Travis made it to Anderson Trading Post with no trouble. Tobin had added a brace on the floor of the wagon a week ago so that Travis could rest his bad leg, and Sage made a pad out of deer hide for the bench. He still needed his cane to walk most of the time, but Travis no longer looked like a cripple.
However, he was thankful no one sat out on Elmo's porch when he pulled up. He could take his time climbing from the wagon, and once inside he could buy the boy clothes while Elmo loaded the wagon. With luck, Elmo would go back inside before Travis had to lift himself up on the bench for the ride home.
The plan worked. He climbed back on the seat just as Elmo came out to load the last box.
"Good to see you up and about!" Elmo yelled from the back of the wagon. "How's the boy they brought in from up north last month? You McMurrays letting him out of the cage yet?"
Travis twisted as much as he could on the wagon seat. "He's doing great. The first week he wouldn't get two feet from me without throwing a fit, but Sage bribed him with cookies. Now he's running all over the place. He usually spends his mornings helping Tobin in the barn."
Elmo leaned on the wagon. "He talk?"
"Not a word. I'm not sure he even understands much English. If the boy ever knew it, he's forgotten. We're guessing he's almost four, so he must have been captured before he was two. From what I saw he was treated more like a dog than a boy while he was captured."
"Any hint as to where he might have come from?"
Travis shook his head. "Unless he can say something, we may never know. He's not dumb, though. Seems to understand a few words in both Spanish and Apache. He likes to sit by the fire, but won't get too near a horse. Tobin's working with him, trying to get him to stand a few feet closer to the corral every day, but he seems happiest when all is silent and he's close to the fire."
Elmo laughed. "He aughta be right at home with you boys. Ain't one of you'll pass more than a few minutes talking."
Travis didn't answer or take offense. He figured Elmo was just stating a fact. The McMurrays had never had much to say to outsiders.
The trading post owner headed back toward the store, then turned. "I almost forgot. You got another letter from that Sam fellow in the San Marcos settlement. Must be a good friend. This is the third or fourth one in less than two months."
Years of watching his every move, every emotion, kept Travis from yelling or reaching too fast for the letter.
Elmo took his time handing it over, examining the envelope as if it held a clue. "What do you reckon a man would have on his mind to write so many letters?"
"I wouldn't know." Travis took the paper and shoved it into his pocket. "You pack the boy clothes?"
Elmo nodded, then waited, as if hoping for more information about the letter.
"I'd better be getting back." Travis circled the wagon and headed toward Whispering Mountain. He didn't look back. He knew the trading post owner was watching from his porch. He also knew he and the letter would be the topic of conversation around the stove for the next few days.
He thought of waiting until he got home to open the letter, but knew there would be the unloading of supplies, and by then Martha would have lunch ready. Sage would follow him around asking questions. She'd want to know who he saw and what he said. Sundays were her only day to go visiting, and she usually didn't leave the ranch without one of the brothers tagging along complaining about a need to get back before they even left the property.
Travis touched the letter in his pocket. He'd written her four times in the past month. Mostly, he talked of the boy. There were so many things he wanted to say. Questions he wanted to ask. Each letter he felt he'd be a little more honest. In a strange way they were getting to know each other on paper.
With a sudden jerk Travis stopped the wagon. He could wait no longer. Glancing around to make sure no one followed, he pulled the letter from his pocket. He told himself not to let the little woman he hardly knew matter to him, but it was too late. She did matter.
Travis swore. She'd lied to him about everything, including her name. She'd stolen two horses out from under his nose and run when he'd told her to stay. He laughed. "Sounds like the perfect woman for me," he mumbled as he opened the letter.
My dear Travis. She used his first name as if they were friends and the dear as if she cared for him. Travis smiled. He would do the same if he knew her name. Strange how he knew the feel of her and not her name. He read further.
At first her account of the two women plotting a murder appeared humorous. Women planning to kill some no-good man didn't seem like it would be all that unusual a conversation. He could almost picture his fairy woman curled up in her bed by the window as she listened.
Then it occurred to him that if the barmaids were serious, and R. had overheard them, she might be in real danger. He'd noticed over the years that once a person kills, it's not all that hard to kill again.
He reread the letter. She'd left no hint as to where she was, but he knew it could not be anywhere near San Marcos. Unless the settlement had experienced a grand growing spurt, there was no alley where saloons framed in one side and three-story homes were on the other side.
Travis folded the letter into his pocket and drove home. By the time he reached Whispering Mountain, he'd made up his mind about two things. One, Miss R. could be only one place close enough and big enough to fit her writing… Austin. And two, he planned to be on his way there by morning. The least he could do was find her and warn her.
He might not be able to handle a horse yet, but he could manage a wagon. The trip would take longer, but it made more sense than staying at the ranch spending his days worrying about his fairy.
All he had to do was come up with a reason to leave, and it had to be something besides mentioning the letters.
By dawn the next morning his plan had a few problems. He'd explained that night at supper that since he'd read all the books on law for the state and he'd been enforcing those laws for ten years, he planned to take one of the wagons to Austin and sit for the state bar exam. All he needed was for a district judge to call together a panel of practicing lawyers who would ask him questions. If he made it past the panel, he could serve a short internship and then begin his own practice. Judge Gates had been trying to talk him into doing just that for several years. Maybe it was time he listened to the old man. Or, Travis thought, used the bar as an excuse to go to Austin.
While his leg healed, he had to do something, and Travis explained that becoming a lawyer would be as good a way to spend his time as sitting on the porch watching the weather.
No one in the family thought his plan sound. They also didn't hesitate to say so. Sage thought he should wait until spring when the weather would be better. Tobin said if he waited a month then the two horses he had to deliver would be ready and he'd go along. Teagen saw no need for a lawyer in the family. In fact, he pointed out that most of the lawyers he met spent more time trying to break laws rather than uphold them. Travis would only be putting himself in rotten company by passing the bar.
When his siblings saw they were getting nowhere, Sage switched strategies. "If you think you have to go now, and you're taking a wagon anyway, I might as well go along, too. All of you have said I could go to Austin as soon as I grew up."
Teagen stood up from the table and tossed his napkin down. "Whatever for?"
Sage jumped and faced him as if they were the same height. "Because I'm tired of waiting around for the perfect man to accidentally fall onto the property. I'm almost nineteen and haven't even met a man I'd consider marrying, much less one who likes me. Maybe if I go to the capital, I'll bump into one."