Texas Rain Page 8

  His older brother stood first and paced in front of him. "You're alive, Travis." Teagen stated the obvious. "Stop storming around here like you're in hell."

  Travis swore and lifted his cane. "I can't seem to get rid of this. What kind of Ranger walks with a cane? I can't even get in a wagon without help, much less set a horse, so don't have me trying to dance about still being alive."

  "There are other things you can do," Sage said calmly.

  Travis turned his gaze to her. "Like what? There is nothing else I've ever wanted to do."

  "You could stay here. Help us run the ranch," Tobin said from his seat on the windowsill.

  Travis shook his head. "I can't even climb the stairs. If I stay here I'll be sleeping in the study the rest of my life."

  Sage tried again. "You could work at the Ranger office."

  Travis closed his eyes, feeling anger build inside him. Anger not at Sage, but at the world. "What would I do there? Watch everyone else go out on assignments? I'd hate that. Besides, what would I be-the cripple who sweeps up and makes the coffee? Or worse, I could limp around and remind every man what might happen to him one day."

  "Stop it, Travis." Martha's voice cracked like a whip as she entered the room with a tray of mugs. "You've never been a whiner. Don't start now."

  "I'm not whining." Travis answered. "I'm being a realist. I see no future for me. Not here. Not anywhere." He'd always thought that if he ever took a bullet, he'd recover or die, either way he wouldn't have to worry about not being a Ranger.

  Sage stood and lifted the mugs off Martha's tray. None of her brothers seemed interested in coffee, but she needed something to do. "You'll find something."

  He faced her. "What?"

  Sage whirled suddenly. "Climb the mountain, Travis. Find the answer there."

  Silence hung in the room, thick as the smell of coffee. All knew the story of how their father had climbed Whispering Mountain and dreamed his future.

  Travis lifted his cane. "How can I do that?" He smiled at his sister almost as if she'd said something funny.

  To his surprise it was Teagen who answered. "We'll carry you."

  "What? Are you mad?"

  Teagen met his stare. "Tobin and I can carry you. It's not that much of a climb. We made it several times when we were boys, remember."

  Tobin stood and set his cup down. "I'll get one of the narrow bunks from the bunkhouse. We can use it as a litter. Then you'll have something to sit on so you can stand once you're at the summit" Tobin's gaze told Travis that his little brother had seen him trying to stand and knew it was painful for him even from a sitting position. It would be impossible from a bedroll on the ground. "Travis and I could carry you up before dark and leave you to dream."

  "I'll get blankets and pack a few supplies," Martha said. "I'll not have you starving up there."

  "Wait!" Travis shouted, but only Sage turned to listen. "We need to think about this. I haven't decided to go."

  "Yes, you have," she answered. "You've no other option. You said so yourself and waiting will serve no purpose. I don't think I can stand another day of you yelling at everyone. So you're going if I have to help carry you."

  Travis set his jaw and didn't say another word. He'd never been a coward and he didn't plan to start being one now. They were right, finding out what his future held, no matter how dark, had to be better than staying here thinking he had none.

  What if he dreamed about his death as his father had? What did it matter? He felt like he was already living in hell. And maybe, once he got out of their sight, he might not sleep at all. Then he could say he'd tried it and nothing happened.

  As he waited for his brothers to return with a bed and wagon, he smiled for the first time in weeks. He'd be sleeping under the stars tonight. Alone! All this family around had been like living in a beehive. If Tobin wasn't dropping in to tell him a story about one of the horses, Sage was asking his advice, or Teagen thought he had to go over the accounts with him. Even when Travis managed to persuade his brothers and sister into leaving him alone, Martha was always about, cleaning the room or trying to feed him.

  "Ready?" Teagen asked as he walked in the study with Travis's coat folded over his arm. His gaze met his brother's. "This was Sage's idea, and I think it's a good one, but if you're against it…"

  Travis nodded once, knowing, crippled or not, no one could make him sleep on the summit of Whispering Mountain if he didn't want to. "I might as well get it over with. At this point I don't really care what my future holds, just as long as I have one."

  Teagen handed him the coat. "We can get to the mountain with a wagon, but we'll have to climb the rest on foot." He hesitated. "We'll have to strap you on the bunk, Travis."

  "I know." Travis fought down the pain as he stood and buckled on his gun belt for the first time since he'd been shot. He pulled the leather strip over the Colt to hold the weapons in their holsters. "I'll take a rifle as well."

  Teagen nodded as he pulled one from the rack by the door. "We'll build a good fire that should keep any trouble away."

  Travis grinned without humor. "Wouldn't want to take a bedroll and keep me company?"

  "No," Teagen answered in his no-nonsense way.

  "How about you, little brother?" Travis asked as Tobin walked into the room. "Camp out on the summit with me tonight."

  His quiet brother shook his head and looked away. But Travis had seen fear flicker in his eyes. A fear they all shared. Once, when they'd been kids, they'd all sworn they'd never climb the mountain to dream. They'd told one another that they didn't believe the legend. They decided it had only been a coincidence that their young father had dreamed his death the night he'd slept on the mountain.

  But today Travis saw the truth in them all. If a tiny part of each of them didn't believe in the legend, they wouldn't be climbing the mountain.

  Travis insisted on walking to the wagon now loaded down with the bed from the bunkhouse. He swore as Teagen and Tobin lifted him into the back. Neither brother took offense. They seemed to understand.

  The day was crisp with fall, the sky clear. Travis wouldn't have cared if it had been pouring rain. Now that he'd set his course, he wouldn't turn back. Because he could see no future for him beyond the walls of his study, he'd lost his fear of what any dream might reveal.

  Within an hour they reached the base of the hill everyone called Whispering Mountain. On the north side they could have ridden horses halfway up. On the south the slope was steeper, but faster on foot. No one had said anything about taking Travis up halfway by horseback. He would have had to lie over the saddle like a corpse, and he guessed his brothers had rather walk than see him like that.

  As they unloaded the gear, Travis noticed Tobin wore high-topped moccasins strapped almost to his knees, but Teagen had on boots. Travis preferred boots, also, but knew Tobin would be far more sure-footed for the climb.

  They lifted Travis out of the wagon and strapped him into the bunk, leaving his arms free. As Tobin pulled the ropes tight across his waist, Travis fought the pain.

  Tobin didn't loosen the knot. "You know, if you're going to cuss at us every time we try to help, it'll get mighty boring listening to you all afternoon."

  Travis grumbled to himself. He knew they were only trying to help.

  "Yeah!" Teagen yelled from the other side of the wagon where he was coiling rope so that it would fit on his shoulder.

  Travis wanted to suggest they forget the whole thing, but the fresh air and open sky had already lifted his spirits. "All right. No swearing unless you drop me."

  His brothers moved to the bunk. "No promises," Teagen said as he lifted a supply bag on his back and tied the ends across his chest.

  "I could hold that." Travis pointed at the bag.

  Teagen shook his head. "No chance. If we drop you off a cliff, we'd hate to lose the supper Martha packed as well."

  Travis leaned back, trying to relax as they shouldered the bunk and began to climb. The path might be too wind
y for a horse, but with the bunk braced on their powerful shoulders, they managed it. After an hour rocks made the climbing too steep to carry the bunk. Tobin took the lead and climbed to a spot big enough for the bunk, then he lowered ropes. This part of the climb went easier because Travis could help pull himself up as Teagen moved beside him.

  Three hours into the journey they stopped to rest. Teagen took a long drink from one of the canteens and said, "I don't remember this being so steep when we were kids."

  Travis laughed, remembering. "We were mountain goats then."

  "Going down will be lots faster," Tobin suggested.

  Travis nodded. "You two should make it in less then an hour without me."

  Tobin frowned. "I just thought of something, Teagen. We've got to come back and get him tomorrow."

  Travis had already been thinking it. "How about waiting until Tuesday? If I know Martha, she packed twice what I'll need to eat. I'm armed, and if you pile up enough wood, I could keep a fire going both nights."

  It wasn't a question. Travis hadn't asked permission. He needed to be alone. He waited for their argument, daring them to try and make him less of an adult.

  Teagen retied the canteen to the bed, showing no sign that he'd even heard the comment.

  Tobin shook his head, then grinned. "Sage is going to have a cat. She's been mothering you for weeks."

  "If I get in any trouble, I'll fire off a couple of rounds."

  Teagen and Tobin lifted the bunk and moved over easy ground for the last bit of the journey to the summit. Travis leaned back and watched the sky, feeling more like a man than he'd felt since he'd been shot.

  CHAPTER 9

  Travis's brothers stayed with him until an hour before sunset. They piled up enough wood for a week and checked several times to make sure everything he needed lay nearby. The bunk was close enough to the fire for. warmth, and all Travis had to do to reach extra wood was to lean behind him.

  For a while after they left, he listened to them moving down the mountain. Then all was silent as he watched the sun set. He stood by the fire for a while, but the uneven ground made it dangerous for him to move around. The muscles in his left leg were unsteady, holding his weight one moment and unable to do so the next.

  He sat on the bunk and watched the fire as the sky darkened around him. Sleep was the last thing on his mind. He'd missed the outdoors as if it were his home. He'd forgotten how good a campfire smelled in the dusky air and how alive the growing darkness seemed around him.

  Travis felt no fear. The only varmint who'd ever worried him had been human, and he'd see none of those here. The fire would keep any wild animals away unless they were mad, then they usually made plenty of noise, allowing him time to aim. He thought of how strange it was that man seemed the only creature who didn't show signs of madness before inflicting needless pain.

  He tossed another log on the fire, enjoying the warm display of colors dancing in the flames. Even if he never dreamed, the trip had been well worth it. He felt his spirit healing.

  When the stars came out, Travis lay back on the bunk and stretched his leg straight feeling the pain ease. He watched the shadowy smoke drift to heaven and thought of the green-eyed girl he'd danced with weeks ago.

  "Where are you?" he mumbled aloud, knowing no one would hear him. "I said I'd find you, and I will."

  He could almost feel her body pressed beside him. He couldn't remember what her kiss had tasted like, but the feel of it came back almost as strong as it had that first night. Her mouth had been soft and her bottom lip had trembled slightly.

  Travis grumbled. He should have told her not to be afraid. He was so used to people fearing him, he hadn't even thought of saying something. She'd been such a slip of a girl, barely reaching his shoulder. She probably thought he'd snap her in two. In truth, he wasn't sure he'd know how to be gentle with her if she came into his arms. Maybe he would hold her too tightly if he saw her again?

  "When," he corrected. When they embraced he'd remember to be careful. He'd touch her so lightly she'd think his hand no more than a breeze against her skin. He wanted to know every part of her. He'd take the time to memorize the feel of her.

  Travis turned away from the fire. He needed to stop thinking about her. He was acting like a half-grown pup, mooning over a girl. He'd held plenty of girls in his arms… hundreds. Travis reconsidered. If honest, he'd held very few. A widow crying when he'd had to tell her that her husband died. A few saloon girls who wanted him to feel their wares. A handful of hugs from women who were happy to see a Ranger arrive. Add them all up and he couldn't think of a dozen.

  That was it, he thought. How could he have gotten so old with so little time spent around women? Sage didn't count. Neither did Martha.

  Maybe the only reason he was thinking about the woman with green eyes was that he had so few others to think about. In his life there had always been a crisis, a Ranger needed somewhere. His job left little time for anything else. Could he be thinking of her now simply because he had the time?

  No, that couldn't be right. No woman had ever made him feel the way she did-made him consider things. He'd spent an hour watching the stars and thinking of what he'd say to the fairy woman when he saw her. He might not know much about women, but he knew one thing, she was different.

  Since she appeared to be one of the few women in the world who hadn't been too afraid to talk to him, maybe he should go easy on the little horse thief.

  Maybe she didn't have good sense. That would explain it.

  No, he argued with himself, she had sense enough to steal a horse out from under his nose… twice.

  He fell asleep without giving any thought to dreaming. The fresh air, the smell of the fire, the stars above made it seem like he was already dreaming. He could forget about his leg and everything he couldn't do and pretend it was just a normal night sleeping in his favorite place.

  Open space would always be his home.

  Travis slept soundly with no dream disturbing his rest. Finally, an hour before dawn, the cold woke him. The fire was almost out. He tossed logs on it and watched until a spark caught them, then he pulled the blankets around him and fell back asleep.

  The dream settled over him silently almost like a forgotten memory drifts into thought. He was sitting by a fireplace burning bright into the shadows of a room lined with books. He'd propped his left leg up on a stool, and the smell of tea brewing spiced the air. He was aware of everything around him, but it was the book in his lap that fascinated him. He noticed light blinking through the curtains, first pale dawn, then full bright, but he didn't stop reading. An excitement pumped through his blood as if he were in the middle of an outlaw capture or about to find a vital clue to solve a mystery. He didn't look up from the book, not even to watch the sun rise.

  Travis shifted and opened one eye. The morning sun blinked bright in his face. He rolled to his side and pushed himself to a sitting position. He could never remember sleeping past dawn in his life. Usually at first light he'd already downed a half pot of coffee.

  Staring at the campfire, he wished his brothers had lugged up a pot and coffee. The memory of the odor of tea in his dream came back to him so strong he swore he could almost smell it. Tea. He hated tea. One winter when he still lived at the ranch, they ran out of coffee and Martha tried to make them all drink her tea. The stuff tasted like hot water sweetened with elm bark. He promised himself he'd die of thirst before he ever forced down another cup of the stuff.

  Travis rummaged in the bag of food and pulled out a biscuit. Even cold, Martha's biscuits were great, soft and fluffy. He washed it down with water and leaned back to think about his dream.

  As near as he could tell it told him nothing about the future, except maybe one day he'd find a book that would keep him up all night. That wasn't all that unusual. Often when he was home he would read all night.

  The smell of tea could have been coming from the mixture of green wood he'd burned last night, and the fire in his dream sprang from
the campfire a few feet from the bunk.

  No magic. Nothing special about the dream. No great message. But it did feel good to think about how his father may have slept on this very spot and thought of the future. Travis was more than ten years older than his father had been when he'd climbed the mountain to dream. He realized how young his father must have been when he died. Only two years older than he was now. He remembered his father as being tall and quiet, almost like Tobin. Andrew McMurray hadn't wanted to leave his family when the war with Mexico started. Trouble had seemed a world away from their ranch. But he'd gone because it was his duty. Andrew had lined his three sons up and hugged each before he left. Maybe he didn't believe his dream would come true, but he must have worried about it or he never would have left the letter telling them what to do.

  Travis couldn't shake the dark mood that followed him all day. He used his cane and forced himself to walk around, staying clear of the fire. If he fell he could always crawl back to the bunk and pull up, provided he didn't fall into the fire. But he didn't dream he died burning. He didn't even dream he could walk again, or ride, or go back to his life as a Ranger. He dreamed he was reading.

  All his life he'd been a man of action, and now, when he supposedly had one look into his future, he dreamed of a study, which shouldn't surprise him, since he'd spent the past few months sleeping in one.

  He'd been a fool to even test the legend. It was just that-a legend, nothing more.

  By midafternoon the sky grew cloudy, but Travis didn't smell rain. He wondered if his brothers were worried about him. Sage had probably driven them nuts by now, but he knew Teagen and Tobin wouldn't come unless he fired rounds. They would give him the time he'd asked for.

  Before dark, he ate the last of Martha's bread and cheese. He checked his guns out of habit, enjoying the weight of the Colt in his hand. It felt familiar, like the night around him and the fire. He could almost believe for a time that he was whole and the world was right once more.