Twice a Texas Bride

by Linda Broday

  Rand had forever branded her as his.

  Turning, she spread her fingers and laid her hand on the door, imagining that Rand was on the other side.

  “I love you, my cowboy. Please don’t give up on me.”

  Twenty-one

  The first rays of dawn crept like a thief through the window. She groaned at the unwelcome intrusion on her dream in which Rand was making sweet love to her. His hands should be immortalized in verse, for they could make her body sing.

  She thought of rolling over to see if she could recapture the dream, but Wren’s babble came from the crib. No more evading reality. She rose and quickly dressed.

  Lifting Wren into her arms, Callie went down to the kitchen. She lit the lamp and saw a square of paper with her name scrawled across it propped against the sugar bowl. Her heart beat faster. Putting Wren in the cradle she kept downstairs, Callie picked up the note and read:

  My Darling Callie,

  You are the star that guides me like a beacon in a blinding storm. I’ve been lost for such a long time. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for making me the happiest man alive.

  Forever yours, Rand

  With tears clogging her throat, Callie kissed the note. He asked for so little, this husband of hers. It was time she became a wife in the truest sense.

  She needed to tell him her secret.

  Today. No more stalling. No more walls between them. Just honesty. She owed him that much. Having made that decision, her heart felt lighter as she stoked the fire and put the coffee on.

  The twinkle in Rand’s crystal blues when he came down a few minutes later sent Callie’s heart into a frenzy. “Good morning. Did you sleep well, darlin’?”

  “Better than I have in a long time.” She’d slept without fear or worry. A deep, restful sleep. Maybe it was due mostly to the fact that her bones had liquefied…

  …and that she knew Rand was just across the hall, keeping watch over her and the children.

  “I didn’t hear Wren cry during the night.” He picked the babe up and came to give Callie a kiss.

  Something had definitely shifted, and it wasn’t just with her. She liked this new morning ritual.

  “That was because the little darling didn’t wake up until daylight. It was a first for her, and I’m not sure what to make of it. Maybe there’s something wrong.”

  “Sounds more like something right to me. She’s happy and content with us.” He paused. “Thank you for the note you left on my pillow. Funny thing, I dream of you too, even when my eyes are open. I think we’re gonna make it, Callie.”

  “I loved the note you put in the tea tin, and the one here on the table.” She’d memorized the words and written them on her heart.

  You are seen. You are my life, my everything. And the new one that said she was his guiding star.

  Unlike her, her husband had quite a way of voicing his thoughts. The notes might just be her best way of communicating things she couldn’t say.

  Besides the kissing and touching, that is.

  Toby and Brett came from different directions into the kitchen, stopping further private conversation.

  The men went out to do their chores, leaving Callie to get breakfast on the table. She hummed as she worked. Coming here to the Last Hope had changed her life in more ways than she could count. This was where she belonged.

  Still, what would happen after she told Rand the truth? Would her revelation take all this away? Please, God, don’t let that happen. Rand would never be satisfied with a wife who couldn’t share his bed.

  How could a man live with only half a wife?

  By the time Rand, Brett, and Toby returned, she had hot food on the table. Her heart turned over at the sight of her note-writing husband and the boy who looked up to him as a father.

  Though Rand became immersed in plans with Brett to catch Nate Fleming, his eyes kept seeking her out, grazing the area where the buttons of the dress met her neck. Knowing the direction of his thoughts, her face grew hot.

  Memories of the liquid pleasure she’d felt when his mouth sought her bare skin flooded her senses. He’d quite easily persuaded her to lower her guard, opening her dress—and what was worse, he took delight in it.

  If he didn’t stop looking at her now, Brett would notice and she’d die of mortification.

  Still, her heart raced each time she recalled Rand’s velvety touch on her bare skin, the feel of his mouth on hers. She glanced through the window at the brilliant sunrise and sighed.

  How would she fill the time until they came together again outside her bedroom door?

  She could already feel his tender touch that had awakened her to untold joy—and renewed fear.

  * * *

  Rand had never had a more tasty breakfast. Callie had outdone herself as usual. Or maybe it had something to do with their blossoming relationship.

  At last he laid down his fork and pushed back his plate. “I have to go into town to see an attorney and totally clear the air between me and Mother, and I don’t want to leave you and the children here by yourselves. We’ll make a day of it, do some shopping. I’m sure there are things you need both for yourself and the house.”

  “I don’t relish the thought of going, but neither do I wish to stay behind. I’ll get Toby and Wren ready.”

  Brett stood. “I must go too. Have lots to do myself.”

  Toby got out of his chair and tugged the tall Indian’s hand. “Don’t forget to bring the beads when you come back.”

  “I won’t. In the meantime, you keep practicing what I showed you.” Brett laid a hand on top of Toby’s head. It was clear the two had developed a special friendship. His brother had given a little boy something lasting.

  Rand saw him off and hitched the wagon while Callie was inside making sure the children were presentable. He saw Callie through the kitchen window and grinned. He couldn’t have asked for a better wife and silently thanked Emily Winters for providing the reason to marry. Callie was pretty, and smart—plus she had the silkiest skin he’d ever felt.

  His trousers became uncomfortably tight just thinking not only about last night, but all the nights yet to come. Soon he’d persuade her to share his bed, he felt it in his bones. Then he’d go to heaven every night after and take her with him. He’d never imagined marriage could be this satisfying. He adjusted his pants before Callie noticed. He groaned. Anyone would think he’d never even stolen a first kiss with a girl.

  She stepped from the house just then with a basket full to overflowing, probably with things Wren might need or thought about needing. The way the newly born sun caressed Callie’s face and hair aroused the familiar ache he’d just fought to tamp down.

  In a desperate attempt to hide the evidence, he rushed forward to relieve her of the load. By the time he’d helped her and the children into the wagon, he’d gained control.

  The ride into Battle Creek was pleasant. A cold breeze blew, but thankfully no rain fell. Rand had brought plenty of blankets to keep them warm. He reached to tuck a loose corner around Callie’s knees and gave her a smile. They seemed to have turned a corner last night, and it bolstered his hope that he could kindle something inside her so strong that it would overcome whatever it was she feared.

  Fear and dread were two overpowering emotions. They held people prisoner until facing them was the only way to break free. He felt the same dread about having this talk with his mother but knew he couldn’t avoid it any longer.

  He let his thoughts drift to what he was going to say.

  And what exactly was that?

  He hadn’t a clue. He only knew they had to get some things out in the open so the bitter taste in his mouth would go away. It was time to let go of old hurts. He had a new life now, and a wife that excited and amazed him.

  Reaching across Toby, he laid his hand on hers. “You’re awfully quiet. Anyth
ing you want to talk about?”

  She smiled, and he felt like she’d given him the moon and stars. Such a simple thing, yet it meant so much. He didn’t need riches, fame, or glory. All he needed was Callie beside him and the hope that filled his heart that she’d keep writing her notes and letting him open her dress.

  “Thank you for your concern, Rand. Actually, there is something I need to discuss with you, but it can wait until later.”

  Whatever it was must not be too serious. He hoped it didn’t have anything to do with his love for kissing and touching her. He’d gotten a sample of her simmering passion last night. Like a breathtaking rose, her petals were just beginning to open. When she came to realize her full potential, she’d be something to behold.

  Thinking of that caused his heart to hammer in his ears.

  Callie Quinn Sinclair had definitely livened up his dull, boring life. He felt like shouting it out to the world.

  The sound of hooves coming fast behind the wagon jerked him back to his senses. Though he didn’t think Nate Fleming had a chance in hell of returning so soon, Rand laid a hand on the Colt in his gun belt.

  A rider came up beside him. “Mister, I’m lookin’ for the town of Battle Creek. Is it nearby?”

  Rand took in the stranger’s trail-worn clothes, unshaven jaw, and graying hair beneath a bowler hat. The silver-studded saddle on the magnificent white gelding didn’t fit the rider. “Straight down this road about two miles. Can’t miss it.”

  “Obliged.” The traveler tipped his hat to Callie and galloped on.

  Something about the man unsettled Rand. Maybe it was the ugly scar on his cheek. “Callie, did you recognize him?”

  “No, but then I didn’t look at him very closely because of tending to Wren. Why?”

  “I don’t know. Just a feeling I’ve got, I reckon.” He’d make sure to talk to Cooper when he got to town. He wouldn’t soon forget the fancy white horse and its trappings…or the stranger who rode it.

  Forty-five minutes later, Rand hardly recognized Battle Creek. The town was a whirlwind of activity for a Wednesday—or any other day, for that matter. Throngs of people and wagons of all kinds made it difficult for Rand to maneuver down the main street. He wondered what was going on. The banner stretching overhead finally provided a clue:

  Battle Creek Winter Festival and Dance, January 31st

  Oh yes, he remembered Cooper telling him that Delta and her women’s club, the Women of Vision, had garnered support for a winter celebration. Rand had so much admiration for Delta and her group of visionaries. They’d accomplished things that downright astounded him. For a minute, he wished he and Callie lived in town. She’d probably love to be a part of something really beneficial.

  Though the festival wasn’t going to get into full swing until Saturday, folks from all around had begun gathering in, desperate for a break from the monotony of winter. A joyous mood filled the air from the street musicians on every corner to the smiles on the pedestrians’ faces. One couple danced on the sidewalk.

  “Why are those people so happy?” Toby asked.

  “They’re glad to escape their loneliness, even if it’s just for a few days,” Rand explained.

  “Oh. Are you an’ Aunt Callie gonna dance?”

  Rand looked at Callie and winked. “We just might.”

  The only place he found to leave the wagon was with a handful of others in the dead grass in back of the jail. He swung Toby to the ground, then handed him the baby to hold. Rand put his hands around Callie’s waist and lifted her from the seat.

  He brushed her lips before he set her on her feet and watched the high color rise. “With so many people in town, it’s going to be difficult keeping Toby in your sights. I’d take him with me, but I need to talk to my mother alone. I’ll come get him after I’m finished, all right?”

  “He’ll be fine. I’ll see to it.”

  Toby suddenly hollered. Rand looked to see what was wrong and had to bite back a laugh. Wren clenched the boy’s lip with one hand and was trying to stick a finger up his nose with the other.

  “Here, let me help you.” Rand took the babe and kissed one chubby cheek before passing her to Callie. Now that he’d rescued Toby, he returned to their conversation. “If you run into any trouble, head for the sheriff’s office. Cooper will be there. He’ll keep you safe.”

  “You have more things to occupy your mind than my welfare. Now go. You said yourself that Nate is afoot. It’ll take him time to get here. Besides, he won’t show up in Battle Creek. He’ll come to the Last Hope.”

  Pulling her close, Rand spoke low. “Darlin’, nothing is more important to me than your welfare.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “Furthermore, I intend to dance with you before we leave.”

  He tucked her brilliant smile into a secret place in his heart and walked her and the children to Abercrombie’s Mercantile.

  Then as he strolled toward his mother’s home, his thoughts returned to the stranger he’d seen on the road. He should’ve shared his niggling concerns with Callie, but he hadn’t wanted to steal the joy from her face when he had nothing to go on.

  Lord knows, his gut had been wrong before.

  Abigail Sinclair was loading a basket with the luscious fried pies she’d become known for since she arrived in Battle Creek four years ago. She’d kept her face covered with a heavy black veil back then and called herself Clara. Only after Tolbert Early shot Rand had she revealed her true identity both as his mother and the famous opera singer, Abigail Winehouse.

  She looked up when he entered her kitchen. “Hello, Rand. You’re just in time to carry these for me.”

  “I need to talk to you first if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh dear. You’re displeased with me again.” She went to the mirror and set a plumed hat on her head. “What did I do now?”

  Gently, he took her hands and led her to a seat in the parlor. “Why didn’t you look for me all those years ago?”

  “I told you, I thought you had perished. By the time I returned, a whole year had passed. Folks relayed that my friend Margaret, to whom I had entrusted your care, left town without a child in tow. After months of looking, I tracked her down. She said Jack came and got you shortly after I left. He told her he was taking you on an adventure to Peterville Flats, a town forty miles away. It’s all a mystery to me, but that’s where he died. Several people there confirmed that they had seen a small boy with Jack.”

  “But you never found a child’s grave,” he argued.

  “That is true.”

  “So there was one for my father?”

  “Sadly, they never recovered any bodies at all. If not for two men who reported seeing him float downstream, I wouldn’t know that he’d drowned. I bought a tombstone, had both your names carved into the granite, and put it next to the river. I wanted someplace to go to talk to you.”

  Now that was creepy, knowing his name was etched on a stone somewhere when he walked around very much alive. “I want to believe you, Mother. I really do, so I can put an end to this right now. This town, did it have a wooden pony with blue spots up on one of the buildings, possibly a saloon?” The fragment of a buried memory teased the edges of his mind. “The horse rocked back and forth, and its eyes glowed.”

  “Yes, I did see that. It was a saloon called the Painted Pony. But how did you know?”

  “I’m not sure. Still trying to figure that part out.”

  “Son, I did the best I could. I’m not perfect, but I would never have done anything to harm you in any way. I loved you so much. I still do. You can’t imagine my immense joy when I discovered you were alive. I’m so sorry I waited such a long time to reveal myself.” Abigail touched his arm.

  “I wondered about that. Why you waited.”

  “At first I just wanted to get to know you without the pretense or expectation that often comes wh
en you find you’re family. I saw the real man you’d grown into. You were so confident and happy. Then I was afraid you wouldn’t want me, didn’t need me. The longer time went on, the harder it was to break free. I became trapped in the fabricated life I’d built. I couldn’t face the questions, the judgment. But I’ve always loved you, even when you thought I didn’t care and had turned my back on you. It’s why I’ve done what I have, why I bought the saloon—” She stopped abruptly, biting her lip.

  “You bought the Lily of the West? You?” he exploded.

  “Don’t be angry. I wanted to give you your dream,” she said in a small voice. “You weren’t supposed to find out.”

  “How else should I feel, Mother? You can’t leave anything alone. You always have to try to fix things. You can’t trust me to be a man.”

  She wrung her hands. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  “You can’t buy my love, you have to earn it,” he said quietly. “Don’t you see?”

  “Can’t we start over?” Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know how to be a mother. I’ll learn, if you’ll give me time.”

  The anger left. For the first time, Rand saw a glimpse of the woman who’d tucked him into bed, given him a kiss, then sung him to sleep. She truly did love him. He knew that now. It was time to forgive and forget, wipe away all the pain. He accepted that she would always be a little self-centered and meddle in his affairs, but he wasn’t perfect either. Not by a long shot.

  He went and put his arms around her. “Starting over sounds good. You’ll have to teach me how to be a son. Won’t be easy, when I’ve been on my own since I was eleven.”

  “We’ll do it together. One of these days, I want to hear how you survived after escaping that orphan train. From what little I know, Cooper looked after you, and I owe him a huge debt.” She lowered her eyes and smoothed her dress. “And about the money…it’s customary for a parent to give things to their child.”

  “Within reason,” he grudgingly admitted. “Just don’t make a habit of it. I want to do things for myself.”

  “You always were independent from the time you were born.” She gave a deep sigh. “You insisted on dressing yourself and putting on your shoes when you could barely teeter around on your little legs. I had my hands full with you.”