The Texan

by Carolyn Davidson

“I have to earn my keep,” Honey told him, her chin jutting forward. “I can’t let everyone else pitch in and not do my share.”

  Augusta sent her brother a measuring look. “I think we’re taking good care of Honey,” she said bluntly. “She managed before you arrived, and I’m sure she’ll be just fine when you leave.”

  “You kickin’ me out?” he asked, his gaze swerving in her direction. His jaw was clenched, his mouth grim, and Augusta found herself wishing she’d stayed home with Cleary where she belonged this morning. Arguing with her brother was the last thing she wanted to do today. Not when her heart yearned to hug him and assure him of her love and concern.

  “No, I’m not sending you on your way,” she said, firming her voice with an effort. “I’m just telling you not to give Honey any false hopes.”

  “If she’s got any hopes where I’m concerned, they’re not false,” he said quietly, stepping closer to the vulnerable young woman who seemed on the verge of shedding a bucket of tears. His arm across her back earned him a tremulous smile as Honey nestled close to his side.

  “I’m planning on marrying her, sis,” Wilson said firmly. “No one has to know I’m here, except for the preacher. And if you don’t believe I’m ready to stand behind my promise to her, you can go fetch him right now.”

  “And when you run from here, will you take her with you?” Augusta heard her own words with disbelief. That she would speak to her brother in such a way was beyond her comprehension. And yet, he’d turned her world awry during the past weeks, and somewhere she’d found her loyalties shifting in another direction.

  “I’ll do whatever I have to, in order to spend the rest of my life with Honey.”

  From the entryway, where the front door stood open wide, a voice spoke, its rough, harsh tones causing Augusta to spin in a half circle, her hand covering her mouth. “Seems to me you’d better start listening to your sister, Gus.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Wilson said, his eyes narrowing.

  “I’ve been sorry for the past year for using Gussie’s name in such a way. I had no right.”

  “Are you ready to straighten up and be a law-abiding citizen? Ready to get a job and earn your keep honestly?” Cleary threw his queries at the young man relentlessly, hands on his hips, his gun bound to his thigh with a leather thong, his clothing dark, his visage sinister.

  Augusta shrank from the knowledge that the image he presented at this moment was no doubt the real person behind the facade of caring he’d offered her when she’d pledged him her loyalty and obedience. This was Cleary, the lawman, the U.S. Marshal, the seeker of vengeance on the behalf of those he’d worked for back in Wyoming.

  “I said I’d do anything to have Honey in my life,” Wilson told him. “I can rope a steer or ride a bronc. I’m a good cowhand.”

  “What else are you fit for?” Cleary’s words were sharp, his gaze assessing as he faced the young man. “What do you know about business?”

  “If you’re asking me whether or not I’ve been to college, the answer is no. If you want to know if I’m smart and capable of learning, then I’ll be glad to work at anything you’ve got in mind to prove myself.”

  “All right, son.” His reply was quick, as if he’d only waited for Wilson to offer his compliance. “I want you to take the chore of keeping records for this house off Augusta’s shoulders,” Cleary said. “I want you to figure out a way for the ladies here to earn enough money to support themselves. They’re already making progress, but a man can help them more than the most competent woman in the world. And Gussie is backing off from her responsibility, a little bit at a time.”

  “I can do my job,” Augusta said staunchly. “What if the law comes after Wilson?”

  “There’s not going to be anyone on his doorstep this week. I’ll almost guarantee that,” Cleary drawled. “This may be the only chance he’s ever going to get, as far as I’m concerned, Augusta. I’d like to see just how well he can handle responsibility. This seems like a good place to start, wouldn’t you say?” His eyes were dark, holding old secrets in their depths as he turned them in her direction. The firm tone he offered gave her no choice but to agree, at least for now. She would not argue in front of an audience, and well he knew it.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked sharply, suddenly aware that his appearance at the front door was not a part of his plan for today. “I thought you were going to ride your horse this morning.”

  “I was…I am,” he said. “Just as soon as I have a talk with your brother.” He motioned toward the back of the house. “Join me in the yard, son.” He glanced back at Augusta. “Don’t go far. I want to talk to you, too.”

  She watched as he steered Wilson across the kitchen and out the back door. Something was going on, something beneath the surface. Cleary was not acting himself.

  “He’s pretty upset, ma’am,” Honey said quietly. “I hope he doesn’t send Wilson away, Miss Augusta.” Her eyes filled with a renewal of tears. “I sure do love your brother. And finding someone willing to take me on—” Honey broke off, wringing her hands as if all hope had fled.

  “Cleary isn’t mean,” Augusta said quickly, hoping to reassure the girl. “He’ll do whatever’s best for all of us. And if that includes bringing Wilson up to snuff, then that’s exactly what will happen.” And if that didn’t work, then Wilson might as well wave goodbye, she thought sadly.

  “I hope you’re not mad at me, Miss Augusta.” Honey’s hankie mopped at her tears and she blew her nose with a lusty sound. “I wasn’t trying to go behind your back when I took up with your brother. He was kind to me, and he hasn’t taken advantage of me.” She halted as if she considered those words. “Not that he probably wouldn’t like to,” she said quietly, as if she must be painfully honest.

  “He’ll treat you like a lady, Honey,” Augusta said firmly. “And you’ll expect that sort of treatment from him. I hope I’ve taught you that much.” She held the girl’s shoulders in her hands and then sighed, stepping closer to hug her tightly.

  “Wilson is a good person, deep down. He’s made some mistakes in his life, but if Cleary can get him on the right track, and if the law doesn’t catch up with him first, he’ll be a fine husband for you.”

  The words began as a soothing panacea to Honey’s turmoil, but to Augusta’s amazement, she recognized them as the truth, and her heart felt lighter. Through the back door, she caught a glimpse of Cleary and Wilson, heads together as they stood near the doghouse, Henry begging attention at their feet.

  Something was going on this morning. Her instincts were raging. His wound nicely healed, she’d lay odds that Cleary was about to head for parts unknown once more. And her heart sank as she considered what that might mean.

  It was late in the day when a knock sounded at Cleary’s front door, and Augusta hastened to answer the summons. Cleary stood before her on the porch, and Augusta thought sadly that this was where it had all begun, on the day she’d come to solicit donations for the shelter. This time she faced him from the front hallway, Cleary on the threshold, awaiting entry. If he gave recognition to their meeting in a way reminiscent of that day, his demeanor showed little sign of it.

  “Can I come in?” he asked, as if unwilling to remove her from his path. “I didn’t think I’d need to knock on my own front door, Gussie.”

  “I had it locked for safekeeping while I was in the house alone,” she explained, though even to her own ears the reasoning was flawed. No one in Collins Creek locked their doors during the day. Indeed, most of them didn’t bother at nighttime, either.

  But she’d known that Cleary would show up before the day was over, known he would be looking for her after her sneaky departure from the shelter earlier today. And she didn’t want to be caught unaware by his arrival.

  “You were hiding from me.” He looked at her, his gaze noting her stance, her hands folded at her waist, her chin held high. “Do I frighten you?”

  For a moment she thought to answer with a nod,
then honesty prevailed, and she shook her head, a brief, single movement. “Only the man you become on occasion frightens me, Cleary.”

  He nodded in understanding. “Ah…the difference between Cleary and Jonathan, I assume.” His smile was crooked, its warmth questionable. “Will we never get past this, Gussie?” His own arms were folded now over his broad chest, and she thought the gesture was only a symbol of the gap between them today.

  Her shrug was diffident and her gaze dropped from his face to touch those wide shoulders, the long, muscular arms and well-formed hands. The hands that touched with gentle care and a tenderness past imagining.

  Somehow the image of Jonathan and Cleary could not be joined in her mind today. Today he was Cleary, the lawman, and she must hold herself apart from him, lest she be hurt beyond repair should something happen to take him from her life. Already her heart ached as she waited for his words of farewell. They were not long in coming.

  “I ran into Nicholas on my way to the livery stable to get my horse,” he said quietly. “I’m afraid I’ll need to leave for a few days.”

  “You knew that when you came to the shelter earlier, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “I didn’t want to talk about it in front of the rest of them.”

  She was silent, her stomach churning with despair. So easily he bade her goodbye, without care or concern for her well-being or whereabouts during his absence. And then he shattered that concept with a short, succinct reminder.

  “I’ll expect you here when I return, Gussie. I’ve put Wilson in charge at your shelter, and Pearl knows what to do in an emergency, though I doubt one will arise. You have everything in good order there. It only needs supervision.”

  “You expect me to remain in this house for an unknown amount of time, while you trot around the countryside, doing whatever it is you do? And I’m not supposed to ask questions, or wonder where you are or what’s happening to you?” She was amazed at her reasonable tone, her firm words and her ability to remain dry-eyed in front of the man.

  Her gaze sought his face, noting the thinning of his lips, the narrowing of his eyes and the faintly ruddy hue of his cheekbones as he considered her queries. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I guess that’s exactly what I expect of you. Is it too much to ask?”

  With those words he hung her high on the fence of indecision, and she grasped for a handhold, seeking a reply, sensing a deep, gaping hole on either side of her. If she was biddable, as a good wife should be, she would forever give up what small shred of independence she’d managed to retain in this marriage. If she defied his edict, she might forevermore wonder what her marriage could have been, for surely her blatant disobedience would cast her into the role of a woman who had dishonored her marriage vows.

  And so she sought the middle ground. “I don’t know, Cleary. Maybe I’ll have to think about it.”

  “You promised to obey,” he reminded her, his eyes glittering with intent. He stepped closer and she was forced to retreat, backing into the hallway. He followed her, one foot lifting to close the big door behind himself. His arms circled her and she was drawn against his body, its hard lines ungiving against her tender flesh. Her breasts were mashed against his chest, her thighs enclosed by his as he widened his stance and lowered his hand to her hips.

  Wide lips enclosed hers, seeking to dominate, and she was acquiescent, aware that she could not win such a battle of wills. He was stronger, and his anger rose like a red tide between them. His hands measured her waist, and as she shifted to remain clear of the pulsing arousal he’d managed to wedge between her thighs, he slid those broad palms down to clutch at her bottom.

  Passion rose to claim her, and for a moment her lips gave way to his demand, opening to accept the movement of tongue and teeth. Then she shivered and turned her head aside, gasping for a breath. She could not allow this.

  Bending his head, his voice was raw against her throat. “Gussie. Don’t turn me away.”

  She closed her eyes to his appeal, her heart to his plea, and her answer was chilled by the ice that settled to encase her heart. “You promised to cherish me, Cleary. Is that what you call this?”

  “This?” he asked, rubbing the thick ridge of his manhood against her. “I’ll do more than cherish you, sweetheart, and well you know it. I’ll give you a memory to hold while I’m gone.”

  “Don’t be obtuse,” she said sharply, pushing him away, catching him off guard. “I love you, but I won’t be treated like a village idiot. I’m a woman, not a creature you can cajole into bed whenever it pleases you. Keeping me a prisoner inside this house may have worked during the last several weeks, while you were in residence, but short of tying me to the bedpost, you’ll not keep me here while you’re gone this time.”

  “I didn’t consider you a prisoner. I thought of you as my wife, the woman I love. And if you choose not to do as I ask, there is little I can do about it.” he said quietly, his hands hanging by his sides, fingers held tightly inside fists that could inflict dire bodily harm, should he so choose.

  She eyed them a moment and lifted her gaze to his. “You look frustrated.”

  “With good cause, don’t you think?”

  “I think you’d like to take a swing at me, Cleary.” Her chin tilted upward as if offering a target for his consideration.

  He felt a pang at this evidence of her mistrust. “Have I ever hurt you, Augusta?”

  She considered her aching heart, wondering if that qualified according to his criteria. And then she shook her head. “No, of course not. I’m sorry. I know better.”

  “I can only tell you that I’d rather you stayed here at night, so I’ll know where to find you, or so Nicholas can reach you, should he need to. He won’t want to call on you at the shelter if there should be news that would distress you.”

  And then he grinned with just a trace of his old arrogance. “Not that it would bother you overmuch should I not return. In fact, it would probably solve a couple of problems for you.”

  “Don’t say that,” she whispered, seeking in those dark eyes a trace of the love he’d pledged to her. “You know better.”

  “Do I?” His grin was crooked now, and she caught a glimpse of sadness, a tightening of his jaw and a flexing of those long fingers. “I want to tell you something. I’ve done what I could for your brother. I can only hope my actions will bear fruit on his behalf. And as for you, I’ve tried to treat you fairly, Gussie. I’ve given you more than I ever thought I could.”

  “I—”

  “Hush,” he said, placing his hand over her lips to halt her words. “Not in monetary things, I know that, but by putting you first in my life, almost neglecting my work in order to put our marriage on a firm basis.” He looked down at her and his hand slid from her mouth.

  “I can’t do that today. I told you before that there’s a cleanup operation to be handled, and I’m the only one who can tend to it. Nick may be out of town next week, and you’ll be on your own when that happens. I just thought you ought to know.” His smile was tinged with a remnant of desire as his hand touched her face, a gesture she knew was meant as a farewell of sorts.

  She felt a pang of regret that she’d turned him away, and yet, she could not allow her heart to forever dictate her responses. There must be a compromise, a middle ground she could hold. Her hands lifted to his chest. “Will you kiss me goodbye?” she asked, her fingers clenching in the fabric of his shirt.

  “Hell, yes.” He bent his head and she offered the warmth of her mouth to him, opening to the thrust of his tongue, the biting edges of his teeth that touched her lips and then moved to her throat. His big hand moved her bodice to the side, sliding two buttons undone in order to attain his goal. He murmured words against the tender flesh of her neck, opening his lips to suckle the skin, then moving up to nuzzle beneath her ear.

  She inhaled deeply, holding his scent as a memory against the coming days. The dark, forbidden aroma of Cleary, the masculine, seductive smell of Jonathan, and the sharp,
acrid wisp of gun oil that rose from his holstered pistol.

  His fingers closed the buttons at her throat and his hands cradled her face as he bent to bestow a last, almost chaste, touch of his mouth on her lips. “I’ll be back.”

  And then he was gone, the door opening and closing soundlessly behind him. Augusta’s hands rose to her face and she dropped to the floor, bending her head to touch her knees, her fingers already damp with the tears she shed.

  His horse broke into a sharp trot as Cleary headed for the edge of town. His bedroll tied behind the saddle and his rifle secure in its sheath, he was as ready as he’d ever be to face the culmination of this operation. The last, he hoped, as an undercover man for the government. The men involved would be in one place, readying themselves for this, the largest shipment of gold yet.

  That those who had plotted and planned their downfall were aware of his movements would hopefully not occur to the gang. Cleary was certain he’d infiltrated the group with sufficient skill that they would not suspect him of being anyone but who he pretended to be. He was a renegade, a former lawman, a money-hungry gunslinger, all of which were not so far from the truth that he couldn’t substantiate his claim. Even Wilson’s appearance in Collins Creek had not done damage to this operation, and for that Cleary was most thankful.

  No matter what happened, Nicholas was sworn to pull the necessary strings to get the boy a full pardon, and Cleary had instructed the banker to call in all the markers he had available to accomplish the deed. At least, should he not return, Augusta would be left with one fond memory of him.

  His lips tightened at that thought. It would not do to allow her image to intrude over the next few days. It would take every bit of his concentration to accomplish this task, and for now Gussie was safe, secure in his home and his bed.

  The hotel room he found was a long way from a bedroll beneath a tree, and even the sounds of revelry from outside his window could not keep Cleary awake as he drew the sheet up to his waist. The thought of Gussie alone in his bed in Collins Creek entered his mind and he doggedly erased it, his long training allowing him to concentrate solely on the work that was ahead.