28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

H e loved her. God, he loved her so much it scared him.

And he thought, though it was wishful, maybe she loved him, too.

I can't be like you, holding onto my secrets like a lead bullet in a gunshot wound, letting it rot me from the inside out.

Isa was right. Junior hated it when she was right. If he was going to tell her, he may as well do it now before he fell in deeper with her. He was already so deep that he didn't think he could claw his way out. His biggest shame was a weighted chain dragging him down. Holding him back.

"Randal Talbot and I were privates together under Captain Havelard. When we got ambushed and peppered with bullets, Randal was shot in the leg and Havelard was seriously wounded. Randal was able to cover me while I snuck around and got two of the bastards; the rest of them got on their horses and rode off. After that, I was promoted to lieutenant. One day, I was visiting them in the hospital when Havelard waved me over. He got a letter sayin' that a company of Texas Rangers had gone rogue near the border."

The memory was patchy.

Captain Havelard, old before his years, lying in a hospital cot. The letter explaining in convoluted military jargon that half a dozen Rangers were terrorizing civilians along the border, and local law enforcement wasn't doing enough about it for the citizen's liking.

"Need you to investigate this for me, Stone," Captain Havelard had said, his eyes closed above his sunken cheeks. The bullet to his chest had just about killed him. "And Stone. One more thing."

"Sir?" Junior had been busily scanning the wrinkled missive.

"One of them is Talbot's little brother."

"Shit."

"It gets worse. He's impersonating a captain and leading the other Rangers—"

" Shit ."

"—and there have been Mexican-American fatalities. They're all poor farming families."

A noise hissed between Isa's teeth as he told her this, and he rubbed the soft skin of her arm.

"Did your friend know?" she asked, looking up from the crook of his shoulder.

"Captain Havelard ordered me not to tell him anything." Junior had resented the orders mightily. "I'd told Randal I was going to the border but didn't explain why. By the time I was released, a superior officer told him, and I was too chicken to meet him face-to-face."

Junior had ridden to the dusty little town south of El Paso, where the activity was most prevalent. His orders were clear: gather enough evidence to incriminate the men, discover their location, and send for reinforcement. The local sheriff was old and short on help. According to him, the group of young men was showing off their homemade Texas Ranger badges, abusing their power, and their leader claimed to be Captain Bill Talbot.

"There was no Captain Bill Talbot. The sheriff gave me his blessing to investigate, so I visited some nearby farms and asked about the men's whereabouts. Most of the families wanted to be left alone. I reckon they thought their involvement would incriminate them in case things turned ugly. But a few of them—the ones brave enough to contact the U.S. Marshal—were angry. They gave statements on the men's movements, the usual spots they'd hole up at, and the pattern of places they ran off to after a night of mischief. According to them, these men stole, bullied, and even had their way with some of the farmers' daughters."

Isa made a noise in her throat, and Junior realized he'd stopped stroking her forearm and was instead gripping it. He peeled his hand from her, dismayed to see a white impression on her skin.

"I'm sorry, darlin'." He kissed the top of her head, breathing in her sweet scent, and chafed her arm.

She waved this off and scooted up until she was propped on her elbow. "Did you end up finding them?"

"Yeah, I did. First, I reported back to Captain Havelard on my initial findings, then scouted for a couple days around the places the rogue Rangers were known to frequent. I met a farmer named Paulson. He thought I was one of them at first and pulled a gun on me till he came closer." Junior chuckled. "He was a tough son of a bitch. He was a white man married to a Mexican senorita and knew fluent Spanish. Only ever saw him smile for his woman and two little girls. They were just about the sweetest things you've ever seen, Izzy. The oldest one—she was about Ally's age—had these great big eyes and was always smilin'. I remember her name. Leticia. Paulson called her Leti."

He stopped talking. This chapter of his story was ugly. Tainted. One he relived when he couldn't sleep, wishing over and over again that he'd done more to prevent it. A hand slid into his, fingers linking, sharing strength. He squeezed tight.

"With Paulson's help, I finally found where Bill Talbot and his men were hidin' out."

Junior and Paulson had spent an afternoon tracking the six men's movements when they found them. The men were holed up in an abandoned shanty on the outskirts of town, and Paulson had wanted to confront them immediately. Junior explained how that would have been a mistake.

"Even with a militia at our backs, it could have turned into a shootout," Junior explained. "I had orders not to let things escalate. Havelard wanted federal troops to put the fear of God into these men so no one else would get similar ideas. Meanwhile, Paulson's in my ear talkin' about forming a posse to bring them in by force." He ground his teeth together at the memory and stared across the foot of the bed. In the little fireplace, the coals glowed red beneath a crust of white ash.

Gently, Isa asked, "Did Paulson listen?"

"Not a damned bit."

Junior had no sooner ridden to El Paso to send a wire to Havelard than Paulson was forming a posse of angry neighboring farmers to surround the shack housing the group of rogue Rangers.

"Paulson underestimated what men will do when ruled by fear," Junior said. "One of his neighbors betrayed him and notified Bill Talbot."

Isa groaned softly. "Why would anyone do such a thing?"

"Could be the neighbor was scared it wouldn't be a successful mission, and his family would pay the price." By the time Junior returned to the dusty little town, the sheriff had informed him the men had cleared out from their hiding spot, alerted before the posse could arrive at the scene. "I visited Paulson's ranch that evening. Lord, I was ready to tear into him. He didn't come out to greet me, which was strange. His dog didn't, either, and that should've warned me. I remember dismounting and being pistol-whipped from behind."

The six Rangers had surrounded the ranch with plans to execute Paulson before fleeing. Junior's arrival alerted one of their posted men, and it had been all too easy to sneak up behind the tall, blond Ranger. It was not quite as easy to disarm him, however.

"I'd managed to pin their lookout down when four more of them were on me, punching, kicking, stirring up sand. One of them shot me, but it only grazed me." He pointed to a withered scar on the roundest part of his left shoulder. "I remember Bill ordering them not to shoot. They all carried military-grade Colts. If I'd been killed by one of those, it'd fall back to them. The best course of action would be to beat me unconscious and disappear over the border. That's how I got this." He brushed a thumb over the scar beneath his eyebrow.

It wasn't until later that night that Junior regained consciousness. He'd woken to a pitch-black sky lit by the blazing farm beside him.

Beside him, Isa listened rigidly. Afraid of hurting her again, Junior pulled his hand free of hers and gripped the blanket, discreetly wringing it between his fingers.

"The fire was raging. Had been goin' on for a while. It was the heat that woke me." He had wanted to scream a warning to Paulson and his family but couldn't get his jaw to open. "The barn was a shell, and the house was engulfed. It was loud; I never knew fire could be so loud, not even when you lit those wagons on fire back then, remember?"

Isa nodded, but he wasn't paying attention, not truly. He was lost in the memories. Bottled up since his testimony in court, the words came flooding out. "I found Paulson inside the front gate. He'd been shot, execution style, and had probably been dead before I'd even ridden up. I wanted to look for the rest of them, but it was hard to see; one of my eyes was swollen shut. But I could hear them. Laughing. Shouting. They were excited. They had taken the .45 Havelard gave me, the engraved one, but I still had my military Colt. I pulled it out and walked around the house. Everything was lit up like it was daytime, and the heat comin' off the house had sweat pouring into my good eye. I kept having to wipe it on my shoulder. I found them in the backyard. Five of the men were grouped around Paulson's wife. She was naked on the ground. I didn't think twice about it, Izzy. I shot them all.

"I emptied five rounds into them, and they all dropped like flies. That's when I saw movement by the outhouses. It was Bill Talbot. He was running, shooting at me. He was a piss-poor shot—used up all his ammo before I'd even thought about chasing him. I was in no fit state to catch him. Thank God they'd tied Champ up nearby. I got on him and lassoed Talbot before he could get on his horse. It was when I was draggin' him to me that I saw what the bastard had been doing by the outhouses. He'd been with Paulson's little girl, Leti."

Junior covered and scrubbed his eyes, willing the image to wipe away.

"Junior…" Isa's voice was as broken as his.

He touched her, and she quietened. He had to finish it.

"I'd like to say my mind walked away from me after that. In court, Havelard's lawyer argued that I was concussed. But I wasn't, Izzy. I was crystal clear. I dismounted, disarmed Bill Talbot, and tied him up with a spare bit of rope I had. Then I put the lasso around his neck."

Bill Talbot had talked, shouted, and begged for his life. Junior had ignored him. He'd led his friend's little brother by his neck to the nearest tree and threw the rope over it. Then he'd secured the rope around his saddle horn, mounted Champion, and slowly pulled Talbot up. The man had ceased to be human to Junior. In his mind, Talbot had become nothing more than a vessel that inflicted pain and suffering. A monster. Junior had watched the body swing and kick until it stopped moving. Until piss ran down its legs, dripping off weathered boots into the dust. Until it was dead.

"I made sure he was," Junior said numbly.

He'd tied the end of the rope to some scrub brush, limped over to Paulson, his wife, and Leti, and covered them as best he could with spare blankets and clothes in his saddlebags. When a search for the smallest child had proved fruitless, Junior had dragged the men's bodies away and contemplated ending his own life.

Isa wiped at her nose.

The silence was too loud. Junior talked to fill it. "I cried when I shot those men. Isn't that pitiful? I was so mad it turned into tears. I did that as a kid and hated it. My pa always called me a ‘sissy female.' But I didn't shed a tear for Talbot. I hanged him and felt glad." He cleared his throat. "I turned myself in when the sun rose. They called me a traitor. A murderer. But I'd do it again. I reckon that's why I can live with myself."

To give her privacy while she subtly blew her nose into one of his bandanas, Junior reached for his wallet in his bedside table drawer and gently withdrew a frayed, folded letter.

"I read this. To give me strength."

Isa's shaking fingers held the sheaf of paper she had written on several years before, and her next words, so sincerely spoken, were what finally crumbled his reserves.

"I love you, Junior."

He allowed her to pull him close, like a mother would a child. For a long time, she stroked his bare back and made no mention of the dampness against her shoulder.