Moon Flower (Gone-to-Texas Trilogy) by Henke Shirl

Author:Henke, Shirl [Henke, Shirl]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Shirl Henke
Published: 2011-09-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

The trip to San Antonio was made under far more pleasant conditions than the runaway flight east had been. The weather turned warm and sunny; the raw, miserable drizzle ended; and a late, lush spring finally arrived. Deborah welcomed their steady progress along the San Antonio Road.

The scenery was as glorious as the dry, clean air. At night, the sky was filled with brilliant stars, each blazing forth as if claiming the right to be the one on the Texas flag. During the day, they rode over gently swelling hills, past burbling, clear springs that magically appeared from underground sources, leaving the land filled with riotous carpets of wildflowers: bluebonnets, buttercups, and Indian paintbrush. Their brilliant colors and pungent perfume were balm to Deborah's weary soul and body.

She stretched and rubbed her aching back. Her stomach was noticeably protuberant now and she had taken to wearing high waisted skirts with pleats in front to allow her freedom of movement.

“Yew feelin' poorly?” Obedience asked solicitously, noting her young friend's stiff movements as she climbed off the wagon seat.

Deborah smiled. “No, just a little tired and sore from all this kicking.” She grinned as she rubbed her belly. “She's going to be a regular Texas hellion.”

Obedience harrumphed. “Or he's gonna be. Yew settle on names yet?”

“I'm still tending toward Katherine, but perhaps Lenore. She is a very dear friend I shall never see again. How does Lenore Obedience sound to you?” She cocked her head, a gamin grin on her lips.

Obedience threw up her hands, soup ladle and all, and rocked back on her heels. “Jehoshaphat! What a mouthful! I'd bet me half this wagonload 'o goods that it'll be yer pa's namesake 'n save th' pore critter from bein' cursed with my ugly handle.”

Suppressing a chuckle, Deborah replied, “Why only half the wagonload, Obedience?”

The older woman looked disgustedly at her greenhorn charge. “I got ta teach yew how ta play poker. Odds is only half thet yew’ll git yore girl, so I'll only bet half I git my boy.”

‘‘Well, if he turns out like your sons, I'll not be sorry,” Deborah equivocated, refusing to think about the child turning out like Rafael.

Sensing the direction of Deborah's thoughts, Obedience changed the subject. “We should git inta Santone tomorrow. Cain't rightly wait ta see it, after hearin' all Seth's stories.”

“Is it really very Spanish-looking? I hope the Mexican townspeople won't resent us.”

Obedience gestured dismissively and said, “Yew mean the Tejano townsfolk? Why, Jehoshaphat! Ain't yew niver heerd o' Texas's Vice President Lorenzo Zavala er Colonel Juan Seguin in General Sam's army? The Tejanos wuz as afeard o' Santy Anny as anyone. Lots o' them folks sent food 'n supplies ta th' men inside th' Alamo, some even fought 'n died with ‘em. Nah, we ain't got nothin' ta fear from Tejanos—thet's whut the Mexican Texians is called.”

“Tejanos,” Deborah rolled the unfamiliar word around on her tongue. “Jim Slade, the young lieutenant who saved my life, is a Tejano or sort of. His mother was a Sandoval who married a Virginian.

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