The Heart of a Texas Cowboy

by Linda Broday

  This virile man, knowing what he knew, chose her. She was his wife and from now on she intended to do more than pretend. Her fingers tangled in his hair before her hand slid down his back to his waist.

  He murmured into the hair at her temple. “Your last chance to back out, my rose.”

  A laugh sprang up. “I brought my gun. Reach for your clothes and I’ll shoot you.”

  “You’re kidding. Aren’t you?” His tone relayed teasing doubt.

  “Try me, cowboy.”

  Houston groaned. “I created a jezebel.” He smoothed back her hair and gave her a sizzling kiss that made her toes curl. New spirals of desire flooded all her senses.

  Her breasts tingled, pressed hard against the solid planes of his chest, and her hunger built. She clutched him to her, holding fast, bracing for the moment she’d feared despite every desire not to.

  “Look into my eyes and trust me, sweetheart,” he murmured. “If I bring you pain, you can take your little gun and shoot me. This I promise.”

  But he slid inside and only a melting sweetness came. Their bodies joined and began the dance of love. Passion flowed over her like thick, sweet honey and she embraced the beautiful warmth. Lara dragged in soul-drenching draughts of air, praying the night would never end.

  Something told her she was in the hands of a master. He brought her to a wave’s crest but pulled back before she could plunge over the top. The sweet, teasing torture let her experience the climb several times, until finally, finally, she shattered into a million stars. They rained down on her in a shower of love and passion.

  Only then did he take his pleasure and collapse with a shudder. She lay, trying to force breath into her lungs, marveling at what had happened. Making love wasn’t anything to fear or avoid, and she prayed for lots more.

  After several minutes, still trying to slow his breath, he moved off her. His voice was ragged when he spoke next. “Lady, I sensed deep passion hidden inside you but I didn’t know the half of it.”

  Lara turned on her side and trailed a finger down his chest. “I never imagined it could be this way between two people. I’m very glad fate brought us together. You’ve just proven that you and Nick Vincent are nothing alike.”

  “Oh?” One eyebrow lifted and he mock-growled, “Pray tell, what have you been doing with young Nick?”

  “Relax. Absolutely nothing.” She shared Caroline’s frustrations over her young husband’s quick release.

  He laughed, putting an arm around her. “That explains why they spend every spare second testing the springs of their wagon. Will you tell Caroline about our lovemaking?”

  “Not even a little bit! I won’t share one single thing about you with anyone.” She caressed his jaw and kissed him. “You’re all mine, buster.”

  Theirs was one life, one purpose, one unforgettable love.

  Thirty-eight

  Houston and Lara rode back to camp in the moonlight. Her quiet strength and courage was a balm for his weary soul. They touched, whispering words of love to each other. Lara brought such peace and completeness to his life. His wife had proven a constant surprise. Just when he thought he had her all figured out, she sent him back to the beginning.

  “What time do you think it is?” Lara asked.

  He glanced up at the stars. “Must be about ten o’clock.”

  “Gracie will be asleep by now. I feel guilty for being gone so long. I’m sure Caroline must wonder where we are.”

  “Relax. Like our young friend said, it’s good training for her…and it gave Nick a rest.” Houston chuckled. “Poor guy. She’s going to wear him flat out.”

  Lara giggled. “I think they’re trying to set a record. I’ve never seen anyone more…frisky…than those two. And they don’t seem to care who knows it either. I would die of embarrassment if everyone knew about what we just did.”

  They rode into camp and the men sitting around the fire stared.

  She groaned. “Oh dear. They know.”

  “True, but they’ll never say a word,” Houston assured her. If they did, they’d answer to him, and then they’d be out of a job in nothing flat. He’d have no one talking about his wife. Period.

  He dismounted and helped her down. Looking a bit frazzled, Caroline hurried to Lara with Gracie sobbing in her arms.

  “I’ve done everything and she won’t stop. Oh, I’m going to make a bad, bad, bad mother,” Caroline cried.

  Houston took Gracie while Lara quieted the young girl. The babe hushed instantly and gave him a toothless grin before burying her face in his chest.

  By the time Lara returned, Gracie was fast asleep. He laid the babe in her crib and stood looking down. Something in his gut turned over as he covered the child. She depended on him to keep her safe. No, she depended on them both.

  Could he know more contentment…at least in his marriage?

  But he shouldn’t get too comfortable. Things had a way of changing on a man in the blink of an eye. A strange noise came from beyond the firelight, snagging his attention. The sound didn’t fit with anything else. Houston put his arm around Lara. He cocked his head, listening.

  “What is it?” Lara asked, pressing against him.

  “Not sure.”

  Most of the men around the fire had crawled into their bedrolls and were snoring. The two still awake rose and walked toward the noise with their weapons in hand.

  Crying…someone was crying. Were they hurt? Then came the fierce growls of coyotes. From the noise, it sounded like an entire pack.

  “Wait here,” Houston told Lara.

  The hair rose on the back of his neck. He slid his Colt from the holster and strode toward the din. Once he’d stepped from the firelight, he made out dark forms. One person was surrounded by a pack of wild animals, the shapes proving he was right about coyotes.

  “Help!” cried a male voice. “Help!”

  Houston and his drovers opened fire on the vicious animals. He shot one in midleap, and the slight man it was attacking turned and raced toward him. The drovers cut down three more coyotes. The surviving members of the pack turned and bounded into the pitch-black night.

  Sobbing, the man kept running. “Houston!”

  One of his brothers? No, too young. The voice sounded a little like Henry’s but it couldn’t be. The boy was safe with the Ledbetters. Was it one of Yuma’s tricks? Keeping his Colt aimed at the figure, he waited with the drovers. He wouldn’t move a step farther until he could assess the danger.

  Whoever it was fell to his knees and sank to the dirt. Sobbing, he lay there, a dark blob on the ground. Finally, he began to crawl, digging his hands into the dirt and pulling himself forward. “Help.”

  Houston turned to the drovers. “Cover me. I don’t think he poses any danger, but you never know.”

  “Be careful, boss,” Pony warned.

  With a nod, Houston strode out to the man. The closer he got, the more he could see that it was a mere boy. No, it wasn’t possible. But it was.

  “Henry!”

  “Help me, Houston.”

  Houston raced to him, picked him up and carried him to camp.

  Lara crowded at his elbow. “Henry!”

  “Find a place for me to lay him,” Houston said. “He looks in bad shape.”

  She hurriedly spread a blanket by the fire and Houston gently lowered the boy onto it. His face was scratched, his clothes torn, and his hands a bloody mess. Tears had created streaks through the dirt and blood.

  The boy whimpered and looked up. “I was scared.”

  “You don’t have to be anymore.” Lara smoothed back the hair from his eyes. “You’re safe now.”

  “Bring some water,” Houston told the drover standing closest. “I doubt he’s had anything since early this morning. No telling what he’s been through.”

  Her gaze met his for a moment and, e
ven though her eyes held worry and fear, he saw her strength. “He’ll be all right. Just needs rest. Houston, he still has the money you gave him.”

  That surprised him a little, but he guessed whoever had attacked had been more interested in the adults.

  The drover hurried back with not only a cup of water but also a filled pail so Lara could wash Henry’s wounds. While Houston itched to learn what had happened, he had to give the boy time or it could drive him deeper into shock.

  Gently, Lara bathed Henry’s face and set to work washing the blood from his hands and arms. Slowly, the boy began to come out of it enough to say that outlaws had attacked the Ledbetters. Terrified, Henry had hidden among the dead, silent and still. He heard lots of loud gunshots and other riders came.

  “I snuck out and started walking,” Henry said with tears running down his face. “Followed the cow poop. Big dogs chased me. I kicked and threw rocks but they wouldn’t go away. I thought I was gonna die.”

  “There, there. You’re safe now.” Lara tenderly bathed his face and kissed his forehead. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Houston squatted on his heels. “Henry, did you ever see any of the outlaws before? Was it Yuma?”

  “They killed ’em. Blood. So much blood. Get it off.” He furiously scrubbed at his hands, appearing in deep shock. And no wonder. What he’d witnessed would terrify a grown man.

  “I’ll get it off,” Lara said gently, taking his hands in hers.

  Dammit. All those women. The kids. Slaughtered by riffraff driven by bloodlust. Who were they? Did Yuma Blackstone’s bunch bear responsibility? Why would he attack the Ledbetters when he was so focused on Lara? Or maybe it had been a different group entirely. These were dangerous lands.

  Worry rose for Sam and Luke. For all he knew they were both wounded…or dead. They might need him. He cursed low. He couldn’t leave Lara and Gracie now.

  A sudden thought chilled his blood. If he’d sent them with the Ledbetters, they’d both be dead now.

  Thirty-nine

  Before full light, Houston led the drovers back to the burned-out Indian camp to bury the dead. Seeing the scene again hammered home the horror even more. He had to find the ones responsible. This couldn’t be allowed to happen again. By the time he and the men rode back, he burned with an even-greater need to exact justice.

  Lara waited while he dismounted and then demanded to know what had happened. Holding her tight, Houston told her. Her face drained of color, she quietly gathered Gracie in her arms. Houston knew she was thinking but for the grace of God, she’d be dead.

  Despite misgivings about his brothers, in the end, Houston opted to drive the herd forward—into the damn ground if he had to. Sam and Luke had known and accepted the dangers when they stayed behind. They’d wrap a post around his head if he left Lara to go back and check on them.

  He remembered Lara’s story about the man who tried to do everything for everyone and the end result was only resentment. She was right. He had to trust his brothers to take care of themselves. But dammit, it was hard! Ever since Houston was eight years old, he’d been looking out for Sam. Time to break the habit and accept that Sam was a grown man.

  No, Houston’s place was with his wife and daughter.

  The drovers and cattle forded the Canadian after a late breakfast. The lack of mishaps made him breathe a little easier. He’d paused at the spot where he and Lara made love the previous night, remembering the way she’d made him feel like the richest man in the world.

  He still felt that way now. Needing a dose of her big smile, he galloped past the mile-long formation of hide and horns. After telling Clay to squeeze them up and adjust the width to fifty feet across, he rode for the chuck wagon out front. He’d have a word with his lady before he scouted for trouble.

  Lara’s glance held a special warmth. “Howdy, cowboy. Going my way?”

  He pushed back his hat with a forefinger and gave her his best Texas drawl. “I sure am, ma’am. Know if I can steal a kiss sometime?”

  “I think I can work that out.” She gave him a teasing grin. The sunlight struck her russet hair, turning it to liquid fire. “Show me your hand, gambler, and maybe I’ll let you do more.”

  He let out a long whistle. “You strike a hard bargain, pretty lady. Luckily, I’m holding four aces.”

  This lighthearted side of her was a welcome change from the frightened bride—hidden behind a thick veil—who’d stood with him in front of the preacher. His wild rose was strong and determined.

  Henry shifted on the seat beside her. His face was a mass of cuts and bruises, testifying to his ordeal. He still seemed in shock, staring ahead with unseeing eyes. The boy didn’t even seem aware that he held Gracie in his arms.

  “How’s our boy, Lara?” Houston asked.

  “I think we just have to let time work its magic. My heart breaks, thinking of those poor people.” Her voice cracked. “Hannah never got to hold her sweet baby, and little Hiram the third and fourth will never grow up.”

  “I know, darlin’. Life isn’t fair sometimes.” Not for the Ledbetters and damn sure not for Lara. “Try not to think about it too much.”

  A driving need to avenge them and the Indians was the only thing that helped him cope. There would be justice coming for everyone, and he’d bet twenty of his best horses on that.

  He rode around to Henry’s side. “How are you, Henry?”

  The boy never blinked. Houston asked again.

  Never glancing at him, finally the boy mumbled, “Fine.”

  Gracie raised a big fuss and reached for her papa. Houston leaned over and plucked her from the boy’s lap. “I’ll let her ride with me for a while.”

  Lara smiled. “Bring her back when you get tired of tending her.”

  Houston nodded and hollered to Caroline in her wagon. “You doing all right, Mrs. Vincent?”

  “Doin’ just fine. You sure are lucky to have such a sweet babe, Mr. Legend.”

  “Now, I told you to call me Houston,” he scolded, riding up beside her. “Mr. Legend is my father.”

  Caroline laughed. “My folks taught me to call every adult mister and missus, no matter their age. I can’t break the habit. Is Henry going to be all right?”

  “Eventually. What he saw will be hard to erase. Gonna take some time.”

  “I hope so. He’s such a kind, gentle boy,” Caroline said. “I can’t imagine all those people being dead. I just can’t picture it. They were so nice.”

  “Yes, they were.” Houston turned the roan he’d chosen for the day, intending to ride over to Clay.

  “Mr. Legend,” Caroline called.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “Do you think those murderers will come this way?”

  Houston wished Caroline hadn’t asked the question that had crossed his mind more than once. “If they come, they’ll have to go through Nick and the rest of us to get to you. I have a feeling Nick would fight like a wild badger and leave us with nothing to do but watch.”

  The young woman laughed. “I ’spect you’re right. We don’t have much in the way of worldly goods, but we’ve got each other. Anyone who tries to hurt either of us will have the biggest fight on their hands they ever saw.”

  “For sure.” He noticed Clay out of the saddle, waving his hat in the air, and Houston galloped off to see what he wanted.

  A few seconds later, Clay said, “Got a puny drover.”

  Quaid Boone lay on his side on the ground, puking.

  “Looks that way.” Houston handed Gracie to Clay and dismounted. He squatted down beside the boy, where the smell of spirits nearly overpowered him. “What’s wrong, Quaid?”

  “I’m”—he hiccupped—“sick.”

  “Keeps falling out of the saddle,” Clay said, batting Gracie’s hand away from his eye patch. He wore a grin and winked at Hou
ston with his good eye. “If I was a betting man, I’d say he and Virgil got into some rotgut.”

  “How about it, Quaid?” Houston asked.

  Quaid puked again and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Yes…yes, sir.” He hiccupped again. “But seeing our brother almost d-d-d…dead that…way, do you b-b-blame us?”

  “Think you can crawl onto your horse?” Houston asked.

  The boy nodded.

  “Ride to the wagons. You can lie down until you sober up.”

  “Y-y-yes sir. I don’t f-f-f-feel so good.”

  Houston helped him to his feet, steadying him while he mounted. Quaid finally made it into the saddle after missing the stirrup three times, but most of the credit went to the big heave Houston gave him.

  He swung onto his roan and took Gracie. “Clay, I’ll make sure he reaches Lara. Keep a sharp eye out for trouble. The way the hair is crawling on my neck, something’s coming.”

  “My gut’s speaking to me too. Don’t worry, we’ll stay alert.” Clay reached for his reins.

  “Just curious. How’s Virgil? Is he sick too?” Houston asked.

  “A little green around the gills but nothing like his brother.” Clay chuckled. “Maybe Virgil can handle his liquor better.”

  “I know one thing: Lara is going to give Quaid holy hell. I wouldn’t want to be in the kid’s shoes.” Grinning, Houston followed Quaid, who was slipping and sliding from one side of the saddle to the other as though someone had greased the leather with hog lard.

  Houston caught sight of Henry’s blank stare when he got Quaid to the wagon. Some lessons were a damn sight harder than others.

  * * *

  Two days later, Houston watched Quaid work, glad the boy had recovered from his experiment with whiskey. Lara had lit into him with a fury and it appeared to have left quite a sobering effect.

  They’d reach Fort Supply in another three days. A week and a half had passed since Houston had left Sam and Luke, and concern had grown into full-blown anxiety.