Texas Brides: The Rancher and the Runaway Bride & The Bluest Eyes in Texas

by Joan Johnston

  As Adam began to realize over the next several weeks, it was one thing to believe yourself trustworthy; it was quite another thing to earn someone’s trust.

  He made love to Tate each night, revering her with words and gestures. But he never told her that he loved her. It was plain from the cautious way she watched him when she thought he wasn’t looking, that she wasn’t yet ready to hear the words—and believe them.

  Maria got thoroughly disgusted watching Señor Adam and Señora Tate tiptoe around each other. She nagged at him in Spanish to tell Señora Tate he loved her and be done with it. “If you say it often enough, she will believe it,” Maria advised.

  “Do you think so?” Adam asked. “Even if she thinks I’m lying through my teeth?”

  “But you would not be lying!” Maria protested. “She will see what is in your eyes. And she will believe.”

  Adam truly wished it were that simple. He was beginning to despair of ever convincing Tate that he loved her enough to want her both as his wife and the mother of his child.

  The situation might have gone on unresolved, with both Adam and Tate less than happy, if Maria hadn’t decided to take matters into her own hands.

  As far as Maria was concerned, it was as plain as white socks on a sorrel horse that Señor Adam loved the little señora, and that she loved him. The problem was getting the two of them to recognize what was right in front of their noses.

  So right after lunch one day she sent Señor Adam off to the store to buy some spices she needed for dinner. She waited a half hour, then raced into the office where the señora was working.

  “Señora Tate, come quick! There’s been an accident! Señor Adam—”

  By the time Adam’s name was out of Maria’s mouth, Tate had already left her chair. She grabbed hold of Maria’s sleeve and demanded, “How badly is he hurt? What happened? Where is he?”

  “It was the new Brahma bull, the one he has penned in the far pasture,” Maria said. “He was not watching closely enough and—”

  “The bull stomped him? My God! How did you find this out? I never even heard the phone ring! Has somebody called an ambulance? We have to get Adam to a doctor!”

  “Señor Buck has already called the doctor. He is with Señor Adam now.” Maria smiled inwardly. She hadn’t even had to invent an injury for Señor Adam. The señora had done that herself. She said, “Señor Buck—”

  “Thank God, Buck’s with him!” Tate headed for the kitchen to get the keys to her pickup from the peg where she usually left them. But they weren’t there.

  “Where are my keys? Maria, have you seen my keys?”

  Maria closed her hands around the set of keys in her pocket. “No, señora. But your horse, she is saddled already for the ride you wished to take this afternoon.”

  “That’ll probably be faster anyway. I can go cross-country. Thanks, Maria. You’re a lifesaver!”

  Tate had barely been gone ten minutes when Maria heard Señor Adam’s pickup pull up in back of the house. She sniffed the onion she had ready and waiting and went running out to the truck, tears streaming, waving her hands frantically to attract his attention.

  “Señor Adam! The señora! Hurry!” Maria hid her face in her apron and pretended to cry.

  “What’s wrong, Maria? What happened to Tate? Is she all right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but bounded up the back steps toward the house.

  “She is not there!” Maria cried.

  Adam’s face bleached white. “She’s gone? She left me?”

  Maria saw she had made a serious mistake and said, “Oh, no! But she went riding toward the pasture where you are keeping that big-humped bull. Her horse must have been frightened. Señor Buck found her there on the ground.”

  “She’s hurt? Has she been taken to the doctor?”

  “She is still there. Señor Buck is with her—”

  Adam didn’t wait to hear more. He jumped back into his pickup and gunned the motor, heading down the gravel road, hell-bent-for-leather toward the opposite end of the Lazy S.

  Maria dabbed with her apron at the corners of her eyes where the onion had done its work. Well, she would soon see the results of her meddling. If she was right, there would be more smiles and laughter around this house in the future. When el bebé arrived, Tía Maria would tell the story of the day Papa rescued Mama from the big bad bull and brought her home to live here happily ever after.

  TATE MANAGED TO GET through the gate that led to the new bull’s pasture without dismounting, but she still begrudged the time it took the mare to respond to her commands as she opened the metal gate and closed it behind her.

  Once she was inside the pasture she kept a sharp lookout for the huge Brahma. She wasn’t sure what Buck had done to secure it after it had stomped Adam. The chance that it might still be roaming free in the pasture made her shudder in fear.

  Tate hadn’t gone far when she heard the sound of a truck spinning gravel somewhere beyond the pasture gate. There was no siren, but she thought it might be the ambulance. Maybe they would know exactly where to find Adam. Tate turned the mare back toward the gate and headed there at a gallop.

  She was almost to the gate when she realized the huge Brahma bull, with its thick horns and humped back, was standing there, apparently drawn by the sound of the truck, which usually brought hay and feed.

  When the bull heard the horse behind him, he whirled to confront the interloper on his territory. Tate found herself trapped, with no way out. She yanked the mare to a halt, holding her perfectly still, knowing that any movement would make the Brahma charge.

  Adam swore loudly and fluently when he realized Tate’s predicament. He slammed on the brakes, grabbed a rope from the bed of the truck, and hit the ground running.

  “Don’t move!” he yelled. “I’m coming.”

  “Wait!” Tate yelled back. “Don’t come in here! It’s too dangerous!”

  Adam didn’t bother with opening the gate, just went over the top and down inside. The rattle of the fence had the bull turning back, certain dinner was about to be served. He stopped, confused when he saw the man on foot inside the fence. He nodded his lowered head from Tate to Adam and back again, uncertain which way he wanted to go.

  Adam shook out the lasso and started looking for something he could use as a snubbing post. Not too far away stood a mediumsize live oak.

  Adam didn’t hesitate. He walked slowly toward the Brahma, which began to snort and paw at the ground in agitation. The bull’s attention was definitely on Adam now, not Tate.

  “Please don’t come any closer, Adam,” Tate said quietly.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got this all worked out.” If he missed his throw, he was going to run like hell and hope he got to the fence before the Brahma got to him.

  But Adam’s loop sang through the air and landed neatly around the Brahma’s horns. He let out the rope as he ran for the live oak. He circled the tree several times, enough to make sure the rope was going to hold when the bull hit the end of it.

  By then, Tate had realized what he was doing. She raced her mare to the live oak, took her foot out of the stirrup so Adam could quickly mount behind her, then kicked the mare into a gallop that took them out of harm’s way.

  The Brahma charged after them, but was brought up short by the rope that held it hog-tied to the tree.

  Tate rode the mare back to the gate, where Adam slipped over the horse’s rump, and quickly opened the gate for her. Once she was through, he fastened the gate, and reached up to pull her off the mare.

  They clutched each other tightly, well aware of the calamity they had barely escaped. As soon as their initial relief was past, they began talking at the same time, amazed by the fact that they had found each other alive and well and unhurt.

  “Maria told me the bull had stomped you!”

  “She told me you had been thrown from your horse!”

  “I wasn’t thrown!”

  “I wasn’t stomped!”

  The realization da
wned for both at the same time that they had been manipulated into coming here under false pretenses.

  “I’ll kill her!” Adam said.

  “I think you should give her a raise,” Tate said with a laugh.

  “Why? She nearly got us both killed!”

  “Because she made me realize I’ve been a fool not to believe what I know in my heart is true.”

  “I do love you, Tate,” Adam said. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard. “I do love you.”

  “I know. And I love you. When I thought you might be dying—or dead—I realized just how much.”

  “When I thought something might have happened to you, I felt the same,” Adam said. “I should have been saying ‘I love you’ every day. I love you, Tate. I love you. I love you.”

  Adam punctuated each statement with a kiss that was more fervent than the one before.

  Tate was having trouble catching her breath. She managed to say, “Adam, we have to do something about that bull.”

  “Let him find his own heifer,” Adam murmured against her throat.

  Tate laughed. “We can’t just leave him tied up like that.”

  “I’ll send Buck and the boys back to take care of him and to pick up your mare. We have more important things to do this afternoon.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like plotting how we’re going to get even with Maria.”

  As they drove back toward the ranch house, Adam and Tate plotted imaginative punishments they could wreak on the housekeeper for lying to them. It wasn’t an easy job, considering how they had to balance her dubious methods against her very satisfying results.

  “I think the best thing we could do is have about five children,” Adam said.

  Tate gulped. “Five?”

  “Sure. That’ll fix Maria, all right. She’ll have the little devils sitting on her lap and tugging at her skirts for a good long while!”

  “Serves her right!” Tate agreed with a grin.

  Adam stopped the pickup in front of the ranch house, grabbed Tate’s hand and went running inside to find the housekeeper.

  “Maria!” he shouted. “Where are you?” He headed for the kitchen, dragging Tate along behind him.

  “Here’s a note on the refrigerator,” Tate said.

  “What’s it say?”

  Tate held the note out to Adam.

  Dear Señor Adam,

  Tell her you love her. I’ll be gone for two—no, three—hours.

  Love, Maria

  Adam laughed and pulled Tate into his embrace—where the first of Maria’s little devils promptly kicked his father in the stomach.

  THE BLUEST EYES IN TEXAS

  Chapter 1

  LINDSEY MAJOR PRESSED her fingers against her temples to ease some of the awful pressure, then rolled onto her side, hoping that would relieve the pain in her head. As she did, her skirt wrapped around her legs. That was odd, because she slept in men’s pajamas and had since she was a teenager and thought it was a cool thing to do. She reached a hand down to untangle the yards of material and realized it wasn’t just any old skirt, it was ankle-length taffeta. She was still wearing her ballgown!

  Lindsey sat up abruptly, which set her head to pounding ferociously and brought a wave of nausea. She fought the sick feeling, sliding her feet onto the floor and carefully pushing herself upright on the edge of the bed. Which was when she realized she wasn’t in her own bed upstairs in the Texas governor’s mansion. She was…somewhere else.

  It wasn’t a dream. I was kidnapped right off the front porch of the mansion. I’ve been drugged. That’s why my head hurts.

  Lindsey caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the room and was appalled at what she found. Her tawny golden hair had fallen from its sleek French twist. The makeup she had sparingly applied to what the press had labeled “the bluest eyes in Texas” was so badly smudged that she looked like a raccoon on a binge. And her beautiful strapless taffeta dress—a glorious shade of lavender that rivaled the remarkable color of her eyes—was crumpled from having been slept in. Lindsey tried to remember what had happened after the struggle on the porch, but drew a blank.

  There was no window in the room, no route of escape. She crossed to the only door and slowly, silently, tried the knob. It was locked. She pressed her ear against it, hoping to get some clue as to who had kidnapped her and what terms they were demanding for her release. She could actually make out voices in the next room. Two men were arguing. What they said sent a cold chill down her spine.

  “I say we might as well enjoy her while we can. Hector ain’t gonna let her go even if the governor commutes the Turk’s sentence like he asked and the Turk goes free.”

  The Turk! Lindsey thought with despair. I should have known!

  Turk Valerio, the man who had accidentally shot and killed her mother in his abortive assassination attempt on her father five years ago, had been sentenced to die for his crime. The Turk had boasted that he would never be executed, that the Texas Mafia, headed by Hector Martinez, would find a way to set him free. Lindsey had the sinking feeling that she had become a pawn in a very deadly game.

  “I want to know what it feels like to do a lady,” the man said. “And I sure as hell want to see them blue eyes when I’m pumping into her—before Hector does what he threatened, I mean.” The kidnapper made a disgusted sound in his throat. “She’s gonna be a mess after that.”

  “I can see the governor’s face when he read that note,” a second voice, one with a distinct Texas drawl, said. “‘Commute Turk Valerio’s sentence by noon tomorrow, or I’m gonna blind the bluest eyes in Texas.’ Bet the man turned white as a ghost!” A high-pitched, almost girlish giggle followed.

  “Hector won’t like it if you touch the girl,” a third voice said flatly.

  “Well, Hector ain’t here,” the man with the deep Texas accent retorted. “I agree with Epifanio. I say we enjoy the girl now, while we can. Only, I want her first.”

  “I get her first, Tex,” Epifanio countered. “It was my idea.”

  “You’re too hard on women,” Tex complained. “There won’t be any left for me.”

  “I’m telling you both, leave the girl alone,” the third voice said.

  “Hell, Burr, you wouldn’t spoil our fun, would you? Besides, me and Tex together, we’re bigger ’n you. I don’t think you could stop us all by your lonesome.” That horrible, high-pitched laugh resounded again.

  “Make a move toward that door and we’ll see,” the man called Burr replied in a steely voice.

  Lindsey’s heart was thumping loud and hard in response to the fight-or-flight instinct that had taken over when she realized her peril. They planned to blind her! But they were going to rape her first! Any minute she expected Epifanio and Tex to come bursting through the door—right past the man called Burr, who was all that stood between her and immediate disaster. And good old Burr hadn’t said anything about protecting her from the man who wanted to blind her, only from the two men intent on rape.

  Lindsey looked around for a weapon. Her eyes alighted on the lamp beside the bed, which had a porcelain base. It ought to make a good club. She quickly pulled the plug from the wall and stripped the lamp of its shade, then dragged a chair over to one side of the door and climbed onto it so the lamp could be wielded from above. She waited, terror stealing her breath and making her suck air in harsh gasps. How much time did she have? How long before she was fighting for her life?

  Lindsey watched in breathless horror as the doorknob began to turn.

  She brought the lamp down on the head of the first man through the door, who collapsed at her feet with a groan. She stared openmouthed at the second man who filled the doorway. He was huge.

  “What the hell?”

  She took advantage of the big man’s confusion to give him a hard shove. As he fell back through the doorway, she leapt off the chair and darted past him. Unfortunately, he reached out at the last moment and caught her skirt. It tore at the waist but di
dn’t pull free. He began to rein her in like a lassoed heifer.

  “You did me a favor, chiquita, getting rid of Tex like that. Now I have you all to myself.”

  Lindsey clawed and kicked, but to no avail. He snagged an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against his chest.

  “Let me go!” she cried.

  He shook his shaggy-haired head. “Not so fast, niña. I like you right where you are.”

  She kicked him in the shin, which was when it dawned on her she was barefoot. She must have lost her high heels sometime during the kidnapping. The blow surely hurt her worse than her assailant, because she yelped in pain, while he just laughed.

  She caught sight of the third man—the one who must be Burr—watching her, his fierce, hooded eyes filled with…loathing? She couldn’t take her eyes off him, even as Epifanio pulled her body tight against his.

  Burr’s lips were pressed flat in disgust, distorting the shape of his mouth. His chin had a slight crease down the center of it and jutted as though seeking a confrontation. A diamond sparkled in one earlobe, and she saw a tattoo on his arm below the folded-up sleeve of a black T-shirt, although she couldn’t make out what the tattoo was. He had a day’s growth of black beard that did nothing to hide the angular planes of his face. His cheekbones were high and wide, and his nose was crooked from having been broken, from the look of it, more than once.

  The pull of tearing fabric brought her attention back to the Mexican. She bucked violently to free herself from his grasp.

  He ripped the bodice of her gown, exposing the white merry widow beneath it. “Fight me, bitch,” he said in a low, rusty-hinge voice. “I like it when a woman fights.”

  Lindsey didn’t disappoint him. Furious and frightened, her fingernails clawed down the side of Epifanio’s face, leaving four distinct bloody scratches. She grasped his hair and yanked hard, then reeled when he slapped her across the face with his open hand, drawing blood where her teeth cut her lip.