A Texan's Honor

by Leigh Greenwood

  She remembered the cabs from her trip to Boston: smelly, cramped carriages pulled by horses whose iron-shod hooves made a terrible noise on the cobblestones.

  “My parents are dead.” Bret looked away. “They never had a house in the country.”

  “I’m sorry.” She’d lost her own mother and was facing her father’s death, so she thought she would have known how he felt, but he seemed angry rather than bereaved. “Was it recent?”

  “My mother died when I was born, my father when I was seven.”

  It must have been difficult to grow up without parents. “You were lucky to have a family to take care of you.”

  The look he gave her when he turned to face her was so full of tightly held anger, she nearly recoiled.

  “My family didn’t want me. I was put in an orphanage.”

  There were more ways to stumble when talking to this man than holes in a prairie dog town. She pulled her horse to a halt, waved Lonnie and Jem on when they came abreast of her. “I’ve done nothing but embarrass myself since I met you. I think it’s time you told me about yourself. I don’t like constantly saying the wrong thing,” she added when he didn’t respond. “I’m not cruel or insensitive.”

  Bret’s sudden smile was unexpected. “I never thought you were. I’m not angry with you.”

  “Look, I’m a strong-minded woman who likes to get her way. I’m willing to accept all the difficulties that come with that, but I’m not willing to take the blame for something I didn’t do.”

  “We’d better go,” Bret said. “Lonnie will be upset if we lag too far behind.”

  “I’ll ride if you’ll talk.”

  “Okay, but no digging for details.”

  She’d worry about details later. Right now all she wanted was to know enough about him to keep from making embarrassing comments.

  “My mother’s family disowned her when she married an idealist who cared more for his causes than her family’s approval. They hated the publicity he said was necessary to advance his causes. After my mother died, he went south to agitate against slavery. Seven years later, he was hanged in Texas for helping slaves escape. After my father’s death, my uncle refused to take custody of me. The war had started by then, so rather than travel back to Boston, I was put into an orphanage in Texas.”

  “That must have been awful,” Emily said.

  “I was awful,” Bret said. “I was angry at the whole world. I ran away, got into fights, stole, lied, did everything I could to make the people at the orphanage throw me out. They did, and I lived on the streets for over a year before Isabelle found me.”

  Now she understood what he meant when he said he knew all the tricks of trying to con people. “Who is Isabelle?”

  “A wonderful woman who rounded up eleven orphans nobody wanted and gave us a home and all the love we could want.”

  “She must have been rich to do all that by herself.”

  Bret chuckled, smiling at what must have been a sweet memory. “She didn’t have a penny. She was a teacher who’d been an orphan herself. She was taking us to work for some farmers, but we ended up at Jake’s ranch.”

  He smiled so broadly, she almost asked him what made him so happy.

  “You never saw two people go at each other like they did. They were at it, hammer and tongs, practically from dawn to dusk. Jake wanted to turn us into cowhands, but Isabelle insisted we needed love and understanding. Jake got his cowhands, we got love and understanding, and they got married and adopted us. They gave us a home, a feeling of belonging, a sense that no matter what happened, there was a place we’d always be welcome.”

  Emily couldn’t imagine anyone being brave enough—or crazy enough—to adopt eleven orphans.

  Bret turned to look at her. “I lived and worked on that ranch for nine years.” He urged his horse into a fast canter. “We’d better catch up before Lonnie does permanent damage to his neck looking over his shoulder.”

  Emily wondered what kind of man she’d come up against. If he had worked on a ranch for nine years, he probably knew more than how to ride. She also wanted to know more about Isabelle, Jake, and the other orphans. She wanted to know why he had left people who loved him for relatives who had turned their backs on him.

  Her curiosity was not to be satisfied that day. They stopped several times to give the horses a rest and give themselves a chance to stretch their legs. Bret would unsaddle his horse immediately, find some graze, and stake both his horses while he checked the packhorse to make sure the suitcases were still secure and that there were no creases in the blanket that might cause sores.

  “Jake always said if we took care of our horse first, it would take care of us,” Bret said when she asked him why he was so careful with his horses. “I used to spend as much as a week away from the ranch by myself.”

  Bret spent much of the rest of the day telling her about Boston, but it didn’t feel as if he was putting pressure on her. He talked about the beauty of the harbor, the museums and theaters, the shops, the beautiful residential areas, even about sailing in the bay.

  She noticed the conspicuous absence of the names of any young women. The only people he mentioned with affection were his grandmother and a cousin, Rupert Swithin.

  “I never knew either of my grandmothers,” Emily said. “Your grandmother sounds nice.”

  “I had a letter she wrote my father when he was in Virginia, asking him to let me stay with her until he could settle down. I read it over and over until it fell apart,” Bret said. “When I finally got the courage to write her, she was happy to hear from me. I’d been content on the Broken Circle ranch, but I always felt like my true home was with my real family.” He turned to look at her. “Now you know everything. It’s your turn at the confessional.”

  Emily had the feeling she’d seen only a quick overview of the path his life had taken. It seemed impossible that he could be orphaned so tragically, spurned by his family, then leave his adopted family for the very people who had cast him out, without a stronger reason than a single letter from his grandmother.

  “There’s hardly anything to tell,” she said. “I’ve spent most of my life in Texas. My mother died when I was nine, and I’ve been terrorizing my father ever since.”

  “The strong-minded woman who likes to get her way.”

  Emily laughed. “Dad would like to keep me a little girl, but I took over the household years ago. I know he’s worried about what will happen to me after he dies, but I don’t understand why he thinks I’d want to move to Boston and allow a stranger to run my life.”

  “It’s doesn’t sound very reasonable when you put it that way.”

  After a whole day of trying to find a way past his reserve, she felt he might finally be ready to open up a little, but they were approaching Charles and Ida Wren’s ranch. As much as she wanted to find out more about him, she would be relieved to get out of the saddle.

  “This is where we’ll spend the night,” she said when the modest ranch house came into view.

  “It doesn’t look big enough for all of us.”

  “They have beds for you and me, but Lonnie and Jem will sleep out.”

  “Do the Wrens have any children?”

  “Three boys and two girls.”

  She could tell he was thinking about something, but he didn’t get to mull it over for long. As soon as they came in sight of the house, she heard a yell. Moments later, three children on horseback appeared from behind the house and raced toward them down a well-used trail.

  “That’s Joey, Buddy, and Clara,” Emily said, breaking into a smile. “Charlie Wren used to work for us. The kids were always sneaking up to the house when Ida’s back was turned.”

  “I bet you encouraged them.”

  There he went with that strange look again.

  “It is lonely sometimes living so far from other people.”

  “I’ll remember that when you try to convince me you never get lonely for company.”

  She thought at first
he was teasing her, but his eyes had a faraway look that told her he was thinking about something far removed from her or the three kids racing to meet her, arms flailing, laughter filling the air as they each tried to be the first to reach her. Joey won.

  “He always takes the fastest horse,” Clara said, pulling her horse up so close to Emily their boots brushed against each other.

  “I can’t help it if Bounder’s faster than Scout,” Joey declared.

  “Mama said we could sleep out,” Buddy said, his eyes wide with excitement.

  Emily did her best to listen to all three of them at once. From the way they carried on, you would have thought they hadn’t seen her in years. Watching their eager faces as they crowded around reminded her of how much she’d missed them since Charlie had bought his own ranch. They were always so full of energy, excitement about little things, anticipation of any promised treat.

  “Are you the man who’s going to take Emily to Boston?” Clara asked Bret.

  Bret’s faraway expression had turned almost sad, but it disappeared the moment Clara spoke to him.

  “Does that make me a bad man?” he asked, a teasing smile transforming his face.

  “I don’t want her to leave,” Clara stated.

  “Me, neither,” Joey and Buddy said in unison.

  “Am I going to have to stay awake tonight to keep from getting tied up and dumped in a deep well?” Bret asked.

  “Pop would blister our backsides if we did anything like that,” Joey said.

  “Good. I’m tired and I’m looking forward to sleeping soundly all night.”

  “You’re getting our bed,” Buddy said. “Timmy has to sleep with Pop and Mom, but Joey and me get to sleep out with Lonnie and Jem.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of wolves and coyotes?” Bret asked.

  “Nobody’s afraid of coyotes,” Joey said, as though the question was preposterous.

  Emily was intrigued to see that in less than a minute, Joey and Buddy were riding on either side of Bret and chattering away like they were old friends. He had them laughing so much, even Clara turned her attention to him. Emily pulled up in front of the ranch house completely deserted by her escorts. Ida came out of the house to meet her.

  “Come in out of the heat,” she said to Emily before turning to her sons. “Joey, you and Buddy help Lonnie and Jem with the horses. Clara, you watch Becky and Tim while I see to Emily and her guest.”

  “I’ll help with the horses,” Bret said. “You wouldn’t have to go to all this bother if it weren’t for me.”

  “Charlie would have my head if I let you stable your own horse,” Ida said.

  “I promise to protect you from Charlie if need be, but I would like to take care of my horses. I’ll be living on a ranch for the next while, so I might as well start brushing up on my skills.”

  Bret dismounted, and before Lonnie could make his way over, he’d helped Emily dismount. Then he went off to the stables with the boys.

  “He’s not what I expected,” Ida said as she led Emily toward the house. “I don’t know when the boys have taken to anybody like that.”

  “He’s not what I expected, either,” Emily said, “but I think he has a special gift for boys. When we left Fort Worth, he had an orphan boy begging him not to forget to come back. He’s trying to convince the boy to go live with the couple who adopted him.”

  “I thought he was a nephew of the partner in that company.”

  “He is, but they abandoned him after his father died.”

  The two women went into the small parlor and sat down. “I’m surprised he went back to his family,” Ida said.

  “He hasn’t told me why he left Texas, but I mean to find out.”

  Ida leaned toward her friend and grinned conspiratorially. “I never thought he’d be so handsome. My breath caught in my throat when he rode up.”

  “You should have seen him when he came to dinner last night. For a moment I thought I might like to go to Boston after all.”

  The two women laughed. “Listen to us,” Ida said, “acting like two silly girls over a handsome man. Charlie would have a fit if he knew.”

  They enjoyed another good laugh.

  “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again,” Emily said. “With Dad being sick and trying to send me off to Boston, I haven’t had a good laugh in months. And don’t you tell me I shouldn’t stay on that ranch after he dies. We’d never see each other if I went to Boston.”

  Ida had been like a mother to Emily during the time her own mother was sick and the first years after her death. Emily had been pleased when a small inheritance enabled Charlie to give up his job as their foreman to buy his own ranch, but she’d sorely missed the company of Ida and the children.

  “I do worry about you,” Ida said. “I know how lonely it can be out here.”

  “So do I.”

  “Of course, if you could convince that handsome young man to stay . . .”

  “Don’t even think of it,” Emily said, covering her mouth to keep from laughing. “He might have grown up in Texas, but you should have seen him last night drinking brandy like he’d been born to it.”

  “You’re rich enough to buy him all the bandy he can drink.”

  “Ida Wren!” Emily exclaimed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were suggesting that I marry him.”

  “Well, he is mighty attractive.”

  “I’m not sure I even want a husband, but if I did, I certainly would look for more than a handsome face.”

  “How about the rest of him?”

  Fortunately, Emily was spared having to explain her blushes by the noisy entrance of Bret accompanied by Joey and Buddy.

  “Mr. Nolan says he’s going to sleep out with us,” Joey exclaimed.

  “He’s got his own bedroll and everything,” Buddy added.

  “He said he thinks the sorrel mare’s colt is going to be faster than Bounder,” Joey said.

  “Your father will be delighted to hear that,” Ida said with a wink at her son. “He thinks the same. But you’re not to make Mr. Nolan feel guilty for putting you out of your bed.”

  “It’s something I haven’t done in a long time,” Bret said. “I used to like it.”

  The man was continually surprising Emily. He arrived without a hair out of place, then practically encouraged a dirty orphan to attach himself to him. At dinner he acted like an aristocrat, then turned up the next morning dressed like a cowhand. Now when he had a bed to sleep in, he’d decided to sleep out. And where had he found time to buy a bedroll? And why had he done it?

  “Now, I know you ladies probably have a lot to catch up on, so I asked the boys to show me around the ranch.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to rest up a bit before supper?”

  “I need to stretch my legs after being in the saddle all day.” He cast Emily an amused glance. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself by stumbling over my own feet.”

  “Supper will be ready in less than an hour.”

  “Just give me time to wash up.”

  “What do you make of that?” Ida asked after the door closed behind Bret and her sons.

  Chapter Five

  An hour later, after Emily had helped Ida and Clara get supper on the table, Emily was still distracted by Ida’s question. It seemed the longer she knew Bret, the less she understood about him. She’d come to consider herself something of an expert when it came to men. After all, she’d been surrounded by them all her life. She’d cataloged their strengths, memorized their faults, and worked out their patterns of behavior and the reasoning behind them. Bret didn’t fit any of her preconceptions about men.

  Her confusion had increased when Bret and Charlie came in for dinner. Charlie fitted perfectly into her schematic for the average male. He was better than most, but he was a Texas cowboy through and through. Now he was acting as if Bret was his best buddy.

  “I wish you could stay for a couple of days,” he was saying to Bret. “We could ride over the ran
ch and you could tell me what you think.”

  “All my experience is in the hill country,” Bret said. “I don’t know that I could help much. You don’t have all the same grasses and trees here.”

  How had he had time to learn which grasses grew in this area?

  “We have to worry about flash floods. You have to worry about getting enough rain,” Bret went on.

  “I guess it is different,” Charlie said, his enthusiasm undiminished, “but I figure any man who knows as much about horses and cows as you do has to know something about the land.”

  “Possibly, but I’m sure the ladies would like us to talk about something else. Like the excellent dinner you’ve prepared,” Bret said, turning to Ida.

  Ida looked pleased, but said, “How can you compare this with the suppers you have all the time in Boston?”

  “You have an exaggerated notion of how much I’m paid if you think I can afford to eat like this every evening.”

  There was plenty of food on the table—there had to be to feed eleven people—but it was ordinary fare of ham, roasted prairie hen, potatoes, beans, rice with beef gravy, canned peaches, hot bread with plenty of sweet butter, and a blackberry pie for dessert. The coffee was black and hot.

  “We eat stuff like this all the time,” Joey said. It was clear he didn’t see anything special about it.

  “My adopted mother couldn’t cook at all,” Bret said. “She didn’t even know you had to soak dried beans before you cook them.”

  “I know that,” Buddy said, “and I’m a boy.”

  “She’s a really good cook now,” Bret said, “but she made all the boys learn to cook, too.”

  “You’re not going to do that, are you?” Buddy asked his mother.

  She winked at Bret. “I think it’s a fine idea.” She looked at her husband, and her smile grew broader. “Then I can sit on the porch and smoke a pipe while you boys get supper ready.”

  Emily enjoyed listening to Ida and her family tease each other about the kinds of food they’d fix. Her description of the aprons she’d make for the boys, decorated with everything from flowers to bunny rabbits, brought forth howls of protest.

  Bret didn’t say anything but appeared to enjoy the fun. Every so often, Emily would notice his brows knit. She couldn’t tell if the memories brought up by being around the kids were good or bad, but it was clear that they had a profound effect on him.