Jared’s lip curled in a derisive sneer. “Jack built his house there in the cave and, though it was on our land, Ben looked the other way. Jack cuts out a couple of beeves each year, but they’re never the best ones, and he doesn’t waste them. He uses every bit of the carcass. We bring him staples every few months. All he asks is to be left alone. His house is somewhat like a fortress. God knows how he gets in and out of it. You can bet we were sighted in his rifle as soon as we got into range.”
Lauren was quiet for a moment as she absorbed the story. “Why was he shunned by everyone? He couldn’t help being taken by the Indians.” She was immediately sympathetic to the eccentric hermit.
Jared watched her closely as he said slowly, “He’d had his nose and ears cut off. That’s what the Indians did to him while they mutilated and killed his brother. He’s not too pretty to look at, and people don’t like their sensibilities insulted by the sight of him.”
Chapter 12
Lauren’s hands flew to her mouth. The horrors inflicted on Jack Turner by the Comanche were incomprehensible. But the torture inflicted on him by his own people was even worse. Ben and Jared had treated him kindly. She lowered her eyes as she said softly, “You’re very charitable, Jared, to do these things for him.”
“It’s not charity. We’ll find a jar of his home-brewed corn liquor on the front porch in a day or two. It’s always left for us after we bring him something. Of course, I wouldn’t drink it for the world. It’s pure rotgut. But I’d never ignore it, either.” Ever since he could remember, Ben had ridden out to take supplies to Crazy Jack. The man must be in his seventies by now. “I wonder if he knows Ben is dead,” Jared mused aloud. “He probably does. I think he knows everything that goes on around here.” He tossed down his cigar butt and placed his boot back in the stirrup. “Ready?”
Lauren nodded and they took off again. Jared raised his bandana over his nose and indicated that she should do the same. Moving away from the river, the grass became sparse and dry, and their horses kicked up clouds of dust. Lauren was grateful for Jared’s thoughtfulness in bringing her the bandana.
A short while later, Jared slowed their horses to a leisurely walk as he entered a pecan grove. The old, massive trees, gradually losing their foliage in the change of seasons, umbrellaed the gently rising hill.
At this point, the river was wide. The bank to which Jared now led her was grassy before becoming littered with pebbles. Those tiny rocks grew into giant limestone boulders that rose like smooth tables out of the river. The swift water rushed over them, crystal-clear and gurgling.
“How lovely!” she cried. In her excitement, she swung her leg off the saddle and dropped to the ground, rushing to the riverbank.
On the opposite side of the river, there was a wall of rock much like the one Crazy Jack had built his house into. With the natural screening of the rock wall and the protective covering of the pecan trees, the setting was intimate and private despite its primitive nature.
She didn’t realize Jared had dismounted and come to stand behind her until he spoke. “The water here is fed by underground springs. That’s why it’s so clear. Come on.”
She was surprised when he took her hand and pulled her out onto the rock formations in the river. The leather gloves they both wore did nothing to dilute the warmth of the hand tightly holding hers. They walked together over the white boulders, which had been polished smooth by water washing over them year after year. When they reached the point where the water rushed over the rock, Jared knelt down. Lauren followed suit and took off her glove to place her hand in the water. “Oh! It’s so cold,” she exclaimed, laughing.
“Until you get used to it,” he said with a smile. “When Rudy and I were kids, we came up here to swim. Ben brought us until we were old enough to look out for ourselves. You see, when it rains, this tributary of the Caballo becomes a torrent. Where we’re standing now would be covered with water coming down from the hills.” They had pulled the bandanas away from their mouths, and she watched the way his chin caressed the soft cloth beneath it as he spoke. “In the spring, this looks completely different. The redbuds bloom and the bluebonnets cover the hills like a carpet.”
She listened intently and watched his hands as he gestured. He had said Ben’s name without the haunted expression that usually crossed his face whenever his father was mentioned.
She leaned over the water and cupped a handful, bringing it to her mouth. The brackish taste was terrible. She didn’t know she had made a face until she heard Jared’s chuckle near her ear.
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“Tastes bad, doesn’t it? The water is pure, but it has to be filtered through charcoal before it tastes good enough to drink,” he explained. “See where the water is bubbling up from under that rock?” He pointed and she nodded. “That’s one of the springs.”
They walked back across the rocks until they regained the riverbank where their mounts were standing docilely, nibbling the grass. As Jared went about the business of unpacking the saddlebags that held their lunch, Lauren walked up the hill to the crest. Her breath caught in her throat: The entire valley opened up beneath her. It was a breathtaking sight.
“Luncheon is served, Madam,” Jared called to her and made a sweeping bow over the blanket that served as their table.
Feeling free and uninhibited, she ran down the hill to join him. The fallen pecans and autumn leaves on the ground crunched under her boots.
Maria had packed enough food for an army, but Lauren was relieved to see that for once there were no beans. Thin slices of cold roast beef, potato salad packed in a jar, spiced peaches, fresh bread, tortillas, and sugar cookies composed their menu. They ate off tin plates the men used when on the trail. Incongruously, Maria had also packed snowy white linen napkins.
“It’s beautiful here, Jared,” Lauren said after a long, awkward pause which they filled by concentrating on their food.
“Yeah.” He munched on a piece of bread before he said offhandedly, “This is where I want to build a house someday. Right up there on top of the hill.” He indicated the place with an inclination of his chin. “I’d have the house facing the valley, and this,” he swept his hand in a broad gesture, “would be my backyard. Even if the river overflowed the banks, the house would be high enough to be protected.”
“That would be perfect,” she enthused. “I’d love living in a setting like this.”
The moment the words left her mouth she would have given heaven and earth to bring them back. His head whipped around and his eyes bore into hers, hard and uncompromising. She hadn’t meant to imply they would be living together. She had only been speaking rhetorically. Mortified, she lowered her head.
Each was painfully aware of the other and their isolated surroundings. The silence was palpable. Using her best conversational voice, acquired from years of practice entertaining guests in the Prathers’ parlor, Lauren asked, “Why didn’t you tell me Rudy was your brother, Jared?”
The question took him completely off-guard, and he stopped chewing his mouthful of food. Finally he swallowed, took a long gulp of beer from one of the bottles Maria had packed for him, and asked, “Would it have mattered?”
“His illegitimacy?” He looked at her sharply, but saw only understanding in her eyes. “No. That doesn’t matter to me, Jared.”
“Well, it does to a lot of people. That and his being half Mexican,” he said bitterly. “No one understands about Ben and Maria.”