When Love Comes

by Leigh Greenwood

  Up to this point, Broc had had a little sympathy for Carruthers, but that was a thing of the past. He grabbed Carruthers by his injured shoulder and threw him off. Much to his surprise, Carruthers didn’t appear to have felt a thing. He struggled to his knees to attack Broc again. Broc paused, trying to decide how best to subdue Carruthers without doing further injury to his arm, when he noticed one of the snakes had slithered onto the rise. Several others were following.

  He had to get off the rise before the snake could strike. Time for hard decisions. Broc drew back his fist and slammed it into Carruthers’s jaw. The man lurched but didn’t fall.

  A second snake crawled out of the water.

  Broc hit Carruthers harder. The blow stunned him into immobility. Broc dragged him to his feet and over to the horse. “Mount up before the snakes kill us both.”

  Carruthers responded by throwing his weight backward. Broc nearly went down. With or without Carruthers, Broc had only seconds to get off the rise. He didn’t like Carruthers, but couldn’t square it with his conscience to leave the man to certain death. He hit Carruthers with the butt of his own gun. The man sank to his knees. Broc grabbed him under his arms and with a superhuman effort, managed to get him across the saddle of the nearer horse. One of the snakes had come so close, Broc had to kick it away. Another struck at him, but its fangs were deflected by his leather boots. Broc sprang onto his saddle and drove the horses into the lake only inches ahead of the snakes.

  He still wasn’t safe because the snakes followed him.

  Broc had no idea how fast cottonmouth moccasins could swim, but he knew he couldn’t afford to let them catch him or his horses. Fortunately, the horses seemed to be as frightened of the snakes as he was, and they lurched through the water.

  Broc would never have believed it, but the snakes could swim as fast as the horses could run through the water. As they ran, sometimes through water nearly chest deep, the horses kicked up such a swirling wake the snakes couldn’t reach them. Broc was certain every snake from the nest was in pursuit.

  Carruthers was slipping off the saddle. If the man fell into the water, there would be nothing Broc could to do save him. Damn the man. It would serve him right to be caught in his own trap. Uttering curses he hoped Amanda would never have occasion to hear, he grabbed Carruthers by the belt and pulled him out of the saddle and across his own horse. For a moment he thought the extra weight was going to sink his horse so deeply in the muddy lake bottom the snakes would have a chance to catch up, but the frightened animal summoned the energy to lunge forward and stagger out of the water.

  Still the snakes followed.

  “I’ll catch your horse,” Broc called to Amanda. He didn’t know how long the snakes would follow, but they seemed just as fast on the ground as in the water. “When I bring him to you, ride like hell! Half the snakes in Texas are after us.”

  Broc had to push his horse to catch up with Amanda’s riderless mount, but he managed to catch the animal and lead him back to Amanda. Meanwhile, the grass appeared to be alive with snakes fanning out in all directions. Her horse was too spooked by the snakes to stand still. Broc couldn’t help because it was all he could do to stay in the saddle and hold on to Carruthers.

  “Hurry. I’ve never seen so many snakes in my life.”

  Amanda managed to get one foot in the stirrup before her horse panicked and galloped off, leaving Amanda perilously balanced over the body of the horse. Her hold on the reins wouldn’t do her any good unless she could get her other leg across the horse and sit down in the saddle. She was safe from the snakes now, but if she lost her balance, her foot would be caught in the stirrup and she’d be dragged to death.

  Inventing new curses as fast as the words could leave his mouth, Broc urged his tired and overburdened horse into a labored gallop. Try as he might, he couldn’t gain on Amanda’s horse. He was on the verge of dumping Carruthers on the ground when he saw a rider top a rise in the distance. He waved to the man, indicating Amanda’s runaway horse.

  Perversely, the moment help arrived, Amanda’s horse slowed down, and she was able to get into the saddle. Breathing a sigh of relief, Broc slowed his horse to a walk as Amanda doubled back to meet him.

  Carruthers stirred. “Don’t twitch a single muscle, you son of a bitch,” an exhausted and thoroughly out-of-temper Broc told him, “or I’ll hit you so hard your brains will end up in Oklahoma.”

  Amanda settled back into the circle of Broc’s arms. It was the kind of soft evening that would become a wistful memory during the heat of summer, and she was enjoying it on her front porch with Broc rather than in Corby’s smoke-filled saloon. Now that the need for money was no longer pressing, she would have to decide if she wanted to keep performing, but that was a decision she would make later. And with Broc. She suspected he enjoyed performing even more than she did, but tonight something else was in the forefront of their minds.

  “Are you sure you want to stay here and marry me?”

  Broc held her a little tighter and kissed the top of her head. “Of course I want to marry you. Why do you ask?”

  Being kissed on the top of the head reminded her of what her father used to do when she was a little girl and he was tired of putting up with her. She knew it was Broc’s way of reassuring her, but it still annoyed her. She’d have to show him some places she’d prefer to be kissed.

  “So much of what you’ve done since the war has been because of your wound.” She felt him stiffen and turned to face him. “Mama told Mrs. Carruthers she thinks you’re better looking than Corby.” She laughed. “If Mama can forget your scars, anybody can.”

  Broc’s eyes took on that glazed look they got when he didn’t want to talk about something.

  “Now that the family has half the income from the saloon and diner, Mama and Eddie don’t need me. I’ll perform with you if you want. If you don’t want to sing or act yourself, you can write skits and direct them. Mrs. Carruthers would like for you to be Priscilla’s manager. You said yourself she has the voice for a major career. I’ll go with you anywhere you want to go. I just want you to be happy.”

  She didn’t like it when Broc silenced her, but being silenced with a kiss wasn’t a bad thing. Especially when one kiss turned into several. Especially when those several kisses left her breathless and unable to put together a rational argument. Or wanting to do anything but have him kiss her again. She sighed and leaned her head against his chest. “You don’t want to talk about it, do you?”

  “I’d rather spend the time kissing you.”

  She looked up and smiled. “So would I, but you deserve to be the happiest man in Texas.”

  “Being in love with you has already made me the happiest man in Texas. How could I not be when the most beautiful woman in the state is offering to do anything within her power to make me happy?”

  She would have liked to believe his claim, but she knew his wounds haunted him like a specter dogging his footsteps, staying just out of sight until he was most vulnerable. Somehow she had to make him believe that given time, people would forget the scars just as she had.

  “Though I liked Corby—Papa and I both made a huge mistake there—I resisted marrying him because I knew I wouldn’t be happy unless I loved my husband and he loved me. I love you, and you love me, but you’ll never be really happy until you are convinced the people you love don’t care about your scars.”

  Broc kissed the end of her nose. “Eddie never has, and these days your mother actually smiles when she sees me. Now that Gary feels like a full partner with Corby, he wouldn’t care if my whole face had been shot off. And before you say it, Priscilla thinks I can do no wrong, and Dan is the best friend I have. Have I missed anybody except the sheriff? He doesn’t care what I look like, just that I’ve made him look bad because he refused to believe what we found out about Carruthers and Corby.”

  “No, I don’t think you’ve missed anybody in Cactus Bend. Since Mrs. Sibley and the judge continue to sing your praises, I think y
ou’ve got Crystal Springs covered as well.”

  Broc’s arms tightened around her. “Good. For the record, I don’t want to go back to performing. It’s what I did growing up. It’s what I thought I’d do for the rest of my life, but now I enjoy being a cowhand. I think I’ll like being the boss even better. I’ll give Priscilla what advice I can, but I intend to stay right here with you. And Eddie. And your mother. And Gary. With everybody in Cactus Bend. Even Corby. Now, isn’t it time we talked about a wedding?” His gaze grew heated. “After that we can talk about how many children you’d like to have.”

  Further discussion was postponed while they explored various satisfactory ways to kiss. Amanda would have liked to continue the exploration, but she needed to ask him something first.

  “One more thing,” Amanda said when she could catch her breath.

  Broc frowned. “Okay, but this is the last interruption. I saved up a backlog of kisses while I was in Crystal Springs. I plan to use all of them tonight.”

  “Before we start planning the wedding, I think you ought to go home to see your family.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Broc gazed in disbelief at the throng of people gathered around him. What had been planned as an ordinary family picnic had turned into a celebration involving every member of his family, extending to in-laws as well as nieces and nephews. They had spread out over the lawn of an abandoned riverside plantation. While some of the children played among the burned-out ruins of the house, the men sat talking and smoking in the shade of magnolias and water oaks. Small children and babies played or slept on handmade blankets. At the back of two wagons, several women were laying out food that would feed a group at least twice as large. There were already skinned knees and scratched elbows, but nothing had been able to dampen the festive atmosphere.

  Knowing he was the focus of this celebration had probably shocked him more than learning he was alive had shocked his family. He had spent the last two days answering nonstop questions about the war and his time in Texas. That had been easy compared to explaining why he’d allowed his family to think he was dead. He wasn’t sure his mother would ever forgive him. She still teared up whenever she looked at him.

  “You’ve got to come, or Uncle Vernon is going to sing again,” one of his nephews begged. “Grandma says no one was ever as good as you.”

  “I’ll be there in a little while,” Broc said. “Right now I want to relax a bit. I’ve been singing for the last hour.”

  “That’s ’cause nobody wants to listen to anybody else now you’re here.” The boy blushed and turned to Amanda. “I didn’t mean we didn’t want to listen to you. It’s just…” He seemed lost for words.

  “You haven’t hurt my feelings,” Amanda said with a smile. “I know I can’t sing as well as Broc.”

  “But you’re awfully pretty.”

  “Watch it,” Broc teased. “She’s my girl. No poaching.” Amanda’s beauty had blossomed once the cares of the last few months had been washed away. She was radiant in her happiness.

  The boy, who couldn’t be more than seven, blushed. “I’m too young, but you’d better watch out for Wally. He hasn’t stopped staring at her since you got here.”

  Wally was the youngest of Broc’s siblings and the only one who wasn’t married.

  “Why don’t you remind Wally I changed his diapers?” Broc said. “That’ll take the starch out of him.”

  The kid grinned. “He’d knock my block off.”

  “Not if he couldn’t catch you. I get the feeling you could outrun him.”

  “Everybody can. Uncle Wally likes to eat as much as he likes girls.” He turned serious. “Promise you’ll sing so Uncle Vernon won’t?”

  “I promise. Now go get some of that fried chicken before Wally eats it all.”

  “He’s a cute boy,” Amanda said. “He’s got the Kincaid look.” She glanced around. “All of the children bear a strong family resemblance. I hope our children do, too.”

  “Our children are going to have the Liscomb look.” Broc brushed Amanda’s cheek with his lips.

  “Only the girls. The boys are going to look like you.”

  “You won’t have any children to look like either one of you if you don’t stop talking about it and get married.”

  Broc turned to find his mother had come up from behind them. During the eight years since he’d gone off to war, she had grown thin, her hair streaked with gray. Broc thought she was still beautiful, but fine lines marred a complexion that had once been nearly flawless. Light shone in her eyes, but the twinkle was gone. Today tears flowed down her cheeks. Broc had exhausted his resources looking for ways to apologize, so he simply held out his hand and drew her down to sit next to him.

  “We can’t get married until Rafe’s family gets here from California. His half brother Luis says if we get married before he arrives, we’ll have to do it all over again.”

  They might have to get married twice anyway. They’d planned the wedding for Texas because that was where Amanda’s family and his friends lived, but his family wanted to attend. Now that he’d been restored to them, they wanted to be part of his life again. The reception his family had given him was still hard for him to believe. Not one person seemed bothered by his scars. Once his parents had gotten over the shock of learning he was alive, the news had spread to the rest of the family with the speed of a Texas prairie fire. Within hours, every member of the clan had descended on the parental home, each new arrival wanting to hear the story of Laveau’s betrayal. Rather than recoil from Broc’s injuries, they’d been ready to organize a family militia to help hunt down Laveau di Viere.

  It was equally surprising to learn the family had dropped out of show business after he joined the army. His mother had said, It was your talent that kept us going. I never realized you thought that was the only reason we loved you.

  There was a lesson there that Broc told himself he must never forget with his own children. He must not become so focused on success that it appeared to be more important than the people in his life. He knew nothing was more important than his love for Amanda. He wanted to make sure his children felt he loved them just as much.

  “I don’t care where you get married as long as I can be there,” his mother said. “I’ve missed too much of your life already.”

  Broc’s throat tightened but he forced the words out. “That was my fault, not yours.”

  “Whose fault it is doesn’t matter anymore.” She patted Broc’s hand, then got up. “You don’t have to sing again if you’d rather not.”

  “Sammy made me promise.”

  His mother laughed. “He says Vernon sings in the cracks.” She grimaced. “He’s right.” Her expression softened, and her tears started again. “I hope I never meet Laveau di Viere because if I do I might kill him. I can never forgive him for keeping you away from us.” She wiped her cheeks. “Now I won’t say anything else to make me cry. Your father says if I don’t stop crying every time I see you, it will drive you away again.”

  “That won’t happen. There’s no better proof you’re happy I’m here.”

  His mother shed a few more tears, leaned over to kiss him, then hurried off to referee an argument over how many lemons were needed for the lemonade.

  As he watched her go, Broc wondered again how he could have misjudged his family so badly. Had he disliked his face so much that he believed everyone else would feel the same way, or was it just that people like Felix Yant made him forget not everyone was narrow-minded and cruel? Whatever the reason, he would never feel that way again.

  “I’m glad you talked me into coming here,” he said to Amanda. “I would never have done it otherwise.”

  Amanda squeezed his hand and leaned into him. “I knew you’d never be really happy believing your family didn’t want anything to do with you.”

  “The only person who really matters is you.”

  “I hope I’m the one who matters most, but I’m not the only one. I don’t even want to be
. Everyone you love, everyone who loves you—they all matter. You might be surprised just how many that adds up to.”

  He still found it hard to believe people like the judge, Mrs. Sibley, Eddie, even Leo, had never been bothered by his face. Most of all he was thankful it didn’t matter to Amanda. He could have endured anything as long as she loved him, but it was much better knowing she wasn’t the only one.

  “I’m still grateful. I would never have had this—” he gestured to the thirty-one people gathered here because of him “—if you hadn’t forced me to come.”

  “You wanted to come. You just needed a reason, and nothing brings a family together better than a wedding.”

  Maybe he had wanted to come, but he would never have had enough courage without Amanda’s support. He owed her so much. It was her love that made it possible for him to believe others could see past his injury. That had given him back himself. He was a person, not just a disfigured face.

  He was a man named Broc.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “I mean I love you in ways I never thought possible. I can’t imagine being without you. There is no me. Just us. I want to touch you all the time. I want to see your smile, hear you breathe, smell your hair, taste your skin when we’re making love. Then I want to do it all over again.”

  “I’ll remind you of this when we have our first argument.”

  “I’ll only argue because I love you.”

  “What if Luis insists we get married a second time?”

  “I’ll marry you every week for the rest of my life if you want.”

  “I’ll settle for being loved every day. I don’t think you can afford that many wedding dresses.”

  Praise

  CRITICS RAVE ABOUT USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR LEIGH GREENWOOD!

  “Leigh Greenwood continues to be a shining star of the genre!”

  —The Literary Times

  “Leigh Greenwood remains one of the forces to be reckoned with in the Americana romance subgenre.”