Texas Loving (The Cowboys)

by Leigh Greenwood

  “Brady’s and mine are just fine. It must be you.”

  “I can’t help it if Americans are sawed-off little runts.”

  Brady’s book closed with a snap about the time Finn’s pictures hit the floor. “Americans aren’t runts,” Brady growled. “Wait until you see Sean. He’ll make two of you.”

  “I thought Sean was Irish.”

  “All of us were something else a little ways back,” Finn said, “but we’re Americans now.”

  Edward settled into his bunk, resigned to having his feet hang over the end. He wondered if anybody would say the same about him a year from now.

  “We ought to work our horses together,” Eden said to Edward as she brought a bowl of steaming grits to the table and set them in front of Hawk. “It’ll get you used to losing to Black Cloud.”

  Edward eyed the grits with disfavor. A blob of butter in the center was quickly turning to a golden liquid. “That’s a good idea. Crusader needs somebody to make him stretch his legs.”

  “What about Chief?” Josie asked Hawk. She helped herself to grits and passed them to Suzette, who waved them away.

  “He’s too valuable as a stud to risk racing,” Hawk replied. “You should keep that in mind with Crusader,” he said to Edward. “He’s a fine-looking horse.”

  “He has to win some races before anybody will be willing to pay more than a few dollars to breed to him,” Edward said.

  At the moment Edward was more concerned about his breakfast than Crusader’s future at stud. Except for coffee, there wasn’t much on the table he recognized. He was afraid to touch the grits. Fried ham was acceptable, but he was more used to mutton chops or rump steak. He talked himself into eating the sausage without asking what might be in it. The scrambled eggs were questionable, especially after he learned they were often cooked with beef brains, but if he didn’t eat them, there wouldn’t be much to keep him going until supper—the American term for dinner. He welcomed the sight of bacon and thick fluffy biscuits even though he was more used to toast, but who drank milk? He missed his tea and marmalade. This American jam wasn’t the same.

  “You’ll soon get used to the food,” Hawk said when Edward passed on the grits. “I did, and that was after spending thirteen years living as an Indian.”

  There was no end to the incredible stories that surrounded Eden’s family. Compared to the Maxwell clan, his entire family was one great big yawn.

  “If you’ll saddle my horse, I’ll meet you as soon as I help Josie and Suzette clean up,” Eden said to Edward when breakfast was coming to an end.

  “You go on,” Josie said. “We can clean up.”

  “And let my mother find out I was gallivanting all over while you two were washing dishes? You do remember my mother, don’t you? Isabelle, the tyrant who rules the lives of everyone within a hundred miles?”

  “Your mother is the kindest woman I’ve ever met.”

  Suzette appeared to have trouble getting to her feet. Edward didn’t know anything about women having babies, but he didn’t like what he saw.

  “She is as long as you do what she wants,” Hawk said, helping his wife up from her chair. “Why do you think Zeke and I spent twenty years getting shot at rather than living at home?”

  Edward excused himself, left the house, and headed for the barn. He took his time saddling the two horses. He used Eden’s Western saddle on Black Cloud, but he used his lighter English saddle on Crusader because that was what he’d use when he raced.

  “I didn’t know English lords knew how to saddle their own horses.”

  Edward turned to see Eden headed toward him. He was prepared to be struck yet again by her wholesome beauty, the energy that radiated from her, but he wasn’t prepared for the jump in his pulse rate. He had to remember that she was now the competition. If he didn’t concentrate, he could end up watching that lovely backside finish the race in front of him.

  “Ex-English lords don’t have any choice. By the way, I didn’t tighten the cinch. You’ll fall off, crack your head, and be unable to race against me.”

  He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to Eden’s laugh. It He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to Eden’s laugh. It wasn’t just that it was deep and full-throated. There was an honesty, a spontaneity, that was foreign to a man who’d grown up in a society where every detail of one’s life was studied and calculated to create the maximum effect. Eden acted on her feelings and pretty much didn’t care what anyone else thought. He could hardly imagine such freedom. Learning to be a Texan was like learning to walk all over again.

  “I plan to sabotage your saddle,” Eden teased, “but just enough to cause you to slow down.”

  “I’ll bed down with my horse and saddle. Sleeping on straw can’t be any worse than that bunk.”

  Eden laughed again and a thrill shot through him. Who could have believed that a laugh could be sexy? No proper Englishman would refer to a lady as sexy, but that’s exactly what Eden was. Maybe these Texans had it right. There was no use denying the obvious. He smiled to himself. Getting used to being a Texan might be fun.

  “Wait until you spend the night in a bedroll on rocky ground,” Eden said. “You’ll wish you were back in that bunk.”

  Edward had never spent a night anywhere except in a warm, dry bed. He couldn’t imagine why any sane man would sleep outdoors.

  “Time to get going,” Eden said. “Give me a leg up.”

  Chapter Twelve

  There went his pulse again. English women never exposed more than the tips of their shoes, yet Eden nonchalantly placed her foot in his clasped hands, exposing her leg from the knee down to the calf where it disappeared inside her boot. He’d enjoyed several liaisons over the years, but they’d been about releasing sexual tension so he could get his mind back on his work, about attending to a bodily function that was natural and healthy. His interest in Eden was far more complex; so complex, in fact, he couldn’t say exactly what it was. Being around her had an effect on him that being around Daphne had never approximated.

  “Has anybody shown you the training trail Hawk and Zeke are building?” Eden asked as they rode out into the sunlight.

  Edward had yet to get used to the Texas sun. There was no morning fog as in England, no mist to rise from the meadow or the lake, no chill in the deep shadows of the forest, no feeling of being slowly brought to consciousness and gently coaxed awake. No, this sun was pushy, sometimes rude. It came bursting over the horizon like a nanny bustling in to rouse a reluctant charge from bed, the sky as bright and clear as it would ever get, and the heat spearing one’s skin like hundreds of hot needles.

  “Zeke told me about the trail, but I haven’t had time to use it.”

  He’d only been working for Zeke and Hawk a week and was still trying to get his bearings. He’d expected to have more time before seeing Eden again, more time to understand his attraction to her. He understood basic attraction, but where had the intensity come from? He had to stifle an urge to reach out and touch her. Would she object? Was touching, like kissing, something Texans were allowed to do with impunity? Maybe, but he couldn’t trust himself to stop there, and no matter how liberal they were in Texas, there were certain rules that held no matter where you were.

  “I’m not sure how practical it will be for us,” Eden was saying. “They only use it to train pleasure horses, the kind rich men and women ride to show off.”

  “Just like they do in London,” Edward said.

  “I suppose so.”

  “Do you disapprove?”

  “Not really. Different people take pleasure in different things.”

  “What do you take pleasure in?” He was shocked as soon as the words left his mouth. He would never have asked Daphne such a question.

  “I’m not sure what kind of pleasure you mean.” Eden had cocked her head at an angle. She looked at him from under lowered lashes, a half smile hovering on her lips, her attention only partly on her mount.

  “I meant anything, everything,” E
dward answered, embarrassed that his thoughts had taken a particularly provocative turn.

  Eden turned her attention to a low-hanging branch that protruded into the trail. “Lots of things.”

  Edward wondered if he was only imagining that she sounded slightly disappointed.

  “I enjoy teaching my nieces and nephews. I have fourteen now, with that many more coming. I enjoy riding, especially when I get to race, but nobody will race against Black Cloud. Sometimes I enjoy cooking, but I have to be in the mood or have an occasion to cook something special.”

  “You didn’t seem to have any problem with breakfast this morning, and it was pretty much the same thing Josie and Suzette fixed before you got here.”

  She made a wry face. “You asked about pleasure, not work. Only an Englishman would think the two were the same.”

  “What else?”

  “I like going to parties, dances, picnics, just about any kind of fun get-together, especially if I’m with a man whose company I enjoy.”

  “Are there a lot of men whose company you enjoy?”

  The demon of jealousy was a bothersome thing, though why he thought he had any right to be jealous was a question he couldn’t answer. Eden had indicated she liked him but not in a special way. Sometimes he felt she did, the times when she looked at him out of the corner of her eye or when he would look up and find her staring at him, but he couldn’t be sure. American men and women had a different way of showing interest in each other. He knew the rules in England, but he had no idea how things were done in Texas. That was one more item to add to his list of things he wanted to learn quickly.

  “Not a lot, but enough to have a good time,” Eden said. “Dad encourages me to talk to lots of different men, but I think he’s really trying to keep me single. He says I’m too young to be married.”

  Another difference. In England, she would practically be an old maid. “Do you want to be married?”

  “Yes, but only to the right man. You’re mighty serious this morning. Why?”

  “Everything is so different here. Even sitting down to breakfast.”

  Eden’s peal of laughter caused a pair of birds to burst from the arching branches of a pecan tree ahead. “You looked at the bowl of grits like you were afraid of it.”

  “It looked disgusting.”

  “It’s only ground corn. Josie said you liked corn bread once she convinced you to try it. Grits aren’t much different. A little salt, pepper, butter, gravy, whatever you like to season them, and they’re wonderful. You’ll have to try them.”

  “Maybe.” That was the most he could promise. They had reached an open area where flooding from a shallow river had left sandy deposits along the banks.

  “This trail is about a half mile long,” Eden said. “It’s not perfect—you still have to watch out for an occasional rock or tree root—but it will give the horses a chance to stretch their legs and work up a little speed.”

  The trail was nothing like the carefully laid-out race courses or meticulously maintained training tracks in New-market, England. It would be a miracle if Crusader didn’t end up with a strained ligament.

  “Come on,” Eden said when Edward hesitated. “I know this isn’t what you’re used to.”

  “It looks dangerous.”

  “Not to horses that grew up running on even rougher ground.”

  “Crusader has never run on anything like this.”

  “Then it’s time he learned.”

  Eden didn’t wait for him to make up his mind. She clucked to Black Cloud and the mare moved into a slow gallop. Edward knew he should be watching the mare, studying her stride, trying to determine her speed and stamina, but all he could think of was seeing Eden with her rear end up in the air. How was he supposed to concentrate on a horse when he had that to look at?

  Tearing his eyes away from Eden, Edward urged Crusader into a trot, a canter, and finally a slow gallop. The horse tugged at the bit, wanting to catch up to the horse and rider ahead of him, but Edward wasn’t willing to go any faster until he’d ridden the full length of the course. He couldn’t risk an injury, even a slight one. Crusader was his one chance to win enough money to buy his own ranch. He would never go back to England, not even if he had to use an outhouse for the rest of his life.

  “What do you think?” Eden asked when he reached the end of the course. She’d arrived far enough ahead to have turned around, and was waiting for him.

  “It’s not as bad as I feared. I’ll see if Zeke and Hawk will give me some time to work on it. Maybe I can trade that for training some of their horses. I know all about pleasure horses. That’s how half the horses at Worlege were used.”

  Unlike Eden, he’d never thought using horses for pleasure was a waste. Maybe that was because she’d grown up needing horses for work. He supposed most ranchers couldn’t afford to keep separate plow horses, dray horses, riding horses, hunters, and even racehorses. Then there were ponies for children and matched pairs to pull one’s carriage or phaeton in the park. He’d never stopped to consider whether all these horses and the expense they entailed were necessary. It was just part of the life into which he’d been born.

  “Are you ready for a good run?” Eden asked.

  “Whenever you are,” he answered, but he wasn’t planning to race all-out. Crusader wasn’t ready for a hard gallop. Besides, he didn’t want to embarrass Eden by beating her today.

  Crusader had a fast start, but Eden’s horse sprang away with the quickness of a hare and was two lengths ahead before Crusader hit full stride. Edward expected to catch up quickly but was shocked to see Eden’s lead lengthen until she was four lengths ahead at the end of the trail.

  “That wasn’t bad,” she said when she pulled up, “considering you must weigh eighty pounds more than I do. Black Cloud will leave your horse in the dust if you don’t get a jockey who can make weight.”

  Edward had considered hiring a jockey, but he knew Crusader better than anyone, knew how to get the best race out of him. Still, he’d never beat Black Cloud carrying that much extra weight. The mare was much better than he’d expected. One hundred years of importing horses from England into Virginia and New York had improved the American racehorse. He just hadn’t expected the improvements to have reached down into Texas.

  “Why don’t we jog them back, and do another run?” Eden suggested. “Quarter-horse blood gets Black Cloud off the starting block first, but Crusader is pretty fast.”

  Edward’s competitive blood was up. “All this traveling has gotten him out of condition for running.”

  “He’d better get in shape quickly. People in San Antonio train all year for this race. Some even buy a horse especially for it.”

  What Edward had thought would be a sure thing was beginning to look uncertain. Having reached the end of the trail, they lined their horses up and started together. Eden still finished ahead of Edward. He would have to get a jockey. He wouldn’t have a chance otherwise.

  He hated losing the opportunity to race against Eden. He had a strong need to prove himself to her and to everyone at the ranch—maybe even the entire Maxwell family. He was certain they believed he was little more than an effete aristocrat who was playing at being a rancher and would probably head back to England as soon as some bronco dumped him on the ground or he got jerked out of the saddle trying to lasso a steer that was in no mood to cooperate. They didn’t realize he had no options. He had to succeed. He didn’t have a home to go back to.

  And in order to succeed, he had to find a way to beat Eden and Black Cloud.

  “We always go to San Antonio about a week before the race,” Eden was saying as they rode back toward the ranch house. “Mama likes plenty of time to shop. They have stock shows the same week, so Dad and the boys are busy looking to see if there’s anything they want to buy. You’ll want to go with them.”

  She was pleased with Black Cloud’s morning workout.

  The mare had finished second in the race last year, and Eden was sure she’
d have won if not for the poor performance of her jockey. This year she had every intention of convincing her father to let her ride. The question in her mind was whether Black Cloud could beat Crusader.

  “I don’t have money to spend,” Edward said. “Everything depends on my winning the race.”

  Edward had covered it well, but she could tell he was shocked and dismayed that Crusader hadn’t beaten Black Cloud. The mare was fast and had plenty of stamina, but at equal weights, Eden feared Crusader would beat her mare.

  “You don’t have to buy anything, just look at what’s being offered. It’ll give you an idea what people want and what they’re willing to pay for it. Didn’t you go to stock shows in England?”

  She listened to his description of the county fairs he’d attended, but her attention snapped when she noticed a mare and foal wading into the river a short distance ahead. Edward must have noticed at the same time. “That’s one of your brothers’ horses. I didn’t know they let them roam free.”

  “They don’t,” Eden said. “Every horse is kept behind barbed wire, in a corral, or in the barn. I don’t know how they got out.”

  “That’s the Morgan mare. I saw Finn take her to her pasture.”

  “That’s the most expensive horse they own,” Eden said. “We have to take her back.”

  Having gained her freedom, the mare wasn’t ready to give it up. She splashed through the shallow river and bounded up the far bank. When Eden and Edward followed her, she played hide-and-seek among the bald cypress, mountain cedar, elm, pecan, and oak trees that lined the banks of the river, her six-month-old colt following nimbly in her wake. Twice she managed to avoid Eden’s lasso, once by turning sharply and once by ducking her head.

  “You’re not going to catch her that way,” Edward said. “Lasso her colt and see if she’ll follow.”

  Not being as acquainted with the ways of humans as his mother, the colt didn’t notice the lasso until it settled over his head. His efforts to rid himself of the noose were so frantic Eden began to worry that he might injure himself. He was a nearly perfect colt, and she knew Zeke and Hawk couldn’t afford to lose him. She had just about made up her mind to let him go when Edward called out that he’d gotten a grip on the mare’s bridle.