Jolene Navarro - Lone Star Bride

She touched the soft petal of a yellow rose. “They plan to be gone for a few weeks. If I’m going into Galveston society, I could use new gowns.”

With a few steps, he was next to her. He kissed her on the forehead as if she were still a little girl. “That’s a fine idea. You can become familiar with the city before we start going to socials. When are they leaving?”

“At the end of this week. I can go into town with Juanita.” And by the end of next month, her reputation might be ruined, but she didn’t enjoy town anyway. Here on the ranch, it wouldn’t matter.

She didn’t need or want a husband who cared more about social graces than daily life on the ranch. An image of the tall cowboy rubbing the jaw of his stallion popped into her mind, but she shook her head. She would not allow the cowboy to distract her, either.

* * *

A few days later, Sofia made her way through the tree line in the dark, an old work saddle on her hip. She had to move slowly in order not to trip. The boots were a size or two too big and made moving awkward.

A few shirts and a pair of pants, along with extra strips of cloth to keep everything hidden, were stuffed into a worn leather saddlebag. The bag came from a raid of her brother’s room. With a rolled-up blanket, a hunting knife and his prized Hawken rifle she had everything a cowboy would need to survive.

From her own closet, she pulled out the rawhide rope she’d made herself a few years ago. The vaqueros who helped her make it taught her that it was even more important than the horse under a person. It was an extension of the vaquero’s arm.

She loved working with the rope. Her brother got mad whenever her skill outdid his.

Her left hand went to the back of her neck, bare of the long braid she had since her earliest memories. Now it was gone. In the bottom of her brother’s drawer along with a note to her father. She had heard him in there late at night. It seemed once a month her father had developed the habit of going through every corner of her brother’s room. What if he didn’t?

Maybe if he found it with her cut braid, he would understand how important this was to her.

A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of the cold metal scissors pressed to the base of her neck.

The thick hair had fought the destruction. In chunks, the braid came loose in her hand. Soft curls sprang around her face, choppy and uneven until she ran a handful of hair grease through it.

She could imagine her brother teasing her about still looking like a girl. Choking back tears, she buried her thoughts of him. At times, she still expected him to walk into the room, make a joke about her being a girl and hug her until she was laughing. He would have loved this adventure.

A moment of sadness overcame her as she rubbed her bare neck.

Then anticipation rolled in her stomach. She was about to start a whole new adventure on the open range.

Sofia stopped at the edge of the trees. The sun wasn’t up yet, but a group of American cowboys moved around the old shed, getting ready for the day. She was about to live with them on a daily basis. Could she do this?

Yes! If she started doubting herself now, she might as well go back to the house.

Connected to the building was a covered cooking area, open on two sides. The smell of bacon and beans made her stomach rumble. Between her nerves and getting out of the house without being caught, she had missed the last two meals.

She still couldn’t eat anything at this point. Fear tangled her in its net. Air had a hard time finding its way to her lungs.

Would she be able to pull this off? She was relieved to find none of the men were from around the area. It would have been hard to hide her identity from someone who knew Sofia De Zavala, the rancher’s daughter. What would the trail boss do if he found out?

Boots that had been worn by her brother helped her take the first steps to this new journey. All she needed to do now was introduce herself to the cook and cowboys. She would be living with, working with and traveling with these rough men.

“Santiago?”

The sound of her brother’s name caused her to jump.

Jackson stood behind her. “What are you doing hiding out here?”

“I’m here to join the drive.”

For a few heartbeats, he stared at her. Not sure what to do, she studied her boots.

“You’re early, but that’s good. I’ll introduce you to Francisco Luna. He’s the cook.” Jackson nodded at a man who walked out from the back of the building.

Not wanting to hear her brother’s name over and over again, she had to come up with something else. She needed a nickname. “Call me Tiago.”

His gaze narrowed. “You’re changing your name?”

“No, it’s what I want to be called. It’s shorter, and this is a new adventure. I need a new name.”

“Okay, Tiago. Follow me. By the way, your English greatly improved since I saw you last.”

There was nothing to say to that, so she trailed behind Jackson, walking faster than she was used to in order to keep up with him. Stepping out from the protection of the trees, she took a deep breath and reminded herself she was a boy.

Cook was wider than he was tall, not that it was a difficult feat. Straight up on his toes, he might be five feet tall. Under a bushy mustache and white beard, he had a smile that stretched from ear to ear. He called out to the cowboys to come get their meal.

When Jackson introduced her, the little man lifted his chin and looked down at her. “You know how to work hard, mijo?”

“Sí, señor.” She forced herself to nod with confidence she didn’t feel. Sweat ran down her spine.

He looked apprehensive.

“Whatever you need, I’ll do it. You won’t know how you did it without me on all those other drives.”

He laughed and reached up to pat Jackson on his shoulder. “I think I like our little Tiago.”

“Yeah, he has that effect on people. I’m going to talk to the boys before we head out.”

Without pausing, Cook handed her a knife. “Take care of the bacon.” He moved quickly around her, getting several things done at once. All the while, making jokes she didn’t understand.

He explained her job was to tend the mules and chickens along with hauling, fetching, cleaning and anything else he needed doing.

This was happening. She was part of the crew that would drive cattle to New Orleans for her father. She might be cooking right now, but she was cooking outside, not in the kitchen like a woman. She was ready to ride over the country and out of Texas. She wanted to sing and dance.

Head down, she flipped the bacon and whistled as she checked the pot of beans. She was a boy on a trail drive.

In front of the bunkhouse, her new trail boss talked to a few of the men. She forced herself to look away. He could be her biggest threat to this new life.

When he was around she’d have to keep her head down and make sure not to look like, talk like or act like a woman. Jackson McCreed might make that difficult.

Chapter Four

The sun started peeking over the hills and highlighted the details of the rugged camp. Several cowboys walked outside, their boots hitting the old wood of the porch. They gathered around Jackson. After a few minutes, they started heading directly toward her as a group.

She wanted to find a place to hide. She hadn’t really thought what it would mean to live as a boy for the whole trip.

“It’s a kid. Where’d you come from?” She had never heard that cowboy’s accent before, and she wasn’t sure what he looked like because she kept her eyes down, focused on the sizzling bacon.

“I could use someone to polish my boots.” Laughter followed.

Someone pulled her hat off. “Not sure I’d trust him. He has the look of a scamp who would steal everything he could and sneak off in the night.” The new one speaking had a very strong Southern accent.