Mrs. Liscomb turned to look at her daughter, but did it so naturally she didn’t appear to be averting her face. “Where’s Gary?”
“He sneaked into town,” Eddie told her.
Amanda kicked her brother’s ankle. Apparently she’d intended to keep that information from her mother.
“He wouldn’t do that before he’d finished his chores,” Mrs. Liscomb chided. “You’ve got to stop being jealous of Gary. You’ll be a big boy like him one day.”
Amanda laid her hand on her brother’s shoulder to keep him from making the sharp rejoinder Broc was certain hovered on his lips. “I don’t know where Gary is,” Amanda told her mother.
“I’m sure he’s with the herd. Earl Carruthers wouldn’t miss a chance to run off some of our cows. He wants that bull almost as much as he wants our ranch.”
Feeling he was being drawn too deeply into the private problems of people from whom he had to collect money, Broc thought it might be better to leave. “It was nice to meet you, but I need to be getting on my way. I need to find a room in town and hunt up some dinner.”
“You must have dinner with us,” Mrs. Liscomb said. “You won’t find anything good in Cactus Bend.”
“Thank you, but I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“It’s the least I can do. We would be ruined without that bull.”
Broc had the feeling Amanda would have preferred that he turn down her mother’s offer, but he decided to accept for three reasons. For one, Eddie begged him to stay.
“I’ll show you my horses,” he offered. “I’ve got three.”
Hoping to see Mr. Liscomb and finish his business quickly was his second reason for staying. The third was purely selfish. Amanda was a lovely young woman, and he hadn’t had the pleasure of spending time with a woman that pretty since he’d left California. Putting up with Amanda’s mother couldn’t be worse than spending time in a saloon with a bunch of drunks he didn’t know. “Thank you very much for the invitation. I’ll accept if you’re sure it won’t be too much trouble.”
“It’s no more trouble to cook for seven instead of six.”
Believing he wouldn’t cause more than a mild inconvenience, Broc accepted.
“Let Eddie show you his horses,” Mrs. Liscomb said. “Amanda will have dinner ready before you know it.”
Too late, Broc realized it wouldn’t be any trouble to the older woman because she wouldn’t do any of the work. He turned to Amanda, intending to apologize, searching his mind for a reason to say he couldn’t stay.
“It’s not a problem,” she said with a smile that made him feel better. “It’ll be fun to have someone new to talk to. Cactus Bend is so small, we’re all bored with each other.”
“Cactus Bend isn’t a suitable place for a young woman,” Mrs. Liscomb told Broc. “There are too many rough men there.”
“Cowhands,” Amanda translated.
“You may insist that they’re just as nice as Leo and Andy—they’re the young men who work for us,” Mrs. Liscomb explained, “—but I wouldn’t want you to frequent their company if they didn’t work for us.”
“Don’t let Eddie bore you about his horses,” Amanda told Broc. “If you give him half a chance, he’ll show you every horse on the place.”
“You like horses, don’t you?” Eddie asked Broc.
“I like them very much, and I’m looking forward to meeting yours.”
Mrs. Liscomb offered a faint smile before turning back toward the house. “Come on, Amanda. We don’t want to keep the young man waiting for his dinner.”
Broc watched mother and daughter walk toward the house, confused by the mother but intrigued with Amanda. She didn’t appear to mind his scarred face. That had never happened before.
“So,” he said, turning to Eddie, “what makes these horses of yours so special?”
“I was never so shocked in my life,” Mrs. Liscomb said to Amanda. “That man’s face is horrible. I don’t know how I managed not to faint.” Her mother had settled herself into a comfortable chair while Amanda prepared dinner.
“He told Eddie he was shot in the face during the war,” Amanda said as she took a bowl of steaming potatoes to the table. “From the looks of the other side of his face, he must have been a very handsome man.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but how can I think of that when one side of his face looks so terrible?”
“If you feel so strongly about it, I’m surprised you asked him to stay for dinner.”
Mrs. Liscomb drew herself up. “I wasn’t born in Texas. I know how to treat people properly.”
Amanda was sorry she’d ventured a criticism. Given any encouragement, her mother would launch into the differences between Texas and her childhood home in Mississippi. According to their father, it had been a modest dwelling on a farm her father ran without slaves. To hear her mother tell it, the place fell just short of being a plantation house.
“He seems like a nice man,” Amanda said. “I expect that wound has made his life rather difficult.”
“I would think so,” her mother declared. “People must shrink from him.”
Amanda paused in her work. “Only a cruel person would do that, but I’m sure he’s suffered plenty.”
“At least he wasn’t killed.”
Amanda suspected that sometimes a person might rather be dead than have to suffer through life with such a terrible burden. He was dressed like a cowboy, but there was something about him that said he wasn’t an ordinary cowpoke. Maybe it was the quality of his horse, maybe the way he spoke and acted. Whatever it was, Amanda was curious about him. The damage to his face unsettled her because she hated to think any man as nice as Broc Kincaid would be doomed to a life of being pointed at, whispered about, and avoided because of something he couldn’t help. Despite the hardships imposed by Reconstruction, Texans treated the men who’d fought in the war as heroes.
Amanda transferred the platter containing pork chops in gravy to the table. “I’ll call them in. The corn bread will be ready in a few minutes.”
She had prepared a more elaborate dinner than usual despite the absence of her brother and the two ranch hands. Having a guest for dinner was a rare occasion.
Her mother believed in putting one’s best foot forward whenever company was around. It was a continuing disappointment to her that she’d never had the financial means to become an important force in the social fabric of Cactus Bend. She was still embarrassed that a saloon had been the main support of the family for several years after they moved to Cactus Bend. In her mind, only socially inferior people had anything to do with saloons or the men who frequented them.
Amanda was surprised to find Broc and Eddie on the front porch when she went to call them to the table. Eddie was telling Broc something and their guest was listening with rapt attention. Amanda didn’t want to think of what secrets her brother might be divulging. He was just as likely to talk about which cowhand had made a pass at her—and whether he thought she was or should be interested—as he was to go on about his horses.
“Dinner is ready,” she told them, hoping she’d stopped the conversation before Eddie got too personal.
Eddie jumped up from the step where he’d been sitting. “Amanda is a great cook,” he told Broc. “Mama says all the lazy, good-for-nothing cowhands want to marry her. Gary says her cooking isn’t the reason they want to marry her, but he won’t tell me what it is.”
“I’m sure it’s her singing,” Broc said, trying to hide a smile. “Even lazy, good-for-nothing cowhands enjoy music and dancing.”
“Mama won’t let her dance with nobody. She says it’s heathen.”
“She says it puts wrong ideas in men’s heads,” his sister corrected him. “Now wash up.”
“We already done that,” Eddie informed her. “Broc made me.”
Amanda cast Broc a questioning glance. No one had ever made Eddie wash up without a struggle. There was clearly more to this wandering cowboy than met the eye. “You�
��ll have to tell me what kind of magic spell you put on him. I hope it doesn’t wear off quickly.”
“He didn’t do nothing to me.” Eddie was indignant. “He said I could ride his horse after dinner.”
“Bribery,” Amanda chuckled. “I’ve had to resort to that myself.”
“I call it motivation,” Broc said with an answering chuckle.
“I’m hungry,” Eddie announced and marched inside.
Amanda wasn’t surprised that Broc insisted she go in before him, nor was she surprised when he held her mother’s chair and waited for her to be seated before he sat down. Her mother was impressed—enough to begin her usual catechism to determine whether he was worthy of her company.
“Where are you from?” her mother asked Broc as soon as they’d all been served.
“Tennessee,” Broc answered. “My family had a farm there.”
“I’m sure it was more than a farm,” her mother said.
“Not much,” Broc replied. “We survived mostly by entertaining on the riverboats.”
“You’re an actor?” She said the word as though it were an admission to some kind of crime.
“Not any longer.” Broc’s left hand indicated that side of his face. “I’m nothing more than a cowhand now.”
Her mother looked undecided whether his current employment improved Broc’s social worth or merely put him in an equally undesirable category.
“Being an actor must have been exciting.” Amanda had never seen a play.
“Did your boat blow up?” Eddie asked.
“My boat never blew up.” Broc’s smile was reminiscent and a little sad. “My friends will tell you I’m never off the stage, that I take any opportunity to make myself the center of attention.”
That admission didn’t surprise Amanda. Broc had the kind of magnetism that attracted attention. He virtually bubbled with energy and good spirits. She couldn’t imagine how he could be so cheerful after what had happened to his face, but he seemed to have made his peace with it and found a way to be happy. She wondered if that was a lesson he could teach her mother and brother. Their unhappiness with their lives was making them miserable.
“I don’t know much about riverboats,” her mother said. “When I was growing up, my father would never let us go into town when a riverboat was docked. He said the boats were overrun with gamblers.”
“How did you end up in Texas?” Amanda asked. “I would have thought you’d want to go back to your home.”
“My parents sold the farm. I came to Texas to help my friend Cade get his ranch back from squatters.”
“Did you kill all of them?” Eddie asked, his eyes bright with anticipation.
“Only a few,” Broc said. “The others ran away.”
With no prospect of stories about killings or maiming, Eddie turned back to food.
“Do you want a ranch of your own?” her mother asked.
“I don’t know,” Broc replied. “It’s a lot easier to work for someone than to be the boss. I have another friend who owns a rancho in California. In addition to the responsibilities of his family and the farm, Rafe has to worry about the well-being of the hundreds of people who work for him and their families.”
“He must be very rich,” her mother said.
Amanda could tell Broc was feeling uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. Knowing her mother was poised to ask for details, she asked, “Where is your Texas friend’s ranch? It must have been difficult to return after the war and have to fight to get back his own property.”
She relaxed while Broc told them about Cade’s struggle to round up and brand cows that had been undisturbed for four years, having to deal with squatters, and enduring the verbal battles between Cade’s grandfather and the woman who was now his grandmother-in-law. Her mother usually managed to find something to disapprove of in every story, but she laughed at some of the things those two old people had said to each other. Amanda was certain Broc had been a successful entertainer. Anyone who could cajole her mother into forgetting her dissatisfaction with life long enough to laugh had to be a genius.
She wondered if he thought he had to entertain people, or they wouldn’t want to be around him. He mentioned his friends with enough warmth to convince her that they weren’t bothered by his scars. But she was certain most people reacted as her mother had.
Unexpectedly, she felt a kinship with him. She’d often wondered if anyone would be interested in her if she weren’t pretty. She hadn’t been so caught up in her own popularity that she didn’t notice that many plain women were forced to marry very unsatisfactory men because they didn’t have youth and beauty to recommend them. Amanda was happy she was young and attractive, but she wanted to believe she could find someone who would still love her when her youth was gone and her beauty faded. So far, she hadn’t found anyone to excite her interest despite the number of men who’d shown an interest in her. She was surprised Broc Kincaid had been able to do what others couldn’t.
She wasn’t impressed by the handsome side of his face any more than she was repelled by the other, though she did find him physically attractive. What woman wouldn’t be attracted to a man who was tall, with broad shoulders, a trim waist, powerful thighs, and such an appealing air of confidence about him? He wasn’t annoyed by her brother or disapproving of her mother.
She doubted she’d ever see Broc Kincaid again, but she hoped he would find time this evening to drop by the saloon. She wasn’t sure why she wanted him to hear her sing. It could be that she wanted someone with experience who could appreciate what she did. She trusted it wasn’t because she wanted to add one more admirer to her list.
“I hope your friend isn’t taking advantage of your kindness,” her mother said to Broc. “After all you’ve done for him, surely he would be anxious to help you set up your own ranch.”
“He’s tried. I suppose I’ll settle down someday, but I’m happy with my life as it is now.”
Amanda sensed that her mother was about to launch into her lecture on a man and his responsibilities. The one thing her mother couldn’t stand was a man who was free of obligations. She was convinced that all men were inherently bad, that only the responsibility of a family and holding a respectable place in the community enabled a man to overcome his iniquitous nature. She was kept from her lecture by the bursting open of the kitchen door and Leo’s unexpected appearance.
“Andy’s hurt. I think he’s broken his collarbone.”
Chapter Two
Eddie was out of his chair and through the door before Leo had time to turn around. Amanda rose from the table. “I’ll come immediately.”
“I’ll be glad to help.” Broc had left his chair almost as quickly as Eddie. “I saw a lot of broken bones during the war.”
Amanda was relieved to have his assistance. Andy and Leo were both still in their teens, barely old enough to handle their jobs, but Carruthers and Ian Sandoval, owners of the ranches on either side of them, had either hired or scared off the more experienced help. No Western man wanted to work for women, so Amanda had felt fortunate to be able to convince Andy and Leo to hire on.
“I put him in the bunkhouse,” Leo said. “He’s moaning some kinda awful.”
“What happened?” Amanda asked.
“It was those fools who work for Carruthers,” Leo said. “They started teasing Andy, saying he wasn’t old enough to be a cowhand, that he couldn’t do half the things they could. And you know Andy. Had to prove he was equal to any one of them. They egged him on to rope the biggest, meanest steer they could find. It pulled Andy out of his saddle. Mighty near crippled his horse, too.”
Cowhands from both Carruthers and Sandoval frequently hazed Leo and Andy. She was certain her neighbors had instructed their men to cause as much trouble as they could. The sooner they drove off anyone who would work for the Lazy T, the sooner one of them could buy it.
Andy was lying on his bunk looking pitiful when they entered the bunkhouse.
“Leo said
he thinks you broke your collarbone,” Amanda said.
“I don’t know,” Andy said. “It hurts too much to tell.”
“Let me get your shirt off, and I’ll take a look at it,” Broc said.
“He probably knows more about broken bones than any of us,” Amanda said when Andy looked like he might refuse. “He fought in the war.”
Andy wasn’t happy when Broc removed his shirt by cutting it at the seams. “That’s my best work shirt,” he complained.
“It was cut it off or cause you more pain,” Broc said.
“I can sew it up again,” Amanda offered.
“Why does Andy’s shoulder look weird?” Eddie asked.
Andy’s shoulder was tilted at an odd angle. Amanda waited nervously while Broc ran his fingers around Andy’s collarbone, pressing slightly every inch or so.
“His collarbone is okay,” Broc said when he’d finished, “but he’s separated his shoulder.”
“Get the wagon,” Amanda said to Leo.
“You don’t have to do that,” Broc said. “I can set it.”
“I’d rather Doc do it,” Andy said.
“It’ll take you nearly an hour to get to town,” Amanda pointed out. “Riding in the wagon will jar your shoulder. You’ll be in constant pain.”
Amanda wasn’t sure why she was trying to convince Andy to let Broc doctor him. She didn’t really know anything about Broc. Still, she was convinced he could set Andy’s shoulder.
“Okay.”
Andy’s expression was in opposition to his words. He was so much like Gary, Amanda worried about him. She almost felt guilty for giving Andy a job that offered so many ways to get hurt. He was determined to be thought as much a man as someone with ten years more experience.
Broc looked around. Apparently not finding what he wanted, he picked up the sleeve of Andy’s shirt, folded it several times, and handed it to him. “It’s going to hurt. Bite on this.”
“I’m no chicken.”
When Love Comes Page 2