Texas Love Song Page 5

  Suddenly, McCall’s shoulder began to quiver against his, and he turned slightly to find her fighting to keep from breaking into a full laugh.

  “She’d shake the whole wagon when she jerked awake,” McCall added. “Toward the afternoon, I didn’t know whether to encourage her to talk more, or to allow her to sleep. Her talking drove me crazy; her sleeping almost killed her.”

  McCall’s hysteria was contagious, and Sloan couldn’t keep from laughing. Something about being too tired to move made it impossible to remain calm.

  She bit back her own chuckles and slapped at his shoulder. “Don’t laugh. It isn’t funny. She could have been hurt.”

  Sloan could only nod, for he knew if he opened his mouth to speak, a full roar would come out.

  She slapped at his shoulder again, trying to make him stop. When he didn’t, she buried her face against his shirt while her shoulders shook with a sudden release of laughter.

  When Sloan could finally take a long breath, McCall was still leaning against him, her cheek next to his heart and his hand resting on the small of her back.

  Without thinking, he did what he’d thought of doing from the moment he’d seen her smiling back at him from the tintype. He leaned and kissed her.

  The kiss only lasted a moment before he felt her body stiffen. She jerked away as though he’d branded her with fire and not his lips.

  “Don’t!” She moved another step away, almost falling over tree roots.

  “McCall?” He couldn’t bring himself to apologize, though he knew that he probably should.

  “Don’t,” she put her hand up as if to block his advance, “don’t ever touch me again.”

  “I…” What could he say? That he hadn’t meant to kiss her? That he was sorry? That she tasted better than he’d thought she might? He’d never learned to be so honest, or so much a liar.

  “Never. Never do that again. Do you understand?” The cold formality was back in her voice.

  “But…?”

  “I was married to a man I loved greatly; when the major died, I died inside. I never want to feel a man’s arms around me again. I never want to feel anything ever again.”

  He wasn’t sure if her words were ordering her, or him. In the watery light of the moon, Sloan could see the pain in her blue eyes. She was telling him there was no room in her life for him or any man, now or ever. Even a light kiss was too much for her to bear. “I understand, Mrs. Harrison,” he answered in a low tone, wishing he really did.

  McCall straightened, pulling herself to full attention. “There’s no need for us to use proper names. My father named me McCall after my mother’s family. You may call me McCall if you like. I need your help, Sloan, nothing more. I was out of line to become so familiar with you just now. From this point on, I think it would be better if we kept a proper distance.”

  Sloan wished it were darker and she couldn’t see him. He’d never made such advances toward a woman; when he finally had, she’d put him in his place.

  “We’d best go back to the camp and try to get some sleep.” Her voice shook slightly, and she placed a hand around her throat, as if she could steady it. “We’ll just pretend this never happened.”

  Sloan nodded but didn’t follow her as she moved toward the camp. He leaned back against the tree and took a deep breath, wondering what had driven him to do such a foolhardy thing as kiss her. She was a major’s wife, a proud southern woman with more money and respect than he’d ever—

  “You call that staying out of the way, mister?” Winter’s voice shook Sloan from his own thoughts.

  Sloan knocked the back of his head against the bark, welcoming the pain. He and McCall hadn’t been alone.

  “I seen skunks with more social skills than you, mister. Just because a lady speaks to you don’t mean she wants you to grab her.”

  “I didn’t grab her.” Sloan was about to decide the boy and the old woman were twins, accidentally born seventy years apart. Alyce Wren had taken every opportunity to advise him on how he should act, and now Winter seemed determined to do the same thing.

  “Told you I’d be keeping an eye on you. So far you seem to be having a little trouble ‘staying out of the way’ like you said you would.”

  Sloan rubbed the throbbing between his eyes with his thumb and index finger. How could he explain to the boy what had happened when he couldn’t explain it to himself?

  Winter leaned closer. “If I was you, mister, I’d give up sleeping for a while. It might be better for your health.”

  Reaching for the boy, Sloan closed his outstretched hand into an empty fist. What would he have done with the child if he’d caught Winter? McCall would probably frown on him strangling one of the children they were risking their lives to save. Besides, he really liked the kid. Winter’s intelligence seemed far beyond his years and almost matched his need to meddle in something that was none of his concern.

  Sloan walked slowly back to the camp. If he slept tonight, he wasn’t sure whether or not Winter might truly try to carry out his threat. If he didn’t sleep, he’d be the one they’d have to tie to the bench tomorrow to keep from falling out. Either way, Sloan figured he was in for more pain before this trip was over.

  Five

  MCCALL WATCHED AS Sloan circled the campsite, his path widening into the night with each revolution. She could feel his gaze on her from the shadows. He hadn’t said a word more then necessary to her in three days. She wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or angry. The man was as hard to read as a week-old trail.

  Each evening he took the first watch, promising to wake her after midnight, and each night she slept until dawn without waking. But tonight was their fourth evening out, and she knew he must get some sleep or he’d be little help to her when trouble came.

  All the others were cuddled beneath their blankets. Alyce Wren and the three smallest children were bedded down in one wagon, pulled as close as they dared to the fire. The older children circled the dying campfire. McCall had made herself a space in the other wagon, but tonight she was determined to talk to Sloan before turning in.

  His advance that first night had bothered her because she hadn’t seen it coming. She felt she’d been one of the boys so long that having a man react to her as a woman seemed strange. After the war, she’d hidden away to mourn until Alyce Wren pulled her back into life by telling her how badly she was needed. McCall took on each of Miss Alyce’s assignments like a crusader, but this mission was more dangerous than any had been. Since Alyce Wren knew everyone in Texas, she was never short of knowing someone who needed a helping hand, but she’d found the Indian children by pure chance. Somehow the old woman must feel McCall was in over her head this time. So Alyce had insisted on coming along.

  McCall picked up an extra blanket and moved from the campfire’s flickering light into the almost moonless black beyond. She needed to talk to someone, anyone, besides the old woman for a few minutes. McCall was starting to hear Alyce’s voice when she was sound asleep.

  Her boots made a swishing sound in the winter-dry brush as McCall walked into the night. She moved carefully through the darkness, knowing Sloan would find her long before she’d find him. He’d had an hour in the darkness, so he could probably see her clearly. All she had was a feeling that he was near.

  After traveling only a few steps, she heard movement to her right and knew he was making himself known so as not to frighten her. McCall waited, hoping the movement she heard was Sloan and not some animal venturing too close to the camp.

  “They call this a rustler’s moon,” Sloan whispered. “Bright enough to steal cattle, but not so bright that a gunman could draw a bead on a man.”

  McCall studied the blackness, but he was far into the shadows and she couldn’t make out his outline.

  “I’m no rustler. I only came to bring you an extra blanket,” she whispered. “There’s a chill in the air tonight.”

  “There’s a chill in the air every night,” he countered.

  “I ne
ed to talk to you,” she said, trying to keep any anger from her voice. He made no effort to take the blanket she held out toward him.

  “I figured that,” he answered. “I’ve been watching you pace by the fire, waiting for everyone to go to sleep. What’s the plan now, General?”

  “Don’t call me that,” McCall ordered and took a step in what she hoped was his direction.

  “Why not? You’ve been pushing this troop every mile. Planning down to the hour. Riding ahead each morning to mark our course and studying the maps till dark. Sherman didn’t plan his march across Georgia so completely.”

  McCall spread her fingers before her and took another step. “I just don’t want to waste any time. As soon as I get these children delivered, I have other things that must be done.”

  “Never rest, heh, General?”

  “I said, don’t call me that!” McCall snapped.

  “Not only organized, but testy,” Sloan answered with almost a laugh. “Or is being in a good mood just not on your list of things that have to be done? I haven’t seen you smile in four days.”

  She guessed now the reason he hadn’t talked to her was more from anger than embarrassment. He’d taken her cool politeness as hostility toward him. “I’m not in a bad mood and I’m not always angry.” This conversation wasn’t going at all like she’d hoped.

  “Neither am I,” he returned a lie for a lie.

  “Good, then we can talk.” She had to talk, just talk with someone, or she’d go mad by tomorrow.

  McCall extended her hand further and touched his knee. He didn’t move, but she felt his muscles stiffen. Lightly, she brushed his leg, then let her fingers rest on the rock he sat on, a huge boulder as long as a bench and twice as high.

  “We’ve been safe so far,” she said as she moved beside him and jumped to sit on the rock. “But how long will we be if you don’t get any sleep?”

  “I’m sleeping some,” he answered. His words were tight, as though her nearness bothered him, or irritated him, she wasn’t sure which. “I think we’re all safer if I stay away from the fire. That way if trouble should ride in at night, they won’t see me until it’s too late. Winter knows enough about driving the team that he can take a turn when the going is easy, and I sleep some during the day.”

  “But it’s cold out here.”

  “I’ve slept in colder places than Texas. Out here, away from all the snoring and moving of the children, I can hear better.”

  “You still need to wake me after midnight and let me take a watch. It’s only fair.”

  “Is that an order?”

  McCall could never remember a man bothering her so. If ever there was a man in need of ordering, it was Sloan Alexander, but she seemed the only one aware of the fact at the moment. “No, it is not, only a request.”

  She remembered the last order she’d given him about never, never touching her. “Sloan, can’t we relax around one another? Does there have to be a battlefield between us? We have to work together, to depend on one another. Can’t we just talk like regular people?”

  “I thought that’s what we were doing.” He paused a moment. “At least working together.”

  “But not relaxing,” she added. “Not just talking.”

  “It’s not easy.” He took a long breath. “I haven’t spent much time in the company of women. Also, how much time do we get each day between the kids and Miss Alyce? The old woman told me tonight that I made a jackrabbit seem like a great conversationalist. I don’t know when I’d have a chance to say anything anyway.”

  “I know.” McCall moved slightly, brushing his leg with hers in the darkness. “She doesn’t need anyone to do more than nod every few hours.”

  A silence grew between them for a moment, then Sloan added, “I wish you were as easy to talk to, General.”

  “Couldn’t you just treat me like one of the guys? If you’ll relax, maybe we’d find it easier. When I traveled with my husband—” She stopped suddenly, not wanting to remember Holden. How could she explain how she’d changed from a wedding dress to riding clothes? She could never tell this stranger that she’d spent her wedding night on the ground in a campsite surrounded by four hundred men. Or that Holden would sometimes go days without saying a word to her that wasn’t meant for all his men as well.

  Sloan didn’t say anything, and she knew he was waiting for her to finish.

  She couldn’t tell him of her life. How could she explain that most of the time she’d felt like she was in the army? Just one of the men, no more valued, no more in the major’s confidence than any other. Holden’s men always treated her with respect, but Holden often forgot she was by his side, even at night.

  “I don’t think I can,” Sloan finally broke the silence.

  “Can what?” she asked, forgetting her request.

  “I don’t think I could treat you like one of the fellows,” he answered.

  McCall reached across the darkness and brushed her hand over his arm. “We’ve trouble ahead, Sloan; could we at least be friends? I may not be as strong a general as you seem to think I am. This time I’m going to need someone to cover my back, because trouble may come from all directions.”

  “Friends,” he whispered, allowing the wall they’d built between them to crack slightly. “If you’ll consider that I may not be as bad as you think I am. I didn’t think I was attacking you the other night.”

  “I know.” She pulled her hand away. “I may have overreacted a little. But what I said was true; there’s nothing left inside me for any man to care about in the way a man cares about a woman.”

  “It was only a kiss,” he defended.

  “For me it was far more than I could accept.” She could never tell him how personal his act seemed to her. The major had only kissed her on the cheek a few times during their marriage, and never on the mouth. He would have thought it too personal. Holden’s lovemaking, though never unpleasant, had always seemed almost detached from their real lives.

  “Just out of curiosity,” Sloan moved slightly, turning so he faced her shadow, “how many beaux did you have before the major?”

  “None,” she answered.

  “And after?”

  “None.” She knew she was admitting that no man other than her husband had tried to kiss her. Maybe it would help Sloan understand why there could never be anyone else in her life. “How about you? How many ladies have you courted?” She wasn’t brave enough to say bedded, but they both knew what the question implied.

  Sloan laughed but didn’t say a word.

  “A thousand?” she guessed. Somehow the darkness made it easy to ask. She’d spent many evenings sitting around the campfires, talking with soldiers, but could never remember getting so personal. “A hundred?”

  Sloan pushed himself off the rock. “I don’t think we should be talking about this, General.”

  “Why not? You asked me.” McCall was suddenly enjoying herself more than she had in months. “If we’re going to be friends, we need to talk about things. My husband used to say one soldier needs to know the other well enough to read his mind. Especially going into battle.”

  “We’re not soldiers,” Sloan corrected.

  “But we may go into battle,” she countered. “So how many others have you kissed?”

  “A man doesn’t talk about the number of women in his past.” Sloan moved away, thankful for the darkness.

  “Not even to a friend?”

  “No,” he answered.

  “All right, then answer one thing.” McCall pulled her knees to her chin. “Were most of them willing, or startled victims like me?”

  Sloan moved restlessly in the shadows. “I don’t remember.”

  “You don’t lie very well.” She smiled to herself, knowing she was making him nervous. “I admire that in a man.”

  “And I’d be much obliged if we’d drop the subject of my romantic adventures.”

  McCall jumped off the rock. “All right. I guess admiration and being obliged are as go
od a footing as any to start a friendship.”

  She offered her hand. “Shake?”

  He took her fingers in his hand. “Truce?”

  “Truce,” she answered. “If you’ll wake me tonight so I can take a watch.”

  “I’ll wake you,” he promised as she pulled her hand away.

  They walked back to camp without saying another word. When McCall reached the clearing, she noticed Winter kneeling on his bedroll. He looked at Sloan and smiled as he put his knife back in the sheath he kept strapped to his leg.

  McCall glanced at Sloan, who nodded first to Winter, then to her, before disappearing back into the blackness.

  She tucked the boy in, then curled into her space in the wagon. The night was getting colder, but she preferred the comfort of the wagon to the warmth of the fire. Just before she fell asleep, she smiled, remembering Sloan’s and her talk. There would be no time to get to know him much better, but she’d enjoyed the banter.

  While she slept, Sloan moved back against the shadow of the rock. From his vantage point he could see the campfire and the clearing beyond. He knew he’d sleep a little better knowing he didn’t have to worry about Winter trying to slit his throat. He also knew he would let McCall sleep through the night.

  He wrapped the blanket she’d left on the rock around his shoulders and thought about how he’d like to wake her with a gentle touch. She might be dead inside, but she was sure making him feel very much alive.

  * * *

  Two days past Fort Griffin, Sloan spotted the first soldiers on patrol when he rode out to scout. He stayed well behind them, but followed long enough to know the direction they were taking so he could avoid their path.

  When he returned to the wagons, he told McCall about the patrol, and to his surprise, she moved into action as though she’d long had a plan she’d been waiting to implement.