Chapter Fifteen

A ustin returned late in the morning, while the breeze was still cool. Amelia wouldn't have minded spending the entire day with Houston, watching him work with the palomino mare, but she sensed that Austin was ready to move on.

As they rode back to the ranch, Amelia found herself intrigued by the young man riding beside her. Full of untamed energy, he had a restlessness about him. She supposed it had to do with youth. Something more exciting was always waiting just ahead, in the next mile, in the next moment.

Amelia drew her horse to a halt. "What in the world is that?"

Austin sidled up next to her. "What?"

She pointed toward the reddish-brown beast. Austin's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "It's a cow. Ain't you never seen a cow before?"

She shook her head. It looked nothing like the cows of Georgia or the ones she'd seen grazing at John and Beth's. "Not one like that. Those horns look dangerous."

"They are dangerous. From tip to tip, the horns can grow as long as some men are tall. Longhorns enjoy a good stampede, too. Dallas keeps his cattle spread out over the range so they're less likely to stampede. You wanna see Dallas at work?"

"You know where he is?"

"Sure. He's gathering his cattle down on the south end, marking 'em so they'll be ready come spring."

She realized too late that she should have sought out Dallas first thing that morning, instead of Houston. When she had begun this journey, her mind was filled with thoughts of Dallas. Somewhere along the way, Houston had taken his place. "I'd like to see him working."

"Come on, then."

They rode at a gallop with the breeze circling around them. She thought she might never understand how men could look out over the land and know exactly where they were. More cattle became visible, dotting the countryside.

Then she saw what she thought must have been a whole herd, a sea of brown and red. It didn't take her long to spot Dallas. He rode through the herd obviously with a purpose. She watched as he maneuvered his horse, maneuvered the calf away from the center of the herd.

"He rides well," Amelia said.

"Yep. He's got men to do that but every now and then, he does it himself." Austin removed his hat and waved it in the air.

When the calf broke through to freedom, another cowboy lassoed it. Dallas rode past the bawling calf and caught up with Austin and Amelia. "What are you doing out here?"

"Took Amelia out to see Houston. Discovered she didn't even know what a longhorn was so figured she ain't never seen a roundup. Thought I'd show her."

Dallas nodded and glanced over his shoulder. "They're smaller in the fall. Come spring, you can hardly see for the dust the cattle stir up."

"Houston said you had two thousand head of cattle."

He smiled. "At last count."

"I thought a ranch would feel like a plantation, have its grace and charm."

"You don't find the smell of burning cowhide and the ruckus of bawling cattle charmin'?"

She laughed lightly. "I find it fascinating, but nothing like what I'd expected. It's so big. I think it takes a special breed of men to tame it."

"That it does."

"Houston mentioned that you were that sort of man."

A blush swept down Dallas's face, disappearing behind the red bandanna he wore wrapped around his neck. "I'm having a hard time believing how much that man talked. Reckon I got some catching up to do."

A tinny sound filled the air. Amelia looked toward its source: the chuckwagon. With a metal bar, the cook was hitting a metal triangle.

"Are you hungry?" Dallas asked.

Amelia smiled. "As a matter of fact, I am."

"Austin, go fetch us a couple of plates."

As Austin rode to the chuckwagon, Dallas dismounted and helped Amelia off her horse. He removed his vest and set it on the ground. "It's not fancy, but it'll protect your skirt somewhat."

"Thank you," she said as she lowered herself to the ground.

"Think we're having beefsteak today," he said, dropping down beside her.

"I suppose when you raise cattle, you always have meat to eat."

"Yes, ma'am, we do."

She sighed, her mind suddenly blank. Asking questions of Houston had come so easily. She couldn't think of a single thing to ask the man she was going to marry.

"Do you—"

"I've never—"

She laughed, he smiled as their voices bumped into each other.

"Go ahead," he said. "No, you go first."

"All right." He yanked a spear of grass out of the ground and slipped it between his lips. "I was just gonna say that I've never had a girl before so you might need to prod me from time to time if you need or want things."

"You've never had a girl?"

He flung his arm in the direction of the cook. "No, ma'am. As you can see, my company is made up of men and cattle."

"But you've been to a brothel."

He sat straighter. "I beg your pardon?"

"Houston said that sporting women don't charge you, so I'd assumed you'd had a woman."

"I meant I've never had a steady girl." He leaned forward until she could see her reflection in the brown depths of his eyes. "Did Houston mention that I stopped visiting brothels when I got your first letter?"

"No, he didn't tell me that."

Dallas stretched out beside her, raised up on an elbow, and smiled. "Why don't you tell me everything he did mention?"

Dallas rode his horse hard, with the cold midnight wind circling him, and his temper hotter than a branding iron straight out of the fire.

Houston said … Houston thought … Houston had told her …

Dallas had spent the afternoon and early evening hearing about everything Houston had ever said to Amelia. Dallas had known Houston for twenty-eight years and his brother had never in his whole entire life talked that much! Never!

Not when he was a boy working the cotton fields, not when he was beating a drum for the Confederacy, not when they'd traveled back to Texas … Never!

Dallas hadn't planned to break his leg, but when he had, sending Houston after Amelia had seemed the right decision.

He'd known Amelia would be safe with Houston. Houston kept to himself, had since after the war. Dallas had moments when he felt regret over that … and a measure of guilt. Sometimes, he wondered if his actions on that fateful night had been self-serving. He'd never gone back on his word in his life, but he often wondered if the price of keeping his word had been worth it.

He shoved the unsettling thoughts back into the dark corner of his heart that he reserved for regrets, and set his spurs against his horse's sides.

A rough ride usually calmed him. But tonight, nothing was working. He kept hearing Amelia's voice, speaking Houston's name so softly, as though she liked the way it sounded or enjoyed saying his name. As though she spent time thinking of him …

He drew his sweating horse to an abrupt halt and listened to the beast's breath wheeze into the night. He wasn't a man who usually abused his animals, and any other time, he would have dismounted and asked no more of the horse than he asked of himself.

But this time he had a burning inside him that couldn't be contained. He urged the horse forward at a slower gait. He saw the lantern hanging on the front porch of the log cabin, a lantern to welcome strangers and friends alike. He hadn't expected Houston to be so accommodating.

He drew his horse to a halt just beyond the front porch and gazed at the simple log structure. Judging by the size, he didn't think it could be more than one room. It reminded him of … home.

Home before the war. Home, where his mother would flap her apron at them when she discovered them sticking their fingers into her precious sugar or honey. Home, where his pa would let him herd the few cattle they owned instead of making him work in the fields. He'd hated the fields, hated the cotton. Sitting on a horse with the scent of cattle riding the wind was preferable any day to tearing up the land and breaking his back to do it.

He dismounted, pushed the memories aside, and pulled on the tether that harnessed his anger. He took no pains to be quiet as he stepped on the porch and pounded the door so loudly he was certain he'd wake the dead.

If his brother didn't get his butt out here, that was exactly what he'd be—dead.

Sleeping on a pallet against the corral fence, Houston had awoken to the sound of hooves beating the earth unmercifully. His first thought as he saw his brother riding in like hell's vengeance was that something had happened to Amelia. His heart had matched the rhythm of the horse's gallop, and although the evening air was cool around him, he'd broken out in a clammy sweat.

He'd thrown off the blanket, scrambled to his feet, and would have gone tearing across the yard like a madman if Dallas hadn't brought his horse to a grinding halt, and then sat there as though he'd come in from a leisurely Sunday ride.

Now his brother was banging on his door loud enough to start a stampede.

"Goddamn it, Houston! Open the door!"

A memory flickered through Houston's mind of a time when they were boys: They'd been swimming in the cold creek. Dallas had left the water, claiming it was time to go home, ordering Houston out of the creek, always ordering Houston around. This day, Houston hadn't been in the mood for orders. Taking a deep breath, he'd gone under the water and swam to a place where the shadows were deep. He'd come up for air just as Dallas was stomping his boots into place. Then Dallas had looked out over the creek and started yelling for him. Houston had held his silence, hard as it had been, until Dallas had finally plowed back into the creek, slicing his hands through the water like he was Moses and could part the waters of the creek to reveal his brother. Houston had crept out of the water and moseyed over to where his clothes were. He'd sat there quietly waiting until Dallas stopped his thrashing and called out his name again.

"You might try lookin' a little to your left!" Houston had yelled. "I might be over there!"

Dallas had spun around so quickly that he had lost his balance and slid beneath the water. He'd come back up sputtering and angry.

They'd wrestled, as boys were prone to do, until the laughter took over, and they both agreed it had been a fine day. They'd come home covered in mud, smiling as they told the story. Unfortunately, their father hadn't shared their enthusiasm for the prank. Houston had received a lecture on the evils of crying wolf and had been sent to bed without his supper. But it had all been worth it to see the surprise on Dallas's face when he'd turned around, and the horror in his eyes when he'd realized he was going down.

Oh, yeah, it had been worth it.

Dallas's pounding hadn't abated as he yelled once again, "Houston, open the goddamn door!"

Houston stepped silently onto the porch, eased his arm beneath his brother's pounding fist, grabbed the latch, and shoved the door open. "That what you wanted?" he asked.

Dallas jerked back as though someone had just roped him and given him a sharp tug. His breathing was labored, and Houston was certain if it had been daylight, he would have seen fury within his brother's dark eyes.

"Where in the hell were you?" Dallas demanded.

"Sleeping by the corral."

Dallas turned toward the corral, and Houston almost imagined he could see the horror on Dallas's face. He couldn't stop himself from adding, "I saw you the minute you rode in."

"Then you should have spoken up, let me know you were about."

"But watching was so much more fun."

"I didn't give you anything to watch."

Houston could have argued against that statement, but decided to let sleeping dogs lie. "Has something happened to Amelia?"

"No, she's fine. I just …" Dallas cleared his throat. "I've just never been out to your place before."

"It looks better at night," Houston said, a bad feeling in his gut. It wasn't like Dallas to have difficulty finding the right words, and the man never explained his actions. Never. "What'd you do to Amelia?"

Dallas jerked his head around. "I didn't do anything to her, but I'd like to know what you did."

Houston narrowed his gaze. "What do you mean by that?"

Dallas took a step forward. "I mean every sentence she utters has your name in it. Houston said this … Houston thinks that … You'd think the two of you were one person. She's telling me things you think like she's an authority on what goes on in your head."

Houston shrugged. "You travel with a person, you get to know him."

"How well did you get to know Amelia?"

Houston's gut reaction was to plow his balled fist right into the center of his brother's perfect face. Instead, he did what he always did. He took the easy path. "Why don't you head on home, and I'll forget you ever came out here tonight?"

"Answer me, goddamn it!"

"I just did. Now get the hell off my land."

"You bedded her, didn't you?"

Like most cowboys, Houston had never before hit a man. Guns were a man's way, not fists. His brother's face felt like a wall of stone when Houston's tightened fist made contact with it. The pain shot up his arm as Dallas stumbled back and fell off the porch. Houston leapt off the porch and planted his foot squarely on his brother's chest. Dallas grunted and wrapped his hands around Houston's ankle. Houston pressed down.

"I told you to stay off that goddamn horse, but you wouldn't listen! And I paid the price for your stubbornness. For forty-three days I traveled through hell, wanting that woman like I've never wanted anything in my life. For forty-three days, I drew your goddamn brand in the dirt to remind myself that she belonged to you, that she deserved the best of men. Think what you want of me, but never for one goddamn minute think less of her because you forced her into my company." He jerked his foot back. "She went through hell to get to you: snake, storm, flood, hunger, and cold, and she never once complained. She's a woman of courage, Dallas, and by God, if you don't worship the ground she walks on, I'll find her a husband who will. Now, get the hell off my land."

Without looking back, Houston strode to the corral and crossed his arms over the railing. He was shaking badly and his legs felt like the thick mud of a bog. He thought they might buckle under him at any moment. That would certainly ruin the effectiveness of his tirade. He thought he might even be sick.

He heard Dallas's horse whinny and then he heard the pounding of hooves. He slid to the ground and leaned back against the fence post. His father had been a violent man, quick to raise his voice and fist in anger. Houston had never wanted to be like him. He'd kept his temper to himself, letting it gnaw at his insides, never letting it show for fear of what it might do.

Well, now he knew. He was just like the man he despised.

* * *

Within the depths of slumber, Amelia heard her name whispered frantically. She struggled through the haze, squinting against the light burning in the lantern. She could see a slender form hovering over her bed, a young man with worried eyes. Austin.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Bad news always came at night. Houston. Something had happened to Houston. She jerked upright and grabbed his arm. "What's wrong?"

"Dallas got hurt."

"Dallas?" Her momentary relief gave way to panic and guilt. Her first waking thought should have been of Dallas. Scrambling out of bed, she wrapped a blanket around herself.

"It ain't bad," Austin explained, "but I think it's gonna need stitching."

She rushed to the chair by the window and knelt beside the green dress she'd been trying to repair. She grabbed her scissors and cut the thread before slipping the needle from the cloth. "Where is he?" she asked as she spun around. Caught off guard, she stared at Austin, who had pressed her pillow against his face.

Guiltily, he dropped her pillow to the bed. "Your pillow don't smell like mine."

"Do you want to take it?" she asked.

He hooked his thumbs on the waistband of his trousers and ducked his head. "Nah, I'd best not. The men might laugh at me. That sweet smell would surely get noticed in the bunkhouse. It's rank in there, just like old meat."

She made a quick mental note to sprinkle some fragrance in his room once he moved back into it after she and Dallas were married. "Where is Dallas?"

"Oh!" He jumped, his arms flailing out. "This way."

She followed him to the barn. Dallas was sitting just inside the doorway, his head pressed back against the wall, his eyes closed. Dust coated his clothes. Blood trailed slowly down his bruised and swelling cheek.

"Oh, my goodness, what happened?" Amelia exclaimed as she knelt beside him.

His eyes flew open, and he glared over her shoulder at Austin. "I told you to get the cook."

"I know, but I figured you probably just forgot that we had a woman here to tend to our needs."

"Amelia, go back to bed," Dallas ordered. "I'll get Cookie."

He started to rise, and Amelia placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'll take care of you, but we'll need to move to the kitchen."

"That wouldn't be proper."

"Why not?"

"Because we're not married, and it's the dead of night."

She sighed. "You're hurt. You're the man I'm going to marry. Surely the men who work for you know that I can trust you in my kitchen."

She could see the arguments running through his mind. She thought she might never understand the way a man thought. "It makes no sense that I can travel across the state with your brother and not damage my reputation, but helping you in a time of need will mark me as a loose woman."

He averted his gaze and struggled to his feet. "All right." He pointed a menacing finger at Austin. "This goes no further than you and me."

Austin nodded, but Amelia saw the confusion in his eyes, a confusion she understood.

"Dallas will be all right," she assured Austin as they walked to the house.

Once inside the kitchen, Dallas pulled a chair out from the table and dropped his aching body into place. Austin hitched up a hip and sat on the table.

"Make yourself useful and build a fire in the stove for Amelia. We'll be needing warm water."

Austin slid off the table and went about the task, dropping three logs in the process. Dallas had a feeling Austin had grown sweet on Amelia. He couldn't blame the boy. They were a young man's feelings, no threat to him.

He watched as Amelia warmed the water. He'd been so grateful to finally see her in person when she'd first arrived at the ranch that he hadn't given a lot of thought to what she'd endured in getting here. He should have. He should have grilled Houston for an accounting of every day—

"How did you get hurt?" she asked as she set a bowl of warm water on the table and sat beside him. She dipped the cloth into the water and gently dabbed at his cheek.

Humiliation swamped him. He would have preferred a bullet to a fist. "I fell off my horse."

Her hand stilled, and she searched his face. He kept it as still as stone, knowing she was looking for the truth, hoping she didn't find it. He'd never lied before, and he had no idea if he was covering it up.

"I couldn't sleep. I go riding when I can't sleep."

She smiled softly. "Well, then, I'm certainly marrying into the right family. You don't sleep. Houston doesn't sleep. I don't sleep." She glanced at Austin. He'd returned to his spot at the end of the table. "Do you sleep?"

"Not in the bunkhouse. Too many men snoring. Dallas is the worst. You won't get any sleep at all after you marry him."

"If I can sleep through Houston snoring, I can sleep through anyone snoring."

"I'm probably louder," Dallas said, wondering what had prompted such a childish response. He'd never felt competitive where Houston was concerned. He'd always known he was the better of the two. His father had drilled that lesson into him, every chance he got, pointing out Dallas's strengths and Houston's weaknesses.

Her smile increased. "I won't hold that against you." She withdrew the needle from her sleeve. "I think I should sew that up."

He nodded toward Austin. "Go get the whiskey."

Austin hopped off the table and headed for Dallas's office. Amelia continued to dab at his face, so gently. Before he could think, he'd cradled her cheek in his palm and carried his lips to hers. She sighed in surprise, and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth.

She returned the kiss timidly, almost as though she were afraid. Lord, he didn't want her to be afraid, not of him, not of anything. He drew back and studied her face. So innocent. He was ashamed of his earlier doubts. He'd deserved the punch Houston had given him; deserved it and a lot more.

"It's gonna be a long two months," he said.

She blushed prettily, so damned prettily, that for the first time, he saw the journey through his brother's eyes. And he didn't like what he saw. Not one damn bit.

Long before dawn, Amelia sat on the back porch, waiting, hoping that she was wrong.

She smiled as Austin appeared through the darkness, his long legs carrying him toward the back porch, his violin tucked beneath his arm.

"Mornin'," he said as he sat beside her and positioned his violin beneath his chin.

"Did Dallas ride out with the men?"

"No, ma'am. He rode out right after we left you. Said he had some business to take care of."

Panic swelled within her as she imagined exactly what that business might entail. She shouldn't have waited. She should have ridden out by herself. "Will you take me to see Houston?"

Grimacing, he tapped the bow on the violin.

"Dallas told me not to take you out to Houston's place."

Her panic increased as she stood. "Then I'll go alone."

Austin jumped to his feet. "You can't do that."

"I need to see how badly Houston is hurt."

"What makes you think he's hurt?"

She tilted her head and studied him, wondering when it was that people lost the innocent way they viewed life. "I've seen Dallas ride. He didn't fall off his horse."

"Then what happened?"

Reaching up, she brushed the dark hair from his youthful brow. He ducked his head in embarrassment at her attentions. "I think he and Houston got into a fight."

"Houston? Ah, no, ma'am. Houston wouldn't have hit him. Houston never fights. Maybe Dallas ran into some cattle rustlers and just wanted to spare you the worry."

"Then why did he tell you not to take me to see Houston?"

"I don't know. He's not a man I question."

"I know that you're probably right, and I'm probably wrong, but I need to see Houston."

He sighed heavily. "What if I just went to check on him?"

"No, I need to see him."

"All right. I'll get our horses."

She heard him muttering oaths as he strode away. If she was right, she expected to be muttering a few of her own before the day was over.

"See? He's just fine," Austin said as they brought their horses to a halt at the edge of Houston's property. "He wouldn't be inside the corral working with the palomino if he wasn't."

"I want to see him more closely."

She started to urge the horse forward, but Austin snaked out his hand and grabbed her arm.

"We can't go ridin' in there while he's alone in the corral. We spook that horse, and she'll pound Houston into the ground."

"All right, I'll walk."

She dismounted, only to find Austin barring her way.

"You know, you are more stubborn than Dallas ever thought about being. Let me tie these horses up over at that bush and I'll walk with you. If we don't do this right, we'll get him killed."

"I know how to approach a wild mustang. I was with Houston when he rode into the herd."

Using his thumb, he tipped his hat off his brow, his blue eyes wide. "He took you with him? Into the herd?"

She smiled at the memory.

"God damn it! He never took me. He always made me wait by the corral he'd built for them so I could close the gate. How come he took you?"

"I guess he couldn't leave me alone."

"What'd it feel like?" he asked in awe. "What'd it feel like to be in the middle of all them horses?"

"Wonderful." She put her hand on his arm. "Let me see if Houston is all right, and then I'll tell you all about it."

"Wait here," he ordered before taking the horses back to the bush.

Amelia turned her attention back to the corral. Without a shirt or hat, Houston stood in the center of the corral, leading the palomino on a rope. The horse trotted in a circle.

The animal was beautiful, graceful, and carried herself proudly as though she knew her ancestors were of the best stock. Houston would be able to get a good price for her, enough that he could expand his small operation, breed more horses with earnestness.

She imagined the joy that would be found in working beside a man, helping to build and shape his dream. Dallas had already built his empire, realized all but one of his dreams. Amelia would give him his final dream: a son. She would find joy and happiness in their child. Through the years, she would guide him so, like his father, he would be a man whom other men respected and admired.

Yet, she couldn't help but wonder if a small part of her would always yearn for more.

Austin rejoined her, and together, they slowly approached the corral. She couldn't stop herself from admiring Houston's lean form. As sinewy as that of the mustang, as powerful, his muscles rippled over his back, over his chest, along his arms as he guided the horse.

As they drew nearer, she could hear the gentle timbre of his voice as he encouraged the horse. She thought the man could tame a snake if he set his mind to it.

"He doesn't look like he's been in a fight," Austin whispered, leaning low so she could hear him without disturbing the horse.

No, he didn't look as though he'd been in a fight. She could see no bruises on his face or body. She could only see the magnificence of his stance. He was in his element here, with his horses. She supposed some men were simply meant to be loners, simply preferred their solitude.

He caught sight of them then, and her heart misbehaved as it always did when he gazed upon her with such intensity. She wished for an insane minute that she was a horse, that he could love her as he did his mustangs.

With a gentle guiding hand, he slowed the horse to a walk, then brought it to a halt. He removed the rope halter and gave the horse a slap on the rump before walking toward Amelia.

The horse turned about and nudged Houston's backside. Smiling broadly, Houston reached into his pocket and withdrew an apple. The horse took it and trotted to the far side of the corral. Houston continued on and climbed over the railing.

"What brings you out here?" he asked as he grabbed his shirt and shrugged into it.

She resisted the urge to capture the bead of sweat that trailed down his chest until it found refuge behind the waistband of his trousers.

"Amelia didn't believe that Dallas fell off his horse last night and busted his face," Austin said.

Houston began to button his shirt, his gaze lowered as he concentrated on a task he should have been able to perform in the dark. "It's not unusual for a man to fall off his horse when he's riding at night. Especially when there's no moon. Horse drops a leg into a prairie dog hole, and he throws the rider."

She placed her hand over his, and he grew still. "How did you bruise your knuckles?" she asked.

He lifted his gaze. "Fell off the porch."

"How'd you do that?" Austin asked.

"A hell of a lot of falling going on around here," she said before she spun around, the anger seething within her.

"I didn't think women were supposed to swear," Austin said.

"Take Black Thunder for a ride," Houston said.

"But I wanna hear—"

She heard a gentle scuff that she was certain was Houston tapping Austin's head.

"Goddamn it!" Austin cried.

"Stop using that language around Amelia."

"Why? She uses it around me."

She heard Houston's exasperated sigh and fought back the tears burning her eyes.

"Please take the horse for a ride," Houston said in resignation.

"Will you take me into the herd with you the next time you go after wild mustangs?" Austin asked.

"Yes."

"All right. I won't be gone long." "Fine."

She watched as Austin ran to the corral. She waited an eternity for him to mount the horse and gallop out of sight. She felt Houston's hand come to rest on her shoulder. She couldn't stop herself from turning and stepping into his embrace. He closed his arms around her, and she laid her head against his chest, relishing the steady beat of his heart.

"Dallas came here last night, didn't he?"

His arms tightened around her. "Dallas has his life planned out in detail. He's just a little frustrated right now because some of those details didn't go as planned. Once you're married—"

She lifted her gaze. "I don't love him. I don't know if I'll ever love him."

He released his hold on her and stepped back as though she'd suddenly sprouted poisonous fangs. "You knew you wouldn't be marrying for love when you placed your ad."

"Because at the time, I didn't know what it was to love, how precious a gift it is."

"If it's a gift, then it can be given away, and you'll find a way to give it to Dallas."

"I've already given it away. I can't take it back. But you don't want it, do you?"

She saw anguish reflected in the depths of his gaze. "It's not that I don't want it. It's that I don't deserve it."

"Why?"

"Ask Dallas. It's the reason he can't stand the sight of me."