The Heart of a Texas Cowboy

by Linda Broday

  She imagined Gracie was getting hungry. Dismay filled her. She didn’t want to nurse her in front of the men—she’d never even fed Gracie in front of her brothers. Hopefully she could have some privacy before they started moving again. If not, she didn’t know what she’d do.

  Houston rode over. “It’ll take a while to get all these cattle across. Stretch your legs if you want.” He leaned to touch Gracie’s chubby cheek, his gaze meeting Lara’s. “I imagine she’s getting hungry. I’ll rig up something so you can feed her in private before we roll out.”

  That he clearly guessed Lara’s dilemma astounded her. He didn’t miss anything. “Thank you, Houston. I didn’t want to ask.”

  He leaned back in the saddle. “What kind of man would I be to leave you exposed to curious stares?” he asked softly. “You can always ask me anything. You know I’ll move heaven and earth for you, Lara.”

  “I know.” Sudden tears sprang into her eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Hush with that nonsense. You deserve a good deal more than my feeble efforts,” he murmured low. His words seemed to have a double meaning, almost as though he apologized for not loving her.

  Some kind of private message wafted between them. Frustration rose that she was too dumb to read it.

  “I’m hungry too,” Henry announced loudly, breaking the spell.

  Houston swung his attention to him. “Well, I can’t have my cook’s helper being hungry.” Houston dismounted. “Let’s see what we can find in the back of that wagon.”

  Houston climbed up and they disappeared through the opening.

  Lara’s heart swelled for the tall man and the boy full of hero worship who yearned to be just like him. Houston didn’t know it, but he’d already made such a difference in all their lives.

  And the quickening inside her was getting stronger and stronger.

  A few minutes later, Henry crawled from the back, munching on a cold biscuit and a piece of jerky, saying he was going to watch Virgil and Quaid with the cattle. She warned him to stay out of the way.

  “Lara, I made a place for you.” Houston reached for Gracie.

  Surprise washed over her when she saw the cozy place he’d prepared. He’d moved the large barrels of flour and sugar to one side and had made her a low stool from a crate to sit on. A folded bedroll lay on the floor of the wagon for Gracie when she napped.

  “This is perfect. Thank you.” She gazed into his face, wishing she was bold enough to smooth away the deep lines that bracketed his mouth. Maybe one day when she knew him better and the pain of losing the woman he loved wasn’t so strong, she could touch this man she’d married and he’d not wish she was Becky.

  “I also have this curtain of sorts you can pull across once I’m out.” He showed her the piece of burlap he’d tacked up.

  “You’ve thought of everything.” The private little space was all Lara needed and Houston had fixed it up just for her. A pleasant warmth stole over her. But her insistence that she was one of the drovers crossed her mind. He was already treating her differently. She placed a hand on his broad chest, trying not to notice the beat of his heart beneath her palm. “Now go. You have your men and the cattle to see about. Gracie and I are fine.”

  Hearing her name, the baby girl began to babble excitedly.

  Houston laughed. “One day Angel is going to lay down the law to both of us and in a language we’ll have no problem understanding.”

  “I expect so.”

  Still Houston stood as though needing to say more.

  “Is something bothering you?” she asked.

  “Lara, don’t walk on eggshells around me. I’m not going to get mad or start hollering if you say or do things. This marriage is only going to work if we relax and be ourselves.” Houston touched her cheek with a finger. “I’m not an easy man to live with. I know that. Sometimes I might forget to soften my voice. But it won’t mean anything against you.” He released a deep sigh. “I have far too much of Stoker in me and that’s a fact.”

  She took Gracie from him. “I understand what you’re saying. Trying too hard is just as bad or worse than not trying hard enough. I’m going to be a work in progress, though.”

  “All this is going to take time.”

  Lara just wondered if their life together would always be crowded with Becky’s ghost. Or would Houston one day see Lara instead of the woman he wished she was?

  “I’m glad we’re having this conversation,” Lara said. “I need to get something off my mind. Let’s make a vow that if either of us wants out of this marriage, we can leave with no questions asked.”

  He jerked in surprise. His voice was quiet. “Is that what you want, Lara? Do you wish to go back to your father?”

  “No.” She was only giving him a way out if he grew to find her too lacking. “I like being here away from the memories. I like being with you.”

  “I like being with you too.” He appeared relieved that she wasn’t asking out of the marriage.

  Or had she only imagined that?

  Saying he needed to see to things, he left. Lara watched him through the canvas opening, admiring his lean figure and broad shoulders. He swung into the saddle as easily as stepping from bed and rode to help his men.

  She would never leave him. Somehow, unexpectedly, he was becoming her life and this was starting to be her home.

  Twelve

  Someone is trailing us.

  The hair rose on Houston’s neck as he lifted a spyglass for another look and adjusted for the morning sun. Four riders. Too far away to make out more than that. Yet, they were always there. Always just barely in sight no matter how fast or slow the cattle went. Always keeping a safe distance back. His gut clenched into a knot.

  He’d first noticed them yesterday and cautioned his men to be on alert. They could be the outlaws Sam had warned about. Or rustlers.

  They’d traveled three days into Indian Territory, which put them beyond range of any law. The raw, untamed land was the perfect place for an attack, with hundreds of hills, ravines, and canyons for a group of no-accounts to hide in. To the east, the peaks of the Wichita Mountains rose. He’d have to double up on guard duty.

  Houston put away his spyglass and galloped toward the chuck wagon that lumbered along behind the cattle now snaking across Cherokee lands. Several Indian groups had ridden close in the past two days but hadn’t spoken. The men weren’t hostile. Maybe a little curious, maybe guarding their land, or maybe just extending friendship. Here on the short-grass prairie, they knew exactly where hidden dangers lay and had other beneficial advice.

  He slowed his horse to ride beside the chuck wagon. “Is everything all right?”

  Lara smiled, the sun brushing her face beneath her hat. “Going fine.”

  Their nightly ritual of kissing had left him in a sorry state. He loved feeling her warm lips beneath his, and that was fine in the beginning, but he wanted to touch the softness of her skin.

  Last night while he’d held her in his arms, he casually tugged down the collar of her dress and pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat. She hadn’t pushed him away. And the wild pulse beneath his lips had been enough to keep him awake most of the night. Maybe tonight he’d try that again, or do something more daring if she seemed like she wanted him to.

  Though she was coming to trust him more, he had to go slow. The wrong move could send him back to the beginning in a heartbeat. Lara remained—what she called—broken inside. Like he was a year ago. Maybe with time, two broken people could become one strong piece of steel that could stand any test.

  Houston shoved away his thoughts. “Glad you have everything under control, Lara. Anything I can do before I ride to the front?”

  From the security of Henry’s arms, Gracie started jabbering furiously and reaching for Houston. He had a feeling she was baby-cussing him for ignoring her. “Mind if I
take Angel for a spell?” he asked. “A ride would do her good.”

  Lara’s smile faded into worry. “Houston, you can’t take care of a baby on horseback. You have things to do.”

  “And I’ll do them. Angel can help.” When he saw his wife soften, he rode to the other side, plucked Gracie up, and settled her in the saddle in front of him. “I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

  “I know you will. Bring her back when you get tired of her.”

  As Gracie snuggled against him and looked up with her big blue eyes, Houston grinned. That would never be. “I ’spect I’ll see you when she gets hungry.”

  Sudden laughter that sprang from Lara’s mouth surprised him. The sound reminded him of the silvery tinkle of a bell. He liked it. They seemed to be relaxing and drawing closer. With each kiss, a little more of the barrier between them crumbled. Who knew what would happen by the time they reached Dodge City.

  Sudden memory of her talk about leaving crowded his mind. He’d fought tooth and nail against this but now the idea of her walking out brought deep pain.

  “She’ll pee on you,” Henry yelled as Houston began moving away.

  “Then I’ll bring her back to you, Bones,” Houston yelled back.

  The boy hooted with glee. Houston glanced up at the big blue sky and winked at God. The big man had brought joy into his life in ways he was still discovering. It seemed a lot like peeling an onion and uncovering all the many hidden layers. Some were thin and some a little thicker, but they all comprised a rich wholeness he’d never had.

  He moved near some straggling longhorns, and Gracie began jabbering excitedly and shaking her finger as though scolding the animals for not sticking with the herd.

  “You tell ’em, baby girl. Get on up there, you hide-covered bag of bones, and be quick about it.”

  Gracie giggled. The sound drifted past the worry that he wouldn’t measure up as a father and settled deep in a private place in his heart. Whatever he’d gone through had been worth it, to get to this point. If he could help shape this tiny little girl into a beautiful young lady, he’d be happy. He thought of her more and more as his daughter. A mist sprang into his eyes and a lump rose in his throat.

  He turned the Appaloosa out of range of the dust clouds and skirted some five-foot-high juniper. To be on the safe side, he removed the bandana from around his neck and tied it across Gracie’s nose. She stared up at him, her blue eyes twinkling like stars.

  “You look like a pint-sized bandit, little one. Ready to take to the outlaw trail, rob a bank or two?”

  She babbled something and laughed. That she didn’t try to yank the cloth off as most babies probably would appeared a miracle. He guessed she liked being a bandida. He could imagine the wanted poster hanging with her picture on it as she looked now. The words beneath might say: Desperada on the loose! Disarming and dangerous heart stealer.

  Lara’s brother Virgil chased after a runaway. He got it back into the herd and rode over.

  “Hi, Gracie. You herding ornery ol’ cows?” Virgil asked.

  Sharp jabbering seemed to scold him for mistaking her for a common drover.

  Virgil threw back his head and laughed. “I guess I got told.”

  “Yep, in no uncertain terms,” Houston agreed. “She’s got no shortage of sass.” He groaned. “Already.”

  “She does know how to lay down the law. Well, I guess I’d best get back to work.” Virgil waved to Gracie and turned to focus on his job.

  He noticed Clay speaking to a group of Cherokees in their language and joined them. Two Indian women and three small children were among the band numbering close to two dozen.

  “These people are telling me things to watch for ahead,” Clay said low. “They said water is scarce. Not much until we reach the Canadian River.”

  Houston searched each of their faces, saw the pride reflected in their eyes. He nodded and smiled. “Tell them we’re grateful for their help and ask them to join us for supper. Why are they in the area?”

  “They’re protecting a small herd of buffalo in a nearby canyon from hunters. There’s a sacred white one among the herd,” Clay replied. “We need to detour around the animals.”

  “Of course. I don’t want to cause a problem for them.”

  Gracie gave excited jabbers and yanked off the bandana.

  One of the women, who looked to be in her middle years, noticed Gracie and came near. Sadness oozed from her. Her clothes were simple doeskin but she walked as tall as a queen. She smiled. “Pretty smile.”

  “Yep, she can rival the sun, all right,” Houston replied, standing the baby in front of him. “Her name’s Gracie Jewel.”

  “Blessed one,” she said. “Important. Healer.”

  She took Houston aback. Maybe they were just empty words to make small talk, but somehow he didn’t think so. “I hope you’re right.” Maybe Gracie could heal her mama. She seemed to have already started. From what Lara’s brothers had said, she was in bad shape at first, not eating or sleeping and startling at the slightest sound. Houston turned to Clay. “Tell them they’re welcome in our camp anytime as honored guests.”

  Clay grinned and gave him a curt nod. “Be my pleasure.”

  After relaying the message, the woman who’d spoken to Houston asked him to lower Gracie. When he complied, she handed the child a carved wooden wolf that was painted red.

  “Keep safe. Men follow.”

  Houston swung from the saddle. “What are you saying?”

  “They come. Evil.” Without more, she turned and rejoined the others, marching off toward some barren, low-slung hills.

  “Hey, wait. I want to ask about the men.” Houston stared helplessly after her. He needed more. What did she know about the men trailing them?

  Hell and be damned! But clearly he’d get nothing else from her now. When she came with the rest later, he’d take the woman aside and ask. He had to know what she meant. How could he protect his people if he didn’t know the threat?

  His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He couldn’t lose what he’d found.

  He’d fight the devil with his own pitchfork first.

  Or with a bullet from his Colt.

  * * *

  Lara put the finishing touches on the evening meal. She wanted everything to be ready for their guests. These people had given them useful information, according to Houston, and she wanted to repay them.

  The food was simple—beefsteaks, fried potatoes, red beans, and sourdough bread, with peach cobbler for dessert. As she stirred the potatoes, she thought of the haunted look that had been in Houston’s eyes when he brought Gracie back. Her husband was uneasy and it didn’t take a fortune-teller to know he kept something from her.

  Everyone around her thought keeping quiet and not raising an alarm was doing her a favor. But danger had stalked her during one of those times. Her father and brothers hadn’t wanted to frighten her, so they’d kept their suspicions about Yuma to themselves.

  When people kept secrets, no one was safe.

  Danger stalked her again now, and what terrified her most was not knowing from which direction it would come.

  She cast Houston a glance as she cooked. He stood talking with her brothers and several of the other drovers. And of course Gracie was in the middle of it. They passed the babe around like she was a piece of penny candy they’d bought at the mercantile, and the little stinker loved every bit of attention she could get. You’d think she was starved for love the way she carried on, but from the moment she took her first breath of air, she’d been coddled. Someone was always lugging her around. She wouldn’t be worth two cents when she was older, if something didn’t change.

  Lara let out a chuckle, remembering how Gracie had looked with Houston’s bandana tied around her nose when he brought her back. She’d sat so straight in front of him on the horse. So serious. Just like a
little outlaw.

  And Houston’s big grin, the kind that made the lines at the corners of his eyes fan out, had made her wonder which of them had the best time.

  With her eyes on her husband, Lara saw the group of Cherokees enter her line of vision. Houston went to greet them. She stirred the potatoes one last time and set them off the fire.

  Wiping her hands on her apron, she moved to Houston’s side. “Welcome. I’m glad you came to join us,” she said.

  Houston put his arm around her. “Meet my wife, Lara. She makes very good food.” When he rubbed his belly and rolled his eyes, they laughed and nodded. Her husband, the comedian. But then, he’d put them at ease. Hunger was a universal language, understood by all.

  Though they gave her curious stares, they didn’t move toward her. She shrank back a little, thinking they took in her scar as did everyone she met. One man, evidently the spokesman, stepped forward. “We come.”

  “Welcome. We’re honored.” Houston waved his arm toward the food. “Eat.”

  She stood aside as everyone filled tin plates and sat down. No one, not cowboy or Indian, spoke much. Maybe they didn’t know what to say to each other. She filled her plate and joined them, Houston making room for her on his blanket. Gracie sat inside the circle of his arms, gnawing on a piece of bread.

  “You have a big heart, Houston Legend,” Lara murmured beside him.

  “Shhh!” He winked. “Keep that quiet. I wouldn’t want it to get out.”

  She noticed his gaze scanning the group as though searching for someone. “Who are you looking for?”

  “A Cherokee woman I met today. I wanted to talk to her.”

  “You don’t see her among them?”

  “Nope.” He forked a bite of steak into his mouth. “You outdid yourself tonight, Lara. This is delicious.”

  “I’m glad you think so. My resources were pretty limited but I wanted something a little more festive than our normal fare.” Lara put a bite of potatoes into Gracie’s mouth and watched her brother, Henry, taking a plate of meat around, asking if anyone wanted seconds. “What did you want to speak to the Indian woman about, if you don’t mind my asking?”