Chapter Eighteen

D usty Flats wasn't much more than a hole in the ground, a place for cowboys to spend energy and money when they were trailing cattle. It boasted one cantina with a bathing room in the back; a general store with so little merchandise that people simply traipsed in, picked up what they needed, and slapped their money onto the counter; and a house filled to capacity with sporting women. No church, no school, no town hall.

Houston hadn't detoured by the settlement in years. He'd forgotten how dismal the place appeared at midnight, but it had what he needed to distract him from all the unsettling thoughts running through his head, and it had what Austin wanted. It'd do.

He brought his horse to a halt in front of the two-story wooden framed house and dismounted.

"This it?" Austin asked as he slid off his bay gelding and absently wrapped the reins around the hitching rail.

"Yep."

Bending at the waist and peering through the dust coated windows, Austin paced the rattling wooden porch. "Ain't much light. What if they're closed?"

"They're not closed," Houston assured him as he stepped on the porch. He wondered if he'd ever been as young as Austin appeared now, ever held that much exuberance about anything. Houston had been eighteen the first time he had paid a woman for her services. He'd felt like an old man, with no excitement, no anticipation. Just something to do so he could say he'd done it. "You don't need much light for what we're gonna do." The door squeaked on dry hinges as he shoved it open. "Come on."

Austin bounded through like a puppy being tossed a bone. He swept his hat from his head, his eyes larger than a harvest moon as he took in the drab surroundings. The vacant seats of the wooden chairs had been polished to a shine by the backsides of all the cowboys who had sat waiting their turn over the years.

A woman with fiery red hair, violet eyes, and full lips painted blood red sauntered over and trailed her fingers from Austin's shoulder to his elbow and back up. She purred like a contented cat that had just lapped up the last of the cream, her smile one of appreciation.

"Hey, darlin'," she cooed in a voice as sultry as a summer night.

"‘Howdy," Austin croaked, his voice changing pitch three times. He'd latched his gaze onto her bountiful bosom which Houston thought might bust free of that shimmering red corset at any moment. He watched his brother's Adam's apple slide up and down and figured Austin was thinking the same thing.

"Maria still work here?" Houston asked.

The woman yelled over the din of a distant off-key piano. Maria shoved herself away from the lanky cowboy over whom she'd been draped and sauntered over, smiling when she recognized Houston.

She appeared older than he'd remembered, worn as thin as the wood on the chairs. The red paint she'd smeared on her cheeks didn't stop them from sagging and the dark circles beneath her eyes had little to do with the kohl she was wearing.

Because she knew him, had serviced him before, she placed her hand inside his thigh, embarrassingly close to his crotch. He was uncomfortable as hell blushing in front of his little brother.

"Been a long time, cowboy," Maria said in a weary voice. "I got that handsome fella over there interested in me. I don't know if double will make me forget him."

"Triple, then."

Her smile grew, but never reached her eyes as she wrapped her arm through his. "I'm yours."

He looked over his shoulder at Austin. "This is his first time. Be gentle with him."

The woman's throaty laughter spilled past her curved lips. "Ah, honey, I'm always gentle." She tugged on Austin's hand. "Come on, sweet thing."

"Shouldn't we talk first?" Austin asked, and the woman's laughter grew.

"Don't worry about him. Velvet will give him a time he won't soon forget," Maria said as she led Houston toward the stairs, leaving Austin standing and stuttering in the front parlor. "You want it the same as last time?"

The loneliness swept through him as he gave her his answer. "Yeah."

Houston stepped on the porch and drew in a long deep breath of the brisk fresh air. No smoke. No heavy perfume. No musky stench of stale bodies rutting like dogs.

The night air was clear, as clear as the stars twinkling above him. He thought he'd never again be able to look upon the night sky without thinking of Amelia curled in his arms.

He'd watched Maria undress … and felt nothing but a desire to leave. The woman's naked body hadn't been half as alluring as Amelia's shadow. He'd apologized for his lack of interest, paid her what he'd promised, and walked out without touching her. Since Amelia had come into his life, he was doing one hell of a lot of apologizing.

He crossed the porch and dropped to the top step where his younger brother was leaning against the porch post, gazing into the distance as though he'd fallen in love.

"Didn't take you long," Houston said as he settled against the opposite post. He chuckled low. "Course, as I recall, didn't take me long the first time, either."

"I didn't go with her," Austin said quietly. "I was thinking about Dallas and Amelia—"

"Well, don't," Houston snapped.

Austin turned his head slightly. "I wasn't thinking nothing personal or anything. I just thought all women were like Amelia, all clean and sweet smelling and smiling like they were glad to see me."

"There's a hell of a lot of difference between a sporting woman and a woman like Amelia."

"How come?"

Houston sighed with frustration. He didn't need or want this conversation tonight. Dallas was the one who had the vast experience with women. He should have done a better job of educating the boy. "Sporting women, well, they can be had for a price. A woman like Amelia … doesn't give herself lightly. Men don't fall in love with sporting women. But a woman like Amelia … when a man falls in love with a woman like Amelia … he does what's best for her, no matter what the cost to him."

"You ever fall in love with a woman like Amelia?"

"Once."

"When?"

He dug his elbows unmercifully into his thighs, welcoming the distraction of the pain. "Forever. Reckon I'll love her forever, till the day I die."

"What happened to her?"

"She married someone else."

"You loved her, but you let her marry some other fella? Why'd you do a fool thing like that?"

"Because it was best for her."

"How do you know it was best for her?"

Houston swiveled his head and captured his brother's gaze. "What?"

Austin shrugged. "What if what you thought was best for her wasn't what she wanted?"

"What are you talking about?"

Austin slid his backside across the porch. "I'm not learned in these matters so I don't understand how you know what you did was best for her."

"I just know, that's all. I just know." He surged to his feet, leapt off the porch, and began pacing across the lantern-lit path, into the darkness, then back into the light. Darkness. Light. His life before Amelia. His life after he'd come to know her. Darkness. Light.

He had done what was best for Amelia. She didn't need to wake up each morning next to a man who was afraid of the dark, afraid of the dawn, afraid of what the day might hold. She deserved better. He'd given her better.

Dallas feared no man, feared nothing. He hadn't run when the cannons were roaring and the bullets were whizzing past. He'd stood his ground and led the Confederate forces through the charge … over and over … in battle after battle.

Dallas was the kind of man Amelia deserved. Amelia with her courageous heart that had seen them through disaster after disaster. Amelia with the tears shimmering in her eyes, along with understanding.

Why had she looked at him with no judgment in her eyes, no revulsion after his confession?

He wasn't the hero Dallas had been. He never would be. He had run like a frightened jackrabbit and paid a heavy price: his father's life.

He had never talked with Dallas about that day. Sometimes, Houston would wonder if the battle had happened at all. Then he'd stop to water his horse at a pond. Within the clear still waters, he'd see his reflection, a constant memento of how his father had died.

He knew his face served as a reminder for Dallas as well. For months after Houston had been wounded, Dallas had preferred to stare at his mud-covered boots rather than meet Houston's gaze.

Amelia should have averted her gaze as well. She should have been appalled and horrified. The woman kept her heart in her eyes and that was all he'd seen reflected there: her love for him.

He skidded to a dead halt and stared hard at Austin. The boy's chin carried so many nicks from his first shave that it was a wonder he hadn't bled to death. He was a year older than Houston had been when he'd last stood on a battlefield. Sweet Lord, Houston had never had the opportunity to shave his whole face; he'd never flirted with girls, wooed women, or danced through the night. He'd never loved.

Not until Amelia.

And he'd given her up because he'd thought it was best for her. Because he had nothing to offer her but a one-roomed log cabin, a few horses, a dream so small that it wouldn't cover the palm of her hand.

And his heart. His wounded heart.

He yanked the reins off the hitching post and mounted his horse.

Austin came to his feet. "Where you goin'?"

"Back to the ranch."

They rode hard through the night. Houston wasn't at all certain what he would say to Amelia, what explanation he could give Dallas.

He'd held his silence, sacrificing his right to say anything. She had pledged herself to Dallas, had become his wife. Vows Houston thought he'd ignored thrummed through his head with the rhythm of the pounding hooves: to love, honor, and obey … until death parted them.

He only knew that he had to see her, had to talk to her, and had to understand why she hadn't turned away from him, repulsed by his confession. Good Lord, if he didn't know better, he'd swear she had looked as though she loved him more.

Would a night in Dallas's arms sway her heart away from Houston? And if it didn't, what difference would it make? She could already be carrying the son that Dallas wanted so desperately.

Black smoke billowed in the distance, darkening the brilliance of the dawn. The familiar panic and the accustomed fear settled into Houston's gut. He urged his horse into a faster gallop, with Austin following him like a shadow.

"What is it?" Austin yelled behind him.

"Trouble!"

His horse tore up the ground with the intensity of the gallop. Houston leaned low, pressing Sorrel to ride with all her heart. Good judgment told him to slow as he neared Dallas's home, but the eerie silence urged him on.

Someone had reduced the barn to smoldering embers and the corral to broken planks of wood. With black soot and sweat smeared over their faces and clothes, the men milled around in front of the house as though lost.

Houston jerked his horse to a halt. "What happened?"

Slim lifted a shoulder and a vacant gaze. "Don't know. We were all in the bunkhouse drunk as skunks after celebrating the wedding. We heard a gunshot. Got outside, but it was too late to do any good. Barn was on fire, horses gone. The boss is still out cold. Cookie's with him. Jackson took off at a run to find some help, but on foot, it'll take him a week to reach another ranch. The rest of us ain't no good without a horse beneath us."

"Amelia? What about Amelia?"

Slim dropped his gaze. Houston dismounted and grabbed the man by the shirtfront, pulling him up to eye level. "Where's Amelia?"

Slim shifted his gaze to the other men. They stepped back. Houston shook him. "Goddamn it! Is she hurt?"

Slim swallowed. "We don't know where she is."

Roughly, Houston released his hold on Slim, his heart pounding so hard, he was certain every man in the state could hear it. "She has to be here. Find her! Now!"

"She's not here," a seething voice echoed from the doorway.

Dallas stumbled down the steps and leaned against the beam for support, breathing heavily, blood trailing near his temple.

Houston placed a steadying hand on his brother's shoulder. "You've been shot."

"It's just a crease. That's the least of my worries right now. God damn horse thieves took Amelia." Dallas pushed away from the porch. "I'm going to get her back. Nobody takes what belongs to me, by God. Nobody. Austin, I'm taking your horse."

Austin scrambled off his horse so quickly that he lost his footing and his backside hit the dirt. In an unsteady gait, Dallas headed toward the gelding. Houston knew it was determination alone that got his brother up into the saddle.

"I'm coming with you," Houston said as he mounted Sorrel.

"Suit yourself. Austin, you're in charge here till we get back."

Austin's eyes widened. "Me?"

"You got a problem with that?" Dallas asked.

Austin shook his head vigorously. "No, sir."

"Good. Any orders you give are coming from me, so don't give any orders I wouldn't give."

"Yes, sir. We'll get the corral rebuilt. Reckon you'll be bringin' the horses back."

"Damn right I will. Along with my wife."

Dallas had a reputation for protecting what was his. In his wildest dreams, Houston never would have thought anyone would be fool enough to try and take what belonged to Dallas Leigh, but as he was discovering, the men who had taken Amelia were fools. They left a trail that a blind man could have followed.

"They're not too cautious," Houston observed.

"Since they took all the horses, I don't imagine they expected anyone to come after them for a day or so. That mistake will cost them dearly."

They caught up with the horse thieves near dusk. They were ensconced in a canyon, smoke spiraling from their campfire. Houston and Dallas climbed the bluff and crawled on their bellies to its edge.

"I count six," Dallas said. "We could pick them off from up here."

Houston took Dallas's word for the number. His gaze was trained on Amelia. From this distance it was difficult to measure, but he didn't think she looked hurt.

"They might take it into their heads to use Amelia as a shield," Houston said.

"True enough, but it looks like there's only one way in. We'd make easy targets if we went that route," Dallas said.

"And we'd put Amelia at risk if we go in there with our guns firing. She's sure to get hurt."

"Then what would you suggest?"

"I go in alone."

Dallas jerked his head around.

"If I can get close to her," Houston continued, "I could at least protect her while you fire from up here. If I can get my horse close enough to her, maybe I can get her up on it, and we can ride out."

Dallas clenched his jaw. "She's my wife."

"But they know what you look like. Besides, you're a better shot than I am and my horse is faster. Figure I can go in there claiming to be an outlaw looking for a place to hide." He lifted a corner of his mouth. "My face ought to convince them I'm telling the truth."

Dallas flinched and gazed back into the canyon. "I don't want the two of you trapped in there. I won't start shooting until you can get your horse close to her. Use the diversion to get her on the horse and get her out of there. I'll take care of the thieves."

"See that you do."

"It'll be night soon. We need to work fast. If anything goes wrong …" Dallas's voice trailed off.

Houston grabbed Dallas's coat and jerked him around. "Just make sure Amelia comes first. No matter what happens, she gets out of there alive."

Amelia had never been so terrified in her entire life. She hugged the rocky canyon wall wishing she could melt into it and disappear. If she survived, she didn't think she would cherish her green wedding dress or its memories.

The ropes chafed her wrists, her jaw still ached. When she didn't think anyone was looking, she'd tried to gnaw the knots loose. Her attempt had earned her a flat-handed slap and tighter knots.

She saw a man, his arms raised, walking into the canyon leading a horse. Two men sauntered behind him, rifles trained on him giving them the advantage and a false arrogance. She recognized the weathered hat, the dusty black coat, and the horse. Houston didn't look at her or call out to her with reassurances. Perhaps he had no reassurances to give. Or perhaps he was simply biding his time. He seemed remarkably calm for a man who had just walked into a nest of vipers. She kept her gaze locked on him, watching for any small signal that would indicate he had a plan to rescue her.

"What have we got here?" the man she knew to be leader said as he came to his feet, his hand resting easily on the butt of his gun.

Houston walked farther into the camp, hoping to give Dallas sight of the two men behind him. He didn't know how to signal to him that another man was guarding the entrance.

"He was just ridin' in, pretty as you please, whistlin' some song like he owned the place," one of the men who had been tailing him said as they both stopped walking sooner than Houston would have liked. He didn't know if Dallas could see them from his vantage point at the top of the bluff.

"I do own the place," Houston said, trying to imitate the authority Dallas always carried in his voice. "Or at least I do when I'm lookin' for a place to hide out for a couple of days." He squatted, lowered his arms, and warmed his hands before the fire, praying no one could see how badly they were shaking. "I don't mind sharin' the place, though."

The man he assumed was the leader narrowed his eyes. "You hidin' from the law?"

"I'm hiding from anyone who's looking for me."

The man scratched his scraggly beard and chuckled. "Know that feeling. You got a name?"

"Dare."

"Dare?" the man asked, incredulously.

Houston came slowly to his feet, used his thumb to push his hat up off his brow, and met the man's gaze. "You got a problem with that?"

"Nah, ain't got no problem with it at all." He held out his hand. "I'm Colson. These here are my men."

Ignoring the outstretched hand, Houston glanced quickly around the canyon. A makeshift corral held the stolen horses. The other horses were saddled and lightly tethered to the brush growing out of the rocks. They could be mounted in the blink of an eye and riding west a half-blink later. "You seem to have a lot more horses than you do men."

"We collect 'em whenever fortune smiles on us. Can always find a man willing to pay for good horseflesh."

"And the woman?"

Colson laughed knowingly. "Reckon men are willing to pay for that, too."

"Reckon they are. Mind if I have a look-see?"

Colson rubbed his chin. "Not as long as all you do is look. She'll be keeping me warm tonight."

"Understood," Houston said as he fought the urge to plow his fist into that ugly face. He damned the men for taking his revolver. Thank God, they'd left his rifle in the scabbard, although he didn't know if it would do him much good in these close quarters. An idea came to him. He turned back to Colson, hoping the smile he gave the man looked as mean as it felt. "Mind if I have me a little innocent fun? I like to hear women scream."

Colson narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by innocent?"

Houston jerked his head toward Amelia. "The way she's worked her way into that crack, I figured she ain't given any thought as to what's in there with her. Women hate things with tiny legs. Just thought I'd mention them to her."

Colson squatted before the fire. "I don't think she's the type to scream over a little bug, but it don't bother me none if you have your fun."

Houston walked as calmly as he could toward the far corner of the canyon, grateful no one objected when Sorrel followed him. He was going to reward the horse with a whole basket of apples if they lived through this night.

Amelia had wedged herself into a large crack in the canyon wall. She carried a fresh bruise on her cheek, and it was all he could do not to turn around right then, yank his rifle out of the scabbard, and start shooting.

As he neared, he called out, "Little lady, scorpions and snakes sure do love to hide in the cool cracks." He mouthed "scream," and bless her heart, she did.

She released an ear-splitting scream as she catapulted out of the crack and lunged into his arms. The men surrounding them guffawed. A shot rang out.

As the thieves scrambled for cover, Houston wrapped his hands around Amelia's waist and hoisted her into the saddle. She grabbed the horn. He mounted behind her and urged Sorrel into a gallop as a second shot ricocheted off the rocks.

"What the hell?" someone shouted.

Houston heard several more shots ring out. Particles of rock flew through the air, showering over them as they raced toward the entrance. Men hollered. Horses whinnied. All hell was breaking loose behind them, but he rode on without looking back.

He held Amelia as close as he could, using his body as a shield around her as much as possible as they tore through the mouth of the canyon. He heard a bullet whisper past his ear.

He kicked Sorrel's sides, prodding her into a faster gallop. He saw the setting sun glint off a rifle and he kept riding. He heard the retort of more gunfire. He didn't know how much time Dallas could buy them. He feared it wouldn't be enough.

He felt a sharp bite in his arm. He glanced back. Three riders were galloping fast and furious from the mouth of the canyon. Leaning forward, he pulled his rifle from the scabbard. He looked back over his shoulder. The three riders were gaining on them. A horse with two riders couldn't outrun a horse with one, no matter how fast he was.

"Take the reins!" he yelled.

Awkward as it was with her hands still bound, Amelia did as he instructed. His thighs hugging the horse, he pulled Amelia flush against him. "‘Keep riding!"

He took one last breath filled with her faint sweet scent. "I love you."

With fluid motions, he released her, grabbed the back of the saddle, shoved hard, and propelled himself off the galloping horse, away from the pounding hooves. He hit the ground, rolled into a kneeling position, brought his rifle up, and fired.

Amelia had heard Houston's words as though he'd whispered them in a field of flowers instead of on the open plains as they were riding hell-bent to get away. And then she had felt him leaving her … forever.

Against his wishes, she jerked back on the reins, fighting to bring the galloping horse to a staggering halt. She whirled Sorrel around just in time to see Houston shoot the second of three riders. The remaining rider fired his rifle. Houston jerked back, his arms flailing out to the side.

"No!" she cried, her heart screamed.

Another retort of gunfire filled the air, and the last rider slumped forward before tumbling from his saddle. Amelia urged Sorrel into a gallop, a litany of prayers rushing through her mind. She drew the horse to a halt where Houston had fallen. She scrambled out of the saddle and fell to her knees beside him.

Bright red blood soaked through his shirt. "No," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "No, no, no." Ignoring the pain as the rope bit into her wrists, she ripped off a portion of her petticoat and pressed it against the wound, desperately trying to staunch the flow of crimson. The white cotton rapidly became red.

Houston opened his eye. She touched her palm to his cheek. "Don't you die on me. I'll never forgive you if you die on me."

"I didn't run," he rasped.

"But you should have, you fool! You should have stayed with me!"

A corner of his mouth tilted up. "That would have been the easy way. You deserve better than that."

He sank into oblivion, his breathing shallow. A shadow crossed over his face. Amelia jerked her head up as Dallas dropped to his knees, knife in hand, and began to cut away Houston's shirt.

"Why in the hell didn't he stay on the horse? I wasn't that far behind—"

"He had something to prove to himself," she said quietly, the tears coursing down her cheeks.