Page 6 of Wellspring

THE RIDE out of Galveston was a revelation for Erick.

He knew Texas would be different from Prussia, but he was unprepared for the magnitude of the difference.

Everywhere he looked he saw something new, from the trees with moss hanging in graceful, haunting lines from their branches to the birds to the warmth, so different from early spring in Prussia.

He couldn’t seem to stop gawking like an uneducated child, but he wanted to see and understand everything all at once.

Fortunately his companion seemed happy to answer his questions, explaining about the live oak trees with their Spanish moss and the seagulls and pelicans and the fact that this was typical weather for early March but would get much warmer soon.

It did cool off in the fall and winter, he assured Erick, sometimes even snowing in the hill country and farther north.

The last was a relief as far as Erick was concerned.

He didn’t care as much about the snow as he did about knowing there would be some break from the heat and humidity.

The first half of their day’s trip involved the not so simple task of getting off the island.

Erick kept a tight rein on his horse despite the animal’s clear desire to run, not knowing where they were going and too worried about all the traffic, pedestrians and carriages, carts and wagons like the one Webster drove, to allow the horse its head.

Not to mention, the saddle he currently occupied fit his body completely differently than what he was used to.

Rather than keeping him perched atop the horse, back straight, body poised perfectly, this saddle rose high in front and behind him, leaving him with the odd feeling of being surrounded, cradled even.

It would definitely take some adjustment.

They ate lunch on the road, Webster passing Erick a couple of ham biscuits, shortly before they crossed a bridge over brown, silty water to the mainland.

If Erick expected a city like Bremen or even one like Galveston, he was mistaken.

They passed a few weathered wooden buildings surrounded by unfamiliar greenery as the road branched off north and south, but they continued west, and before long Webster’s wagon was the only conveyance heading toward the lowering sun.

Erick’s horse clearly took issue with the plodding gait of the draft horses, tossing its head in frustration as Erick tightened his grip on the reins.

He wondered how long it would take them to reach their destination at this slow pace.

He was about to ask when Webster brought the wagon to a halt.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“No,” Webster replied, “but we’ll need to make camp eventually, and it’s never too early to start looking for a good spot.

It’ll be two days before we reach Houston, and the only towns between here and there are too small to have a hotel.

And we can’t just pull off the road anywhere we feel like it because of the marshes.

We also might want to think about hunting something up for dinner.

We can eat jerky and beans from a can, but if we can get fresh meat, I’d rather have that. ”

“I can hunt,” Erick offered. “I cannot help find a campsite, but I can handle a rifle.”

“Ducks make good eating,” Webster said, “or turkey if you see one. If you ride your brute through the brush, you might scare up a rabbit or two. The wagon makes too much noise for us to find a deer, probably, but we don’t want that much meat anyway. It would go bad before we could finish it all.”

“My ‘brute’ still needs a run,” Erick said. “Perhaps I will give him one and see if I can find anything for dinner at the same time.”

“If I find a campsite, I’ll wait within sight of the road until you come back,” Webster replied. “We’ll pull farther off the road before we make camp, but I’ll stay where you can find me easily.”

“I would be a fool to lose you.” Before he could say more, Erick loosened his hold on the reins and gave the horse his head.

It took off with a speed that pushed Erick back in the unfamiliar saddle.

For a few minutes he let it run free, reveling in the breeze cooling the day’s sweat from his skin.

He marveled at the freedom his new clothing allowed him.

He would not miss his suits and cravats with this as the alternative.

As the sun continued to sink, though, he reined in to a more reasonable pace to explore the brush surrounding the road.

He debated dismounting, but Webster had warned him of snakes, so he retrieved the rifle he had secured behind the saddle and scanned the ground around him.

Not far from the road something startled from the scrub, and he sighted the rifle almost by instinct, bringing down a fair-sized hare.

He scouted the area a bit longer without rousing anything else, so before the sun could set completely, he returned to the road. Fortunately he hadn’t gone far before he spotted the wagon pulled into a slightly less overgrown plot beneath a tree dripping with the strange Spanish moss.

“One rabbit only,” he said as he dismounted.

Webster had removed his hat and jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing muscular forearms. The evening sun caught on the beads woven into the braid of hair that hung from his temple, making them sparkle.

“I hope you know better than I how to cook it. I learned how to dress the animals I hunted in Prussia, but never how to cook one.”

Webster laughed and reached for the rabbit. “Yeah, I can cook it. The… people who adopted me made sure I could take care of myself out here.”

Erick handed it over and watched as Webster skinned it with an economy of movement (and a wickedly sharp knife) that suggested much practice. When he was done, he tossed it in a black pan that looked heavy enough to use as a weapon if necessary and hung it over the fire.

“This will take a bit to cook if you want to get your bedroll set up. I toss mine out under the wagon in case it rains during the night, but you can spread yours wherever you want.”

“I cannot judge the weather here, so I will follow your lead.” Erick retrieved his bedding from inside the wagon and crouched to unroll it, settling it to one side to allow space for Webster’s.

He wouldn’t let himself dwell on the prospect of the two of them lying beside each other in the dark, focusing instead on the hard, rock-studded ground.

Best grow used to it , he told himself. You may not always have even a wagon to block the rain.

Webster looked skyward, at stars that were familiar and yet not quite right to Erick’s eye. “We probably won’t get wet tonight, but you never know, this close to the coast. Storms can blow in faster than you can blink. Did you get that hard, fast ride you’d been missing?”

“Fast, but not hard.” Erick settled himself on the ground in front of the fire, wondering if the innuendo in Webster’s query was intentional.

He didn’t know the cowboy well enough to guess, despite what he might wish it to be.

“Whoever named him Thunder knew not how to handle him. He ran as smoothly as a spring zephyr.” He shifted position, feeling the effects of the new saddle.

“Perhaps that is the name for him—Zephyr.”

“I don’t rightly know what a zephyr is,” Webster admitted, “but it sounds better than Butterfly, that’s for damn sure.”

“Perhaps I have not the word right.” Erick hoped the growing darkness hid his flushed cheeks. “I meant a gentle breeze.”

Webster huffed a laugh, the quirk of his lips and twinkling eyes only adding to his attractiveness.

Despite his frustration at expressing himself, Erick felt Webster was laughing with him, not at him.

The other man’s face held too much kindness for it to be anything else.

“Still don’t know if it’s the right word.

’Round here, we call a breeze a breeze, but I like the name.

” He poked at the pan and flipped the meat before returning his attention to Erick.

His gaze warmed Erick more than the fire.

“Not too long now. I’ll let it cook a little more.

In the meantime, there’s coffee if you want some.

It cools off fast once the sun goes down. ”

Erick poured himself a cup of the strong brew and sat again, trying to copy Webster’s easy slouch. He still had so much to learn, but he couldn’t imagine a better teacher.

CADE WOKE up the next morning as the sky started getting light.

Heller snored lightly in the bedroll not far away, but Cade didn’t disturb him.

He allowed himself a moment to study the other man.

Nocona would scold him for being so obvious about it, but Heller slept deeply, so Cade felt no need to hide.

In slumber, Heller’s features lost their controlled expression, making him look…

softer. Cade wondered what he’d have to do to see that expression when Heller was awake.

Scolding himself for a fool, he pushed to his feet and rose.

He was used to being on his own. He should get the fire lit again and put coffee and beans on for breakfast. They’d finished off the rabbit the night before, so there wouldn’t be any meat this morning, but Cade was used to that too.

When the fire was going again and both pots hung over the flames, Cade went to check on the horses.

The draft horses regarded him with their usual placid stares, too used to him and being outdoors to care, but Zephyr was a different story.

He didn’t rear or fight the way he’d done at the docks, but he was definitely nervous.

Cade clucked at him as he approached and, when he was close enough, stroked his flank soothingly.

Zephyr whickered softly and butted Cade’s chest with his head.