Authors: Texas Destiny
Lorraine Heath (19 page)
She followed him to the barn. Dallas was sitting just inside the doorway, his head pressed back against the wall, his eyes closed. Dust coated his clothes. Blood trailed slowly down his bruised and swelling cheek.
“Oh, my goodness, what happened?” Amelia exclaimed as she knelt beside him.
His eyes flew open, and he glared over her shoulder at Austin. “I told you to get the cook.”
“I know, but I figured you probably just forgot that we had a woman here to tend to our needs.”
“Amelia, go back to bed,” Dallas ordered. “I’ll get Cookie.”
He started to rise, and Amelia placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take care of you, but we’ll need to move to the kitchen.”
“That wouldn’t be proper.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re not married, and it’s the dead of night.”
She sighed. “You’re hurt. You’re the man I’m going to marry. Surely the men who work for you know that I can trust you in my kitchen.”
She could see the arguments running through his mind. She thought she might never understand the way a man thought. “It makes no sense that I can travel across the state with your brother and not damage my reputation, but helping you in a time of need will mark me as a loose woman.”
He averted his gaze and struggled to his feet. “All right.” He pointed a menacing finger at Austin. “This goes no further than you and me.”
Austin nodded, but Amelia saw the confusion in his eyes, a confusion she understood.
“Dallas will be all right,” she assured Austin as they walked to the house.
Once inside the kitchen, Dallas pulled a chair out from the table and dropped his aching body into place. Austin hitched up a hip and sat on the table.
“Make yourself useful and build a fire in the stove for Amelia. We’ll be needing warm water.”
Austin slid off the table and went about the task, dropping three logs in the process. Dallas had a feeling Austin had grown sweet on Amelia. He couldn’t blame the boy. They were a young man’s feelings, no threat to him.
He watched as Amelia warmed the water. He’d been so grateful to finally see her in person when she’d first arrived at the ranch that he hadn’t given a lot of thought to what she’d endured in getting here. He should have. He should have grilled Houston for an accounting of every day—
“How did you get hurt?” she asked as she set a bowl of warm water on the table and sat beside him. She dipped the cloth into the water and gently dabbed at his cheek.
Humiliation swamped him. He would have preferred a bullet to a fist. “I fell off my horse.”
Her hand stilled, and she searched his face. He kept it as still as stone, knowing she was looking for the truth, hoping she didn’t find it. He’d never lied before, and he had no idea if he was covering it up.
“I couldn’t sleep. I go riding when I can’t sleep.”
She smiled softly. “Well, then, I’m certainly marrying into the right family. You don’t sleep. Houston doesn’t sleep. I don’t sleep.” She glanced at Austin. He’d returned to his spot at the end of the table. “Do you sleep?”
“Not in the bunkhouse. Too many men snoring. Dallas is the worst. You won’t get any sleep at all after you marry him.”
“If I can sleep through Houston snoring, I can sleep through anyone snoring.”
“I’m probably louder,” Dallas said, wondering what had prompted such a childish response. He’d never felt competitive where Houston was concerned. He’d always known he was the better of the two. His father had drilled that lesson into him, every chance he got, pointing out Dallas’s strengths and Houston’s weaknesses.
Her smile increased. “I won’t hold that against you.” She withdrew the needle from her sleeve. “I think I should sew that up.”
He nodded toward Austin. “Go get the whiskey.”
Austin hopped off the table and headed for Dallas’s office. Amelia continued to dab at his face, so gently. Before he could think, he’d cradled her cheek in his palm and carried his lips to hers. She sighed in surprise, and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth.
She returned the kiss timidly, almost as though she were afraid. Lord, he didn’t want her to be afraid, not of him, not of anything. He drew back and studied her face. So innocent. He was ashamed of his earlier doubts. He’d deserved the punch Houston had given him; deserved it and a lot more.
“It’s gonna be a long two months,” he said.
She blushed prettily, so damned prettily, that for the first time, he saw the journey through his brother’s eyes. And he didn’t like what he saw. Not one damn bit.
Long before dawn, Amelia sat on the back porch, waiting, hoping that she was wrong.
She smiled as Austin appeared through the darkness, his long legs carrying him toward the back porch, his violin tucked beneath his arm.
“Mornin’,” he said as he sat beside her and positioned his violin beneath his chin.
“Did Dallas ride out with the men?”
“No, ma’am. He rode out right after we left you. Said he had some business to take care of.”
Panic swelled within her as she imagined exactly what that business might entail. She shouldn’t have waited. She should have ridden out by herself. “Will you take me to see Houston?”
Grimacing, he tapped the bow on the violin.
“Dallas told me not to take you out to Houston’s place.”
Her panic increased as she stood. “Then I’ll go alone.”
Austin jumped to his feet. “You can’t do that.”
“I need to see how badly Houston is hurt.”
“What makes you think he’s hurt?”
She tilted her head and studied him, wondering when it was that people lost the innocent way they viewed life. “I’ve seen Dallas ride. He didn’t fall off his horse.”
“Then what happened?”
Reaching up, she brushed the dark hair from his youthful brow. He ducked his head in embarrassment at her attentions. “I think he and Houston got into a fight.”
“Houston? Ah, no, ma’am. Houston wouldn’t have hit him. Houston never fights. Maybe Dallas ran into some cattle rustlers and just wanted to spare you the worry.”
“Then why did he tell you not to take me to see Houston?”
“I don’t know. He’s not a man I question.”
“I know that you’re probably right, and I’m probably wrong, but I need to see Houston.”
He sighed heavily. “What if I just went to check on him?”
“No, I need to see him.”
“All right. I’ll get our horses.”
She heard him muttering oaths as he strode away. If she was right, she expected to be muttering a few of her own before the day was over.
“See? He’s just fine,” Austin said as they brought their horses to a halt at the edge of Houston’s property. “He wouldn’t be inside the corral working with the palomino if he wasn’t.”
“I want to see him more closely.”
She started to urge the horse forward, but Austin snaked out his hand and grabbed her arm.
“We can’t go ridin’ in there while he’s alone in the corral. We spook that horse, and she’ll pound Houston into the ground.”
“All right, I’ll walk.”
She dismounted, only to find Austin barring her way.
“You know, you are more stubborn than Dallas ever thought about being. Let me tie these horses up over at that bush and I’ll walk with you. If we don’t do this right, we’ll get him killed.”
“I know how to approach a wild mustang. I was with Houston when he rode into the herd.”
Using his thumb, he tipped his hat off his brow, his blue eyes wide. “He took you with him? Into the herd?”
She smiled at the memory.
“God damn it! He never took me. He always made me wait by the corral he’d built for them so I could close the gate. How come he took you?”
“I guess he couldn’t leave me alone.”
“What’d it feel like?” he asked in awe. “What’d it feel like to be in the middle of all them horses?”
“Wonderful.” She put her hand on his arm. “Let me see if Houston is all right, and then I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Wait here,” he ordered before taking the horses back to the bush.
Amelia turned her attention back to the corral. Without a shirt or hat, Houston stood in the center of the corral, leading the palomino on a rope. The horse trotted in a circle.
The animal was beautiful, graceful, and carried herself proudly as though she knew her ancestors were of the best stock. Houston would be able to get a good price for her, enough that he could expand his small operation, breed more horses with earnestness.
She imagined the joy that would be found in working beside a man, helping to build and shape his dream. Dallas had already built his empire, realized all but one of his dreams. Amelia would give him his final dream: a son. She would find joy and happiness in their child. Through the years, she would guide him so, like his father, he would be a man whom other men respected and admired.
Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if a small part of her would always yearn for more.
Austin rejoined her, and together, they slowly approached the corral. She couldn’t stop herself from admiring Houston’s lean form. As sinewy as that of the mustang, as powerful, his muscles rippled over his back, over his chest, along his arms as he guided the horse.
As they drew nearer, she could hear the gentle timbre of his voice as he encouraged the horse. She thought the man could tame a snake if he set his mind to it.
“He doesn’t look like he’s been in a fight,” Austin whispered, leaning low so she could hear him without disturbing the horse.
No, he didn’t look as though he’d been in a fight. She could see no bruises on his face or body. She could only see the magnificence of his stance. He was in his element here, with his horses. She supposed some men were simply meant to be loners, simply preferred their solitude.
He caught sight of them then, and her heart misbehaved as it always did when he gazed upon her with such intensity. She wished for an insane minute that she was a horse, that he could love her as he did his mustangs.
With a gentle guiding hand, he slowed the horse to a walk, then brought it to a halt. He removed the rope halter and gave the horse a slap on the rump before walking toward Amelia.
The horse turned about and nudged Houston’s backside. Smiling broadly, Houston reached into his pocket and withdrew an apple. The horse took it and trotted to the far side of the corral. Houston continued on and climbed over the railing.
“What brings you out here?” he asked as he grabbed his shirt and shrugged into it.
She resisted the urge to capture the bead of sweat that trailed down his chest until it found refuge behind the waistband of his trousers.
“Amelia didn’t believe that Dallas fell off his horse last night and busted his face,” Austin said.
Houston began to button his shirt, his gaze lowered as he concentrated on a task he should have been able to perform in the dark. “It’s not unusual for a man to fall off his horse when he’s riding at night. Especially when there’s no moon. Horse drops a leg into a prairie dog hole, and he throws the rider.”
She placed her hand over his, and he grew still. “How did you bruise your knuckles?” she asked.
He lifted his gaze. “Fell off the porch.”
“How’d you do that?” Austin asked.
“A hell of a lot of falling going on around here,” she said before she spun around, the anger seething within her.
“I didn’t think women were supposed to swear,” Austin said.
“Take Black Thunder for a ride,” Houston said.
“But I wanna hear—”
She heard a gentle scuff that she was certain was Houston tapping Austin’s head.
“Goddamn it!” Austin cried.
“Stop using that language around Amelia.”
“Why? She uses it around me.”
She heard Houston’s exasperated sigh and fought back the tears burning her eyes.
“Please take the horse for a ride,” Houston said in resignation.
“Will you take me into the herd with you the next time you go after wild mustangs?” Austin asked.
“Yes.”
“All right. I won’t be gone long.” “Fine.”
She watched as Austin ran to the corral. She waited an eternity for him to mount the horse and gallop out of sight. She felt Houston’s hand come to rest on her shoulder. She couldn’t stop herself from turning and stepping into his embrace. He closed his arms around her, and she laid her head against his chest, relishing the steady beat of his heart.
“Dallas came here last night, didn’t he?”
His arms tightened around her. “Dallas has his life planned out in detail. He’s just a little frustrated right now because some of those details didn’t go as planned. Once you’re married—”
She lifted her gaze. “I don’t love him. I don’t know if I’ll ever love him.”
He released his hold on her and stepped back as though she’d suddenly sprouted poisonous fangs. “You knew you wouldn’t be marrying for love when you placed your ad.”
“Because at the time, I didn’t know what it was to love, how precious a gift it is.”
“If it’s a gift, then it can be given away, and you’ll find a way to give it to Dallas.”
“I’ve already given it away. I can’t take it back. But you don’t want it, do you?”
She saw anguish reflected in the depths of his gaze. “It’s not that I don’t want it. It’s that I don’t deserve it.”
“Why?”
“Ask Dallas. It’s the reason he can’t stand the sight of me.”
S
itting astride his horse, Dallas gazed at the tower, admiring its simple design as he admired all works of man that harnessed nature. He found comfort in the steady pounding of the hammer as Jackson worked to finish the wooden structure. Dallas already had three windmills bringing up water on his land. His first had been built where he’d always planned to build his house so he could gift his wife with the luxury of pumped-in water.
He, his brothers, and the men who worked for him had slept beneath the stars before Amelia had accepted his offer of marriage. Her simple words,
“I
would consider it an honor to become your wife,” had set Dallas on a course toward establishing stability. He’d built the house that he had thought about for years: something grand, worthy of the family who would live within its walls. He had erected a bunkhouse to add to the feeling of permanence that Amelia’s letters had stirred in him. The future would find a kitchen next to the bunkhouse to replace the chuckwagon because eventually the cook would become as stationary as the cattle.
The barbed wire would see to that. It would bring dramatic changes to their lives, just as the expansion of the railroads continued to do. Dallas fought a constant battle to stay ahead of the changes, to make decisions that wouldn’t leave him trailing in the dust. He had to be the best. His father would accept no less.
Dallas shifted his backside over the saddle. He wanted to carry his son to the top of the windmill so together they could look out over all the land that he had tamed. He wanted to teach his son to appreciate nature, to understand its weaknesses, to respect its strengths. He wanted to love his son unconditionally, as his father had never loved him.
Everything he owned, all that surrounded him, he had gained through his own efforts, his own persistence, his willingness to take chances when other men held back. If he could obtain a son on his own, he would, but he was a man who acknowledged his own limitations.
He needed a wife in order to have a son. He needed Amelia. And whether or not she knew it, she needed him.
He hadn’t been tactful when he’d confronted Houston last night. When Houston’s fist had plowed into his face, Dallas had thought his brother intended to claim Amelia for his own. Instead, he had threatened to find her another husband. If Houston harbored feelings for Amelia, they didn’t run deeply enough to overshadow Dallas’s desire for a son.
As for Amelia’s feelings … After receiving her gentle ministrations as she had repaired the damage inflicted to his cheek, Dallas had decided it was simply her nature to care about people. He would see to it that she never regretted taking him as her husband.
And the sooner she became his wife, the sooner these needless doubts would stop distracting him from the concerns of running his ranch. “Jackson!”
The pounding stopped, the silence reverberating through the air as the man at the top of the tower tilted back his hat. “Yeah, boss?”
“Need to talk to you.”
Dallas eased his stallion forward as Jackson nimbly climbed down the sturdy structure. His legs were as long as a longhorn’s, his body as wiry. Dallas admired his agility and respected him for doing his job when no one was around to watch him. It was the trait of a good cowboy; a trait all the men who worked for him possessed. He might know nothing of their pasts, but he knew how they worked.
The man hit the ground with both feet and swept his hat from his head. “Yes, sir?”
“I need you to go find the circuit preacher.”
Jackson’s jaw dropped. “What about the windmill?”
“I need a son more than I need water.”
“You won’t be thinkin’ that if we get hit with a drought.”
Dallas raised a dark brow, and the man settled his hat over his dark hair. “Yes, sir. I’ll find him.”
“When you do, bring him and yourself on up to the house. I’ll want all the men there for the wedding—for Amelia’s sake.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dallas prodded his horse into a gallop. This time next year, he’d be sharing that windmill and all the land surrounding it with his son.
An incredible freedom swept through Austin as he stood at the edge of the bluff and stared across the craggy rocks below to the far horizon. Here, his dream seemed attainable. Here, he could voice his heart’s desire aloud, and it didn’t sound foolish with only the wind to listen.
Someday, he’d find the courage to tell his brothers. Or maybe he’d just leave, and when he’d realized his dream, he’d return to share the glorious moment with them. He knew once he’d proven himself, they wouldn’t laugh, but until that moment of success, he feared their lack of faith or interest might destroy what he hoped to have.
One violin … created by his hands … that would make the sweetest music ever heard.
Rising in crescendo, soft as a spring breeze, strong as a winter storm, the gentle strains flowed through his heart, his mind, so clearly … so clearly and so loudly that he didn’t hear the scattering of rocks soon enough. Black Thunder snorted and pawed the ground as Austin spun around.
He was a dead man.
He balled his hand into a fist to keep it from reaching for his gun. He’d never drawn on a man … much less six.
“Howdy, boy.” His lips raised in a sneer, the bearded man leaned forward and crossed his arms over the saddle horn. “Nice horse you got there.”
“Ain’t worth nothin’. He ain’t saddle broke.”
The man laughed. “I can break him. Could break you if I wanted.”
Austin didn’t doubt that for a second as his gaze dropped to the man’s big beefy hands. He had a godawful feeling in the pit of his stomach that the man liked to draw out killing. “Look, mister, I don’t want no trouble.”
The man’s grin spread like an evil plague. “That’s good, boy, ’cuz I don’t neither.” He drew his gun from his holster and five other guns were quickly drawn.
Austin’s mouth went as dry as dust, his heart pounding so hard and fast that he could hear little else.
“Mead, get the horse.”
A man built like a bull climbed off his horse, lumbered over to Black Thunder, and grabbed the dangling reins. The horse jerked his head up and the man yanked hard, pulling the horse after him.
Without warning, the bearded man fired a bullet near Austin’s feet. Austin jumped back. The man laughed.
“Just keep goin’ back, boy.”
Austin held up his hands. “Mister, I’m standing on the edge of a cliff. If I go back—”
“I know, boy. You can holler all you want on your way down.”
He again fired at the ground, the bullet spitting up dirt between Austin’s boots. Austin scrambled back.
“The next one’s going to take your big toe with it, the one after that your knee.”
Austin heard the explosion, jumped back, and found himself surrounded by nothing but air and demented laughter.
Cowboys weren’t meant to walk. Aching and sore from his head to his toes, Austin dropped to his backside and jerked off his boots.
He’d gone over the edge of the cliff, grabbed a scraggly bush; and clung tenaciously to it, his toes searching for a hold on the side of the rocky gorge. He’d waited until he heard the riders galloping away before he’d started working his way up.
He’d been walking for hours, the sun beating down on him, the dry wind whipping around him, and the dust choking him. Standing, he drew his gun from his holster and fired it into the air, realizing too late that he might alert the horse thieves to the fact that he’d survived.
Angrily, he swiped at the tears streaming down his face. He should have taken a stand. He shouldn’t have allowed those men to run off with Houston’s best horse. He should have pulled his gun—he would have been killed for sure.
He should have been paying attention, not daydreaming. If Dallas and Houston discovered what had happened today, they would never trust him again, would see him as the boy they thought he was instead of the man he was becoming.
He’d been irresponsible and stupid. Dallas was always lecturing him on the dangers that abounded out here, where they were isolated from the law. He’d taught him how to use his gun. Austin just hadn’t had the guts to test that knowledge.
He saw two riders in the distance. He aimed his gun, his intent to kill them both. He dropped his hand to his side when he recognized Houston and Amelia. They’d no doubt grown worried and ridden out to find him.
He wiped the fresh tears from his cheeks. He’d rather face the horse thieves again than Houston.
Houston and Amelia brought their horses to a halt. Houston was out of his saddle and grabbing Austin’s shoulder before Austin had time to blink back any more tears. “Are you hurt?” Houston asked, his voice ragged with concern.
“No, just bruised. I wasn’t paying attention.” He sniffed, wishing to God he wasn’t crying like a baby. “Black Thunder hit a prairie dog hole. Snapped his leg in two. I had to shoot him.”
Houston jerked his head back as though Austin had just slapped him. “Where is he?”
Austin hadn’t expected him to want to see the horse. He rubbed his finger beneath his nose, buying himself some time while he thought of another lie. “I heard coyotes. I don’t think you want to find him.”
“No, I don’t reckon I do.” Houston removed his hand from Austin’s shoulder and walked past him.
Austin turned to watch his brother come to a stop and drop his chin to his chest. He knew Houston was hurting, and his guilt increased because he had no idea how to ease his brother’s pain. He was startled when Amelia took hold of his hand.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yep. I didn’t mean to lose the horse.”
“He knows that.”
She strolled to Houston and he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her against him.
Austin didn’t think they were talking, just holding each other as though that was enough. He wished Amelia had kept touching him, but he figured Houston needed her more right now. Austin couldn’t remember how he’d felt when he’d lost his ma, he just knew the ache stayed with him, always there as though a part of him was missing. He imagined Houston was feeling that right now, and he was glad Dallas had brought a woman out here to ease their hurts because he and his brothers sure as hell knew nothing about giving comfort. A glare, a shout, a slap up side of the head was all they knew.
Amelia tipped her lovely face up and said something to Houston, and Austin would have sworn the man smiled. He drew Amelia closer until it looked as though they were one person before he moved away from her and walked back to Austin, Amelia strolling along behind him.
“I appreciate that you put an end to Black Thunder’s suffering. Putting a horse down ain’t an easy thing to do.”
The tears welled back up in Austin’s eyes. “What’ll you do for a stallion now?”
“As Amelia so kindly reminded me, I’ve got the palomino. Come spring, you and me will go find another stallion. I’ll take you into the herd with me then.”
Austin felt as though Houston was rewarding him for an action that he should have punished him for. “You don’t have to take me into the herd.”
“Said I would. A man’s gotta keep his word. Why don’t you mount up behind me, and we’ll get you home so Amelia can tend to your cuts and scrapes?”
Austin nodded in mute agony. His conscience had him feeling lower than a snake’s belly.
As night fell, Amelia sat on the front porch, lanterns on either side of her providing the light by which she worked, using patience, care, and delicate stitches to mend the torn green silk, wishing she could mend the tear in her heart as easily.
Her mother had told her once that it hurt to love a man. Her mother had been crying at the time. Amelia had decided then that she would never love a man who’d hurt her.
Yet she had fallen in love with a man who was determined to hurt her as his way of protecting her. She didn’t think she’d ever feel this yearning for Dallas.
She would care for him and grow fond of him. She would be a good wife, a wonderful mother to his children. She would gain his respect, his trust, but never his love.
And he would never hurt her. It was impossible to hurt someone who had given her heart to another.
She heard the mournful strains of the violin serenade the night. She would have joined Austin on the back porch, but she sensed that he needed to be alone. He hadn’t wanted her patience or her attentions when they’d returned to Dallas’s house. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was trying to punish himself for something that wasn’t his fault.
She had admired the manner in which Houston had handled the loss of his horse: without blaming Austin. She knew Houston was hurting tonight, had lost one corner of his dream. She wished she could be with him to ease his pain, but her place was here, waiting on the porch Dallas had built for her, waiting on the future that she had once anticipated.
Dallas was the man to whom she had given a promise, a promise she would keep no matter what the cost to her heart. He didn’t deserve her doubts or the betrayal of her feelings.
Austin’s music drifted into silence just as Amelia saw the rider coming in … at long last. She’d been waiting for Dallas, needed to speak with him. He rode to the house, dismounted, and wrapped the reins around the railing.
His spurs jangling, he stepped onto the porch. He wore a vest over his light brown shirt, chaps over his dark brown trousers. He swept his hat from his head and knelt beside her, his large tanned finger touching the green silk. “What’s this?”
“One of the dresses Houston purchased. It got torn when the wagon overturned, but I can fix it.”
Furrowing his brow, he rubbed the silk cloth between his callused fingers. “It doesn’t have any ribbons or bows.”
She secured the needle in the cloth. “It’s really a simple evening dress, but I think it looks quite elegant when I’m wearing it.”
He looked up and the light from the lanterns shimmered over his black hair. “Don’t ladies like frilly things?”
She thought of the hat he’d sent her and tried to find the right words. “We like some frilly things. It depends on the occasion.”
“You must have been grateful, then, when that raccoon took off with your hat.”
