San Antone. V. J. Banis

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ they had left South Carolina. Even the things that had happened he saw through a haze like that blurring the far-off Texas horizon. His senses, his entire being, everything was focused on their destination.

      San Antonio. A half-million acres, to make a new Eaton Hall, the biggest, grandest plantation anyone had ever seen, and he its master. Rice growing as far as the eye could see, farther, even. And cotton, too; he’d brought cottonseed, enough to grow what they needed, anyway. And fruits and vegetables; they’d need to look out for themselves, obviously, with San Antonio far more isolated than they had expected. Lucky for them all, he’d had the foresight he did.

      Joanna and all her lessons, he thought scornfully; a lot of good her geography books had done them. He had made up his mind, there were things he meant to put his foot down on. All this learning business. And the way she’d changed since they’d left home; half the time she acted like she’d forgotten she had a husband.

      Of course, he had to give her her due, she’d done a good job of managing things. Not that a woman wasn’t supposed to help; that was her job, wasn’t it? A helpmate. Obviously she hadn’t found that in any of her books, or taken the time to study its meaning. Too clever by half for her own good, Joanna was.

      Well, yes, he could feel admiration for her. And disappointment at the same time. He didn’t know why he always felt cheated when she handled everything in that level-headed way of hers, like she’d taken something from him to do it.

      His throat was dust-dry. He reached for the flask in his vest pocket and caught a movement out of the corner of his eye: Joanna, watching him.

      Dammit to hell, always waiting for him to fall on his face—you’d think she was expecting him to. It put a curse on a man, made him trip despite himself.

      “Watch out,” she said.

      “I see it.” He snatched the rein in both hands and wheeled violently around a boulder, making the wagon rock violently. “You could wreck us, shouting in my ear that way. I’m not blind, you know.”

      Admiration and disappointment. Now, what kind of a man could make a marriage out of that?

      Take their wedding night, for instance. Wouldn’t you think a woman would be glad for a man who knew what he was about? Wouldn’t you think experience would be a good thing at a time like that?

      But, no, there was Joannie, just looking at him in that way of hers, cold, unforgiving. He could still see that look in her eyes— maybe he had ought to have put out the lamp, but, dammit all, a man did like to watch.

      Disappointed, yes, even on their wedding night. He had known that before he was even done, had seen in her eyes that he had done it wrong, and how the hell would she know...? No, wait, that wasn’t right. It was him that was disappointed, had been all along....

      There was a sudden crash and the wagon gave a lurch. The oxen bellowed.

      “What the hell....” Lewis leaned out to see, and almost fell from the seat—the heat made a man dizzy, God Almighty.

      They had broken a wheel. Despite Lewis’s insistence that the others push on, the whole train ground to a halt.

      “It was that fella in front of me,” Lewis said, angry because everyone seemed to be blaming him for the delay. “Kicking up a dust storm, you couldn’t see hand in front of face.”

      “You’ve been driving all morning,” Joanna said in a sympathetic voice. “Why don’t you rest awhile out of the sun and let me drive?”

      “Makes a man thirsty,” Lewis said, taking out his flask and drinking; he cast a defiant glance around, but no one seemed to have paid any attention.

      He demurred at first, but Joanna pointed out that women were driving in some of the other wagons, and would be throughout the trip. “And I’ve got Gregory up here if I get tired,” she added.

      Lewis found a patch of shade on the far side of the wagon and sat sipping from his flask while the lieutenant’s men saw to changing the wheel. By the time they were ready to start up again, Joanna had convinced him to climb inside out of the now scorching Texas sun.

      In no time, he had fallen asleep.

      * * * *

      Joanna quickly learned that handling a team of oxen over the rough ground was a far cry from driving a buggy or even a farm wagon in South Carolina. Her arms ached, and she began to sympathize with the thirst that had plagued Lewis. The sun beat mercilessly on her, despite the protection of the sunbonnet she wore, and she was covered from head to foot with the dust of the trail. Gregory crawled into the back of the wagon and fetched her a dipper of water, but Joanna was too aware of the importance of stretching their water supply to have more than a few sips.

      “I’ll drive if you want,” Gregory offered.

      As welcome as a period of respite sounded, however, she declined. For all his willingness, Gregory was little more than a boy; it would not take long for him to be exhausted as well. It was not yet even midday, and so far none of the other wagons had changed drivers.

      “I’ll drive till we stop at noon,” she said, and was soon wondering if she could stick to that promise.

      Just when she was beginning to fear she could go no farther, there was the clatter of hoof beats alongside, and the Indian, William Horse, rode up to the wagon. It was the first she’d seen him since they had set out, or in any case, she hadn’t noticed him. He was dressed indistinguishably from the cowboys—the same dugris, which seemed to be standard for everyone but the soldiers, with a kerchief at his throat, and atop his head one of the wide-brimmed Stetson hats, the practicality of which she could now more fully appreciate.

      He tipped his hat toward her and then, as gracefully as a dancer, leaned sideways from his horse, slid from the saddle, and, while her breath caught in her throat, leaped to the wagon and was sitting beside her.

      “I will drive the wagon for you,” he said matter-of-factly.

      “Oh, but that’s not necessary...your horse....”

      “He will follow, he is an Indian pony,” he said, and without further ado, took the reins from her.

      She smiled, too weary to pretend she wasn’t glad to have them go. “I am grateful,” she said.

      His face remained expressionless, but he nodded, and concentrated his attention on the team. It was immediately evident that he knew what he was about; you almost fancied you could see the oxen falling into step, shedding the lackadaisical manner with which they’d followed her plaintive suggestions.

      Gregory was more than grateful; he was soon leaning back and forth, one time in front of his mother and the next behind her, fairly threatening to topple her from the seat while he plied their working guest with an endless stream of questions: “What kind of trees are those? Is it always this hot and dry? How long can the horses travel without water? Is that really an Indian pony? Did you catch him wild?”

      Joanna was certain she’d never heard her son so voluble. After a while, his voice faded into a sort of droning noise, and the heat seemed to lessen; she could actually feel herself growing cooler....

      The gentle touch of a hand on her shoulder brought her back— she realized with a start she’d been about to pass out.

      It СКАЧАТЬ