The Smartest Horse in Texas (The Traherns #2) (13 page)

What in tarnation was I goin’ to do? Hide until he left?
Yet...what if it were one of my boys?

If it were a stranger, he’d know someone lived here. A cow left
unmilked will get milk fever or go dry. He’d be able to tell, from the size of
her udder, that she’d been milked this morning. And that there’d been a fire in
the fireplace last night.

Maybe I should go over to Mally’s house and spend the night
there. It was pitch dark now, and I’d probably break my neck on the rough
trail, but I didn’t want to face a man alone, with no gun.

Suddenly a dog barked, startling me, and as I backed up, it
charged around the corner and into the barn. I turned to run, but it caught my
dress in its teeth and tore it. It was the size of a wolf, and I backed away to
where the pitchfork leaned against the side of the barn and grabbed it with
both hands.

“I wouldn’t do that,” a man said. He walked though the door with
a pistol in his hand.

“Abigail?” he said.

I looked at this stranger with his long beard and Jacob’s voice.
After
five years? Could it be?

“Jacob?”

He put the pistol away. “Yes. Down, Barney. Sit.”

The dog sat immediately. My legs felt so weak I almost joined
him.

“Sorry about him. He’s still young. Aggie was waiting when I got
here. I milked her and hoped you hadn’t got yourself hurt, since you wouldn’t
have left her uncared for. I figured you’d gone to the Buchanan’s and were just
late getting back.”

“I went to the settlements. Got me a goose.”

He nodded. “Where are the boys?”

“Grown and gone.”

“Even Razzel?”

“Yes. They didn’t stay any better ‘n you.” I didn’t intend to
accuse him of neglect, but it came out that way, and thinking of it, he had.

 “Did you get yourself another man? I wouldn’t blame you.”

“No.” Jacob had always been man enough for me. It was just that
he had to see what was on the other side of the hill.

“You done with your seeing?” I asked him. He had grown older,
there was a touch of gray in his beard, but he still had the size to fight a
bear if he came across one. My boys were all like him, big men who could handle
life. I could only hope they’d handled the war.

“There’s another ocean out there,” he said, his voice glowing
with remembrance, “past some plains and some mountains. When I got to it, I
turned around. Was coming home when a war got in the way.”

“You come to stay?”
I wanted him to. Oh, how I wanted him to.

“No.”

My heart fell. It was as I expected, the wanderlust would never
leave him. I felt like all the gumption had plumb gone out of me. He’d never
settle down until he died and got buried in some foreign land.

He looked me over. “You always were the prettiest gal on the
mountain.”

“I ain’t any longer.”

He shook his head. “Can’t prove it by me.”

“Jacob, I’m the only gal on the mountain.”

That brought a smile to his face. “I crossed many a mountain.
Wherever I went, you were always with me, always talking to me and showing me
your love in the little ways you do.”

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, sort of
hesitant like. “You should see it out there, Abigail. The wind blowin’ off the
water. It makes you feel alive.”

“I like the mountains. And trees.”

“There’s mountains. Higher than these. And the trees are so big
it takes a day to walk around one. If you cut one down, you can build a whole
town with the lumber.”

“So?”

“You were always doing something for someone. I wanted better
for you
—
for us. I built us a place
in California. Near that ocean. Hired a man to care for it while I come to
fetch you and the boys. That is, if you’ll leave this here farm. We’ll have a
fine living on my new place. Soil is good and black. And deep. We won’t have to
plow around the boulders.”

When Jacob had left, I’d refused to go with him. Our youngest,
Razzel, was only twelve, and I had heard of the western lands and the wild
Indians and the blizzards and wildfires. I’d wanted no part of it.

Now, what was here for me? A farm that had taken the best years
of my life and almost killed me a few times? And would certainly kill me this
winter. I didn’t owe it anything. And if it had been the strongest house on the
mountain, I wouldn’t have stayed. If Jacob was leaving, I was going with him.
This time I wasn’t about to be left behind.

“I know you’re attached to this place, but—”

“Not attached. Not any longer. Oh, Jacob, I’ve missed you so
much.” And I started to bawl, louder than Aggie when she wants milking bad.

He stepped near and circled me with those long, strong arms of
his. “And I missed you, too. You were too stubborn to go with me, while I was
bound and determined to find us a better place than this.”

“I wasn’t being stubborn, Jacob. I was afraid.”
But too stubborn to
admit it.

“You? Afraid?”

“I didn’t want to take my boys out in that wild land. This place
was so secure.”

“They went anyway,” he said, leading the way to the house. He
slapped his hand on the side of his leg, and Barney shot out ahead of us, tail
wagging.

“Yes. First Gage, the week after you left. If you remember
right, he was twenty. Then Daniel, then the rest of them, whenever they reached
sixteen.”

We went inside. I looked around. It was the only home my boys
had known. “What if they come back and I’m not here?” I worried.

“We’ll tell the Buchanans.”

“They’re both dead.” I told him what had happened to them. “Only
Mally is alive, and she went to Missouri to live with kin.”

“Good for her.”

“I don’t know how we could leave a message.”

“We’ll tell people as we go along, mentioning California. If any
of those boys do look for you, they’ll come. I ain’t waiting here for ‘em.”

“Then I won’t either.”

He drew me into the firelight, looked me up and down and kissed
me soundly. I loved his kisses. It was how he’d wooed me away from that young
flatlander who thought he’d get a chance with me.

“I love you, Mrs. Courtney. I’ve been a long time waiting. I’d
‘ave been back a lot sooner, if I could’ve. Got swept up into that there war.
Man with a gun said I either joined them or I was the enemy. So I became a
Union soldier. Wasn’t particularly fighting for anything, except to stay alive
and get back to you.”

I believed him. “I love you, Jacob. Just don’t leave me again.”

“Never.” He pulled off his boots and I shucked out of my dress,
then stood there in my raggedy chemise, as he took off his shirt, then his
britches.

I was thinking hard. I knew I’d forgotten something.

As he grabbed my hand to pull me into bed, I stopped him,
saying, “Wait! Jacob, the goose!”

THE END

This is
Abigail’s story. If you wish to find out what happened to young Mally, read
THE HANDSOMEST
MAN IN THE COUNTRY,
a novella and #1 in The Traherns.

BOOKS BY OTHER
AUTHORS

SAMPLE:
KILL TO INHERIT

Prologue:
Enter
the Ghost

Sam Riley pulled off the narrow dirt road and stopped the
borrowed police cruiser on the edge of the ditch. Opening the door, he adjusted
the small Colt .380 in the holster under his left arm and glanced at the badge
clipped to his belt. The sun caught the window glass on the door of the new
1929 Durant, flashing the light across Riley’s face. He ducked his head
slightly to let the Fedora block the glare and then stepped out onto the packed
soil. Sucking in a breath of cold air, Riley scanned the tree line back to the
driveway he had passed.

From Washington to Washington was a long train trip. He’d
borrowed the police cruiser in Seattle to drive out to the Fonck mansion in the
foothills of nowhere. He wasn’t expected company, and he didn’t expect a warm
welcome. Especially once he started asking his questions. He tugged at the long
gray overcoat he wore, straightening it out, allowing easy access to his gun,
then started up the driveway.

Wind blew the branches and they rattled a little. Most of
the leaves had fallen, yet so many trees were evergreens that he couldn’t see
the house. When it finally came into view, it shocked him. It was bigger than
anything back East. He shook his head, knowing that there wasn’t anyone around
for many miles and that a lot of work would have gone into a home this size.
Four cars were parked in front of the house, all Fords. The grass near the
house had been cut short and a large barn could be seen out back.

He was still taking in the big picture when the front
door opened and a man stepped outside, a rifle cradled across his left arm. He
stood in the shade of the porch and didn’t appear much more than a shadow.

“Good evening.” Riley called out.

The man nodded.

“I’m looking for Mister Fonck.”

“Which one?”

Riley heard a window open and looked up. A rifle barrel
parted the curtain and then steadied on him. “I’d like to talk to Pierre.”

The man shifted a little and his rifle leveled off,
pointing directly at him. “I’m Pierre.” He nodded at Riley. “Who are you?”

Riley pushed his hat up a little as he thought of the
best reply, and when he decided on one, he answered, “FBI.”

He was staring at Pierre when he spoke and
from the corner of his eye he saw a flash of light from the rifle protruding
from the window. Instantly he was struck in the head with a sledgehammer-like
force. Lights exploded in his vision, followed by darkness.

Riley opened his eyes and blinked. He felt no pain, no
discomfort. He looked around in the pitch blackness, but didn’t see anything.
There weren’t any lights. Nothing. No sun, no moon, or stars. There were no
sounds either. Not even the background noise of wind. He concluded that he must
be in a cellar and reached out with his hand. He swung it gently around trying
to find something. He touched his fedora, but other than his hat, there was
nothing within his reach. He felt panic rise in his chest. Was he blind? Deaf?
He sat up, reaching farther out and still not finding anything.

He reached farther and farther into the darkness. Still
nothing. He reached out with a foot, then moved upright. Suddenly he was seeing
stars through the outlines of branches. He scanned the area around him. The
bushes. Water dripping from branches. Soggy soil.

Chest deep in the
ground? Why was that?

Riley lunged forward and rolled over, pulling the rest of
his body from the earth. He scrambled to his feet and glanced back. There was
no sign of a hole or disturbed dirt. His clothes were clean.

He shivered, but not because he was cold. In fact, he
couldn’t feel a thing. Habitually he reached for his gun and found it, then
realized the badge was missing. For a long time he stood staring at the ground
from where he had crawled. Then the rain came as if to answer a question that
he was afraid to ask. The rain came and the droplets fell, but he didn’t feel
them. They passed through him and hit the ground.

The spot of soil that mesmerized him, hid
his body. He was certain of that. There was one other thing he was certain of
—
he
wouldn’t rest until he found his killer
.

Want the rest of Riley’s story? Grab
Kill to Inherit
By Nolan Radke

A full length novel about the
ghost detective and his allies.

Each book in the series brings
the ghost closer to solving his own murder.

SISTERS OF
SPIRIT

The
Sisters of
Spirit
are a
group of girls who attended Virginia Tech around the same time and stayed in
the same dorm. The group was started by Stormy and Jo, and included mainly
western girls, although Jennel was an honorary member from Boston. Each has her
own story which can be read separately from the others. Also, a couple of their
friends, Mary and Alison, asked to be included in the series.

Vol. 1 The Books of Moses DVD
* 650 pictures
covering the first five books of the Bible

Vol. 2 The Books of History DVD
* 850 pictures
from Joshua through Esther

Kindle
ebooks available for children:
The Creation
,
Noah’s Ark,
Ruth
and others. I don’t plan to do too many of these, as they are
all available on the DVDs and are much more entertaining that way. Also the
DVDs are narrated and subtitled in English and Spanish.