Beautiful Bandit (Lone Star Legends)

by Lough, Loree

  “And why’s that?”

  “I rather like Josh’s hat.” The woman’s gravelly laughter induced a giggle of her own. “Besides,” Kate added, “he has a gift when it comes to horses, but it still wouldn’t be a fair bet, considering all your experience.”

  “Three things to like about you already, and we’ve only just met.”

  Kate blinked and waited for the explanation that would surely follow.

  “That last remark proves you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. And it’s clear you aren’t one of the mindless ewes who’ll tack a bustle to your behind and frizz your bangs under a ridiculous hat just because some la-di-da designer from Europe says it’s fashionable.” Esther sat back and snickered. “Sorry about the little tirade, dearie, but you’ll find I’m not one to beat around the bush.”

  “A practice that’s a terrible waste of time, and unnecessarily hard on the shrubbery.” But Esther had named only two things. Not that Kate was counting.

  The older woman slapped her thigh. “I like you, Dinah Theodore. Not as much as my grandson does, but then, you’re his type, not mine.”

  Now, what had she meant by that?

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that you’ve turned my grandson’s head. The first gal to do it, I might add, since he buried Sadie.”

  If she’d ever felt more addle-brained, Kate couldn’t remember when. She sipped her lemonade and hoped she was bright enough to swallow it without choking on the pulp.

  “You did know that Josh’s wife died a few years back, right?”

  “Yes,” she said quietly, “and I was sorry to hear about it.”

  Esther exhaled a long sigh. “When I lost my Ezra, I was so miserable that I wanted to climb into the grave right alongside him.”

  Kate remembered quite vividly how unhappy Josh had looked while telling her that his wife had died delivering twins.

  “Josh took it hard, but he never grieved that way. Now, I don’t mean to say that losing Sadie didn’t pain him, because I’m sure he loved the dear girl.” Esther motioned Kate closer and whispered, “But loving her and being in love with her?” She clucked her tongue. “Two very different things, in this old woman’s book.”

  Suddenly, the room seemed hotter and stuffier than it had a moment ago, and the air felt thick, making it hard to breathe. Surely she’d misunderstood Esther, because Josh’s grandmother couldn’t have meant to imply that he’d fallen in love with her!

  “I know he sometimes has a standoffish way about him, and that he talks tough, and that the combination can make him seem like he has a heart of stone. But I know that boy better than most, and if you want my opinion, he behaves that way because he thinks it’s what folks expect of him.” Esther gave a little shrug. “That, and he probably figures, if he walks around like he doesn’t give a fig about anything, it’ll save him from having to explain how he really feels about things.” She paused. “And people.” The woman held a finger aloft. “But, believe you me, Dinah dear, that boy has a heart as big as Texas.” She aimed the finger in Kate’s direction. “So, you take care not to break it, you hear?”

  Not knowing what to say, Kate said nothing.

  Part of her didn’t want to believe Esther, because leaving here would be hard enough without the knowledge that Josh might have feelings for her. And part of her—a very large part—hoped it was true.

  For, from almost the moment she’d faltered into his camp, Kate had loved the mild-mannered cowboy who had changed her entire life with nothing more than a gentle offer of help.

  23

  Leaning against the bark of a towering elm, Josh pretended to inspect the long blade of grass he’d just plucked from the lawn. But it wasn’t the straw that captured his interest. Instead, he watched Dinah, standing alone in the shade of the hackberry beside the wraparound porch, smiling at the children who’d gathered to hear one of Mee-Maw’s stories.

  If he’d ever seen a sweeter face, he couldn’t say when.

  If he’d ever seen a prettier face….

  Josh exhaled the breath he’d been holding and wondered why he always became addle-brained in her presence.

  Maybe it was because of her pretty, sweet face. That, and her thick, gorgeous hair. Most days, she gathered it in a loose bun, held in place with a wide strip of material that matched her shirt or skirt. And, most days, she hid the graceful contours of her feminine form behind a loose-fitting, ankle-length apron. Today, she’d donned another of Sarah’s designs, this one a pale-green dress that hugged her narrow waist and hips. The dry, Texas wind lifted her long, shimmering tresses, and he watched as they billowed out behind her like an auburn cape. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to run his fingers through those waves, to find out if they felt as soft and satiny as they looked!

  Earlier, she’d rolled up her sleeves to help Lucinda serve fried chicken, and Josh silently thanked God that she hadn’t rolled them down again. Closing his eyes, he remembered long, slender fingers and white-as-snow wrists that hovered over food-laden platters as she dropped golden drumsticks and chicken wings onto guests’ plates. She was as quick with a joke as she was with a compliment and delighted them all with the quiet trill of her laughter—laughter that sounded more like birdsong than obnoxious giggles. If he concentrated, Josh could hear it, even now.

  “You aren’t fooling anybody, you know.”

  The voice startled him so badly that Josh whacked his elbow on the tree trunk. “Never pegged you as the type to sneak up on a fella, Pa,” he said, putting as much deference into his voice as he could.

  “And I never pegged you as the gawking type.” He nodded toward Dinah. “Why don’t you just go over there and talk to her, instead of standing here, staring like a moony-eyed boy?”

  He didn’t cotton to being caught in the act of staring, but Josh held his tongue. It was hard to argue with the truth.

  “It’s been long enough,” his father said, and Josh understood perfectly. It had been long enough since Sadie’s passing.

  He’d thought the same thing, half a dozen times or more, since meeting Dinah. But there didn’t seem to be much point in telling her how he felt. “She’s just passin’ through, Pa,” he blurted out. Besides, what he knew about Dinah Theodore, he could tamp into the bowl of his grandpa’s corncob pipe.

  Matthew dropped a hand onto Josh’s shoulder. “Life’s short, son. You know that better than most, because you learned the lesson the hard way.” He gave the shoulder an affectionate squeeze, then looked at Dinah. “You can’t know for sure what she might say about staying until you’ve asked her.” Winking, he said, “Now, I’m going to see what sort of gossip your ma is involved with over there….”

  Josh watched his father lumber over to where his wife stood chatting with the pastor and several ladies from church. But his interest in the conversation was short-lived, and soon his gaze slid across the lawn, back to the hackberry.

  Much to his disappointment, she wasn’t there. He straightened, whipped the blade of grass from his mouth, and did his best to ignore the overpowering ache pounding in his heart. Where could she have gone in an eyeblink?

  He tried thinking reasonably. Tried focusing on the facts. Facts such as, the only reason she’d come home with him had been because of her injured ankle. And that she aimed to leave this place as soon as it healed.

  Just then, a horrible thought occurred to him: What better time to slip away than in the middle of a boisterous get-together, when no one would notice her absence until the last of the guests had left?

  He wouldn’t mind her leaving as much if he thought for a minute that she was ready. But that was a lie, and he knew it. Would she really leave without saying good-bye, at least to him? The hot ache in his heart twisted into cold, mind-numbing dread as he admitted, Yes, she would. Something—or someone—malevolent still haunted her, and that’s why he’d so often caught her staring off toward the horizon, as if she expected that the object of her fears was out there, biding his time for the right moment
to finish what he’d started.

  Josh had rarely experienced the raw fear he’d observed in Dinah. He hadn’t felt it as a young pup, when, during his first trip to a cattle auction in Dallas, the crowd had separated him from his pa. Not at nine years of age, when he’d teetered on the barn roof, where he’d gone to repair the hole made by his mail-order rocket. Not even when Sadie had lain dying.

  What’s wrong with you? he demanded of himself, looking left, then right, as guilt and disgust hammered hard inside of him. How could he feel so afraid and worried and lost simply because Dinah was gone from his sight?

  He made his way to the barn, but she wasn’t among the toe-tapping, hand-clapping guests, bobbing their heads in time to the lively hoedown. He faced the fire pit, where a red-faced George was serving up juicy bits of pork to anyone passing by. He also spotted Griffen, though a tick too late to pretend he hadn’t.

  “Neville,” said the Swede, “good to see you, my friend!”

  I’m not your friend, was Josh’s cynical thought. “Glad you could make it. Where are your wife and children?”

  “Still in Boston, but they’ll be here soon.”

  Nodding politely, Josh continued to scan the crowd as Griffen explained how he’d rented three rooms at the hotel, where his family would stay until the construction of their house was complete. “Not home, exactly,” Griffen said, “but good enough for the short term.” Still no sign of Dinah. Would she take the horse he’d bought her, or would she walk south to Mexico? Would she leave a note to explain why she had to leave, or simply go without a word, leaving him to wonder forever?

  “…and once the missus arrives,” Griffen was saying, “she’ll put on the finishing touches. Nothing like a woman’s touch—you know, those ‘dainties,’ like curtains and doilies and knickknacks—to turn a house into a home.”

  His voice penetrated Josh’s Dinah-fog and brought him back to the here and now. He stood straighter and cleared his throat. “How long before you can send for them?”

  “Tomorrow, I will wire the money for their tickets. The little woman wants to arrange the packing and oversee the moving of our things, so, in a few weeks, I expect you will be meeting dem.”

  “Good, good,” Josh said, nodding. “I’m sure you miss them.” The way he missed Dinah right now. The way he’d miss her every day until he knew for certain that she was someplace safe. And happy. Liar. He’d miss her far longer than that!

  Maybe, he was worrying for nothing. She’d probably just gone inside to fetch a bonnet to keep her pretty hair in place.

  “I see your mother over there by the spit,” Griffen said. “I must t’ank her for inviting me.” He grabbed Josh’s hand and gave it a hearty shake. “It’s good to see you, Neville,” he repeated. “If you’re in town, look me up. I could use the company. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee!”

  Josh heard himself say, “Will do,” but his mind was fixed on finding Dinah. If he had to, he’d saddle Callie and head south. That didn’t make a lick of sense, since he had no idea which road she might have taken, but sense had nothing to do with it. He needed to find her, and, when he did, he’d insist that she come back with him to the Lazy N—to stay.

  As he moved toward the flagstone path, Josh wondered what made her think she could get along out there, alone, with no job and no money? He also wondered how he would get along without her!

  And then, blessedly, he spotted her, rounding the back corner of the house. He tossed away the blade of grass and half ran to catch up with her. “Wait!” he wanted to shout, or “Dinah, stop!”

  Somehow, he found the self-control to hold his tongue. And yet—though he hadn’t called her name—she stopped, turned around, and smiled prettily when she saw him. The distance between them couldn’t have been more than twenty yards, so why did it feel like two thousand? He wanted to break into a sprint, race up that walk just as fast as his legs would carry him, and, when at last he reached her, he wanted to throw his arms around her and confess the panic he’d felt when he’d thought she’d left him.

  When he was close enough to see the merry twinkle in her eyes, she said, “Why, Josh Neville, are you following me?”

  He stopped three feet from where she stood with her hands on her hips. “It would appear that I am.”

  She tilted her head and, with that minuscule motion, turned his ears hot and his palms damp. “Your grandmother asked me to fix her a cup of tea.” She nodded toward the back door. “I’d love for you to keep me company while I do.”

  Josh wanted to tell her he’d like nothing better, except maybe to bundle her in his arms and kiss every freckle on her cheeks and nose.

  At his silence, her smile faded. “You’re one of the hosts, so, of course, I’ll understand if you can’t.”

  She’d misread his hesitation. Oh, how like her to provide him with a good excuse, just in case he didn’t want to be alone with her. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said. “Do I need to say more?”

  She lifted her skirts and started up the steps. “Good thing Lucinda keeps a low fire under the tea kettle,” she said, “although, if you ask me, it’s hot enough out here that one could boil water just by setting a cup in the sun!”

  Chuckling, Josh reached for the door handle at the same moment as Dinah. For an instant, while she stood blinking at their tangle of fingers, he thought she might bolt and run. Instead, she said, “You really ought to wear your gloves more often.”

  Gloves? The last thing he needed while his mind was a muddy mess was to try to puzzle out a riddle!

  Dinah took hold of his thumb with one hand, his pinky with the other, and drew an invisible line from callus to callus, like a little girl playing a game of connect-the-dots. Folding his fingers inward, she gave his fist a gentle squeeze. “You’re not made of stone, you know. Even big, strong cowboys need a little protection now and then.” With that, she grabbed the door handle and stepped inside.

  He wanted to comment on how warm and stuffy the room felt. Wanted to pull the window shade down to block out the sunlight and give them some privacy. Considered pointing out, as she spooned sugar into a teacup, that she looked like she belonged here.

  “Would you like me to fix you a cup while I’m at it?”

  He’d been staring, and she’d caught him at it. Again. Josh might have said, “It’s the heat of the stove that turned my face beet-red.” But on the chance she hadn’t noticed that he was behaving like a wet-behind-the-ears young’un, he chose not to call attention to his ineptness. “No, thanks. Tea is for sick folks and old women.”

  “Is that what you think?” Her laughter harmonized with the quiet clatter of spoon against china. “And yet, I love the stuff.”

  And yet? Josh didn’t get it, and said so.

  Pushing the screen door open with her elbow, she walked outside, talking over her shoulder as she went. “Let’s just say I feel a whole lot older on the inside than I look on the outside.” When he joined her on the porch, she added, “Thanks for keeping me company, by the way. With all these strangers milling about, it was nice to have a familiar face and voice so near. That was really sweet of you.”

  There she went again, calling him sweet! She somehow had come to the crazy conclusion that he’d gone looking for her and offered to stay with her while she brewed his grandmother’s tea for her sake. Did he dare own up to the truth? He shrugged inwardly. What could it hurt? “Didn’t do it for you.”

  Dinah stopped, one foot on the flagstone walk, the other still on the bottom step of the porch, and looked up at him. He prayed for the wisdom to interpret the array of sentiments that flickered across her face, from confusion to pleasure, from sadness to trepidation. If he could make sense of his own jumbled-up emotions, maybe Josh would know how to comfort her—if he should. Feeling oafish and idiotic, he heaved a frustrated sigh. “Guess spending all that time with you on the trail got me so accustomed to having you around that…”—he paused, lifting one shoulder in a helpless shrug—“…that it feels
strange when you’re not.”

  With both feet planted firmly on the walk now, Dinah smiled—not that nervous flash of teeth usually reserved for moments when she caught him staring, and not the shy, dimpled grin inspired by his compliments, but a soft, sincere smile of contentment. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to make it the only look she’d wear, night and day, for the rest of her life!

  Her eyelashes fluttering, she glanced down at the teacup. “I’d better get this to your grandmother before it’s too cold to drink.”

  “Right,” he agreed as she started hurrying down the path.

  “Coming along?” she called over her shoulder.

  “I think I’ll just wait for you here, if that’s all right,” he called after her, hoping she’d heard him.

  Josh slapped a hand to the back of his neck. A smart man would back off, do whatever it took to douse the bright-hot flames of new love that smoldered inside him. When it came to Dinah, though, he felt anything but smart, a fact that woke a hundred separate doubts and suspicions in his mind.

  Because only God Almighty knew if what he’d begun to feel for Dinah would keep him warm for the rest of his days, or burn everything—and everyone—that it touched.

  24

  Esther seemed perfectly content to chatter with the children gathered around her knees, so, after pulling up a small side table to hold her teacup, Kate headed for the spot where she’d last seen Josh. But he wasn’t near the walkway, on the porch, or in the kitchen. Had she misunderstood him when he’d said that he’d wait for her?

  She had no business falling for the cowboy, a fact that loomed larger with every passing hour. At first, Kate had told herself that any woman would feel the same way if she’d been rescued from certain doom and then protected by a handsome hero. But it hadn’t taken long to figure out that saying something over and over couldn’t turn it into truth.

  Kate sat down on the top porch step and scanned the lawn. It should have been easy to find Josh among the partygoers, since he towered over just about everyone, but she didn’t see him near the bandstand or the food tables, and he wasn’t with his parents or his cousins or his grandmother, either. With her elbows propped on her knees, Kate rested her chin in an upturned palm and frowned. “Mindless little ninny,” she muttered. “You’re foolish and crazy, to boot, and you’d better get ahold of yourself, and do it quick, or—”