Rogues in Texas 03 - Never Marry a Cowboy

by Lorraine Heath

  *

  Christopher carried the spoon of soup to the thin line of his father’s lips. He sighed. “Father, I know you can open your mouth because I hear you cursing me through the night when you think I’m asleep.”

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Not now, Mrs. Gurney!” he yelled. The woman was the only one to know that his father was here. She came in every day to straighten the room and change the sheets on the two beds.

  The knock came again.

  “Please come back later!”

  Another knock.

  “Bloody hell.” He tossed the spoon into the bowl, sending soup splattering over the dresser. He resisted the incredibly strong urge to dump the bowl over his father’s head.

  He rose, stalked across the room, and flung open the door. “Mrs. Gurney—”

  He stopped as he stared into Elizabeth Fairfield’s blue eyes.

  “Mr. Montgomery—”

  He held up a hand. “Mrs. Fairfield, I apologize profusely for my earlier words. They were totally uncalled for and quite unlike me, actually. You disparaged my brother, and I took offense because I feel you’ve misjudged him. But those feelings aside, I did not act as a gentleman, and I beg your forgiveness. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll bid you good day.”

  He started to close the door, and she placed her hand on it.

  “I’m the one who should apologize,” she said softly.

  He forced himself to smile benignly. “I assure you, Mrs. Fairfield, no apology is necessary.”

  He closed the door another inch before she stopped him.

  “Mr. Montgomery—”

  “Mrs. Fairfield, now is not a good time. My patience is frayed. My father will not open his mouth to eat, even though he slings curses at me all night. My brother left Galveston several days ago to take his wife to Dallas . The stagecoach was apparently attacked by a band of outlaws. Three men were killed. There is no sign of my brother or his wife, so God only knows where they are. I’ve hired men to search for them, praying every moment that they are not dead. People continue to confuse me with Kit and ask me to handle matters over which I not only have no authority but I have no knowledge. The heat is unbearable. There are no theaters to offer an evening’s respite from the worries—”

  “Come have dinner at my house.”

  He knew his mouth was agape and that he must look like a bloody fool. “I beg your pardon?”

  “When your brother and his friends first arrived, I scolded Abbie for not giving them a proper Texas welcome, and here, I’ve done the same thing with you that my sister did. I’d like to make amends. I’ve got no theater to offer you, but I have a piano and my girls can sing.”

  Sadly, he shook his head and spoke in a low voice. “My father has suffered a stroke. I promised him I would not let anyone know he was here save Mrs. Gurney, and here I’ve blurted out his presence to you. I hope you will keep my lapse of judgment to yourself.”

  “I won’t tell anyone he’s here.”

  “Thank you. However, since you do know of his condition, you must realize I cannot accept your invitation. I dare not leave him.”

  She gave him a beautiful smile. “Mrs. Gurney can watch him. Besides, you’ll probably both benefit from an evening apart.” She handed him a slip of paper. “I took the liberty of drawing you up a map. I serve dinner at six. Be there.”

  She began to walk away.

  “I can’t promise.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Didn’t ask for your promise, only your presence.”

  He closed the door and looked at the map. What a splendid calling card.

  *

  With a sigh of wonder and a stomach fuller than he’d ever known, Christopher sat in the rocking chair on Elizabeth Fairfield’s front porch and watched the sun hover at the edge of the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and violet and pink. How could he have been here a week and failed to notice the sunset?

  Beside him, Elizabeth sat in a rocker and her three daughters—mirror images of their mother—sat on the front steps. Elizabeth ‘s house was not grand, but it filled him with peace. He thought of the contentment reflected on both Harrison’s and Grayson’s faces. Would he see the same on Kit’s? And if he did, what then? Should he reveal the truth he’d discovered?

  “I love watching the sunset,” Elizabeth said softly. “Daniel and I never had much money for fancy things. He used to say that was the reason God gave us sunsets so we could always have something pretty in our lives that didn’t cost us anything.”

  “Was Daniel your husband?”

  She nodded and slid her gaze toward him, sadness in her eyes. “He was killed during the War Between the States.”

  “I’m incredibly sorry,” he said quietly.

  “I might not have minded so much if we’d won the war.” She released a small chuckle. “Nah, I still would have minded. Loved him something fierce.” She returned her attention to the horizon. “Grayson said you’re a widower.”

  “Yes, my wife took ill and died shortly before Kit and his friends ventured over here.”

  She glanced at him. “Do you still miss her?”

  He gave her a sorrowful smile. “Every day.”

  She nodded as though with understanding. “I keep staring down that road expecting to see Daniel walking up it some evening. My head knows he won’t, but my heart hopes.”

  “It must be hard on a woman who is alone,” he said.

  “Don’t imagine it’s any harder on a woman than it is on a man.”

  “But there are times when a woman would require a man’s physical strength to get a job accomplished.”

  She peered at him with a glint in her eye. “And there are times when a man requires a woman’s compassion to see him through the turmoil of life.”

  “You’re quite right. I think I miss most having someone with whom I may share my troubles.”

  “Have you got a lot of troubles?”

  He shook his head slightly. “Not really. Others are far worse off than I am.”

  A companionable silence surrounded them as the final rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon.

  “Girls, you need to say goodnight to Mr. Montgomery before you get yourselves to bed,” Elizabeth said as the darkness moved in.

  He considered correcting her on exactly how he should be addressed, but decided it was of no importance here. The girls, ages fourteen, twelve, and ten, gave him a shy goodnight before hurrying into the house.

  “I’m just going to tuck them in,” Elizabeth said, “then I’ll be back out.”

  He sat on the porch alone, knowing he should leave soon, but loathing the idea of returning to the room he shared with his father. When he wasn’t cursing, the man snored. Christopher had always known that burdens came with being the heir apparent. He’d simply never realized how difficult they would be to carry.

  A shadow crossing the threshold caught his eye. He glanced up and smiled at Elizabeth . “I should be leaving.”

  “Stay a little longer,” she said quietly. “I haven’t had a man sit on my front porch in a long time. I’ve missed it.”

  “Have you always lived here?” he asked.

  “Not in this house, but in this area. I was born in a house just up the road. My brother lives there now with his family. This house, this land, belonged to Daniel’s family.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Hot, but beautiful. He could sense her watching him as the night shadows crept closer. He turned his head slightly and raised a brow, although he doubted she could see the slight action.

  “You sure do look like him, but you don’t flirt like him,” she said quietly.

  “Ah,” he said on a sigh. “I assume you’re referring to my brother. As heir to my father’s estate, I am expected to behave with a bit more decorum, which makes me a tad boring.”

  “I don’t think you’re boring.”

  He resisted the temptation to reach across and touch her hand. “Thank you.”


  She laughed lightly. “You don’t thank someone for speaking the truth.”

  Averting his gaze, he shifted in his chair and looked at the stars. “I’ve missed Kit terribly.”

  “You’re close then?”

  Christopher was amused by the surprise in her voice. “Extremely. When we were lads, we made a pact that even though I was the rightful heir, we would manage Ravenleigh together.”

  “He’s probably changed considerably from what you remember since he’s been here.”

  He chuckled low. “Undoubtedly, yet I know that the moment I see him, it will be as though we visited yesterday.”

  The night unfolded before them, the conversation enlightening. She told him about her marriage, Texas , cotton farming. And he explained what he could of his life. But he relished most the moments of silence for he never had the feeling that they needed to be filled. They simply existed, to be enjoyed.

  He watched the blackened sky turn a dark gray, pastel shades of blue weaving their way through to create an incredible tapestry. “What’s happening there?” he asked.

  She laughed lightly. “That’s the dawn. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen the dawn.”

  “The dawn?” He shot out of the rocker. “I’ve been here all night?”

  “That’s all right. I enjoyed the company.”

  “But your reputation!”

  “I’m a widow. I’ve got no reputation to worry about.”

  “Still, a gentleman would have left long ago.” He backed up and stumbled down the steps. “I apologize profusely—”

  “If you apologize profusely to me one more time, I’m gonna knock you upside the head with my cast-iron skillet.”

  He stared at her, then began to laugh. “By God, you would, wouldn’t you?”

  She rose from the chair, walked to the edge of the porch, and wrapped her arms around the beam. “Yep. No two ways about it.”

  Briefly, he considered stepping back onto the porch and kissing her. ” Elizabeth , thank you for inviting me over. It has been a very long time since I’ve enjoyed the sum of an evening so much.”

  She smiled softly. “I’ll be cooking supper again tonight. You’re welcome to join us.”

  He’d never before regretted with such magnitude the words he knew he needed to speak. “I think it would be best if I didn’t. You see, I’m betrothed.”

  “Do you love her?”

  Her frank question caught him off-guard. If he hadn’t grown fond of her through the night, he would have told her the answer was none of her concern. “No, but our marriage will help strengthen both families.”

  “Doesn’t sound like you’ll be doing much sitting on the porch watching the sunset.”

  “Ravenleigh has no porch.”

  “Reckon that’s for the best.”

  “Perhaps. Regardless, I thank you for a wonderful evening, night, and dawn. I shall remember them always.”

  “Just a little Texas hospitality.”

  He gave a curt nod before walking toward the buggy he’d hired. Duty called, and it was a harsh taskmaster.

  *

  CHAPTER 20

  « ^ »

  K it scrounged through the wreckage of the overturned stagecoach. Finding it had not been as difficult as he’d feared. Although Ashton had taken care in covering their tracks as she’d managed their escape, she’d also noted landmarks along the way.

  She was truly remarkable.

  And obviously disgusted by his confession.

  He’d considered denying the truth, blaming his words on a confused mind, but she deserved his honesty. He’d hoped for absolution, but he was not surprised by the revulsion reflected in her lovely eyes. His image in the mirror often carried the same expression.

  In truth, the confession was a blessing because the temptation to break his personal vow had never been greater than it was yesterday morning. He’d wanted to lay her down on the sweet green earth and bury himself so deeply within her that they would never again be separate.

  Now, his vow would never again be tested. Once they made their way back to Fortune, she would return to Dallas and the wait for death while he had already returned to hell.

  “Where are the driver and the man who was inside the stagecoach with us? They were killed, but I didn’t have time to bury them,” she said in a dazed voice as she gazed around.

  His first thought was that animals had probably carted the corpses away, but he had no heart to tell her that. “Many of our personal effects are missing. Someone has been here. They no doubt gave them a decent burial.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Walk, I suppose. If we head back in the direction whence we came, we should come to that last small town where the driver stopped to change horses. If there’s no stagecoach going to Fortune, we should be able to rent a carriage.”

  “I can get passage there for a stagecoach going to Dallas .”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You could, but I’ll not have you traveling alone.”

  She angled her chin defiantly. “I’m a grown woman.”

  “You are also my wife, and I shall not leave you unprotected.”

  “I could send a telegram to David—”

  “The passage of time has no doubt brought him a child by now. Besides, it defeats my purpose in not taking you to Dallas right away, if I have to wait for David’s arrival.”

  She began to pace in agitation, her hands balled into fists at her side. “You don’t have to wait—”

  “Ashton, regardless of the low depths to which your opinion of me has plunged, I am not going to take your life. You are safe with me.”

  She spun around, tears welling within her eyes. “Why did you kill Clarisse?”

  “Because I could not bear to watch her suffer.”

  “Who gave you the right?”

  “I gave it to myself. I alone carry the burden of the decision.”

  She studied him as though she wanted to see into his sordid soul. “How did you kill her?”

  He rolled his eyes toward the heavens. “What possible difference can that knowledge make toward what you now feel for me?”

  “I just want to know.” Her voice carried a slight quiver.

  He sighed deeply, fisted his hands into tight balls, and glared at the leaves in the trees. “She was in pain. She asked for something to relieve it. A pinch of powder, the physician instructed me. I used an abundance.” He returned his gaze to hers, afraid she’d recoil if he reached out to touch the deep furrows within her brow. “She wanted the pain to end. It was the one wish I could grant her.”

  “The one wish you could grant her,” she rasped, horror reflected in her gaze. “The night you proposed you told me that you’d been able to grant her only one wish. That was it? Death?”

  Anger surged through him at his own inadequacies. “Do you not think that I wish that I could have granted her something else? But of the many things she wanted, death was all that remained within my power to give her.”

  “I thought love made you send flowers to her grave every day. But it’s guilt, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “It’s impossible to separate one from the other when you murder the object of your affection.”

  She stared at him as though he’d grown horns and a tail. No doubt he would, once death held him within its grip and he truly plunged into hell.

  “If you had it to do over,” she asked hesitantly, “would you kill her?”

  “Yes.”

  She simply nodded as though she’d expected his answer, but was still disappointed by it. “I suppose we need to begin our final journey together,” she said.

  He was about to agree when he heard a low neigh. He spun around as his horse plodded toward him. “Lancelot, you beautiful beast. I’ve never been more glad to see you!”

  Reaching out, he rubbed the horse’s neck, welcoming the contact, warmth, and absence of rejection. At least the beast could not understand the gravity of his master’s actions. Kit wasn’t certain he c
ould accept any more condemnation. The sooner they began the journey, the more quickly he could see his wife safely returned to her brother.

  Unfortunately whoever had visited the overturned stagecoach had taken his saddle. With reluctance, he turned to Ashton. “Come on.”

  She cautiously approached.

  “It’ll be just like when we rode him bareback along the shore,” he assured her.

  But as he placed his hands on her waist and felt her stiffen, he knew it would be nothing at all like it. Before, she had relished his touch. Now she loathed it.

  Last night in the cave, they had slept closely together but never touched. Not once.

  He swung her onto the horse’s back. “Hold onto his mane,” he ordered.

  He grabbed what remained of the rope that had held the animal tethered to the stagecoach. He was grateful that he had shot the rope so it was short enough not to get tangled in the brush. He would have hated knowing Lancelot had perished because of his actions. He began to walk along the side of the road.

  “Aren’t you going to ride with me?” Ashton asked.

  “No, I doubt the horse has had proper nourishment since our encounter with the outlaws. He’s too weak to carry us both.” He was certain some truth resided within the lie, but the absolute truth resided within his heart. He could not tolerate being near her knowing that she not only despised his touch but hated him for being the man he was.

  *

  “We’ll stay here for the night,” Kit said as he brought the horse to a halt.

  Ashton glanced around the clearing. “Shouldn’t we have reached that small town by now?”

  Looking up at her, he held her gaze. “I’ve decided to avoid towns until we reach Fortune.”

  Irrational fear gripped her. “I’m not going to tell anyone you killed Clarisse.”

  Disappointment mingled with sadness filled his eyes. “That was not the reason behind my decision. I know it will make for a more arduous journey, but I have concerns regarding Jasper. Although he isn’t a bright fellow, if he thinks I’m still alive, he may have his men stationed along the route. If he thinks I’m dead, then he may be off planning his next stagecoach robbery. Or he may at this very moment be riding into Fortune. But since I don’t know exactly where he is, I prefer to ensure that if we do meet, it will be on my terms.” He held up his arms. “Come along. Let me help you dismount.”