Mordecai said, “Aunt Annie ain’t livin’ with Uncle Andrew and Aunt Petra no more.”

James blinked. “Did Petra run her off?” That would not have surprised him, given Annie’s penchant for running things.

“No, Aunt Annie decided she was a burden, and she wanted to live in a house of her own. So we taken those logs you had piled up, and added some more to them, and we built her a house up there on your place.”

“My place? You mean it’s still mine?”

“Ain’t nobody come and taken it away. I think Aunt Annie would shoot anybody that tried.”

“Them Mexican soldiers, they been huntin’ me?”

Mordecai nodded solemnly. “Every so often. They poke around a little but leave when they can’t find you. They don’t hurt anybody. You come to stay, Uncle James?”

“If the soldiers don’t catch me.”

He rode on, circling far enough around the cows to avoid turning them back. The first cabin was Michael’s. He saw the slight figure of Marie Lewis standing in the dog-run, shading her eyes with her hands. She ran a little way out into the open, then stopped, slumping a little. James sensed that she, like Mordecai, had thought at first he was Michael.

He got down from the bay horse and hugged his sister-in-law. “I’m sorry, Marie.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry I’m not Michael. I saw Mordecai back yonder a ways. He told me. But I reckon Michael’ll be along pretty soon. All the trouble appears to be over.”

Her gaze went to Sly Shipman, and James had to explain about the fight at Velasco. He left out most of the details, because they would only intensify her concern for her missing husband.

Trying to change the subject and lift her spirits, he said, “It hadn’t been but a little while since we left your daddy over in Natchitoches. Sly and me, we been partnerin’ with him a right smart.”

“I know. It’s a wonder you haven’t all been put in jail.”

By the time James and Shipman had answered her many questions about the parents and the family she had not seen in years, the sparkle had returned to Marie’s dark eyes, pushing the worry aside. James enjoyed listening to the French accent he had once thought odd. After the time he had spent in Louisiana, it sounded natural.

Riding away, Shipman said, “She’s too pretty to be old Baptiste’s daughter. Must take after her mother’s side of the family.”

James nodded but looked back at the cabin they were leaving behind. “I wish he wouldn’t do that.”

“Who, do what?”

“Michael, go off and leave her thataway. Andrew says he gets an itchy foot every so often. Can’t help himself. Says he’s like our daddy used to be, always lookin’ for a reason to ride over the hill and see what’s out yonder.”

Shipman observed, “If it hadn’t been for him and his restless nature, there wouldn’t none of you Lewises be in Texas.”

“I reckon you’re right. But that’s a fine little woman back there. I wish Michael wouldn’t go off and leave her.”