The Heart of a Texas Cowboy

by Linda Broday

  “You’re always so calm. Do you ever get afraid you’ll die?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “How do you manage to hide it?”

  “Lord knows I fail miserably. Maybe what helps is forcing myself to stare danger in the face and move toward it, even when I want to run.” He draped his arm protectively across her stomach and she savored the weight.

  Lara snuggled against him, listening to his heart beating. “I’m terrified. Not for me, but for Gracie and Henry. And you.”

  Hot tears lurked behind her eyes. To lose her husband would banish every bit of sunshine and laughter from the earth. She meant to soak up every second of being in his arms.

  Just in case they didn’t make it.

  He brushed her temple with his lips and the touch was so tender it made the backs of her eyes burn.

  “Tell me about this house I’m going to build for you. Anything special in mind?” he asked.

  Lara knew he was trying to take her mind off the looming fight and she loved him for it. “I want a wide porch going all the way around. In the mornings, I can sit out there and watch the sun come up, and in the evenings I can see the sunset.”

  “How big is this house?”

  “Two-story. Four large bedrooms upstairs.” She absently created circles on his leather vest with a finger. “A bathing room with hot and cold running water and a water closet. Big windows downstairs that let light flood in.”

  “Anything else?”

  The way they spoke in hushed voices, little more than whispers, Lara felt as though they were locked in their own private world.

  “A tall flagpole at the corner of the house so we can fly our own Texas flag. That means a lot to me. That flag honors the men who paid the ultimate price so I might live free.” She glanced up and smiled. “This state has seen so much bloodshed, yet we Texans still stand tall. I wouldn’t live anywhere else.”

  “Me either. It’s the best place this side of heaven.”

  Lara glanced at a few men grabbing what sleep they could a few yards away, wishing she could make love to Houston, yet knowing she couldn’t.

  As though sensing her thoughts, Houston nibbled his way across her lips until he coaxed them open. Lara gave a soft sigh and welcomed his tongue, curling hers around it. His mouth seemed like velvet as he created a seal, locking in the hunger of his kiss.

  His rough palm slid along the curves of her body, sending warm waves of pleasure down to her toes. God in heaven, she wanted him. This man had taken her into his heart and she cherished him more than her own life.

  Sliding her hand into his hair, she melted into his arms, glad she had come on this cattle drive, remembering making love beside the Canadian River in the moonlight. She was meant to be with Houston Legend. Surely the God who’d brought them together despite the odds wouldn’t separate them now. He wouldn’t be that cruel.

  Houston was hers.

  As their lips parted, she murmured against his mouth, “I love you, cowboy. Don’t ever forget.”

  “No chance.” Houston smoothed back her hair. “No matter what tomorrow brings, I will always cherish this time with you.”

  “Looking back, it amazes me how we ever got to the altar. One misstep or changed event and we’d never have met.” The magnitude still boggled her mind.

  Rising on an elbow, he ran the tip of his finger down her scarred cheek. “You’ve given me more happiness than I have a right to.”

  “I’m glad. You have me too.”

  With a rumble in his chest, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “When we get to Dodge, I’m going to deck you out in silk. And when you walk down the street on my arm, who do you think they’ll be looking at?”

  “You,” she breathed. “No man ever cut a finer figure.”

  “Nope. They’ll pay me no mind, because you’ll blind them with your beauty. And I’ll be the proudest man you ever saw.”

  Lara snuggled against him, soaking up the happiness of being with Houston. She never wanted this to end. But would tomorrow sever them forever? A thickness formed in her throat. If he died, she wanted to die with him. She couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.

  Heavy silence enveloped them as Lara laid her head on his chest and listened to the sound of his soft breathing.

  This man she’d married would never falter or waver from the rules he’d created deep within his soul—things like love, honor, and protect.

  She thought he’d gone to sleep until another rumble came from his chest. “Lara, tomorrow I’m going to send you, Caroline, and the children ahead.”

  A fist closed around her heart. He couldn’t ask this. “No.”

  “Listen to me,” he said gently, rising up on an elbow. His touch was tender on her skin. “I can’t have you here. It’s too risky. No matter what happens, it will end right here.”

  “I’m staying.” Leaving him would kill her.

  He turned her head to look into her eyes. “I wish I could let you, but I can’t this time. I need you to ride as fast as you can to Fort Supply. Probably take a little over two days in the wagon. Wait there. I’ll join you when I can.”

  “Please don’t ask this of me. To leave you will rip out my heart.” Her voice was thick with an ache no words could express. He needed her. She needed him.

  Houston brushed her ear with his lips. “I’d rather I rip it out than Yuma. Think of Gracie, Henry, Caroline. If they stay here, they’ll die. They’re counting on you to lead them to safety. Be strong for me.”

  He asked the impossible. She couldn’t do this. What made him think she was strong? She ran from trouble like some whimpering, frightened, pathetic animal.

  She’d let Yuma instill fear so deep inside, the sun’s warmth couldn’t reach it. Even worse, she’d almost let the man break her. How could she ride off and hide where she was safe and let Houston face the demons that rightfully belonged to her?

  “You have to, for the children and that young girl,” he whispered in her ear as though he’d read her thoughts. “For them, you have to do this. Do it for me.”

  “I’ll do most anything you ask.” Lara tried to calm the mass of quivers inside her. “You’re my partner, my best friend, my lover. Just don’t ask me to bury you, because I can’t. We’re going to give Yuma Blackstone a whipping he won’t ever forget.”

  Forty-one

  By daylight, doubt had crept in that they might not win. After a sleepless night in Houston’s arms, Lara quietly pulled away from him to start breakfast. Fighting men needed extra food, a feast to give them strength to defeat the foe.

  He reached for her. “Morning, darlin’.”

  “I hoped you were sleeping.” She raised her lips for a kiss.

  “Too much to think about.”

  “Me too. I’ve got to get the biscuits on.”

  They rose and she went to prepare a meal. Her heart was heavy and she was hard-pressed to give Henry a smile. He sat in the wagon box, clutching Gracie. That was where she often found her little brother these days. He seemed to feel safest there. To make matters worse, the overcast sky and softly falling rain added to the thick gloom encasing them.

  Perfect. Could the good Lord not even give them a little sunshine? The men needed to be able to see the enemy. And their guns needed to be able to shoot.

  Lara avoided meeting Houston’s gaze for fear that the tears lurking so close to the surface would spill. If she could do little else, she was determined not to add to the burden he carried on his broad shoulders. She bustled around, pretending to be busier than she was, but a sharp-edged sense of Houston’s whereabouts hummed under her skin every second.

  A memory swept over her from her time in Amarosa. A man there had kept carrier pigeons. The birds had always fascinated her, and she’d always been curious to know how they could return to their roost from anywhere.

&nbs
p; Now she knew. They instinctively had some sort of built-in homing ability. Lara did too and it wouldn’t let her get lost from the man who’d shown her deep love. Slowly, she relaxed. Worry didn’t do much anyway, except give her gray hair. She wouldn’t saddle Houston with a gray-haired wife this soon in addition to everything else.

  Caroline joined her and they could’ve made matching bookends. Judging from the girl’s low spirits, Nick had told her the plan too. Words were at a premium as they cooked.

  After getting the biscuits on, she left the young newlywed to watch the salt pork sizzling in the skillet and went to find Henry, who’d disappeared from the wagon box. She spied him lugging Gracie, following so close on Luke’s heels it seemed a wonder he didn’t plow right into the tall gunslinger.

  “Henry, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

  Though silent, he glanced up.

  “Make sure you have all your belongings packed in the wagon. We’re leaving as soon as we eat. Can you do that?”

  He nodded. “Is Uncle Luke coming too?”

  Worry in his eyes dried Lara’s mouth. He too sensed trouble. No wonder, since the same fear was so thick it clogged her throat. She forced a smile and brushed back a lock of red hair from his forehead. When had he gotten so tall?

  “He will soon. For now, we have to go in front.”

  “Yuma’s coming,” Henry whispered in a loud rasp.

  If only she could lie. But he needed the truth—at least partially. “Honey, try not to be afraid.”

  Henry rocked back and forth on his heels, his gaze glued on the distance. “I gotta find my rock. Help me. Help me.”

  “Calm down, I’ll find one.” Though she needed to make gravy, she took time to locate a big rock and put it in his hands. Odd how relaxed the stone made him. Now, if she could only find some easy fix for her fears. But the only thing for that would be seeing Houston ride into the fort unscathed, ready to scoop her up into his arms.

  Only then would she be able to breathe.

  * * *

  After breakfast, Houston stood in the rain beside the chuck wagon. He pulled Lara close, feeding his fierce need to feel her heart next to his.

  “I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love anyone. Though I was thirty when we wed, I feel like I was just a boy.” He cleared the lump from his throat. “You’ve taught me patience, gentleness, and most importantly, how to love. Whatever happens here, I’ll gladly give my life for you and Gracie.”

  She touched his face as tears broke through her resolute smile. “I wish I could stay by your side, but I’ll do what you ask.”

  “Promise you won’t look back. Never back. Always forward.”

  “I never make a promise I can’t keep.”

  With a hoarse cry, Houston crushed her to him and lowered his mouth. He’d never felt these conflicting emotions that ricocheted through him, bouncing off bone and muscle. God, he didn’t want her to go. He couldn’t. But he had no choice.

  Drinking his fill of the woman who’d changed his life, he cherished every second with her in his arms.

  Loud voices broke them apart. It was Nick and Caroline.

  “I swear, Nick Vincent, you’re the stubbornest man on the face of the earth!” Caroline shouted. “You know I can shoot an’ doctor an’ cook. You need me.”

  “Nope. You ain’t staying and that’s that.”

  The young girl flung both arms around Nick’s neck. “I ain’t no good without you. I buried my parents and my four brothers and I’m not burying you. I’m not. I just ain’t gonna do it.”

  Houston spoke up. “Sorry to butt in at the risk of losing my nose. Nick, this isn’t your fight. Go with Caroline, find your uncle, and start a family. You don’t have to stay.”

  Nick faced him squarely. “Mr. Legend, you’ve been real kind to Caroline and me. I’ve never had anyone treat us so nice. You took a chance on me and I’m not going to run out now.” He slid his arm around Caroline and kissed her hair. “I figure if I run from this, I’ll be running for the rest of my life. A man needs to stand up and be counted or he can’t live with himself. I want our children to be proud I’m their pa. I’ll stay and fight right alongside you and these drovers.”

  Thrusting out a hand, Houston shook Nick’s. He liked the strength in the boy’s grip. “Glad to have you, son.”

  “Thank you, boss.” Nick turned to Caroline. “Now give me a kiss, wife honey. You and Miz Lara gotta be going.”

  As the young couple finished their good-byes, Houston slipped his hand into Lara’s pocket, searching for the small gun. Relieved to find she still carried it, he helped her up into the wagon box beside Henry. He was pressed in the middle between Lara and Caroline and he held Gracie tightly, staring straight ahead. Houston saw the fear digging deep inside. He could almost read the boy’s thoughts: he was being sent away again.

  Nick climbed up to give Caroline another kiss. The young woman wiped her eyes.

  “Remember, Lara,” Houston said. “Ride hard, and don’t look back.”

  “I’m not going to tell you good-bye. I’ll see you again after you whip these bastards.” Lifting the reins, she set the wagon in motion. Gracie cried, kicking her legs and reaching for him. He swallowed hard and turned away before he could stop them.

  Damn Yuma Blackstone to hell! All they wanted was to love each other, live in peace, raise a family.

  Caroline leaned over the side to yell, “Nick Vincent, if you die I’ll never speak to you again! You better come back to me”—she paused and softened her tone—“sweetheart.”

  Quaid and Pete moved to Houston, leading their mounts.

  “Keep them safe, boys. I’m leaving the best part of me in your hands,” Houston said gruffly.

  They nodded, stuck their feet into stirrups and mounted up.

  Houston turned his thoughts to the fight that lay ahead, praying for a miracle.

  Frank Farley suddenly blocked him. “Give me a gun. Let me go in Pete’s place. I’ll protect your family with my blood.”

  “How do I know you won’t turn and fight with Yuma?”

  “You don’t and I haven’t given you much reason to believe me.” Tears filled the hard man’s eyes. “I once had an honest life full of promise. Yuma rode in one day, reminding me I owed him. He’d saved my life during the war, you see. When I refused to ride with him, he burned my house and barn to the ground, destroyed my crops. Everything I’d worked for was gone. I need a chance to make him pay. Just one.” The man widened his stance. “You need another fighter you can depend on. I’ll be that.”

  The raw emotion that leaked from Frank’s heart touched Houston. He told Quaid and Pete to wait. “Your gun is in my saddlebag. But cross me and I’ll hunt you down.”

  “I want Blackstone stopped as much as you do. Maybe more. You won’t regret this.”

  “I pray you’re right.” Houston told Pete about the switch. “Go help the ones digging.”

  Once Quaid and Frank had ridden out alongside the lumbering wagon, Houston had a hurried talk with his brothers and Clay. “What do you think about getting a few men up to the top of this cliff?”

  Sam tilted his head to glance up at the solid rock wall. “That’s thirty feet straight up. It’s too sheer, nothing to hold on to.”

  “With ropes we can,” Luke said quietly. “I’ll scale it and pull men up.”

  “The job’ll take two,” Clay said. “I’ll go with you.”

  They worked to the bone the next three hours and got four armed drovers and everything they’d need on top of the cliff. Meanwhile, Houston arranged pots and pans by the campfire and scattered clothing all around, so it appeared the women were there. He prayed Yuma wouldn’t notice the missing chuck wagon.

  Then they ran out of time.

  “They’re here!” The shout came from atop the cliff. “God almighty, there�
��s a bunch!”

  Thick dread knotted in Houston’s stomach and drovers scrambled into the trench. He could see Luke rappelling down the cliff, Sam staying with the drovers. This was it. Whatever happened, the fight would end here. Today.

  The sudden riders froze Houston, caught in the middle of the herd he’d been weaving through. He shot a hopeless glance at the Vincents’ wagon on the east side of the trail, his intended target. He’d wanted to bring it next to the campfire to add to the cozy appearance. Even so, he could’ve used the wagon where it sat, but that wasn’t possible now.

  Hope faded of catching the outlaws in a crossfire.

  They burst in with a flurry of rifle shots, choking acrid smoke, and war cries. The fact that the lawless group had arrived far earlier than anticipated told him they must’ve ridden all night.

  He knew they couldn’t see him in the middle of the cattle, but still he felt exposed.

  No wonder. His heart froze at the size of their force. Their numbers were far greater than the dozen or so they’d counted the night Houston and Clay had found their camp. Even with his brothers sending six into an early grave, he estimated at least two-dozen riders coming in.

  Where the hell had they picked up the extras? Had Yuma sent up a smoke signal and they all came running? Deep as they were in outlaw territory, Blackstone probably had no trouble finding more. Just turn over any rock.

  Hell! At least Houston was glad he and his brothers had worked so hard getting drovers set for the fight. The force’s erratic shooting showed they had no idea where the drovers were.

  With his rifle to his shoulder, Houston waited. He’d ordered his men not to waste lead, to wait for a target. He didn’t see Yuma. So far, all the smoke had come from the outlaws’ weapons. Not seeing any drovers, they began shooting the animals.

  Houston clenched his jaw, adjusted the sight on his rifle, and placed the crosshairs on the chest of Digger Barnes and his cartridge belts. The sneer curling the man’s lip sent rage cartwheeling through him.

  “Say hello to the devil, you piece of crow bait. This is for my wife.” Houston pulled the trigger.