Lone Star Bride

He put the document down and sighed. “I don’t want to lose the ranch. If congress votes not to honor our land grants, I want to have a plan to ensure we keep it in our family, for my grandchildren.”

Reaching for his hand, she wanted him to understand she could ease some of his stress by staying. “Papi, you supported the new Texas, they will support you now. You know I can ride and rope better than some of the men out there. I don’t want to leave to find a husband, a man who will be a stranger.”

Desperation gripped her as she thought of ways for him to see her as a partner and not a burden.

“Your mother raised you to take your place in polite society and run a well-managed home. With the changes here in Texas, I’m not sure what our future holds. I want you protected and safe. This is what your mother wanted.”

“My mother wanted me to marry a good family in Mexico. Now you want me to marry a good American.” She stood. Taking a deep breath, she tried to remain calm. “I don’t want either, Papi. I want to stay with you on our land. This is where I belong.”

“No, it’s too dangerous, and who would you marry? There are no proper suitors for you here.” He looked at the family portrait that hung over the fireplace. “Politics have changed the country of origin, but not the intent. You will go to Galveston and find a proper husband.”

“This canyon that holds our ranch is where I belong. This is the life I want, not city streets and walls. Papi, how can you send me away?” Tears threatened to fall. She couldn’t believe he was doing this. She moved around his massive dark oak desk, which anchored the room. “Please, I’m all you have left. You’re all I have left. I can help at the cattle station.”

He looked at her. In the depths of his eyes, she still saw the clouds of sadness that formed the moment they found her mother’s body in the swollen river.

“Mija, you are my future. My life. If something happens to me, you would be all alone with no protection. If anything happened to you? I would have no reason to live.”

“We can’t live in fear. In Galveston, I’ll be alone. Please, Papi.” She moved closer to him, reaching out to touch his hand.

His body went rigid. “You can help by doing what your mother wanted. You, to have your own beautiful home, a family, children and a proper place in society. I would be pleased with grandsons to carry on our family legacy, and little granddaughters as beautiful as their mother.” His hand came up and cupped her face. “Your tears will not change my mind. When you hold your firstborn in your arms, you will thank me.”

Sofia stepped back, away from his touch. She knew without a doubt his mind was set. Unless she did something drastic, she would be sent to Galveston to marry.

She looked at the shelves with its books all in neat and tidy rows, all in their place. She did not want to be put in place. She made a decision.

Jackson McCreed was taking their cattle to market, and he had offered her a job. Her father might be stubborn, but she could match him. She would show him she brought more to the ranch than just social graces and babies. By the time she returned home, he would welcome her by his side.

“Papi, the Schmitts have invited me to go to Galveston with them for some spring shopping. I had told them no, thinking you needed me here, but maybe I should go. I could meet my cousins and look at the list of potential husbands.”

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?”