“Jared is Ben’s son, Miss Holbrook,” he answered patiently. “Didn’t Ben ever mention him to you?”
Lauren laughed easily. “Oh, yes. He told me he had a son. I don’t recall if he told me his name, though.” Her smile faded into an expression of genuine concern. “He’s ill?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Travers said gruffly, taking her arm more firmly as they descended the steps to the ground below. Lauren saw a long, flatbed wagon parked several yards ahead of them. The green paint on its sideboards was faded and peeling, the wheels mud-splattered. Its two horses were grazing at a tuft of grass under the enormous pecan tree.
Another horse, a palomino of magnificent proportions, was tied to the end of the wagon. Proudly he tossed his blond mane as if protesting the indignity of being hitched to such a lowly vehicle.
“Apparently, Miss Holbrook, Ben sent young Jared for you, and he came from Coronado last night. This morning, when he became incapacitated, he asked me to escort you to his home. I’m afraid the trip won’t be very comfortable. I apologize, but this was the best conveyance I could find on short notice.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She smiled. Ed Travers became dizzy under the radiance of her face and gentle voice. Then he cursed himself for being an old fool and hastened toward the wagon.
The depot manager assisted Lauren onto the rickety seat. As the porter dropped her bags unceremoniously onto the rough floor of the wagon bed, she heard a muffled moan.
She gasped in surprise when she saw the long figure sprawled on his back in the wagon. “Mr. Travers!” she exclaimed. “Is he seriously injured?”
“No,” he answered. “Only a little indisposed. He’ll live, though he may soon wish he were dead.” He mumbled the last few words, and his meaning escaped Lauren.
She settled herself as best she could on the uncomfortable seat. The
brown leather was cracked. At intervals where it had ripped open, the stuffing poked through in hard lumps. The rusted springs groaned under her slight weight. She kept her gaze focused on the road ahead.
“I must run back inside for a moment, Miss Holbrook, and speak to my assistant. If you’ll indulge me, we’ll be on our way without further delays.” Ed Travers doffed his hat again and turned back toward the depot. The porter shuffled after him.
Lauren sighed. Well, it’s not the greeting I expected, but it’s novel, she thought. Then she smiled with the sheer joy of being in Texas and almost at the end of her journey. Had it been only three weeks since she last saw Ben? It seemed like eons. So much had happened since he had visited her guardians and issued the impulsive invitation for her to come to Texas.
They had all been in the parlor of the parsonage. Lauren was pouring tea, which was one of her chores when Reverend Abel Prather and his wife, Sybil, entertained. Guests visited often with the middle-aged couple, who had opened their home to Lauren when her clergyman father died eight years ago. She loved the Prathers, though she realized they were unenlightened about anything outside their sphere. Most of their callers were either other ministers or parishioners.
Their guest on that particular day had been unique. Ben Lockett had served in the Confederate Army with the young Chaplain Prather during the last three years of the war. Their philosophies differed greatly, but the two men enjoyed each other’s company and found pleasure in taking opposing sides of any debate, whether over the strength of the Union Army or predestination.
After the war, Ben Lockett had left his native Virginia for unknown parts of Texas. He was of a breed of ambitious, angry young men who defiantly carved empires out of the vast plains of Texas. In the forty years since the War Between the States, Ben Lockett had become an influential cattle baron.
Lauren was intrigued by the imposing Texan. He stood tall and lean, with only the slightest paunch to indicate his advancing years. His hair was thick and snowy white, brushed back from his wide, deep forehead like a crest. Blue eyes twinkled merrily from under shaggy white eyebrows, as if he were perpetually amused by the world. But Lauren observed that Ben was capable of a piercing, glacial stare if his emotions dictated it.
His voice was deep and mellow when he said to her, “Tell me, Miss Holbrook, what you think of Texas. Like most Texans, I feel that everyone should be as enthralled with my country as I am.” He stared at her from under the shaggy brows, but it was a friendly look.
“I… I don’t know that much about it, Mr. Lockett,” she replied honestly. “I’ve read about the Alamo, and I know that the state was once a republic. The rest of my knowledge is confined to the penny-novel book covers that I see on display at the general store. They depict train robberies, cattle rustling, and saloons. I don’t know if that is a true characterization or not.”
Ben threw back his head with its shock of white hair and roared with laughter. The booming sound rattled the china figurines that cluttered every conceivable space in Sybil Prather’s overdecorated parlor.
“Well, we have our share of train robberies, and I’ve frequented a few saloons myself, begging your pardon, Abel. I’ve even chased a few rustlers all the way to Mexico.” He paused. “Maybe the pictures you’ve seen are accurate at that, Miss Holbrook.” He studied her for a moment longer, then challenged, “Why don’t you come back to Texas with me and see it for yourself?”
There were several startled exclamations.
“Ben, you’re joking, of course! I’d forgotten what a tease you are.” Abel laughed.
“Let my Lauren go to Texas where Indians live!” Sybil cried. The ruffles covering her ample bosom quivered with distress.
“What an utterly preposterous suggestion!” came from William.
William. Yes, William Keller had been there, too.
Lauren shuddered, even in the stifling heat. She pushed the thought of William out of her mind. She wasn’t going to let the memory of him ruin her reunion with Ben Lockett.
Another groan, accompanied this time by a mumbled curse, diverted her from her reverie. Hesitantly she swiveled her head to look at the ailing man. Her eyes lighted first on an ornately tooled saddle, with filigreed silver decorations glittering against the black leather. Her bags were at the back of the wagon, near the man’s feet.
He must be very tall, Lauren thought as she quickly scanned the length of the prone body. Her initial impression was that he was lean and well proportioned. After that first hasty appraisal, she began at his boots and studied the figure with increasing fascination.
The black boots were of smooth leather and came to just under his knees. Tight black chinos were tucked into the tops of them. Lauren blushed at the perfect fit of the pants, which contoured the long, muscled things like a second skin.