Be My Texas Valentine

by Jodi Thomas

  Hunter wandered around outside the ranch house, feeling like he was standing guard at his own fort. With the big windows on two sides of the parlor, he couldn’t help getting a good view of what was going on inside.

  Although his mother and her friends drank a lot of tea, they sure talked a lot, too. Not much of a surprise, but he was pretty dern sure what they were talking about without hearing a single word. Their body language spoke volumes.

  His mother rubbed her palms together from time to time, so he knew she was in her “organizing the whole state of Texas” mode.

  Ruby was about to wear out the parlor table picking up and putting down her cup and saucer, while her sister sat quietly, wringing her hands in her lap.

  He took out a cigar and lit it. Smiling to himself, Hunter couldn’t help thinking about what was really going on inside. No doubt they were figuring out how to finagle things in order to hold a Valentine’s box supper and dance and spoil the men’s plans for their fundraiser. Part of him felt ashamed at being deceitful, yet he wanted to laugh aloud about what he’d pulled off. All in the name of betterment for Farley Springs.

  He really wanted to go inside to change into fresh clothes, but couldn’t take a chance on getting caught. He’d hedged enough questions for one day.

  Although he had stopped and washed up as best he could, with the humidity it hadn’t done a lot of good. He was muddy and his shirt probably smelled like the south end of a northbound bull.

  Hunter felt pretty satisfied with himself for what he’d accomplished since returning to the ranch.

  With Slim’s help, they had saved both the mama cow and her calf, although it had been a long, hard, laborious effort. By the time they finished, the cowboys had repaired the downed fence and were already at the bunkhouse enjoying an evening meal. He’d grabbed a bite with them before the cards came out.

  Hunter had one hard, fast rule: he never played games of chance with his employees. Made for bad relations.

  He finished his cheroot and ground it out in the dirt. His original plan had been to go back to town and enjoy a little poker and a bit of pleasure with Greta Garrett. As the evening wore on, he saw no signs that any of the three visitors chatting in his parlor seemed to have any intentions of leaving to return to town anytime soon, so he got less interested in making the ride back to Farley Springs.

  One thing was certain—he didn’t have to feel bad about leaving Greta high and dry because she never stayed lonely long.

  Maybe the real reason he wasn’t all that disappointed about not going back to town was because of Laurel. One look at the strength and stubbornness in Laurel’s dark, fiery green eyes set off a stampede of emotions. And one thing for sure, he was certainly not a weak-in-the-knees type of man. He swallowed hard and wondered if she even recognized her own charm and beauty.

  Laurel’s gelding snorted and restlessly pawed the ground, drawing Hunter’s attention away from Laurel Dean.

  His big sorrel stud stood hitched beside Laurel’s horse, ready to make the trip back to Farley Springs ... sooner or later. Now both of their mounts, as well as the Wilson sisters’ team, were rested and impatiently waiting to get on the road ... much like Hunter.

  Thinking the women might never leave, Hunter gave up and strolled to the rear of the house and came in through the back porch. He unbuckled his gun belt and hung it, along with his Stetson, by the door. Surely he’d have no need to have his Colt on in his own house ... unless the women figured out what he and the other men in town had pulled on them. By now, the Wilson sisters, and of course Laurel Dean, however she fit in, had given his mother every detail of the meeting.

  By morning, with Stubby’s help, Hunter would have everything in place and be prepared to make the big announcement that since the women had decided on a box supper and dance, then the men would fall back on another plan—a big cookout at the Coyote Bluff Saloon.

  Thinking how it would play out, he took a deep breath and couldn’t stop the smiles from coming. It’d be hard not to say anything until the women made a big deal out of their own shindig. Then the poor men, being the gentlemen they were, would let the ladies have the men’s idea and then they’d be forced to have a regular ol’ barbeque to raise money.

  Maybe Hunter should practice at being mad or upset over being outdone by the women.

  By morning, Gideon Duncan would be thanking him for what he’d done for the town. After all, it was his idea to throw the women off with his little ruse.

  But Laurel Dean’s participation still troubled Hunter. She was a total mystery to him. He wasn’t exactly sure how she fit into the women’s plan, but obviously, like the Wilson sisters, she must have been part of the spy brigade sent into the Sundance.

  Or could she be a snitch for her Uncle Gideon? A double agent like in the War Between the States?

  One moment she was a Johnny Reb and the next a Billy Yank.

  The only way to find out was to get next to her and feel out the opponent.

  Chapter 6

  Hunter left the mudroom and entered the kitchen. He was shocked to find his mother standing at the sideboard, writing on a plain piece of stationery, while she had guests in the house. The moment she saw him, she quickly folded the paper in quarters. “You startled me, Hunter,” she said before straightening up to her full height. “I’m glad you got back before my guests left.”

  Although she was almost as tall as him, she had to look up at her son. An impish smile he’d seen too many times crept across her lips, and he would bet a week’s profit at the Coyote Bluff it had something to do with Laurel Dean.

  “I was finishing my grocery order,” she said with obvious deception. She slipped the paper in her pocket before continuing, “I need a word with you—privately.” Her tone grew serious and she motioned him farther away from the door that led to the parlor.

  “Will you please do me a favor, and keep careful watch over Laurel Dean?” She lowered her voice even more. “Something is bothering her. I think she’s smack dab in the middle of some type of situation she might not be equipped to handle. It could well concern her uncle and aunt.”

  “What makes you think that?” he asked.

  “I sense it in her whole demeanor. She’s not the same person she was when she left here.”

  “Of course, Mother, she isn’t. Laurel was only a girl when she left for boarding school. She’s accustomed to the big-city life with all of its fancy theaters, the opera, and shopping for the finest clothes in the world. She’s about my age, so she’s a fully grown woman now.”

  Oh, how had the shy teenager grown into a sexy, appealing woman! he thought.

  “No. It’s something else. She’s plenty mature, knows her mind, and doesn’t act like she misses New York an iota. Just trust me, son. Please help me by keeping an eye on her.”

  He nodded. He’d oblige his mama because he’d do anything she asked if it was in his power—and she knew it. An additional incentive, it’d give him a legitimate reason to stay close to Laurel Dean.

  Melba Ruth placed her pen in the sideboard and closed the drawer. “The ladies have been waiting to see you, so please go in and say hello.”

  Hunter shook his head dubiously and could only smile down at her. His mama had a way with words and he knew exactly what she meant with her last statement. It was his signal to interrupt the gathering, so the visitors would say their good-byes without making his mother appear to be an unappreciative hostess.

  With grace and purpose, she escorted him into the parlor.

  “Look who I found in the kitchen,” she announced as if he were a cookie thief she’d caught red-handed. “Hunter insisted that he come in and give his regards before he heads back to Farley Springs.”

  “Good evening, ladies.” He smiled at each woman, letting his gaze linger on Laurel a little longer than was appropriate.

  After brief pleasantries were exchanged, Ruby said, “We were just about to leave. It’s getting late, and I’ve got something to take care of in to
wn.” She took her sister’s arm and almost pulled her out of her chair.

  Pearl looked baffled. “But we could stay a little bit—”

  “I have to return right away because I have someone to see this evening.”

  “Yes, oh yes, I almost forgot.” Pearl fiddled with her hat and stood. “We’ve got to run. So nice to see you again, Hunter.”

  “I’m sorry you have to leave so soon,” he lied. “Slim has your carriage waiting out front.”

  The Wilson sisters thanked him and chatted for a few more minutes about a variety of things. Noticeably the subject of the library or the railroad didn’t come up. Not particularly odd either, if you were to ask him.

  From the corner of his eye, he observed his mother slyly removing the sheet of paper she’d written on out of her pocket. She then slid next to Ruby and handed her the paper.

  Perplexed, he turned his attention to Laurel and eased into a friendly smile. “That little bay of yours is getting testy. I think he really needs to be ridden. He’s a feisty one for sure. All the horses have been watered and given some oats.”

  Laurel looked up, flashing a smile of thanks.

  Staring into her warm, enchanting face, he had a hard time ungluing his tongue from the roof of his mouth, but he finally did. “The horses are refreshed and rarin’ to go. If you’ll give me a couple of minutes to change shirts, I’ll be pleased to escort you all back to town.”

  “That’s so kind of you,” Pearl gushed.

  “While I thank you kindly, I’ve driven the road from here to town in the late evening before, so no need for us to take up your valuable time.” It was as if Ruby didn’t particularly want him to ride with them.

  “It won’t be necessary,” Laurel sternly added. “Like Ruby said, we’ve ridden this trail many times.”

  His mother smiled sweetly. “Pish posh! Hunter was going back to town anyway ... weren’t you, darlin’?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He wanted so badly to give her a frown for calling him darlin’, but knew it’d be pointless.

  There was a side benefit. An evening ride with Laurel would give him an opportunity to talk, although he figured it wouldn’t be all that productive with the Wilson sisters being nearby. He could certainly wish they’d ride ahead, but knew it wasn’t about to happen. The Wilson girls were sweet, but nosy.

  Taking the change of events in stride, Hunter said, “Ladies, I’ll meet you out front in two minutes.” Without waiting for their response, he hurried out of the parlor and headed to his room on the second floor two steps at a time.

  Within moments he’d changed shirts and thrown on a coat. After strapping on his Colt, he added his Stetson and walked down the steps to the hitching rail out front.

  Laurel Dean had already mounted. She impatiently tapped her boot in the stirrup. His mother was nowhere in sight. Nor did he see the Wilson sisters’ carriage.

  Wishes do come true!

  In one fluid movement, he stepped in his stirrup and swung his long leg over his saddle, then said, “Ready?”

  “Hunter, you really don’t have to ride back with me.”

  “I don’t mind a bit, plus when my mama tells me to jump, I ask how high.” He laughed and she joined him.

  Before he could ask, she volunteered, “Ruby and Pearl drove on out.”

  “What was so important they couldn’t wait?” He figured he wouldn’t get a straight answer out of her but tried anyway.

  “Uh, Ruby had to, uh, to join a friend for dinner.”

  Most likely that wasn’t the truth, but he was less interested in Ruby than Laurel Dean. He was deeply bothered by how much Laurel’s welfare troubled his mother. There had to be more to it than just being a worrisome friend.

  “Let’s head out. I think your Buckey’s really hankering for a long, hard ride.”

  With only a slight movement of the reins, Hunter’s horse trotted toward the trail, joined by Laurel’s bay.

  “Your new ranch headquarters are beautiful,” Laurel said as soon as they’d cleared the ranch gate.

  “Thanks.” He didn’t know whether to say more or just be glad she was still speaking to him, after he’d been such a jackass earlier in the day.

  “It’s really nice. You’ve done so much with the ranch since I was last there, but that was a while ago.” She spoke in such a soft voice that he could barely hear her over the wind.

  “When the ol’ homestead burned, after Paw died, I wanted to give Mother a place like she’d always dreamed about having. When we didn’t have two bits to rub together, she’d clean houses for folks in town. Even your aunt’s place for a while. In the evenings, over supper, she’d tell me all about each house. How they were decorated. She’d describe every picture on the wall, talk about colors, and mention fabrics I’d never heard of. I just called them frilly girlie things and it’d make her laugh.” Hunter found himself watching Laurel as she turned her head from side to side.

  About as much as he took pleasure in Laurel’s affection for his mother, he also liked sharing his memories with a woman who truly cared for others.

  To his recollection, Greta Garrett had never seemed the least bit concerned about what made him the man he was today. She seemed more interested in a romp in the hay and lookin’ good on his arm. Suddenly, hot nights, warm whiskey, and Greta didn’t seem as important as they once did.

  As he and Laurel rode along, crimson hues of sunset swallowed up by purple shadows of early evening mellowed the western horizon. One of the purest of pleasures in Texas is our beautiful sunsets.

  So far, he hadn’t seen even so much as a dust trail from the Wilson carriage. What was so important that they would push their team so dern hard?

  Possibly being alone with Laurel, he could find out what was bothering her. Maybe even how she felt about paving Main Street. There were so many questions he had but couldn’t just blurt them out. It’d take time. A slow nurturing of their relationship would be a test for a man who had little, if any, patience.

  Out of the corner of his eye, two jackrabbits appeared chasing a prairie dog ... heading directly in the path of his and Laurel’s horses.

  In a split second, Buckey stumbled, then reared back and pawed the air, sending Laurel Dean backward, head over teakettle. She landed on her side, cushioned by a thick bed of early spring wildflowers.

  Hunter dismounted in a flash. Grabbing Laurel, he pulled her into his arms. “Are you hurt?” With trembling hands, he pushed back flaxen tendrils of hair from her forehead and brushed dirt from her face. She rolled farther into his arms, and looked up at him with a glazed expression. He could feel her quickened pulse. Again, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. Just a bit shaken is all,” she said through winded words. “Uncle Gideon warned me that Buckey could be a little skittish.”

  “He’s more than a little skittish.” Under his breath Hunter muttered, “And the bastard shouldn’t have allowed you on him.”

  With assistance, she stood and brushed away the grass and dirt from her vest and pants.

  In the distance, Hunter saw a billow of dust as Buckey galloped toward town.

  “Did you see what scared him?” Laurel asked.

  “A couple of jackrabbits chasing what could’ve been a prairie dog or a ferret. I couldn’t tell for sure, it happened too quick.”

  Hunter wasn’t sure whether his heart or hers was beating faster. Color had returned to Laurel’s pale face, and he heard an audible intake of breath.

  Once he was satisfied she wasn’t hurt and had given her time to compose herself, he asked, “Want a ride?”

  She shot him a childlike grin, raising a questioning eyebrow, and said in a calm, silky voice, “Only if you’re going my way.”

  “Sure am.” Hunter wondered if she realized she had such a sensual smile. He mounted his horse and gave her a hand, easing her in the saddle in front of him. His knees settled comfortably against her thighs. “I can guarantee you’ll ache in muscles you’ve forgotten you had.”


  “I’m sure so, but right now I’m okay.” Then she added, “I think.”

  It took her a minute to situate herself. By the time she was settled in, her continuous squirming around had caused him a really big problem. He mentally groaned in agony, because she had succeeded in setting off a prairie fire of flames within him. With nothing but a couple of layers of denim separating them, there was no way she didn’t feel it, too.

  Hunter would have been a fool not to have enjoyed her nearness—her warm, sensual body pressed against him. He tried everything he could to put as much distance between them as possible, but sharing a saddle didn’t allow much room for negotiation.

  “I think I’d be more comfortable riding behind you,” she said.

  “Considering what happened, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I need to be able to catch you if you go off to sleep and try to fall off.” Hunter tried to make light of the situation.

  “You think I can’t ride a horse?” Her words were laced with steel.

  “No, I didn’t say that. You might be injured more than you think, and I don’t want to take the chance.”

  “You’re too bossy. I’m just fine,” Laurel fired back.

  “It’s my horse. My rules, so sit back and enjoy the ride,” he said, trying to make his words sound friendly yet leaving no room for compromise.

  The sun dipped deeper into the horizon, shrouded by a wash of ocher and cornflower blue. The evening breeze grew cooler, and Laurel shivered. He halted his horse long enough to remove his coat and put it around her shoulders. The chill helped to cool his fiery response to her nearness, but it did nothing to alleviate the heat still kindled in his blood.

  “Thanks. I’ve forgotten how fast the temperature drops at sunset in the Panhandle.” She snuggled deeper into the jacket. “Tell me more about the ranch house.”

  “Well, by the time we got ready to rebuild after the fire, I’d become a damn good poker player thanks to Paw. I decided I’d stay in the game, as long as I kept winnin’, so I could have enough money to build the house exactly the way Mama wanted. We had a very good year with our herd of cattle and turned a profit, so with that added to my winnin’s, we built it, one stone at a time. I’m kinda embarrassed sometimes because I think of it as my house, when it’s really Mama’s, and always will be.”