Galveston: Between Wind And Water (A Historical Literary Fiction Novel Filled with Romance and Drama) Read Free Page A

my son. I’ll die before I let you or the rest of you lickfinger cowards touch us.
    Gus’s tone became even more amiable. “No ma’am. Captain Boland didn’t mean anything by that, and your boy didn’t hurt me. I’m fine. We’re just trying to make you see sense.”
    Lorena cried softly and pulled Bret to her breast. “Go away. You’re the traitors. Attacking innocent women and children. You call yourself the home guard? Whose home are you protecting?”
    “Come now, Lorena,” Captain Boland said. “If your husband had been loyal to the Confederacy, we’d all be sitting down to turkey dinner on Sunday.”
    The men’s hushed laughter rose through the attic.
    “But to show you I’m still a gentleman. I’m going to give you a minute to think about your predicament again and decide what’s best for your family.”
    Boot heels and furniture screeched against the floor.
    “And I will still honor my original promise to you and do my best to spare your husband.”
    Lorena wasn’t listening to anything Captain Boland said. She pulled an old blue pea jacket from a trunk and told Bret to put it on while she searched for boots.
    “Lorena? Lorena McGowan. Damn it! Answer me, woman!”
    She had nothing more to say to any of them. The noise below was the desperation of the damned, for she would never forget this day. Pray as she did, Lorena knew God wasn’t going to save her. But there was still a chance she could save her son and husband.
    She pulled Bret close and whispered, “Reverend Vaughan believes in our cause. Tell him you need to spend the night until your father arrives on the eleven o’clock coach tomorrow.”
    Lorena led him to the dormer window and silently pushed open the shutters. It was just wide enough to allow Bret’s slender body to pass through. “Once you’re on the sill, darling, you’ll have to edge yourself around until you can reach a branch of the old oak.” She hugged him and felt him tremble in her arms. “Don’t be frightened, Bret. I’ve seen you jump to that branch many times.”
    “I’m—I’m not afraid.” He wrapped his thin arms around her neck.
    “Promise me you’ll meet your father at the station tomorrow for the eleven o’clock coach.”
    Bret wiped back his tears and looked up at her. “I promise, Mother. I know a shortcut to the Reverend’s home. No one will see me.”
    Lorena peered through the window. In the front yard, the vigilantes’ unattended horses stood tethered to the posts by the water trough. Thank God there were no more of them waiting outside.
    She helped her son on to the sill just as the first axe head cracked through the attic hatch, then another, and another. With strength brought on by fear and supreme determination to live she held onto her only son as long as she could.
    Bret took another step and Lorena’s hands no longer touched him. He edged his way along the ledge and in another few moments he was gone from her sight around the cornice as the axe splintered the attic door.
     
    Captain Hugh Boland watched Travis Haines check the knot on the noose before throwing the first rope over the gibbet. Cordage this thick could snap a steer’s neck. Better to have it too strong than have it fray and tear before the day was done, because the Lord knew there would be more than enough chances of that today.
    The captain took off his hat and wiped the sweat of his hangover from his forehead. At eleven o’clock in the morning, the sun felt too hot for late October.
    After the busy night at the McGowan ranch, the air seemed to cling to his skin and not even the faintest breeze stirred to cool his brow. But it had been worth it. Napoleon brandy started the fire down below, and that traitor’s whore kept the flames burnin’ all night.
    Haines whistled through his teeth and threw another rope over the long gibbet. A small crowd interested in the proceedings had assembled.
    Many of the women turned their eyes this way and that while they fanned