Beautiful Bandit (Lone Star Legends)

by Lough, Loree

  Josh nodded. “Just over that rise, there. Nearly five hundred acres, all useless now.”

  “But, that’s not forever, right?”

  He tore his gaze from the distant horizon and fixed it on her face. “No. Not forever. But the land will be useless for generations.”

  Despite the shadow cast over his face by the brim of his hat, there was no mistaking the pain that shimmered in his eyes. He loved this place, just as surely as he loved his family. Kate didn’t have the heart to ask him how long it would be before it was again safe to graze cattle there. Of course, she’d heard of anthrax, but she had no idea what it was. Perhaps, in the next few days, she’d learn more about it. She wanted to know about everything and anything that was of the slightest importance to this wonderful, gentle man. “Is your family expecting you?”

  Josh’s mouth slanted in a wry grin. “I’d bet my saddle that George has eyes on us right now.”

  “One of your brothers?”

  “No, I don’t have any. At least, not by blood. Just four cousins, raised like brothers.” He paused, then added, “George might as well be blood kin, though. I’ve known him almost all my life.”

  His reply made her wonder if, in addition to selling off acres, he’d been forced to let go some of his trusted employees, too. But it wasn’t a question she wanted to ask for fear of waking more sad memories. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you.”

  Josh turned his attention back to the trail. “I reckon.”

  “How long have you been away?”

  “Twenty-one days.”

  The way he enunciated each syllable told her that, to Josh, it might as well have been twenty-one months. It dawned on her suddenly that, very shortly, he’d introduce her to his family. She wanted to make a good first impression, especially on his mother—if that was even possible under the circumstances. “What will you tell her?”

  Josh faced her and thumbed the Stetson to the back of his head. “Ma, you mean?”

  “Yes.” Why the response had come out sounding like sandpaper grazing a rough board, Kate didn’t know. She knew only that the mere mention of the family matriarch caused her breaths to come in short, shallow bursts. She prayed he wouldn’t say, “Why, I’ll tell her the truth, of course.” Because what woman willingly invited a stranger into her home—especially one who looked, as Josh had said on the night they met, like she’d been dragged through a keyhole at the end of a rope?

  “What will I tell her about what?”

  “Well, about what you’re doing with the likes of me, for starters. And about why you brought a complete stranger into her house, and—”

  “Dinah,” he interrupted her gently, “settle down.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You aren’t the one dropping in unexpectedly at the poor woman’s home.”

  He sat quietly for a moment, then exhaled a sigh. “I guess I see your point. So, I’ll just tell her how I ran into you during the ride home, and that, when I realized you were hurt, I offered to put you up until your ankle healed.” He shrugged. “She’s always welcomed my friends. No reason to expect it’ll be any different this time.”

  What he’d said sounded reasonable, except for one word: friend. But she’d gone over and over that argument a hundred times in the privacy of her mind, each time coming to the same conclusion: enforcing an arm’s-length distance in her relationship with Josh was the right thing to do. For his sake, anyway.

  Until now, her life had rarely brought her face-to-face with the thorny side of doing the right thing. Sticking to her plan would test far more than her resolve; it would also determine the strength of her character.

  “Is your ankle bothering you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then, why the long face?”

  “I was just thinking that maybe I should clean myself up a mite. It’ll be hard enough meeting your family for the first time without looking as scruffy as a barn cat.”

  “You look beaut—you look fine. Just fine.”

  Kate felt herself blush as she tucked several stray wisps back into place. “How long will it take us to get from here to the house?”

  “Half a day, maybe longer.”

  Her heartbeat quickened at the realization she’d meet his mother that soon. “Is there a creek or a stream nearby where I might wash up a little?”

  “Yeah, but unless they got some rain from that storm we just rode out, it’s hard to know if there’ll be any water moving in it.”

  “Is it very far out of the way?”

  “Nope.”

  And with that, he clicked his tongue, and Callie dutifully moved forward, inspiring Kate’s horse to do the same. “Have you named her yet?” she asked, patting her coffee-colored neck.

  “Nope.”

  Please, Lord, don’t tell me we’re back to one-word replies for the rest of the ride!

  “She’s a lovely animal,” Kate said. “Seems a shame for her to go through life without a name.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Brownie?”

  Josh smirked. “Very original.”

  “How about Chocolate, then?”

  “I thought women were supposed to be natural-born poets.”

  Giggling, Kate said, “You thought wrong.” Then, “How did you choose Callie’s name?”

  That inspired a chuckle. “Long story.”

  “By your own words, we have half a day, maybe more, before we arrive at your mother’s house. I think there’s time for you to tell it.”

  He sent her a sidelong glance, then launched into the story. “My grandmother, Mee-Maw, hates wastefulness, so she saved every leftover scrap from every dress and skirt and curtain she ever sewed. Kept them in flour sacks and pillowslips—dozens of them—and when she got too feeble to get around much, she started turning them into quilts.

  “Callie, here, never met a fence she couldn’t jump, and the day I brought her home, she leaped over the corral gate like it was knee-high to a grasshopper. She moseyed right on up to the front porch, where Mee-Maw sat stitching, and learned right quick that if she kept the old woman’s chair going, she could earn some sweets.

  “She earned herself a place in my grandmother’s heart that day, pressing the chair’s rockers like a bellows pedal. And that very day, Mee-Maw made this purty saddle blanket out of strips of calico.”

  “What parts of the story did you leave out?”

  Even in the shade of his Stetson, she could see his confused grin. “Beg pardon?”

  “You must have edited out a lot of details, because you said it was a long story, and telling it took you hardly any time at all.”

  He gave another shrug. “Just the same, that’s how Callie got her name.”

  Kate added that bit of information to her quickly growing list of reasons to like Josh Neville. How thickheaded of her to think moodiness explained his short, staccato replies. He was a man of few words; it was as simple as that.

  And she intended to pay a lot closer attention to each one from here on out.

  15

  Susan, Josh’s youngest sister, grabbed his hand and led him into the library. “Oh, Josh,” she gushed, “Dinah is simply adorable!”

  “You can say that again,” his older sister, Sarah, agreed. “Now, tell us the truth—Ma is out of earshot. Where did you really find her?”

  Flanked by smaller, feminine versions of himself, Josh knew that his chances of escape were slim to none, but he estimated the number of steps from the stove to the door, just in case an opening presented itself. “I’ve already told the story half a dozen times.”

  Susan jabbed a bony finger into his chest. “Then, that’s how many times you fibbed, brother dear.”

  He’d promised Dinah that he wouldn’t tell his family the details of how they’d met, and he aimed to keep that promise. Besides, what if they asked a question he couldn’t answer? The information she’d volunteered was slim, at best. “I think I hear Ma calling you—”

  “I do
believe I might be forced to ride into town and fetch Reverend Peterson.”

  He frowned at Sarah. “What for?”

  “I’m worried about the state of your soul, Joshua Amos Neville, that’s what for. Maybe the reverend can talk the good Lord into forgiving you for all the lies you’ve piled one on top of the other. Why, you haven’t been home a full day, and I’d wager you’ve already told dozens!”

  All right, so he’d said a few things to sidetrack them. Was it his fault that the reality of the situation and their perceptions of it were miles apart? Josh loved his sisters dearly, but he didn’t trust them a whit. Experience had taught him that even if they placed their right hands upon the Good Book and vowed to keep the story to themselves, everyone within fifty miles of Eagle Pass would have heard a distorted version of it by week’s end. And what if the monster who’d abused Dinah happened to be passing through town and got wind of her whereabouts? If Josh had to spew a fountain of fibs to protect her, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Did that make him a sinner? He supposed it did. But he’d much rather ask the Lord’s forgiveness for telling a few lies than beg His mercy when the truth put Dinah in danger. “Like it or not,” he said, “that’s the story.”

  His sisters exchanged wary glances and then rolled their eyes. Susan threw up her arms in frustration. “He’s impossible!” she exclaimed, letting both hands fall at her sides.

  Sarah faced him head-on with one hand on her hip, the other wagging a finger in his face. “I bet Ma could get the real story out of you!”

  That was true, Josh conceded to himself. But if he put his list of reasons not to admit it next to the list of the tales he’d told, the former decision would win, hands down.

  “All right, Mr. Stubborn-as-a-Mule, tell me this, then: When do you think you’ll marry her?”

  Leave it to Sarah to ask the one question he couldn’t answer without spilling the whole pot of beans. If he said that he couldn’t wager when he’d marry a woman he’d met just a few days ago, well, there went his story that he and Dinah were old friends. If he denied having feelings for her, Sarah would see through him as through window glass. So, he did the next best thing—he told a different truth. “Don’t know as she’d have me, even if I asked.”

  Susan rolled her eyes. “Please. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

  “And hangs on your every word,” Sarah added.

  “And follows your every move.”

  Sarah giggled. “The girl is positively smitten with you, brother dear!”

  Josh faked a hearty laugh. “‘Smitten.’ I declare, Sarah, where do you come up with such words?”

  “From books,” she retorted, “you illiterate cowboy, you.”

  He didn’t point out that, of all the Neville cousins, only he and Micah had gone to college, and that, to accomplish the feat, they both had read stacks and stacks of books, including a few tomes that weighed nearly as much as he did. It was far better to let her think she’d won their verbal sparring match. So, Josh tried changing the subject. “What’s for supper?” he asked, patting his stomach.

  “How would I know?” Sarah clucked. “Surely, you weren’t gone so long that you forgot that Lucinda doesn’t allow other people in her kitchen.”

  “Ah, the lovely Lucinda.” He nodded thoughtfully, then added, “She has always welcomed me in her kitchen. With open arms, I might add.”

  “Sarah said ‘people,’” Susan teased, kissing his cheek. “You know as well as I do that the bighearted woman has a soft spot for creatures and critters.” She turned on her heel and headed for the foyer. “Now, I’m off to find that pretty young lady you brought home, and to see if she’d like to soak in a nice, hot bath.”

  Sarah pressed her lips to Josh’s other cheek, then stepped back, feigning a chill. “You might want to give some serious thought to heading over to your place for a little while,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “because you could use a bath, yourself.”

  Susan popped back into the doorway long enough to add, “And a shave.”

  Once they were gone, Josh had to admit that they were right. Twelve days on the trail after leaving San Antonio—no, thirteen, counting the stopover in the storm-racked shack—had taken their toll on him. Smiling, Josh rubbed his whiskered chin. Yes, he cherished his sisters dearly—and loved the silence they’d left behind almost as much.

  “Got a minute to talk, son?” came his father’s voice from the other side of the screen door.

  “Sarah and Susan just laid down the law,” he said, stepping onto the porch. They’ve ordered me to bathe and shave before dinner.”

  Matthew Neville chuckled and dropped onto the seat of the double-wide swing. “Couldn’t hurt to wash the trail dust from your face, I suppose.”

  Josh leaned back against the porch railing and crossed both arms over his chest. “Reckon you want a detailed account of what happened in San Antone.”

  Nodding, Matthew said, “You reckon right. But that can wait. No point covering the same ground more than once. When everybody is at the dinner table, we’ll talk about rounding up the brothers and their boys. I’m sure they’ll be interested to hear all about it, too.”

  Josh hadn’t yet decided whether to tell his family about the bank robbery, since a report like that would only rile the menfolk and terrify the women. He’d prayed on it, night after night, and had come to the conclusion that if the good Lord believed the story should be told, He’d send a signal. And, since none had been delivered yet, Josh took it to mean it was best to keep the news to himself, at least for the time being.

  “Now, about this young woman you’ve brought home,” Matthew said, breaking into his thoughts.

  “Dinah?”

  “Dinah, yes. Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

  Josh ran the question through his brain a time or two, trying to determine what, exactly, his father wanted to hear.

  “I couldn’t help but notice that scar on her jaw.”

  Sometimes, Josh reasoned, the truth beat a story all the way to town and back. “Don’t rightly know how she came by that,” he admitted. “But I can tell you this—she looked a whole lot worse than she does now when I came across her on the trail.”

  “You—you found her?”

  “Halfway between here and San Antone, hunkered down behind a boulder, shivering and half-starved, and looking like she’d just gone three rounds with a prizefighter.”

  “And lost.”

  Josh nodded.

  “Then, your ma was right.”

  “About what?”

  “She had a feeling the poor girl’s story about falling from her horse was more fable than fact.”

  “Well, that is how she twisted her ankle. I was there when it happened.”

  His father settled back in the swing. “And the rest of it? Were you there for that, too?”

  “No. She hasn’t offered an explanation for the rest of her bruises, and I haven’t pressed her for one.”

  “I understand.” His father got to his feet and rested a strong yet gentle hand on Josh’s shoulder. “You might want to warn her to have something ready to tell your sisters when they ask about the cuts and bruises, because you know as well as I do that they’re bound to ask.”

  Josh needed only to remember the conversation he’d just had with the pair of them to realize the accuracy of his father’s remark.

  “I’m proud of you, son. Not every man would step out in faith that way, rescue a woman in distress.”

  Rescue? The word implied he’d performed a heroic deed. If there was a man out there who’d have done anything differently, Josh would like to meet him, because it might be interesting to come face-to-face with a truly heartless human being.

  “I know you did us proud in San Antonio, too.” With that, Matthew headed for the barn, leaving Josh to ponder their exchange.

  He gazed out at the Lazy N land—land that reached far beyond the horizon and represented nearly half a century’s struggle to grow roots in the dry, Tex
as soil. Over the years, his grandfather and father had told tales of a hundred calamities, and how they’d muscled their way through each. This latest tragedy had taken a heavy toll, but they’d survive the anthrax, too.

  Josh should have felt safe and secure, here on home turf. Should have felt encouraged and strengthened by the land and the knowledge that the blood of hardy men and women flowed in his veins. So, how was he to explain the sense of foreboding that was closing in around him?

  It wasn’t an entirely new sensation. He’d felt a similar sense many times on the trail, when cougars and coyotes or bandits and rustlers would stalk the Nevilles’ herds. With his nerves on edge, he’d stare hard into the darkness, ever alert, always ready. And although being prepared hadn’t thwarted every raid, the feeling that something was coming had protected Josh and his men against many a surprise attack.

  Yes, danger was lurking nearby, that much was certain. But how would he defend his family against a foe he couldn’t identify?

  The better question was, how closely connected were this gnawing sense of doom and Dinah’s presence at the Lazy N?

  16

  If the simple skirts and plain shirts Josh had bought her on the trail hadn’t soaked up all that rain and dust, Kate would have been wearing them now instead of the frilly, pink gingham dress Sarah had loaned her.

  With her hands on her hips, Kate did a slow twirl in front of the tall oval mirror, unable to decide which pained her more—her injured ankle, or the fact that a New York designer had created the dress. She had no use for the puffy sleeves, expansive bustles, feathered hats, and button-up boots that stretched the term “high fashion” to the snapping point, in her opinion. She didn’t think that a getup like this would flatter a dressmaker’s dummy, and yet, here she stood, cloaked from head to toe in the ridiculous thing.

  An hour earlier, as she’d been dozing contentedly in the warm, sudsy waters of a deep, tin tub, Josh’s sister, Sarah, had rapped at the door and peeked her head in. “We appear to be about the same size, Dinah,” she’d said, her friendly smile brightening the room, “so you’re more than welcome to borrow one of my dresses until you’ve had time to launder and press your own things.”