Page 1 of Wellspring

AMERICA.

The land of opportunity.

The land of freedom.

Erick von Hellermann knew better than to believe that unquestioningly.

He might never have set foot on these shores, but he had traveled extensively in Europe and knew that reputation rarely conveyed the reality of a place.

Even so, he hoped to lose himself in the vast expanses of the Texas plains.

In all that open space, there was surely room for one man who wanted nothing more than to leave his past behind.

The ship docked, and the passengers made their way off slowly, through the port authority where they gave their names, professions, and country of origin.

Erick struggled with the unfamiliar accents.

He read English fluently, having been schooled on Shakespeare and other classics, but he had seldom had an opportunity to speak it, and the drawled speech full of words he did not recognize now overwhelmed him.

When his turn came, he gave his name as Erick Heller, listing Bremen as his home.

A new name for a new start, and the ship had sailed from Prussia.

If Bremen was not his true city of origin, no one here would be any wiser, and perhaps the changes would slow down anyone who might come looking for him.

He didn’t think his cousin would send anyone, since his return would keep the other man from inheriting his title and estate, but Erick was not entirely sure his mother would accept his decision.

The baroness had been most disconcerted at his decision to leave home after the death of his wife and son in childbirth.

Regardless of what his mother said, that stage of his life was over.

He hoped the one in front of him would be better than the one he left behind.

“Your profession, sir?” the harbor master asked.

Erick smiled. “Cowboy.”

The man looked at the cut of Erick’s suit and the quality of his shoes in surprise, but he inscribed “cowboy” on the page next to Erick’s name.

Exiting the office, Erick paused on the edge of the docks to take in the bustling port.

In that respect, it reminded him of the port in Bremen, but the resemblance ended there.

Instead of the brisk, almost cold breeze of winter, the wind off the ocean here was already warm and humid, making Erick’s shirt cling uncomfortably to his sides beneath his jacket and his cravat feel stifling around his neck.

The sun beat down overhead on unfamiliar plants and trees, on dusty streets and rough-hewn wooden houses.

He saw none of the familiar pale stone that characterized the buildings of his former home.

The sound of a horse screaming wrenched his attention from his vague thoughts back to the present.

The animal in question reared up on its hindquarters, front hooves pawing the air as its voice cut through the noise of the harbor again.

It was a beautiful black horse, but its handler obviously had no idea how to work with it.

Not pausing to consider his actions, Erick strode toward the scene, all too aware of the crowded docks and the damage a frightened or enraged horse could do in a crowd if it escaped the man’s control.

Reaching the handler’s side, he grabbed the lead rope as it flew free, letting the horse rear once more but catching the cheek strap of the halter when its hooves hit the ground again.

He crooned soothingly in German, the calm tone of his voice far more important than the words themselves.

The horse fought him, but Erick held on, using the full weight of his body and all the strength of his will to bring the animal under control.

The next attempt to rear was half-hearted, though the horse still pawed menacingly at the ground.

Erick kept up the gentle murmurs, an oasis of calm in the chaos of the docks.

The horse responded slowly, the wild look fading from its eyes as it focused on him.

Erick continued talking, his free hand moving to stroke the animal’s neck and withers.

They quivered beneath his touch but settled when he kept the contact light and soothing.

The horse truly was magnificent. He only hoped it belonged to someone who would appreciate it.

“That’s quite the touch you got there.”

Erick glanced up to see who had spoken, his mind racing to make the drawled words translate in his brain.

“He is afraid,” Erick said slowly. “I am not. He knows that.”

“You ain’t from around here, are you?” the other man asked.

Erick shook his head, trying not to stare.

In his travels, Erick had met people of enough nationalities not to be surprised at the sun-bleached hair brushing the man’s shoulders or his tanned skin, but it was not at all typical of his home— his former home , he reminded himself.

Nor were the heavy work pants and open-collared shirt the other man wore, a scarf tied loosely around his neck, or the thin braid interwoven with small, colorful beads that dangled at one temple from below his wide-brimmed hat.

Erick suspected he had just met his first cowboy.

“No, I am from Prussia. Erick Heller at your service.”

“Cade Webster.” The cowboy pulled off a thick leather glove to offer Erick his hand. The calluses confirmed Erick’s supposition that this man was no stranger to hard work. “Shall we see if we can find this boy’s owner?”

“He ain’t got no owner.” The sailor came back to the horse’s side now that it had calmed. “His owner died during the crossing. He’ll be sold at auction.”

“I will for him now pay,” Erick said. “I will a horse need, and he is perfect.”

“He’s got a nasty temper and is too strong for his own good,” the handler disagreed, “but that ain’t my problem. See the captain about a price.”

“Has he a name?” Erick asked before the man could walk away.

“Not that I ever heard anybody use.”

“If you want to speak with the captain, I’ll watch the horse until you come back,” Webster suggested.

Erick hesitated, not sure if he could trust the offer.

“Look, mister,” Webster said. “Around here, the fastest way to get shot is to mess with someone else’s horse. I’m gonna make sure he don’t wander off or get scared again. That’s all.”

“My apologies,” Erick said with a sharp bow. “I am… unfamiliar with customs here. I will with the captain now speak.”

CADE WATCHED the man walk up the gangplank of the ship that the horse he was now holding had come off of.

It was no surprise the horse was restless.

It smelled freedom after weeks of being confined in the hold of a ship with probably moldy hay for food and who knew what for water.

All things considered, the animal was in pretty good shape, although Cade suspected Heller would have a fight on his hands getting the horse used to listening again.

If he hadn’t seen the masterful way Heller dealt with the beast—calm but firmly in control—he would have said the man wasn’t up to the task, but now he wasn’t so sure.

He might look like a European dandy, but he had a way with horses if nothing else.

As he stroked the horse’s neck, he wondered what brought Heller to Texas.

Cade had seen plenty of men arrive in Galveston with little more than the clothes on their back and maybe a trade with the hope of building a new life for their families.

He’d seen it work a time or two as well, but Heller didn’t have the same air of desperation.

The cut of his clothes and the way he had simply assumed he had the resources to purchase the horse spoke of a privileged upbringing and some degree of continuing wealth.

That only added to Cade’s curiosity. It would be his downfall, Nadua, his adoptive mother, always told him, but he wanted to find out more about the mysterious stranger.

Heller had obviously arrived only minutes ago.

Cade could offer to show him around, help him find a boarding house and maybe even a restaurant for dinner if the boarding house didn’t include meals.

He could ask a few of his questions and learn a little bit more about the man.

Heller returned a few minutes later, the horse’s papers in hand.

“Did you get it all taken care of?” Cade asked, though he already knew the answer.

“It is done,” Heller said in his funny accent. He clearly knew what he was saying, but the pronunciation was a little off, bringing a smile to Cade’s face. He handed the rope back to Heller.

“Good. Could the captain tell you anything about him?”

“The captain said Thunder is his name. This is not for a horse a good name.”

There it was again, Cade thought. The awkward turn of phrase that wasn’t quite right. It reminded Cade a little of when he’d had to get used to speaking English again after speaking Comanche for so many years. “Why not? He certainly made a lot of noise earlier.”

“Names are important,” Heller said. “With a name like that, everyone expects a loud, difficult horse, and so they make him one. Much better would it be to give him a name like…. Butterfly. Then everyone will a quiet horse expect, and so he will one become.”

“Just like that?” Cade asked incredulously. He’d worked with his share of horses and had known more than a few who were completely misnamed.

“ Nein ,” Heller said, “not ‘just like that’ but with work and patience and time, ja . Yes.”

“So his name’s Butterfly now?” Cade asked.

“Perhaps not Butterfly,” Heller conceded. “I will on the proper name for him think. Now I must a stable find.”

“If you’d like, I can show you where I kept my horse the last time I came to town,” Cade offered. “It’s run by a German couple, actually. You might enjoy meeting someone from home.”

Heller’s face tightened at the offer, making Cade wonder what he’d said wrong. “Texas is home now. Prussia is in the past, where it will stay.”

“There is another stable,” Cade said, “but I don’t think it’s as clean or as well-run as the one where I kept my horse.”

“Clean is important,” Heller said slowly.

“I could take him there for you,” Cade said, not sure why he suddenly cared so much about not letting this man out of his sight. “That way you’d know he was taken care of without having to be reminded of ho—where you came from.”

Heller hesitated a moment longer, clearly torn. “ Nein ,” he said finally. “There is no reason to avoid others from Prussia.”

It seemed an odd concern. Cade took any opportunity he could to visit with Comanche when he came across them, but he didn’t know what had driven Heller across an ocean, so maybe their circumstances were different enough to explain it. “Come on, then. I’ll show you where the stables are.”

“First must I for supplies arrange,” Heller said.

“That’ll mean a few days in Galveston,” Cade observed. “Let’s get your horse settled and then we’ll see if we can’t work out the rest.”

“Why are you me helping?” Heller asked suddenly as they walked down the street toward the stable. “You know me not.”

“Because you have a way with horses.” Cade gave Heller the acceptable part of the answer. He kept his growing fascination to himself. “My boss is looking for a couple of new hands, including a new bronc buster, on the ranch. I thought you might be interested.”

Heller stayed silent for so long that Cade worried he’d committed some kind of breach of etiquette when Heller finally looked at him again. “I might be interested.”