Jodi Thomas: Texas Rain

Travis noticed horses tied to a line thirty yards from the road. Saddles and gear had been stacked a few feet away. Hired hands, he thought, and from the looks of the mounts, some must have ridden long and hard to get here. Not counting those married, men still outnumbered women twenty to one out here. Sage would have her pick of single men, and Travis would make sure her pick measured up.

Sage had been wiggling in the seat for an hour. She was starting to look more like she thought she might be shot before anyone asked her to dance. "Promise me you'll stay close, Travis. There will be people here I don't know."

"You'll recognize most." He winked. "The others will want to know you."

She nodded but didn't look like she believed him. The McMurrays hated strangers with good reason.

"I won't let you out of my sight." He knew few in town and remembered only one young woman near his age. Madeline Ward. She'd been a few years younger than he, but he'd seen her in the settlement on trading days. Her father started blacksmithing at the post about the time Travis joined the Rangers. She'd be twenty-five by now and probably had half a dozen kids, so Travis saw no problem in fulfilling his one duty of keeping an eye on Sage.

His sister had a death grip on his arm as they walked into the barn. "Take it easy," Travis whispered. He thought of adding that it was just a dance, but he guessed she might get violent. Apparently, this was her grand crusade.

Suddenly she smiled and let go of his arm. He watched as she ran to a circle of young people about her age who'd gathered near the fiddler's stand. They all hugged and squealed, welcoming her into their group.

Unlike her brothers, Sage had attended the little school in Mrs. Dickerson's kitchen after Teagen turned eighteen and it was safe for the McMurrays to leave their ranch. School ran three days a week every fall and spring. If the weather turned bad, the girls spent the night in the widow's parlor, and the boys took the loft in her barn. Ten families were each responsible for a month of provisions and wood for the widow, in exchange for the schooling and occasional lodging of the students. Tobin had been thirteen when they'd rebuilt the bridge. He could have gone to school a few years, but either he thought he was too old or he feared people too much to bother. Travis and Teagen saw no point in trying to make their little brother leave the ranch, so only Sage attended.

Travis couldn't help but laugh as Sage hugged all her friends. He didn't call one person in this part of Texas friend, but his kid sister had more than she could talk to.

Moving into the shadows, he watched her. He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if his father and mother had lived and the McMurray boys had been allowed to grow up a little at a time. Maybe Teagen wouldn't be so angry. Maybe Tobin would talk to people. Maybe he wouldn't feel the need to look behind himself so often.

Travis took a step backward, hoping to go unnoticed, and slammed into something soft and alive.

"Beg your…" he started as he turned to find a woman, no taller than his shoulder, standing behind him.

Fiery green eyes glared up at him. "Almost killed me, ye did!" She swore, using words he'd never heard come out of a woman's mouth. "If ye'd hit me any harder, I'd be dead on the spot." She rubbed her hands across her body as if checking for broken bones. "Ye make a habit of backing about in the dark?"

He couldn't hide his grin as Ireland flavored her every word. He wasn't surprised when the hood of her navy cape slipped slightly to reveal red curls.

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect anyone to be standing so close behind me." He removed his hat and tried to focus enough in the darkness to see her face.

She was small, maybe an inch or two shorter than Sage, and except for a colorful scarf at her throat, covered in dark blue wool. He couldn't help thinking that she would blend almost perfectly with a midnight sky. Still, how could she have gotten so close without him hearing her?

"I wasn't standing behind ye." She smoothed her hands down her coat and tugged up the hood, almost disappearing into the shadows. "I was hiding, and I'll thank ye to turn around and go about yer business so I can get back to mine. As far as I'm concerned, ye're a tree growing here in this barn, and I've nothing to say to ye."

Travis didn't budge. " 'Tis sorry, I am." He echoed her accent. "When did hiding become a business?"

Silently she stared at him as if she thought him slow-witted.

"Mind telling me why you feel the need for such an occupation?" he asked. Most of her face might be in shadow, but he found himself dying to see what she looked like.

She rolled her beautiful green eyes. "Now, sir, if I was hiding, it should be logical that I'd be doing it so I won't have to talk. Turn around before I have to get rough with ye."

Travis slowly followed orders deciding that this dance might not be as boring as he'd thought. Sage was obviously having a great time talking to friends, and he had someone of interest to watch.

When he glanced back, she'd vanished as quickly as she'd appeared. He was surprised how disappointed he felt. He watched the crowd, seeing a few faces he recognized, but none with green eyes.

The Widow Dickerson came over after half an hour of dancing with every old man she could talk into taking her around the floor. She was actively looking for husband number three. Since she had a drink in her hand and he was half her age, Travis thought he would be safe talking to her without having to dance.

"Evening, Mrs. Dickerson."

"Evening, Travis. It's good to see you home." She had a way of moving her head back and forth like a clock's pendulum when she talked. A habit that must drive her pupils crazy. "I saw your brothers at the trading post a few months ago, and they said you were overdue for a visit."

"Yes," he nodded, not surprised she asked about him, for Mrs. Dickerson tried her best to keep up with everyone.

She smiled and waited.

That was it, he thought, the entire scope of his conversation skills.

"Nice dance," she said, as if coaching him.

"Yes," he answered, trying to think of another word to say. "Lots of new folks."

She nodded. "True, but several are with the wagons heading north in the morning. They only stayed this long because of the dance. Won't be much fun where they are headed."

"Oh." He frowned trying to think of more than one-word answers.

Mrs. Dickerson didn't seem to notice. "Last I heard, Elmo is looking for someone to take them farther upriver, but everyone knows it's not safe much past Fort Graham."

Travis nodded. He tried to listen, but he'd caught a glimpse of color, no more than a scarf, slip through the side door. The woman he'd stepped on was leaving. He felt a pull to follow her. One touch, one look. He hadn't even seen her whole face, yet he almost ran for the door.

"If you had time, you could take them." Mrs. Dickerson nodded as if she'd solved the homesteaders' problem. "Sage tells me you've been all over Texas."

Travis forced himself to pay attention to the old teacher. He didn't want to spend the first break he'd had in two years taking farmers north as she suggested. They always seemed to buy land just beyond where the forts could protect them. The warring tribes in the top half of the state weren't like those in the south. He'd seen enough burned homesteads already. Texas had plenty of outlaws and rustlers in the south to keep him busy. He didn't need to go north.

He glanced once more at the door, wondering what the little lady he'd stepped on would do if he followed her.

Mrs. Dickerson spotted Homer Carter and patted Travis's arm. Once more Travis forced himself to stop daydreaming.

He stared in the direction the teacher was looking and noticed Homer. The man had cleaned up since the last time Travis saw him, but his face still looked like leather.