Brazos Bride
Chapter Two
"This is my last chance." Micah Stone put the power of his back into scooping a shovel full of moist earth and tossing it aside. "Blast, it seems we've been digging forever. If we don't hit groundwater soon, I'm finished for sure."
Mired ankle deep in the muck of a dried up spring, Micah fought to keep his balance while he talked to his brothers, Zach and Joel. "Too far to keep hauling barrels of water from your land, Zach."
Zach barely glanced up. "Even that isn't enough to keep you going much longer."
They'd hit damp earth, but no water to speak of. Not enough to sate the thirst of his herd, that was for damn sure. Just enough to cling to the shovel and his boots and make digging that much harder.
Zach leaned on his shovel and stared at the dying cattle hugging the fence between them and water. "Damn Montoya to hell for getting himself killed before he let you cut a path to the river. If not for his orneriness and damned inconvenient death, we wouldn't be forced to scoop out your spring for a few buckets of water."
Some said Micah and his brothers were alike, but he couldn't agree. Each was tall with gray eyes and black hair, but personalities made them very different. As youngest, Micah had grown up fast in the War and later worked in the Rangers with his brothers. He'd hated being on the move and the gunplay his former life required.
Micah had finished with killing, had vowed never to shoot at another human. Not after the incident that still haunted his nightmares. All he wanted was to be a peace-loving rancher. To turn this little spot in Texas into a haven, a place he could put down roots and someday start a family.
Zach was the tallest and best looking of the three Stone brothers. If ladies were nearby, they always smiled at Zach first. Not that he noticed. He had his own spread a few miles west with good grass and water, but not enough to support Micah's herd along with Zach's and Joel's.
As the eldest brother, Joel was the most serious of the brothers, yet still hadn't decided when or where he wanted to settle or if he'd choose politics. He smiled less than Micah or Zach, but a better man than Joel had never been born. Joel had led Micah's defense in the dark hours Micah had been falsely accused and jailed for killing Alfredo Montoya.
Whatever people thought about the Stone family, Micah admitted he'd have been lost without his brothers' help these past few months. Though Micah loved this land, he was close to surrender. He'd filed on his section and bought an adjoining section from a man pulling out. Now Micah wondered if he should have left too.
Scrub oaks and mesquite trees dotted acres of dried up grass. An occasional stand of live oaks offered more substantial shade but not much relief from the dust. High, wooded hills of the Palo Pinto Mountains were visible on the western and northern horizons. The nearest large peak was Stone Mountain, the location of Zach's ranch. The ravines held nothing but cedars and sand, and there was no water hereabouts until the Brazos River. Montoya's five strands of barbed wire denied Micah's cattle access to that river.
At the other side of the current excavation, Joel ceased digging and flexed his shoulders. "With this much mud, we're sure to hit water soon." He took a swig from his canteen and cast a glance at the endless blue overhead. "Not a dad-blamed cloud in sight. Hellfire and damnation, is it ever gonna rain?"
"Nothing here but dust and heat. Even a good breeze would help." Against his will, Micah followed his brother's glare at the relentless summer sky, but movement caught his attention. "Rider coming. Lord, I hope it's not more trouble." He'd already had his fill and then some, more than enough to last this lifetime.
He soon recognized John Henderson, owner of the local newspaper. Micah leaned on his shovel and watched John gallop across the parched range. When John reined in near the brothers, he took off his hat and swiped his handkerchief across his forehead.
"Scorcher again today. Found water yet?"
Micah shook his head. "Nope, nothing but mud. Gotta be water under it somewhere." Micah tugged his hat brim lower to shade his eyes while he looked up. He assessed John's business clothes then met his friend's gaze.
Joel spoke before Micah could. "You here for the newspaper or being sociable?"
In spite of the fact that most locals still considered Micah guilty of Alfredo Montoya's murder, the Henderson family's friendship had won them Micah's undying loyalty. John was among the few locals who'd publicly defended Micah's innocence and had offered support before the acquittal two months ago.
John tucked his handkerchief into his pocket. "Delivering a message for you from Hope Montoya."
Micah's gut clenched. "For me? From...from Hope Montoya?" He never thought he'd see the day she contacted him.
Her name fit her, and hope fit his part of their relationship. Not that Hope knew they had one. Micah cursed himself for pining after a woman he could never have, but he couldn't help longing for the graceful, elegant beauty.
"Yep. Hope's in town visiting Theresa. Waiting for you at our place."
"Waiting for me?" Micah knew he sounded like a damn fool, repeating everything John said. "What for? I haven't seen her since the trial."
John shook his head. "Don't know. I've been married to Theresa long enough to give up trying to figure out women." He fished an envelope out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Micah. "Reckon it says in here."
"Dang, John, this thing's so sweaty the ink's likely run together." Irrational joy spread through him. Hope had written him a letter. Micah opened it and took out a single sheet of damp paper. He read the delicately formed script.
Mr. Stone,
I know you are desperate for water. It is urgent that we meet today. I await you at the Henderson home. Please return to town with John so we may discuss a solution to your water problem and to a problem of my own. Please come! Urgency and discretion are essential.
Hope Montoya
Urgency essential? That damn sure described his need for water, but what kind of problem could she have?
Micah lowered the letter and looked at his brothers. A glimmer of light blossomed in his heart, but he didn't dare relax his guard. Disappointment had pummeled him too many times.
"She wants me to meet her at the Hendersons' right away and discuss a plan to get water for my cattle. Maybe she's convinced her Tio to honor her father's agreement after all."
Joel stomped on his shovel and dug into the muck. "Lord, I hope so. Get going and see what she has to say."
Zach looked up and winked at Micah.
Accustomed to their eldest brother giving orders, Micah let Joel's advice slide off him. Micah looked down at his mud-caked clothes, took in his body's reek. "Don't reckon the lady would approve of me tromping in looking and smelling like I do."
John shook his head. "Neither Theresa nor Mama would appreciate you showing up in the parlor like that. Best knock off at least some of that mud."
"Yeah, I'll go to the cabin before I ride into town." Micah set his spade against a scrub oak. His weary muscles protested the extra weight of the mire hugging his boots. He beat at his denim britches and stomped a few clods off his feet, then climbed onto his horse. He reined in near his brothers. "You two coming?"
Joel shook his head. "You're the one who's been mooning after her. Besides, she didn't invite us. I'll stay here and keep at this. Slim and Bert'll be back from Zach's place soon with the water barrels. No, wait." Joel paused in his digging and turned to Zach. "You ought to go along in case this is one of her Tio's tricks."
Zach rubbed his chin while he thought it over, slapped Joel on the back. "Hate to interrupt this much fun, but it couldn't hurt to cover Micah's back. Some of his good neighbors might take him being alone as a gift." He leaned his shovel near Micah's and mounted his horse.
Micah and Zach rode off, with John trailing them. Back at the cabin, Micah peeled off his shirt and dunked his head, shoulders, and arms into the horse trough. Zach did the same. After a hasty change of clothes, they followed John into town.
In his mind Micah went over the words of her note. Urgency and discretion are essential. Again he wondered what new problem had arisen that forced Hope to contact him. Not anything financial. She'd inherited one of the largest ranches in North Texas and the fat cattle that grazed there. Probably had a bank full of cash, too. He tried to think of something else serious enough to trouble her.
The Good Lord knew he had a desperate need for water. Even with his brothers' help, how much longer could they hold out? Seeing his cattle die daily from thirst when the river lay only a quarter of a mile across Montoya land ate holes in his heart.
Shaking his head, he concentrated on weaving his way through other riders and wagons on Radford Crossing's main street. The town was growing, and boasted boardwalks in front of the few stores. The Mercantile looked busy with two wagons being loaded with supplies. As they passed the saloon, Micah heard someone pounding out a cheerful tune on the piano.
No one called a friendly greeting to him and Zach, or even smiled. Sheriff Ryan, who stood talking to another man, watched with narrowed eyes as the two Stone brothers rode by. No doubt the sheriff still believed Micah guilty of Alfredo Montoya's murder, regardless of the trial's verdict.
Micah ignored the glares of several people they passed. Instead, he wondered what it'd be like seeing Hope again. Did she believe he'd killed her father? Had she listened to all the talk against him? By the time they arrived at the house where John and his wife Theresa lived with John's parents, Judge and Mrs. Tom Henderson, Micah's misgivings almost outweighed his curiosity. Although a circuit judge had ruled at Micah's trial, Judge Henderson packed plenty of influence hereabouts and had spoken in his defense.
John rode around to the Henderson barn, but Micah and Zach stopped at the hitching post near the front gate. Micah dismounted, then took off his hat and slicked back his hair with his fingers. Dang, he wished he'd made time to shave. Both he and Zach looked more like they'd come to rob the bank than visit a fine lady in Judge Henderson's home. He stood staring at the gray frame house, wondering why Hope needed his help. He registered the white gingerbread trim across the porch's roof, the white rail across the front, the two chairs near a wooden swing, the bowed window on the house's other side.
Zach started through the gate, then stopped and turned. "You rethinking this, or you going in?"
Micah gathered his courage. "We've come this far. Let's see what she has to say." He strode up the walk, onto the porch, and knocked.