A Texan's Honor

by Leigh Greenwood

  He’d conquered Texas. He would conquer Boston and Abbott & Abercrombie, too.

  “Miss Emily could use some help from a man like you right about now.”

  Bertie’s voice jerked him out of his brown study. “If she needs more than her father and Lonnie, I’m sure Charlie and Ida would be glad to help.”

  “It was a sad day when they left,” Bertie said. “A huge mistake, too. Big ranchers don’t like little ranchers setting up in the middle of their land. Whenever there’s rustling, it’s the little ranchers they think are doing it.”

  Bret had seen it before. The small rancher was threatened or beaten, his property burned or torn down, herds scattered or butchered, water holes poisoned, dams destroyed, families terrorized. He hoped nothing like that would happen to Charlie’s family.

  “Has there been much rustling?” Bret asked.

  “There’s always rustling. The Yankees don’t have a lock on thieves.”

  “That’s all the more reason for Emily to sell the ranch and move to Boston. Her money will be safer in a bank.”

  Bertie shook a big wooden spoon at him. “Neither Miss Emily nor her money will be safe unless you marry her.”

  Bret choked, spraying coffee all over the table. Bertie wiped it up without batting an eyelash.

  “No point in acting surprised,” she said. “I know you like her. I can see it in the way you look at her.”

  Bret struggled to recover his composure. “Emily doesn’t like me and refuses to move to Boston. Seems to me that puts it out of the question.”

  Bertie put her hands on her hips and gave him the kind of look she’d give a particularly dumb child. “Anybody with one eye and half sense can see she likes you just as much. And she needs a man who won’t take advantage of her.”

  “I’m sure she can find—”

  “How’s she going to find anybody stuck out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  “That’s just why she should go to Boston.”

  Bertie harrumphed and favored Bret with a frown. “You belong in Texas, and Miss Emily needs a husband to take care of her. Seems to me like that would make everybody happy.”

  Feeling more than a little stunned, Bret laughed and said, “My Uncle Silas and Cousin Joseph wouldn’t agree with that at all.”

  “Is he the same Joseph who’s always writing Miss Emily?”

  “Does he write often?” Bret knew that Joseph and Emily had exchanged a few letters over the years, but nothing that would qualify as always writing. He wondered how much his uncle had been keeping from him.

  “This last year there’s been a letter from him every time the mail comes from Fort Worth. Miss Emily brought one back this time, too.”

  Emily hadn’t mentioned that. Bret was certain Joseph had told her why he was coming. Since that wasn’t a secret, why hadn’t she said anything about the letter?

  “I don’t like that man.” Bertie shook an accusing finger at Bret. “Miss Emily read me some of his letters. He’s encouraging her to do what she wants, not to be swayed by other people’s arguments. Since her father and his father both want Emily to go to Boston, that doesn’t sound right to me. He told her not to trust you, either.”

  Bret would have assumed that if Joseph was writing Emily, it would be to encourage her to come to Boston. He’d also be doing everything he could to look good in her eyes. It was possible that Bertie had misunderstood what Joseph wrote, but he doubted it. From his limited experience, Bertie was a smart woman who saw right to the heart of things.

  “Do you think I’m trustworthy?” Bret asked.

  Bertie favored him with another of those hands-on-hips, you-poor-dumb-thing looks. “Do you think I’d be encouraging you to make up to Emily if I didn’t?”

  “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “You’re acting like a lawyer who’s afraid to say anything for fear somebody will expect him to mean it. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t know you and Emily liked each other. And I wouldn’t have said anything even then if her pa wasn’t so close to dying. With the rustling and rebranding going on, it’s as clear as the nose on your face she’s got to marry somebody. I don’t know as much about you as I’d like, but you’ve got to be better than Lonnie or that cousin of yours.” She favored Bret with a fierce glare. “And if you weren’t, I’d make sure you changed your ways or was awful sorry you hadn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t be living up to that trust if I tried to take advantage of Emily while she was in a difficult situation.”

  “How is telling a woman you love her taking advantage?”

  Good question.

  “Telling Emily I love her would be a lie. I do like her, but I barely know her. If I were to decide I wanted to marry her, I would be subverting the reason my uncle sent me here. I’d have to let everybody know my goals had changed.”

  “Would you do that if you loved her?”

  Chapter Ten

  Bret studied the night sky glittering with thousands of stars. After so many years in Boston, it was easy to forget the Texas sky seemed endless, especially at night. Sam Abercrombie had built his house on a flat-topped hill, and the sky seemed to enclose Bret on all sides. The coolness of the night air helped to dissipate some of the heat Bertie’s comments had generated. He’d managed to avoid answering her last question, but he couldn’t avoid answering it for himself.

  He wasn’t in love with Emily. He was attracted to her and liked her, but that wasn’t love. Any man who married her would have to love her enough to be very patient and understanding. Emily was a lot like Isabelle—she had a mind of her own. Even though Isabelle and Jake squabbled, they shared the same vision. Emily’s vision could hardly have been further from what Bret wanted, what he’d worked so hard for the last six years to attain. It wasn’t out of the question that he could love Emily. It was just that he didn’t. Considering everything, that was for the best.

  Which brought him to the problem of how he felt about being in Texas again. He’d never wanted to stay in Texas. All of his plans had been built around his life in Boston. Yet the moment he’d entered Texas a few days ago, everything felt different.

  And nothing had changed since.

  He felt comfortable on a horse, pleasantly surprised that all the skills, the little bits of knowledge required to know how to ride really well, came back without any effort. He’d enjoyed working with the piebald. The rope had felt good in his hands; he’d relished wrestling the calf to the ground. He hadn’t used his body that way in years, and it almost ached with pleasure. Even the clothes felt more comfortable than the suits he wore every day. He felt as if his life had been turned upside down without his knowing how or why.

  Maybe he was simply tired and frustrated—tired because he’d worked so hard and frustrated because his uncle still hadn’t looked at his recommendations—but this feeling of dissatisfaction had more than that behind it. Now that he thought back on it, it had started before he reached Texas. It had started when he finished his plan. It was as if it had taken all his energy, leaving him with nothing more to give.

  After working late every night for more than a year, buoyed by the excitement of what he was doing, he’d suffered an emotional letdown when it was done. Having his uncle shove his plan aside just made the dissatisfaction worse. Only Rupert and his grandmother’s support had kept him from tearing the whole thing up. But if he really had to pin his reaction down to one thing, it would be his uncle’s parting comment.

  What if I can’t bring her back?

  Then don’t come back yourself.

  Everything he’d done had been for naught. He was still where he had been six years ago.

  Okay, so Boston wasn’t going to be the big success he’d hoped for, but did that mean he wanted to move back to Texas? He had enough experience to get another job up North. Some of his uncle’s competition would be thrilled to get their hands on his recommendations. In the cutthroat world of business, people would pay well for information like that.

>   But he had developed the plan in order to gain recognition and acceptance for his contribution. No wonder he’d been terribly disappointed when it didn’t come. But that still didn’t explain why he felt as if he’d come home when he reached Texas.

  Could he fall in love with Emily? What would he do if he did? For as long as he could remember, he’d been focused on returning to Boston and convincing his family to accept him as an equal. That hadn’t happened yet, so his plan for his life hadn’t developed beyond that point. He’d always wanted a wife and family, but those pleasures had been put off until he achieved his primary goal.

  Now he had to face the possibility that he’d never reach it. That thought should have crushed him, because it meant he was a failure. He was frustrated, annoyed, even angry, but he didn’t feel like a failure. Why not?

  He could have understood it if he had an alternate plan, a second goal, but he didn’t. Everything depended on his success in convincing Emily to move to Boston, on convincing his uncle to implement his plan. What happened if he couldn’t do either? He’d never allowed himself to consider the possibility of failure before. Did the way he felt now mean he’d changed, that failure wouldn’t be the end of the world? And if that were true, what had brought about the change?

  Fortunately, he didn’t have to go back to Boston right away. By sending him to Texas, his uncle had unknowingly given him the opportunity to find the answers he needed in order to discover what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

  “Dad had a restless night,” Emily told Bret at breakfast the next morning. “I don’t think he’s any better than he was yesterday.”

  She didn’t look like she’d slept at all. Bret had offered to help with her father, but he wasn’t surprised when she’d refused.

  “When do you plan to take him to Fort Worth to see a doctor?”

  “Mr. Abercrombie won’t have anything to do with doctors,” Bertie said from her position at the stove. Because of her father’s illness, Emily was eating in the kitchen with Bret.

  “Mama was in a lot of pain before she died,” Emily explained. “Dad never forgave the doctors for not being able to help her.”

  “Doctors aren’t miracle workers,” Bret said, “but they might be able to help your father.”

  “I know,” Emily said, “but Dad’s stubborn. Besides, I don’t think he’d survive the trip to Fort Worth in a wagon. He can’t ride, and I’d have to tie him to his seat if we took a buggy.”

  “Mr. Abercrombie would rather die than put up with that,” Bertie declared.

  Emily managed a weak smile, tilted her head in Bertie’s direction. “Mama used to say Bertie and Dad were cut out of the same block of wood.”

  “An oak doesn’t blow over in the wind,” Bertie said. “Its roots go straight down and take a real good hold.”

  Bret was no expert on the root structure of trees, but he did know Sam’s hold on life was loosening. That made it all the more imperative that Emily come to some decision about her future. But the very fact of her father’s illness made it inappropriate for him to push for that decision just now. Once Emily was forced to make decisions about the future, maybe she’d be more willing to listen.

  “Are you going to work with your horses this morning?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid to leave Dad. I’m thinking I ought to send them back to their owners. I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back to them.”

  “Would you trust me to work with them?”

  It was clear from her expression that Bret’s question had caught her unprepared. He couldn’t decide whether she looked surprised, shocked, or upset. When she didn’t give him an answer right away, he figured she was looking for a polite way to refuse him.

  “Sounds like a good idea to me.” Bertie had moved from the stove to stand next to the table. “If he can handle that piebald, he can handle the rest of them.”

  “That’s okay, Bertie,” Bret said. “If she feels uncomfortable—”

  “No, no, that’s not it.” Emily’s guilty smile confused him further. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to ask you to do that without sounding like I was taking advantage of you.”

  “A woman’s supposed to take advantage of a man.” Bertie moved back to her stove. “What else are they good for?”

  Bret could think of several answers but decided to keep them to himself. He liked having Bertie on his side.

  “I’m a little rusty, but I think things will come back,” Bret said. “I can’t sit around all day doing nothing.”

  “But you need help with the piebald.”

  “Maybe you can let me have Jem for the day. I want to ride over some more of the ranch this afternoon, and I need somebody to show me around.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “It’s unusual for someone to simply rebrand calves. Most of the time they want steers ready for market so they can sell them quickly. Whoever is doing this will have to come forward to claim the calves when they’re ready for market in three or four years.”

  “Dad said he didn’t understand that, either,” Emily said. “He wanted me to send Lonnie out to see what he could find.”

  “I didn’t mean to be taking over Lonnie’s work,” Bret said.

  “I’d like for you to do it,” Emily said. “With Tom gone to hire more hands, we’re short right now.”

  Tom had ridden out last night with authorization to hire four more hands. Just before he left, Bret had given him a telegram to send to his adopted brothers, Hawk and Zeke. He had a feeling he was going to need someone he could depend on to be on his side.

  Emily took a bite of sausage, washed it down with coffee, and got to her feet. “I’d better go back to Dad.”

  Bertie blocked Emily’s path. “You haven’t finished your breakfast.”

  “I’ve been away from Dad too long.”

  “Then take your breakfast with you.” Bertie pointed to Emily’s plate. “I won’t have you looking like death warmed over. And that plate had better be clean when I come after it.”

  “Just in case you think I run the house, you’ve just seen proof I don’t,” Emily said with a wan smile at Bret.

  Bertie gave Emily a stern look. “Don’t you go wearing yourself out. If he takes a nap, you take one, too.”

  Emily agreed to all Bertie’s strictures, picked up her plate, and left.

  “She’s no more going to listen to me than if I was talking to the chickens,” Bertie fumed.

  “I’d like to help with Mr. Abercrombie,” Bret said.

  Bertie turned her grim gaze on him. “Then make Miss Emily forget her worries for a few hours each day.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “If you can’t figure that out with all your looks, then you’re not half as smart as that piebald.”

  Bret couldn’t suppress a smile. “I don’t think she’s in the mood for romance just now.”

  Bertie looked at him like he was so dumb that talking to him was a waste of her time. “Every woman’s got time for a good-looking man if he has a little sense and can think of something besides horses and whiskey.”

  It was impossible for Bret to ignore the irony of the situation. His uncle had given him strict instructions to stay away from Emily romantically. Now Bertie was ordering him to do just the opposite.

  “I don’t think she’ll leave her father’s side,” Bret said.

  “I’ll get her out of that room. You just make sure she doesn’t come back for an hour or two. Do you think you can manage that?” Bertie acted as if she were talking to a troublesome child.

  “I’ll try. Now, before you think of something else to get me into trouble, I’d better get started with the horses.”

  “How can entertaining Miss Emily for a few hours get you into trouble?”

  “Just talking to a woman can get you into trouble. Making her think you like her is the same as putting a noose around your neck.”

  “Or shackles on your legs?” Bertie said an
d grinned.

  “That, too.” Bret decided to escape while he could. Being around Bertie was not good for his health.

  “What are we looking for?” Jem asked Bret.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t see the logic in what we’ve found so far. There must be something we’re missing.”

  “I guess we should have been riding out every day,” Jem said.

  “You haven’t been?”

  “Lonnie said we could take it easy for a little while. We’d just been over the whole place branding calves. He said there wasn’t nothing likely to go wrong this quick.”

  Bret didn’t agree with that, but he could understand the reasoning. The men and horses must have been tired after the work of branding the new calves and cutting out and road branding the steers to be sent to market. Most ranchers depended on their cows to take care of themselves for much of the year. Some even dismissed their crews entirely during the winter months.

  “We did ride out some to keep an eye on things,” Jem said, “but there’s not much to do in the summer.”

  They had spent the last several hours checking along the creek bottoms and anywhere else trees grew close enough together to offer shade. It was a hot day and most of the cows had sought out shady spots to chew their cuds and wait for the cool of evening before venturing out to graze again. Because the cows weren’t in plain sight, it was difficult to tell if the count was down or to gauge how many calves had been rebranded.

  Whoever was rebranding the calves only did it in one part of the ranch, the part that hadn’t been ridden over since the roundup. It had to be an inside job. And what really worried Bret was the knowledge that it would have been easiest for the foreman to arrange everything and escape suspicion.

  “Was there any problem with rustling right after your boss got sick?” Bret asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Jem said. “There was some people in here at first wanting to buy the place, but most of them stopped coming when Miss Emily told ’em she meant to run the place herself.”