Lone Star Bride

“What were you doing sneaking around the house so late at night? The last I saw of you, was you running to the trees.”

“Pardon my bad manners, señor. I panicked. Your horse wanted to run.”

“So it was Dughall’s fault?”

The boy sighed and, after a heartbeat of silence, looked at the gate. “No, señor. I made a mistake, one I will not make again. He just wanted to go for a run. In the morning, he would have been in his stall. I’m a hard worker, not a thief. I heard you will be driving a herd to New Orleans. You won’t find anyone better with a lasso.”

Jackson had to smile at the kid. “You mean you overheard.”

The kid’s body went rigid. From under the wide-brimmed hat, he looked Jackson in the eye. The big eyes looked too delicate to survive in this rough world.

“You know I’m good with horses.”

“Here.” Tossing the apple to Santiago, Jackson watched as the soft hands caught it effortlessly. “If you’re going to do a man’s job, you need to add some muscles. And no stealing or sneaking around.” Jackson turned to make his way back to the barn.

The kid ran after him. “I don’t steal.”

“You want me to trust you? To give you a job? Why should I?” The boy kept his head down, but his spine remained stiff, and Jackson could hear the sharp hard breaths coming from the kid’s nose. He got the impression little Santiago was angry. It reminded him of barn kittens whenever they hissed at him.

“The horse wanted to run. You keep such a fine animal in a small place. Maybe you don’t deserve him.”

Jackson suppressed a laugh. Despite his small size, the little guy had plenty of gumption. “So you were saving my horse. And I should thank you by giving you a job?”

Santiago followed him to the barn and through the doors.

“I’m sorry, señor. Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my good manners. Hire me. You’ll not regret it. I promise.”

Walking into the dark barn, Jackson paused at Dughall’s stall. “So you think you can handle a job on the trail?”

The kid didn’t even look at him, but made a beeline to the gray mare a few doors down. One of the mares Jackson had wanted, but De Zavala had not included in the deal.

He leaned against the wall and studied the kid. Something was not right, but he couldn’t identify the problem. The boy moved like he owned the place, and he sounded educated. He knew horses, how to handle them, how to ride. Not your typical lost orphan.

“Do you have a place to sleep, or were you sleeping in the courtyard?”

With a soft whistle, the kid moved to the next horse. They acted as if they knew him. Necks arched over the doors, trying to get the kid’s attention. The boy laughed as he shared the apple with one of the mares. The small shoulders shrugged. “I like the quiet of the moon and horses.”

Jackson understood the need to be alone. Dughall made a rumbling noise in his throat. He seemed to want the boy’s attention also.

With a sigh, Jackson headed to his own small room. Maybe this time he could actually sleep. As he walked down the corridor, he yelled back to the kid. “I’m driving a herd east. I could use a helper for the cook.”

That got the kid’s attention. His head shot up. “Why can’t I work with the horses and cattle? I don’t want to cook.” He ran a dirty sleeve across his nose and ran to catch up to Jackson’s longer strides.

“You’re too small.” Jackson hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. He avoided entanglements with people, but this kid pulled on all his protective strings. The kid was too small to handle the dangers of a cattle drive. He shouldn’t have said anything.

In his room, he poured the fresh water into a bowl and removed his jacket.

“I know I’m going to regret this,” he mumbled in English.

“No, señor, I’ll be a great help for the cook. Please, I just want to go on the drive.”

One of his eyebrows shot up as he gave the boy a pointed stare. The kid gasped and covered his mouth. He must have realized his mistake. “So you do speak English? Any other lies I need to know?”

“Oh, no, no. I understand little. I will...try to speak good.”

He narrowed his eyes at the kid.

Santiago lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you need.”

“You sure find yourself apologizing a lot.” He ran his hands over the stubble on his chin. “Be at the north bunkhouse Thursday morning. Can you do that?” Jackson untucked his shirt.

“Yes, yes. Thank you.” Santiago’s face turned red as he nodded. With a quick turn to leave, he ran hard into the wall next to the door. A loud yelp followed.

“Are you all right?” The kid didn’t answer. Jackson reached for him, but Santiago bolted.

Jackson watched him run past the horses as if a bear chased him. That boy confused him. One minute he acted like the son of privilege, the next a scared gutter rat. And little Santiago knew English.

Normally, he had no tolerance for liars, but when someone was alone and fighting to survive, he could not really hold it against them. He turned and put as much mental distance as he could between himself and the kid. Once on the trail, he would be the cook’s problem.

* * *

Sophia ran all the way back to the courtyard. Excitement roared through her body like the flooded Guadalupe River. She was going on a real cattle drive, and when she got back, her father would have to acknowledge her skills.

Nothing but riding all day, seeing the country and traveling to new places. Arms wide, she twirled under the full moon, laughing at the stars. She spent hours dreaming about this life, but never really thought she’d have the opportunity.

How would she leave without her father worrying about her or searching for her? Maybe she could trust him one more time. She could tell him, despite all his plans and his talk of burdens. Then, at least, she would not have to mask her true identity from the crew.

If she had to stay in disguise, she wouldn’t be able to take one of her own horses. Mr. McCreed would think she stole it. It would be easier if her father allowed her to join the cattle drive as a De Zavala.

The wind caught her brother’s hat, knocking it off. Her hair tumbled down. The long thick waves were hard to control on a good day. With a heavy sigh, she knew if her father was not open to her new goal, it would have to be cut.

She picked up the hat and put it back on. In the morning, she would talk to him. They were the only De Zavalas left.

Chapter Three (#u7854eef5-f5fb-52de-90da-fc69d83141bb)

Sofia sat the plate of sweet breads on the edge of her father’s desk. Next to the vase of roses and starburst she had cut from her mother’s garden this morning.

“Father, it’s nothing. I fell while cutting the fresh flowers for your study.” She sat in the chair Jackson McCreed had occupied last night. “The bricks were wet from the morning shower. Distracted, thinking about ways to help on the ranch, I slipped.”

Taking one of the large rolls with sugar and icing, her father shook his head. “You should not be concerned with matters of the ranch. You are twenty-two years old. Way past the time to be married and giving me grandsons.”

“I can help you here on the ranch. I used to—”

“There are many things you used to do that are inappropriate for a young lady of good breeding. We have enough cattle gathered to drive to New Orleans.”

He looked through some papers on his desk. “We will use the money to send you to Galveston. There, my cousin Perez has connections with good American families.” He picked up a letter and handed it to her. “We’re making arrangements now. You, marrying into one of these families, will do more to secure our legacy here in Texas than working on the ranch. It will give us solid ground to stand on, no matter the vote from the new congress. I will allow you to marry the one of your choosing.”

“That’s very generous of you, Papi.” He didn’t seem to pick up on her sarcastic tone. Or ignored it. That had been his style since the flood that took her mother and brother—avoid any emotion. He expected the same from her.