Chapter Twelve

H ouston had never considered his desire to raise horses as a dream, but he supposed that it was. He always found a measure of peace when he worked with the mustangs, perhaps because he knew what it was to have one's spirit broken, to be beaten down, and to be left feeling worthless. As a result, he worked damn hard not to break the horse's spirit.

Some horses, like the black mustang Dallas had tried to break, simply couldn't be broken. They were too proud or just too ornery, much as his older brother was. He figured his father had recognized that stubborn trait in Dallas and realized that he couldn't be broken so he'd never tried to bend him to his will. He'd accepted him as he was.

Houston, though, had been another matter. He'd have gladly given his life if just once his father had looked at him with pride reflected in his eyes, but then he had to admit that he'd probably never given his father cause to feel pride toward him.

He glanced around the small boxed canyon. The mustangs could drink at the pond nestled in the corner and rest after the chase until he was ready to take them out. He wouldn't have enough rope to take them all, but he'd take the best. The stallion, his favored mare, and any others he thought would be worth his time. The remaining horses he'd let run free.

Wiping his brow, he watched the woman who wanted to be part of his dream, her fingers nimbly uncoiling a thick rope so he could wrap the individual strands around the tree limbs he had gathered. He didn't dare tell her that she was already in his dreams, those he had at night while he held her in his arms, those that would never become reality.

He would never wake up with her in his bed. He wouldn't grow old holding her hand. He would never see her eyes darken with passion. He would never tell her that he loved her.

He could only hope that Dallas's dreams would extend beyond wanting a son once he met Amelia. That he would cherish her as Houston wanted to.

He didn't think Dallas could avoid falling in love with Amelia. Her grit would appeal to his brother. Houston had dragged her through three weeks of hell, and she hadn't complained once. She'd make Dallas one hell of a wife.

Bending, he began to crisscross the sturdy limbs one over the other until they resembled a lengthy checkerboard. When Amelia finished her task, he would tie the branches tightly together at every juncture where they met to form a "T." The opening to the canyon was small enough that his makeshift gate would cover it. He'd secure one side of the gate to one side of the opening in such a way that Amelia could easily swing it across to block off the canyon once he'd brought the horses here.

He was probably insane to try and capture the horses with the few provisions he had and a woman at his side. Austin had been with him before when he'd captured wild mustangs, staying on the perimeter while Houston infiltrated the herd. He wouldn't have that luxury this time. He wouldn't leave Amelia to fend for herself, although he imagined she was capable of it, but time was running out. He'd only have her to himself for a little while longer … and then he wouldn't have her at all.

Dawn arrived. Amelia had slept little, the prospect of watching the horses race into the enclosure filling her with excitement.

Houston had doused the fire as soon as they'd finished eating breakfast. She watched him now as he readied the camp for his departure, her anticipation mounting. He placed a rope halter he'd fashioned on Sorrel. He dropped to the ground and removed his boots and socks before pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on top of his duster.

He turned to face her, and she balled her hands into fists to prevent them from reaching out to touch the hardened contours of his body. "How long do you think you'll be gone?"

"Not long. Today, I just need to find them." He walked across the small expanse separating them and took her hand. "We need to talk."

Her breath caught. At that moment, she needed a kiss. Lord, she needed a kiss. She fought to keep her gaze locked onto his, her hands from trailing along the scars on his shoulder and chest. She licked her lips.

"I want you to come with me, but I need you to understand what I'm asking. I'm leaving everything here but my revolver, my trousers, and a canteen. I want the mustangs to get used to my smell; the less I have, the less they have to get used to. I'll stay with them until they trust me enough to follow me. I'll sneak away at night to get food and water. I'll bed down where they do. If they take it into their heads to stampede … I'll do all I can to protect you, but it might not be enough." He released her hand and started to pace. "Hell, this was a stupid idea. I can't leave you and I can't take you with me. I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. If Dallas knew what I was thinking, he'd have my hide."

"I want to go."

He stopped pacing and stared at her. "This ain't no buggy ride."

She wrapped her arms around herself to keep the excitement from carrying her to the clouds. "We're going to ride with the herd? Become part of the herd? This is something I'll share with my grandchildren." She dropped to the ground and began to remove her shoes. He knelt beside her, placed her foot in his lap, and worked her shoe off.

"If something happens—"

"Nothing is going to happen." She hopped up and carefully placed her shoes alongside his boots; the action couldn't have felt more intimate if she'd done it in a bedroom that only the two of them shared. She whipped off his hat.

"Keep the hat on," he ordered.

She spun around. He had already mounted Sorrel. "We're not likely to find much shade."

She settled his hat back in place, grateful that he hadn't wanted her to leave it behind. She would have hated for a raccoon to cart it away.

"Climb on that rock," he said.

He eased the horse over and held out his hand. She slipped her hand into his, using his arm for support as she threw a leg over the horse's back and scrambled into place. She wrapped her arms around Houston's bare chest and pressed her face against his broad back.

The world seemed more beautiful than it had the day before; the leaves were just beginning to turn golden and a briskness to the air promised cooler weather would return. They rode in silence for several hours, Houston studying the ground and the terrain. She could have easily drifted off to sleep with him as her pillow. She wondered if Dallas's back would be this broad, this smooth, this warm.

Houston tensed beneath her cheek and drew the horse to a halt. "There they are."

Leaning to the side, she peered around him. The mustangs grazed in the open.

Houston prodded Sorrel forward. Amelia was certain the pounding of her heart would drive the horses away. They neared the herd. The stallion lifted his head, eyed them warily, released a shrieking neigh, and took off at a gallop. The mares rapidly caught up and passed him, his silver mane blowing in the wind, his tail lifted in the air.

Amelia wanted to weep. "They ran away."

Houston rounded his leg over his horse's head and slid to the ground. Reaching up, he placed his hands on her waist and brought her to the ground. "Expected them to, the first time. That's why I said I wouldn't be long today."

"Why didn't you chase after them?"

"They would have just run harder. This is their range; they'll come back. When they do, we'll be waiting."

"How long before they accept us?"

"Hard to say."

He slipped his arm around her, and in a gesture that seemed as natural as breathing, she leaned against him, waiting for the promise of his dream to return.

For several days, they found the herd, walked into its midst, and watched the horses scamper away, but each day the mustangs didn't run quite as far or quite as fast. On the fourth day, they didn't run.

Houston felt Amelia's arms tighten around him as he guided Sorrel into the middle of the herd. The palomino stallion eyed them warily, slowly approached, and sniffed Sorrel, sniffed Houston's leg. Houston thought he could feel Amelia holding her breath against his back. How he wished he could have turned around to watch her. He imagined her green eyes bright, her lips curved into a smile.

When the stallion had determined they were no threat, he shook his head, sending his long silver mane rippling over his neck, and sauntered away as though to say, "Do as you please."

Houston did just that. He wove his horse through the herd, studying each horse, judging its merit. He would capture them all, but he would keep only the best. He didn't have enough rope to tether them all on a lead.

The one thing he missed throughout the day was Amelia's questions. She held her silence, and he longed to hear her voice. He had a feeling his place was going to seem so much quieter for his having known her.

Amelia lost track of the days as they traveled with the mustangs. Their range covered a considerable distance, but she wouldn't have minded if they'd galloped forever toward the dawn. She loved the feel of the horse beneath her, the man before her when the herd sensed danger and ran. She loved the night sounds when the mustangs settled in around them. Houston would draw her close, and she'd sleep in his arms. Sometimes, they'd talk quietly about the horses, which ones they preferred. Or they would talk about the moments during the day when they hadn't spoken, but each had sensed the other's thoughts revolving around the same conclusions.

She knew before he told her that he preferred the stallion's lead mare over the others. She knew he would use her as the foundation of his own herd. She knew he would take care in breaking her.

And she knew in the hours before dawn when he quietly led Sorrel away from the herd and took her to the small box canyon that she'd fallen in love with him.

"I don't understand why I can't stay with you."

Cupping his hands, he brought the water from the small pond to his lips and gulped. "Because I'm gonna ride them hard, and I need someone to close the gate behind us once I lead them in here."

"What if they don't follow you?"

He stood and dried his hands on his trousers. "Then I'll have to chase them down and rope the ones we want. We've lost enough time as it is."

She wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't understand how you can view the past few days as losing anything. It was the most incredible experience of my life."

He ran his finger along her chin. "I didn't mean it that way, but you have someone waiting for you. I need to get you to him."

He strode to his horse and mounted. "Stay behind the brush until you hear me holler. Then start closing the gate. I'll get over to help you as soon as I can."

She sat on a boulder and waited. She watched the sun ease over the horizon and felt the loneliness sweep through her. Could a person love more than once in a lifetime, love more than one person this deeply, this strongly?

Dallas had answered her advertisement; she had given him her word that she would marry him. She had an obligation to fulfill, but she imagined years from now her children would circle her feet, and she'd tell them how she'd helped their uncle capture the beginning of his dream.

She heard the pounding hooves, felt the ground vibrate. She scampered behind the brush and waited. The herd came into view, thundering over the plains, their heads thrown back, their tails raised, their sleek muscles bunching and stretching as they rushed toward their destination.

Trailing behind, guiding them, keeping them on course rode Houston, low over his horse's back, the wind whipping his hair, the sweat glistening over his body. She thought if she lived to be a hundred, she'd never see anything more magnificent.

Breathing heavily, their coats shiny with exertion, the mustangs galloped into the small canyon, heading for the pond. She heard Houston call her name as he roared past.

She moved the brush aside and began pushing the gate of limbs and rope. Then he was beside her, shoving it into place as the horses milled within the canyon. He fastened it, grabbed her about the waist, and hauled her to the side. "Don't know if it'll hold them," he said as he released her.

The stallion was the first to notice that they were trapped. He reared up and rushed toward the gate of tree branches but stopped short of ramming against it. He trotted back and forth. Amelia could almost feel his anger.

"I have a feeling he's a horse you don't want to rile," she said.

"Yep." Houston dug through their belongings, located his shirt, and drew it over his head. "I could geld him. He wouldn't be so spirited then."

Amelia was appalled. "You won't, will you?"

"Nope. He wouldn't be much good to me then." He walked to the gate and held out his hand. The stallion snorted and trotted into the late-morning shadows.

"What now?" she asked.

"We'll give them a day to calm down, then we'll pick the ones we want and head out."

Amelia began to relish the approaching darkness, the coming of night. Houston never voiced his thoughts or feelings, but she thought he welcomed the night as much as she did.

They spoke seldom during the day, but at night, after they'd eaten, after he'd banked the fire and drawn her into his arms, they'd talk quietly about the past, the present, but never the future.

She came to know more about the man she was to marry in those quiet moments. Houston was more comfortable relating tales of his brother than tales of himself, but she loved best the moments when his story carried a portion of his life.

She learned that Dallas was the favored son, although Houston never came out and admitted it. From the warmth in his voice when he spoke of his mother, she knew that Houston had adored the woman who had fought to bring him into the world.

She hoarded the stories he told her like a miser might hoard gold, sifting through his words, searching for all the keys that unlocked the mysteries that were his.

Houston lost track of the number of days that they traveled, but every night when he gathered Amelia in his arms to sleep, he fought a battle with his conscience, trying to justify what he'd done. He could have taken her to the ranch and returned for the mustangs. He should have taken her to the ranch.

But dammit, he'd wanted her with him, to share the capture, to know the horses as he knew them, to be able to lay claim to a corner of his dream.

When he turned her over to Dallas, she'd begin to live her own dream, and he had no place in it.

He drew his mule to a halt. Amelia's mount stopped, along with the mustangs he had in tow. They'd settled on eight. One was a puny thing that he didn't think would ever amount to much, but the woman beside him was afraid it wouldn't survive on its own when they released the horses without the stallion and his favored mare to guide them. So he'd kept the gentle creature, knowing full well his world wasn't made for gentle things.

The shadows were lengthening but they had plenty of daylight left, too much daylight left. He veered his mount to the left, trusting everyone else to follow.

* * *

In awe, Amelia stared at the small spring. Three waterfalls, each no taller than a man, cascaded over the moss-covered rocks and through the brush, melting into the wide pond. The horses lapped at the clear water.

Beside her, Houston hunkered down, stirred up the water near the edge of the bank and dipped his palm beneath the surface. "It's colder than I expected it to be."

His voice reflected disappointment, and he glanced up at her. "Thought you might like a swim … but it's too cold."

She knelt beside him and flitted her fingers through the water. "When I was little, I used to run and hide when my mother told Dulce to get my bath ready. I thought it would be wonderful to never have to take a bath, to get as dirty as I wanted, and have no one care." She tugged on her bodice. "I have never felt so filthy in my whole life. I'm surprised you get as close to me as you do."

"I'm not too sweet smelling myself."

"I think the horses smell better than we do."

He nodded slowly. She lowered her hand into the water. "It's not too cold once you get used to it." Her gaze circled the pond. ‘Do you think there are snakes here?"

"I've never seen one, but let me scout around."

As he studied the perimeter of the pond, she removed her shoes, her fingers shaking with the thought of a snake digging his fangs into her again. She took a deep, calming breath, determined not to let her fears guide her life.

"Think you'll be safe. I'm gonna gather up some wood, then I'll get a fire goin'. You can wade in. Holler if you see anything."

He walked away. She didn't care how cold the water was. They'd been traveling for days with little more than shallow streams that wouldn't get her big toe wet. She wanted a warm bath in a big wooden tub, but she'd settle for this cold spring.

She'd placed his hat on a boulder and stripped down to her undergarments before she thought to glance over her shoulder. Houston was sitting back on his haunches before a pile of wood, staring at her. He scuttled around until he presented her with his back.

After all they'd been through, removing her clothes in front of him had seemed natural. She waded into the water and screeched.

Houston surged to his feet and raced across the clearing. Laughing, Amelia held up her hands. "No, it's just cold."

He skidded to a halt. "Don't go hollerin' like that. You made my heart stop beating."

Tensing, holding her breath, she sank beneath the water. She came up laughing and sputtering. "It's not so bad once you get used to it. Come join me."

He looked as though she'd just plowed her fist into his stomach. She glanced down. The white linen clung to her body, outlining her curves, shading the different facets of her body. She eased into the water, welcoming its chill. "Come join me," she repeated softly.

"Good Lord, woman, are you outta your mind?"

"Maybe I am, traveling across the country to marry a man I barely know. Traveling across Texas with a man I didn't know. You could have taken advantage of me and you didn't. I don't think you will now." She tilted her head to the side. "It feels nice to get the dust off."

Houston knew his body needed a cooling off … bad. He tossed his duster onto the ground and pulled his shirt over his head. He dropped down to remove his boots and socks. If his body didn't like the sight of her so much, he'd remove his trousers. As it was, he waded in, cringing as the cold seeped through his remaining clothing. "How long before I get used to it?" he said gruffly.

She laughed. Lord, he loved her laugh. He loved the sparkle in her eyes, the way her lips curved up.

She splashed water at him. He couldn't afford to play with her, afraid he'd wrap his arms around that slick body of hers, pull her against him, and never let go. Instead, he settled on the sandy bottom and leaned back on his elbows, allowing the cold water to lap around him, fighting a losing battle, trying not to notice how her white cotton was melting against her flesh.

She dropped her head back, her throat an arched column of ivory. He'd like to lay a dozen kisses from the tip of her chin to the base of her throat.

"Sometimes, I wish this journey would never end," she said, wistfully. She lowered her gaze and met his. "But it will, won't it?"

"Yeah, it will."

She slid through the water until she neared him. "And all I'll have are the memories of the time we shared," she said softly.

The molten heat flowed through him with her nearness. He was surprised the water surrounding him didn't steam. "We probably ought to get out now," he suggested as he started to rise.

She placed her hand on his bare shoulder, and he dropped back into the water. "Amelia—"

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," she said.

"You didn't embarrass me. It's just that every now and then we start heading down roads we shouldn't, and I just figured you were fixin' to get on one of those roads."

"Because I've enjoyed the time I've been with you?"

He nodded.

"That first day I met you, I expected this to be the longest trip of my life. I never thought I'd find myself hoarding moments with you as though they were gold." She pressed her finger to his lips before he could protest. "Do you know which moment was my favorite?"

He shook his head, held by the glow of her gaze.

"After we crossed the river on Sorrel, before you returned to the other side for the wagon … and you smiled."

He grimaced. "Woman, you must be part-near blind. If it looked anything close to what it felt like, it should have given you nightmares."

"I could pull out my mirror—"

"Nope." He sank deeper beneath the water. "I don't like mirrors."

"You're not scarred that badly."

"It's got nothing to do with my scars." And he'd be damned if he'd explain himself. Not this evening, not when their time together was drawing to a close.

She sighed heavily. "I'll admit that the left side didn't go up as high as the right side, but I still liked your smile." She touched her fingertip to the corner of his mouth. "Smile for me again."

He pressed his lips together.

She placed her thumbs on either side of his mouth and tugged up. He jerked back. "I can't smile if I'm thinkin' about it."

"Then don't think about it."

She scooted back, skimmed her hand over the top of the pond, and sprayed him.

"Don't do that," he ordered.

She smiled mischievously. "Why?" She splashed water on him again.

"Because I said, that's why."

"Oh, I'm scared," she teased as she spattered water at him again.

"You're gonna be, if you don't stop," he threatened.

She laughed then, laughed loud and clear, the melodious sound echoing around the falls. He'd probably never know what overcame him, but he lunged for her, grabbed her waist, and carried her under the water.

When he brought her back up, her arms and legs were wrapped around him. She tossed the hair out of her eyes and laughed. "I'm still not scared."

He couldn't help himself. He added his laughter to hers as it floated on the breeze. Deep and strong. The sound shook him, and he fell silent.

Amelia touched his cheek. "You've never laughed," she stated simply.

"Not as a man. Not that I can recall."

Tears welled in her eyes. "I find that incredibly sad."

He moved her aside and pushed himself to his feet. "Time to get out and get warm."

But he could still hear his laughter reverberating between the falls, and it was all he could do not to weep himself.

Wrapped in a blanket, Amelia huddled beside the crackling fire in her damp bodice and skirt. Her drenched undergarments were stretched over a rock to dry.

Night hovered around her. A million stars twinkled overhead. She could hear the waterfalls, the occasional splash of a fish, frogs croaking, and the silence of her traveling companion as he gazed into the fire, his brow furrowed. She wondered where his thoughts traveled tonight.

Based on the depths of his creases, she had a feeling he was traveling back toward a war that had catapulted him into adulthood, stolen a portion of his sight, his smiles, and his laughter.

"A penny for your thoughts," she said quietly.

He glanced at her. "They're not worth that much."

"They are to me."

A corner of his mouth crooked up, and the warmth raced through her. She'd given him that, small as it was, a halfhearted attempted at a smile that she hoped would one day brighten his life.

"Even when you aren't asking questions, you're asking questions," he said.

"You don't like questions."

"Don't mind the questions. It's answerin' 'em that I'm not fond of."

She eased closer to him. He'd long ago stopped shielding her from the sight of his face. She couldn't imagine him looking more perfect than he did at that moment. Nor could she imagine him asking her a question of his own free will. "Play a game with me."

"The checkerboard is at the bottom of the river."

"I know a game that doesn't require a board. A simple game, really. I used to play it with my sisters. The rules are easy. You decide if you want to truthfully answer a question or take a dare. I'll ask the questions or issue the dare." She smiled sweetly. "The question will be something you wouldn't want to answer; the dare something that frightens you."

Horror swept over his face. "You call that a game?"

She slapped his shoulder. "It's fun. We always ended up laughing. Do you want to answer a question or take a dare?"

"Neither. I'm goin' to sleep."

She placed her hand on his thigh, effectively halting his movements. "Humor me. I'll go first. Ask me a question."

"Why are you so partial to questions?"

"Oh, that's an easy one. It's the best way to find out information. Now do you want to answer a question or take a dare?"

He looked as though she'd just set his favorite horses free. "That wasn't hardly fair."

She fought the urge to squeal with the realization that he would indeed play. "You have to choose your questions carefully."

He narrowed his gaze. "I'll take a question."

"It'll probably be something you don't want to answer."

"I don't want to answer any of them."

"All right." She shifted her backside, planted her elbow on her thigh, her chin in her palm, and studied the scowling man, wondering what she could ask that would present a challenge but not scare him off. "When you cry out in your sleep, are you dreaming about the war?"

"A dream is something you want. No, I don't dream about the war." He looked toward the fire. "But it's there in my head when I sleep." He shifted his gaze back to her. "This sure ain't like any game I ever played."

"When was the last time you played a game … not counting checkers?"

"How many questions do you get?" She smiled. "You're right. Your turn. I'll take a question." "Anything?" "Anything."

Houston stretched out beside her and traced a finger in the dirt. He could ask her anything, and she'd answer it. Maybe she would have all along, but asking questions was as foreign to him as giving an apology had once been. He didn't want to parrot her, but he couldn't think of anything to ask. "Sometimes, you whimper in your sleep. What are you thinking about then?"

"My sisters … as they were the last time I saw them."

"I should have figured that."

"I don't dream about them as much since the storm, since I told you about them. And more often when I do dream about them, I see them as they were before the war … when we played games like this. It still hurts to think about them, but it's a different sort of hurt. A good hurt."

"That doesn't make any sense. What exactly is a good hurt?"

She held up a finger. "One question. Tell me the truth or take a dare."

"A dare, I reckon. I've answered enough questions."

She eased alongside him. "Kiss me as though I had no contract binding me to another."

"You don't want that."

"Afraid?"

Hell, yes, he was afraid. Afraid he'd forget that she was bound to his brother. Afraid he wouldn't find the strength to keep riding west in the morning. Afraid she'd touch the part of him that longed for softness until he couldn't ignore it. "Unbraid your hair," he rasped.

She sat up and draped the long braid over one shoulder. Nimbly her fingers worked the strands free. The firelight sent its red glow over her golden tresses, each strand seeming to have a life of its own as it curled over her shoulder, circled the curve of her breast, trailed down to her waist.

It was her game, her rules. He'd always been afraid not to follow the rules or to stray from the path. She ran her tongue over her lips, the innocent woman he knew turning into a temptress. Raised on an elbow, he threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her mouth down to his.

She released a sound, more of a mewl than a whimper, her lips parting slightly in invitation. He didn't have to be asked twice.

Rolling her over, he slipped his tongue into her mouth and relished the feel of heaven.

Amelia ignored the hard ground below her, and welcomed the firm man above her. His fevered kiss curled her toes as she rubbed her foot along his calf. Groaning, he slipped his knee between her thighs, and she arched up against him.

He tore his mouth from hers, his breathing labored as he laid his bristly cheek against hers. "Don't do that."

"Why?"

"Just don't," he rasped as he brought his mouth back to hers.

She thought his hot mouth might devour her, and she didn't care. She had embraced Dallas's dreams, but now she wanted more. She wanted love; she wanted to feel the sunrise in a kiss, the glow of a full moon in a touch, the warmth of the fire in a caress.

His questing mouth gentled, but his fingers tightened their hold.

"God, I want to touch you," he said in a husky voice as he trailed his mouth along the column of her throat.

"Then do."

He chuckled low. "Woman, you don't know what you're saying."

"But I know what I need. I need you to touch me."

Houston surged to his feet, stormed to the spring, and leaned against a rock. "You don't know anything. If I touch you the way I want, I'll destroy every dream you came here to find."

"We could build new dreams together."

He shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the hope in her voice. "You came here to start a new life. Dallas can give you that."

She sat up. "You could give me that."

"It's not my place. Dallas asked you, damn it. He built you a huge house and changed his brand. He can give you everything that I can't, everything you deserve … everything I'd want you to have. I can only give you rags, loneliness, and nightmares."

* * *

Amelia bundled up her damp clothes and stuffed them into a saddlebag. Dawn had been clear and should have filled her with joy, not despair. She had lain within Houston's arms, but he had somehow distanced himself from her. She wasn't even certain he'd slept.

He shook out the blanket, laid it over the fire, then quickly flicked it back. Black smoke spiraled into the air. He repeated his actions.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Letting Dallas know we're here."

Amelia's heart slammed against her ribs. "We're that close?"

He rose from his crouched position, crossed the small expanse of space separating them, and touched his rough palm to her cheek, holding her gaze. "We're that close."

"Last night was good-bye?"

"It was supposed to be. I couldn't think of the right words to use. You deserve prettier words than I can give you."

Reaching around her, he grabbed the canteens, walked to the spring, and began filling them.

As though she were ensconced in a dream, Amelia walked to the spring and knelt on his left side, her way of showing him that she didn't care if he was scarred, if he was imperfect. "I love you."

He continued his task as though she'd said nothing at all. Perhaps it was best. If he had acknowledged her feelings, she might have found it harder to honor the contract she'd signed.

"Houston?" She placed her hand on his arm.

He twisted around, meeting her gaze, his expression somber. She extended his hat toward him. "You'll want this back."

He took her offering, but didn't settle it onto his head. "Yeah, I reckon I will."

With a feather-light touch, she trailed her fingers around his patch. He went as still as stone. If he wouldn't accept her declaration of love, she'd give him something easier to accept, another version of the truth.

"When I began this journey, I cared for Dallas," she said quietly. "I still do. Only I've come to care for you more."

"That's because you've been with me for a while. Once you've spent some time with Dallas, your feelings will change back to what they were."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll take you back to Georgia."

She shook her head vigorously. "I don't want to go back to Georgia."

"Then give Dallas a chance."

"Do you care for me at all?"

He touched his knuckles to her cheek. "More than I have any right to."