Chapter Eleven

E verything. Everything was gone.

Amelia stared at the brown flowing river and wondered why they even bothered to look. Her letters from Dallas were gone. A miniature of her mother. She had brought everything that had ever meant anything to her—and now everything was gone.

Everything except the pocket watch she'd purchased for Dallas.

She fought back the tears welling in her eyes. She'd lost everything once before, and somehow she'd managed to survive. She would survive again.

She lifted her chin in defiance, daring the fates to toy with her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the sunlight glint through the mud. Lifting her skirts, she walked cautiously to the water's edge.

Her mirror, the mirror her mother had given her, caught and reflected the sunlight. Reaching down, she pulled it from the mud and washed it gently in the water. A sweet memory from the distant past.

She dried the mirror on her skirt, then held it up to gaze at her reflection. She was a mess. Her hair tangled, a bruise on her sun-tinged cheek, a button missing from her bodice. She stared harder at the mirror. In the background, a green cloud billowed in the breeze. She gazed over her shoulder and looked down the stream.

She trudged along the water's edge until she reached the green dress, the bodice wrapped tightly around the spindly branches of a bush, the skirt flapping in the wind. Amelia gathered the skirt close, buried her face in the smooth fabric, and let the tears fall.

And that was how Houston found her. Sitting in the mud with the water lapping at her feet, her knees drawn up, her face hidden by the abundance of green silk.

He wished he could have spared her this journey, could have just plucked her up and put her in Dallas's house without asking her to endure heartache, storms, and raging rivers.

He imagined sitting on the porch years from now with his nieces and nephews circled around him, telling them about the journey he'd made with their mother. A woman of courage, he'd call her.

And he hoped that no one would hear in his voice or see reflected in his gaze that he'd fallen in love with her.

He skidded down the muddy bank and caught his balance, stopping himself before he plunged into the river. He trudged through the mud and knelt beside her. "Amelia?"

She lifted her tear-streaked face. "This was the first dress I'd had in over ten years that didn't belong to someone else first. I was going to save it for the day I married Dallas." She crushed the skirt to her chest. "It's all caught up on the branches."

He knew well the feeling of wearing someone else's hand-me-downs. He had worn Dallas's discarded clothing until the war. The first piece of clothing he had worn that had been his and his alone had been the gray jacket his mother had sewn him so he could ride off with pride alongside his father and older brother.

Only he hadn't felt pride … only fear, a cold dread that had slithered through his bowels. A terror as unsettling as the one surrounding him now. He wanted this woman safe, safe within his brother's arms, where Houston couldn't touch her, where he couldn't drag her down into the hell that was his life.

He removed his knife. "I'll cut the branches, and you can take your time working the dress free. Maybe you can repair the damage."

He moved around her and began hacking at the limbs.

"I found my mother's mirror," she said quietly. She touched his brim. "You found your hat."

"Yep. Other than that, I haven't had much luck. The water's too strong. The current's too fast."

"Are we going to go back to John and Bern's?"

"Didn't see that they had much to spare. Think we'd just end up losing time and gaining very little."

"Then what will we do?"

He cut through the last branch and sheathed his knife. "We'll survive. We've still got everything I'd packed on Sorrel. It's not much, but it's enough. I've traveled with less."

She bundled up the green silk and rose. Houston shoved himself to his feet, removed his hat, and extended it toward her. "You'll need to wear this."

Her eyes widened. "But that's your hat."

"I know, but I can't find Austin's hat or your bonnet, and the sun will turn your pretty skin into leather. It can't hurt mine much." He grimaced as a tear trailed along her cheek. "Don't start crying on me."

"But I know what your hat means to you."

He almost told her that she meant more, but reined in the words that he had no right to voice aloud. "Then take good care of it because I'll want it back when we get to the ranch."

The cold winds whipped through the intimate camp. Amelia pulled the blanket more closely around her, tugged Houston's hat down so the brim protected her neck, and scooted closer to the fire. They had traveled most of the day, she on Sorrel, Houston straddled across a mule. They had Sorrel's blankets and the nearby brush to ward off the winds.

"Do you think it will snow?" she asked.

He glanced up. "No. Imagine in a day or so, it'll be warm again." "This isn't winter?"

He shook his head. She returned her gaze to the fire. She wished she had Dallas's letters. After all the times she'd read them, she should have had every word memorized, but she couldn't remember anything he'd written.

All she could remember was the way Houston's kiss had made her toes curl, the firmness of his body folded around hers last night, and the warmth of his breath fanning her cheek.

Would Dallas tuck her body protectively beneath his as they slept after they were married? Would he gently comb her hair back when he thought she was sleeping? Would he make her body grow as hot as the flames licking at the logs?

She rose to her feet, walked around the fire, and knelt beside Houston. "I've been thinking."

"Yeah, I figured that."

His words surprised her, although she supposed he was coming to know her as well as she was coming to know him. "How did you know?"

"You get this deep dent in the middle of your forehead."

"What else do you know about me?"

"That you're about to start asking me questions."

"Not exactly." She scooted a little closer to him. "You said you had needs—"

"I shouldn't have said that."

"Don't you have needs?"

"Yeah, I got needs, but I shouldn't tell a lady about them."

"Why not?"

"I just shouldn't, that's all.

" She gnawed on her lip. "So I shouldn't tell you I have needs, either?"

"No, you shouldn't."

Bringing the blanket more closely around her, she stared into the fire. She tried to imagine Dallas as she stared into the fire. She tried to imagine Dallas as she had envisioned him all those months, without a mustache and with blue eyes. She concentrated on the image she now had of him: brown eyes, a mustache. A woman's dream. A dream she couldn't yet touch … "I do have needs," she said quietly. She turned her head slightly and thought he looked terrified. "I was thinking about what you said … that any woman would do. I'm wondering if it's the same for me. If any man would satisfy what I'm feeling right now."

"What exactly are you feeling?"

"That I want to be kissed. If you want to be kissed, and any woman would do, why not kiss me? Then both our needs would go away, and maybe we could both go to sleep instead of sitting here staring at the fire."

"Id rather stare at the fire."

Pain shot through her as though he'd just sent a herd of his horses stampeding over her heart. His words shouldn't have hurt. He wasn't the man she was going to marry—

"Don't do that," he ordered. "Don't get those tears in your eyes."

She gave him her back, fighting the sorrow, the anger, and the hurt. "It's not fair. Until we crossed that river, I'd never been kissed." Surging to her feet, she turned on him like a wolf trapped in the wilderness. "It wasn't fair to give me these needs and then leave me to deal with them on my own. I've never felt like this … like I'll die if you don't kiss me."

She whipped around and marched into the darkness away from the fire, immediately regretting her foolishness, but having too much pride to return to the warmth and the light. Surely, Dallas would want to kiss her and satisfy her needs anytime she wanted.

A large hand cradled her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I made a fool of myself. I can't remember what Dallas wrote in his letters. I feel lost … just like all our belongings. And afraid. And—"

"He said he wasn't lonely." Gently, Houston turned her and nudged his hat up off her brow. The firelight crept over his shoulder and caressed the patch and scars while leaving his eye and unmarred cheek cast in darkness. Once, she would have wasted the moment trying to imagine him as he might have looked if he'd fought no battle. Now, she simply accepted the rugged features that war had carved into his face.

"He said a wife and sons would enrich his life." He glided his hand from her shoulder up to her cheek and tilted her face. "He asked you to become his wife."

"And I said yes, but surely a simple kiss …" Her voice trailed into silence as he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. Since the war, she had always feared the dark, and it seemed as though it had swallowed them both as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Leaning against him, she twined her arms around his neck, wanting him closer, relishing his warmth as it seeped into her.

He groaned deeply, and she felt the rumble of his chest against her breasts. He plowed his hand into her hair as his mouth plundered hers, his tongue probing, seeking, causing her toes to curl.

He slipped an arm beneath her knees and lifted her against his chest. She kissed his neck, his throat, his jaw as he carried her to the fire. She clutched his shirt as he laid her on the ground and fanned out the sides of his duster before stretching his body over hers and settling his mouth against hers.

She could hear the howling of the wind, the far-off cry of a wolf, and the beating of her own heart keeping pace with his. Needs swelled up within her, needs she'd never known existed. The hard, even lines of his body melded against her soft curves. Over the worn fabric of her bodice, he palmed her breast, kneading her flesh tenderly. She couldn't hold back the whimper that rose in her throat or the desire that exploded like fireworks on the Fourth of July. She arched her back, wanting, needing him closer than he was.

He dipped his head and trailed kisses along the column of her throat.

"It's not working," she rasped.

"I know." Lifting his head, he gazed down on her, brushing the stray strands of hair away from her cheeks.

"You knew it wouldn't work, that what I was proposing was silly—"

"Not silly." A wealth of tenderness filled his gaze. "Definitely not silly."

"I need more."

He brought her hand to his lips and placed a kiss in the heart of her palm. "It's not mine to give you."

"Will Dallas give me what I need?"

"And more. He'll give you the very best. Sporting women don't even charge him for the pleasure of his company."

"Do they charge you?"

"Double." He nibbled on her lips. "Remember that. You'll be getting the best when you marry Dallas. No need to settle for less before then."

He shifted his body and wrapped the duster around her. Then he reached for the blanket, draped it over her, and tucked her in close beside him. "Go to sleep now."

But she couldn't sleep. Unfulfilled desires ravaged her body. She watched the firelight play across his features, golden shadows, amber hues. His body held a tenseness that rivaled hers. How did he expect her to sleep when her toes were still curled, her skin tingled from his touch, and her breast ached for the feel of his palm? "It would have been better if Dallas had come for me."

"Yep."

She turned into him. "Rub my back like you did when I was sick."

He splayed his fingers over her back and began the lonely sojourn.

"What I feel when you kiss me—"

"It's lust, just lust," he interjected.

"That's why you said any woman would do."

"Yep."

She snuggled against him and concentrated on the motion of his hand, the small circles, the occasional sweeps. She imagined she was lying within Dallas's arms, wanting his warmth, his touch, and his even breathing surrounding her.

But when she drifted off to sleep, she dreamed of Houston.

Amelia awoke to the sound of thunder and groaned. "Not another storm."

"Not a storm, a stampede," Houston said, an urgency to his voice as he rolled away from her. "Get up."

She rose to her feet, the full moon playing hide-and-seek with the shadows. He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward a tree. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Need to get you off the ground. Grab that branch," he ordered as he swung her off the ground.

She did as he instructed and scrambled into the tree. "Aren't you coming?" she yelled as the thunder grew louder.

She didn't know if he heard her as he raced to the mules and freed them from their hobbles. Then he released his horse and started running back toward the tree.

Terror swept through her heart as the tree began to shake and the air reverberated around her. "Hurry!"

He lunged toward the tree, grabbed a branch, and swung to safety just as the herd reached the outskirts of their small camp.

Amelia tightened her hold on the tree limb as the horses rushed under her. The moon sheathed their backs in pale light, outlining their muscles as they bunched and stretched with their movements. Their manes whipped through the breeze. Their galloping hooves pounded the earth and stamped out the campfire. Their frantic neighs filled the night.

Amelia watched, mesmerized by their beauty, their singular purpose. The last horse shone the brightest, the color of the moon. It came to a staggering stop, raised on its hindquarters, threw its head back, and neighed defiantly before continuing on, following the herd.

When the thundering hooves fell into an eerie silence, Houston slid down the tree. He held up a hand and waited, as though testing the night. Amelia could sense the tenseness in his stance. Slowly, he reached for her. "Come on."

She eased down, and he wrapped his hands around her waist. She could feel the trembling in his fingers, feel her own body shaking. She collapsed against him and listened to the pounding of his heart.

"That was incredible," she said on an escaping breath.

"Yeah, it was," he said quietly as he led her back to the remains of their campfire.

She sat on the ground and watched as he worked to bring the fire back to life. "That last horse … I've never seen a horse the color of the moon," she said in awe.

"Palomino. That shade of coloring is called palomino."

"She was beautiful."

"He."

She scooted toward Houston. "He? How could you tell?"

"The pride in the way he held himself. And the fact that he was last. That was his band of mares."

"I always expected the stallion to be the fastest. He couldn't even keep up with the others."

Houston chuckled low. "He's fast. He was putting himself between the mares and danger. The first horse that came through would have been his favored mare. She's the fastest, strongest, probably the smartest of his brood."

As the fire began to crackle, he gazed into the darkness where the retreating mustangs had disappeared. She sensed a wistfulness about him, as though he wished he could have galloped along beside them.

The mules and Sorrel had moved out of harm's way. As they meandered back to camp, Houston secured them for the night. He was quiet, contemplative when he rejoined her by the fire, lay down beside her, and took her into his arms.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

His hold on her tightened. "The beauty of those mustangs."

"Who do you think they belong to?"

"The land. Right now, they just belong to the land. They're wild and they're free."

"Are you going to capture them?"

"Nah, I need to get you to Dallas." His voice reflected mourning, loss.

"Will you come back for them?"

"Might. Wild mustangs usually stay in the same area for a while."

"And if they move on before you get back here?"

He shrugged as much as he was able with her in his arms. "There'll be others."

She lifted up on an elbow and met his gaze. "You told me once that the wild ones are becoming rare, that's why you're breeding them. If I wasn't here, would you take the time to capture them?"

"If you weren't here, I wouldn't be here. I never would have left my place, never would have seen them, never would have known they existed … so I never would have had them anyway."

She smiled and touched his rough jaw. "But I am here, and you do know they exist. When you left the ranch for Fort Worth, did anything slow you down?"

He furrowed his brow. "No."

"And yet going back, we've had one mishap—"

He chuckled low. "Mishap?"

"All right. We've had one catastrophe after another. Maybe these horses are your destiny, are the reason this journey has been so difficult. They'll give you fine horses to raise. How can you leave without at least trying to capture them?"

She thought he might have shoved her aside if she wasn't wrapped so snugly within his duster.

"We've lost too much time already." He pressed her face into his shoulder. "Go to sleep."

"Then I'm grateful for every incident that slowed us down. Just seeing those magnificent horses was worth it. Don't you agree?"

Silence was his answer. She wondered if he'd wanted other things in his life, but had put his desires aside in favor of someone else's. A horse's whinny broke through the silence. Beneath her cheek, Houston's heart thudded rapidly.

"Do you think that's him?" she whispered.

"Yep."

"And you're going to let him go?"

"Amelia?" She heard the frustration in his voice. "It's not like I'll ride out and rope him and be done with it. Capturing mustangs the way I do is slow goin'."

She came back up on her elbow. "How do you capture them?"

He sighed deeply. "I become one of them."

A warm smile crept over her face. "I'd love to see that."

"Well, you're not gonna. I need to get you to Dallas. Now go to sleep."

She snuggled back against him. "What color did you say he was?"

"Palomino."

"And the first horse that ran through, his favorite mare was the same color, wasn't she?"

"Yep."

"And their manes looked silver in the moonlight."

"They were silver."

"They ran so incredibly fast. Have you ever seen horses run that fast?" He held his silence.

"I like the way he threw his head back—"

"You're aggravating, you know that? I'm trying to forget I ever saw them, and you won't stop talkin' about them."

"If you don't capture them while we're here, you might lose them forever." She rose back onto her elbow and cradled his unshaven cheek in her hand. "Sometimes, we only get one chance to realize our dreams."

He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her face immobile. "I don't deserve dreams," he growled through gritted teeth.

"Everyone deserves a dream. Dallas wants a son. Our staying here a couple of more days won't stop him from obtaining what he desires. Your dream is to raise horses. Don't let Dallas's dream overshadow yours. Yours is just as important. Those horses could be part of it." She placed her hand over his. He turned his palm, intertwined his fingers with hers, and brought the back of her hand to his lips.

"You don't know what you're asking," he said, his voice taut.

She heard the palomino stallion whinny in the far distance. "I'm pledged to your brother, but that doesn't mean I've closed my heart to other dreams. If I'm with you when you capture the horses, then I'll become part of your dream as well. And years from now, someone will ride a magnificent palomino horse because we dared to reach for the dream … and we'll be remembered."