Looking to the Future, page 1
Looking to the Future
Harvey Stanbrough
a Wes Crowley: The Gap Series novel from
StoneThread Publishing
http://stonethreadpublishing.com
To give the reader more of a sample, the front matter appears at the end.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Looking to the Future (Wes Crowley Gap, #10)
Part One: Santa Fe | Chapter 1: Rose’s 27th Birthday
Chapter 2: Rosy’s Kiva Café
Chapter 3: Rose Rationalizes Her Fears
Part Two: Kiker, New Mexico Territory | Chapter 4: Wes Crowley and José Rinconado
Chapter 5: Rinconado Rides South
Part Three: Kiker, New Mexico Territory | Chapter 6: Paco Messina and Jorge Rivas
Chapter 7: The Farmhouse
Part Four: The Road Home | Chapter 8: Wes Rides North
Chapter 9: Camp, Javelinas, and Amarillo
Chapter 10: Sam Pencilman, and Mac
Chapter 11: Captain Wilson, and Manuel Ortega
Chapter 12: Comanches
Chapter 13: New Rangers, and Finally Home
Chapter 14: The Amarillo Inn , and Questions
Chapter 15: More Questions, and Old Friends
Chapter 16: Answering Dramon’s Question, and a Rude Awakening
Chapter 17: Otis McFadden Rising
Chapter 18: Tracking (and Finding) Comanches
Chapter 19: Response to a Threat
Chapter 20: The Corporals’ Report
Chapter 21: The Party, New Patrols, and Trouble
Chapter 22: Four Crows, and Death
Chapter 23: The Aftermath
Chapter 24: The Debriefing
Chapter 25: Four Crows, and Troublesome Thoughts
Chapter 26: Upright Is Not a Matter of Degree
Looking to the Future
Harvey Stanbrough
Part One: Santa Fe
Chapter 1: Rose’s 27th Birthday
When Rose Padilla awoke, a broad smile graced her face. She was excited, even exhilarated, just to think of all the day would hold.
A giggle escaped as she sat up in her bed. This was a special day, and not only because it was her 27th birthday. Of all the days of her life, happy as they had been, today would outshine them all. Today would define her future.
This was the eighth day, the last day of the long week since Wes Crowley had ridden off to Kiker over at the eastern edge of the Territory.
Wes was a hero—her personal hero—and he had gone to Kiker specifically to rid the Territory once and for all of those ridiculous comancheros.
Apparently they were all grown men with the attitude of children. Or perhaps more aptly, their attitude was that of young bullies. They had no apparent ties and no realistic concerns. They existed only to annoy and harass other people.
But Wes was their foil. He existed only to run them to ground. He had done so for years as a Texas Ranger. And for most of the past year he had done so at the behest of señor Wallace, the governor himself.
She had never traveled to Kiker herself. But as she served travelers in her café, she had spoken with enough of them to be aware of the distance involved.
For most men on horseback, it would be a four-day trip each way. And it would take longer if they stopped for any length of time in any of the towns along the way. There was Santa Rosa. Well, if that wasn’t too far south. But apparently it was a major stop for people traveling to or through Santa Fe from Texas. And there was also Tucumcari, if that wasn’t too far north.
But Wes would not spend any time in those towns, and the trip would not take him four days. For him, the trip itself would take only three days each way. When he was on a mission in his capacity as a lawman, he was driven. He would push himself to arrive in Kiker as soon as possible. And when he arrived, he would focus on the job at hand, wanting only to get done and get back home.
Her smile expanded.
In a way, he is like the stubborn javelina on a prickly pear cactus. Just as the javelina would force its way through the cactus spines, ignoring them to get at the meat, Wes would press through danger, ignoring it to rid the Territory of the plague that was the comancheros.
She had calculated the time he would be gone, including the one day in the middle for him to accomplish the actual mission and then rest a little before he started back. The trip would take seven days in all.
But yesterday was the seventh day, and he hadn’t arrived.
* * *
At work yesterday, she had been optimistic at first, even certain of his return.
She kept one eye on the door as she went about her routine at the café. She cooked and served breakfast, her busiest time of the day, then cleared and wiped the tables and prepared them for the midday meal. She kept herself busy, trying not to anticipate his arrival. It would be fun to let Wes surprise her.
But all through the morning and then the early afternoon, he didn’t appear.
Later, as she cooked and served dinner, a mild panic began to set in.
Still, she had to do her job.
She allowed her routine to carry her through the middle of the day and into the late afternoon. She continued to glance at the door each time it opened. But as the late afternoon passed, the panic grew stronger.
Somehow she still managed to go through the motions of cooking and serving supper. She mixed up a couple of orders and served a well-done steak to a man who had ordered rare, but otherwise she did well.
Still, Wes didn’t appear.
By the time the first supper customers had finished, paid and departed, she had to force her smile to her face. Inside herself, she could only breathe. Uninvited and undesirable thoughts raced through her mind.
Perhaps the battle was larger than Wes had anticipated.
Or perhaps there were more comancheros waiting for him.
But if anything bad had happened to him, she would have known, wouldn’t she?
As the last customers finally, finally pushed back their plates and headed toward the door, Wes’ mischievous smile appeared clearly in her mind.
And she realized what was going on.
Wes had remembered that today was her birthday.
She smiled, relieved.
The delay in his arrival was his own doing. He had planned the whole thing. She should have known all along.
She closed the front door behind the last customer, then locked it from the inside and sighed.
She shook her head and laughed quietly.
He is playing the romantic, trying to impress me. He will arrive tomorrow, on the eighth day. On my birthday.
A calm sense of certainty washed over her, and it carried a warmth reminiscent of a premonition.
It would be a sweet reunion. She would make a special meal for him, and after she served it to him, he would present her with a very special birthday gift. But probably it would not be wrapped in paper and tied with a ribbon in bows.
Probably it would be the gift of a lifetime: the invitation to marry him so they could live out their days together right here in Santa Fe.
Chapter 2: Rosy’s Kiva Café
Still grinning, she bounded from her bed, hurried into the bathroom and started water spilling into the recently installed bath tub. Moments later, she bent, allowed the fingers of her right hand to sweep through the hot water, then stepped in gingerly.
When Wes rode into Santa Fe later today, the first place he would go is Rosy’s Kiva Café to let her know he was back. And before he walked out again, life would have changed for both of them.
After her bath, Rose dressed in her most colorful, finely pleated, ankle-length skirt and her finest, frilliest white peasant blouse. She stepped into her simple white leather thong sandals, then pulled the sides of her skirt back slightly and looked at the sandals. The tiny silver conches on the front straps seemed to shine up at her.
She smiled as she turned to check herself in the long mirror alongside the washstand. She had retained the washstand even after her father had installed indoor plumbing. It doubled as a small dresser.
Still smiling and her eyes shining, she pinched and tugged lightly at the fabric of her blouse here and there. But it was perfect really.
She twirled once to allow the cloth to hang where it wanted, then chuckled quietly at the image in the mirror. It was all perfect. The sandals peeking from beneath the skirt, the blouse tucked in and the silver concho belt looped around her waist, the soft shoulders of the blouse, her complexion and—
Her eyes grew wide.
Oh! I haven’t braided my hair! And on this day of all days, a long braid is essential.
Most days, to make it easier to work in the kitchen of the café, she put her hair up in a thick bun. It was also easier to serve customers with her hair up. But Wes seemed to enjoy the long, thick braid, especially when she draped it over her right shoulder.
Perhaps because of the way it plays over the humps of my breast as I walk.
She blushed.
Still watching the form in the mirror, she reached up and divided her nearly waist-length black hair into three thick strands, working each one over and around another.
He will return to me today. And soon we will marry and create a home together. And we will be ecstatically happy in Santa Fe.
After all, everything she had ever known that was worthwhile, including Wes himself, she had discovered here. And by Wes’ own admission, he had nothing to return to in Amarillo but his old job as a Texas Ranger. But he was far more important in his role here as a deputy United States marshal.
He would fit into her family perfectly. Her father and the lawman got along as if they were already father and son or old friends.
And Mamá, gone these several years, would have loved Wes as much as I do.
Finally finished braiding her hair, she tied a bit of narrow red ribbon around the end, then guided the braid over her right shoulder and lowered her hands to look.
She smiled. Yes. Yes, he will like this very much.
She blushed again. The mirror reflected the perfectly braided hair, her smooth, rosy complexion, her perfect skirt and blouse, and her large black-brown eyes beneath the perfectly arched eyebrows.
She laughed out loud, overcome with joy, then left for the brisk walk to the café.
* * *
Rose started the fires in the kitchen, put on a pot of coffee and then started some bacon strips, ham and sausages to slow-cook on the griddle. While those were cooking, she went into the dining area and moved about with a cart, placing cups, saucers and napkins on all the tables.
But as she approached the table Wes had occupied the last time she’d seen him, her confidence that he would return today waned a little.
On the afternoon he’d left for Kiker, he had stopped-in to say goodbye.
She thought he meant to stop at the Kiva for breakfast the following morning and then ride east. On every trip he’d taken before, he had left on a full stomach.
But he hadn’t come back the next morning. He had left the café directly for Kiker. It was a misunderstanding on her part, obviously.
Well, unless it wasn’t.
Their last meeting was a happy one, or at least she thought so. She had allowed herself to sit with him for a few minutes, and it was nice. Comfortable.
But seemingly on the spur of the moment, Wes had asked her to marry him and accompany him back to Amarillo.
Of course, she couldn’t say yes under those conditions. She couldn’t leave Santa Fe, and she explained why. Her home, her business—her entire life—was here. Her Kiva Café was located on prime land near the center of the budding city, and she had never experienced a slow day. Surely he could understand that. She couldn’t simply uproot everything she had built here and start over somewhere else.
And he did understand, or he seemed to.
In fact, she was certain he had.
Although he abruptly cut the visit short—probably, as it turned out, so he could leave for Kiker before the day was too far gone—he didn’t seem upset at her decision. But when she asked when he was leaving, he only said he would probably leave the following morning.
Then he nodded, smiled, and said goodbye. His expression had betrayed no telling emotions even as he turned and walked away. And she hadn’t experienced a sense of finality. Not really. She had been certain she would see him for breakfast the next morning.
But he hadn’t come in.
Chapter 3: Rose Rationalizes Her Fears
The truth was, especially when Rose was alone in the café before the customers started pouring in, she wondered whether maybe he had left for good.
Of course she had to push that thought down. She clung tightly to her expectation that he would be back today.
Actually, that he didn’t return yesterday makes perfect sense if you think about it.
After all, he left for Kiker in the late afternoon instead of the following morning. So that probably threw off his entire schedule. That’s probably why he hadn’t returned yesterday.
If you discount the few hours of daylight travel time that remained on the day he left, and if he returned today as she expected him to, the whole trip would still be only seven days.
Not exactly. But at least it would be closer to seven days than eight.
And leaving with only a nod and a vague “goodbye” hanging in the air was exactly the way of such quiet, vibrant men. It didn’t mean at all that Wes wouldn’t be back.
Everything about such men—including their emotions—was bigger and stronger, more all-encompassing. If they didn’t keep their emotions in check, they would soon become overwhelmed. They had to retain a hard edge in order to continue being who they were. Otherwise they would be no good to anyone. They would slip across the line and become outlaws. Or they would be killed.
So yes, Wes had said goodbye, but it was only the temporary kind of goodbye one person says to another when they fully expect to see each other again. And soon.
She frowned.
Wasn’t it?
But of course it was. The week-long mission to Kiker and back would have given Wes time to think, time to reason with himself.
He would have realized the wisdom of settling here in Santa Fe with Rosy as his wife.
We are perfect for each other, after all. We are perfectly suited in every way.
Wes has been on many missions as a deputy US marshal, and he and I only grew closer and more perfect for each other when he returned from each of them.
And anytime he isn’t out chasing bad me, he is a fixture in the café. An absolute fixture. And he will be again. Starting with the moment he walked through the door today.
Oh! I forgot to turn the meat on the griddle! And I forgot to mix and knead the dough for biscuits!
She tore her gaze from the table where she had last seen Wes and turned toward the kitchen.
The small, floral-engraved Mexican silver bell mounted to the inside of the entrance door sounded brightly.
Rose glanced over her shoulder, then stopped and turned around.
Susan Wallace, the governor’s wife, had just entered.
Her pleated blue dress, peppered all over with tiny red and coral roses, swirled around her as she lowered her parasol. Behind her, the governor was still holding the door open. As always, he was in a three-piece suit, this one a lighter grey.
As he removed his matching bowler hat, he swept it across his waist and smiled. “Buenos dias, señorita Padilla. The café is open, is it not? Or have we arrived early?”
Rose smiled, her eyes wide. “You are not too early. The café is open.” She gestured toward the tables. Please, sit anywhere you like. I will bring coffee soon.”
It wasn’t Wes, but it was the man who had brought Wes into the Territory and even into this very café and Rose’s life. She turned and hurried toward the kitchen.
The governor joined his wife at the table she had selected. He seated her, then selected a chair for himself and sat down.
In the kitchen, Rose quickly turned the thick bacon strips and sausages on the grill, then wrapped a towel around the hot handle of the coffee pot. She returned through the door to the dining area.
With another towel to pad the top of the pot, she tipped it and poured full the two cups the governor had turned upright for himself and his wife.
He smiled up at her. “Gracias, Rosy.”
“Por nada.” She grinned, enjoying his strained, stilted attempt at using her language.
“The braid in your hair. It’s very nice. You usually wear it up, don’t you?”
She blushed. “Gracias. I think Wes will be back today. He enjoys it in a braid.”
Still smiling, the governor only nodded, but he cast a quick glance at his wife.
Rosy said, “You are not early, as I said, but I was lost in thought for a moment. As a result I am behind. If you will excuse me, I must prepare the biscuits for the day. When they are in the oven, I will be out to take your order.”
Susan glanced up, and for a moment Rose thought the woman was going to ask whether she could help. But the governor’s wife only smiled demurely. “Don’t rush on our behalf, dear. Now that the president has set my husband down, we have all the time in the world. He doesn’t have to go chasing bad men all over God’s horrible green acre anymore.” Still looking at Rose, she patted the governor’s right forearm with her left hand. “Not now that he has Crowley to do it for him.”
As Rose forced a smile and turned away, the governor put his right hand in his lap. “Really, Susan. Might you keep your personal disappointment in me to yourself?”
“Oh. No, I was only saying—”
“I know what you were saying, and there’s no reason for you to air your personal sentiments in—”
The swinging door between the kitchen and the dining area clack-clack-clacked behind Rosy.
