Texas Proud (Vincente 2) by Constance O'Banyon

horse. Jess McVee
joined Harvey and they stood silently watching
Noble disappear in the distance.

    "He won't find any friends in this town," Jess
stated flatly. "Sam Rutledge was well respected
'round here, and there are those of us who still
think Noble Vincente back-shot him. Did it, and
got away with it."
    "I didn't know Mr. Rutledge, but I surely like
that pretty daughter of his. I'm kinda sweet on Rachel Rutledge, but I ain't told her yet. It's not right
that some rich bastard got away with killing her
pa.
    Jess glanced at the deputy in astonishment. Did
the man really think that Rachel would be interested in the likes of him? He grinned, trying not
to laugh. "Rachel would probably look kindly on
the man who puts her pa's killer away." He was
baiting Harvey, whom he'd never credited with
having much gumption. "'Course, Sheriff Crenshaw never believed that Noble killed Sam. At the
time, he said there wasn't enough evidence to take
to court. The circuit judge agreed with him. I figure if you'd been sheriff at the time, things woulda
been different." He continued to bolster the deputy's ego while planting numerous seeds of ideas,
wondering if they'd take root inside Harvey's simple mind. "I always wondered how much Don
Reinaldo paid the judge to get him to let his son
go free."
    Harvey felt a stirring of excitement as he thought what it would mean to his standing in the
county if he got rid of that Spanish bastard.
"There's other ways to give justice a little push."
Cunning brightened his eyes. "Sometimes you just
have to step outside the law."

    The heat beat down with punishing force as Noble
rode toward home. He clenched his jaw, still angered by what had happened in town. He should
have been prepared for the hostile attitudes today but he hadn't been. Damn them all! Why
should it matter what they thought of him?
    But strangely enough, it did.
    He detoured around the main gate to Casa del
Sol and guided his horse toward the river. When
he got there, he dismounted and walked to the
water's edge, staring into the muddy depths. He'd
always loved the Brazos, which snaked its way
through hundreds of miles of Texas. It was here,
beneath this very cottonwood tree, that he had
fished many times with his father, here that he'd
learned to swim and dive off the high banks. But
boyhood memories brought no comfort to him today; they were part of a past that was dead and
gone.
    "It's been a hell of a day," he observed aloud. He
picked up a stone and skipped it across the water,
watching it sink into the murky depths. "And
worst yet, I'm beginning to talk to myself."
    On a sudden impulse he unbuckled his gun belt
and draped it across his saddle. He then pro ceeded to remove his boots, and stripped off the
rest of his clothes, dropping them into a careless
heap. Naked as the day he was born, he took a
deep breath and plunged into the river.

    The water felt cool and soothing as it closed
over him. It was peaceful and serene, so he
plunged deeper until he reached the riverbed. He
allowed the swift current to carry him downstream without ever coming up for air. He wondered what it would feel like never to come up.
His chest felt tight and his lungs begged for air.
Above him was the real world awash in sunlight
and pain-here, there was silence, forgetfulness.
    Then, uninvited and unwelcome, a pair of green
eyes invaded his sanctuary eyes that had once
danced with laughter, but now reflected cold hatred. He shot upward toward the light and, gasping, dragged air into his starving lungs. His first
breath was painful and he quickly took another,
and another. When he was breathing normally, he
looked around him, determining that he'd been
swept some distance from where he'd left his
clothing. With strong strokes, he swam against
the current until he rounded a bend in the river.
    As if his thinking about her made her appear,
Rachel sat upon the bank, her trouser-clad legs
stretched out