The Heart of a Texas Cowboy

by Linda Broday

  Unable to read more, Houston carefully returned the letter to the envelope to finish later. He cleared his throat. “Thanks for keeping this all these years, Pa. It’s like she’s here, in a way.”

  His father squeezed Houston’s shoulder. “I think she is here, and she’s been watching over you boys through the years.” He sat on the bed. “Got a telegram from Sam. He and Sierra send their best. They’d be here if they could. Luke would too, I’m sure.”

  “It’s better to keep this small. Lara doesn’t need a bunch of gawking people. Me either.” Houston picked up his coat. “Let’s go.”

  He might as well meet this stranger who was to be his wife, and prayed that she wouldn’t make his life hell. If she was kind, that’s all he’d ask and it would be enough.

  * * *

  Upstairs in one of the many bedrooms in the Legend house, Lara Boone tried to calm her mass of nerves. She stared at herself in the mirror, putting finishing touches to her hair, pulling it high and securing it with two combs. The rest of her mass of copper curls cascaded loosely down her back.

  Her hands trembled. What would Houston do when he discovered what he’d gotten? It was a given that he’d be angry, that he’d feel cheated. Any man would. She was not only damaged goods but so broken inside that she didn’t know if she’d ever be whole again.

  When he’d come calling earlier in the week, she’d peered at him through her bedroom curtains. His size had made her breath catch in her throat. He stood well over six feet and was hard muscle. How handsome he was, with hair the color of dark coffee beans. The deep lines around his mouth indicated a worrier. His bronze tan and the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes said he spent a good deal of time outdoors. Probably squinted into the sun a lot.

  Even from the distance at which she’d spied on him, she’d sensed anger in his movements. And who could blame him? She was furious as well, even though she knew it was best for her baby girl. Still, she felt like a piece of property to be sold to the highest bidder. She’d wanted to speak to him and explain that it wasn’t her idea, only her father wouldn’t let her. More than likely, Till Boone had been afraid she’d take pity on him and call off the marriage. The deal their fathers had made must grind as much on him as it did on her.

  No one liked being forced into something.

  Lara chewed her lip. It asked a lot of him to take on another man’s child and raise her as his own. Would Houston resent her?

  From her father, she’d heard about the tragedy of his previous would-be wife, Becky, and how she’d gotten shot as she’d stood in front of the preacher. Houston must’ve loved her and her death must’ve devastated him. She couldn’t imagine what that would do to a person.

  A knock sounded at the door and she opened it to her father.

  “Are you ready, Lara? It’s time,” her father said.

  “Help me with my veil, Papa?”

  With a nod, he took the thick, white veil and put it over her head, pinning it snugly in her hair. She was grateful it hid her face, though Houston would be even angrier when he saw what had been kept from him.

  “Your brothers have the baby. She’ll be fine until after the ceremony.” Her father took her hand, soothing her. “You’re like a chunk of ice, Lara girl. Don’t be so terrified. When the cards turned my way, it was providence. It’s all going to work out.”

  “Is it? What’s going to happen after you all leave and I have to face Houston’s anger alone? He’s going to be furious,” she whispered miserably.

  “If he lays a hand on you, he’ll answer to me.”

  Lara had learned that anger came in many different forms—silence, coldness, yelling. Taking her forcibly. A man didn’t always have to hit.

  She shot him a glare, then realized he couldn’t see her clearly through the veil. “And then what? One of you might end up dead. All because of me.” She couldn’t live with that on her conscience. She wasn’t worth men killing each other over. Her quick hand silenced a sob. “Promise me you won’t meddle in this marriage. Promise me, Papa.”

  “I need to protect you,” Till protested.

  “No. You’ve been heavy-handed enough. Because you gave the man little choice, I’ll have to repair the damage. The rest is up to me.” And Houston, she added silently. “I’ll make this marriage work.” Somehow.

  “Fine. I’ll stay out of it for now, but I don’t like it one bit,” her father finally conceded. “We’d best go now.”

  * * *

  Unlike twelve months ago, this wedding would take place inside Legend headquarters. Houston turned at the whisper of fabric at the parlor door. Like him, the girl in the doorway wore nothing fancy. Just an everyday dress of Wedgwood blue, and oddly enough, a thick, white veil.

  Besides the preacher, only Stoker, Boone, and Lara’s three brothers were in attendance. The twin named Virgil held the baby. Houston was grateful for his wife-to-be’s choice to keep this affair private. This marriage was certainly nothing to celebrate. For him it seemed more of a funeral, burying what was left of his hopes and dreams. From now on, he’d work from sunup to sundown. That would help the ranch and reduce the time he had to make conversation.

  He also had the cattle drive that would take him away for months.

  As Lara took her place beside him, Houston stared at the heavy veil that concealed her features. He hated that he couldn’t see her eyes. Eyes revealed what was in a person’s heart. He wondered what he’d see in hers. Was she happy, sad, indifferent?

  The top of her head didn’t reach his chin and he could tell she was slender, a tiny little thing. He reached for her hand and found it icy and shaking. He realized she was scared to death.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he whispered. “We’ll make this work.”

  Lara didn’t reply. He heard her take in a deep breath as she faced the preacher, and it hit him—they’d forced her into this marriage also. She’d given up every dream she’d ever had, the night she’d been attacked. Before today, he’d thought only of himself. But it wasn’t just him and never was.

  Houston relaxed his scowl before he scared her even worse.

  The ceremony went quickly. He spoke the vows, then Houston slipped Lara’s mother’s ring on her finger. When that was done, the preacher asked him to kiss the bride to seal their union.

  A peck on the cheek would suffice, he decided. She wouldn’t want a real kiss any more than he. Houston lifted the veil and his heart stopped.

  Dear God!

  A long scar ran down the right side of her face, marring what had once been true, delicate beauty.

  Anger raced through him. No one had to tell him the rapist bore responsibility. How could any man do that? Something shifted inside him. Then and there he knew—he wouldn’t rest until he hunted down this animal and made him pay for what he’d done. He would avenge Lara the Legend way, fierce and lasting.

  Surely the young woman carried great wounds, not only outwardly, but inside as well. Houston knew he had to choose his words carefully. What he said now would forever affect the rest of his life.

  Lara’s eyes, the color of green stones at the bottom of a silent pool, met his in a challenge. Her chin tilted at a defiant angle at his hesitation.

  He saw strength, determination, and something else…hope.

  All of a sudden, he was glad Lara Boone belonged to him, and he to her. He would help her heal. And maybe somehow along the way, she could heal him too.

  Houston bent his head and chose to kiss the cheek that was scarred, feeling the raised ridge under his lips. “You’re beautiful. I’m a very lucky man, Mrs. Legend.”

  He allowed a smile, realizing the words sprang from his heart. He hadn’t lied.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, gratitude sparkling in her eyes.

  As soon as he lifted his head, Stoker wormed in, moving Houston aside. “Come here, daughter,”
he boomed, drawing her into a hug. “Welcome to the family. You’re like a warm ray of sunshine after a cold spell. You’re going to brighten up this place.”

  When Lara shot Houston a nervous glance, he winked, realizing she’d never met Stoker either. His father could be intimidating, but he was glad Stoker had risen to the occasion as only he could.

  Abruptly, Stoker shifted, meeting Till Boone’s eyes. Houston watched his father-in-law nod. He took that to mean they’d squared the deal. The land went back to them.

  Lara’s gaze took in both Legend men. “You’re all so nice. Thank you for making me feel…welcome. I didn’t know what you’d think of me.”

  Stoker patted her hand. “We think you’re a very beautiful, very exceptional young lady and we’re proud to have you in this family. You’ll bring a level of grace and dignity that I’ve long missed. I want you to call me Stoker.”

  Before she could reply, her brothers gathered around. Virgil handed her the baby. Houston watched how she tenderly gathered the child and hugged her to her chest. Such a pretty little angel. As Houston noted her reddish-blond curls and big, blue eyes, a fierce protectiveness wound through him. She would never learn the circumstance of her birth, and he pitied anyone who hurt her. This child of his would be loved and always wanted. He briefly wondered about the babe’s name and decided to ask at the first opportunity.

  Houston reached out with a hesitant finger to touch a golden curl the texture of corn silk.

  “Would you like to hold Gracie?” Lara asked softly. “She won’t break.”

  He wasn’t so sure about that; she looked so small and delicate. Before he could decline, Lara transferred the child to his arms. He was amazed at how light she was. A sack of meal probably weighed more. Gracie gave a soft sigh and snuggled against him. Houston gazed down at her, this little person who now bore his name.

  Gracie Legend.

  As the babe stared up at him with her bright eyes, her hand closed around his finger and a smile curved her small, bow mouth. She looked like a little angel.

  His vision blurred and a lump filled his throat.

  He was a father.

  Suddenly, the gold fields of California, the Pacific Ocean, the dream of being free to live as he desired all disappeared.

  Though they’d come into this marriage very differently than most couples, they would be a family. He’d see to it. Lara and his new little angel needed him.

  Five

  The magnitude of Houston’s situation suddenly overwhelmed him. Unable to speak, he handed the baby to Lara and went in search of a strong drink. Though a couple of ranch wives were serving punch in the dining room, that wouldn’t numb the panic and fear crawling up his spine. This called for hard liquor.

  Outside in the hallway, he found himself blocked by Lara’s kid brother Henry. The fourteen-year-old stepped in front of him and shook his finger under Houston’s nose.

  “Be nice,” Henry warned. “If you ain’t nice, I’ll give you a black eye.”

  Seeing as how his young accoster would have to stand on tiptoe to do it made the situation border on the ridiculous. The whole thing would’ve been comical if not for the glisten of tears in Henry’s eyes and his quivering lip.

  “What are you talking about, kid?”

  “My sister. A man hurt her and gave her a baby. If you give her a baby, you’ll be mean too.” Henry stuck up both fists. “I ain’t a-scared o’ you. I’ll black your eye.”

  “I can see how protective you are of your sister,” Houston said calmly, wanting to reassure the boy. He wouldn’t give Lara a baby because they wouldn’t be sleeping together, but there was no way Henry would understand that. “She’s lucky to have you stick up for her. I won’t ever be mean to Lara. How about you and me getting some punch to wet our whistles?”

  Henry shrugged and dropped his fists. “Okay.”

  Just like that, the anger and their impending tussle was forgotten. Houston draped his arm across Henry’s shoulders. “Do you know that I once drank a whole bowl of punch?”

  “Wow! Really?” Henry’s brown eyes grew as round as saucers.

  “Yep. My brother Sam dared me, so I had to do it.” Houston grinned, remembering the outdoor party so long ago. “And you know what else?”

  “Nope.”

  “It made me sick. I had to run behind a tree and throw up.”

  “Did you get in trouble?”

  “Sure did. My pa sent me to bed. Without supper.” He hadn’t been in any shape to eat it anyway, but he had to make it dramatic for Henry’s sake. “And you know what else?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “I dared my brother to kiss a horned toad.”

  “Ewww! Did he?”

  “Yep. And it spit blood in his eye.” Houston grinned. That had felt real good. It was the last time he’d gotten payback for something over Sam.

  They reached the table with pies and cakes laid out on one end and a big punch bowl on the other. He stared longingly at the liquor cabinet standing against the wall, but he sighed and dipped Henry a glass of the sweet, red liquid that still made his stomach queasy. Then he filled a glass for himself.

  Henry took a big drink and burped. “I think I like you.”

  “I’m glad we’re friends. I would’ve hated to have you black my eye. You’ve got a wicked-looking fist there.” Houston noticed the other two brothers, the twins, striding through the door and making a beeline for him. He wondered if a glass of punch would work for them too. It didn’t look it.

  “A private word, Legend.” Virgil Boone’s clipped request sounded more like an order.

  “We can talk in the office.” Houston set down his glass and led the way.

  When Henry tried to follow, the other twin, Quaid, stopped him. “Go back, Henry. This is man business.”

  “I’m a man.” The boy stuck out his chin. “Mr. Houston already told me he would be nice.”

  “That’s good. But I think I hear Pa calling you,” Quaid answered. “Best go see what he wants.”

  “Oh, all right.” Henry trudged off.

  Houston opened the door of the study and ushered the Boone boys inside. “What can I help you with?”

  “This won’t take long,” Virgil said.

  “Care to sit?” Houston motioned to the sofa and chairs.

  “We’ll stand.” Virgil’s gaze scanned the room, lingering on the bookshelves lining the walls. Unless Houston missed his guess, the boy liked to read.

  “Suit yourselves.” Houston took the chair behind the mahogany desk. “What’s this about? I’ve already had your father and Henry lay down the law. I’m guessing it’s your turn?”

  Virgil glanced at Quaid before answering. “Lara’s our only sister and she’s been hurt real bad. We mean to make sure it doesn’t happen again. We know our pa had you over a barrel or you never would’ve married Lara.”

  “You’re probably pretty mad,” Quaid threw in.

  “We just want you to know that we’re gonna watch you,” Virgil finished. “Make Lara cry, and there’ll be hell to pay.”

  Houston held up his hand. “I understand that my wife is your sister and Gracie your niece, but I’m not an ogre,” he said gently. “I’ll work hard to keep Lara happy. I’ll protect her and the child. With my very life if necessary.”

  “That’s not all we wanted to say.” Virgil lowered his voice. He was mostly grown, it looked like, and stood almost as tall as Houston. “Don’t let down your guard. The guy is still out there somewhere and he’s gonna come to finish the job. He’s threatened before that he intends to kill her. Gracie too. He’s as mean as they come. I wounded him that night but he managed to get away. Pa lit out after him but lost the bastard in the brush. We’ve been looking ever since.”

  Anger charged through Houston. “What’s his name?”

  “Pa hired him o
n for a while at the ranch when we were short. Calls himself Yuma Blackstone,” Virgil answered. “It’s a fake name or I’m a porcupine.”

  Probably so. Men on the run from something often hid in plain sight by taking on new names. Houston would do some digging. Something told him he wasn’t going to like what he found.

  “What does Blackstone look like?” Houston’s voice was stone-cold and as sharp as flint. He’d kill the man with his bare hands for what he’d done.

  “He keeps his head shaved bald but he can’t be that old. I’d put him late twenties. Has a thin mustache and missing half of his left ear. Heard a rumor someone shot it off. Has real strange eyes that make you shiver. Almost white, kinda silvery-like.” Virgil gave his strawberry-blond hair an impatient toss when a strand fell near his eye. “Fancies himself a ladies’ man and was always twirling one of his twin pearl-handled pistols like he was itching to use it. Our ranch hands steered clear of him.”

  “Those eyes of his gave me the creeps,” Quaid added quietly. “When the light shone on them just right, I thought he could see inside me.”

  Houston filed away the description. He’d have no trouble recognizing someone like that. Big egos always tripped up men like Yuma Blackstone, and it sounded like he had a huge one. Besides, Houston had an ace in the hole, with a former Texas Ranger for a little brother. They’d find Blackstone, and when they did…

  “Thanks for telling me.” Houston liked Lara’s brothers. Virgil would be someone Houston would love to have next to him in a fight. He sensed this tall brother would never back away from trouble.

  “Least we could do,” Quaid said. “Seeing as how we can’t protect our sister now.”

  “I’m not going to let anyone hurt her again,” Houston promised. “You can count on that. Are any of you married?”

  “Naw,” Quaid drawled. “We’re waitin’ for the right girls. ’Sides, we gotta finish growin’.”