by Jolene Faye
Texas Rose
By Jolene Faye
Copyright 2012 Jolene Faye
*Personal Note*
After reading several old western romances by Norah Hess, the story and characters of Texas Rose haunted my dreams. Pushing aside three other stories I'd been working on, Sybil and Cole just wouldn't stay away! I might be a simple country girl, but I'd be lost without my computer and internet, so most of my stories happen in modern times. Texas Rose however is based in the late 1800's (early 1900's) and is my first attempt at older western romance. Unlike my other stories, there was no place for the full, descriptive portrayals of the sexual intimacy in Texas Rose. I hope the readers enjoy Texas Rose as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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Texas Tornado
Texas Tides
Chapter One
The sting of the cold sleet burned against his face. Whirls of the frigid night air pierced through the thick snow and rain soaked clothing as he pulled his arm and the small satchel closer to his chest. The daunting weight of his exhausted eyelids hooded the sharpness of his deep green eyes turning to scan the path of darkness behind him. The gentle weight of the satchel strap rubbed against the frozen wet chafe around his neck and shoulder. Pulling the reins slowly with agonizing numb fingers, he eased the horse's steady gait and strained his ears against the slushing howl of wind and sleet. The loud, sudden roar of a gunshot drove his heels into the side of the horse. Wrapping his arm tightly over the satchel, he slapped the reins against the cold wet neck of his mare and thundered into the darkness. The crack of lighting landing not far ahead in his path of escape frightened the already tired and weak mare. Her hooves kicked defensively into the night air as she reared and dropped the weight of her rider to the think wet, snow covered ground. Frantic as the air rushed from his lungs at the frozen punch of the ground, he pulled the satchel tight once again, scooting his body against the large rocks just off the icy path. "Please, wait please! I have a ch-" his voice faded as the brute force of the rifle's butt slammed behind his ear. The glow of the torches' light dimmed as his crystal green eyes scanned one last time over the small hollow between the rocks then faded into darkness.
~*~ ~*~
Mary Elizabeth Delacroix had been the belle of the ball, literally, when Benjamin Reed first set his eyes on her. The beautiful daughter of a wealthy plantation owner in New Orleans, Mary Elizabeth had grown tired of the fancy parties her parents had always thrown, hoping she would find a suitable husband. With her deep Creole heritage, her dark brown hair and eyes against the golden honey tone of her skin melted Benjamin Reed's heart. Six years after their marriage and move to the northernmost part of Texas, the couple was blessed with a single daughter. Named after both her grandmothers, Sybil Elizabeth Reed was the light of Benjamin and Mary Elizabeth's lives. While Texas was still wild for the most part, the stretch of land Benjamin had turned into a large expanse of cattle ranch was strategically placed between two major towns with rail road depots. Quickly earning his prestige as one of the most predominate cattle ranchers, Benjamin doted on his wife and child. When Sybil was barely fourteen, she watched as Benjamin worked late into the night adding the large glass French doors from Mary Elizabeth's childhood home to the ranch. The doors and the long heavy mahogany table where the only remnants of the fire that had destroyed Mary Elizabeth's parents' home and taken their lives. Mary Elizabeth had expected two more children from her marriage to Benjamin, but with her frail health both had ended before the unborn could be delivered. The slow decline of her health and function began shortly after Sybil had turned sixteen. Though they had help on the ranch and Benjamin loved them both dearly, Sybil had been the main caregiver of her frail mother. Two long torturous years later when Mary Elizabeth's body finally waned and gave out, Sybil watched a part of her father die too.
Benjamin protested profusely, Sybil was already eighteen years of age and he did not want to be the reason she was still unwed or still hadn't gone off to the education her mother had planned before her passing. Deep down inside, she knew it was her own face that haunted her father the most in the year after her mother's death. Though she had inherited his deep golden hair, every other aspect of Sybil looked exactly like her mother. She could see the pain in her father's eyes looking into the mirror image of his late wife's soft brown eyes when he would look at her, his own daughter. The golden brown tint of her skin contrasted against the fairness of his just like her mother's did when they'd walk arm in arm into church. Benjamin Reed had always been the strongest, gentlest man she'd ever known, but without his Mary Elizabeth he wandered around the ranch most days like a ghost. The three years since they had lost Mary Elizabeth, Sybil stayed at the ranch and cared for her father. He had changed so much that Sybil could barely recognize or reason with him. His heavy drinking had started shortly after Mary Elizabeth's passing and Sybil knew without a doubt was the cause of the dwindling prosperity of the ranch.
She had heard the stories floating about town and the appearance of John Henry Horner around the ranch confirmed them. A little more than a year after her mother's passing, Sybil had been awoken by the loud ruckus of her father's drunken tirade coming from the parlor. Quickly wrapping her thick woolen robe around her as she stepped into her slippers, Sybil crept out of her bedroom to find a tall dark haired man lowering the slumped body of her father into a big chair in front of the fireplace. The liquor slurred yells of her father were unintelligible, but the loose swinging of his arms toward the dark haired man raised the hairs on the back of Sybil's neck. "Father," she exhaled loudly as she quickly crossed the room and knelt in front of him, ignoring the tall gentleman. As the heavy head of her father fell back and he passed out from drunkenness, Sybil stood and eyed the gentleman closely before speaking. He was tall, well-built and handsome, she thought. Near thirty, she assumed from the etched features of his face. His dark black hair curled under the brim of his solid black hat and the equally dark eyebrows seemed to frame the brilliant sparkle of his blue eyes. His groomed mustache and tailored suit might have suggested he was an upstanding gentleman, but something about the curl of his lips in the almost sinister sneer he wore made Sybil uneasy. Raising her hand to her chest, Sybil curled her fingers tightly in the plush wool of her robe and held the overlapping hems closed over her chest. The darkened gaze of his eyes drifted slowly up and down her frame as the sneer on his lips softened. Removing his hat he bowed slightly before offering his hand, "I'm John Horner, John Henry Horner. I'm a uh associate of your father's." His voice was slow and almost friendly as she slowly began to extend her hand to his. She had never been intimidated by any man before, but something in the expression that played behind his smile made Sybil drop her hand and turn toward her father once more. "Thank you for bringing my father home Mr. Horner. I really should get him to bed," she nodded softly without looking back into his eyes. As she slid her father's arm over her shoulder and hoisted him from the chair pulling him to his feet, she half turned toward the man and lifted her chin, "I'd assume you can find your way out."
After her first meeting with John Horner, Sybil was content to never see the man again. It wasn't until his visits to the ranch became more and more frequent that she probed her father about him. Benjamin had never let his wife nor daughter be concerned about the workings of the ranch or the cattle sales so it was a complete shock when he admitted to Sybil that Horner was now his partner. She had tried to pry into the association and why her father decided he needed a partner, especially one like John Horner. Sybil had known the sales had been suffering since his father's dependence on liquor seemed to cloud his judgmen
t and sense of duty, but she could not understand what a man like John Horner could offer her father. The men's closed door meetings often including shouting matches and one or the other leaving in a huff, slamming doors behind them. Perhaps it was money Horner had invested into the cattle, she hadn't been sure but sometimes she could make out parts of the arguments and those parts were always about money. Over a year had passed with her father and Horner in partnership, his increased presence at the ranch did little to settle Sybil's doubts and worries about the man, especially after avoiding his attempts to romance her several times. Most women she knew her age were well married and already started on families by twenty-two, but after Sybil's years of caring for her dying mother and now her distraught, drunken father, those type of things were the furthest from her mind. The very attempt of John Horner to flirt and court her turned Sybil's stomach and hardened her heart against the man. From the first night they had met, Sybil had stuck to the feelings she had about him and stayed as far away from him as possible.
Sybil shivered as the sobs of despair wracked her small frame. Pulling the warmth of the quilt over her shoulder, she lay curled in the softness of her father's bed. Her eyes welded closed behind tear swollen lids as the haunting sound of dirt hitting the wooden casket attacked her mind again. "Father," she stuttered through hiccup wracked sobs, inhaling deeply against the cold pillow still tainted with his smell. Even after two years of caring for and dealing the frailty of her mother before she finally passed, Sybil could not come to grips with the sudden death of her father. She often thought through the years of caring for her mother, she'd learned to deal with the impending grief of her mother's death over the course of the weakening of her fragile body. Also, she knew when the time came for her mother to leave them that she alone would have to be the one to care for her father. Watching his wife wither away from the beautiful woman he'd loved all his life had taken its toll on Benjamin Reed, but as she had done with her mother, Sybil was always there to take care of him. Who was going to take care of her now?