Wild Texas Rose

by Christina Dodd

  Trouble was, he needed her like a long drink of cool water on a hot Texas day. He needed her forever, and to have her, he had to get this woman figured out. And that meant, oh God, they had to have a conversation.

  He’d rather face a riled rattler, but it had to be done, and she had to be here to talk. And listen. So he taunted, “You afraid of me? Afraid you can’t keep your hands off me?”

  She planted herself on the grass a good five feet away from him, and she planted herself hard enough that she made him wince in sympathy for her fine, skinny backside. “I can keep my hands off you fine, Mr. Thorndike Samuel Maxwell.”

  The use of his full name reminded Thorn of that day in court nine years ago. “You sound like my mother.”

  “Have you been to see your mother?” She sounded as snotty as she’d sounded when she was six years old.

  And he responded the same way. “Yes.”

  “I wondered. I mean, you said you’d been in the county for a while, scouting out the horse thief, and I thought it would be nice if you visited your mother.” She paused for a beat. “Like you never did me.”

  He tried to be glad she was speaking to him. “I told you why.”

  “Let’s see.” She pressed her index finger into her chin. “Revenge, wasn’t it? Yes, that’s right, revenge for sending you to prison. But that doesn’t explain the last seven years.” Her voice got real loud.

  “Seven years?” Thorn repeated.

  “Isn’t that how long you’ve been out of prison? Seven years? Isn’t that how long you’ve been a free man? Seven years?” She shook a fist at him, and then caught herself. Looking curiously at her hand as if it were someone else’s, she straightened her fingers. “Seven years, and you never came to see me or even sent me word. I thought you must be an outlaw. I imagined you shot or sick or dying.” Her voice caught. “And all the time you were riding the prairies and the hills as a Texas Ranger.”

  “I did come to see you.” Thorn glanced around at the wide-open canyon, at the departing cowboys and at that damned gossip Sonny, still dragging his feet and glancing back. Thorn lowered his voice. “I came to see you as soon as I had served my time. I sat up on that hill above your place — you know, the rocky one where we caught the snake — and I watched you. You were working with your horses, talking to your daddy, and you seemed so happy. All the time in prison, all I could remember was the way you looked as you testified against me. That sad look in your brown eyes, the anguish in your face. After a year, that sorrow was all scrubbed away.”

  “You came and saw me.” She repeated it as if she couldn’t believe it.

  “Yeah.”

  “And sat up on the hill and thought I looked happy.” She looked right at him.

  He saw the old lines of strain settled onto her face as if they were familiar friends.

  “Maybe you should have taken a closer look.” She pointed to her expression.

  “Maybe so, but I wanted you so bad, Rose. So bad.” He pressed his hand to his heart.

  “You resisted, I guess.” She stared at his chest as if wondering if he had a heart. “You never even let me know you were there.”

  “What did I have to offer you? I wasn’t going to settle down on the family ranch and chase after cows. I wanted adventure and excitement — that’s why I got into trouble in the first place.” He scooted close to her and stroked her cheek. “You know it’s true. Don’t you?”

  She didn’t look at him, but she nodded. “I know it’s true.”

  “I’d already joined the Texas Rangers, and that was right for me.”

  She slapped his hand away. “But you could have told me you were there on that hill.”

  “We were going to fight Indians, and I didn’t even know if I’d come out alive. Maybe I did the wrong thing — I was young and pretty stupid.”

  “Pretty stupid?”

  “Okay, really stupid.” He owed her that, he supposed. “But I thought that if I got close enough to you, I’d have to have you, and then what would your life have been?”

  “It would have been my life. I would have chosen it. I wouldn’t be some dried-up old maid waiting for her sweetheart to return from … from gallivanting around the countryside having a whale of a good time.” She came up on her knees and glared into his eyes. “I can’t marry a man who doesn’t trust me to know my own mind.”

  “Dang.” Astonished, he scooted over in the grass beside her. “You’re mad because I did the right thing and left you with your parents.”

  “You left me alone.”

  “And I was feeling noble and honorable and trying to ignore all the sniffles and tears.”

  “I wasn’t crying,” she snapped.

  “No, I was.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Crying? Thorn had been crying the day he’d ridden away from her?

  It broke Rose’s heart to think of him — young, with prison pallor, facing his first battle — and crying over her. Over Rose, who, until her parents died, had been comfortable and warm and, yes, happy.

  Maybe she understood him a little.

  But Thorn didn’t seem to be interested in her compassion. Once more, he looked around the canyon.

  It was empty now. Empty except for two people sitting and shivering in the strength of a gathering norther.

  He scanned the canyon rim, then cut a glance at Goliath, acting like he was trying to avoid his gaze. At last he asked diffidently, “Why didn’t you inquire about me?”

  She foundered. “Who would I ask?”

  A stupid question. He knew it. She knew it. But he answered patiently, “You could have inquired of my mama. She knew where I was and what I was doing, and I told her — in a moment of weakness, you understand — that if you ever wanted to know about me, she was to tell you the truth.”

  “How could I ask her?” For some reason, Rose thought the wind blew colder on her than on him. For some reason, the guilt that had haunted her for so many years returned. “I couldn’t even look your mother in the eye after sending you to prison.”

  He frowned. “Why not? My mama doesn’t approve of stealing, you know that. Why, if she’d caught me, she’d have switched me first and then sent me to prison.”

  “I know, but I was so afraid she hated me.” Rose dipped her head, and her voice got soft. “I was afraid she’d ask me why you’d taken it, and everybody in the county had already speculated that you’d taken it because I … didn’t give you what you wanted.”

  “You didn’t want my mother to ask you what happened.” He wiped his hand across his mouth as if he tasted something sour. “You were ashamed of what happened?”

  “I wasn’t at the time. But after Patrick came in, it seemed … dirty.”

  “Dirty.”

  She had the feeling she was scrambling to retrieve his good opinion of her, and with more honesty than sense, she added, “Then you went to prison, and I didn’t dare think about it. Then you got out and didn’t come home, and I refused to think about it. Then … oh, Lord … I couldn’t help but think about it. All the time. I was in the hottest part of hell, and I was chained there alone.”

  “I was there, too. You couldn’t see me, because I was chained to the back of the same scorching rock that held you.” He took her hand and attempted a facsimile of his devil-may-care grin. “Actually, sending me to prison was the best thing you could have done for me. It knocked some sense into me.” She would have protested, but he continued, “Yes, it did. Knocked me plumb out of my smugness and made me realize what I had to lose. There were men in that prison that didn’t know any other life but crime. Men who had gangrene from bullet wounds and men who had consumption because of the damp and dark. It’s because of you that I met Major Jones and joined the Rangers. I owe you a debt of gratitude for that.”

  That seemed so horrible, and yet so funny, that she chuckled a little. “Some debt.”

  “But I kinda thought, when you never asked about me, that you didn’t care anymore. I kinda thought you despised
me as a thief and hated me for embarrassing you.” He touched her fingers and peered into her face. “That’s what I thought.”

  “I didn’t despise you, and I could never hate you.”

  “I didn’t know that.” He let go of her hand and stood up. “I’m not some gypsy fortune-teller who can read your mind.”

  “Well, no, but—”

  His voice got stronger. “I think you were a coward, Miss Rose Laura Corey, and about the most important thing in our lives.”

  She still thought he had to be joking.

  But he was walking away.

  She called, “You wanted me to go to your mother and ask her to send word to you that I wanted you? You wanted me to chase after you?” Scrambling to her feet, she hurried after him. “I couldn’t do that. It would have been too embarrassing for me to … “ She tried to match his long strides. “Surely you didn’t expect that I—”

  He kept walking. “I had no reason to despise you. You were the right virtuous Miss Rose Laura Corey. I was an ex-convict. I was in exile.”

  “I didn’t put you there.”

  “No, but you were the only one who could get me out. If your parents hadn’t died and left you in need, if you hadn’t needed a Texas Ranger” — his stride lengthened as if he couldn’t be bothered with her — “babe, I still wouldn’t be here, because you were too proud to ask for me.”

  She stopped and stared after him. The nerve! Acting as if their long separation was her fault.

  He rounded the corner into the other canyon and disappeared from sight.

  But she couldn’t let him get away with the last word. Running, she caught up with him as he led his horse away from the sheltering pine. “Ladies don’t ask men to … that is … ladies wait until they are asked.”

  “Ladies?” He swung himself into the saddle. “What good does it do to quote etiquette to me? I’m nothing but a rough ol’ Texas Ranger. And you’re a” — he looked her over — “lady.” Tipping his hat to her, he rode away, and she heard him call, “If you’d wanted me, you could have had me.”

  He galloped away, leaving her standing with her mouth dropped open.

  Then she raced back to Goliath. The noble stallion was patient as she mounted him using the rails on the corral, and although he wore neither saddle nor bridle, he knew where she wanted to go — after Thorn, wherever he was going.

  She caught sight of him and his stallion in the distance as they topped hills and followed trails … and before too long she realized he was returning to her place.

  Why? What was he expecting from her? An explanation? An apology? Because she hadn’t chased after him like every other woman in the world? Because she was a lady?

  By the time she reached the Corey Ranch, she was thoroughly angry and thoroughly windblown, and she slammed into the stable without a thought to disturbing the horses. Finding Thorn feeding the neglected ponies did nothing to improve her mood. Thanking him seemed like more graciousness than she could manage right then. Instead she swung down off Goliath and shouted, “I suppose you would say that ladies don’t breed, raise, and break horses.”

  As quiet as she was loud, he answered, “I would say that it’s not horses or proper etiquette that makes a lady, but a kind and loving heart.”

  Which knocked the indignation right out of her. Was she a lady? She’d always thought so, but right now she wasn’t being kind and loving.

  She was being petty and vengeful.

  Leading Goliath to his stall by his forelock, she groomed him before replying, “My mama used to say that ladies do the right thing, whether it’s the proper thing or not. She said ladies try to see things the way other folks see them before making judgments.”

  Thorn leaned over the gate. “I always liked your mama. Did she ever say anything about folks who make mistakes?”

  “That they ought to learn from them.”

  “I think that could be us.” Presenting his open, callused palm, he said, “How about we learn together?”

  She looked at the hand and looked at him. It was easy to love a man who could admit he’d made a mistake.

  She hoped it was easy to love a woman who made them, too. Putting her hand in his, she said, “I’d like that.”

  He tugged her to the gate and helped her out of the stall.

  They stood looking at each other, half-shy and all hungry.

  “Will you marry me?” he asked, plain and simple.

  Plain and simple, she answered, “I’d be honored.”

  Then they were in each others’ arms. The straw crackled beneath them as they sank to the floor, kissing like long-lost lovers.

  Which they were, Thorn decided, looking around for a place. The stalls all contained horses, the stable equipment posed a hazard to the wild coupling he imagined. “Someday,” he grumbled as he hefted her in his arms, “we’re going to make love in this stable. But for now, we’ll use your bed.”

  He stepped outside.

  The wind took their breath away. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

  He tucked Rose close and ran for the wide porch of the house. He clattered up the stairs before he realized … there were horses tethered to the rails.

  “Dognation,” he said. “Rose, those horses! They’re Sonny’s. Sue Ellen must have come in with him. We’ve got company!”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Rose’s flushed, hopeful face fell, and she looked more dismayed than Thorn felt.

  But Thorn had no time to plan evasive action.

  Sue Ellen must have seen them running across the yard, for from the door she screeched, “You all have an announcement to make?”

  Rose’s arms tightened around his neck.

  “I’ll give up drinking and fighting and wild women for you, Rose.” Thorn let her feet drop to the ground. “But at times like these, I don’t know if I can give up swearing.”

  “Try.” Rose patted him sympathetically before she went into Sue Ellen’s embrace. “Yes, we’re going to be married.”

  “I knew it. I knew it!” Sue Ellen’s wild enthusiasm contrasted with Rose’s quieter pleasure. “I feel like an old-fashioned matchmaker.”

  Thorn held the door for the ladies, then followed them inside.

  “Oh, you are.” Sonny had his lard butt seated right in the best chair in Rose’s parlor. “Did you two get your differences settled?”

  “We got everything settled.” Thorn glared. “Without your help.”

  “Don’t know about that. That was my gun you shot,” Sonny said.

  “Sonny told me all about it.” Thrilled, Sue Ellen clasped her hands at her bosom. “You two men are so brave.”

  Thorn and Rose exchanged questioning glances.

  Before they could ask what Sonny’s contribution had been, Sonny asked hastily, “So, Thorn, if you’re not a Texas Ranger, how’re you going to earn a living?”

  Thorn leaned one shoulder against the wall. “I guess I’m going to dance in Rose’s saloon.”

  “What?” Sonny yelped.

  “And Sue Ellen’s going to be my first customer in the saloon.” Rose leaned, too, faced Thorn and smiled.

  Sue Ellen giggled, and when Sonny glared, she giggled again.

  “Women aren’t interested in seeing a man dance like a … a floozy.” Sonny obviously wanted to be derisive. He succeeded in sounding weak and confused.

  “You’re right, sugar. I’m only interested in seeing you dance.” Sitting on the arm of the chair, Sue Ellen walked her fingers up his shirt buttons. “Won’t you dance for me, you sweet thing?”

  A flush started up Sonny’s neck and flooded his face.

  “Come to think of it, Rose” — Thorn stroked his stubbly cheeks — “I guess ladies don’t open saloons with dancing boys.”

  “I suspect I’ll be wanting to keep your dancing for myself, too.” Still smiling, Rose sat down on the settee, tugged off her boots, and sighed with pleasure. “The saloon will have to wait.”

  “Since I’ve got no saloon to work in, I
guess I’ll have to live here on the Corey Ranch with Rose and breed horses. Horses and … maybe some babies. Huh, Rose?” Thorn was asking a serious question of her.

  Rose gave the perfect answer. She blushed and looked at her wiggling toes. “Yes, Thorn. I’d like that.”

  “So when’s the wedding?” Sue Ellen demanded.

  Thorn shrugged. “Tomorrow we’ll go down to Fort Davis and find ourselves a Justice of the Peace.”

  The two women cried “No!” together.

  Bewildered, Thorn looked from one to the other.

  Sonny cackled like an old hen. “You dreamer. You crazy dreamer.”

  “Why not?” Thorn asked.

  “You’re not sneaking off and depriving us of the wedding we’ve been waiting on for years.” Sue Ellen sounded determined. “It’ll be the event of the year.”

  Thorn tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Is that what you want?” he asked Rose.

  “No, not a fancy wedding.” She smiled shyly. “But I would like to be married by the preacher.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Of course she would. She was a good, church-going woman.

  “And don’t you think your family would like to be there?” Rose asked.

  “My mother would skin me alive if she missed it,” Thorn admitted. His mother was a good, church-going woman, too.

  Which meant henceforth Thorn would be a good, church-going man.

  It wasn’t so bad. He’d gone when he was a kid, and sometimes as a Ranger, he’d slipped in for the occasional service — being shot at made a man think about stuff like God and religion. Anyway, going to church would make Rose happy, and that was what he intended to do.

  “There you have it!” Sue Ellen said in triumph. “We’ll have a Christmas wedding right here in the parlor. Everybody’ll come. You’ll see.”

  “If we wait that long, first baby’s going to come early.” Thorn sat beside Rose and tugged at his boot.

  Sue Ellen grabbed his arm. “Don’t you sit down there and make yourself comfortable. You haven’t got no cotton-patch license, and you’re not staying the night until you two are hitched.”