A man of legend, p.5
A Man of Legend, page 5
Farrel’s hatred went far deeper than she’d known.
The fight today had proven it. Her brother had frightened her. His violent tendencies seemed to come more frequently and persisted longer as he aged. They’d just buried the only one able to control him. She shuddered to think what might happen now.
Her mother’s voice whispered in her head. Listen to your heart, Paisley. Be strong. Don’t let your father and brother destroy you too.
Paisley stood at the window and pushed the curtains aside. The wet, gray landscape reflected her mood. It was all more than she could bear.
The door creaked open, and Tye slipped inside. Sadness oozed from him. He huddled on the floor, resting his head against the side of the bed.
She went to him and knelt down. “Hey, sweet man. Is something wrong?”
The four-year-old pressed his face into the length of quilt hanging down.
“You can tell your aunt Paisley. Maybe I can help.” She pushed back his hair that had gotten too long and kissed his cheek. “When I was a little girl, I used to get scared and sad a lot. Do you know what I did to make myself feel better?”
Raising his face, the boy shook his head.
“I used to tell myself stories about people who knew magic. A good witch was a favorite one I used a lot. She could mix up potions and cast spells, and she always made me feel better, more powerful.”
“Could she make big people stop being mad?”
“She sure could. She threw some fairy dust on them, and they stopped hollering.”
“What was her name?”
“Jinx. She was my best friend.” Until Paisley grew out of her make-believe world and discovered there was no one except her mother to protect her from ogres and bogeymen. She sat beside him and lifted Tye into her lap. “What kind of magical person would you like to create?”
He scrunched up his face. “A wolf that can sometimes be a scary man.”
“Do you mean a man that changes into a wolf?”
“Yes. With red eyes with fire coming out and big teeth. Mean people would run.”
The kid was way too young to know about such. Who had he heard it from?
“I see. Who told you about these wolf people?”
“Bobby.”
Hilda’s eleven-year-old brother. She might’ve known.
“Who are these mean people you would scare? Are you talking about anyone we know?”
Tye nodded. “He’s real mean to my mama and makes her cry.”
It took her no time to figure out it was Farrel. He didn’t try to hide his sharp tongue and quick blows. It broke her heart that too often Tye was on the receiving end, and the poor kid was now searching for some way to fight back.
“I know, honey.” Paisley put her arms around his frail body. “Big people aren’t always nice. But sometimes they still love us.”
His set mouth said it all. “No, they don’t.”
She gave up the argument that wasn’t worth it. Plus, Tye was right. “Hey, let’s give our werewolf some awesome power. What will he be able to do?”
“Eat the bad ones.”
The answer also disturbed her. He was too young to be thinking about killing.
“Let’s think of other things first.” She was quiet a moment. “I know. How about if your werewolf can make big people real little? And what if he makes them squeak like a mouse instead of talking?”
Tye laughed. “That’s funny. He would run around looking for a hole but couldn’t find one. And then Lucky would step on him.” The bit of laughter added welcome color to his cheeks.
“Tye? Where are you, honey?” his mother called from the hall. “Please answer me.”
The boy put his arms around Paisley and held on tight. Whatever had happened still terrified him. It wasn’t like him to hide from his mother though.
“He’s in here, Hilda” Paisley shifted and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay. I promise. Remember, we have power.”
He leaned back to look up at her. “It’s a secret. Don’t tell.”
“I won’t. Cross my heart.”
A smile formed, erasing some of his sadness.
Her dark hair curling around her face, Hilda opened the door and relaxed when she spied him. “There you are.” Her dimples were nowhere in sight.
Her sister-in-law came closer, and light from the window revealed a red place on her jaw where a fist had connected.
Paisley turned to Tye. “Sweet boy, I’ll bet Lucky wants to play fetch. He’d be so happy if you went to throw a stick for him.”
The frown returned, and he shot a glance to his mother.
“Honey, we’ll be right here. Some sunshine will be good for you,” Hilda assured him.
“Okay. Lucky wants me to pet him.”
“Yes, he does.” Paisley helped him up. “But don’t go far.” The holes on the place were dangerous.
Once, she heard the back door shut, she focused on her sister-in-law. “Sit down, Hilda. We need to talk.”
“Farrel will get mad. Everything is fine. Really.”
Paisley gave a soft snort. “I can see that.” She took Hilda’s hand and pulled her down beside her. “How long has this been going on?”
The woman looked away, twisting her hands. “It started about a year ago and has gotten steadily worse. Farrel means well. I’m clumsy and forgetful and way too slow to see to his needs. It’s really all my fault. I should try to do better.”
“Stop.” Paisley put her palm over Hilda’s and kept her voice soft. “Stop making excuses for him. You’re not to blame for this, so stop.”
A long sigh escaped Hilda’s mouth. “I don’t know what to do. He gets so angry.”
“I think a long visit with your mother is in order. Put some space between you and Farrel. Let him think about what he’s done. My brother is far from a nice, calm, gentle man. He has violent tendencies and always has, just like our father. Don’t let him destroy you and Tye. Leave and go to your mother’s.”
She’d once met Hilda’s mother and disliked her instantly. Nothing ever suited the woman or was good enough. She complained about everything. But maybe losing her husband with three kids to raise had made her that way. Other than her mother, Hilda had no other kin to turn to.
Hilda shook her head. “I can’t. Mama said I made my bed and now I have to lie in it. She warned me from the start about Farrel, only I wouldn’t listen. I wanted to see the best in him.”
That was human nature—especially when tender feelings were involved.
“Then protect yourself by whatever means are at your disposal. An iron skillet can leave some damage.” Paisley watched Tye through the window playing chase with Lucky. The boy didn’t seem to have much energy. “Are you sure you and Tye aren’t drinking the water? He still seems so listless.”
“I’m positive. We only drink what’s hauled in.”
“Good. I guess it takes time to leave someone’s system.” Paisley patted Hilda’s hand. “I’ve always wondered something. Why did you marry my brother? Didn’t you see what he was like?”
“Honestly, I didn’t. Maybe I didn’t want to. Farrel hid his true self until long after we were married. It’s odd, but he treated me nice. Bought me things. We talked of the future like we had one. Then he changed and got mean, and I discovered what I’d gotten into, but by then it was too late.”
“That’s true with a lot of us. Don’t blame yourself.”
“I can’t help it. Now I have Tye to protect.”
“Other than leaving or taking a skillet to Farrel, I have no advice.” Paisley squeezed Hilda’s hand again. “I’ll do whatever I can, but that’s not much.” She was just as frightened of him. If only Jinx were real and had magical powers. Only Paisley had grown up now.
“Thank you.” Hilda got to her feet. “I’ve got to get dinner on and keep an eye on Tye.”
Paisley sat on the floor for a long while after Hilda left, thinking about everything and nothing. If she left, Hilda and Tye would be all by themselves. If Farrel hurt them more, she couldn’t live with that on her conscience.
Yet if she stayed, her own life was in danger. What to do warred inside her.
Finally, all the sadness leaked out, leaving her limp. She rose and opened her mother’s journal. The next page had a recipe for lemon chess pie. Only the directions were a bit odd. It directed the cook to squeeze the lemon into a bowl and section five eggs.
Section?
That made no sense. Had her mother gone completely daft?
The next page had a recipe for sour dough starter. It too was strange, with instructions to seek counsel before adding the sugar.
She gathered the journal and went into the parlor.
Farrel glanced up from the newspaper with a frown. “What?”
“I was reading Mama’s journal, and I’ve come across several very odd entries that I don’t know what to make of.”
“That thing ain’t nothing but an old woman’s garbage. I read it, and you can throw it away for all I care. Ain’t worth nothing to us. Not worth one hill of beans to anyone. Mama was stark raving crazy.” He turned back to his newspaper. When she didn’t leave, he snarled, “Don’t start on me about messing up Crockett’s ugly face. He had a butt-whooping coming.”
“He can take care of himself—even while unable to see.” She perched on a straight-backed chair and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m more concerned about Hilda and Tye. Why do you have to be so mean to the ones you’re supposed to love? Stop hitting them.”
A pair of strangers rode up outside. Farrel stood and glanced out the window, putting on his hat. His piercing eyes sought hers, and she wanted to shrink from what she saw, but she didn’t move a muscle.
“Are you telling me how to treat my wife and son?”
She straightened her shoulders. “No, I’m saying I’ll get the sheriff next time.”
An angry growl sprang from his throat, and he took a step toward her. “Threaten me and you’ll end up in a wooden box. Don’t think having family blood’ll save you.” He shook his fist. “Stay out of my way!”
Cold fear danced through her, but she didn’t blink. Not even when he gave her a shove and stomped past. She didn’t release her breath until her brother slammed the door and went to meet the strangers. A glance outside showed him grinning and shaking hands, then they hurried toward the back.
Chills around her spine turned to ice. A bad omen.
She was helpless to stop whatever Farrel planned but would sure try.
***
Dr. Thorp cleaned and rebandaged his eyes, and already Crockett was encouraged by the blurred shapes and faces he could see. After Doc left, Crockett went out to sit in the sun on the sprawling porch that stretched across the front of his house, glad to have his own space on the ranch as well as in Quanah, thirty miles west, where he worked.
The town, named for the famed Comanche chief, came near to washing away in a flood the year after winning the county seat election in 1890. Then came a fire three months later that destroyed a good deal of businesses. Fair to say, the residents showed remarkable resilience, rebuilding bigger and better after each disaster, and maybe that’s what Crockett most liked about the town. They never gave up no matter what calamity beset them.
Perseverance said a lot about a town—and a man. For Crockett, if there was one glimmer of a chance, he’d keep trying to win Paisley back.
The warm rays did little to fix the simmering irritation at himself. He shouldn’t have let Farrel get under his skin, leading to the fistfight that he had no hope of winning. He knew better.
However, to back down would’ve been the coward’s way out. That was never Crockett. He was a Legend, and going full bore was in his blood. The Legend way was riding straight through hell, taking his licks, and coming out the other side with the problem fixed.
Yet Farrel had disrespected his own father by starting a fight at the funeral, and that seemed far worse than Crockett throwing down the gauntlet.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden porch, and the rumbling in the visitor’s throat before he spoke belonged to his dad. “Doing some thinking I see. Your mother gave me the lowdown.”
“Yessir.” Crockett’s lips formed a slight smile. “It sure felt good though to get in some blows. I just wish I had been able to see.”
“At the end of the day, do you think you made anything worse?”
Crockett was silent in thought a moment. “Nope. Yet I can say with certainty it’s no better either.”
“Then don’t let it bother you.” Houston let out a long sigh, his boots scooting against the wood floor. “We do our best to get through. Sometimes we have regrets and wish we’d done things different. But it’s a win anytime we can say we didn’t make the situation worse, so pat yourself on the back. Over the years, I’ve had a lot of both kinds. You live to be as old as I am, you’ll probably say the same.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’ve been mulling it over, and I don’t think I could’ve changed the outcome. Farrel was spoiling for a fight and has been for years.” A moment’s silence curled between them like the smoke from a pipe. “What do you think is going on over there?”
“Wish I knew, son. They haven’t worked the land in quite a while and everything has fallen into ruin.”
“How do you suppose they’re getting money to live on?”
“Good question. Find that out and you’ll have all the answers.” The chair squeaked when Houston stood. “I have a little more work to do before dark. See you at supper.”
Crockett sat listening to the calls of birds and the distant bawling of cattle. He had to find something to do or he’d go crazy. Where was that special ranger with the Cattle Raiser’s Association? They needed to start investigating Joe Mahone’s death. The sooner they determined what happened, the faster they could put an end to Farrel’s outrageous and unsupported claims.
A shadow crossed Crockett’s bandaged face. For a crazy moment, he fought down panic. Being blinded by the smoke had made him vulnerable.
But someone was there. He could feel them watching, could hear their breathing.
He forced firmness he didn’t feel into his voice. “Who’s there? Speak up.”
Six
“Judge, it’s me. Julia Bishop” came a soft voice. “I brought Race with me, sir.”
His law clerks. Their identity settled, Crockett relaxed. “Miss Bishop, you’re a welcome sight. You too, Race. Well, not exactly ‘sight’ since I’m unable to see at the moment.” He motioned them forward. “Sit with me. I was just thinking how much I needed something to do. I’m about to go mad. I prefer staying busy, and this inactivity is killing me.”
The air fluttered as the pair took chairs next to him on the wide porch.
Race Grant had applied for a job about a year ago. Julia had been with Crockett even shorter than that. Both were top-notch, and his courtroom had run smoother with their skills.
“How are things in Quanah?” He tilted his face toward where he thought they’d sat.
“Pretty peaceful,” Julia answered. “Chief Quanah Parker and three of his wives visited the Matador Ranch and made the news. The reporter took a nice picture of them at Ballard Springs.”
The old Comanche was living the good life these days and taking full advantage of the press. But then being friends with the president came with all sorts of benefits that the shrewd chief was quick to grab.
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” The fragrance of sage and wildflowers drifted on the breeze. Crockett inhaled the scent that brought some measure of peace. Spring brought rebirth over the land—even though it was rife with discord and falsehoods.
Race Grant interrupted his thoughts. “We didn’t know about the trouble until we got here. The telegraph your father sent simply asked us both to come.”
“What happened was no accident.” For the next few minutes, Crockett gave them a brief version of the events. “Doc says with luck I should regain my vision in a week or so. I’ve taken a month’s leave to focus on recovering.” He paused a moment. “I need to work. But first, could I offer you some refreshment?”
When both clerks declined, Crockett leaned forward. “So let’s get to it.”
Over the next several hours, they went over Crockett’s docket, deciding which cases could be postponed. The urgent ones would have to be assigned to another judge. Then they worked on the current files Crockett had already begun hearing.
“I think we made good progress. How long do you propose being out?” As always, Julia’s cultured voice spoke of education and refinement that seemed incongruous with her impish reddish-brown curls and tinkling laughter. At twenty-six, with her share of beaus, it puzzled Crockett why the pretty woman had never married.
He pondered her question before he answered. “I should return in some capacity within a month, but I expect I’ll be traveling between my office in Quanah and the ranch for quite a while.”
Who knew how long before things would settle down with Farrel? If ever.
The feud showed no signs of abating. One fact remained. The best shot seemed with Paisley.
And who better than Crockett to extend an olive branch? Their previous relationship gave him better insight into her. Or did it? Maybe he only wanted to think so. He hadn’t done so good lately.
“When you get back to town, I want you to check the land records and see who holds the deed for a section of land here on the Lone Star. Telegraph that information to me here.”
“Sure, Judge.” Julia took down the information, and judging from the rustle of paper, she had begun to gather her things. “I’ll do it right away.”
