Texas Angel, 2-in-1 Read Free

screamed Elise.
    “If Kendell would help you run away, he would be a felon himself. But he would never do that because he has too much respect for the system in which he was nurtured.” William gulped down the bourbon he had ignored until now. “Thomson’s lawyer will be here in a few days to verify his claims and to collect his . . . property.”
    “You can’t do this!” Elise jumped from her seat and threw herself at her father-in-laws feet. “I beg you. Think of your granddaughter . . . for her sake, please don’t do this!”
    “You belong with your own kind,” William said coldly.
    Elise then went to her husband and fell on her knees before him. “Kendell! You could not be so cruel. Our baby . . . what will become of her . . . of me? Has your love grown cold so quickly? I know you must still care. Have mercy on us!”
    He turned his back on her. And in that moment, there on her knees before a rich white planter, she truly felt who she was—a despised slave, and nothing more.

CHAPTER
    3
    A BILLOWING CLOUD OF DUST ENVELOPED the wagon, blurring the eyes of the passengers, choking their throats, and dampening their spirits. Benjamin Sinclair, seated next to the driver of the wagon, was thirty-three years old, tall, lean, and, despite his well-muscled body, appeared unsuited to travel upon a trail in the wilds of America. His handsome, clean-shaven face, though covered with grit now, had an intelligent, scholarly look that fit more with his gentlemanly garb of corduroy trousers, black serge coat, waistcoat, and silk cravat than with his surroundings. His blond, baby-fine hair further softened the initial impressions his physique might lead one to form of this man. Only his eyes, a vibrant blue, almost turquoise, hinted of a fire, an inner grit matching that of the wilderness trail.
    At the moment, however, even that fire was dimmed. He longed for the sights and sounds of civilization after so many weeks of travel through the wilderness. Then he silently scolded himself for dwelling too much upon temporal comforts, placing them above that of his holy calling.
    He had known from the beginning that his mission to the wasteland of Texas would not be easy.
    Unfortunately, the endless days upon the trail—the hardships, the fear of molestation by Indians, wild animals, or highwaymen—had dimmed his vision. Moreover, it had been difficult watching his family suffer. Benjamin had not the funds to purchase steamboat fare, so they made their way on the hard trail. The trip had taken its toll on his wife, Rebekah, who was several months advanced with child. She had eaten little food and was now so weak she could barely sit upright in the back of the wagon where she was wedged in with the children, their belongings, and a load of supplies their guide had brought.
    Benjamin wondered many times during the long days of travel if he had made the right decision, if he truly had heard the voice of God calling him to minister to the heathen wilds of Texas. When he wasn’t occupied with the labors of survival, he was on his knees beseeching God’s reaffirmation of his call.
    “Are we almost there?” a whining voice called out.
    Benjamin turned in his seat next to the driver to meet the questioning gaze of his twelve-year-old son. “Be still, Micah,” Benjamin said.
    “Your complaints will not hurry this wagon along.”
    “Another hour or so will get us to Natchez,” interjected the driver.
    Benjamin shot the man a cross glance. Tom Fife, their guide, had been an unsavory companion for the last week, but Benjamin tried to be patient. After all, the man had rescued them when their previous guide had left them stranded on the banks of a swollen river far from their destination. The scoundrel had stolen their horses, leaving them only a wagon with a broken axle. Fife, driving a wagon drawn by two huge mules and loaded with furs and other trade goods, happened along and showed them a better crossing. He then offered them