Texas Angel, 2-in-1 (48 page)
“I can use the time to work things out.” He was less convinced.
“I understand. . . .” her voice quavered.
“I am so sorry I can’t just . . . make it all go away,” he blurted in frustration. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you I don’t care, that we can just go on as if Kendell Hearne wasn’t hanging over us like a specter. I wish I could say I could live that way. I wish I could just say, ‘I forgive you’ and that could be the end of it. But . . .” He shook his head.
“I know you can’t. I don’t ask it of you.”
“I cannot share you even with a specter,” he tried to explain, though she had asked for no explanation.
“I know.” Her eyes filled with moisture, making them look like sable washed in rain.
“I’ll be back.” He forced himself to look into those eyes, though he feared he might be tempted to lose himself and all his problems in them.
“Will you?” Her lower lip trembled, and she bit it as a lone tear dripped down her cheek.
He could not give her the assurances she wanted. Though they both knew he’d be back physically, if for no other reason than for his children, he could not say if he’d return for her.
B
ENJAMIN ARRIVED IN SAN FELIPE
without having sighted Micah on the trail. The boy had covered his tracks amazingly well, though an occasional forgotten sign had indicated that he was heading south. The obvious place for the boy to try to join the army was San Felipe.
Once there, Benjamin spoke with a few men he knew, but none had seen Micah. The town, however, was fairly chaotic these days.
“Many men have taken off for Gonzales,” the storekeeper told Benjamin. “Austin is forming an army there.”
“Still seems pretty busy in town,” Benjamin observed.
“Others have come here to manage the new government.”
“New government!” This was astonishing news, momentarily jogging Benjamin from his personal woes. “When did that happen?”
“It ain’t formal yet, I suppose,” the storekeeper said. “Austin is still claiming that the rebellion is just to uphold the Constitution of 1824, which Santa Anna has been playing pretty fast and loose with lately.”
Benjamin leaned against the counter and accepted a cup of water from the clerk. “I suppose Austin is trying to hedge his bets.”
“Well, there’s a long row to hoe yet before we get our independence and mighty big odds to beat.”
“David against Goliath,” remarked Benjamin.
“That’s right.”
“My son may be in the midst of it all if he has his way.” Benjamin drained the cup, wiping a sleeve across his damp lips. “You are sure he didn’t stop in here for supplies?”
“It’s been a fair piece since I’ve see the boy, Reverend. Can’t say as I’d recognize him.”
Yes, Micah had sprouted considerably since first coming to Texas. “I guess he looks a lot like me. Tall for his age and rangy in size. Light hair like mine only with considerable more red in it. His eyes are blue, like mine . . .”
Benjamin let his words trail away, for they had begun to get choked in his throat. How alike he and his son were. It was both sad and ironic. They could have had so much together as father and son. But now, it seemed, they had nothing. All Benjamin’s efforts to repair his past mistakes had been to no avail. He had lost his son, and not just upon the trail.
“Sorry, Reverend. All I can say is if he’s bent on joining the action, he’d probably go to Gonzales.”
“Thanks. I’ll head that way myself.”
Wearily, Benjamin headed west toward Gonzales. If there was an army being formed, he had no doubt that’s where Micah would have gone.
He wondered, not for the first time in the days since leaving home, what good it would do to find Micah. The boy hadn’t listened to him since he’d stopped beating him. As this occurred to Benjamin, he realized for the first time that he had indeed stopped whipping Micah, though he hadn’t consciously done so. He hadn’t taken him behind the barn for a couple of months, not because Micah hadn’t deserved it on many occasions, but rather because Benjamin had simply lost the heart for it. The beatings hadn’t done any good. The cessation of them had done no good either.
Benjamin felt completely helpless to keep his son in line and feared this present search would in the end prove futile. If he found the boy, nothing short of knocking him unconscious and binding him would probably get him to come home. Once home, nothing short of imprisonment would keep him there. Nevertheless, Benjamin felt he had to try.
Perhaps there was more to it than that. As he’d told Elise, this quest might largely be for the purpose of deciding his own future, not his son’s. And again his thoughts turned to Elise.
Still, he had no clear concept of what to do. He fleetingly considered forgetting about Micah, who was bound to follow his own mind anyway, and setting out for South Carolina. He would find Kendell Hearne and force him to sign an annulment. It seemed a simple, straightforward matter. But something told Benjamin that it would be far from simple confronting the man who had once loved Elise and then cast her off to a life of the vilest shame. Benjamin had already killed or been a party to killing two men who had harmed Elise. What would he do if he came face-to-face with the man who had started the path of anguish for the woman Benjamin loved? Just thinking about the man made him tremble with rage.
What kind of monster must this man be to have allowed his wife and child to be sold into degradation and dishonor? He deserved death! Yet shouldn’t Benjamin feel a small kinship with this man? Hadn’t Elise deceived him also? Perhaps Benjamin could understand a bit of Hearne’s pain and anger.
No. There could and should be no forbearance for what that man had done. Yet wasn’t Benjamin considering doing the very same thing— turning Elise and her child out to a fairly certain fate?
But she deceived me! he silently cried.
Even as his heart swelled with hurt and anger, he was confronted with another reason for not going to find Hearne. What if Kendell Hearne had repented of his actions and desired his wife and child to be restored to him?
That thought sent paroxysms far different than fury coursing through Benjamin. What he felt now was fear—true, staggering fear. But he had to face that possibility whether he went to the Hearne plantation or not.
How could a man be so torn? Wanting her desperately, yet at the same time filled with such pain and anger he wanted to push her away. Desire warred against revulsion. Pardon against condemnation.
More than three hundred Texians had marched to Gonzales and were calling themselves “The Army of the People.” Benjamin arrived in time to see the army forming ranks under the command of Austin, who himself had arrived two days before and had wrestled the ragtag force into a semblance of order.
They were planning to march within the hour on San Antonio, the locale of the most formidable Mexican presence in Texas. At the fore of their ranks was the banner emblazoned with the defiant words
COME AND TAKE IT
. Benjamin learned this was the very flag used in the Battle of Gonzales several days before. Despite his own inner conflicts, Benjamin was stirred by the sight. And he thought it quite apropos that the very cannon from Gonzales was being pulled by two yokes of Texas Longhorn steers.
In the mayhem of an army about to march, Benjamin despaired of finding his son, especially since the ranks seemed to be swelling by the minute as new recruits arrived. He saw Haden first, and only then realized he might have done better to have looked for his brother all along. Micah was mounted on the chestnut gelding right beside his uncle.
It took some courage for Benjamin to ride up to the pair. He prepared himself to eat whatever pride he had left.
“Haden,” he called loud enough to be heard over the din of voices, the stomping of horses, and the rattle of arms. He had to call again before he was heard.
Haden turned in his saddle. “Benjamin!”
Benjamin maneuvered his mount close. “You look surprised to see me.” He glanced briefly at Micah.
“Well, I—”
“Are you taking a fourteen-year-old boy into battle, Haden?” Benjamin could not help his deprecatory tone.
“No one’s
taking
me!” retorted Micah. “I’m going on my own.” He directed defiant eyes at Benjamin, echoing the battle cry of the army, “Come and take it!”
“There wasn’t much I could do to stop him,” Haden said reasonably enough.
One look at Micah proved the truth of Haden’s words. Benjamin used the only argument he could think of. “You are too young for this, Micah. Why, you are worrying Elise half to death. You know she cares about you.” As do I, but he could not say the words.
“You’re gonna have to drag me back,” Micah challenged.
Benjamin took off his hat and wearily combed his fingers through his damp hair. Finally, drawing upon all the humility he’d learned in the last months since Rebekah’s death, he turned to Haden. “Haden, can’t you reason with him?”
“I tried, Ben, I honestly did. But look around.” He swept a hand toward the ranks of the army. “There’s plenty of boys here. Texas needs anyone who can shoot, and Micah can shoot, better’n me if the truth were told. Let the boy go, Ben. I’ll look out for him, I promise.”
Like you looked out for Rebekah, Benjamin thought, eyeing his brother critically.
Haden must have understood that look and what lay behind it for he replied, “I know I’m not the most responsible man around, but I swear I love this boy as if he were my own. I’ll protect him with my life. I would have done the same for Rebekah, but I could not intercede in the very workings of nature.”
Benjamin’s jaw tightened, and his breath caught in his chest. Suddenly he let the breath out and relaxed his jaw. Though a small part of him still wanted to blame Haden for Rebekah’s death, he reminded himself he had come beyond such accusations. He also knew mere men could indeed only do so much to protect those they loved. It was wrong to ask more.
“I know . . .” Benjamin said softly. “I know, Haden.”
He thought sadly how he’d lost his brother as he’d lost his son, and he could do nothing about it. A man can change his ways, but that doesn’t always mean past damage can be repaired. Sometimes the wreckage must stand as a reminder to do better in the future.
“So I can stay?” Micah asked. Did he not yet realize Benjamin had no control over him? Or was this his small way of binding up some of the damage?
“Yes, but . . .” Benjamin glanced at Micah. How he wanted to embrace him, but their horses, not to mention miles of fear, separated them. “Take care of yourself.”
In that moment, Colonel Austin issued the command to march. Benjamin stood still as the sea of horses and men surged forward. He had to take a tight grip on his reins, as the mare seemed to want to join the march.
“Not now, girl. We have other battles to fight.”
He stood there until the entire army passed him by. “Dear God, please protect my boy. I may have lost him, but your eye will always be on him, and you will never lose him.”
Benjamin reined his mount around and headed back to San Felipe. He had no idea what he would do once there. On the way he encountered many riders going to San Antonio to join Austin. Maybe he should join the fighting after all. Elise might be weak, but she could no doubt handle the children alone. At the moment, fighting in a war seemed preferable to going home and humbling himself once again.
Dear God, how much humbling can a man take?
He camped a day’s easy ride from San Felipe. He built a fire, made coffee, then with cup in hand he stared into the dancing flames of the campfire. All he could think of was the cold expanse of life apart from Elise, the void he would feel bereft of her sweet inner beauty, her dear wisdom, her tender heart. Those had been the very things that had helped guide him back to God. Without her he might still be mired in the depths of his self-abnegation, his shame, his misery. She had said he gave her back her life, but she had done the same for him.
Perhaps that’s what made it so hard to forgive her now for her lies, because they threatened to tear down what he had so painfully achieved.
“Howdy, stranger!” came a voice from beyond the brush.
“Hello,” Benjamin called in reply. He didn’t relish the thought of company, but one could hardly be unneighborly in the wilderness.
A horse came into view, led by the visitor. In the growing twilight he could only vaguely make out the appearance of the man, but he seemed harmless enough.
“Saw the fire and smelled that coffee, and, well, I figured fightin’ could wait another day,” said the rider. “Mind some company?”
“No, you are welcome, of course.”
The man hobbled his horse, then came forward and hunkered down in front of the fire. It was then, as the flame flared in response to Benjamin laying on another chunk of wood, that he saw clearly the face of his guest.
“Mr. Fife! Is that you?” Benjamin exclaimed.
The man blinked as his eyes adjusted to the flickering light of the fire. “Well, it sure is. And you might be—? Why, if it ain’t Reverend Sinclair!”
“And they say Texas is a big land,” Benjamin said wryly to the man who had guided him and his family to Natchez nearly two years ago.
“Seems a rather small world now, doesn’t it?” Benjamin refilled his cup and handed it to Fife. “I’m afraid I have only one cup.”
“That’s kind of you, Reverend, but I have a cup.” Fife opened his saddlebag, which he had carried from his horse, and removed a tin cup.
Benjamin filled the cup as he spoke. “Looks like you made it to Texas after all.”
“Well, I got to thinking more and more about this place after leaving you and your family,” Fife replied, pausing only for occasional sips from his cup. “When I got back to my place, it just seemed so old and so familiar. I came there looking for adventure, but all the adventure was gone. Why, I had neighbors less than two miles from me! I felt ready to see what else was out there. And now I get here and find not only a new land but a war as well.”
“Yes, that is most unfortunate.”
“After a fashion I suppose it is, but I’m a mite ashamed to say it is exciting, too.”