Quest of the Heart

By J.M. Stenfors

A cache of letters, bequeathed to Willa by her vengeful aunt, finally reveals the truth about her absentee father.  For ten years, he was a consistent – unanswered – correspondent who expressed love in his every letter.  It remains for Willa to solve the mystery of why he did not return to his home, Gales Creek Ranch.

The spirited, young heiress and widow, following her heart, launches a quest to find her father and bring him home.  Her epic journey leads her into the arms of a new love, the wild gold camps of Alaska and a peaceful valley in Hawaii.

Faced with setbacks – the loss of Dallas' love and the failure to locate her father - Willa feels the pull of her beloved Texas ranch, Gales Creek.  Can this wild and beautiful land still her yearning heart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.M. Stenfors
• Release date: Jul 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393260653

J.M. Stenfors

J.M. Stenfors is a writer and author of the novel Navy Blue, a historical romance set during World War II.  She is an avid reader of historical novels, loves traveling in the American West and cannot past a historical marker without reading it.  She combined her two interests and one oddity to write several other historical novels featuring unconventional, independent and adventurous women in the Gilded Age and the Progressive Era.  Her novels are Thunder in the Mountain, Quest of the Heart, and Eye of the Beholder.  Joelene earned a Bachelor of Science Degree in Economics at Sam Houston State University in Huntsville, Texas.  She lives with her family and a version of Grumpy Cat, Rosie, in the beautiful Pacific Northwest in Hillsboro, Oregon.

Book preview

Chapter 1

WILLA, LAYING THE LETTER in her lap, carefully smooth its folds.  Her hands trembled with anger; rage, like wildfire sweeping across the dry prairie, coursed through her entire body. Damn you, aunt Eugenia, whispered Willa.  If you were not already dead, I'd kill you myself!  Willa felt an urge to break something; a fine crystal goblet stood on the table next to her.  Even as she thought about the deed, she could almost hear her aunt's scolding voice as if the old woman sat in the room.

A proper young lady never displays a temper . . . most unbecoming, scolded a ghost’s voice.

Willa grabbed the glass and hurdled it against the stone fireplace; shards fell on the hearth.  I hope you burn in hell.

I hope you didn't mean me, my dear teased Elena, Willa's mother-in-law.  She entered the sunny parlor, noting with pleasure that someone tied the heavy velvet drapes back against the wall.  When Eugenia lived, she kept the house dark as if she were in everlasting mourning.

Willa blushed deeply, embarrassed by her childish fit of temper. Oh Elena, I am so glad you came.  The flustered young woman abruptly stood, catching the letter as it slid towards the floor. I'm so sorry, Elena, she said. I'll ring for Jenny.

Elena pulled off her leather riding gloves and drew her daughter-in-law into a quick hug. Standing back, the older woman spoke. So, who do you condemn to hell so vigorously?  Before Willa could reply, Jenny knocked on the parlor door and entered; seeing the broken glass, the maid raised an eyebrow.

Willa blushed again as she apologized. I'm afraid I made a mess, Jenny.  Please ask Ella to see to it.  We’re going to the library.

Yes ma'am. Shall I serve lemonade there?

Thank you, that will be fine, replied Willa as the two women started to leave.  When Willa entered the library, she immediately crossed to the room and drew back the window coverings.  Light flooded the room. I never understood why aunt Eugenia kept this house so gloomy.

Elena, taking a seat, looked around the room with open curiosity.  In all the years she knew Eugenia, the woman never invited Elena into this room.  The library, clean and orderly, was decidedly masculine; with leather furniture, paintings of English hunting scenes, and cases of trophies.  A humidor, full of expensive cigars, sat next to decanters of whiskey, bourbon, and scotch.  It was a strange room, considering Eugenia's husband left more than two decades ago.  Elena looked at the huge desk; dozens of open letters covered its surface.

Why did aunt Eugenia hate me? ask Willa, her voice trembling. 

Shocked, Elena sat speechless.  She knew Willa's relationship with her aunt was contentious at times, but hatred seemed like a harsh word to use. My dear, she whispered.

Willa turned around abruptly to face her mother-in-law.  She waved the letter she carried from the parlor.  This is the last letter from my father, sent just a few weeks before my wedding to Jefferson.  Elena felt sorrow pierce her heart at Willa's mention of her deceased stepson.  The young woman went on, unaware of Elena's sadness.  He wished me all the happiness in the world and said this was his last letter.  No doubt he thought of me as an unloving child because I did not answer even one of his letters in all these years. Aunt Eugenia did this.  Willa pointed to the letters on the desk.  All my father's letters. . . two a month for almost fifteen years.  She walked with slow and determine steps to the desk; Willa selected a bundle of letters.  No one replied to him in more than fifteen years.  Who would blame him for thinking his daughter hated him?

The bewildered Elena struggled to understand Willa’s story. Your father wrote all of those?

Willa nodded.  From the man who abandoned me, who supposedly never love me,  she paused, at least, according to my dear departed aunt Eugenia.   A sob escape from the devastated young woman. 

Elena moved quickly to gather Willa into her arms.  She stroked the young woman's hair softly until she quieted.  Matthew, Elena's husband, always wondered why his friend, David, stopped writing.  His friend's actions hurt Matt more than he admitted.  Elena always thought Eugenia was responsible for David's strange behavior. 

When Jenny -the maid - knocked, Elena called her in.  The young woman gave them a curious glance as she put the lemonade on the table near the window.  Anything else, ma'am? asked the maid. 

Elena shook her head and shooed the young maid from the room.  She and Willa sat at the table; Elena, pouring drinks for them, briefly considered adding some whiskey to their lemonade to steady their nerves.  Instead, she asked.  Why did the letters appear now?

Willa's harsh laugh sounded loud in the quiet room.  Aunt Eugenia left them to me in her will!

Elena, usually the model of decorum, swore vigorously in both her native language, Spanish, and then in English.  That heartless bitch! she said angrily.

Despite her distress, Willa smiled.  The Mexican woman’s temper was well-known.

Elena shrugged. Padre says my temper is wicked.  Something we share, no?  She laughed; suddenly she stood up.  We've stayed to long in this mausoleum . . . we need to ride to the Hacienda.  The fresh air will clear our heads and maybe Matt can make some sense of this when we tell him

Willa loved riding her horse, Sundance; far away from Eugenia’s house and out onto the open prairies.  Gales Creek Ranch, owned by the Hayes and the McAdams, sprawled west from the piney woods of East Texas.  It ran across wide open prairies towards the setting sun.  Bisecting the ranch, two Cottonwood tree-lined rivers separated broad sweeps of land.  The main ranch houses, McAdams' Veranda House and the Hayes' Hacienda, sat above a major ford on Gales Creek; a small town, also called Gales Creek sat on the other bank.  Scattered across the ranch, several bunkhouses held the ranch hands necessary to run the large outfit. 

The cattle herds, mostly Longhorns mixed with Herefords and Angus, roam freely across the vast grasslands.  A large band of horses, range ponies mostly, ran in the pastures near the closest river. The Appaloosas, Matt's special project, grazed in fenced fields just beyond the Hacienda.  Orchards and truck gardens flourished near the banks of Gales Creek.  Oil, newly discovered near the northern border of the ranch, sent speculators scurrying to ask Matt's permission to drill test wells.  Their answer was a good dinner and a polite dismissal.

Marcus McAdams and Samuel Hayes, fathers of the present owners, met while serving under Sam Houston during the Texas rebellion.  During the long retreat across Texas, the two men became the best of friends and then partners in a shared dream; Marcus' Mexican land grant was the foundation for that dream.  With the defeat of Santa Anna at the battle of San Jacinto, the Republic of Texas emerge victorious.  A few months later the new government of the Republic confirmed Marcus' claim and granted them both lands, bordering the original claim.  Samuel’s money fueled the ranch’s growth.  Marcus and Samuel built Gales Creek Ranch into one of the largest outfits in the Republic of Texas; a fine legacy for the next generation of McAdams and Hayes.  Willa Iolani McAdams Hayes was the heiress apparent to the McAdams's half of the Gales Creek Ranch.

Later that night Matthew Hayes, sitting comfortably in his favorite chair, rested his booted feet on the edge of a brick fire ring.   A small fire and strategically placed lanterns cast shadows over the Hacienda's enclosed courtyard; a soft breeze stirred the sweet fragrances of Elena's flowers.  Near Matthew, his wife placed a bottle of tequila.  He, alone, control the entire operations of Gales Creek Ranch.  With his jovial face and merry eyes, he did not much look like a patriarch or an ironfisted boss, but he was both.   Only, a sprinkling of gray in his dark hair and beard gave away his age.  Tonight, a small frown marred his handsome face as he glanced at his guests sitting around the fire ring.

Besides their daughter-in-law, Elena also invited Willa's maternal uncle, Kehale, and his wife, Aolani.  Even in Texas, the unusual couple garnered second glances wherever they ventured.  Kehale, standing well over six feet tall, carried himself like an ancient Hawaiian king and Aolani was his worthy consort.  The couple, fleeing their native islands, came to Gales Creek Ranch with David and Malana, Willa's mother.  In 1873, the native army of Hawaii revolted; a protest against harsh treatment by their white officers.  Kehale joined the palace revolt.  King Lunalito, after reviewing the armies' complaints, paroled the instigators; but under pressure from the white politicians, the king disbanded the Hawaiian Army.  Already branded as a troublemaker, Kehale published inflammatory broadsheets condemning the white rule in Hawaii; but it was a barroom fight that made him a fugitive.  The authorities put a price on his head; Kehale and Aolani fled to the Big Island.  David, who married Kehale's sister, smuggle the couple out of Hawaii.  As a member of the Pahole cowboy culture of Hawaii, Kehale easily adapted to the ways of Gales Creek Ranch in Texas.

The gathering spent dinnertime talking about Aunt Eugenia's deception and what it meant to the family.  Elena never trusted Willa's aunt; she felt David's sister was selfish and untrustworthy - not a good choice for even a temporary guardian.  Elena felt David's grief after Malana's death distorted his good sense and led him into a bad decision.  She always knew he never intended to abandon his daughter and today’s revelation confirmed her suspicions.  She wondered how Eugenia persuaded him to make such a drastic decision.  Matt, Kehale and Aolani agreed with her.

By dessert, Willa tired of the subject.  She, stretching, moved to a chair by the fire pit where the others joined her.  She sighed deeply.  I feel safe here . . . the Hacienda has always been like a second home . . . a sanctuary away from aunt Eugenia's control.  Hard as she tried, Eugenia could never break the bond that Willa had with the Hayes; and the woman dare not offend them as they controlled the ranch’s finances – one source of Willa’s fortune.

Elena smiled at Matthew.  They raised their children at the Hacienda; Jefferson and Jackson, Elena's twin stepsons, Elizabeth, Luis, Francisca, and Angel.  Three generations of Hayes lived there.  Jackson, the oldest, was courting in town.  Elena’s other children were visiting at their grandfather’s ranch near the border.  It was the old gentleman’s first time to greet his new grandchild.

Willa spoke again wishfully.  I remember this one evening long ago when I was just six or seven.  It was late and you asked our family to stay overnight.  You sent us to bed but Jefferson, Jackson and I snuck back out on the balcony.  We wanted to spy on the grown-ups.  Willa smiled at Elena.  Remember old Tomas?  He played the guitar and you, Elena, danced.

Matt smiled. Hm, I remember that night, he said, his eyes twinkling.

Elena blushed; she remembered the night too.  She spent many years at school in a convent in Mexico City.  Despite the nuns’ vigilance, Elena and her friends saw some of the street life in the big city.  Elena fell in love with the colorful native dances - the fiery rhythm, the exotic steps, and the colorful costumes called to her.  Elena's friend, a native of Mexico City, found a respectable couple to teach Elena the dances; the old nun who accompanied them slept in the carriage during the lessons.  When she left the school, Elena danced to the native folk songs like the people of the streets.  She never performed before an audience until that night; Elena blamed the wine for her boldness.

Matt smiled again. Tomas played his guitar and you rose and began to dance, he reminisced.  I never saw a woman move like that . . . you were lovely and I fell in love with you all over again.

Elena blushed for the second time.  Matthew, you embarrass me.

Willa spoke again. When you finished, Kehale began playing his ukulele and Aolani sang as my mother danced.  The song told about a legend of the Hawaiian Islands.

The music from Mexico was fiery with passion and desire, said Kehale.  I thought we needed a change of pace. My sister, Malana, learned the Hula from my mother and she, in turn, learned from her mother.  Kehale frowned as he continued.  Missionaries tried to ban the Hula from Hawaii . . . the dance is the spirit of our culture, even if we danced it in secret."

Elena spoke softly. Your mother danced like the  music possessed her.  Every movement told a story. . . every gesture called to you.  We sat enthralled and your father could not take his eyes off her.

Aolani sighed.  Those were happy times.  The courtyard fell silent as each person drifted into their own memories.

WILLA, RETURNING TO her late aunt's home the next morning, felt uncomfortable.  The house felt strange; two weeks passed since her aunt's funeral and Eugenia's presence was everywhere still.  For more than ten years her aunt ran every part of Willa’s life – her schooling, her social engagement and even who she dated.  At twenty-three and a widow for almost two years, Willa keenly felt her lack of experience.  Elena, last night, pointed out that events since the young woman came of age – Willa's marriage, her husband's death and Eugenia's terminal illness – interrupted her education.

Now Willa knew she must shoulder her own responsibilities.  Matthew, her father-in-law, offered to act as her mentor, but refused to become a substitute for Eugenia.  He told her that she was an heiress to half of one of the largest ranches in Texas and her future was in her own hands.  With Matt's words still ringing in her ears, Willa made her first decision.  She asked to meet with Judge Connors, her father's trusted friend; Mr. Lancaster, her aunt's lawyer; Mr. Mansford, the Gales Creek Ranch’s lawyer; Mr. Higgins, the town's banker; and of course, her father-in-law, Matt.  It was time to discover the depth of Eugenia's deception.

They set the meeting for that afternoon in the library at Eugenia's house.  Willa, abandoning her mourning clothes, selected a fashionable beige walking suit; if she shocked the men, they hid their feelings.  Willa refused to wear mourning clothes for a woman who betrayed her.  The meeting nearly unnerved her as she faced five of the most influential gentlemen in the community.  She took a deep breath.

Gentlemen, I have reason to believe my aunt Eugenia was not honest in her dealings with us, said Willa, keeping her voice level.

Mr. Lancaster, Eugenia's lawyer, started to protest but Willa cut him off.

I know you told me that the rest of Eugenia’s Will did not concern me, said Willa, addressing Mr. Lancaster.  She spoke in a quiet but determined voice.  Considering the circumstances.  Please, tell me of my aunt's other bequests.

Mr. Hayes, I must protest, said Mr. Lancaster.  Miss Eugenia, even in death, has a right to privacy.

The lawyer ignored Willa and spoke direct to her father-in-law.  Matthew scowled but said nothing.  Lancaster continued to protest; it pained him to hear a such fine upstanding woman, like Miss Eugenia, maligned in such a way.  None, but he, understood the supreme sacrifice his client was force to make.  Only a woman, like Miss Eugenia, had the Christian fortitude to accept a half-caste child into her home.  Many an afternoon, over tea with Miss Eugenia, he heard her recite the latest escapades perpetuated by Willa and the Hayes twins.  He looked at the young woman with distaste.

Miss Eugenia did her Christian duty . . . she took excellent care of you, he said, accusingly.

Willa looked thoughtful for a moment.  Yes, I suppose she did do her Christian duty.  I never wanted for food or clothing.  And I am considered to be a well-mannered and educated young woman.  Lancaster looked smug until Willa spoke again.  Any half decent orphanage could do as well by me.

Matt, listening to the verbal exchange between Willa and Lancaster, felt guilty - not for the first time.  When David left, Matt thought he understood why his friend chose his sister, Eugenia as Willa’s guardian.  Elena was pregnant with four other children to raise as Matt prepared to run one of the largest ranches in Texas on his own.  Also, Willa was no relation to him or Elena.  Matt also knew the upstanding people of Gales Creek would never allow Kehale and Aolani as Willa’s guardians.  The state of Texas held Hawaiians, Mexicans and Negroes in low esteem – legally, their rights were ignored.  Eugenia, unassailable, was David’s only choice.  Matt knew his friend never blamed his sister for her bad marriage or her financial difficulties.

Always in the back of his mind, Matt knew Willa was unhappy at her aunt’s house.  Perhaps that is why he turned a blind eye to the many escapades that Willa and the twins fell into over the years.  Often, he ran interference when Willa ran away from Eugenia’s home to spend time at Veranda House with Kehale and Aolani.  He and Elena were ecstatic when Willa accepted Jefferson’s marriage proposal – finally David’s daughter was a member of the Hayes’ family.  Even when happily ever after didn’t happen, because of Jefferson’s death, Eugenia never regained her former hold on Willa.

Lancaster’s face flushed to a deep shade of red.  Why you ungrateful . . . 

Matt, aroused from his thoughts by Lancaster’s angry outburst, was about to protest when Judge Connors interrupted.  Mr. Lancaster, Mrs. Hayes believes her aunt committed a crime. We will examine the whole will.

Eugenia's lawyer nodded, trying to regain his professionalism.  He reluctantly opened his briefcase.  He cleared his throat as he unfolded the will. Yes of course, your honor.  He turned towards Willa.  You, Mrs. Hayes, are aware of Eugenia's bequest to you.  Willa nodded.  The lawyer resumed. We delivered the letters to your aunt's house the other day.

The judge interrupted again.  What letters?

My father wrote to me twice a month, starting a week after he left until just before I married Jefferson, said Willa.  My aunt saw fit to withhold them from me until after she died.

Damn, swore the judge, shaking his head. I just knew David wasn't the type of man who abandons his own daughter.

Matthew spoke harshly.  Somehow the conniving witch convinced her brother that Willa hated him, and all of us turned against him.  She played on David's grief and guilt.  He was heartbroken . . . you could read it in his letters.  Matthew shifted in his chair.

The judge leaned forward.  Then you saw these letters?

Matt nodded.  Late last night, with Willa's permission.  Eugenia persuaded David to stay away until she could supposedly smooth everything over.  Of course, she never had any intent of correcting the matter.  Matt ran his hand through his hair, his frustration showed.  Why did he break off communications with everyone else?

Judge Connors shook his head.  Go on with the Will, Mr. Lancaster.

The lawyer adjusted his glasses.  Miss Eugenia left small gifts of money to Jenny and Ella.  The house and ten thousand dollars she left to St. Mary's Convent in New Orleans.

Mr. Mansford, the lawyer for the ranch, protested.  Miss Eugenia lost ownership of the house years ago.

Matt interrupted.  And just where did she get ten thousand dollars?

Lancaster, ignoring Matt's question, rummaged around in his briefcase and pulled out a document. I have her house deed right here.

The other lawyer shook his head.  A forgery . . . two years before David left, Eugene's husband approached Willa's father.  The man was deeply in debt, having spent all of Eugenia's dowry.  Mr. Baron signed the house over to David in exchange for money to pay off his debts.  I drew up the papers myself; they are in my office, said Mr. Mansford.  Mr. Baron left Gales Creek a few days later.  He got a divorce in New Orleans.

Was Miss Eugenia aware of her husband's actions? asked the judge.

Mr. Higgins supplied the answer.  Yes, Eugenia received copies of the divorce papers . . .  her husband left her penniless.

The judge shook his head sadly.  How unfortunate!

Mr. Higgins nodded and continued. Shortly afterwards, Mr. McAdams brought his sister to my bank.  He arranged to have all the household bills paid out of his own account.  He also set up a personal allowance for Eugenia. . . telling us not to pay any other bills incurred by his sister or her ex-husband.  I could see she was furious at him.

Matt spoke.  She always felt she had a grievance against David.  Eugenia felt her father and brothers cheated her out of her portion of the ranch.

Mr. Mansford added details.  According to the original agreement drawn up by Samuel and Marcus, any child not wanting to stay on the ranch could exchange his or her portion for a cash settlement when they gained majority.  Eugenia agreed to the conditions when she married.

After David's wife died, Matt came to me, said Mr. Mansford.  He asked me to draw up a temporary guardianship agreement, so Eugenia had charge of Willa until David returned.  The agreement also increased Eugenia's allowance to cover Willa’s expenses, said Mansford.  A few weeks later, Matt brought the signed document back to me.  Matt did not tell me where David disappeared to. 

Mr. Higgins, the banker, nodded.  Mr. McAdams also amended his instructions to us on Miss Eugenia's allowance to include the added amount.

So, David took care of all the legal and financial matters about the care concerning his daughter.  Am I right? said the judge.  All the men nodded.

Mr. Higgins mopped his brow.  A few months later, Miss Eugenia presented a Power of Attorney to me. . . she said David sent it to her. It gave her full access to his accounts.

Matthew groaned.  David told him that Eugenia and her husband ran through her entire dowry in less than a year.  Now she had full access to David's fortune.

Mr. Lancaster, Eugenia's lawyer, drew another piece of paper from his briefcase. I have her Power of Attorney here.  He handed the document to the judge. 

Matt spoke.  Another forgery.  Eugenia's ex-husband was an excellent forger.  The reason he left town is because David caught him passing forged bank drafts down in Houston.  David showed me one, the signature was nearly perfect. 

Connors read through the paper thoroughly. Mr. Lancaster, Mr. Higgins do either of you recognize the name of the lawyer on this document?  Both men shook their heads.  Did either of you try to contact him? asked the Judge.  Again, both men shook their heads. Mr. Higgins did you have any reason to doubt the authenticity?

The man shook his head.  Mr. Lancaster was with Miss Eugenia when she presented the document to me.  I assumed he had examined it.

The judge looked at the piece of paper.  It looks real . . .  but since your aunt is dead, this document is no longer valid anyway.  He looked uncomfortable.  However, until we can reach your father and decide his wishes, we cannot release his accounts to you, Mrs. Hayes.

Willa sat in shocked silence.  In just minutes, she went from being comfortably rich to being penniless, despite being an heiress to a vast ranch.

Before Willa replied, Matthew spoke up. Did Eugenia empty the accounts?

Higgins, listening to the discussion, grew paler by the moment.  Certainly not, Mr. Hayes.  Mr. McAdams has substantially funded the accounts for many years.

Did miss Eugenia have any accounts of her own? asked the judge.

Not in my bank sir, said Higgins.

Matthew spoke up. Until we can resolve the matter of David’s wishes, I will cover Willa's expenses from the ranches account.

Chapter 2

WILLA FINISHED PACKING the last of her trunks with the help of Jenny and Ella; she was eager to get away from her aunt's house.  Nothing but bad memories and lies lingered between its dark walls.  If Willa had her way, she would burn the house to the ground.  However, people in the town of Gales Creek already talked about her lack of respect by not wearing black mourning clothes for her aunt.  Burning down the house would only scandalize them further.  Willa shook her head, trying to rid herself of such dark and gloomy thoughts; she was going home to Veranda House.  Elena asked her to stay at the Hacienda, as Willa was their beloved daughter-in-law.  But with their four children returned, the Hayes home was overflowing.  Besides Aolani presented a stronger argument. Veranda House was the McAdams' home place and as David's daughter, she was its rightful mistress. Willa tried to protest; Kehale and Aolani lived there for more than fifteen years.  However, her aunt and uncle quickly overrode her protests; so, she was now going home.  Jenny agreed to come with Willa but Ella declined.  Willa suspected that Ella did not want to work for the Hawaiians.

Willa left the two maids and went downstairs to the library; surprisingly this is the one room she did like.  The bookcases of books, huge fireplace and large window seats created a haven for Willa as she grew up.  Eugenia seldom ventured into it.  Willa went to the shelves and began pulling out her favorite volumes; carefully she packed them in boxes.  Standing on a ladder, Willa moved some books aside to reach her favorite children's volumes.  As she lifted them, her hand brushed against a metal object – it was a locked box, the kind used to store documents or money.  Willa carefully descended the ladder with the box clutch to her side; she took it to the desk.  The young woman never saw the box before, she turned it over with curiosity.  She had an urge to try to force it open but decided to take it to Judge Connors instead.

The clerk showed Willa to the judge's chambers right away; he sat at his desk.  How may I help you, Mrs. Hayes?   

Willa, she replied automatically, after all the man had known her all of her life.  She held out the box to him.  I found this.

He took the box and pushed at the lid gingerly.  It’s locked . . . do you have a key? Willa shook her head. Judge Connor spoke again.  Does it belong to Eugenia?

It must, said the young woman.  But I never saw it before.

The judge took a knife from his desk and jimmied the lock.  The box was full of neatly banded hundred-dollar bills; Connors whistled. A fortune, my dear.  The box also contained a red velvet jewelry bag.

Willa picked up the bag and opened it; a string of match Pearls spilled out.

These are my mother's pearls, she said, shaking out the bag.  Pearl earrings and a bracelet tumbled out on the desk.  How did Eugenia get them?

Your aunt was a forger, an embezzler and now a thief? said the judge harshly.  A letter in the bottom of the box caught the judge’s attention; he picked it up.  Eugenia’s name and address were on it.  The letter’s date was just before Willa’s wedding.  The judge opened it and read it quickly.  He smiled.  It seems your father gave you a large wedding gift my dear.  He handed the letter to her.  He gave his money in Gales Creek Bank to you.  Also, he directed Mansford to deliver the deed to Eugenia's house to you with the stipulation that Eugenia lived there until she dies.  Her allowance was to stay in place.   He assumed you and your husband would live in Veranda House but ask you to allow Kehale and Aolani to live there also, if they did not decide to return to Hawaii.  He, also, asked Matthew to teach you the ropes of running the Gales Creek Ranch.  The Judge shook his head.  Your father also made you a partner in all of his enterprises.

A partner, but I do not know anything about business, exclaimed Willa, reeling with surprise.

You and Matt can sort this all out, said the judge.  David directed Eugenia to give this letter to Mansford to legalize it all.  The judge smiled again.  I'll have my clerk take this to Mansford.  The judge sat back and gazed at Willa fondly.  Congratulations my dear, I believe you have quite a job before you.

Willa felt both anger and joy; anger that Eugenia tried to evade her father's wishes and joy that her father loved her enough to secure her future, but she also felt overwhelmed.

WILLA SMILED AS KEHALE drove them up the incline that led to Veranda House; she was finally going home.  The house, sitting on the hill in a grove of Cottonwood trees, overlooked Gales Creek.  Compared to the Hacienda, the McAdams' house was relatively new; just a quarter of a century old.  The original house burned in the seventies and David replaced it with the Veranda House, designed after the plantation houses in the Hawaiian Islands.  The graceful two-story building, surrounded by a deep porch on all sides, dominated the rise.  Large wooden doors open onto a large foyer, floored in polished oak.  Willa remembered running barefoot across that room with her father in pursuit; their laughter echoed in the high rafters of the ceilings.  To the left, louvered doors led to a large parlor and another set led into a formal dining room.   A spacious library sat across the foyer from the parlor; it was her grandfather's haven when he lived.  Willa spent hours in the room with him, listening to his stories about the early days on Gales Creek Ranch.  The kitchen and servants’ quarters sat in the back of the house.

The second floor contained the master bedroom, a nursery, and several guestrooms. Large sloping roofs covered the porches and protected the rooms from the hot Texas sun.  At the top of the house in the back sat a small fort like room – in earlier times guards stood watch, warning the occupants against marauding Indians and ruthless outlaws. A ringing bell in the fort sent members of the household running to pull the shutters over the windows, making the house almost impregnable.  Later when the land civilized, everyone abandoned the fort-like room except Willa who claimed it as her special hideaway.

Kehale stop the wagon as Aolani came down the steps.  She smiled widely at her niece. Welcome home, Willa Iolani, she said. 

In the last three months, Willa spent more hours on a horse than any other time in her life.  Matthew and Kehale, following her father's advice, set out to teach Willa about every aspect of ranching on Gales Creek Ranch.  She spent a week helping to move cattle from one pasture to another; coming home to Veranda house so tired and dirty, she fell asleep in her bath.  She swallowed the bile in the back of her throat when the stench of burning flesh from calf branding filled her nose.  Willa, feeling immense pride, watched as Gales Creek horses brought top prices at several local auctions. She loved the outdoors, but she learned that much of the ranch's business took place indoors – accountants, bankers, and lawyers wanted equal time.  They – Kehale, Matt and Willa – often worked late into the night, developing plans and strategies to run the ranch with greater efficiency and increase the profits.  Willa felt surprised when both men listen to her and accepted some of her ideas.  Gradually, the wall of isolation that Eugenia created around Willa fell away as everyone at the ranch drew her into their lives.  Since David, her father, contributed to her account in the Gales Creek Bank, Mr. Mansford – the ranch's lawyer – recommended that Willa concentrate on the ranch.  He suggested that she leave her father's other enterprises to David's capable hands.  It still upset her that her father never tried to contact any of them, despite all the inquiries they had sent out.

This evening, Willa led Matthew into the parlor; Kehale followed.  She poured drinks for the men and went to stand before the fireplace.  They were just finishing their meeting; and the men spoke quietly, Willa studied the photographs arranged on the mantelpiece.  The McAdams family were all represented there.  Some of the photos were formal, no doubt taken in a city's studio.  When the old house burned, Marcus, Willa's grandfather, risked his life to save the collection.  Willa reach for the newest photograph, she and Jefferson stared back at her.  It was their wedding picture taken in New Orleans, just weeks before Jefferson died in the Spanish-American War.  She sat it back on the mantel.  Another photograph caught her attention; three young men in Confederate Army uniforms stood staring at the camera. She picked it up as Matthew approached.

We were so cocksure and Peacock proud, said Matt.  Ben, your uncle was just twenty.  David and I, we were just eighteen with only just months separating our birthdays.  He shook his head.  Marcus and Samuel tried to warn us about the dangers of war but we refuse to listen. Four of the bloodiest years I ever lived through . . . we came away without a scratch but not unscathed.

Willa stared at the photograph. What do you mean?

Ben and I came back home. Your uncle developed a recklessness that bordered on insanity. . .  convinced that having survived the war, he was invincible. He took on every challenge; broncos. marauding Indians, cattle thieves. Nothing stopped him until Katie married him and tamed his wildness. Matthew paused.

Willa, studying the man, asked.  How did the war change you?

I saw hell in those years; whole towns burned, crops destroyed, and animals killed where they stood in the fields. . . thousands of dead men on both sides.  It haunted me and I became obsessed; Gales Creek Ranch had to become so strong that no one could touch it.  He laughed harshly. It's a wonder I found time to marry Sarah, my first wife, and father the twins.

Kehale finished his drink and politely excused himself.  Willa sat down. What about David? 

Matthew sat across from her and lit his pipe.  After the war, David did not want to return to the ranch. He wanted his freedom to travel and make his own way in the world.  He had a knack for turning a buck.  Matt smiled and then laugh.  When he was just twelve, he found this honey tree and using smoke to stun the bees, extracted the honeycombs.  After heating them to release the honey, he filled up Mason jars he had borrowed from Veranda House's kitchen.  Then he peddled them in town, replace the jars and made a profit.  Some called it luck; I say it was skill.

Willa smiled, thinking back to her childhood. I remember some of his stories, they were in such exotic places.  Mexico, Brazil, Australia and more.

Matthew nodded, Almost everywhere he traveled, he found a venture to make him more money.  Your father is a generous man, contributing large money to the ranch.   Frowning the rancher poured himself another drink.  After the war, times in Texas were bad. The carpetbaggers tried their best to destroy any southern enterprises, including Gales Creek Ranch. Your father's money saved us more than once.

Matthew stood up and reach for another photograph - her uncle Ben, and his wife Katie posed with Matt and Sarah.  They stood before a flashy Surrey and a team of high-stepping bays. Even hitched to a buggy the horses looked fast.  That’s in 1873.  Marcus paid a photographer to take pictures of the ranch.  I believe if that accident had not happened, your father might have stayed in Hawaii with your mother.

Willa knew about the accident; it is one family story Eugenia relished in telling.  Both Sarah and Katie were pregnant and they persuaded Ben to drive them into town to shop.  They halfheartedly invited Eugenia along but she refused.  She watched as they drove off; their laughter drifted back to her.  As usual, Ben drove at a brisk pace.  One of the ranch's hands watch the buggy start down the steep grade leading to the landing on Gales Creek.  Suddenly a brace of birds burst from cover almost beneath the horses’ hooves. The team, panicking, bolted.  Sarah sat in the backseat of the buggy.  She fell out of the Surrey and died instantly of a broken neck. The Surry, rocking violently from side to side, flew down the grade.  The ranch hand said he could hear Katie screaming; as he watched, the Surrey tipped and roll down the bank.  Ben and Katie died together. The accident devastated both families; Marcus sent for David, asking him to come home.

Matthew, standing up, stretched. It is late, I must go.  Willa rose to escort him to the door.  They stood on the porch watching as a full moon rose.  A Comanche Moon, he commented.  Are you superstitious?

Willa looked up at the moon. No blood stains the surface, we are safe tonight.

Matt grinned.  More than two decades passed since the Comanches raided anywhere in Texas.

Sunday proved to be a lazy day at Veranda House.  Willa, Kehale, and Aolani attended church earlier in the day.  Willa noticed some townspeople, even after more than twenty years, still did not approve of the Hawaiian couple, even if they were Willa's kin.  After the midday meal, Willa retired to her favorite spot on the porch on the creek side of the house.  Wisteria vines, twisted with age but still fragrant, hid her spot where Kehale strung a large woven hammock between two pillars.  Willa changed into a loose-fitting dress favored by her mother's people in the islands.  She lay in the hammock - a novel held her interest.

Hello Willa, said a man's deep voice.

Looking up, Willa inhaled sharply, surprised by the sudden appearance of a man.  She stared down at his feet, clad only in stockings.  That is a dirty trick, Jackson Hayes! She scolded, as she struggled to roll out of the hammock gracefully.

Jackson, smiling wickedly, grabbed Willa’s hand and pulled her to her feet.  Next to him, she appeared small. You are easy to sneak up on.

She gently pushed him away and took a seat on a nearby chair, discreetly hiding her bare feet with her skirt.  In the three months since she returned to the ranch, Willa saw little of Jackson.  He, gone for weeks, attended to business for his father.  Willa felt uncomfortable in his presence, not for anything he did, but because he reminded her so much of Jefferson, her deceased husband. It is good to see you Jackson.  Would you care for some refreshments?

He retreated to lean against a pillar, well aware of Willa’s uneasiness.  He cursed under his breath; his twin still haunted him after two years.  I'm here to deliver an invitation. Elena's father is coming to celebrate Francisca's engagement.  Jackson grinned; he loved parties, especially the ones given by his stepmother.  He, as the son of a wealthy rancher and the most eligible bachelor around, enjoyed them even more as the center of attention.

Willa, picking up a pillow, threw it at Jackson's head. You are a conceited jackass, she said, trying not to giggle.

The Hacienda glowed like a beacon in the warm Texas night; torches on each side of the large wooden gates, welcomed guests into the courtyard.  Even before they reach the house, they heard laughter drifting across the prairie.  The party was already underway when Willa's group arrived.  Kehale helped Aolani and Willa down. A young boy ran up, ready to lead the horses away.  Proudly Kehale led his two women into the inner courtyard.

Large paper lanterns in a multitude of colors, swung gently in the breeze.  They casted soft shadows over the glazed tiles of the patio.  Pots, overflowing with flowers grown in Elena's own garden, filled every niche and corner of the space.  Encased in clear hurricane lamps, candles sat on festive colored tablecloths.  Color, bright and bold, assailed the senses.  A dozen spicy aromas triggered taste buds even before a person saw the array of food; Willa estimated that at least thirty dishes sat on the long table.  Next to the food, a temporary bar held every type of liquor available in the territory. To one side in a small alcove, a band played softly in the background as servants passed among the guests with trays of champagne.

Francisca, lovely in a pale-yellow dress, stood nervously at the side of her handsome betroth.  Carlos, the son of a rancher living close to Elena's father, smiled at his bride to be. The couple knew each other for most of their lives; however, love never spark between them until recently.  Now they were deeply in love; it reminded Willa of her and Jefferson's romance.

Willa, greeted Francisca enthusiastically. Have you met, Carlos?

As children, responded Willa. I believe you pushed me into a horse trough.  Willa smiled at the young man as he recalled the incident.

How ungallant of you. Carlos teased Francisca.

The blushing young man turned to his betroth and smiled. But my love, as I remember, you urged me on!

Francisca also blushed as she protested her innocence. I didn't, she insisted.

But yes, you did, insisted Willa grinning.  You were a brat!

And such an adorable brat, said Carlos, kissing the hand of his bride to be.

Willa moved aside as a new guest claimed the young couple's attention. As she moved through the crowd, she found herself face-to-face with Judge Connors and his wife, Constance, once Eugenia's closest friend.  Her high, whining voice carried across the patio.

This younger generation has no respect for traditions, said Constance, eyeing Willa's emerald gown with distaste -black being the only color suitable for a person in mourning.

Willa smiled her most winning smile. Aunt Eugenia despised hypocrites, Mrs. Connors. Everyone knew that

Just as the woman was about to launch a lecture, Jackson interrupted. Excuse me, Mrs. Connors, but Willa Iolani promised me this dance.  They left the older woman gulping air as Jackson pulled his sister-in-law, laughingly, into a waltz.

Jackson, my hero, joked Willa.

He grinned down at her.  Dragons are my specialty.

After the dance ended, they climbed the stairs to the second story balcony where Elena arranged the seating so guests could watch the dancing below.  Jackson grab some champagne glasses on the way up.  You've been avoiding me, Willa McAdams Hayes.

You've been busy Jackson Andrew Hayes, she replied.

True, he agreed, taking a sip of his champagne.  Pa had me riding all over the ranch. Hardly been home at all in the last few months.  He watched Willa carefully.  Matt knows you are not over Jefferson yet . . . he doesn't want me to make a fool of myself.

Willa sighed deeply. Jackson . . .

He held up his hands. Someday Willa Iolani, you'll fall in love again and when you do, I aim to be the one standing beside you.  Unfortunately, in the middle of his heartfelt declaration, one of the local beauties -Lydia Mansford -discovered their retreat.

There you are Jackson. she gushed with sweetness.  I've searched everywhere for you.  Surely, you haven't forgot your promise to dance with me.  She pouted prettily as she glanced at Willa.  You don't mind, do you?

Willa shook her head.  I'm sure Jackson is delighted to fulfill his promise, she replied graciously.  He glared at his sister-in-law as the young woman pulled him along the balcony. 

Willa, fanning herself, thought that it was hard work to finally take control of one’s own life. 

Chapter 3

PERHAPS THE MENTION of Jefferson's name brought on the memories; for once, Willa did not push them away.  In her mind, she saw the wild flowers – Bluebonnets, Indian Paintbrushes, and Sunflowers – swaying in the gentle breeze as sunlight danced across the wide prairies. Katydids, crickets, and tree frogs created a symphony, filling the Texas day with their sounds.  That year, her eighteenth, the world around her was alive but Willa felt like a butterfly trapped in a cocoon - if only she could escape her aunt Eugenia's clutches.  Willa felt destined to follow in her aunt's footsteps – an angry old maid secretly reading romantic novels in a half-darkened bedroom.  Willa, with her temper flaring, kicked a flowerpot down the stairs.  She winced with pain.

Out of sorts, Miss Willa? asked a man with a mocking voice.  His appearance caught her by surprise, but it was a pleasant surprise.

Delighted, Willa - skipping down the steps - limped slightly. Jefferson, she said with a happy smile. When did you get back? she asked, grinning at one of her oldest friends.  I missed you so.

Beneath her smile, Jefferson sensed Willa's tension.  Come ride with me, he invited.

Her eyes briefly flashed with excitement and then dulled.  Aunt Eugenia sent Sundance to Veranda House as punishment for me not riding like a proper lady.

A picture of Willa in a proper riding habit with a ridiculously small hat perched on her head as she balanced on a ladies’ side saddle set Jefferson to chuckling. A proper lady, murmured Jefferson, shaking his head.  Never happen.

Jefferson Monroe Hayes, you stop laughing! she demanded.  Willa flush deeply; she hated it when either of the twins teased her.

Peace princess, he said, using her old nickname.  He held out his hand. Come on.

She hesitated, looking around quickly.  Seeing no sign of her aunt lurking about, she grabbed his hand and swung up behind him.  Jefferson held his horse steady as Willa tucked in her full skirts.  She leaned forward and placed her arms about her friend's middle.  Jefferson stiffened as Willa pressed against his back.   He recognized his reaction, but it surprised him to feel it with Willa, his childhood friend.

Don't go through the town, she pleaded.  We’ll scandalize Aunt Eugenia.

He nodded; not trusting his voice to stay steady.  He rode on the main road, turning off to ride along the banks of Gales Creek.  They stopped by a large outcropping of rocks, partly submerged in the creek.  It was their old swimming hole that they frequent during their childhood.  They spent many of their summer days there.  Jefferson, swinging his leg over the saddle horn, slid to the ground; he turned to help her down, acutely aware of the slender young woman in his arms.  Jefferson wondered how Willa matured so quickly right under his nose.

With her hands resting on Jefferson's shoulder, Willa glanced into his eyes; his intense stare caught her by surprise.  She stumbled back a step.  Her heart skipped a beat and a blush spread across her cheeks.  Willa shook her head.  This was her childhood friend- the boy she pelted with mud, climbed Pecan trees with, and raided the kitchens of Veranda House and the Hacienda.  Today she felt a shift in their relationship.

Jefferson cleared his throat.  So, princess, is aunt Eugenia still giving you hell?  he asked, using her childhood nickname again to break the tension springing up between them.

Willa smiled over her shoulder at him as she walked to a log near the edge of the creek. Sitting down, she kicked off her shoes.  Then standing, she reached between her legs and grabbed the back hem of her garment.  She pulled it up and tucked it into the front waistband of her skirt.  The bunched-up garment left her legs below her knees fully exposed; the sight delighted Jefferson.  Unaware of his interest, Willa waded into the creek.  The cool mud oozed between her toes as she turned to look at Jefferson. 

Aunt Eugenia, the Dragon lady, is ruining my life, said Willa with a dramatic gesture.  Jefferson felt an urge to laugh.  She ignored him and spoke again. Have you ever wondered why I'm twenty and still unmarried? she asked.  Willa glared at him as if he were responsible.  Aunt Eugenia . . . she scared off every young man whoever dared to court me.

God bless Aunt Eugenia, thought Jefferson, with savage glee.  And just how many suitors courted you, Miss McAdams? he asked, surprised by the jealousy he felt.

Only two, seriously, she replied, wading toward the flat rocks at the base of the outcropping.  Bobby Rockford lasted almost a whole month before she drove him off. Jefferson, gathering Willa’s shoes, walked out on the dry rocks.  He intended to help her scramble up the shelf spreading out on their side of the bank.  On Willa's right, the water was deeper. Unless I find someone brave enough to face down the Dragon Lady, I'll die an old maid, commented Willa, dramatically.

She reached for his outstretched hand.  She felt him grab her wrist just as her foot slipped off the edge of the shelf.  Willa's weight, as slight as it was, sent him tumbling headlong into the deepest part of the pool.  Jefferson came up sputtering as he struggled to pull off his boots which were filling up with water.  He emptied them out and heaved them up onto the rocks.  Willa, also in deeper water struggled with her sodden skirts as she tried to reach the dry rocks.  She felt Jefferson's arm come about her.

Just relax, Willa, I have you, he said softly."  Willa laid against him as he swam them towards the dry rocks.  When his feet touched the muddy bottom, Jefferson's swept her up into his arms and waded towards shore.

Are you alright? he asked

She shook her head as she sat on the flat dry rock.  I think I cut my foot.  Willa pulled her skirt aside to reveal a deep gash running on the side of her foot from her small toe to her heel. She must have caught the edge of the sharp rock as she fell.  The wound bled profusely.

Jefferson tore a strip from her petticoat and dipped it into the creek; carefully, he cleaned her wound.  It isn't deep, he said soothingly.  It should stop bleeding soon.  He pressed the cloth against her foot.

Willa, unbuttoning her blouse, felt surprise to see Jefferson blushing.  For mercy sakes, Jefferson, you know our clothes will dry quicker if we spread them out.  I'll wear enough to preserve your modesty, she teased.  She pulled off her heavy skirt and top petticoat which she spread out on the rocks.  Willa sat cross-legged in the sun as she unpinned her hair and fanned it out over her shoulders to dry; her chemise, bloomers, and another petticoat still covered her.

Jefferson reluctantly shed his shirt and spread it out on the rocks; he then took off his socks and laid them out also. Jefferson, stretching out on the rock, tucked his hands behind his head and stared at the trees overhead; much safer than staring at Willa. Did you really date Bobby Rockford? he asked.

Gales Creek isn't exactly crawling with eligible bachelors, she replied tartly.

Jackson is available?  Jefferson tensed, part of him did not want to know.

Willa chuckled. He was the first boy whoever tried to kiss me.  I boxed his ears soundly.  She grinned wickedly.  He said I almost turned him away from the fairer sex.

Jefferson snorted.  His brother was a nightmare for every mother with a daughter of marriageable age.  He sought romantic conquests like a bear goes after honey.  Jackson's legendary list of broken hearts covered most of Texas.  Jefferson closed his eyes.

A shadow fell across his face and a strand of hair caressed his cheek.  Jefferson opened his eyes slowly to find Willa bending over him.  She smiled. Do you kiss well, Mr. Jefferson Hayes? she asked, her lips just inches above his mouth.

Before he could reply, she kissed him.  His breath caught in his throat as he tentatively kissed her back.  He slowly brought his arms up and pressed her against his chest as he deepened the kiss.

Willa moaned softly but then pulled back reluctantly to look at him.  Aunt Eugenia says a proper lady does not enjoy having a man's attentions forced on her, she teased, laughing softly, she is so wrong.   Willa, lying against him, felt a rumble of laughter starting deep within his chest.

You are a wanton woman, Willa Iolani McAdams, he chuckled.

If that is true, Mr. Hayes, please kiss me again, she replied, trying to suppress her giggles.

Later Jefferson safely returned Willa to her aunt's house; he smiled as she stood on the bottom step watching him.  Willa's hair, creeping from its pins for the second time, tumble down her back in a flowing cascade.  Her flushed face, covered with streaks of dirt, was full of happiness.  Willa's fashionable morning dress, crumpled and covered dust, had a torn petticoat dragging below the gown's hem.  Willa, holding her shoes, leaned against the steps railing; her feet, one wrapped in a soiled bandage, peeped out from beneath her ruined skirts.  She showed no contrition; instead, she was bewitchingly beautiful.

He leaned down from his saddle. Aunt Eugenia scares me not.

She smiled at him mischievously. You've never courted me, she challenged.

The door suddenly open behind them; they jerked apart as Eugenia stepped out onto the porch.  Her disapproving glance swept over them, taking in the disheveled appearance of both Willa and Jefferson.  Her lips tightened into a thin disagreeable line.

Aunt Eugenia, said Jefferson, reaching up to tip his hat.  Too late he remembered that his newly bought Stetson either floated down the creek or resided as a sodden lump on the bottom of Gales Creek.  Damn, he loved that hat.

The older woman folded her hands at her waist.  Welcome home, Jefferson, she said stiffly.  Your parents must be happy to have back.  Her voice held all the warmth of an Arctic glacier.

Thank you, ma'am, he said, avoiding a look at Willa who barely suppressed her laughter.

Why are you here, boy? Eugenia inquired.

At first, he seemed confused and then he smiled at Willa. Elena is throwing me a homecoming party, to celebrate my graduation, a week from Saturday. I am to invite you also.

Eugenia frowned.  We must check our calendars . . .

Willa smiled eagerly as she interrupted her aunt.  We will be there!

THEY COURTED THROUGH the late spring and early summer under Aunt Eugenia's watchful eyes.  The couple had everyone’s blessings except for Willa’s aunt.  She had no reason to object - Jefferson was more than acceptable as match for her niece.  At the Hayes' annual Fourth of July celebration, Willa and Jefferson announced their engagement and set their wedding date for the first Saturday in April in the next year.

As their wedding day approach, war talk in the country reached a fever pitch.  It was goaded on by yellow journalism practices by William Hurst of the New York Journal and Joseph Pulitzer of the New York World.  Both publishers exploited the Spanish cruelties in Cuba and the gallant fight of the revolutionaries of the island, until the American public shouted for justice. From the ranks of government, Theodore Roosevelt rose as a spokesman for the warmongers in America.  He had goals: a war would unite America and heal the wounds still lingering from the Civil War, it would strengthen the Navy and it would settle the United States as a world power.  A war hero's image would not damage Teddy Roosevelt's political ambitions either.  A war with Spain fed into everybody's ambitions. Then the US Maine, an American warship, blew up in Havana harbor without any explanation, adding fuel to the war talk.

Willa, beautiful in her mother's wedding gown, held her husband's hand as they stood up on the balcony watching the guest dance below in the large courtyard.  The day was magical, from the sunlit ceremony in the church to Elena’s laughter filled fiesta.  However, they needed to leave now to catch their train.  As Willa turned to enter her room, she heard voices growing louder.  Willa, leaning over the rail, saw a group of men gathered in the corner; they were passing around a jug and arguing.

We should go down to Cuba right now, said Bobby Rockford, Willa's former beau.

The poor sods are dying in droves while we attend fancy parties, added another man.

The damn Spaniards don't belong here in our backyard, said Bobby, taking a deep gulp from the jug.

Willa felt surprise to see her brother-in-law, Jackson, among the gathered men.  Matthew Hayes, Jackson's father, strongly opposed the war.  The men, passing the jug around again, were drinking liberally; Jackson did not touch the liquor.   Elena, his stepmother, forbade any of her men to become drunk at her home.

Jefferson touched her arm gently. We must go soon, he said, smiling at her.  Willa, returning his smile, felt a shadow pass over her happiness.

NEW ORLEANS, EVERYTHING that Eugenia claimed, enchanted both Willa and Jefferson; despite all his traveling, Jefferson never visited the city.  The city's foreignness – founded by the Spanish, given to the French, and sold to the Americans – was like exotic spices blended for a unique taste.  Odd shops with bewildering stock, twisting alleyways, and hidden courtyards infused New Orleans with a sense of mystery and intrigue -so unlike the vast openness of the Texas prairies.  The young lovers strolled along flower bordered boulevards, ate in the city's finest restaurants, attended the theater, and danced until dawn.  Most days, they slept late into the morning; a most unusual habit for the off springs of hardworking ranchers.  The couple, insulated in their own private world, shut out the turmoil overtaking the nation until April twenty-fifth dawned.  They open their windows to the excited voices of the newspaper boys; the United States declared war on Spain.  Jefferson, not waiting for Willa to finish dressing, rushed out the door.

I'll be back soon, he said as he left.

Hours later he returned to their room, she knew he was tipsy and excited.  Jefferson, tell me the news? asked Willa.

President McKinley call for one hundred twenty-five thousand volunteers two days ago.  He pulled a telegram from his jacket pocket.  Jackson anticipated McKinley's move and formed up the Gales Creek’s volunteers weeks ago.  He is already on the move.

The news stunned Willa. You're involved?

From the start, he admitted proudly, unaware of his wife's growing bewilderment.

Even knowing how your father feels about the war? demanded Willa.

Jefferson looked defiant. Pa had his war and this is ours!

Willa shook her head; she could not believe her level-headed husband had suddenly turned addled brained.  She, remembering the conversation she had with Matt just months before, wondered if he ever spoke to his sons about his experiences in the Civil War.  Surely no sane man could want to go to war.

Suddenly she grew suspicious; neither Jackson nor Jefferson possessed enough cash money to finance such a venture.  Willa knew the twins could not use Gales Creek Ranch as collateral to secure a loan