The Desires of Her Heart Read online

  Something dark was brewing behind Quinn’s eyes. He was coiled like an overly tightened spring ready to snap. He is as angry as I’ve ever seen him.

  “Looks like the Mexican soldiers are just like the Spanish,” Ash drawled. “They want all the Indians to be in the mission system.” Somehow he made these lazy words a bitter accusation.

  “But they let the Indians go?” Dorritt pressed him. It didn’t make sense.

  “The soldiers just keep burning them out—over and over until they finally give up and go to the mission and become peons,” Quinn said, tightly controlled outrage evident in every sharp syllable. Suddenly, he looked at her as though she were the enemy. The look made her feel as if he had slapped her face, she put her hand to the imaginary sting.

  Then Quinn said something short in Spanish to the vaqueros. He turned with them and rode off toward the cattle which had dispersed in the commotion. Quinn didn’t look back at her. She sat still, absorbing Quinn’s rare show of anger. Had it been at her? She closed her eyes, thinking of soldiers driving her from her home and burning it to the ground. Life in New Orleans had no doubt been cruel, but she had been protected by wealth. But not here.

  Mr. Kilbride told his wife he was going to speak to Mr. Anderson. Ash gave Dorritt an unreadable look and rode off toward the cattle too. Wanting to seek out Reva, Dorritt made as if to get down from the wagon, but her mother stopped her with a hand on her sleeve.

  “Dorritt, I am very concerned over this. Your stepfather is not a patient man and this could delay us.”

  Dorritt didn’t want to discuss Mr. Kilbride now. She needed to make sense of this. “Mother,” she chose her words with care, “why have you changed? When you speak to Mr. Kilbride, you seem so much stronger…”

  “Yes, I do feel stronger. I feel as if I’ve awakened from a long sleep—like Rip Van Winkle.” Her mother mentioned the recent story they’d read together in New Orleans.

  “Why did you wake up? I mean what changed?” She’d had never really talked to her mother like this.

  Her mother stared down at her gloved hands in her lap. “Over the past days, I’ve done a lot of thinking, a lot of remembering. My father wanted sons. He had five daughters. He never paid us the slightest attention. Our mother died. He adopted the orphaned son of a cousin as his heir. Unmarried daughters can’t inherit land.” Her mother’s tone was bitter. “We were all married off as soon as we were of marriageable age. My father made me hate myself for being what I was—a female. And more so as a female who couldn’t give her husband a son.”

  Dorritt considered this. She wanted to say, but why did you do the same to me? Why didn’t you love me? A glimpse from her childhood flashed in Dorritt’s mind. Her much younger mother was sitting in green grass under a flowering cherry tree, humming and braiding a daisy chain for Dorritt’s hair. You loved me then, but not later. Dorritt made herself speak truth, “I’ve always felt all those years ago when father was killed that I lost you too. You were never the same. Why did you change?” Suddenly Dorritt couldn’t bear to hear her mother’s answer. What if it was her fault? Dorritt muttered an excuse and hurried away from the wagon. She ignored her mother’s call to wait, her heart pounding.

  As she rushed off, their wagon train, just behind the Andersons started off again. The Mexican soldiers rode on one side along the length of the combined train. Their forbidding presence made Dorritt uneasy, deeply uneasy. She let the wagons move farther ahead of her. There was only one person she wanted to talk to. But Quinn wouldn’t thank her for turning to him here and now. She chafed at the scrutiny of so many eyes. Yet compelled by a force she couldn’t resist, she worked her way to the end of the caravan where the cattle plodded.

  In the dusty rear, Quinn slid down from his horse and fell into step beside her as if he had been waiting for her. She glanced around. They were alone, the cattle and dust separating them from the caravan. And all the prying eyes.

  “Should I be worried about these soldiers?” Dorritt asked.

  “I wish I knew,” Quinn replied. “With the change of government in Mexico City, Stephen Austin might have lost his right to bring Americans into Texas. I always thought it was a stupid idea, anyway. Inviting Americans into their territory is like inviting a bear into your house.” Quinn’s voice was derisive.

  It even stung her. “You don’t have a very good opinion of my people. Or should I say our people? You told me your father was an American. That makes you an American too.”

  Quinn shrugged, looking nettled. “Your stepfather. Mr. Anderson. They don’t look at me as an American.”

  “They wouldn’t be the ones to decide.” Dorritt paused, a sudden thought hitting her like blinding sunlight. Pulse racing, she went ahead, as reckless as if she had nothing to lose from saying exactly what she felt. “Why don’t you buy land in the Austin settlement? You could set up your ranch and breed your horses and raise a herd of cattle. If the Andersons’ sons can do it, why not you?”

  Quinn gave a bark of a mean-sounding laughter. “Because I’m half Cherokee and because I’m a leatherstocking. They don’t want my kind in their Anglo settlement. And I’d rather live with scorpions.”

  She ignored his dark words as bright hope streaked though her. “If you are useful, as you were today at the village, Americans would tolerate you. I mean they’ll need someone to speak to the Spanish and speak to the Indians. If they need you, they will let you in. Americans may be many things, but they are always practical about getting what they want.”

  He sent her a look of loathing. “I don’t want to be useful or tolerated. I don’t want to have anything to do with them. Maybe my idea of raising horses, breeding mustangs, and thoroughbreds is just stupid. I will never settle down. Never belong anywhere.”

  “It’s not stupid.” Why couldn’t he see it? It was suddenly so clear to her. “I feel like I’m changing. God is here, working on me. When I left New Orleans, I had hoped that this trip would be His way of setting me free, free of my stepfather. But I—”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What has God got to do with this trip?”

  Dorritt felt completely inadequate to answer this. She felt like she was feeling her way through a strange room in the darkness. But with a new, a strange, hopefulness. “I don’t know.” I don’t. She lowered her voice, “You have caused me to change for the good. All good gifts come from God, and you have been a gift. You…have protected me.” You have kissed me.

  “And in doing so, I haven’t made Kilbride my friend.”

  “God can change us and we can change the way things are—”

  He interrupted her, “If God is on this trek with us, I’ll believe it when I see some evidence of that.”

  Feeling inadequate, Dorritt tried again. “You could belong in this new settlement. You could be a man of property—if you only believed that you could. If you had land, people would have to respect you.”

  “Respect me like they respect your father?” Quinn almost sneered at her. “That’s what you don’t see. God can’t make me want the respect of people who would respect such a worthless man.”

  Dorritt gripped his sleeve. Stop it. “I’m just trying to show you a way out.” A way for us to be together. “Don’t you see that?”

  He pulled free. “There is no way out. No way in. I will always be outside. Always.” He turned away, swung back up onto his horse, and was gone. She stared after him, hurt by his words, yet hurting for him, too.

  She pressed her fingers to her temples and then glanced forward. Her stepfather was venting his wrath at the soldiers by snapping his whip behind the first wagon—as if that would change anything.

  Ash rode up and swung down beside her. “You all right?”

  Looking away, Dorritt brushed away the start of tears. “This awful dust.”

  “Quinn looked mad.”

  Dorritt swallowed and cleared her throat. Maybe Ash could help. “I was just trying to open his eyes. Help him see he could have a life her
e in Texas. Why can’t he buy land in the Austin settlement?”

  “Because he’s half Cherokee.” Ash swatted away a fly.

  “He could overcome that. He’s got skills and knowledge Americans will need to prosper here in Texas. Don’t you see that too? Are you as blind as Quinn?”

  Ash rubbed his chin. “You might have a point, but I doubt you’ll ever get Quinn to see it.”

  “Why?” She began to feel weak, wrung out like a rag. No doubt a reaction to the sudden excitement that had gripped her.

  “Because he doesn’t want to be useful. He doesn’t want his mother’s blood to be overlooked. And he doesn’t see in himself what you see in him. He doesn’t understand how much a man he is. He needs something someday and soon to show him, prove it to him what he could have—if he was willing to reach out and take it.”

  Dorritt didn’t know what to say to this. She understood a little of what Ash said. But compared to her situation as a spinster, as a man, Quinn could break free. She’d told him how. And he’d rejected it out of hand. She sighed and brushed away a stray hair from her eyes.

  “What do you want in Texas, Miss Dorritt?”

  His question took her by surprise. But she didn’t follow her first inclination and decline to answer. “I want to be free of my stepfather. I want to be a free woman. And I want Reva to be free and with me.”

  “You can be.”

  Irritation buzzed inside her. “I can’t. I’ll never be free.”

  “That’s what you think. Just like Quinn thinks he’s not a man who can be landed and respected. But you watch and see what happens. I think soon everything will turn out just right. Yes, soon may come the first day of freedom for many.” Without another word, he pulled the front of his hat brim and swung back up into his saddle.

  Dorritt walked, looking down at her dusty moccasins. Why did the world have to be the way it was? And why was she always on the wrong side of where power and freedom lay? What did Ash mean that freedom was coming soon? Didn’t he know how foolish that hope was? In New Orleans not so long ago, I thought I was going to be set free. And I was wrong. So very wrong. She didn’t like feeling this way, but Quinn’s complete rejection of her words burned like sand in her eyes. God was on this trek with them. She had felt herself changing. Her mother was changing. Father, show Quinn you are here.

  Thirteen

  Kilbride’s frayed temper broke at twilight. Quinn had watched Kilbride let the worrying escort of soldiers work him into a fever. The man’s voice had become more and more shrill, his motions jerky, as if something were stinging him over and over. And why not? The day before, Dorritt had embarrassed Kilbride in front of the Andersons. And now the Mexican army was forcing him to go to San Antonio, far from the Austin settlement. Of course, Kilbride would want someone to pay for everything going from bad to worse, but who? If Quinn had liked Kilbride at all, he would have had some sympathy for him. But Kilbride deserved no sympathy. And now he proved that in front of God and everyone.

  “Reva! Josiah!” Kilbride called near the main campfire. Everyone within hearing turned to watch, even the Mexican soldiers. There was almost a frenzy in the man’s tone. He sounded like a man who’d been in bad pain too long and could no longer bear it.

  Quinn moved forward, his long rifle at the ready on his shoulder. Everyone gathered around the campfire, just as Kilbride had intended. The man wanted an audience. For what? Was he going to try to hurt Dorritt’s maid? And in that way, hurt Dorritt? Quinn’s gut tightened, recalling how short he’d been with Dorritt. Yet, there was nothing he could do to stop this.

  Looking skittish, Reva walked slowly forward, her nervous eyes on her master’s face. Josiah, one of the seasoned ox drivers, slouched forward, his thumbs in his belt. He did not look at Kilbride. Quinn glimpsed Dorritt at her mother’s side.

  “It’s time, Reva, you had a husband,” Kilbride said in an oily tone, which made a mockery of kindness. “I’ve been remiss in not providing one for you. Just because your mistress has never found a man to her liking doesn’t mean that you should remain unmarried.” He looked at Dorritt as if taunting her.

  Quinn saw Dorritt open her mouth to speak. But then she closed it and looked down at the ground. What could she say?

  “Josiah, your wife has been dead for nearly a year. Reva is your wife now.” Kilbride looked at Reva and gave her a dreadful smile. “I expect a baby within a year. As the Good Book says, be fruitful and multiply.” Kilbride chuckled.

  Quinn wanted to wipe the terrible grin off the man’s face.

  Dorritt moved forward, obviously ready to object. But Ash stepped up to Kilbride. “I don’t think so.”

  Kilbride turned away, ignoring Ash.

  “Indentured servants cannot be forced to marry. And since there is no slavery in Texas,” Ash raised his voice and let amusement creep into his tone, “—you can’t force Reva to marry Josiah.” Ash repeated this in Spanish so the Mexicans standing around watching would understand too.

  Kilbride swung back. “This is not any of your business—”

  Ash cut off Kilbride by turning to the Mexican captain, who had drawn closer to the fire. Ash raised his voice to ask him a question in Spanish. Quinn hid a grin. Leave it to Ash. The captain replied shortly. Then Ash smiled at Kilbride. “The captain agrees with me. You can’t force an indentured servant to marry against her will.”

  Kilbride began to sputter.

  “But since you want to find Reva, a really fine-looking woman in my opinion, a husband, I think we can take care of that.” Ash turned to Reva. “I was intending on proposing to you tonight and then on buying your indentured paper from Kilbride. I don’t like having to propose to you in such a public manner. But, Reva, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  Silence. Just the lowing of the cattle, nickering of horses, and the crickets could be heard. Then Kilbride exploded, “No!”

  Ash ignored him. “Miss Reva, what is your answer?”

  “Yes, my answer is yes.” Reva came quickly toward Ash and took his hand. “Yes.”

  “Well, one yes would’ve done it,” Ash drawled with a wide grin.

  Quinn heard Dorritt give some sort of gasp and choke. It twisted his insides. He began to move closer to her. Kilbride would lash out.

  “I said no!” Kilbride yelled. “I forbid it. I will decide what happens to my slaves!”

  Quinn had become used to Kilbride’s angry outbursts and red face, but this time the man’s whole body shook with his fury. And the man’s eyes were wild. Quinn was afraid he would make the mistake of trying to physically attack Ash.

  Ash turned to the Mexican officer and spoke in Spanish again. When the Mexican officer responded with a short “No,” Ash turned back to Kilbride and Quinn edged farther forward. “I just explained all this to the captain and asked him if slavery is now legal in the new Republic of Mexico. You heard his answer. And I know you wouldn’t want to break any laws here in the Republic of Mexico, would you?”

  Quinn gripped the butt of his long rifle. Would Ash push Kilbride too far? Quinn kept watch on Dorritt from the corner of his eye.

  Ash grinned. “Now, Mr. Kilbride, why don’t you get out that metal box with the indentured papers? Then we can prove to the captain here that you’re not doing anything illegal, like, say, bringing slaves onto Mexican land. And I’ll pay you Reva’s indenture sum.”

  Kilbride did not move an inch. He shook and stammered and reached for his pistol. But Ash was too quick for him. Before Kilbride’s pistol cleared his belt, Ash had his pistol out and aimed within inches of Kilbride’s forehead.

  It was as if everyone drew in the same shocked breath. Quinn heard it and felt it in his own chest. He moved forward and then halted. Ash knew what he was doing. Still, Quinn slid his long rifle into his hands, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Why hadn’t Ash let him know what he intended to do? The answer was quick and clear. Kilbride had forced Ash’s hand.

  “Now, we have a situation here,” Ash dr
awled, staring into Kilbride’s wide eyes. “I know you’re just concerned for Reva’s welfare. You’re not really angry with me for proposing to her and for being willing to purchase her freedom. From her indenture, that is.” Ash scanned the crowd surrounding Kilbride, Reva, Josiah and himself. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

  Kilbride followed Ash’s gaze and stiffened when he realized that not just one gun was aimed at him. Along with Quinn, the Mexican soldiers and the two vaqueros were aiming guns at Kilbride. His red face went pasty white, almost gray. The man swallowed and twitched.

  Quinn worried the Andersons might push in and cause someone to get shot. But the Andersons had faded away. Then from the corner of his eye, Quinn saw movement. It was Dorritt going to the wagon. His brave Dorritt opened the concealed panel and lifted out that metal locked box. With downcast eyes, she carried it to her stepfather and held it out to him.

  Quinn moved forward, ready to strike Kilbride down with the butt of his long rifle if the man lashed out at her.

  A great shudder shook Kilbride. But he pushed his pistol farther into his belt and pulled out his chain with the key. With barely controlled hands, he opened the lock and lifted the lid. “You find her paper.” Kilbride’s voice was rough with fear and fury.

  Dorritt turned the box toward herself and then knelt by the fire. She looked at each of the papers in turn and then drew one forth. “Here it is.” She rose and handed him the single sheet. Quinn shifted, ready to defend her.

  As Kilbride took the indentured paper, his hand shook.

  “What is the indenture price?” Ash asked as if he were merely passing the time of day. Ash could do that. It was something Quinn had always liked about his friend—cool under the gun.