Tess's Trials Read online

  TESS’S TRIALS

  C. WAYNE WINKLE

  Copyright © 2017 by C. Wayne Winkle.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book may contain views, premises, depictions, and statements by the author that are not necessarily shared or endorsed by Rusty Spur Publishing LLC.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying form without written permission of the author/publisher.

  For information contact: [email protected]

  Cover Design by Outlaws Publishing LLC

  Published by Rusty Spur Publishing LLC

  July 2017 First Edition:

  Chapter One

  “These girls should do very well.”

  The Mexican woman whose name Snake Eyes never knew grabbed the rope tied around each girl’s neck and jerked them around and off to the back of the cantina. Her one eye gleamed as she pulled them along. She cursed them just because she could. Their wails and sobbing tore at his ears until the thick wooden door at the end of the long hallway slammed shut. He knew what the girls were in for; his men had broken them in on the long trip to Mexico.

  Marlon “Snake Eyes” Roberts came by his nickname honestly. Anyone looking at him would see no humanity behind his black eyes. Six feet tall, 200 pounds, he came from a family with money and influence. But no love.

  Now, he closed his eyes to the terror shining in the little girls’ eyes as they were dragged away. Just like always, the relief he felt once the girls he caught were delivered flowed through his chest. The crying and wailing he endured during the days he’d transported them from the Texas panhandle to this town in Mexico were finally over. Maybe I can sleep tonight. For sure I will if I drink enough of this tequila.

  The man sitting with him at the scarred wooden table poured another two fingers of the tequila into a tin cup and slid it across the table to Snake Eyes. “You always bring us such fresh young girls, Snake Eyes. Where do you find so many?”

  Snake Eyes flicked his lifeless eyes up from the table top to meet the man’s gaze. For a moment, he just held that gaze steady without blinking. He found this to be intimidating to most people. He liked that. He didn’t like people asking him personal questions. But this man paid him well for the girls he brought.

  He lifted his gaze from the man to the room around him. Adobe walls, a long bar along one wall, a few tables with rickety chairs scattered around the area in front of the bar. Low ceiling, lamps hanging from wooden beams gave off pale yellow light even in the daytime. The rough planks that formed the floor needed sweeping as he figured they did every day with the dust blowing in the open door to the street outside.

  “There are a lot of isolated ranches everywhere,” he replied in his surprisingly high voice. “Lots of ‘em have young girls. It’s not hard to pick up one or two as I ride along.” He lifted the tequila to his mouth, sipped it slowly. “It helps to have someone scouting for those kinds of ranches, too.”

  The other man nodded. Both were quiet while they drank for the next few minutes. Snake Eyes felt the tequila warming his belly, relaxing him. Last night had been a long one for him. The nightmares that plagued him came again, this time especially bitter. After the third one, he stayed awake. Gradually, he began feeling better with the tequila warmth spreading through his body. He sat back, took in a deep breath, let it slip out between slightly parted lips.

  Snake Eyes’ education showed in his demeanor and manner of speech. It also prompted him to wonder if the nightmares came from what he did for money. Most of the time, he didn’t remember any of the content of the terrible dreams, just the great weight of fear they left behind.

  At times, he wondered whether his business was the source of the nightmares. After all, he stole people, usually children, but also women, and sold them. For sure that caused some fear and mourning for those left behind. But he didn’t think about that. After all, those who he stole the children from should’ve watched them closer. And the women knew the risk they took moving out away from everybody. Always wanting to be independent, to make it on their own, to tame the wild land and make it theirs. Well, Snake Eyes showed them there are some things that can’t be tamed.

  Besides that, the business paid well.

  Daddy would be proud. I found something I’m good at that makes me a lot of money. Just like he did.

  “Tired?” The man across from him raised one eyebrow in question. This man had been a good customer for Snake Eyes for several years. He paid well and always in either gold or greenbacks.

  Brought back from his reverie, Snake Eyes nodded. With his left hand, he rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Come with me,” the man said as he rose from the table. “I have just the girl who can help you relax.”

  Ordinarily, Snake Eyes didn’t have anything to do with prostitutes, but the warmth of the tequila and the stress of getting the girls there left him wanting something. He nodded, stood, and followed the man down the hallway.

  They turned into a room halfway to the end of the hall. Inside, a pretty blonde girl wearing almost nothing stood from the narrow bed where she’d been sitting. “Graciella will help you.” The girl was probably no more than 14 or 15 years old. She stood in the middle of the small room, hands clasped in front of her, eyes wide, breath coming in little gasps lifting the small breasts nearly out of the thin gown she wore.

  As soon as Snake Eyes laid eyes on the girl, his mind flooded with memories of another young whore. The one who caused his first killing. Snake Eyes didn’t remember her name, but he did remember the man bursting into the room where he and the whore were lying on her bed. She was no older than this girl at the time. The other man wanted an exclusive relationship with the girl. Snake Eyes didn’t care, except that he didn’t like the man. When the door burst open, Snake Eyes rolled off the woman, grabbed his pistol from the wash stand, and shot the man. He fled the room in only his long johns.

  Later, he heard the man wasn’t armed, so he faced a murder charge. Knowing his father couldn’t pay his way out of that charge, he stole the cash his father kept in their home and fled west.

  Another memory flashed into his mind behind his eyes. Another young whore in some small town in Kansas. She, too, was about the age of the girl in front of him. She, too, had blonde hair. The two of them fled the little town in the middle of the night. For the next month, they drifted from town to town. The girl plied her wares to pay their way.

  Ultimately, Snake Eyes tired of her. Tired of knowing she’d been with other men. Many other men. And complained that she did so, over and over again. They fell in with some bad men who made their living stealing and selling people. That gave Snake Eyes an idea. In the Texas panhandle, he sold the whore to a band of Comanches. In his dreams, he still heard her screams as he rode away from their camp.

  “No,” he told the man now. “Not her. You got somebody older?”

  For a moment, the man just stared at him. Then, “Si, just across there.” He motioned with one hand to the other side of the wide hallway.

  The woman across the hall occupied a tiny room just like the one with the young whore. She was probably in her middle 20s, looked much older. She knew her trade very well.

  Snake Eyes rode away an hour later, feeling a bit more relaxed. But in a short while, unwelcome thoughts returned.

  Only one or two more trips and I’ll have enough to get away. California or Oregon, maybe. Some place they don’t know me, haven’t heard of me, and don’t care. All I want is to live on the money I’ve made,
maybe buy some little business where I can sit in a chair and watch somebody else work.

  But now I’ve got to get back to Rodriquez and get this next sweep going. This may be the last one. Yes, I think it will be. Just a few more women to sell here in Mexico.

  Then I won’t have to hear those brats crying and sobbing all night long.

  Chapter Two

  “Edward! I don’t want to talk about this again!”

  Tess Brannon McCaslin felt her heart thumping against her ribs as she turned slowly around to face her husband, Edward. She struggled to keep her expression as neutral as she could in spite of the mounting frustration inside her. She turned from him back to the stove and finished slicing the bacon into the black iron skillet.

  That kitchen was her favorite part of the main house, except for the large front porch. She decided to make what had once been a parlor into her kitchen. Located on the side of the main house, it had its own smaller porch and back door to everyone at the ranch would have access to her when she was needed. For years, several of those years before Edward entered the picture, Tess ran the ranch from that kitchen. She’d even run off a bear that wandered into the ranch yard one spring. Before Edward came along, she even helped with the branding during the fall round-ups. But once he was there, he insisted she not participate directly in the work around the ranch.

  Tess didn’t mean to sound so sharp with him, but she grew really frustrated with Edward when he continued on and on about this particular topic.

  “But, Tess, this is something we need to get settled.” Edward McCaslin stood only a few inches taller than his wife, but always had the unsettling feeling of looking up to her. That’s why he always tried to stand in her presence. At least then others could see he was taller.

  His voice was a rich baritone that intrigued Tess when he’d come courting. More recently, it began grating on the few nerves she had left where he was concerned.

  She half-turned to glance at him over her shoulder. When she did, she caught an expression on his face that set her heart beating hard and pounding slowly against her ribs. Edward’s eyes narrowed to slits, his mouth turned down at both ends, and his brows nearly met over those eye slits.

  After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “I don’t see why we have to get this settled right now.”

  Edward shot back, almost speaking over her. “It’s not like I’ve just brought this up. I’ve

  been trying to get you to talk about it for the three years we’ve been married!” A brief pause, only a second. Then, “And every time I bring it up, you change the subject.”

  A tiny, mischievous smile formed on her lips. “Are you and the men going out today to do the spring count?” She was glad her back was to Edward so he couldn’t see the smile.

  “There! That’s what I mean!” Edward’s voice filled with frustration. “You changed the subject! Just like you always do!” He got gradually louder at the last.

  Tess turned to the small tin tub she used to wash dishes and cleaned the knife she used to slice the bacon. Carefully, because she kept it very sharp. After she dried the knife, she laid it on the counter close at hand.

  Drying her hands on the scrap of cloth she used to dry things in the kitchen, she worked to keep her expression and the tone of her voice neutral. “Edward, we have a wonderful ranch, hard-working hands, a healthy herd … just about everything we could want.”

  A tiny catch at the end of that statement caught her by surprise. Tess hoped Edward didn’t hear it. The only thing they didn’t have was children. For some reason, Tess couldn’t get pregnant.

  She hurried on before he could say anything. “Why can’t that be enough for you?” To herself, she sounded like she was almost begging him to see things her way. Her hands were clenched into fists and her nails bit into her palms.

  Edward sighed dramatically. He turned his head to glance out the back door. For a few seconds, he kept his gaze there.

  Tess watched him, saw the throb of the pulse in his throat, the bulging vein at his

  temple. I hate to make Edward mad , she considered. Then, thinking more about it, No, that’s not right. I’m sorry he gets mad, but he needs to let this rest.

  “It’s been three years, Tess.” Edward clearly struggled to keep his voice level. “I don’t see why you won’t put my name on the deed to this place. You can’t understand what it means to me for you to own this ranch and not me! You’re a woman and can’t know what it does to a man for other ranchers to know his wife owns the ranch.” A great frown creased his forehead, his eyebrows nearly touched between his eyes, and his lips turned down sharply. “It’s humiliating.”

  That was the same argument he’d used several times before.

  Tess made a very unladylike noise with her lips. “Oh, you men and your egos. It should make no difference whose name is on the deed to this ranch. We both live here and enjoy the fruits of our work.” She wondered, but never gave voice to the thought, who brought up the ownership of the ranch with the other ranchers in the first place. Might it have been Edward himself, trying to get the others to feel sorry for him? She pushed that thought away as soon as it thrust into her mind.

  She stepped over to stand close to Edward and grasped his upper arms. For some reason she didn’t want to admit, she found it harder and harder to hug him.

  “Forget about those other ranchers, Edward.” She spoke with quiet emphasis, tinged with almost begging. “You don’t have to be like them. And it doesn’t matter that the ranch is in my name.” She tried once more to convince him that was literally true. “You know I consider you part owner of the ranch. The name on the deed doesn’t matter to me.” There at the end she pleaded with him in her mind to understand, to accept what she said.

  But Edward slammed that door in her face.

  “It matters to me.” His voice, infinitely cold, spoke volumes about his unwillingness to be satisfied with anything other than what he wanted.

  With those few words, he turned, pulled out of her grip, and strode to the back door. It slammed shut behind him.

  A door slammed in her heart at the same time. She felt it.

  Staring at the closed door, she swiped at the tear that leaked out of the corner of her eye. The sizzling pops of the bacon on the stove behind her grabbed her attention. Another swipe at her cheek, and Tess turned back to the stove.

  No need to burn part of breakfast , she thought. He may come back and want to eat .

  Tess tried thinking about the ranch to take her mind off her and Edward. She had inherited it from her grandfather Brannon years ago. He fought Comanches and Comancheros to hold the land. He stayed, they died. She was never clear about how Grandfather Brannon came into possession of the ranch. Stories were told in family gatherings and ranged from the land being an old Spanish land grant to her grandfather buying it from the Indians who lived here long before.

  In any case, the ranch was huge. It ran nearly a hundred miles from east to west and almost that from north to south. The main house sat in a small grove of cottonwoods and willows. A year-round stream ran behind it, providing water for the headquarters.

  Farther away from this small oasis, trees and water were less abundant. There were water holes that held water most of the time. But in the driest part of the summer, most dried up.

  Grass was usually plentiful, in spots. But a lot of land was required for raising cows. They scattered around the entire ranch in search of water and grass. That was the reason for the spring count. To find out where the cows were and how many made it through the winter.

  Along the western side of the ranch, close to New Mexico, the land was drier and cut through by arroyos. During the spring, storms popped up out there and spread their rains and winds east along the rest of the ranch.

  To the north of the main house lay Amarillo, a long way off. Any major purchases were either made on those few trips to the big city, or had to be shipped in at quite an expense.

  East was basically nothing until one g
ot to Fort Worth.

  South was also nothing. Open prairie, part of the Llano Estacado, the Staked Plains. Miles and miles of not quite desert. But in the spring, with the rains, wildflowers bloomed and spent their short lives, only to be burned up as the sun and wind took their toll. There would be intermittent streams, dependent on the rains. At times, the arroyos there flooded whether the rains fell in that area or in the mountains that ringed the southern part of the ranch. It could be a mean place, that part of the ranch. There were canyons cut into the dry land where the rock walls rose high on either side, cutting off any breeze, multiplying the heat of the sun reflected off the rocks. In places, the boulder-strewn ground lay at the foot of cedar-clad hillsides rising to the sun. Those cedars were again dependent on the spring rains, but had grown hardy over the many years they survived. Here and there, remains of lightning-blasted trees pointed like gnarled, old fingers toward the blue bowl of the sky. White, puffy clouds floated across that blue, sometimes gathering together into anvil-topped thunderheads that dropped tons of rain all at once.

  No matter. Tess loved the ranch and ran it with love.

  Now, trying to focus on what she was doing so she could keep her thoughts bottled up, Tess worked at breakfast. She made every small detail as perfect as possible.

  But thoughts flooded back anyway.

  Once she had breakfast finished and on the sideboard in case Edward came in to eat, and her own plate in front of her, Tess stared out the window from her seat at the table. How you’ve changed, Edward. Four years ago, you showed up one day out of the blue. I didn’t know you, not really, had barely seen you. Only on those few occasions I went all the way to Amarillo. I didn’t think you’d ever noticed me.

  Then, you just rode up to the ranch.

  When I asked if you were lost, you said, “No. I came to see you.”

  You were splendid. You looked so tall sitting on that horse. And that smile! All that year you courted me, you flashed that smile.