Texas Glory

by Lorraine Heath

  “Hello, Rawley Cooper.”

  She had the sweetest voice. He wished he had a hat so he could tip it at her like he’d seen some men do yesterday.

  She knelt in front of him. She smelled like she’d brought a whole passel of flowers with her, but he couldn’t see that she was holding or wearing any. She took the prairie dog out of his arms. “How’s Precious?” “Fine.”

  Her smile grew. “I appreciate your watching her for me.”

  He wanted her to hug him the way she was hugging the prairie dog, but he knew she wouldn’t, knew no one ever would. He backed up a step. “I gotta go.”

  As fast as his legs would churn, he ran toward the buildings where he could hide in the shadows.

  Sitting in a rocking chair on the veranda, Cordelia closed her eyes and listened as the music circled her on the wind. The crescendo rose, grew bolder, louder until she could envision a man galloping across the plains, dust billowing up behind him …

  “Dallas,” she said softly and peered through one eye at Austin.

  Smiling broadly, he stilled the bow. “Yep.”

  She closed her eye. “Give me another one.”

  Dallas had escorted her home and then gone to check on his herd. Austin had joined her on the veranda, the violin tucked beneath his chin as he played tunes of his own creation, melodies that he based on the characteristics of people whom he knew.

  She had guessed every song correctly so far—Houston, Amelia, Maggie, Dallas—but this melody was different. It carried no pattern. Strong for one moment, weak, weak, growing weaker with each note.

  She opened her eyes, jumped to her feet, rushed to the edge of the veranda, and waved at her brother as he approached. “Cameron!”

  “That’s right,” Austin said as he stopped playing.

  Cordelia jerked her head around. “What?”

  “That worthless song was Cameron.” He shot to his feet and turned toward the house.

  “Austin!” Cameron cried as he brought his horse to a halt and dismounted.

  Austin swung around. “What?”

  Cameron placed a foot on the step, then returned it to the dirt as though he wasn’t certain if he was welcome. His gaze darted to Dee, then back to Austin. “I know you’re angry.”

  “Damn right, I’m angry. When I can’t be with Becky, you’re supposed to take care of her for me. That’s what friends are for.”

  Cameron blushed beneath his hat. “She was dancing with my brother. How was I supposed to know—”

  “You should have known, that’s all. The minute he took her off to the shadows you should have known. She won’t be seventeen until next month. Duncan has to be on the far side of thirty—too old and too experienced for her.”

  Cordelia stepped cautiously across the porch. “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened,” Austin said, “because I stopped it.” He pointed his bow at Cameron. “And you can tell your sorry excuse for a brother that if he touches her again, I’ll kill him.”

  “Think he figured that out when you broke his nose.”

  “You broke Duncan’s nose?” Cordelia asked in shock.

  “I would have broken his whole face, but Becky stopped me.” Austin stalked into the house.

  Cameron plopped onto the step, planted his elbow onto his thigh and his chin against his fist. Cordelia sat beside him and took his hand.

  He turned his palm over and threaded his fingers through hers before looking at her with such a baleful expression that she nearly wept.

  “You ever wonder how our family came to be the way it is? Pa ain’t feeling poorly. He’s drunk most of the time. Boyd’s got so much hatred in him that he gets downright ugly for no reason. I think Duncan’s straddling a fence. He can’t decide whether to set out on his own or follow Boyd.”

  “What did he do last night?”

  “Took Becky out behind the general store and tried to force his affections on her. Austin was playing music for folks—” Cameron shook his head. “And I was a girl.”

  “A girl?”

  “Yeah, there ain’t enough girls around so we had to draw bandannas out of a hat. If we pulled a red one, we had to tie it around our sleeve and be the woman. I nearly got my boots danced off.”

  She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “Is that why you weren’t watching Becky? Too busy dancing?”

  “Maybe.”

  She rubbed the back of his hand, remembering the many times she’d done so as a child, wondering now when he had acquired the hand of a man. Even relaxed the veins bulged, the muscles appeared strong.

  “Are you happy, Dee?”

  Sighing, she closed her hand around his. “Yes, I am. Dallas is … fair.”

  He jerked his head back. “Fair?”

  “I don’t know if I can explain it. He never expects more of his men—of anyone—than he’s willing to give. He’s up before dawn, working, and he labors into the night. He talks to me, but more he listens. I don’t know if I’ve ever had anyone truly listen to what I had to say.”

  “Do you love him?”

  She shrugged and spoke as wistfully as her brother had only moments before. “Maybe.”

  She glanced up at the pounding hooves of an approaching rider. Dallas drew his horse to a halt beside Cameron’s.

  Cameron leapt off the steps. “I need to go,” he said, bussing a quick kiss across Dee’s cheek. “Can’t you stay for supper?” she asked.

  “No, I—”

  “Your sister wants you to stay,” Dallas said, his voice echoing over the veranda.

  Cameron nodded quickly. “Then I’ll stay.”

  “Doesn’t anyone in your family eat?” Dallas asked as he watched Cameron and Austin ride away from the ranch, heading for the saloon in town. The hostility between the two that he’d first noticed when they’d sat for dinner had abated during the meal. “Your damn prairie dog eats more than he does.”

  “He was just a little uncomfortable—”

  Dallas turned toward her and raised a dark brow.

  She dropped into the rocking chair and folded her hands in her lap. “You terrify him.”

  Dallas hitched a hip onto the railing. He needed a porch swing with a bench that wasn’t too wide so he could sit next to Dee and enjoy the evening breeze as night moved in. As soon as the cabinet maker set up shop, Dallas would order one, specially made with his new brand carved into the back.

  “Reckon you understand that feeling.”

  She smiled. “I also know what it is not to fear you.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. If she still feared him, maybe she wouldn’t have been so quick to kick him out of her bed.

  He liked the sight of her sitting on his veranda. It felt right, like the breeze that turned his windmill. The gentle wind that blew her little chimes.

  Reaching up, he touched the various lengths of barbed wire that Dee had strung together and hung from the eaves of the veranda, the eaves of the various balconies. They clinked in the wind. She had touched his life with an abundance of small gestures.

  “Walk with me,” he said.

  She rose and followed him down the steps. In companionable silence, they strolled toward the setting sun.

  He thought about taking her hand, but after last night, he wasn’t exactly sure where he stood, and it would gouge his pride if she didn’t welcome his touch.

  He had spent thirty-five years sleeping alone, and suddenly he desperately wanted something that he couldn’t even put a name to: the filling of an emptiness that he’d discovered within himself last night only after it had overflowed with contentment as he’d lain in her bed, holding her within his arms, listening to her soft breathing.

  He almost found himself hoping that he hadn’t given her a son.

  “I’m not carrying your son.”

  Dallas snapped his head up and looked across the table at his wife, her gaze locked on her cold eggs. Austin had left only a few moments before, leaving a heavy silence in his wake, a reticence shatt
ered by her words.

  “Are you sure?”

  She gave a brisk nod. “I knew several days ago. I just thought it would be better to wait until … until now to tell you.” Her gaze darted up, then down, and her cheeks flamed red.

  He stood and walked to her end of the table, a thousand sentiments thundering through his mind like stampeding cattle. He wanted to kneel beside her, take her hand, kiss her brow, her nose, her chin. He wanted her to look at him, but she just stared at the damn eggs so he spoke words that conveyed little of what he was feeling.

  “I’ll come to your bed this evening then, if that’s agreeable to you.”

  She nodded brusquely. “I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe we’ll have better luck tonight.”

  “I hope so.”

  With a purpose to his stride, Dallas stormed from the house, yanked Satan’s reins off the corral post, mounted the black stallion, and kicked him into a gallop. He rode fast and hard over the plains until his brother’s house came into view. The past ten days had been hell: wanting to hold Dee, knowing she had no interest in his touch.

  It was strange but he had to admit he wasn’t disappointed that Dee wasn’t yet carrying his son.

  He still desired a son, but the urgency of his dream had lessened. What he wanted now was a few more nights stretched out in Dee’s bed, with her nestled against him.

  Houston was working with a mustang in the corral when Dallas drew his horse to a halt at the house and dismounted.

  Amelia sat on the porch, churning butter. Maggie scrambled to her feet and ran down the steps. She squealed as Dallas lifted her toward the clouds.

  “I see freckles popping out,” he said.

  “No!” she cried as she rubbed her nose. “Kiss ’em off! Kiss ’em off!”

  He obliged her by quickly raining kisses over her face until she giggled. Lord, he loved her fragrance. She smelled of flowers dug from the earth, kittens, and sweet milk. Her innocence always humbled him.

  She crinkled her nose. “Did you git me a boy to play with?”

  “Not yet. I’m still working on it.”

  “Where’s he gonna come from?”

  Dallas jerked his gaze to Amelia. Shaking her head, she smiled.

  Dallas slipped a lemon drop out of his pocket and handed it to his niece. “Why don’t you go suck on this for a while?”

  “I don’t got a sad.”

  “I do and I need to talk to your ma about it.”

  He set Maggie on the porch. She plopped the candy into her mouth and began to suck vigorously. Dallas removed his hat, draped an arm over the porch railing, and studied Amelia. He thought she looked pale.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Just a little sick in the mornings, but it’ll pass.”

  “You gonna give Houston a son this time?”

  “He’s partial to daughters.”

  “It’s a wonder to me that the two of us are related.”

  “You and Houston are more alike than you think.”

  He shook his head. “With his skill with horses, he could have himself a thriving business. I’d never settle for less.”

  “It’s not a question of settling for less. It’s a matter of knowing what you want and finding contentment in that,” she said softly.

  “Do you have all you want?”

  “As a matter of fact, I think we do. Would you like to tell me about your sad?”

  “It’s not a sad really. I just said that for Maggie’s benefit.”

  Amelia angled her head as though she didn’t believe him. Damn the woman, she’d always seen and figured out too much. He turned his hat in his hands, studying it, searching for the right words.

  “Do you remember when we were married?” he asked.

  Amelia smiled warmly. “A woman isn’t likely to forget her first marriage.”

  “When I kissed you … did you like it?” he asked gruffly.

  She glanced up quickly as though the answer rested within the eaves of the porch before returning her gaze to his. “I thought it was nice.”

  “Nice? The weather is nice. A kiss should be—” He stopped abruptly at the flush racing up her cheeks. “What about when Houston kisses you?”

  Her blush deepened. “My toes curl.”

  “Is that why you chose him over me?” The words were spoken before he could take them back. Amelia had always had a way of making a man say what was on his mind. It had charmed and aggravated him at the same time.

  She rose to her feet, crossed the porch, and wrapped her hand around his. “When it comes to the heart, choice is seldom involved. I don’t know why I fell in love with Houston and not with you. I only know that I did.”

  “I don’t begrudge you that,” he said.

  She squeezed his hand. “I know you don’t.”

  “I just … damn.” He forced the bitter words past his tight throat. “I don’t know how to please Dee in bed … and I want to.”

  “That’s the first step, isn’t it? Wanting to please her?”

  “Apparently, it’s a damn little first step. What does Houston do when he kisses you?”

  “I don’t know. He just kisses me. Maybe you should ask him.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. Houston was slipping through the slats of the corral. Dallas had never in his life asked another man’s opinion on anything. It stuck in his craw that he was having to ask now—especially about something as intimate and personal as bedding his wife.

  “I appreciate your being honest with me,” he told Amelia.

  She patted his shoulder. “Go talk to Houston.”

  His stomach reeling worse than the blades of a windmill when the sucker rod had snapped in two, Dallas approached his brother.

  “What brings you out today?” Houston asked as he buttoned his shirt.

  Dallas shoved down his pride. “How do you kiss Amelia?”

  Houston’s fingers stilled over the last button, and he furrowed his brow. “What?”

  Dallas heaved a deep sigh of frustration. “Amelia says when you kiss her, you make her toes curl.”

  Houston’s mouth split into a distorted grin that moved one side of his face while leaving the scarred side immobile. “She said that, did she?” He peered around Dallas and looked in the direction of the porch where his wife had taken up churning butter again.

  Irritated, Dallas stepped in front of him. “Yeah, she said that. So how do you kiss her?”

  Houston shrugged. “I just sorta latch my mouth on to hers like there’s no tomorrow.”

  “That’s it? Don’t you do something special?”

  “Like what?”

  “If I knew I wouldn’t be asking!”

  Houston narrowed his eye. “I learned how to kiss watching you. How could you forget how to do it?”

  “I didn’t forget, but I only ever kissed whores except for Amelia.” He grimaced as her description of his kiss resounded through his head. “She says I kiss nice.” He stepped forward and crossed his arms over the top rail of the corral. “Nice, for God’s sake. I’m surprised Dee didn’t gag.”

  Houston eased up alongside him. “Maybe it has nothing to do with the way you kiss her. Maybe it has everything to do with what you’re feeling when you kiss her.”

  Dallas shifted his gaze to his brother. “What do you mean?”

  Houston rubbed the scarred side of his face, his fingers grazing his eye patch. “You’ll get angry if I tell you.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “Give me your word.”

  “You got it.”

  Houston released a deep breath. “The first time I kissed Amelia, we had just crossed that flooded river—”

  “You kissed her before you got to the ranch?”

  “You said you wouldn’t get angry.”

  “I’m not angry, I’m aggravated. I trusted you—” Dallas reined in his temper. Five years ago, he’d made a decision that had left him without a wife. He didn’t plan to repeat his mistake. “Finish y
our explanation.”

  Houston gave his throat a sound clearing as though contemplating the wisdom of his words. “Well … I was furious because she’d jumped into the river to save me, I was damn grateful she hadn’t drowned, and it hit me harder than a bucking mustang that I loved her. I couldn’t tell her so I tried to show her. I poured everything I felt into that kiss, and I’ve been kissing her that way ever since.”

  “And making her toes curl.”

  Houston smiled broadly. “Apparently so.”

  Dallas shoved himself away from the corral. “Thanks for the advice.”

  “Maybe in time, once your feelings for Dee deepen—”

  “That’s my problem, Houston. I think I’ve fallen in love with her and I’ve got no earthly idea how to make her love me.”

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  Dallas stood outside Dee’s room. He had decided that if he was only going to have one night with her each month, he was going to make the best of it.

  He wouldn’t leave her bed this time until dawn eased over the horizon, and if she didn’t want him to make love to her again, he’d content himself with simply holding her within his arms through the night.

  He knocked on the door and waited an eternity for her to open it. He stepped into the room and slammed the door.

  “You’re early,” she said as she drew the brush through her silken black hair.

  “Didn’t see any point in waiting.” He took her in his arms and latched his mouth onto hers like there was no tomorrow, wishing to God that there would be, that her toes would curl, and she would want him in her bed every night.

  Her brush clattered to the floor, and she wound her arms around his neck tighter than the noose on an escaping calf. She pressed her body flush against his, and her soles crept over his toes.

  He groaned, she moaned, and need rushed through him like a raging river. Holding her close with one hand, his mouth devouring hers, he used his other hand to release the buttons on her gown, hearing several clink as they hit the floor.

  He pulled down her gown and bathed in the glorious sight of her bared body as he yanked off his trousers. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down, then draped his body over hers, raining kisses over her face, her throat, her breasts.