oak. Familiar. Friendly. No thunder of guns, scream of shells, cries of men and animals, no stench of death and rot. He couldn’t put into words quite what it meant to be back on the soil of his birth, but he meant to find a way. He didn’t want to forget. Ever. He wanted his children to know.

“You’d better introduce me to your housekeeper,” Cade said to his grandfather. “I don’t image she’ll be happy to see us.”

“She will if she’s got good sense,” his grandfather said.

“And she
does
have good sense,” his uncle said. “Don’t know how we’d have gotten along without her.”

“Where’s she staying?” Cade asked.

“In the house,” his grandfather said. “There weren’t no other place but the bunkhouse.”

“Call her out,” Cade said. “She might as well get the bad news.”

But there was no need. The door flew open, and a young woman came out of the house and started toward them.
Cade’s breath caught in his throat. It couldn’t be. There was no way Pilar diViere would ever set foot on this ranch, much less cook and wash for his grandfather.

“What’s Pilar doing here?” Cade said, turning to his grandfather.

“Squatters took over her ranch. Nobody in town wanted anything to do with her grandmother. Can’t say I blame them. I never did see such a poisonous old bat.”

“Do you mean Senora diViere is here, too?” Cade asked, struggling to make sense of this. At least now he understood why Laveau had been so angry.

“That’s why we’re living in the bunkhouse,” his grandfather said. “I gotta eat, but I can’t stand that woman.”

Cade turned his stunned gaze back to Pilar. She had grown even more beautiful since he’d last seen her. A quarter French, she had her Spanish grandmother’s black hair and eyes, her English mother’s fair skin, the diViere height. Looking at her caused Cade’s heart to lurch in his chest even though he knew that the years of anger and hatred between their families formed a barrier that made friendship unlikely, anything else impossible.

She looked uncertain of his reaction to her. “Where is Laveau?” she asked. “Did he come with you?”

Cade’s heart thudded to a halt. She didn’t know of her brother’s treachery. She didn’t know that seven of the eleven men who had taken an oath to bring him to justice were coming to Texas to hang him.

Chapter Two

Pilar didn’t know why she should feel so awkward. She was just asking Cade for news of her brother. The flood of eager volunteers that had flowed out of Texas had come back a trickle of disheartened veterans. Across the state, women cried for men they’d lost, prayed for those yet to come home, gave thanks for the ones who returned.

Pilar had expected that Cade would come home. Laveau had written that Cade was alive and just as conceited as ever. Laveau had hated Cade since he was old enough to understand the reason for the enmity between their families. Cade had been more defiant than hostile. Wild as a young man, full of himself, handsome in a boyish fashion, ready to do whatever caught his fancy, Cade had cut a wide swath across the county, leaving a trail of mischief that had caused her grandmother’s bosom to heave with indignation that God didn’t send down a plague to destroy him and every other Wheeler. She said they were common, had
no respect for authority, no traditions to uphold, no fear of God.

Except for defiance, the man who faced Pilar appeared to have little in common with the boy she remembered. Age had matured his features, experience had robbed his expression of animation, and suffering had dimmed the sparkle in his blue eyes. There was a hardness about him now, a quality that said once he made up his mind to do something he wouldn’t stop until he’d done it. She also saw hostility.

“Laveau isn’t with us.” His voice was hard, icy.

“Do you know where he is, when he’s coming home?”

“No.”

“We haven’t seen him in a year,” one of the strangers said. “The casualty lists said he was dead.”

“He’s not dead,” Pilar said. “I got a letter just a month ago.”

“Where is he?” the man asked.

The sudden anger in the man’s voice surprised Pilar.

“Let me introduce my friends,” Cade said. “This is Holt Price. He’s from Vermont, but he did more to keep our boys alive than most of our officers. That lanky blond is one of my Virginia cousins, Owen Wheeler. He’s shiftless, much too good-looking, and you can’t believe a word he says. That man astride the black mare is Rafe Jerry. No one knows where he comes from. We’re afraid to ask.”

Pilar couldn’t imagine Cade being afraid of anything.

“What’s Laveau doing now?” Cade asked. His eyes had grown colder. Owen looked angry. She wondered why.

“He’s been on special assignment,” Pilar said, “traveling all over the West.” Her grandmother had been so proud, certain he would return home covered with honors. “His
last letter was from Kentucky. He said he was headed home.”

“I’m sure you’ll be glad to have him back.”

Laveau wrote that he’d had great success during the last year, that he’d be able to regain the whole of his grandmother’s grant when he came back. Pilar wanted their land back, wanted to return home, but she didn’t feel nearly so desperate as she had two years ago. She’d been humiliated when she and her grandmother had been forced to seek refuge with their enemy. She’d been ready to believe every word her grandmother said about the Wheelers. The old man’s abusive attitude toward her only reinforced her prejudices.

But two years of hard work and increasing skill had altered Pilar’s attitude.

She’d learned to take pride in being able to do things she would never have considered doing in the past. Learning to hold her own in the give-and-take with the old man had helped her escape the humiliation her grandmother felt.

“What was his special assignment?” Cade asked.

“Betraying someone else,” Owen muttered.

Owen started to say more, but Cade cut him off. “I guess that would be his job. After all, changing sides during a war requires trading information.”

Laveau’s defection had shocked Pilar. She cared nothing about secession and states’ rights, didn’t know anybody who had slaves. But though she felt betrayed by a government that refused to recognize her mother’s Spanish grant, she didn’t want Laveau to be part of an army that killed people she knew.

Her grandmother thought Laveau was brilliant to put himself on the winning side. She believed it was the beginning
of the family’s return to power, wealth, and influence.

“Laveau said everybody could tell the Union was going to win the war,” Pilar said. “He says they will make the Confederacy pay for the war. He said he could be of more help to everybody on the Union side.”

“That lying, yellow-bellied son of a bitch!” Owen shouted. “Do you know what the bastard did?”

The violence of Owen’s reaction caught Pilar by surprise. She wouldn’t have expected Laveau’s friends to like his defection, but she couldn’t understand why they would be so angry. “Changing sides isn’t so terrible. It’s not like he hurt any of you himself.”

“Owen is an idealist,” Cade said, his calm voice at variance with the coldness of his eyes. He had gripped Owen’s arm, dug his fingers into the flesh. There was a momentary struggle before Owen angrily jerked his arm away.

“All right,” Owen said. “But I can’t stand here and listen to her talk about him like he was some kind of hero.”

“Why don’t you unsaddle the horses? Gramps can show you where everything is.”

“That gal’s got to start cooking if she’s gonna feed this mess of men.” His grandfather cackled, his eyes alight with deviltry. “Might even have to drag the Spanish princess out of her room to help.”

“My grandmother will
never
work in this house,” Pilar said, anger flaring with the speed of a lightning strike to dry tinder. Pilar had come to take pride in her cooking and her ability to give the old man as good as she got, but his attempts to destroy her grandmother’s pride made her angry. Her grandmother had lost everything else. Pilar intended to see that she kept her pride.

“I’m sure Miss diViere can handle everything,” Cade said.

“What makes you think so?” his grandfather snapped.

“She’s put up with you for two years. That’s recommendation enough for me.”

“I don’t care who cooks,” the old man said, “as long as it’s hot and plentiful.”

“If it’s too much, one of us can help,” Cade said.

“Ain’t no man cooking in my house when there’s a woman about,” his grandfather said. “What do you think she’s paid to do?”

“Whatever you pay her, I’m sure it’s not enough to put up with you.”

“You always did think you were smarter than anybody else.”

“So you’ve told me.” Cade smiled despite his grandfather’s angry words. “I guess I haven’t changed too much. Now why don’t you show the boys where to put the horses?”

“I guess you’re planning to take over,” his grandfather said, his eyes turning angrier. “Being leader of that troop has gone to your head. As I heard tell, it got shot to pieces. Some leadership.”

“Look, old man, there’s a lot you don’t know,” Owen said. “That wasn’t Cade. It was—”

“Not everybody can be right all the time,” Cade said, again cutting off his impetuous cousin.

“If it hadn’t been for Cade, nobody would have gotten out alive,” Rafe said.

“His friends always did side with him no matter what. One of these days he’ll get all of you killed.”

“I figure the best chance to do that is to start them rounding up and branding our cows,” Cade said, his expression
tight. “Now you’d better show them where to put the horses.”

“Come on.” The old man turned and walked away.

“I thought Southern families stuck together,” Holt said as he turned to follow the old man.

“Only against outsiders.” Cade grinned. “When there’s nobody else around, we don’t mind sharpening our teeth on each other.”

“Let’s get the horses unsaddled,” Owen said. “If I know Cade, he’ll have us chasing mustangs first thing tomorrow.”

“Sleep tight,” Cade said. “You’ll need all your rest.”

Owen made a rude sign. Rafe and Holt followed without comment.

Pilar had never liked Earl Wheeler. Setting aside what he’d done to her family, he wasn’t a likable man. He loved to criticize and humiliate people. Still, his sharp words for his grandson had surprised her. She didn’t believe Cade would actually help her.

“I don’t imagine it’s been easy working for my grandfather,” Cade said.

He couldn’t know what she and her grandmother had endured.

“What made you do it? I’d have thought you’d go to Mexico.”

Necessity made her do it, but she had stopped being angry at Fate long ago. Even though the war was over and men were coming back to Texas, everything had changed. She had changed, but Cade had changed, too. She sensed he was as different from his grandfather as she was from her grandmother. Neither of them had time for the hatred and pride of the past. He might really want to know why he’d found her in the last place he would expect her to be.

She didn’t like working for the Wheelers, but she had
learned to take care of herself, learned from experience that loss of pride wouldn’t kill her. She had grown stronger, had learned that no one had the power to destroy her belief in herself.

“Two women traveling alone would have been set upon by every bandit between here and Mexico City,” she said.

“Why didn’t you go to San Antonio?”

“It’s been taken over by Anglos who want nothing to do with anyone who sided with Mexico.” She didn’t say that her grandmother’s pride wouldn’t allow her to live in San Antonio when her only means of support was a granddaughter who worked in a shop or the home of some rich Anglo.

“They couldn’t be worse than my grandfather.”

“What do you want me to cook for supper? I wasn’t prepared for four extra people.” She wanted to get away from his smile. It had grown warmer until she almost felt he was pleased to see her. Yet she didn’t trust him. He knew something about Laveau he wasn’t willing to tell her.

“We’ll eat anything you fix,” he said with a broad smile. “We’ve been cooking for ourselves for too long. I won’t tell you some of the things we’ve been forced to eat.”

She hadn’t thought of that, but she should have guessed. Other men who’d come back had nothing but their rifles and the clothes on their backs. At least Cade and his friends had managed to keep their horses.

“There’s some pork, but not enough to last long. We can eat the chickens, but I’d rather keep them for eggs. I’m sure you remember there are turkeys in the pecan trees along the creek. There’re wild pigs, too. We couldn’t feed them, so we turned them loose to forage for themselves.”

“We can kill a beef now and again,” Cade said, “but I’d
rather keep them for market. What will you do about your place?”

“Laveau will drive the squatters off when he gets back. He said the Union Army will take over Texas. He says they’ll give us our land back.
All of it
.”

His expression turned angry again. No, that wasn’t exactly right. It wasn’t hatred either, but the emotion she felt emanating from him was as strong as hatred.

“Do you still write Laveau?”

“He moves too often.”

“Then you don’t know when he’ll get home?”

“He said he’d come home when the Union Army got here.”

“They’re here already.”

“I know. General Gordon Granger landed in Galveston on the nineteenth of June. He proclaimed Texas restored to the Union, the slaves free, and all acts of the Confederacy null and void. Your grandpa told me fifty thousand more troops landed in July. When Laveau didn’t come back with them, I thought he might be with you.”

Strong emotion remained in his gaze. Only now it seemed to have an element of sadness, even pain. The Cade Wheeler who rode off to defeat the Union single-handedly had been too cocky for ordinary human emotions to affect him. But that wasn’t true any longer. She longed to ask what had happened.

“Laveau wouldn’t be with us after changing sides. He’d have been in danger of his life.”

Shock turned her stiff. “You would kill him?” She had never been allowed to forget the enmity between their two families, but it had never gone as far as killing. Her grandfather had been killed in the Texas war for independence. Her father had died ten years later. The other men in her
family had been too lazy—too cowardly according to Laveau—to mount an effective counterattack against the Wheelers’ depredations.

“Changing sides during a war is treason,” Cade explained. “The usual punishment is death by a firing squad.”

“But you wouldn’t—”

“He would have received a trial before being shot.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” she said. “The Confederacy is no more, and the Union Army considers him a hero. He wrote about officers he knew, even generals.”

“I know nothing about what he did after he left us.”

“You don’t believe he knows those people,” she said. “You think he’s lying. Why?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re trying to hide it, but I see it in your face.”

“It really doesn’t matter what I believe. We’ll find out for sure when he gets home. Which could be any day. I expect you’ll leave as soon as he returns, so I’d better start looking around for a replacement.”

It surprised Pilar that she didn’t feel quite so desperate to leave as she had an hour before. Despite the family enmity, a small part of her had always liked Cade. She guessed it was the female tendency to like an outlaw or renegade, the man who would make the worst possible husband. Not that she’d ever thought of marrying Cade. But he was handsome, daring.

He used to be full of laughter.

He’d kidnapped her once and taken her for a wild ride across their ranch, outracing the ranch hands who had followed. She had been terrified—and thrilled. He hadn’t hurt her. Or threatened her virtue.

She remembered his strong arms, the youthful exuberance that had caught her up despite her efforts to remain
indignant, the feeling that as long as she was with him, she was safe. Which, of course, just went to show how silly a fifteen-year-old girl could be when it came to a handsome, nineteen-year-old daredevil.

“We’ll leave as soon as he comes back,” Pilar said. “We’re anxious to return to our home.”

“How many squatters are on your land?”

Far more than Laveau could handle alone. “I’m sure the Army will take care of them for us.”